Dim's Write Stuff

From the author who gave us the heart-jolting ,  Exit Through The Gift Shop , comes another show-stopping middle grade drama.  No Words  pulls no punches telling the story of 12-year-old refugee, Aria and moves with the same tumultuous pace as  Master’s  former novel. Don’t equate the tempo of this narrative with a rushed outcome however because Aria’s tale is told with measured sensitivity and precision. It just happens to be in the same voice as your typical upper primary school kid with as much energetic beat and bounce. Which is ironic when the story centres around Aria’s distinct  lack  of voice. Aria hails from old Iran, Persia having fled his country with his older brother and father. There was no time for goodbyes. No time to mourn the loss of his beloved mother. No time to digest the horror of their situation. We learn through the broken recall of Aria that his mother was persecuted for her liberated feminist beliefs. But that is not the main thrust of this story. Hero and her

Challenger Deep might not be your typical resort pool-side read but this mind-splitting psychological YA fiction had me from the first glimpse of its ambiguous cover art (of the Australian edition) and the first improbable, incongruous lines: There are two things you know. One: You were there. Two: You couldn’t have been there. Plus, Neal Shusterman, so … this is what accompanied me to the sunbeds. Deep, mysterious, soul crushing, Neal Schusterman oscillates fifteen-year-old Caden Bosch between reality and madness with unnerving accuracy in an intensely immersive narrative about mental illness. I’m not sure why it took me until now to dip into this one but if stories have a way of finding you at the exact time you need them, then Challenger Deep hit its mark with me. Life often resembles a rollercoaster ride. In recent times, mine’s been more of a washing machine of anguish and tortured emotions. At least you can open your eyes on a rollercoaster. Let out a scream now and then. Perh

I’m known to spend my brief lunch breaks pouring over my latest read, gingerly page turning with one hand. Shoving food down with the other. There are usually accidents thus there is always a sheet of paper towelling or a servette present, as well. Let me tell you; if Love Stories by Trent Dalton is your current lunch date, you’ll need a few extra rolls of paper towelling. Not because the stories within ignite a voracious appetite but because they unbottle a sea of emotions that by the very last pages even the most robust 3 ply paper towel could not possibily absorb. Love Stories is not a wanton sob fest however. It’s more of a two-armed hug. It’s warm and intimate. Compassionate and global. It cleaves your heart open then carefully welds it back together, better than it was before even if you’re a bit like me; someone who has never succumbed to the pull of Valentine’s Day, who regards romance as improbable as a lottery win. Someone who has craved love since she could toddle after