I don't know why Hannie Rayson irritated me so much when I heard her speak at Adelaide Writers Week. Thinking about it maybe its a generational thing. She's around the same age as my mother and my aunts who though they still try, seem so cringingly uncool. I feel like she plays into a certain stereotype which, coincidentally, are just the sort of people to attend literary festivals and buy books. (Financially comfortable, successful, inner urban dwelling, slightly tone deaf, privileged baby boomers.) For example, she talks about Brunswick Street like it is the hip place to be. Same goes for my 60 year old aunt. Hate to say it but Brunswick Street hasn't been cool for a very long time.
Out of morbid curiosity I started reading her book Hello Gorgeous! and I loved it. It was so refreshing and witty and there were many times I barked loudly with laughter. I loved reading about Melbourne and the many places that are so familiar to me but through someone else's eyes. And I loved that she had the same custody arrangement with her ex partner as I do with mine (the kid turned out well.)
It's a very positive, happy memoir. Hannie Rayson appears to see the world as a beautiful place with a glass half full outlook. Though not immune to tragedy (her father's stroke and subsequent death) she seems to be able to consistently see, and write about, the funny side of life. For someone who appears to have led a rather charmed life she is able to come across as relatable, entertaining, and humble throughout the book. She's also able to poke fun at herself. It's an adorable book and I hope she writes a follow up.
It's great that i'm on a bit of a roll with worthwhile books of late. Next two on my pile are Laurinda by Alice Pung and Pain, Parties, Work: Sylvia Plath in New York, Summer 1953 by Elizabeth Winder.
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