Monthly Archives: October 2018

Book review – A helmet for my pillow, Robert Leckie

I read and enjoy a wide range of fiction but rarely nonfiction and was recently compelled to read a war memoir, something I haven’t really read much of – here is my review from Goodreads.

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Years ago, a family friend told my parents that I would not like a certain movie because it was a ‘war movie’. Little did they know or understand that as war is part of the terrible human condition it’s one I find both fascinating and terrifying in equal measure and was driven to read some of the personal memoirs after watching the excellent HBO series ‘The Pacific’. I found here in the comfort of my home – at peace time and never been close to war – I never really knew or understood what the war in the Pacific entailed, aside from the Hollywood movies that so inspired Robert Leckie to write and ‘tell the story of how it really was’. Leckie’s personal narrative of life as a young enlisted marine is beautiful, eloquent and at times a humourous account of the horrors faced in the jungles by an enemy as equally dogged as those that opposed them. Starting in bootcamp in the USA, then on to the Solomon Islands and Guadacanal, Melbourne, New Guinea, Cape Gloucester, before he was wounded on the island of Peleliu, Leckie’s prose falls off the page with delightful ease. I found it difficult to put this book down – at times it was irreverent and made me laugh, at other times heartbreaking and full of the sorrows of war. If you have an interest in WW2 history or even in personal narratives of historical events I would thoroughly recommend this read.

The indecent flower

red yellow flower tulips

Photo by Mikes Photos on Pexels.com

The glossy layered curves fold gentle around into a cuplike shape.  The main colour is vibrant and dramatic and transitions into a flamboyant golden colour hue at the edge in stark contrast with the main.  It dazzles the eyes if you look too long.  Inside the cup, the soft folds reveal ominous, yet velvety, filaments that poke upwards towards the rim to seek out the sunshine.    The base of the cup changes colour again, this time, to one of gentle pale green, underneath which, the supple petals merge smoothly into a rigid stalk.  Towards the base, the pale green leaves expose themselves; they are strong but soft enough to ripple like glossy waves or silken sheets, shadowing the foundation of rich dirt beneath.  Its fragrance is not sweet-smelling, but it emits a pleasant earthy aroma, one that hints of early spring and suggests more to come.

Evie stands and stares at the pot and the tulip within and gives a soft giggle. The wine glass in her hand is almost empty.

“What are you laughing at Evie?” Malcolm asks.

Evie contemplates the tulip again before she replies. “I think I have figured out why I love these flowers.”

“And why is that?” He slips his arm around her waist from behind and nuzzles her neck.

“Well…” She laughs again, “It’s not even spring, and yet here they are, on a sunny winter afternoon, displaying themselves like dancers at the Moulin Rogue. They’re so, um…. suggestive.”

His interest piques. “Suggestive, of what?”

Evie can feel Malcolm’s grip tighten on her waist, and she senses the mischievousness in his voice. She reaches around and playfully smacks the back of his head. “I’ll tell you later my love; our guests will be here any minute.”