The natural way of things

The Natural Way of Things is a contemporary novel by Australian author Charlotte Wood.

It came heavily recommended. My friend, who’s incidentally an English teacher—no not the teacher of the language but a woman of the language itself—wrote a lengthy Facebook post (we’re millennials, we’re embracing technology) about how much she enjoyed this book.

Enjoyed in the sense that she was gripped by the crude reality that this story portrays. As a woman, a feminist, and as someone with a lot of female (and male) friends, she couldn’t believe how easily women can turn against each other. Or rather, she knew it was all possible, but was still shocked to physically hold a book that reflects, in a most provocative manner, that exact fear. It was strange for my friend to read through a life story of a character (albeit imaginary) who experienced the nastiness of fellow humans—both female and male.

It’s not the nastiness that gives this book its bitter aftertaste. Lots of books are nasty. It’s the level of nastiness.

For me, this book was a bit dull for a long time before it got interesting. It got interesting when the characters in the book—all women, all of who were kidnapped, bound in chains, and made to slave away without even knowing why or by whom—realised that the food was running out. That likely says a lot more about me than in does about the book itself, but the moral of the story is that when times become hard and everything seems bleak, when women become desperate for freedom (in a manner of speaking), they’ll betray anyone. Even those they considered friends, sisters, and fellow sufferers.

That’s it. That’s what the story says. In a fast-paced, realistic, Australian narrative, we follow the lives of a handful of women who under intense stress, display what it means to be human.

So many people who’ve read this book call it horrible and evil and other adjectives that mean the same. But it’s none of that. It’s chillingly real. If it were all men instead of women, the outcome probably would’ve been similar. However, because this book spotlights human weakness in a way that most of us know but can’t come to terms with, it’s sparked a lot of debate.

For instance, one of the most common responses to this book is whether women could ever be such bitches to each other. In this modern world where women are collectively braving the trials of male chauvinism and patriarchy, will women turn against each other when provoked?

The answer is a responding yes. And that’s hard to deal with. But deal with it we should because that behaviour has nothing to do with them being women—it’s human nature. Hence the title.

Is this the greatest book I’ve ever read? No.

Has this book changed the way I see the world? Probably not. (But that’s also because I’ve always believed humans will be the downfall of humans. I’m not exactly a ray of sunshine.)

But is this book even worth reading? Hell yes.

Because it forces us to look at reality and accept it. To understand that in our weakest moments, we may lose everything we’re made of. And that’s ok, because humans aren’t perfect. We will all break at some point and being aware of it might help us stay intact for just a little longer.

Hear, hear!

I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.

Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

Isn’t Sylvia the best? I love her writing—there’s something so enchanting about the way she transforms grief and depression into such evocative words.


I’m away on holiday for a couple of weeks, and until I get back with more haiku and photographs, I’m sharing some of my favourite quotes. Hope you enjoy!

If you want more, check these out:
Travel haiku | Musings about life | Copywriting adventures

Making peace with silence

Writer’s block is just a symptom of feeling like you have nothing to say, combined with the rather weird idea that you should feel the need to say something. Why? If you have something to say, then say it. If not, enjoy the silence while it lasts. The noise will return soon enough.

Hugh McLeod, Ignore Everybody: and 39 Other Keys to Creativity

I’m away on holiday for a couple of weeks, and until I get back with more haiku and photographs, I’m sharing some of my favourite quotes. Hope you enjoy!

If you want more, check these out:

Travel haiku | Musings about life | Copywriting adventures

Dorian Gray

a golden picture frame - Unsplash
Source: Unsplash

I always knew I didn’t like ebooks. But common sense had to prevail, and so, like many of my friends, I caved under societal pressure to start reading books on my electronic devices.

Surprising even myself, I quickly read a handful of books. I was getting accustomed to the idea of pulling out my phone while waiting for the bus, while on the bus, and during boring conversations. And it was with that enthusiasm that I downloaded The Picture of Dorian Gray, the classic Wilde tale about a wild young man.

Two years later, having opened and closed it many times at bus stops and on sleepless nights in bed, I’d read seven chapters.

Forcing to refrain an eye roll when I mentioned I’d never read the book before, my good-natured friend offered to lend me her copy. It’ll help imagine our exchange if you know she’s English and a teacher.

Within 24 hours, I finished the book. I swear, ebooks are not for me.

Even though I’ve now moved on to reading my next book, Dorian Gray remains fresh in mind. When I was still reading it on my laptop, as a break one day, I looked up reviews for the book on Goodreads.

A tirade on Lord Henry showered upon me. People described him as pure evil for poisoning young Gray’s mind and heart. Dorian admits it himself suggesting the book Henry had given him had led him downhill. Sure, Henry is manipulative. But you could also argue that as the older man, he only took on a more protective role of Dorian, behaving much like an older brother or father would do . And he played that role well, too, scorning at Basil for professing his affection for Gray.

To me, though, Henry is a representation of our society. There’s nothing vile about Henry—he’s only a disarmingly accurate illustration of the many characters we encounter in everyday life.

This phenomenon stayed with me as I read through the book. The further I ventured, the more I liked him. He is toxic company in every sense, but at the same time, he’s also the overzealous relative who never misses a family dinner. He’s the type of friend we’d keep close even though we know they’re more harmful than helpful.

Henry is charming. Remember: Dorian is never bullied. Every idea and impression Henry instils in Dorian is the younger man’s asking. Not once do we see Henry apply force or forgery to get Dorian to do his bidding. Henry is a complex and well-rounded character, just as the ones we see in our lives. Is he detestable? Absolutely. But to call him evil is to limit his impact in the story. It reduces him to a mere two dimensional element.

Henry doesn’t just deserve readers’ hatred. He also deserves adoration, for he inspires in us, a deep-rooted desire to avoid people of his like.

As readers, we often blindly support the hero of a story, even though, as in this case, the hero is a weak-kneed and self-serving young man. This novel and Henry is a reminder to us that there’s more to people than what meets the eye. I mean, this guy’s a genius:

“When a woman marries again, it is because she detested her first husband. When a man marries again, it is because he adored his first wife. Women try their luck; men risk theirs.”

Scratch that!

Initial sketches of the Australian 10 cent coin
Initial sketches of the Australian $0.10 coin
Royal Australian Mint

Rethink every thought—
quite crappy the world will be,
if first drafts were last.