My illustration of Indonesian music played by Soegito Hardjodikoro and I Gede Eka Riyadi at the National Portrait Gallery.
Eleven year old Novi just wants to blend in — not easy when you’re named after a silkworm and have the most eccentric family in town. A descendent of the first Italian silk growers in northern New South Wales, he is an obsessive artist with a habit of drawing the stories of the people around him, and a secret conviction that the river murdered his grandfather.
Young teacher Dom Best is new in town and must overcome his lack of confidence to support Novi’s talent. Together with Camille, the enigmatic school librarian, Dom encourages the boy to release his inhibitions and unravel his unusual family history through his art — though little can he imagine the consequences this will bring.
Watercolours is a poignant debut novel with a mystery at its heart, an unexpected love story and a surprising twist. Most of all, it celebrates the clarity and colour a child’s-eye view brings to the adult world.
Its been a while since Ive read a novel and I did really enjoy this one.
They are waiting for me somewhere beyond Eden
Rock:
My father, twenty-five, in the same suit
Of Genuine Irish Tweed, his terrier Jack
Still two years old and trembling at his feet.
My mother, twenty-three, in a sprigged dress
Drawn at the waist, ribbon in her straw hat,
Has spread the stiff white cloth over the grass.
Her hair, the colour of wheat, takes on the light.
She pours tea from a Thermos, the milk straight
From an old H.P. sauce-bottle, a screw
Of paper for a cork; slowly sets out
The same three plates, the tin cups painted blue.
The sky whitens as if lit by three suns.
My mother shades her eyes and looks my way
Over the drifted stream. My father spins
A stone along the water. Leisurely,
They beckon to me from the other bank.
I hear them call, 'See where the stream-path is!
Crossing is not as hard as you might think.'
