Sometimes I feel like writing one of those list books, even though I hate them.

This one would be called A Pile of Wonderful Books You Won't Read Before You Die. Because Nobody Does.

And John Clanchy would feature. Although I know lots of avid readers in Australia, the only one who even recognises the name isn't connected to his writing, it's because they both worked at the ANU. Sigh.

This is short stories and one episodic piece which is sixty-six pages. It concerns the Murphys and is called wait for it, pun coming: 'Murphy's Lore'.

On the dangers of reading.

No, it was the boy worried her. He got too much inside himself. It's not good all that rummacking about inside your own head, and reading, and him to the library three times this week already, books are all right in their own way there's value in books her own father would say and him never read one in his whole life, value in books, but you need to get out once in a while.

The boy asks if he can wear one of his father's detachable collars. The father is reluctantly interrogating him.

'What? What the devil are you talking about, boy? No, you can't. We're not here for collars. We're here about your lying tongue.'

'Well, later then?'

'Look, we'll have no more of your 'later'. This is the last time I'll ask you nicely. Your mother says you've been telling lies. Now I want a full list of the lies you've been telling. A full list, mind.'

Would they be here forever, then, and miss their tea?....

'Well,' his father was pulling at his arm, 'what lies?' Have you been telling more of your damn lies? Or not?'

That seemed to provide the best alternative so far. 'No,' he lied. He held his father's gaze.

'Well, let's leave the lying for the moment. Now what about all this money you've been stealing?'

'What money?'

They were unlikely to get any tea.

There is a marvellous section about a priest who teaches the boy and his friends at school. Perhaps it isn't allowed at the moment, writing sympathetically about a priest in the schoolroom, but it is hilarious and who knows, maybe it's good for the soul to read occasionally about a priest who isn't evil incarnate.

And how did they know Father Tierney was mad? He had been perfectly normal in their last chemistry lesson.

'God's gift to man, boys. Science is God's gift. I love Science,' he had roared from the big desk at the front with the bunsen burners and the enamel wash basins set deep into the wood and the silver fountains at the bottom which were supposed to spurt water up at great force to wash out the beakers and jars but only ever dribbled miserably. Terry O'Brien said he could do better lying on his back.

'What'll we make today?' Father Tierney rubbed his hands and stood grinning at them.

'Well, don't just sit there like a row of stone puddings. Participate,' he yelled, 'participate. This is your chance to share in God's wonderful bounty.'

Gavin O'Meara flicked through the pages of his exercise book, page after page of notes dictated by Father Tierney when science classes had been held in the library following the last explosion in the laboratories. His hand went up.

'At last. O'Meara?'

'Could we see,' he read, 'the startling effects of sulphuric acid on one of God's greatest gifts to man, copper?'

'What?'

'Could we see the startling effects...'

'No, certainly not. I've done that with the fourth form. It's not very interesting. What else? What else?'

'I'd like to see the hydrolitic process in action, particularly in relation to the long-term effects on zinc,' said one of the scholarship boys.

'Five hundred lines,' shouted Father Tierney.

'But Father...'

'Six.'

He waited, staring at the boy, daring him to speak again. Father Tierney loved a gamble.

The rest of this scene I've read a dozen times, would happily read it a dozen more - I hope I've tempted you to get the book, just to carry on.

the rest is here: https://alittleteaalittlechat.wordpress.com/2019/03/18/lie-of-the-land-by-john-c... ( )

Sometimes I feel like writing one of those list books, even though I hate them.

This one would be called A Pile of Wonderful Books You Won't Read Before You Die. Because Nobody Does.

And John Clanchy would feature. Although I know lots of avid readers in Australia, the only one who even recognises the name isn't connected to his writing, it's because they both worked at the ANU. Sigh.

This is short stories and one episodic piece which is sixty-six pages. It concerns the Murphys and is called wait for it, pun coming: 'Murphy's Lore'.

On the dangers of reading.

No, it was the boy worried her. He got too much inside himself. It's not good all that rummacking about inside your own head, and reading, and him to the library three times this week already, books are all right in their own way there's value in books her own father would say and him never read one in his whole life, value in books, but you need to get out once in a while.

The boy asks if he can wear one of his father's detachable collars. The father is reluctantly interrogating him.

'What? What the devil are you talking about, boy? No, you can't. We're not here for collars. We're here about your lying tongue.'

'Well, later then?'

'Look, we'll have no more of your 'later'. This is the last time I'll ask you nicely. Your mother says you've been telling lies. Now I want a full list of the lies you've been telling. A full list, mind.'

Would they be here forever, then, and miss their tea?....

'Well,' his father was pulling at his arm, 'what lies?' Have you been telling more of your damn lies? Or not?'

That seemed to provide the best alternative so far. 'No,' he lied. He held his father's gaze.

'Well, let's leave the lying for the moment. Now what about all this money you've been stealing?'

'What money?'

They were unlikely to get any tea.

There is a marvellous section about a priest who teaches the boy and his friends at school. Perhaps it isn't allowed at the moment, writing sympathetically about a priest in the schoolroom, but it is hilarious and who knows, maybe it's good for the soul to read occasionally about a priest who isn't evil incarnate.

And how did they know Father Tierney was mad? He had been perfectly normal in their last chemistry lesson.

'God's gift to man, boys. Science is God's gift. I love Science,' he had roared from the big desk at the front with the bunsen burners and the enamel wash basins set deep into the wood and the silver fountains at the bottom which were supposed to spurt water up at great force to wash out the beakers and jars but only ever dribbled miserably. Terry O'Brien said he could do better lying on his back.

'What'll we make today?' Father Tierney rubbed his hands and stood grinning at them.

'Well, don't just sit there like a row of stone puddings. Participate,' he yelled, 'participate. This is your chance to share in God's wonderful bounty.'

Gavin O'Meara flicked through the pages of his exercise book, page after page of notes dictated by Father Tierney when science classes had been held in the library following the last explosion in the laboratories. His hand went up.

'At last. O'Meara?'

'Could we see,' he read, 'the startling effects of sulphuric acid on one of God's greatest gifts to man, copper?'

'What?'

'Could we see the startling effects...'

'No, certainly not. I've done that with the fourth form. It's not very interesting. What else? What else?'

'I'd like to see the hydrolitic process in action, particularly in relation to the long-term effects on zinc,' said one of the scholarship boys.

'Five hundred lines,' shouted Father Tierney.

'But Father...'

'Six.'

He waited, staring at the boy, daring him to speak again. Father Tierney loved a gamble.

The rest of this scene I've read a dozen times, would happily read it a dozen more - I hope I've tempted you to get the book, just to carry on.

the rest is here: https://alittleteaalittlechat.wordpress.com/2019/03/18/lie-of-the-land-by-john-c... ( )

Sometimes I feel like writing one of those list books, even though I hate them.

This one would be called A Pile of Wonderful Books You Won't Read Before You Die. Because Nobody Does.

And John Clanchy would feature. Although I know lots of avid readers in Australia, the only one who even recognises the name isn't connected to his writing, it's because they both worked at the ANU. Sigh.

This is short stories and one episodic piece which is sixty-six pages. It concerns the Murphys and is called wait for it, pun coming: 'Murphy's Lore'.

On the dangers of reading.

No, it was the boy worried her. He got too much inside himself. It's not good all that rummacking about inside your own head, and reading, and him to the library three times this week already, books are all right in their own way there's value in books her own father would say and him never read one in his whole life, value in books, but you need to get out once in a while.

The boy asks if he can wear one of his father's detachable collars. The father is reluctantly interrogating him.

'What? What the devil are you talking about, boy? No, you can't. We're not here for collars. We're here about your lying tongue.'

'Well, later then?'

'Look, we'll have no more of your 'later'. This is the last time I'll ask you nicely. Your mother says you've been telling lies. Now I want a full list of the lies you've been telling. A full list, mind.'

Would they be here forever, then, and miss their tea?....

'Well,' his father was pulling at his arm, 'what lies?' Have you been telling more of your damn lies? Or not?'

That seemed to provide the best alternative so far. 'No,' he lied. He held his father's gaze.

'Well, let's leave the lying for the moment. Now what about all this money you've been stealing?'

'What money?'

They were unlikely to get any tea.

There is a marvellous section about a priest who teaches the boy and his friends at school. Perhaps it isn't allowed at the moment, writing sympathetically about a priest in the schoolroom, but it is hilarious and who knows, maybe it's good for the soul to read occasionally about a priest who isn't evil incarnate.

And how did they know Father Tierney was mad? He had been perfectly normal in their last chemistry lesson.

'God's gift to man, boys. Science is God's gift. I love Science,' he had roared from the big desk at the front with the bunsen burners and the enamel wash basins set deep into the wood and the silver fountains at the bottom which were supposed to spurt water up at great force to wash out the beakers and jars but only ever dribbled miserably. Terry O'Brien said he could do better lying on his back.

'What'll we make today?' Father Tierney rubbed his hands and stood grinning at them.

'Well, don't just sit there like a row of stone puddings. Participate,' he yelled, 'participate. This is your chance to share in God's wonderful bounty.'

Gavin O'Meara flicked through the pages of his exercise book, page after page of notes dictated by Father Tierney when science classes had been held in the library following the last explosion in the laboratories. His hand went up.

'At last. O'Meara?'

'Could we see,' he read, 'the startling effects of sulphuric acid on one of God's greatest gifts to man, copper?'

'What?'

'Could we see the startling effects...'

'No, certainly not. I've done that with the fourth form. It's not very interesting. What else? What else?'

'I'd like to see the hydrolitic process in action, particularly in relation to the long-term effects on zinc,' said one of the scholarship boys.

'Five hundred lines,' shouted Father Tierney.

'But Father...'

'Six.'

He waited, staring at the boy, daring him to speak again. Father Tierney loved a gamble.

The rest of this scene I've read a dozen times, would happily read it a dozen more - I hope I've tempted you to get the book, just to carry on.

the rest is here: https://alittleteaalittlechat.wordpress.com/2019/03/18/lie-of-the-land-by-john-c... ( )