BOOK REVIEW: You'll be sorry when I'm dead - Marieke Hardy

review first posted at Boomerang Books
 

You'll be sorry when I'm dead
Marieke Hardy
2011
Allen & Unwin
ISBN 9781742377261

Marieke Hardy became a much more visible presence on the Australian landscape with her  regular spot on ABC Television's First Tuesday Book Club. But of course she had been around for much longer than that, writing for The Age and elsewhere, including the Australian Writers Guild's magazine, script writing and acting when younger. She is clearly a fascinating individual and I looked forward to finally getting to review this book.

This is less a biography and more a collection of shorter pieces about aspects of her life, some of which previously appeared in print in shorter form.

I had expected to be entertained and I was certainly not disappointed. Hardy's prose is every bit as sharp and bright as her verbal barbs on television. I was quite literally laughing out loud in places which is unusual for me even when amused while reading. I had started writing down some memorable quotes for use in this review but there was simply so many of them. But referring to Alan Jones as 'that little cockstain' was just priceless.

This read was not all giggles and smirks. There is a darkness to Marieke Hardy as well and she was not afraid to explore this in places.

There was a passing reference to Hardy's great-Aunt Mary. I am old enough to remember the often outrageous and always funny, Mary Hardy when she was a fixture on Victorian television. Her tragic demise was surprisingly typical of many 'funny' people – surrounded by people yet alone and very sad. At the risk of sounding like a pompous, amateur headshrinker, I felt a sense of the same coming through at times in Marieke's writing.

This is an adult read in many respects and some of it is somewhat confronting. And I loved it.

“You'll be sorry when I'm dead” will definitely be going into my list of recommended reading from 2011.

Hoss Ramilton
(not my real name – read the foreword to get the joke)

Marieke Hardy, Fire Engines and Coffee

This is my second attempt today at posting this entry. My computer really dislikes me at present.


Today I had an appointment with the headshrinker. A new one to be precise. I suspect my last one was unable to continue coping with mental delinquents like me and ran screaming from the building.

A strangely conscientious Ross arrived early. Well, to be honest, I was five minutes late for the time I thought the appointment was for but was actually twenty-five minutes early for the actual appointment time of 1pm. Except the appointment was no longer for 1pm at all but had been rescheduled and could I please come back at 3pm.  Although there was no 'could' or please. "You vill report back here at 3pm and you vill be on time for Doktor Mengeler."

Fortunately today's post had delivered a long-awaited copy of Marieke Hardy's biography, You'll Be Sorry When I'm Dead. Another reviewer got hold of our review copy before me and enjoyed it so much that they had difficulty in letting it out of their hands. But I have it now so all is forgiven. Now it was hardly worth my time to now traipse across town to uni only to be there for five minutes only for it to be time to start traipsing back again. So I settled down in the cafe on the building's ground floor for lunch and reading.

As I was soon chortling out loud, I elicited some strange looks from other people, particularly when I managed  to snort Coke Zero out my nostrils (not regular Coke as I'm on a health kick or at least that's my story and I'm sticking to it). This is a lady who writes like how I would like to but Marieke does it so, so very much better than me.

Just then, all hell broke loose. Alarms began shrieking, hammering and pounding like an entire punk concert on speed. Something was up! Had terrorists struck? Or worse, had someone else pinched my idea of letter-bombing the Mental Health knobs?

Strangely, I seemed to be the only one paying any real attention to this alarm. The cafe staff just spoke a little louder as they continued dispensing coffee and sandwiches. The couple at the table next to me merely introduced plenty of 'Pardon?' and 'What?' to their discussion.

Well obviously it must be a drill, I decided. But the noise was becoming too much for me so, like Elvis, I left the building. Now that's something I would like to do for a laugh one day; pay someone to make an announcement over the PA in a busy public place that 'Ross has left the building - repeat - Ross has left the building.' I could then amuse myself watching people wonder who the hell Ross is and why should they give a toss if he's in or not.

As I utilised the egress (I suspect that is grammatically incorrect but I think it looks good, so there) I heard then saw a fire engine approaching, all sirens, lights and bravado, which then pulled up beside the building. Yet there was still a conspicous absence of anybody else leaving the building even though it was clearly more than just a drill. Odd, that.

I retired instead to Smith's Alternative Bookshop. Interestingly I am yet to determine exactly what the alternative is to books that they are selling. Particularly as there are in fact books for sale inside. But Smith's does a good coffee and as anybody who knows me is aware, that is a good way of getting my attention. Somehow the flamenco version of I Did It My Way in Spanish playing inside, lacked quite the same degree of excitement of fire alarms and engines.

I now had a soothing coffee and a comfortable place to continue reading Marieke. Now to see if she could make me snort coffee out my nostrils.

P.S. I didn't snort coffee as I was now forwarned but still kept chortling aloud.

P.P.S. Having just reached the chapter describing Marieke's heartbreak at the demise of  the Fitzroy Football Club, I am now irretrievably in love. Go the 'Roy Boys!

P.P.P.S. The health clinic neither burned to the ground nor was letter-bombed.

Review of Laid

I do not normally review television. In fact I have never reviewed television. I stick to my meandering about books for awritergoesonajourney and occasionally elsewhere. However on this occasion I have decided to review the latest new offering from ABC Television, Laid.

This program was the brainchild of co-creator, writer and co-producer, Marieke Hardy. Marieke has an enviable television and entertainment pedigree. Her parents were television writers and producers. Her grandfather was Frank Hardy, noted Australian writer and radical (the polite family euphemism for becoming a communist) and grand-niece of the very funny and always unpredictable comedian, Mary Hardy. Any Victorian from my generation and back would remember Mary Hardy and her caustic, riotous wit on The Penthouse Club. The fact that Marieke became an actress and then writer is therefore not surprising although she has emerged to become a writer and personality in her own right. Her love and opinions of literature come through loud and strong with her appearances on ABC Television’s First Tuesday Book Club. Quirky, funny, intelligent and a vegan (which has nothing whatsoever to do with things but it’s a useless fact I know from following Marieke on Twitter) I was really interested to see what her new work was like.

Unfortunately I missed the debut of the program on Wednesday, February 9th. I was otherwise engaged on matters of earth-shattering importance. Oh OK. I was too busy scratching my fat, hairy ass and forgot. Happy now? Anyway I was able to legitimately download a copy from the ABC’s website today and watched it earlier this evening (after fighting with the DVD burner to get a disc burned that actually worked in the television’s DVD player rather than trying to watch it on the small laptop monitor).

Roo McVie is a market researcher. An old boyfriend that she privately refers to as ‘that dickhead’ has just died and Roo attends the funeral. She finds herself attending the wake with the family afterward and things go downhill from there.

Laid is a somewhat dark, adult comedy. It is not slapstick or farce. There is no laugh track, synthetic or otherwise. I hesitate to say that it is a clever piece. It was Chris Rock who said “If only smart people like your shit, it ain’t that smart.” But I thought this was a cleverly done and thoroughly enjoyable although to get the most out of it, you need to be listening carefully to the dialogue. The closing left things on a note that just compels coming back next week. I have already noted the diary.