2005

I realise the idea of me actually exercising is going to stretch the imaginations of one or two people, but sometimes, I do attempt a little bit.

Not often and certainly none of that raising a sweat panting and puffing palaver.

If I can't read a book while I'm doing it, I'm not doing it. And HAL SPACEJOCK was a rather good book to choose. Although I'm not sure that "perfect for when you're exercising" is going to be a description that anybody's going to be drawn to...

Funny, silly, touching in places, the first book in the series is a bit of a madcap romp style of book, set in the future, where the hero's are robots, one particular human really shouldn't still be breathing, and big business villains are left right and centre. So not an unexpected plot, but there's enough of the "future" sort of stuff to make it that little bit different, without being too hard of a leap for a non-science fiction fan like me.

But then, anything, repeat ANYTHING, that can make me forget how long I've been walking up and down on the same spot is a good thing.

"Day after day my life was consumed by killings, distress and gruesome sites, each one adding another piece to an ever-growing mosaic that seemed to be made up of bloodied disposable gloves, plastic bags and human waste. . ."

I don't think there's any way that Esther McKay could describe her life as a forensic crime investigator in terms that would make it comfortable reading for anybody.  Which means it's no surprise whatsoever that this book is confrontational, difficult and frequently disturbing, just as the job must have been.

McKay has a way of telling the stories that gives the reader more than enough of a feeling for the more gruesome aspects of the crime scenes that she experienced, giving you just enough of the facts to make it obvious how horrendous that work must be, drawing out the personal affect of dealing with not just the nature of the job, but the ridiculous amounts of stress, overtime and pressure involved.

Not an easy read, and I couldn't help but hope that family members of the people caught up in the cases discussed were avoiding this book like the plague, but for the rest of us, this is a real job that somebody does.  You have to hope that education and training levels have improved, you've also got to hope that support and staffing is considerably better than it was when McKay worked in the job, but regardless it's still a dreadful job for anybody to have to do.

Well it shouldn't come as any surprise that a book written "for" an old time notorious crim seemed somewhat revisionary, but even allowing for that aspect, there's something slightly odd about this book.  Billy Longley is one of those notorious old-time crims - known far and wide in Victoria in particular, who was very active in the equally notorious Painters and Dockers Union.  

I've now read a few books which purport to tell the tales of the Painters and Dockers but I don't think this book is going to add much to anyone's overall understanding of the truth of what used to happen in those wild days.  But if you'd like to read a book that tells you a little about what an old man wants you to think of his past - then it probably works on that level.