I recently finished reading Foreign Soil by Aussie author Maxine Beneba Clarke; the book that inspired this piece. Quite simply, because it’s like nothing I’ve ever read.
It’s edgy and unpunctuated. Thick with challenging topics, and accents. A rucksack stuffed with ten short stories set all over the world, from Australia to New Orleans. Voices written not as they speak, but as they actually sound. Southern drawls, Jamaican twangs, cool Caribbean coos. Like dis, mun. And it’s wonderful. It’s refreshing. It’s heartwarming to hear the souls of her characters echo in your ears. And it’s real life, real genius, captured in words. xJ