Dysfunction

Two chapters into last year’s Miles Franklin winner, a fellow transplanted Serb born over there in his case.  Best to omit the critique at this point; highly interesting of course to get the Bosnian War treatment from an independent source. (Thus far there has been at least one touch that hits the mark: the chief character Jovan and his wife Suzana, having lost their two young children to some intentional food poisoning in Sarajevo during the war, find they must remain mute about their particular tragedy and “have found a way to live without response.” Precisely how it might turn out for parents in such a position.)

         The Viet French Bakery with the Eiffel Tower signage the least objectionable and least pretentious café thus far discovered in this city that was by default one’s own.  Well, in fact Fausi’s over the road, completely unsigned, beats it for unpretentiousness hands down. Over there however you cannot sit undisturbed, quietly reading or writing. More varied clientele here too in a version of shabby genteel; one of the young Viet waitresses a little more aroused than is perhaps good for her. Beers in the far corner in the approach to winter. (Over the way third day of Ramadan.)

         After almost six years on the windless equator the stir of the Nazi-style bicycle helmet on the tabletop in the corner by the open door brought a little start. How about that?... One would not have thought wind blow could be missed.

         In St. Kilda for lunch the former Moroccan restaurant on Grey Street has been re-named Love Dysfunction. Perfectly located. The Choir of Hard Knocks was founded at the top of the hill thirty metres away at Sacred Heart and down at the bottom the Crisis Centre and needle exchange. Topmost dysfunction with no end of opportunity for loving.

NB. The Miles Franklin is the top Australian prize for a novel; Black Rock White City, A.S. Patric, p. 50