Hello-ello-ello,
Today, my dearest readers, I wish to take you on a tour of lovely books you probably haven't read because nobody reads them anymore.
Let us start with my favourites:
The Billabong books by Mary Grant Bruce
I first happened upon these books (there are fifteen all in all) when my cousin gave me the first three for Christmas one year. She hadn't read them, but they looked like the sort of thing we're both into. I was going through my horsy phase at this time (I shudder and cringe in retrospect; a person who doesn't ride has no right to know so much about dressage, gymkhana and general equestrian trivia) and so was watching 'The Saddle Club' every day, reading all the Saddle Club books, The Silver Brumby, A Pony For The Winter (and basically every other 'whinge, whinge, buy me a ruddy pony already, daddy or I'll go steal one!' book in the library).
So A Little Bush Maid (don't judge a book by its title, my loves) was the perfect gift for me at the time. And then I fell in love. With Wally Meadows, to be specific. Norah (the main character)'s brother's best friend, a rich orphan boy from Queensland who comes down with Jim (Norah's aforementioned brother) every holiday from boarding school in Melbourne. I must say that, if first dibs counts for anything, I fell in love with Wally eight books before Norah did.
These books jumpstarted my deep and abiding affection for early 20th century slang, fictional boys, books about WWI (Jim and Wally go off to war in books 4-7), Australian fiction of the period (more of which shall be discussed later) and it weaned me off the horsy books. Although horses are a recurring theme (the series being set mainly on a cattle station in Victoria) they are far less enchanting than the people.
I can't really explain why I love Wally so much - it would take a whole book to do that. I think I'll give you a little excerpt instead (I feel no qualms about it being a major plot spoiler because the chances of you reading these books are incredibly incredibly slim.)
'"You're a queer chap, Wal.' [said Jim] 'Why did you never tell me about the trouble you and Norah had with the roan bull?"
Wally was glad that it was nearly dark. He hesitated a moment, trying to make his voice careless.
"Oh - I don't know. Did Norah tell you?"
"She only told me last night. By Jove! It must have been an awfully near thing! She reckons she'd have been killed, to a certainty, if you hadn't turned up. Was it as narrow a shave as that?"
"Yes, it was pretty narrow. I don't want to see anything closer." To his disgust, Wally found it difficult to speak in his ordinary voice; again came that dryness of the mouth, the sick horror, that always swept over him at the memory of Norah's peril. Jim glanced at him curiously.
"But why didn't you tell me anything about it?"
"I - I'm hanged if I know," Wally said.
"Well," said Jim, and stopped. The shade of hurt surprise in his tone cut Wally like a whip. It was unthinkable that any misunderstanding should come between him and Jim. [Another thing I love about these books: the epic bromance between Jim and Wally]
"I don't know why," he said desperately. "I - I couldn't talk of it somehow. It was too close. I - Oh, hang it, old man, can't you understand? Norah - well, I can't even think of it easily. I care too much."
For a moment there was utter silence. The Jim's great hand caught at his chum's and wrung it.
"Why, Wal!" he said, "Dear old chap!"
"Well, that's that!" said Wally. "I only realised it myself a little while ago, and I've been pretty miserable ever since."
"But why?" said Jim, "Why shouldn't you care for her?"
And that's all I'll give you. I think, actually that what I love about Wally (besides the dark hair, sensitive nature, deep olive tan, cheerfulness, loyalty, dancing skills, optimism, enthusiasm, random use of Gaelic endearments and big brown eyes) is his improbable but devestating combination of a tough, manly, outdoorsy Aussie type with the chivalrous romantic gentleman of the period. *Sigh*.
Well, that's about all we have time for today, folks. I intended this to be a post about rare out-of-print stories that rock... and then spent the entire time raving about a man who doesn't even exist. I'm a hopeless case.
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