Baba Schwartz and The May Beetles

by Joan London

Baba Schwartz, and her husband Andor, survived the Holocaust before emigrating to Australia.

Joan London
Photo: Abby London

Morry’s (Baba’s son) is a brave voice in publishing, and it is now hard to imagine our Australian culture without The Quarterly Essay, The Monthly, and The Saturday Paper. And without Black Inc, with their books, as beautifully presented and edited, and necessary, as The May Beetles.

One of my most intense and formative reading experiences took place when I was 11 years old and read Anne Frank’s Diary of A Young Girl. 

Up until then, I had never heard of the Holocaust, and knew only two Jewish people, a couple who played bridge with my parents. Anne Frank’s diary opened my eyes to mid-20th century history,  to the devastating, incomprehensible mass murder of millions of one race by another, a tragedy that could even sweep up a girl, my age, with my young hopes and aspirations.  

I could hardly believe when I got to the end of the book, that Anne Frank was not saved. It left me bereft, shaken, that in her world, that existed only 15 years before I got to read about it, and unlike any other book I’d read, evil had won.

Baba Schwartz
Photo: Caitlin Muscat

One of the privileges of having spent some time in Melbourne over the past few years has been getting to know Baba Schwartz, and enjoying her wise, calm, and generous company. The last time that I visited Baba was in her new apartment on the 16th floor, where I ate some of her delicious freshly cooked pastries, and where it seemed entirely appropriate that Baba should have such an overview of the world all around her. 

Baba has written a wonderful memoir, The May Beetles. A beautiful, generous, book, both in its  physical presentation – the irresistible cover photo of the girl with the dazzling smile, the quality of the paper, the endpieces which reproduce traditional embroidery that speak of a lost pre-war world – and then, most importantly, in the acuity of the memory that informs the book and the generosity of the spirit of the writing.  

It is, of course, also a horrifying book, with its account of a culture turning on some of its own people, their rounding up, deportation, and subsequent slaughter, made so vivid in the writing, alongside the reproductions of chilling old documents issued with ruthless Nazi efficiency.  

Baba writes: 

This life I am revealing – this father, this mother, this family – is the life I would wish for everyone. No harm in any of us, but a sense of the inexhaustible sources of delight in the world. Yes, if I could bestow a gift on others, it would be to live as my family had lived before the great darkness. (p.75)

Again and again she refers to the beauty and happiness of that old world, that lost way of life:

I recall the summer of 1942 more vividly and in more detail than any season during the years of growing danger. I recall the warm winds that carried the fragrance of blossoms. I recall flirting with boys with intense delight in the long evenings. The dusk crept over us by such slow degrees that the darkness settled without our noticing it…Each evening, as I entered our house, I hoped that tomorrow would be as enthralling as was today.

Thirteen years ago, Baba’s husband, Andor Schwartz also published a memoir, Living Memory, and both books constitute a profound witness of the devastation that overtook the Jews of Europe in the late thirties and early forties of the 20th century. These books are there for the record, in all their vivid, detailed testimony of that great darkness that must never be forgotten. 

The wall above the eternal flame in the Hall of Remembrance of the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum quotes Deuteronomy:

Only guard yourself and guard your soul carefully, lest you forget the things your eyes saw and lest these things depart your heart all the days of your life. And you shall make them known to your children and to your children’s children. 

The Schwartzs’ survival, and the subsequent remaking of their lives in this country, has been part of the infinite enrichment brought to Australia by postwar immigration.

Baba, a huge reader, is a natural writer, with the writer’s impulse to record, to witness, to interrogate. She has always been a writer.  

As she says in the preface to The May Beetles: I write all the time – diary notes, contemplations, poetry, recipes … And most recently, this wonderful memoir. 

Baba Schwartz will be talking about her story for the first time in the session 'I'm still here: Survivors speak', alongside Frank Vajda and Marcel Weyland, moderated by Rita Nash, on Sunday August 28, 10:00am - 11:00am at the Sydney Jewish Writers Festival. 

Book today at www.sjwf.org.au!

Do fences make good neighbours?

by Meredith Jaffe

The story of how The Fence came to exist is a story in parts. 

I was writing another novel when the character Gwen, the elderly protagonist of The Fence, appeared in my head. She was persistent, so I’d write a few words about her, saving her for later.

Meredith Jaffe

Over time, her neighbours Babs and Val joined her. Pretty soon I knew they’d all been living in the same street since early in their married lives. I knew Babs would die and new neighbours would move in. Apart from that, I had no story. 

However, life has a way of throwing ideas at you when you’re a writer, even if at first you don’t have a clue how to use them. 

In this case, our neighbours of ten years decided to downsize. The couple who bought their home was a generation younger with a young son and big plans for their first ever house. And they wanted a fence. To be fair, that came as no surprise. But what they wanted and what we were prepared to agree to were worlds apart. 

It soon became apparent that people invest a lot of emotional energy into fences and I began to wonder why. Then it dawned on me: Gwen had her story.

What makes writing about fences fascinating is not what they are but what they mean. Fences loom large in our psyche from the immense like The Great Wall of China to our own suburban walls. The fences we build around ourselves define our boundaries and keep what matters to us contained within. They speak to our secret anxieties and our desire to protect what is ours. 

However, think about anytime you have wandered the streets of your own neighbourhood. See a gigantic hedge and you’re immediately intrigued. What are they trying to hide? Impenetrable fences are not only an invitation to curious outsiders, they are advertising for whatever lays beyond.

Our language is rich with fence imagery. The grass is always greener on the other side. The phrase sitting on the fence became fashionable in the 1880s. We build emotional walls, we compartmentalize and when we feel we have damaged relationships we talk of mending fences. Is it any wonder their tangible counterpart stirs great emotion inside us?

So, back to Gwen. 

Her new neighbours are also a young family, although not the one from real life. Francesca and her brood are far, far worse. The issue of whether or not to build a fence would be a short novel indeed were it not for the fact it acted as a springboard to talk about a whole lot of other fascinating issues. Such as, the difference in attitudes to raising children between my parent’s generation and the generation after mine. Gwen is a woman born before women’s lib, Francesca is a product of it. Has feminism given us a good hand or are we still missing a few cards? Was it ever possible to have it all – career, family, economic freedom – at the same time? It’s not only fences that divide opinion.

Researching fence stories made me shake my head in horror. That people have actually died because of neighbourly disputes is terrible. 

Conversely, some neighbour stories are hilarious for the ridiculous lengths people are willing to go to prove a point—as long as it’s not happening to you! 

The best part of publishing The Fence will be hearing everyone else’s fence stories. I’m guessing it will be quite a collection!

Meredith Jaffe will be speaking about her experience as a new author in the session 'Making an entrance: Debut fiction writers' with fellow panelists Nathan Besser and Lexi Landsman, moderated by Alison Green, on Sunday August 28, 4:30pm - 5:30pm at the Sydney Jewish Writers Festival. 


Meredith will also lead the session 'The Keeper of Secrets: In Conversation with Julie Thomas', where author Julie Thomas will reflect on the Jewish stories that inspired her two novels that are set during and in the aftermath of the Holocaust.




Book today at www.sjwf.org.au!

The Magic of Music

By Ida Lichter

Have you ever wondered about the transmission between performing musicians and the audience?

This was one of the questions I discussed with classical musicians when I was exploring the function of music in society. Most of them were members of groups that played chamber music, a genre for the most intimate thoughts and feelings of some of the greatest composers.

Ida Lichter

Most performing artists are convinced that a live audience is required for maximum inspiration and communication. A creative interface exists between performer and audience, involving a reciprocal transfer of emotions where impromptu inventiveness can occur.

Occasionally, there is an exceptional moment. Referring to musicals, the composer and lyricist Stephen Sondheim talked of the need for many laughs and a few moments to cry, along with one hyper moment when members of the audience are aware of a certain joy and a feeling they understand why they are there.

When the interaction between performer and audience is very powerful, listeners may glimpse magnificent, even ethereal beauty. However, the emotional impact of music is idiosyncratic and often depends on the listener’s state of mind.

This magical effect defies easy explanation but the musician’s vision is an important contributing factor. 

Performers are stimulated by the power of imagination. For a singer, the mind paints the picture and the vocal mechanism responds to give the voice colour. When the sound undergoes these changes, the audience reacts.

Re-experiencing a broad range of intense emotions in a safe, controlled environment seems beneficial for listeners and could be considered a form of therapy. Emotions in the music cover the full range from exhilaration to despair. They include love, jealousy, anger, and sadness, and as suggested by research data, even melancholic music can be beneficial. 

Music can engender a sense of mastery. Beethoven in particular, may stimulate feelings of empowerment. There is a majestic, heroic strength in his music, particularly evident in the slow movements of the symphonies.

Beethoven's Piano Sonata
No. 30 in E major, Op. 109

If a performance is convincing, it should trigger many personal associations, not only during a recital, but afterwards as well, if listeners are able to reminisce about the experience.

While listening to music, pleasurable feelings are linked to a variety of physical responses, including shivers and altered heart rate and breathing, probably associated with changes in brain chemistry and the neurotransmitter dopamine. No doubt, any music, whether classical, jazz, or pop can stimulate the brain in similar ways.

The three overlapping circles of a Venn diagram help explain how the emotional transmission is effected. One circle represents the composer’s creation and intention, the second one the artist’s interpretation, and the third the participation of the audience. 

When the three combine to form the overlapping sweet spot in the middle, intense emotional transmission can be realised.

Ida Lichter will be speaking about how musicians and composers use their art to transform our everyday experiences in her session 'Music makers, music lovers' with Stuart Coupe and Michaela Kalowski, on Sunday August 28, 5:45pm - 6:45pm at the Sydney Jewish Writers Festival.


Book today at www.sjwf.org.au!

Writing about others

by Lee Kofman

Soon after my memoir The Dangerous Bride came out, I received an email from a woman who had read my book. 

Her name was Anna, she was of a Russian origin and lived in Melbourne. 

There was also a Russian ‘Anna’ (pseudonym) from Melbourne in my book. The woman felt disturbed by this fact and emailed to assert that she and I had never met. 

Lee Kofman

I don’t want people to think it was me, she wrote. 

This was a puzzling concern, considering that Anna is a name as common among Russians in Australia, as Anne would be amongst people from Anglo-Saxon backgrounds. 

It was even more perplexing since ‘Anna’ in my book is a very minor, non-descript character. All that is known about her is that she is a friend of my aunt and that I briefly housesat in her beautiful home with creamy curtains and a rose-filled garden. I never imagined someone might get upset on the account of my ‘Anna’. 

I did, though, have many other anxieties during the writing of this book. It took me five years to write it and whenever I complained about that to my friends, they’d remind me kindly that at that time I was also completing a PhD, teaching, getting divorced, re-marrying and producing my first child. 

But actually none of these facts explains why it took me so long to write The Dangerous Bride. 

The truth is, I wrote slowly, because writing it terrified me. 

My memoir tells the story of my misadventures in trying out non-monogamous relationships. And of course, as most memoirs are, it is also an expose of other people involved in my story and I felt much guilt about this. 

I worried about misusing the whatever power my pen may possess. Most obvious was my guilt that I was revealing uncomfortable stuff about my former partners. 

Then there was my mother, who frequently features in my work and who – when she knows I’m working on something new - says: ‘Oy vey, Lubochka, what will you write about me now? That I drink vodka and beat up your papa?’ (For the record, she does neither of these things!).

The Dangerous Bride also describes my conversations with other people who experimented with non-monogamy and I worried I wasn’t representing them adequately, and that I’d offend them by describing them the way I saw them. I also worried that people I wrote about could be recognised, so I changed many of their personal details, then worried about the potential loss of authenticity. 

Eventually, my anxiety escalated to the point where every time I sat down to write, I felt my study was crowded, haunted by the ghosts of my characters, and they were all telling me I was completely in the wrong, that I didn’t get them, that I used them, that I was full of shit. 

And yet I had to keep going. 

Before I began this book, for several years I tried not to write it, to write something else, and as a result I got writer’s block. It felt as if the story of my non-monogamous quest was exerting a volcanic pressure upon me and the only way I could release it was to tell it. Besides, I suspected my tale might be of some interest to others too, even those disinterested in non-monogamy, because I was really writing about love, trying to understand its nature, and its relationship to sex and romance and the everyday life. 

So I clenched my teeth, literally, and kept writing.

‘There is a splinter of ice in the heart of a writer,‘ Graham Greene suggested in his autobiography A Sort of Life. 

Joan Didion

Joan Didion, one of my literary idols, echoed him, noting that ‘writers are always selling someone out’. Nonfiction writers and fiction writers whose work is inspired by their lives can be placed on a continuum in terms of their ethical decisions about how they represent others. 

On one end of this continuum sit the toothless books - those which cause no harm and tell no truth. Usually their authors are decent, considerate people who tend to ask their subjects’ permissions even before they start writing, then run their drafts by them, modifying them to gain approval. 

However, while gaining permission may minimise individual hurt and relationship-risk, it usually maximises writing-risk, resulting in work that reflects how other people wish to be seen rather than a writer’s thoughtful analysis of people’s actual behaviour and motives. 

As Helen Garner writes ‘writing, it seems, like bringing up of children, can’t be done without causing damage’. 

The uncomfortable truth is, the marriage between worthy literature and decency is an uneasy one, since describing humans and their relations honestly inevitably requires a measure of hard-heartedness.

On the other end of the continuum Karl Ove Knausgaard sprawls royally with his Proustian autobiographical opus My Struggle consisting of six thick volumes, where he at least appears to tell it all – slashing his own face with a razor, the resentment he often feels towards his wife, his mother-in-law’s secretive alcoholism. 

Karl Ove Knausgaard

While I definitely wouldn’t want to be related to Knausgaard, when I want to get closer to the truth of human experience, I can always turn to his work. 

Yet the price Knausgaard and people close to him pay for the wonderful artwork he produces is a heavy one. It is known, for example, that the publication of My Struggle put enormous strain on his marriage, including possibly triggering a relapse of his wife’s bipolar disorder. 

Fortunately, the ethical terrain between Knausgaard and those non-offensive, and artless, books is vast. To find my own place there, during those five years of torturous writing I managed to establish for myself some ground rules which kept me going. 

Helen Garner was instrumental in building my ethical tool kit. I particularly found useful her fabulous essay ‘I’ which discusses these dilemmas of writing about others. She writes: 

Helen Garner

The deal is this: if I’m rough on myself, it frees me to be rough on others as well. I stress the unappealing, mean, aggressive, unglamorous aspects of myself as a way of lessening my anxiety about portraying other people as they strike me.

In this spirit, I promised my former husband ‘Noah’ that I’d be much harder on myself as a character than on him, and I hope I managed to do so. 

Another strategy I used when writing about others was what I call ‘tell your story, not their secrets’. I took care to only tell those details about my characters which bore direct relevance to my own narrative. This doesn’t mean I did no harm, rather I tried to minimise it as much as I could without compromising the emotional honesty of the work.   

Unpredictably, the eight months since the book’s publication haven’t been as dire as I feared they might. No one but that mysterious Anna has contacted me to complain, and some of the people I interviewed even attended the book launch. 

My mother, to my horror, is currently reading my memoir but it seems that by now she’s so used to being a feature in my work that she no longer bothers to complain. I even get the sense that, secretly, she enjoys being one of my chief muses. 

‘Noah’ simply said he wouldn’t read the book. 

Thus, for me, at least for now, the worst consequences of telling my story played themselves out inside my mind. 

But not all writers are so lucky and sometimes people written about get seriously hurt, as Knausgaard’s case demonstrates. 

From my writer-peers I sometimes hear stories of crumbling relationships, and even attempts at revenge. Yet usually these come from people with whom they had toxic relationships to begin with. 

So yes, writing about others is not for the fainthearted and/or the perfectly decent. But when writers do take real – not tame - risks, the artwork usually shines. 

Still, I am no advocate of utterly ruthless writing and not only for ethical, but also artistic, considerations. The latter kind of writing risks becoming artless, because it may slid into the tedious territory of complaint and revenge. In my view, it is healthy to worry about people we write about not just out of empathy but also because such concern keeps us on our toes, forcing us into scrutiny of our own motives and behaviour, while putting even more effort into understanding others’ perspectives, which is what good writing should do. 

Moreover, the tension generated by such concerns usually makes the resulting works feel urgent not only for writers, but also for the readers.

From my writer-peers I sometimes hear stories of crumbling relationships, and even attempts at revenge. Yet usually these come from people with whom they had toxic relationships to begin with.

Lee Kofman will be speaking about writing about yourself and other characters in her workshop 'Writing yourself and others as characters', on Sunday August 28, 10:00am - 12:00pm at the Sydney Jewish Writers Festival.

Lee will also offer a musical rendition of Yehuda Amichai's poetry with cellist Adi Sappir on Saturday August 27 at 9:00pm, and will be part of the launch of Rebellious Daughters on Sunday August 28, 2:00pm - 3:00pm.

Book today at www.sjwf.org.au!

Ideas and literature shine at Sydney Jewish Writers Festival

We are excited to be back, for the Sydney Jewish Writers Festival (SJWF) returns on 27-28 August 2016! It features a remarkable line-up of international award-winners, thought leaders, acclaimed authors, new talent, and plenty of extraordinary stories.

“We are thrilled to showcase such a fine and fascinating line-up of writers”, said Festival Director Michael Misrachi. 

“They stir us to grapple with big, global issues – war, religious extremism, refugees, end of life, and family dynamics – but also write beautifully and invite us to enjoy the poetry and music of life.”

Opening night is a case in point. It features award-winning Israeli author and journalist Matti Friedman whose new book Pumpkinflowers: A Soldier’s Story was described by Pulitzer Prize-winner Kai Bird as “destined to become a classic text on the absurdities of war” and critique of media coverage of Israel after its 2014 war with Gaza went viral on social media. He discusses Israel’s battle lines with stereotype-defying Rabbi Dov Lipman, former Member of the Knesset and campaigner against religious extremism in Israel.

The panel is followed by cellist and composer Adi Sappir and author Lee Kofman performing an uplifting, musical rendering of the work of Yehuda Amichai, modern Israel’s most beloved poet.

US-based author Dina Gold shares her
incredible search and long legal battle to reclaim a building that belonged to her German-Jewish family but was stolen by the Nazis, in the spirit of the Helen Mirren movie Woman In Gold. Precious possessions lost during the Holocaust also feature in the fiction of New Zealand author, Julie Thomas.

SJWF will host the Sydney launch of Rebellious Daughters and feature hot-off-the-press authors Steven Amsterdam, Nathan Besser and MeredithJaffe.

“We are struck every year by the wealth of Jewish literature being published”, enthused Misrachi, “There has been a flurry of excellent Jewish writing in the months leading up to the festival!”

Leading figures David Gonski and Mark Tedeschi open up about their writing, along with Mireille Juchau, whose recent masterpiece The World Without Us won the 2016 Victorian Premier's Literary Award for Fiction and was shortlisted for The Stella Prize and Australian Book Industry Award.

SJWF features prolific acclaimed author Arnold Zable, who will also talk about his work as a refugee advocate with Kooshyar Karimi, who shares his experience as a Jewish-Iranian refugee who languished in Turkey for years.

Holocaust survivor Baba Schwartz tells her story publicly for the first time, recounting the horrors of Auschwitz as well as her happy childhood in Hungary, a period often overshadowed by the subsequent tragedy. She is joined by Frank Vajda and Marcel Weyland, who were both saved by Righteous of the Nations – Raoul Wallenberg and Chiune Sugihara respectively.

SJWF offers writing workshopsfor adults with Lee Kofman and for children with word play extraordinaire Erica Bentel, in conjunction with PJ Library. There is also a special parent-child session with the mother-daughter creative genius behind Tashi, Barbara and Anna Fienberg.

SJWF will once again be hosted by Waverley Council, with events taking place at the Bondi Pavilion and Waverley Library.

For further information or to book tickets, visit www.sjwf.org.au

2015 Sydney Jewish Writers Festival highlights

By Sharon Berger

Memories of last week’s hugely successful Sydney Jewish Writers Festival may be fading but at least we still have the books to read and DVDs to watch, plus the photos on our facebook page.  Please feel free to tag yourself.

Dr Dvir Abramovich, Gideon Raff and Jennifer Teege

Emmy-award winning creator/director of Homeland and Prisoners of War, Gideon Raff, was hugely popular in his sold-out session with moderator Michaela Kalowski. Together they delved into the very different reception that prisoners of war receive in both the US and Israel. These differences lie at the core of his decision in differentiating the two series, which are both based on the idea of soldiers returning home after many years in captivity. It was a privilege to hear more about his motivation to make the series and also the Israeli public’s reaction to the Prisoners of War.

Michaela Kalowski in conversation with Gideon Raff

The 'Facing Adversity' session, with authors Martin Chimes and Greg Fisher, moderated by Shirli Kirschner, was also standing room only. Many of Martin’s family and friends made the effort to come hear more about his novel, The Lion’s Den, as well as his struggle with cancer. Kirschner adeptly weaved his struggle with that of Greg Fisher, who overcame drug addiction and eight years in jail to turn his life around. 

Booksigning with Martin Chimes, Greg Fisher and Philip Mendes

Other stand-out sessions included former Deputy Prime Minister Tim Fischer speaking about General John Monash as well as German-Nigerian author Jennifer Teege, who spoke about her incredible journey discovering the gruesome truth about her family in her book, My Grandfather Would Have Shot Me.

Tim Fischer

Festival-goers appreciated “the excellent homework done by all the moderators, as well as the generosity and openness of the authors.” Additional evaluation feedback included “Each one was so unique  yet powerful and moving – wonderful human stories. … Thanks for a stimulating and inspirational day! ”

Book sales, courtesy of Lindfield Bookshop, were brisk and patrons appreciated the opportunity to get up close and personal with the authors at the book signings.

Gideon Raff with fans

Everyone enjoyed the Festival's new venue, Waverley Library, which allowed for larger sessions, dining space and easy access.

Parents enjoyed the opportunity for their children to attend the PJ Library/Arty Start workshop where kids aged 6-8 were able to write and illustrate their own story. 

PJ Library art activity

There were also a number of sessions aimed at parents including 'Will the kids be alright?' with parenting experts Joanne Fedler, Dr Arne Rubinstein and teenage depression survivor Adam Schwartz. 

Will the kids be alright panel?

Until 2016...! Let us know if you have any wonderful Jewish authors you would like to see at next year’s festival, and keep in touch with Jewish writing in Sydney and around the world by liking us on Facebook.

Photos courtesy of David Sokol Photography. 

Sydney's wealthy worlds

By Ros Reines

Ros Reines 

Soon after my latest novel, The Social Diary (Allen & Unwin), was published earlier this year, people kept asking me who the characters were based on and whether or not the story line actually happened.

This is one of the drawbacks of being a journalist turned novelist, many readers forget that a novel is first and foremost a work of fiction. Many expected that I had simply threaded my Sunday Telegraph' gossip columns together and connected them with a plot. If only it was that easy.

A lot of champagne is consumed in The Social Diary

Perhaps it's  to be expected because just like my column, much of The Social Diary, is set in Sydney's eastern suburbs but it's back in the eighties, which was a key moment in the city's social history. This was when the `old money' set was suddenly swamped by a brash breed of entrepreneurs who cared little for traditional social mores. They were outrageously flashy and downright decadent, taking over the restaurants for endless lunches and almost draining the city of vintage French bubbles. 

Even more confronting, while the establishment families had always shunned mentions in the media, the new guard thrived on it - however they didn't just want their pictures just  in the social pages but splashed across  the front page. They were contenders not pretenders.

Meanwhile they held over-the-top parties, which almost rivalled  the recent wedding of Auburn deputy mayor, Salim Mehajer. But unfortunately while eighties' entrepreneurs had plenty of choppers at their disposal none had thought of hiring fighter jets to make a statement.

Salim arrives by helicopter for his lavish wedding which reportedly cost $1.4 million.

The central figure in The Social Diary is a gossip columnist, Savannah Stevens who resists certain identities who try to bribe her to put them in the paper and she also has to dodge the odd  businessmen who is desperate to stop her writing unflattering stories about them. Finally she has to make the ultimate choice: Does she take on a thrillingly precarious life with a new partner or sacrifice it for a career changing story? It's a moral dilemma.

And just like Savannah, I am also a columnist  and I was working as a journalist in Sydney back in the eighties, having just returned from London as a music writer. There are a lot of similarities between Savannah and myself because it's always easier to write about something you know well but I am not Savannah.

So is my novel inspired by  real identities and are any of them Jewish?

Certainly there are lots of diverse  characters in the  book whom you might recognise. After all, when it comes to being colourful and flamboyant, the Jewish community have pretty much got that covered thanks to our rich culture, our sardonic humour and the resilience that is part of our DNA. We might be only a small community in numbers but it is almost impossible not to write a novel set in Sydney's east without at least one Jewish cameo.

Double Bay cafe

However in The Social Diary, the identity of those who inspired the characters has been well concealed so as not to offend.  There's only a fleeting glimpse of few identities and also restaurants and bars that once existed in the heart of Double Bay.

Right now I am working on the sequel, which is set in the current time in Sydney and Melbourne and there will also be people leaping from the pages whom you might recognise -  but it is first and foremost a novel.

Ros Reines and Eva Novy will talk about Double Bay and much more in their session with Kathy Shand, Schmoozing in the Eastern Suburbs on Sunday August 30, 5:45pm - 6:45pm at the Sydney Jewish Writers Festival. 

Book today at www.sjwf.org.au