Alice and March

Elsewhere has much much much better photos of Alice Springs than the dozen or so I took so I won't waste anyone's time trying to upload mine. (Yes, this is mostly technophobia. I don't talk about it much anymore but I handwrote all my uni work - including my Honours thesis - I paid a typist back in the days when they were still around - and the first time I touched a computer keyboard was when I started my first office job where I was APPALLING. Not quite liquid papering the screen but close.)

Also, I read March on Sunday. It is actually rather good, really charming. Well done, Ms Brooks! I especially liked this acknolwedgement at the end where she unreservedly retracts her previous characterisation of her husband as a Civil War bore because somewhere along a sunken road near a battlefield she caught the bug too.

I guess the fact that someone can come along 140 years after Little Women and imagine the history of what the absent father is another example of what I was talking about with Austen a few months ago: women's fiction dealing with the domestic; money and business only being relevant if they relate to someone's marital prospects and wars can be happening very much off stage.