I found the writing in this famous novel to be rather overwrought. It lacked a truly great plot arc that could have held my attention firmly throughout.

However, I must admit that Hazzard's gift to readers lies in her remarkable ability to describe a scene. The scenes set in Australia, in particular, felt incredibly convincing. It was as if I could step right into those vivid landscapes and experience them for myself. Additionally, she has a prodigious vocabulary, which enabled me to learn many new words related specifically to Australia.

Unfortunately, I wish I could have liked "The Transit of Venus" more. Most every chapter started out well, showing great promise. But by the third page, there would be six people engaged in a conversation, and the story would suddenly stop flowing smoothly. As a result, I simply couldn't develop a deep attachment with the characters.

I am a die-hard John Steinbeck fan. His writing is refreshingly simple, his plots are truly amazing, and his dialogue is usually one-on-one, which makes it easy to follow and engage with. Sadly, "Transit" just didn't meet any of these criteria for me.

Nevertheless, I can still give it 3 stars for those moments of deeply descriptive imagery that managed to capture my imagination.

4.5 stars

This rating of 4.5 stars truly speaks volumes about the quality and excellence of the subject at hand. It indicates that it has almost reached the pinnacle of perfection, with only a slight margin for improvement. The fact that it has achieved such a high rating implies that it has impressed and satisfied a large number of people.

Perhaps it is because of its outstanding features, which could include its functionality, design, or performance. It might offer unique and valuable benefits that set it apart from its competitors.

Moreover, the 4.5-star rating also reflects the positive experiences and feedback of those who have used it. Their satisfaction is a testament to its reliability and effectiveness.

In conclusion, a 4.5-star rating is a remarkable achievement that showcases the subject's superiority and desirability. It is a rating that should be celebrated and recognized as a symbol of excellence.

Damn you, Shirley Hazzard! Why?! I wanted to throw something at someone when I finished reading this. I immediately went right back to the beginning and skimmed my way through the entire novel once again.

“You owe your existence to astronomy, young woman.”

I’ve been meaning to get to this one for a long time. Something about the title always caught my eye. I had to look up the significance of that title, from an astronomy standpoint, because one of the supporting characters in this novel happens to be an astronomer. According to space.com, when Venus crosses in front of the sun, astronomers refer to this as a transit. As the planet moves along its orbital path, it will travel across the solar disk, making it appear to observers on Earth as a small black blemish on the face of the sun. Due to the tilt of the planet's orbit, transits of Venus are some of the rarest astronomical sights because they only occur in pairs eight years apart, once every 100 years or so.

Enough said about that, because if you read this, you’ll want to make your own discoveries of how this might relate to the lives of the characters themselves. The story covers a period of twenty to thirty years in the lives of primarily two orphaned sisters, Grace and Caroline Bell. We become wrapped up in their relationships with their lovers, their spouses, and their joyless half-sister, Dora. The untimely death of their parents, and consequently being raised by the always-morbid, martyred Dora by default, influences and shapes the trajectory of the rest of the sisters’ lives.

“Years were missing, as from amnesia, and the only influential action of her life had been the common one of giving birth. The accidental foundering of her parents had remained larger than any conscious exploit of her own, and was still her only way to cause a stir.”

There’s a lot more than meets the eye in this brilliant novel. Attention to detail is key. And I mean key! Don’t fall asleep while reading this one. There are the cultural differences between Australia and England post-World War II. Differences in class and gender are highlighted in England. Grace and Caroline ultimately seem to represent two different types of women during that time – the married, settled wife of a wealthy husband versus the working class woman. Marriage, unrequited love, and adultery are explored. But Shirley Hazzard is sharp. None of this is sentimental or gratuitous – and not once did she seem to point a finger or shake her head. If anything, Shirley Hazzard would shake her head at missed opportunities. A young doctor, in a scene that left me gutted, says, “Do you not think I see it constantly, the dying who’ve not lived? It is what we are being, not what we are to be. Rather, they are the same thing.”

“… the tragedy is not that love doesn’t last. The tragedy is the love that lasts.”

I’ve been listening to singer/songwriter Dido quite a bit lately, and the song “Chances” has been going through my head all day while I’ve reflected on what the hell to say about this novel that has left me a bit speechless, really. So maybe give a listen to that song. And pay attention to the quotes I’ve shared. They express a lot more eloquence than does the old cliché “life is short.”

“At first, there is something you expect of life. Later, there is what life expects of you. By the time you realize these are the same, it can be too late for expectations.”

An incredible book indeed!

Charlotte Wood's discussion about it is truly remarkable and expresses its essence more eloquently than I could ever hope to.

The link provided, https://sydneyreviewofbooks.com/trans..., offers further insights and perspectives on this amazing work.

It's fascinating to explore the thoughts and ideas shared in that review, which likely delves deeper into the themes, characters, and literary craftsmanship of the book.

Whether you're a book lover or simply curious about great literature, this book and the associated discussion are definitely worth checking out.

They have the potential to open up new worlds of imagination and understanding, leaving you with a profound appreciation for the power of words and storytelling.

So, don't miss out on this opportunity to discover an incredible book and engage with its thought-provoking discussion.

Dense, rich, mature, tragic.

There’s a heaviness to this book, an emotional weight that’s rare, and it had an appalling effect on me. It can almost be described as an emotional horror story, where hard-hearted life itself is the slow killer.

There’s a lot to say about it, and I’m still processing, so most of my thoughts will go unaired here. But if you want to sink your teeth into something gorgeous, by a writer whose psychological insight is beyond, just superhuman, then make sure you read this novel one day, when the time’s right.

Recently I’ve been thinking more than usual about the very nature of literary fiction, and this book has brought home to me the fact that it is not a term to be defined, but an experience to be surrendered to – not to be explained, though we can keep trying.

This thing was shaped and designed by a superior intelligence and aesthete. That’s all I want, really: to be blown away by the special mind of an artist.

It took me a bit of time in the beginning to find my feet, but after the first couple of chapters I felt myself settling in and it became more readable.

Despite my overall appreciation, I was frustrated by the affair between the characters Caroline and Paul. It was so cliched, but it was interesting that it was purposely so. I’m not sure why. I think maybe Hazzard might be insisting that so much of the manufactured, the created intensities and high drama, the unreality of love stories in literature may seem fanciful, but are no less rightful, legitimate.

Life is full of chaos and accident but it doesn’t have to explain itself, so why should literature? Anyway my frustration was a matter of personal taste and attitude: I’m not that interested in certain kinds of romance stories in fiction.

But regardless, this novel is glorious, dense with brilliant one-liners on almost every one of its 337 pages. This thing is a dark disturbing beauty.

The story of the observation of the Transit of Venus in the 1760s (a story incredibly fascinating in itself) is not just a pretext for a plot - the story follows the movements of the astronomers and the observation points in the movements of the characters - but the very fabric of this novel, capable of enriching both the historical event and the fictional story with meanings such as to give a distinct portrait of human nature according to Shirley Hazzard.

Besides the structure, the dense and at the same time elegant writing creates spaces in which the gestures and events of the protagonists assume unexpected depth, and where especially careful reading, and possibly multiple rereadings, help to discover the solution of the story, because Hazzard hides the information like only the best mystery writers and the best trolls. She is much admired (I don't yet know if for good or for bad).

Finishing "Light Years" by James Salter, an author renowned as a 'writer’s writer', was accomplished with a sense of pride. I not only devoured the book but also experienced moments of euphoria while reading it. However, this book soon brought me back to reality, and I faced significant difficulties. The vocabulary was overwhelming, and I eventually gave up looking up definitions. I believe this was due in part to the specific choice of words. While I can find great pleasure in learning new words to describe previously unknown feelings or sensations, in this book, the words were for things and places that I will likely never use again in either written or spoken language. Moreover, the writing style was so cryptic that it felt as if nothing was stated directly in the entire 350 pages. I enjoy the mental stimulation of understanding something and seeing how it fits or challenges my worldview, rather than trying to piece together what is happening. For example, a chapter begins with the statement 'In America, a white man had been shot dead in a car, and a black man on a veranda'. This may work in this instance, but imagine a reference to an event you have no prior knowledge of. Apparently, such references occur frequently, with people, places, and poems requiring deciphering. It's not just limited to the setting; even the characters' actions are often described indirectly. The point is, I prefer clear and concise storytelling over difficult prose.

Hidden behind these, for lack of a better term, puzzles is a story that spans several decades and countries, with themes similar to those in the works of Salter and Yates, such as deceit, adultery, and unsatisfactory marriages. This was probably what initially attracted my interest. However, the reading experience was so糟糕 that I began to reflect on reading itself. I recently turned thirty, and I had read somewhere that this is the optimal age to immerse oneself in texts, having passed the stage of youthful 'know-it-all-ness' and not yet being fully influenced by one's own life experiences. After delving deeply into this book, I am now thinking that perhaps it is time to step back and focus on the real world and real life. This includes making money, raising a family, setting up life insurance, buying fast cars and big yachts, and sending the kids off to college. I don't have any regrets; in fact, it was enjoyable, and I feel I have learned a lot about life, perhaps more about the negatives than I would like. Or perhaps I am again visiting the thought that it is indeed the reader and writer who have a predisposition for disappointments, solitariness, and melancholy. The winners in this world are out there taking on challenges, raising twins, taking risks, wheeling and dealing - not buried in a book. So maybe it's time for me to take what I've learned and put it into action. Of course, I will still read the occasional book, but I will no longer make reading one of the focal points of my life. Especially after reading this book, these feelings have been intensified.

Now I am left scouring the one-star reviews in the hope of patching up my wounded ego. And there is some solace to be found there - there are plenty of DNFs (Did Not Finish), accusations of pretentious writing, and perhaps the most accurate description of 'the longest 350-page book I had ever read'.

Upwards and onwards.

I need to be clear about this: if Goodreads allowed me to give six stars to a book, I would do it for this one.

This was not just a book; it was an experience. In fact, it was like a dream.

As I delved into its pages, I felt the same excitement and thrill that I had when I was an undergraduate, first discovering the true magic of reading literature.

The words seemed to dance off the page, captivating my imagination and taking me on a journey like no other.

Each chapter was a new adventure, filled with vivid descriptions, complex characters, and a plot that kept me on the edge of my seat.

I found myself completely immersed in the story, unable to put the book down until I had reached the very end.

This book has truly left an indelible mark on me, and I will cherish the experience of reading it for a long time to come.

I highly recommend it to anyone who loves literature and is looking for a truly unforgettable read.

Brilliant, gorgeous, searing - these are the words that come to mind when I think of this book, which has become one of my new (and rare) gold standards.

As many others have already pointed out, this is a book that is truly worth sticking with. I myself actually attempted to read the first few chapters last year, but I wasn't immediately captivated. However, this time around, I had no trouble getting into it. That being said, there does come a point in the latter third of the book where the story can feel a bit of a slog. But the reward of Hazzard's prose throughout is more than worth it. Her descriptions and observations are nothing short of amazing. They are so smart, so perfectly and often devastatingly wrought. It is no small feat to be able to draw readers into the minds and under the skin of the characters the way she does here, while also managing to maintain a truly unique omniscient narrative voice. To those who believe that only macho males can pull off the knowing, confident, god-like authorial point of view, I say, "pah!" Hazzard can hold her own with the best of them.

And then there is that ending. I won't spoil it here, but it is masterfully done - masterfully manipulated, in fact, in the way that only great writers can do, so that it seems inevitable. In this case, it is also devastating, considering that this is an epic love story. How often do you come across a love story that is as intelligent and well-written as this one? It's truly a gem.

Some years ago, I had the pleasure of reading a captivating New Yorker story by Hazzard titled "In These Islands."

So enthralled was I that I read it a second time immediately. I then turned back to the very first page and delved into it once more. And yes, I even read it a third time.

There are writers who are known for their expansiveness, like the late DFW, Whitman, and Henry Miller. Then there are those who fuse language in a crucible, such as Dickinson, Laura Riding, and George Oppen. Poets more often than novelists, that is... although McCarthy has transitioned from one to the other, from the expansive Sutree to the compression of The Road.

No one can capture a character with a passing phrase quite like Hazzard. What reminds me of Dickinson here is not her poems, but rather her letters. "My parents," she writes to Higgenson, "address every morning an eclipse they call 'our father.'"

This novel is a form of poetry. It is visionary, compressed into a kind of breathless irony that leaves the reader in awe and longing for more.

First published in 1980, this novel is described on the Virago website as follows:

Caro, gallant and adventurous, is one of two Australian sisters who have come to post-war England to seek their fortunes. Courted long and hopelessly by young scientist, Ted Tice, she is to find that love brings passion, sorrow, betrayal and finally hope. The milder Grace seeks fulfilment in an apparently happy marriage. But as the decades pass and the characters weave in and out of each other's lives, love, death and two slow-burning secrets wait in ambush for them.

That's a rather fair summing-up, yet it's far more complex than it sounds. There are numerous nuances here, and none of the characters are particularly likable, neither Caro nor Grace. Everyone is either too cold, callous and self-absorbed, or needy, or pitiful. Each character is stripped down to their most horrible flaws, and it all feels very British! It reminded me of the characters in the series House of Elliot, and the sisters' struggle to live their own lives, separate from those who always "know better". And that British "keeping up appearances" isn't confined to the early last century either - as seen in John le Carre's The Constant Gardener with the horrible characters of Sandy and the "top knobs" at the British embassy - fictional, but still reflective. Characters like Christian, Grace's husband, are, in what I consider a British expression, "insufferable" to me.

"Christian Thrale credited himself with special sensibilities towards pictures. In galleries where art had been safely institutionalized, he walked and paused like all the rest, yet believed his own stare more penetrating than most; and, when others strolled ahead, would linger, patently engrossed beyond the ordinary." (p.189)

These characters are great to read about, and great to despise. The men are so patriarchal as to be inherently misogynistic. Christian's affair with a secretary at work is another instance where his motivations and methods are laid bare, honest yet repugnant. But the women don't escape either - the only character with any spunk at all is one of Caro's co-workers at the government offices where she works as a typist/secretary/tea-maker, a woman called Valda, who says to Caro:

"You feel downright disloyal to your experience, when you do come across a man you could like. By then you scarcely see how you can decently make terms, it's like going over to the enemy. And then there's the waiting. Women have got to fight their way out of that dumb waiting at the end of the never-ringing telephone. The'receiver', as our portion of it is called."

And then: "There is the dressing up, the hair, the fingernails. The toes. And, after all that, you are a meal they eat while reading the newspaper. I tell you that every one of those fingers we paint is another nail in their eventual coffins." To which Caroline thinks, "All this was indisputable, even brave. But was a map, from which rooms, hours, and human faces did not rise; on which there was no bloom of generosity or discovery. The omissions might constitute life itself; unless the map was intended as a substitute for the journey." (pp. 142-143)

Valda is obviously one of the first feminists, and also liberal-minded: she sews on her boss's button, her boss who is 'no good at these things', and later asks him to fix her typewriter ribbon, as she is 'no good at these things', to which he replies she should get another girl to do it, and must personally oversee this as Valda insists he do it.

This book offers a great insight into the early-mid decades of the 20th century in all its grittiness and human foibles. Dora, Grace and Caro's older half-sister, is also "insufferable", though in the classic way: she is pessimistic, unlovable almost, for being totally self-absorbed in the most negative, vocal way. She is almost a comic character, an exaggeration, yet the way she is written you can only feel sorry for her and her lost life.

Of Hazzard's writing, it has been described thus: "Hazzard is noted for the insight, sensitivity, and subtlety of her writing and for a lyrical style sometimes leavened by gentle irony." I would say, firstly, that it is dense, that there is so much to absorb in a single paragraph, which is why it took me so long to read. An example (and I open the book at random):

"In secret Caro dwelt on the release from emotional obligation, and could see how indifference might become seductive. What Josie took for exposure on Caro's part had been an offering of trust - a test the girl had failed, over and over. Trust would be offered repeatedly, but not indefinitely." (p.209)

There are passages of true poetry (to me):

"Beside the chill drama of Paul's marriage, played out in its interesting setting of worldly success, Caro's wound must blanch to a light stroke of experience that it would be tiresome to display. Caro would be instructed, not questioned; would be addressed, with knowing interpolations: 'That alas is the way it goes'; 'Something we must rectify.' Paul, not Caro, would interpret the degree of meaning in their respective lots. That had been decided, as he sat speaking intimately of his life to the person most excluded from it - in order to readmit her to the intimacy though not the life." (p.133)

There is an interesting passage towards the end, when Caro reflects on her life, having finally got rid of Paul's spectre after he tells her his big secret and what was forever persistent between them dies while at the same time she realises her love for dear old Ted, that is interesting and reminded me of Berkley's philosophy (I use the word lightly, as I think it's a crap idea based on a gross assumption). In the book:

"Caro had walked in the streets and thought about Ted Tice. She had sat to her work and feared to die without seeing him again. One day she had written on the page where she was working: 'If he came now, I would do whatever he asked.' If Ted were to die, the world would be a room where no one looked at her." (p.324)

It made me think back to first year philosophy (which I detested, but that is beside the point), and Berkley's hypothesis that things only exist insomuch or insofar as we are here to look at them, and that they continue to exist after we have turned our backs/left the room etc, because God is there to look, and is always looking. Hence do things "exist". That is my gross summing-up, of which I'm sure I've taken many liberties. I won't go into why it's such crap, as I would think that would be obvious to anyone, but with this idea at the back of my mind I interpreted the line about Caro not existing without Ted to look upon her as one that greatly summed up her character, and many other people in the world, who do not feel complete when alone, really, truly alone, or do not feel that they are a part of the world at all: alienated. What is that line from that silly song? "Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow." Yes, everyone does, everyone needs to feel love, and feel loved. Or they take a gun to a school like Dawson College in Montreal and express themselves that way.

I thought how sad Caro was, that she was so dependent, just like her sisters - but really, it's an ugly truth: we are all dependent on our own images and ideas of ourselves, more so than the ones others have of us, and to break away from the first sphere of our existence is to float adrift, with no purpose, no identity. Like Christian, who thinks so highly of himself and so can live with himself because he meets his own ideas of upper class (and there is a lot of emphasis on class in this book). Like Dora, who is tiresome, exhausting, depressing. But she has always been that way, and there is safety in it, and she exists. She is determined people not forget her, even if they are forced to recall her.

This is a bleakly honest look at ordinary people living in an ordinary world, a love story in effect, but not a happy one, not really. There is so much here, to dissect, to discuss, I could not possibly encompass it all. And I will have to read it again, to really take it all in, but I'm not looking forward to it. Like a great foreign film or documentary, it's worth watching, but not fun.

I had heard about Hazzard when Anita Shriver said in an interview that she is her favorite author and "Venus" is near perfection. My first encounter with Hazzard was through the fascinating and complex "Great Fire." And truly, in my opinion, "Venus" is just about the perfect novel.

It is a coming-of-age story of two dissimilar sisters, who are strangers in a strange land. They are Aussies transplanted to England. Much of the narrative is almost in a stream-of-consciousness style, with often-dreamlike dialogue. The language used is simply gorgeous.

The protagonist is the older sister, Caro, who opts for a less-traditional lifestyle compared to her younger and more timid sister. Caro is seduced and then abandoned by the charming but married Paul, all the while denying the lifelong adoration of the deserving Ted. Eventually, Caro marries a rich American and becomes a widow. Then, Paul shows up again with a very shocking revelation that makes Caro realize how fortunate she was to be rid of him. Ted and Caro finally reconnect, and the enigmatic ending - is she killed in a plane crash? - is very satisfying. We had been told early on that Ted is to be a suicide; does he kill himself for her love? However, this is hardly just a story of unrequited love. What a masterful writer Hazzard is to spin such an intellectually challenging tale!

PS Gee, I thought I had an extensive vocabulary until I read Hazzard. She has me reaching for the Webster's many times!