Review – Heroines: An Anthology of Short Fiction & Poetry, Volume 3

***CONTENT WARNING: References to  domestic violence and assault***
[Image description: Pensive young girl with brown skin and black braids looking at the camera, her face partly obscured by pink flowers.]

[Image description: Pensive young girl with brown skin and black braids looking at the camera, her face partly obscured by pink flowers.]

When I purchased a copy of Heroines: An Anthology of Short Fiction & Poetry, Volume 3 (2020) recently, I couldn’t resist writing another review. Edited by Sarah Nicholson and Lore White, the third edition of Heroines thrums with the heat and hidden desires of fierce girls and women across the ages. These sharp-tongued, spell-wielding heroines battle the patriarchy in the medieval and magical worlds they inhabit. Some perish, punished for their brazenness. Others defy the odds and outsmart unwitting foes.

The poetry and short fiction stories in Heroines differ as widely as the authors, who are Aboriginal, Vietnamese-Australian, Lebanese-Australian, and queer, among other identities. The first poem in the Anthology is ‘Medusa’s Daughter’ (p. 1), co-written by local Illawarra collective, Medusa’s Daughters (Zoe Ridgway, Jamilla Dempsey, Adara Enthaler, and Isabella Luna). This evocative free verse poem shifts perspective from an individual girl to a chorus of girls, lamenting a universal mother (Medusa) who has met her downfall. Through the clever interweaving of mythical figures and references, the poem pledges that young women will rise up against male domination, drawing on the strength and grace of the Greek goddess within us all.

my mother’s ghost blesses it with pistachios and perseverance / says, take your time / I unhinge my jaw and birth infinite possibilities / monster and maiden / ask me what I am and I will say: melliferous

Queer writer Isabella Luna, a member of Medusa’s Daughters, also has a solo poem featured in Heroines. ‘Chaos’ (p. 55) crackles with a similar power and cadence to ‘Medusa’s Daughter’. It tells of the birth of Hectate in an eruption of stars; of the eternal battles of ancient Gods and the scars of women who taste power on their tongues. It’s an ode to feminine bodies as weapons of love and shields against darkness.

Know Us. As a menagerie of beasts, a menagerie of woman. A chimera of sky, sea, and earth … We are here, open.

Judi Morison’s ‘Home Safe’ (p. 105) is a heartfelt historical tale about a young Gamilaroi girl called Twyla, who is living on a white settlement run by a Reverand. Morison, who has Gamilaroi and Celtic heritage, interweaves words in Gamilaroi language to emphasise Twyla’s culture and heritage. In the tradition of the Stolen Generations, it’s hinted that Twyla has been taken from her parents and adopted into a white family as a domestic helper. As she struggles to reconcile her faith in Jesus and God with the racism she witnesses, a traumatic encounter with a white man reinforces her resilience. Unlike many colonial stories about Aboriginal people, Twyla doesn’t need a White Saviour. Rather, her own quick wits and bravery are her armour, as well as her kinship ties with an Aboriginal man called Garruu (Uncle).

She knows she and Garruu will have to be even more careful now, but she’s grateful that the other men think so little of Dolphin, or Garruu would never have gotten away with fighting a whitefella – and winning.

The final story in the Anthology is ‘Waiting’ by Sikwasa Van Zutphen (p. 128): a confronting depiction of a woman waiting to die after being assaulted by her husband. Through the introspective thoughts of Kate, the protagonist, we learn about the happy early days of her marriage through to her husband’s escalating alcoholism and violence. Sadly, the themes in this story are all too relevant in our current political climate. It’s a heavy note to end on, but it rings true.

Death, I have learned, very rapidly collapses the tower. It pulls its foundations from beneath it, and lets it fall heavily where gravity commands, knees upon tiles.

Overall, the third edition of Heroines bubbles with the emotional turmoil and catharsis of scarred, sometimes broken girls and women. Its power lies in the quiet poignancy of the character’s words and wills: the whispered exchanges between friends, the silent promises to protect daughters and granddaughters from the hands of men. You can order a copy here!

If this book review has raised any issues for you, please contact a 24-hour helpline:
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