The notion of not really getting the full take on current events, seemed as probable in events in that era. I had been leaning up at the windowsill, listening in an idle way, not much concerned whether they saw me, but at that I sank down out of sight and crouched against the wall, making myself shrink to the smallest volume. The portrayals of the historical characters are entirely plausible developments from the historical record.

She and John and their infant son landed in a new, raw, violent, hungry penal colony – a thousand convicts and a couple of hundred guards – six months’ sail from home. I felt him chuckle with pleasure when I got the knack of the little movement that made the milk hiss against the inside of the pail. The technical storage or access is strictly necessary for the legitimate purpose of enabling the use of a specific service explicitly requested by the subscriber or user, or for the sole purpose of carrying out the transmission of a communication over an electronic communications network.

He put his hand on his heart with a delicate movement, a caress of himself, fingers spread on his coat, and tilted his head questioningly, submissively, yearningly. The myth about Elizabeth is that, when John was away in England for two long periods, she kept the family sheep empire going, a loving, industrious, pious helpmeet to her husband. This playful ruse makes the novel an immersive fictional experience but it also adds to the sense of what went unsaid both in the historic documents Elizabeth left behind and concerning the circumstances that led this couple who came from humble origins to build a lucrative Australian wool industry. A theme it shares with A Room Made of Leaves is colonization and the exploitation of the indigenous people. However, upon reading the authors notes at the end of the book I discovered that in fact the story that I had just read was actual fiction and the editors notes at the beginning where in fact false.

I was hoping this story would be more about her character and establishing and running Elizabeth Farm in her husband's absences but this seemed to be only a footnote at the end of the novel. Forced to travel with him to New South Wales, she arrives to find Sydney Town a brutal, dusty, hungry place of makeshift shelters, failing crops, scheming, and rumours. All told, this book is like True History Of The Kelly Gang meets Jane Austen – absorbing and intriguing.

I was hot with a sudden shame for being wilful, as well as for having no looks and no portion, ashamed that no one would want me. Her novels have won many awards both in Australia and the UK, several have been made into major feature films, and all have been translated into European and Asian languages. Australian history, like most histories, is a bit light-on when it comes to women, because they left so little behind.

It also touched on the frontier violence in the early days of colonisation in Australia, but then sort of breezed on by. She's published eight books of fiction, including the multiple prize-winners 'The Secret River', 'The Lieutenant', 'The Idea of Perfection', and 'Lilian's Story'. Indeed most of the people Elizabeth encounters regard the indigenous people as ‘savages’, referring to them as ‘our sable brethren’. Mr Kingdon must have tried to offer some kind of irritating comfort, in which a reverend like him was well practised, because there was a sharp edge when she answered.Elizabeth reflects at the end with much remorse the cost of all of her success to the detriment of the original peoples of the land. The slipping of the mask gave me a way to sneak in behind the myth and explore something more interesting, and possibly more true. She shrivelled, took to her bed, went into glum silent abstractions by the fire, punctuated with sighs that made me tiptoe away, frightened of this adult despair.

I just felt that Grenville literally rewrote a real woman's experience to suit the point she wanted to make; especially given she frames the book as though the diary is real, then admits at the end it isn't.I barely understood what a sister was, still hoping this new creature in the house, this squalling red bully, was only temporary.