Sunday, February 11, 2024


 

 

Market

  

A market shows a difference of colour and the possibility of taste especially when an assortment of nylon and lace are mounted. It could be that sizes are too small too young and not tolerable for the older wearer if the decoration is suggestive, but a younger buyer might determine the daintiness of the objects swinging, and there is a spectacle swinging in the breeze which makes for a sniggering and in any case these showy garments once bought will later be undercover or rolled away nicely, nicely in a top drawer with perfumed liners. The amusing side might bring back pleasure each time the buyer slips these panties on, possibly remembering those colourful cartwheels of fitted pink and lime lace and the lengths to which the market stall proudly boasted skimpy, skimpy.


COPYRIGHT MATERIAL (c) 2024


 

Saturday, January 6, 2024

The Ozone Café is about three separate owners of the café and its demise through political corruption. 
Hagemann delivers a vision of 1960s and ’70s life in a small NSW Central Coast town. The novel is a homage to a café of the same name and of a distinctive P&O design in her hometown of Ettalong, New South Wales. It is also about the struggle of past and present cafe owners to save the cafe from demolition. Here are my cafe owners: -

Vincenzo Polamo, a Calabrian, builds the Ozone Café with his builder-brother in 1957 in fictional Satara Bay. He meets three children, Winifred, Casey, and Nicolas, creating a seascape mural on a café wall that includes them. The café changes from Italian to Australian cuisine. However, due to long hours of hard work and Vincenzo’s wife unwilling to migrate to Australia, Vincenzo sells the café.

Joe Pendlebury suffers setbacks with too few customers, poor health and problems due to a violent storm causing structural damage close to the mural.  In major scenes, Pendlebury goes missing, and Nicolas dies from muscular dystrophy, heightening Winifred’s concerns to keep the mural sacred.

Con & Dion Lasaridis experience problems with the damage. Unable to convince the Heytesbury Shire the café is sound after a rebuild, they lose ownership in a court battle; the Shire evoking a Demolition Order, 1946. The Lasaridis believe this is due to an undercurrent of well-known council corruption; Mayor Tyrone being a principal player in corrupt land and property dealings. Vincenzo (et al) removes the mural reinstating it at his home. The mural becomes a lasting memorial to Nicolas Battersby, as well as the sole surviving piece of The Ozone Café.


 At the time of commencing the novel, I had very little to go on. Then half-way through I discovered a pic of the Ozone posted on Gosford's Historical Library page on FLICKR.  I therefore acknowledge the library Gostalgia, and that I have been given permission to use the picture on the cover of my 2nd Edition of The Ozone Cafe. I am also grateful for the research carried out by actor Felix Willliamson (son of playwright John Williamson) in his search and playing the role of Phil (the Jew) Jeffs in Underbelly Razor - a TV mini series.

Gostalgia: local history from Gosford Library

Phil Jeff's house, with cafe beneath, Ettalong.

The above photograph was taken by Press photographer Sam Hood. It is believed to date from around November 1945, when Phil "the Jew" Jeffs died in St. Vincent's hospital in Sydney. He is buried in the Jewish section of Rookwood Cemetery, under the name "Phillip Davis". The building is of a style known as "P & O" an interwar style that reflected the architecture of a ship's bridge. Unfortunately this building has since been demolished. Aerial photographs from 1957 reveal that Phil Jeff's former house was on the corner of Beach Street and The Esplanade, Ettalong Beach, near Memorial Avenue. The house faced due south, looking straight out to Broken Bay and Lion Island.This was THE prime spot for views in the area, and the site is now the location of Mantra, Ettalong Beach. Nothing remains of Phil Jeffs house in 2011. A brief report of Phil Jeffs death can be read at:nla.gov.au/nla.news-article56436952 Another former Razor war criminal, Kate Leigh, was embroiled in an assault case at Woy Woy in 1931.Read about this case on the Trove newspaper website:trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper

COPYRIGHT MATERIAL (c) 2024

Friday, September 15, 2023

 









BOUNTY is set for release as an ebook & print book around mid-October (after the school holidays) I intend to launch the collection at the Moon Cafe, Perth WA.  However, it may be the end of the year or early 2024. The print book will be available at all good online bookstores. Stay tuned for a SUPER DEAL on Amazon! 

Here's a sample poem.

COPYRIGHT (c) 2023

BOUNTY Synopsis

This collection Bounty is a two decade long exploration of prose poetry. The form has allowed me to explore a multi-layer of styles and preoccupations within the genre. The collection as three separate sections and progressions range from the everyday life of the familiar as in Section 1 – Bounty that explores some common place objects such as rugs, cushions, cups, vases, clothes, cars, churches and houses.  Section 2 – Cultural highlights the experience of travelling utilizing various mechanisms of language. Section 3 – Avant.

is inspired by my university studies of Gertrude Stein especially her subversion of the conventional use of language. While Stein’s unconventional work was ‘language as cubism in a distorted framework’ where the reader makes meaning, my poetry encompasses some experience, meaning or message.

Three poems in the first section Bounty have been inspired by paintings from disabled artists during my participation in the 2009 Creative Connections program.

A small selection of the prose poems has been previously published, work-shopped, reviewed and critiqued in a 2021 Frontier Prose Poetry Project. I received a favourable response from Prose Poetry Editor Jose Hernandez Diaz who ostensibly praised four poems: Bridge, Church, Hotel and Market. He has since provided me with a quote for the book.

The voice lingers playfully in reverie, as many speakers in good prose poems do. There is a lot of experimentation with the force of language and sound. Bravo! - Jose Hernandez Diaz, author of Bad Mexican, Bad American and The Parachutist.

I also wish to pay tribute to ARTerra Portugal and to the administrator, Mickey for a wonderful time at the Lobäo da Beira Residency and our excursions. The front cover is a snapshot of one of the unique streets in the town. I wrote several prose poems about my time in Portugal, with a memorable highlight attending a Fado concert in Coimbra – the University City.

COPYRIGHT MATERIAL (c) 2023



         

 


Tuesday, June 27, 2023

                



I am now in control of publishing future work, ie. poetry, how-to books and novels through an imprint titled Oz.one Publishing. When I completed my Masters in Writing in 2006, technology as far as self-publishing goes was not as far advanced as it is today. We have online publishing companies such as KDP,  Ingram Spark, Draft2Digital, Lulu Publishing, Smashwords, and many more. I have been lucky enough to use Canva Free to publish my covers, (great guys! -thank you) and so an author can have a professional looking book, both as an ebook and paperback.

THE FIVE LIVES OF MS BENNETT

Being connected to a group of US authors on a Facebook Page, several discussions revolved around self-publishing under your own imprint. So after some serious work on my MA Novel The Five Lives of Ms Bennett self-publishing the work on Amazon KDP as a Kindle book, and also as a paperback (Print-on-Demand) has been a breeze and a joy.  Released in February 2023, I'm endeavouring to promote the book on all my social media channels and through online advertising. There is something really magical about being in control of your work this way, and also having your own Imprint. The idea is mainly that not only does your logo look good, but through Ingram Spark you can gain more distribution access to worldwide bookstores, libraries and online sellers.  It’s a kind of – kudos – currently as the stigma of being self-published has been removed and replaced with you being an Indi author.

THE LAST ASBESTOS TOWN

My debut novel, The Last Asbestos Town is now published as a 2nd Edition. There has been a few changes in the text and also I have designed a new cover. I prefer this one to the first. There is something quite satisfying about spending heaps of time: designing a new cover, re-working or improving the text, uploading all the parameters of trim size, margins, table of contents, headers & footers, and when finally your effort goes through and is approved, well, there it is – a new book with a new look that you have designed yourself.

It still begs the question: Will these books sell as self-published and as a 2nd Edition? Of course, there is much more work to be done. I haven’t reinvented the wheel, but I have new products to sell and also obtain as many reviews as possible.

Check out all my books, including poetry on Amazon here

 


Sunday, May 7, 2023

In this modern day, a writer not only writes novels, non-fiction or poetry, but to be relevant, one needs to adverttise and promote the level of the work.  Amongst about three million authors, you cannot just sit back and hope that readers will flock to you. 


If you're an unknown the idea is to step up, think outside the box, try fellowships, residencies, book awards, and online promotion, etc. It requires a constant effort and it takes up an enormous amount of time, puting yourself out there, being prepared for anything, trying anything personally or publically. 


The graphics included in this post are a recent promotion on Amazon, advertising my latest novel, The Five Lives of Ms Bennett. At the moment, they appear on amazon.co.uk [Amazon United Kingdom], under the book listed as a Kindle copy and also as a paperback. This is a free promotion to all authors and it also includes uploading the same graphics to the US, Australian, Canadian & other allowed Amazon sites. It is commonly known as A+ Content. In the past this was only availavle to mainstream publishers, but by the grace of their good nature it is available to Indi authors. Mind you, it's all about sales and the company is making heaps, considering the amountof self-published books. 

According to the experts “images” instead of “text” help readers when it comes to their buying decisions online. Amazon KDP now allows authors to upload advertising content to enhance their book information and to increase sales. You can upload pictures, text and videos into “Modules”.

I have uploaded three modules.  The first is a banner that shows a picture of me as an author together with my author central contact where buyers can read my bio. Three separate pics & a third includes all  my books. All my books are available at Amazon.

Commercial sellers have the option to have the Premium A+ Content, but for authors the idea is to feature more information about your latest book & bio as the “Look Inside” feature no longer exists on the Kindle copy.


Here’s a quote from SellerApp: “The idea behind using enriched multimedia content is to enhance the user experience which drives high conversions and huge traffic to the listings. In short, it is going a step beyond the usual content that sellers usually create, just to ensure that a potential buyer understands the product features more effectively and gets a sophisticated online shopping experience.”

Saturday, April 15, 2023


 

A GRIPPING STORY OF ENDURANCE


This heart-warming and intriguing novel
will have you cheering for Ms Bennett as she navigates away from an unhappy marriage towards a new love!
The Five Lives of Ms Bennett is a historical, coming-of-age, family saga. It’s about the struggle of a young Australian girl, fed up with her hometown life, only to find that the big city doesn’t exactly hold the dreams she wishes for.

Themes

  • Love doesn’t always find a way.
  • Marrying outside of one’s culture elicits problems.
  • Nationality differences exhibit cultural bias and prejudice on both sides.
  • Five Lives: Five Decades

  • Includes early Australian history, references to colonial heritage, Australia in the fifties, sixties and seventies.
  • The domestic roles of women.
  • Post war lifestyle and conditions.
  • Women’s cottage industries.

  • In the extension of Ms Bennett’s contemporary lives there are issues such as family loyalty and trust, the vagaries of money and wealth, family jealousy and fraud, domestic violence, alcoholism, rights to education, equality and freedom for women.

    My novel can be found on Amazon

    Friday, February 17, 2023


    The Five Lives of Ms Bennett is a novel that I wrote for my Masters in Writing, way back in 2006. Under a different title the manuscript has remained as they say "in the bottom drawer". In 2022, I spent time in a Fellowship at the Katharine Susannah Prichard Writers Centre (Greenmount WA) changing all the mixed tenses to all 'present' tense.  I have submitted the novel to various publishers (one rejection received), also applied to a 2023 Westerly Mid-Career Fellowship, sending part of the narrative on the 1st life of Alice Bennett, however I doubt my chances as there are so many better writers out there than me. Anyway, here is an excerpt from the novel & the one I sent to Westerly.

    Grandma’s Chocolate Tin

    Story 1:           Stories from the olden days 

    Gran shuffles the old photos in her chocolate tin. When she draws a cracked photo from underneath the pile, the old woman withdraws into other corridors. Three men in full uniform, double-breasted velvet jackets and high boots, have their heads bowed. Particleboard lies beneath their feet. Steps lead to battered doors; in a side annex, minor scorching. One man is smoking a rollie. The rest look pitiful, shoulders and mouths drooped. Her granddaughter thinks the burnt building resembles the black-stick house near the beach.

    Alice waits for Gran to call her nickname; twirls her three bangles, watching for signs that Gran’s eyelids have lifted. She has come to know this scene, the charcoal in the grate sparking a new flame with just a little prod. She counts her grandmother’s stitches, the number of times the right forefinger loops the wool, clicking her heels and tapping her leather shoes on the concrete path. In this place together, they are apart. Alice bumps her grandmother, making her drop stitches. In the silence, she plucks blades of buffalo grass, crisscrosses them like a paddle-pop raft. An old straw hat balances on the geraniums. She thinks Grandpa might soon jump back into the picture. 

    ‘Is this where you had the pump?’ asks Alice, pointing to the old tank-stand. More clacking, the scrunching sound of wool escaping as Edith unwinds the ball from her knitting bag. ‘I used to play under there, Gran. Look here, Gran.’ Alice taps the tank stand with a long piece of doweling. ‘With matchsticks. I lit one.’

    ‘You didn’t want to start a fire, did you?’ Edith raises her eyes over the rims of her glasses.

    ‘Nah. Not really.’ Alice sprawls close to her grandmother and snips clover with the scissors. ‘Did you ever see a really big fire with Grandpa in that fire engine?’

    ‘No, women weren’t allowed.’

    ‘Oh.’

    ‘It was bad luck in those days.’

    ‘Why?’

    ‘There was always bad luck.’

    ‘I like firing matches. Whoosh!’ she giggles, imitating the strike.

    ‘Don’t you dare, Alice, or I’ll tell your father.’

    Alice twirls her pink hoop until it catches on her cardigan. She leans back on the top step, placing herself inside the plastic toy.

    ‘I made ‘em plenty of cups of tea in my day,’ says Edith, resting her skeins. ‘They was always awake because of me.’

    ‘Was this your house, Gran?’ says Alice, holding the photo.

    ‘Yep. See those roses out the front, every colour of the rainbow. I loved that old house and garden. Trouble was it was too far from the beach.’ Edith wrestles an aching foot and straightens. ‘Fire Station used to be an old barn till they renovated it. Your grandfather spent long hours in there, checking and re-checking the equipment, tuning the pumps and making the truck ready, just in case.  It was one problem after the other.’

    ‘Did he burn his fingers?’

    ‘He got his whiskers singed plenty of times. I remember the big one. It was a miserable job. Half the Spit Junction was burning. Like a wood-yard, your grandfather said, full of timber ready to go.’

    Alice imagines a bush fire like the logs that tumble and fall in the lounge-room grate. She likes the sound of snapping wood that sends sparks up the chimney. She is glad, too, that Gran is still making scones and cups of tea for her, that everything is much the same; except they don’t have a fire engine to climb on, or a garden of roses.

    ‘I don’t know why, but he kept these journals.’ Edith lifts the book from the bottom of the suitcase, dog-eared pages falling from stitches. ‘Here’s a good story,’ she says, balancing the large book across both their knees. ‘It’ll help you understand your grandfather.’

     

    Warringah: Griffin Road, 1934. Minor property damage.

    When we got there the hill along Griffin Road was yellow and smoky. Left Laurie and Bill in charge of the hose checked out the back of the sheds. The fire was already frisky in the button grass. Luckily the lantana and eucalypts further in hadn’t gone up yet. A lad from the factory rolled up with his truck to help the owner remove some crates from a big stores shed. A few fences needed to be soaked. I got the volunteers onto that one. A strong nor-westerly blowing didn’t help things much. The stacked drums, full of petrol, kerosene and turpentine was our biggest worry. We could hear the petrol simmering inside, the drums swelling with the heated pressure. All the boys and I could do was try and keep the drums cool. We were under control as the other men outside and further up in the long grass begun to get onto the fire and we won the fight.

    ‘Oh, goody, they won.’

    ‘Yep. They won that day, but the next week there was all hell to play. The storekeeper, old Snowy, came skidding up on his motorbike in front of the house while I was in the yard. Well, he rang the bell and woke the men. The fire started down at the Surf Club where they kept all the surfboats and boards. There was a fish and chip shop, a tackle shop. The whole lot might have gone up.’

    Alice waits, as Gran wipes the ridges of her eyes. 

    ‘There were people everywhere, sirens wailing, women, old fellas, boys outside the double doors. Of course, they weren’t allowed in. They just ran with the fire truck all the way up Evans Street, dogs yapping at the tyres. I noticed your grandfather was having trouble with his pants and belt, but didn’t take any notice. The men soon found he wasn’t well. He was slumped over his office chair; coat half off, ledger books all over the floor. In the panic of it all, they took him to the doctor’s first. Had to wake him up. Doc kept shaking their hands. The boys said he was pleased it wasn’t his place going up.’

     


     

    Tuesday, January 3, 2023



    One of the things I learnt in 2022 was to upload my 2 poetry collection to KDP. This acronym is called Kindle Direct Publishing. They also have a program where the reader can enjoy up to 2,000 books at any one time (last time I looked) for a minimum fee of $13.99 per month (Australia). If you're a voracious reader and have a kindle or ipad this is an extremely good deal. Most books usually cost between $20 to $25 (AU), so this works out to a fraction of the cost.

    I know that poetry lovers like writing poetry, reading poetry, using poetry at sensitive times like at weddings and funerals, but not many "BUY" poetry. I think they are missing out, as authors have spent a long time studying poetry, gone to great pains to increase their word knowledge and have learnt how to condense languare into minute story parts. They say it's one of the hardest genres to write, and it is time consuming with little reward. One of the reasons why I moved over to writing novels.

    So now any readers out there, if you're engaged in the Kindle Unlimited program, my 2 poetry books are ebooks and are available for $0.00 in the program - for three months commencing on 1/1/2023.

    I would love to see some sales. 70% @ $2.99 equates to approx. $2.10 (AU) in royalties. AND I won't be laughing all the way to the bank. :)

    MY BOOKS ON KINDLE

    Monday, December 19, 2022

    After waiting two years with an interruption due to Covid lockdowns and WA border closures, I spent time as a writer-in-residence at Eramboo Artist Environment in Terrey Hills, Sydney. While I was there I conducted a Poetry Workshop in Ekphrastic Poetry. An ekphrastic poem is a vivid description of a scene or, more commonly, a work of art. Through the imaginative act of narrating and reflecting on the “action” of a painting or sculpture, the poet may amplify and expand its meaning. A notable example is “Ode on a Grecian Urn,” in which the poet John Keats speculates on the identity of the lovers who appear to dance and play music, simultaneously frozen in time and in perpetual motion.

                        I also met other artists in particular Julie Bartholomew, a Ceramic artist and                           educator. We were neighbours on either side of the studios and could talk to one                     another through the partioning.



    My Writing Fellowship at The Katharine Susannah Writers Centre - October 2022 

     

    I feel so lucky and extremely proud to have spent time at the KSP in my October Fellowship. Two weeks went quickly and in that time I completed a re-working of my MA novel (2009) renaming the fictional memoir *The Five Lives of Ms Bennett*. It was a huge effort to change the mixed tenses to all present tense. And although I haven’t changed the story, I feel that it reads better. Also using Text-to-Speech has been a marvellous editing tool. You’d be surprised how many errors and mistakes you can hear. Also during my time in the hills, I shopped in Mundaring, had a coffee at the Lazy Corner Café, shopped at Coles West Swan, walked the West Swan Railway track (5 times) went, oh shame, only two days swimming at the Bilgoman Aquatic Pool (October the weather was also cold).

    I had a great time conducting my *Crime* Workshop – “So Why Not Turn to Crime”. Six participants were all into the crime genre and there was much discussion about dead bodies, murder, Agatha Christie, Hercule Poirot, editing, crime audio books and a great sharing of their writing exercise. I believe the writers went away feeling good about attending. We went over time so that’s a good indication.

    Saturday, September 3, 2022




    READERS!   You can purchase my novel The Ozone Cafe for $0.00 on Kindle Unlimited. This is a program designed to help authors and offers readers a wide selection of ebooks up to 40 to borrow for $14.99. I think it's a good deal as while my book is on offer for free, apparently, I will still get 70% of the Kindle cost $11.53 as royalties.  I have joined for two months, enough time to guage whether the book has generated some interest. I am also amongst about a zillion other books and hundreds about cafes so the odds are against me. I just need one or two readers out there in the WWW (World wide Web) to read and review. I sound like I'm begging don't I?  Not really, I'm just trying all sorts of things to keep the novel relevant. This program is part of my ongoing promotion and if I don't do it, no one else will. 


    Bream Street: circa 1946

     Part 1

    It was perhaps the first time a freezing sensation had overwhelmed him. Age had run into his iron bones and most days he couldn’t get out of bed. Not that anyone would notice, living alone all these years and he’d left retirement too late. It was only the fishing in Satara Bay that had kept him going, his beach cottage central to everything, and his blue-aproned chums. He couldn’t bear that terrible noise again in his head; a bell was ringing pulled by a string. He didn’t want this to happen tonight. Not tonight at the Grand Master’s presentation. How many years had it been?  Seven, he recollected, seven slow years waiting for the position of Vice-Grand Master. All eyes would turn on him. Stan the Man, they jokingly called him. But when it came to his carpentry skills, they almost bowed in adoration.

       He dressed in his Masonic regalia, and opened his case checking the contents. The details were there for the Spring Ball, his launch speech, invitations to dignitaries, parents and members. He patted the envelope before clicking the locks. He would be proud to introduce the debutants.

        It was only 6 o’clock, so he decided to take a leisurely detour to the Esplanade Hotel, have one or two pints for Dutch courage.

       The terrible noise started again, more than one bell. He was still cold. Winter that silent oppressor. He sat in the beer garden looking out to sea. He couldn’t make out the demarcation line of the horizon with a rising mist coming in, the edges of sky and ocean near the Heads melding into one landscape.

       He hummed an old Irish tune. When he finished his second pint he started walking towards the shops, past the Diggers’ hall, the housie-housie shed and finally turned into the front yard of the Masonic Lodge.

       ‘Nice evening, Stan,’ said an old friend, slowly ascending the steps with a wooden cane.

       ‘How’s the back?’ asked Stan.

       ‘Oh, you know,’ he replied, knocking out one of his legs to keep moving, ‘can’t complain.’

       The ceremony began at 8 o’clock with a three-course meal. After two new Apprentices had been initiated into the Kingdom, it was time for the presentation. This time, Stan could hear an orchestra of bells where there was none. He managed to be bold and so stood behind the microphone, a little wobbly at first. It was his duty to swear allegiance to the brotherhood; to wear the colors of Vice-Grand Master with pride.

       A growing tiredness overcame him, and giving his excuses he left the Masonic Hall alone. A thick fog covered the sleeping town, and at almost midnight, intervals of rain began spotting the pavement and the blue of his coat. He hurried home.

       When he arrived on the landing of his front porch, he sensed someone in the shadows. There were no street lights and something stirred behind in the dark. Silhouettes and shapes in the gloomy night, then a heavy army of three men dominated his bent frame. He moved his arms out to stop them, but their wild punches struck. He could not fight them off.  Beyond some distant shore, Stan the Man knew that all the bells had stopped.


    Saturday, August 27, 2022


    My 2 poetry collections are now available on Kindle, Evangelyne & other poems and of Arc & Shadow. [They are even cheaper than a cup of coffee!]
    Poetry is not so popular when it comes to the buying public, however after having bought American/International poetry collections  on Kindle 
    such as Mary Oliver, Li Po, Ted Kooser, Billy Collins, Lorna Crozier, and Sharon Olds, I thought it was about time I would upload my (hard work) also to Kindle I Trends change and kids are always on their ipads. They’re the next generation of readers. Check out my Kindle Author Page, on Amazon where you can buy my 2 collections.

    This has now given me the impetus to publish all my  ”unpublished poetry” – it’s so fun to see your hard work on Kindle. It’s as if the work has been given a second life!  I have a collection of prose poetry titled Bounty and a children’s poetry collection, Miniscule, inspired by the French TV mini-series called Minuscule. I intend to self publish these two collections and possibly have both editions of print and ebook.

    Here is a sample of what's to come - a poem from Miniscule 






     

    Friday, March 11, 2022

    I have recently tried (once again) to create a reasonable book video of “unboxing books”. Not only have I spent a lot of time, and tried to edit out BLACK COCKATOOS (yes, loud rasping from them in a neighbour’s olive tree) in my first attempt, I also discovered that WORDPRESS made it difficult to upload in media, (haha although problem solved). In a recent post I managed to upload my video in the *text section*. Never give up folks!  



    So glad to share this space with you so that you can view my ”Unboxing Books” of the 2nd novel The Ozone Café, that has taken almost "14 YEARS!"

    Also, I do have two other BLOGS and have uploaded same video to https://helenhagemann.wordpress.com and https://helhagemann.blogspot.com/

    So, apart from these frustrating promotional ideas, I am quite excited to receive a number of copies of The Ozone Café and will have a book launch on Saturday 26th March, at the Kingsway Bar & Bistro @ 12.30pm.  Book signing/ $25 cash only. Bar tab. Covid restrictions must be seated & certified. All welcome!

    The novel can be purchased from me, the author on the “Buy Books” wordpress page & also from amazon.com.au  who offer a free postage deal.

    The Ozone Café is about three separate owners and the demise of the cafe through council corruption. Set in a fictional town north of Sydney, the author brings to the novel her memories of growing up in Ettalong Beach NSW and visiting the cafe as a teenager.

    From a review by Richard Regan on Amazon Australia. “At the heart of the novel is the Ozone Café itself, the loving creation of Italian migrant, Vincenzo Polamo, and treasured possession of its subsequent two owners. Their intertwined stories revolve around the café and the three local children whose images are immortalised in its courtyard mural.”

     

    Sunday, January 2, 2022

     
    My new novel is now available in Australia (included free postage for first buyer). Check it out at

    Amazon.com.au

    Also available from publishers Adelaide Books, New York, USA

    The following chapter (in part) is the construction of the cafe. 

                                                                Chapter 12

                                                                        

    After a few days the beery smell of the fermenting orange trees began to disappear. It took several truck loads to cart away the old house, taking with it the shed, the old laundry, bushes and two large palms.

        Vincenzo visited the site every day.  The concrete slab gradually turned into walls, and the walls grew upwards, and steel rods that were stressed into the first floor became the second story, then a third. By degrees, the café spread its tentacles of light and dark. And once where there had been an open blue sky, the space filled with windows and doors, the inside walls becoming a stark, white interior.

       There were days when the generator broke down, the men shouting at one another, joking around while waiting for renewed power. A constant noise fractured the Esplanade with screaming machines dispersing sounds of sawing, drilling, and banging. Added to this, Pomadina barked when a subcontractor’s dog yapped incessantly from the back of a ute.  

       Silence only existed out where the bay glowed, and when the rotating flash from the lighthouse descended on the walls and low rooms, a luminous moonlight painted a backdrop over everything that became solid by grace and spirit, by song and sovereignty. For house and home. For a café where there was none.

       Rennie advised Vincenzo that one wall had to come down. It had something to do with the lay of the land and compaction, but it was better to get it right. His account of the problem did not disturb Vincenzo. He was more than happy to observe the café taking shape, his spiral staircase, the strength of the building in rendered brick, the curved corridors of the upstairs bedrooms taking on an interesting chamber appearance. The structure became his space through the temporal vagaries of winter to spring, from spring to late spring, then early summer. A concert of colors went through his head as he began to design the main eating lounge in the café. Red. Red would be the color of table tops and benches, bringing warmth down into the area from the café’s one and only high ceiling.

       Vincenzo ordered light fittings, counter tops, four-seated cubicles with studded bench seats, a leather lounge suite and wall lamps. His main vice was the purchase of the best cooking equipment he could find in Sydney. He treated himself to Wiltshire knives, two fridges, Condor plates, cups and bowls, stainless steel pots and pans. He ordered a top-class espresso coffee machine made in Italy and purchased a twin oven from a local supplier. Closer to the building’s completion, he chose an off-white paint for the exterior of the building and a cream vanilla for the interior. 


    Saturday, December 25, 2021


     

    The Personal Story behind the Ozone Café

    The old black & white photographs might reveal a little of the setting of my 2nd novel The Ozone Café.  The literary world often states for writers, “write what you know”. I have used my hometown in the setting of the novel, however the names have been changed to protect…yes no novelist wants to be sued or face undue litigation esp. when one writes about a corrupt shire. It was common knowledge in the area, that because the Ozone Café sat on prime property (a stone’s throw from the beach), it attracted the moguls and thus disappeared through dubious means.


    Ettalong was and has always been a small community lifestyle: a population of less than 5,000, an older community with shopfronts like the cake shop, chemist, newsagents, banks and supermarket. It hasn’t changed in 50 years. There’s fishing, prawning, oysters in the myriad of waterways that is known as Broken Bay which sprawls to Gosford and is known as the Brisbane Water District. What has replaced the café is a very large monolith resort-type building that I understand is not liked nor valued by the locals. Well, it’s a holiday venue for the “rich”.


    I went to Ettalong Primary, and then later attended Gosford High School. As a teenager and even younger I frequented the café with girlfriends, esp.one in particular named, Heather. We would have a milkshake, buy lollies, click on the jukebox and if we had any money left we’d slide a twenty shilling piece into one of the pinball machines. Looking back, it was actually a challenge to enter the Ozone café as it was daily occupied by Bodgies and Widgies. They were the rock-n-roll gangs of the sixties, rather harmless, but I guess it was the leather jackets, the chewing gum and sneers that made you feel uncomfortable. Nevertheless, the café was so close to the beach, that after a swim that being hungry we often bought an icy-pole or ice-cream. So, my local teenage haunt was a vivid memory that I would never forget.

    When my younger brother, still living in the area, told me that the Ozone had been pulled down, I wanted to write the story of life inside its walls and its ultimate destruction.

    The Ozone Café, with three separate owners therefore, is the nemesis of my story and its demise through council corruption.

    Saturday, December 11, 2021


    The Ozone Café, a historical novel with three separate owners, is about the café’s demise through council corruption.

    Vincenzo Polamo, a Calabrian, builds the Ozone Café with his builder-brother in 1957 in fictional Satara Bay. He meets three children, Winifred, Casey, and Nicolas, creating a seascape mural on a café wall that includes them. The café changes from Italian to Australian cuisine. However, due to long hours of hard work and Vincenzo’s wife unwilling to migrate to Australia, Vincenzo sells the café.

    Joe Pendlebury suffers setbacks with too few customers, poor health and problems due to a violent storm causing structural damage close to the mural.  In major scenes, Pendlebury goes missing, and Nicolas dies from muscular dystrophy, heightening Winifred’s concerns to keep the mural sacred.

    Con & Dion Lasaridis experience problems with the damage. Unable to convince the Heystbury Shire the café is sound after a rebuild, they lose ownership in a court battle; the Shire evoking a Demolition Order, 1946. The Lasaridis believe this is due to an undercurrent of well-known council corruption; Mayor Tyrone being a principal player in corrupt land and property dealings. Vincenzo (et al) removes the mural reinstating it at his home. The mural becomes a lasting memorial to Nicolas Battersby, as well as the sole surviving piece of The Ozone Café.

    Available soon on Amazon & Adelaide Books, New York

     

     

    Bounty

    Bounty
    Prose Poetry

    The Five Lives of Ms Bennett

    The Five Lives of Ms Bennett
    A Family Saga

    The Ozone Cafe

    The Ozone Cafe
    White Collar Crime

    The Last Asbestos Town

    The Last Asbestos Town
    Available from Amazon

    Evangelyne

    Evangelyne
    Published by Australian Poetry Centre, Melbourne

    of Arc & Shadow

    of Arc & Shadow
    Published by Sunline Press, WA

    Blog Archive

    Powered by Blogger.

    Search This Blog

    Flickr Images

    MBA (Wrtg) ECowan

    My Photo
    Perth, Western Australia, Australia

    Helen Hagemann MBA (Wrtg): ECowan

    Helen Hagemann MBA (Wrtg): ECowan
    Author & Poet

    INSTAGRAM

    Popular Posts