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jrmarr's review against another edition
4.0
An engrossing insight into grief and depression, and the effect it can have on relationships. While it occasionally felt a little repetitive, it is a very minor quibble and there was a lot I could relate to in this. I loved the Melbourne setting too.
adamreadsgood's review against another edition
emotional
funny
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
faye_v's review against another edition
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
katdid's review
5.0
Dammit. Another bad reading choice when it comes to doing uni work! I almost didn’t read this because I had it pegged as young adult fiction, and me and young adult fiction are somewhat estranged these days. But I loved it! I found Audrey a fairly sympathetic character even though she probably could come across as cold (“contained”), and we had somewhat similar backgrounds. The abuse she suffered was worse, but on the flip side of that her family also shared happy times, and her parents did seem to love each other. Horribly though I think that could create a lot of cognitive dissonance for a kid, in trying to reconcile their failings as human beings and parents with the kind gestures they meted out. (“They weren’t bad people”, I think Audrey says at one point in defence of them.) Audrey still tries to be a dutiful daughter to her remaining parent even though her mother never protected her from her father, and I think this was explored really well.
At one point I realised that Our Magic Hour reminded me of [b:Monkey Grip|634141|Monkey Grip|Helen Garner|https://d2arxad8u2l0g7.cloudfront.net/books/1331360614s/634141.jpg|620433], because of the characters and their easy interwoven rapport, but also because of the Melbourne setting and they way the two interacted. This made me think of something that was really on my mind a couple of years ago, which is that Sydney is never depicted as a character in novels in the way New York or London or even Melbourne is; it feels like there’s a whole volume of work where Melbourne is central to the narrative, and when Sydney is the setting for a novel then it may as well be set anywhere; you never get the same sense of place when it’s Sydney being written about. Why is that? Or am I just reading the wrong books? (I’m wondering if that’s the problem, because in Fiona Wright’s essay collection [b:Small Acts of Disappearance, Essays on Hunger|26156389|Small Acts of Disappearance, Essays on Hunger|Fiona Wright|https://d2arxad8u2l0g7.cloudfront.net/books/1440413252s/26156389.jpg|46113805] she examines Christina Stead’s [b:For Love Alone|1437766|For Love Alone|Christina Stead|https://d2arxad8u2l0g7.cloudfront.net/books/1334564451s/1437766.jpg|923093], which sounds very Sydney-specific; for reference I found an online version of the essay here but I’m not sure it’s the same as the one which appears in the collection.) And when the narrative in Our Magic Hour moved to Sydney it didn’t seem to have the same sense of inclusion, of fondness, as that for Melbourne. Maybe this was a device, to further suggest Audrey’s isolation, but even the fun stuff – like riding bikes into Randwick, and swimming at the ocean baths – I kind of didn’t buy into. There never seems to be anything casual about riding bikes in Sydney (I say this as a commuting cyclist); every trip is white-knuckle, and the hills – oh, the hills. But maybe I’m doing it wrong; I’ll accept that. And the baths – I feel like the Sydney cliché is the beaches (Bondi, Manly, the rest), and if you’re here on a two year visa say then you probably do want to live in close proximity to the coast; this is why Bondi is full of backpackers. But my experience of Sydney is the grime and grit of the Inner West. I’m speaking comparatively; it’s no Tenderloin. But the beaches are a forty minute bus ride away and constitute another country. At one point Audrey and Julian drive up to the Central Coast to pick up a motorbike, to a place called Budgewoi. It’s this tiny little nothing of a place, on a river close by a lake and right near the sea. This really tickled me, because my parents live a couple of suburbs away and when people ask me what’s in the vicinity I can name a half-dozen towns all along the train line and relatively major, all of which they’ll never have heard of, but everyone – seriously, everyone – has a grandma with a holiday house at Budgewoi, or some dodgy uncle who goes fishing there, or something. So of course Audrey and Nick went to Budgewoi to pick up a motorbike! Of course they did.
The other thing is that the ending kind of scared me, even though it was quite hopeful, because I can’t stand the thought of Audrey and Nick destroying each other again. And it seemed kind of a shame that Audrey went through all that (Sydney, and the rest) only to come full circle again, more or less. I mean, I understand that experiences like that highlight what’s important. But I also subscribe to the idea that the past should stay the past, and if things fell apart to begin with (talking here about Nick) they likely will again. But then I’m a glass-is-half-empty kind of person.
Spoiler
Decamping to Sydney seemed like a kind of bonkers move even though the logic behind it is understandable: escape, and reinvention maybe. But in doing so Audrey leaves behind her valuable support network and falls into what Adam calls “risk-taking behaviour”. Even her relationship with Julian seems like it’s about debasement; letting yourself get torn down so you can be remade as something else. Audrey tries to explain this to Nick at the end but he doesn’t get it; that made me wonder if it’s a gender thing, because I totally got it.At one point I realised that Our Magic Hour reminded me of [b:Monkey Grip|634141|Monkey Grip|Helen Garner|https://d2arxad8u2l0g7.cloudfront.net/books/1331360614s/634141.jpg|620433], because of the characters and their easy interwoven rapport, but also because of the Melbourne setting and they way the two interacted. This made me think of something that was really on my mind a couple of years ago, which is that Sydney is never depicted as a character in novels in the way New York or London or even Melbourne is; it feels like there’s a whole volume of work where Melbourne is central to the narrative, and when Sydney is the setting for a novel then it may as well be set anywhere; you never get the same sense of place when it’s Sydney being written about. Why is that? Or am I just reading the wrong books? (I’m wondering if that’s the problem, because in Fiona Wright’s essay collection [b:Small Acts of Disappearance, Essays on Hunger|26156389|Small Acts of Disappearance, Essays on Hunger|Fiona Wright|https://d2arxad8u2l0g7.cloudfront.net/books/1440413252s/26156389.jpg|46113805] she examines Christina Stead’s [b:For Love Alone|1437766|For Love Alone|Christina Stead|https://d2arxad8u2l0g7.cloudfront.net/books/1334564451s/1437766.jpg|923093], which sounds very Sydney-specific; for reference I found an online version of the essay here but I’m not sure it’s the same as the one which appears in the collection.) And when the narrative in Our Magic Hour moved to Sydney it didn’t seem to have the same sense of inclusion, of fondness, as that for Melbourne. Maybe this was a device, to further suggest Audrey’s isolation, but even the fun stuff – like riding bikes into Randwick, and swimming at the ocean baths – I kind of didn’t buy into. There never seems to be anything casual about riding bikes in Sydney (I say this as a commuting cyclist); every trip is white-knuckle, and the hills – oh, the hills. But maybe I’m doing it wrong; I’ll accept that. And the baths – I feel like the Sydney cliché is the beaches (Bondi, Manly, the rest), and if you’re here on a two year visa say then you probably do want to live in close proximity to the coast; this is why Bondi is full of backpackers. But my experience of Sydney is the grime and grit of the Inner West. I’m speaking comparatively; it’s no Tenderloin. But the beaches are a forty minute bus ride away and constitute another country. At one point Audrey and Julian drive up to the Central Coast to pick up a motorbike, to a place called Budgewoi. It’s this tiny little nothing of a place, on a river close by a lake and right near the sea. This really tickled me, because my parents live a couple of suburbs away and when people ask me what’s in the vicinity I can name a half-dozen towns all along the train line and relatively major, all of which they’ll never have heard of, but everyone – seriously, everyone – has a grandma with a holiday house at Budgewoi, or some dodgy uncle who goes fishing there, or something. So of course Audrey and Nick went to Budgewoi to pick up a motorbike! Of course they did.
The other thing is that the ending kind of scared me, even though it was quite hopeful, because I can’t stand the thought of Audrey and Nick destroying each other again. And it seemed kind of a shame that Audrey went through all that (Sydney, and the rest) only to come full circle again, more or less. I mean, I understand that experiences like that highlight what’s important. But I also subscribe to the idea that the past should stay the past, and if things fell apart to begin with (talking here about Nick) they likely will again. But then I’m a glass-is-half-empty kind of person.
piperscarlett's review against another edition
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.75
textpublishing's review against another edition
5.0
Debut novels like this don’t come along that often. Our Magic Hour has been described as:
‘A vivid portrait of our city and its inhabitants.’
Weekly Review
‘Striking, breathlessly written…An eloquent debut.’
WA Today
‘Intimate, raw and occasionally heartbreaking.’
Readings
‘Easily one of the best Australian debuts I’ve read in a long time.’
Lip Mag
‘A gritty, evocative story…Unconventional and intimate.’
Canberra Weekly
‘Surprising and captivating.’
Farrago
‘Down’s prose is sharp and intimate, the characters flawed and achingly familiar. For a book about mourning, it’s not overly sentimental or indulgent. Instead, the characters’ grief is ugly and bewildering. Our Magic Hour is a compelling, authentic portrayal of loss, dislocation and the unsteadiness of young adult life.’
Good Reading
What an incredible wrap for a young, debut novelist.
For more on Jennifer Down read an interview on the Text blog:
www.textpublishing.com.au/blog/jennifer-down-on-our-magic-hour
‘A vivid portrait of our city and its inhabitants.’
Weekly Review
‘Striking, breathlessly written…An eloquent debut.’
WA Today
‘Intimate, raw and occasionally heartbreaking.’
Readings
‘Easily one of the best Australian debuts I’ve read in a long time.’
Lip Mag
‘A gritty, evocative story…Unconventional and intimate.’
Canberra Weekly
‘Surprising and captivating.’
Farrago
‘Down’s prose is sharp and intimate, the characters flawed and achingly familiar. For a book about mourning, it’s not overly sentimental or indulgent. Instead, the characters’ grief is ugly and bewildering. Our Magic Hour is a compelling, authentic portrayal of loss, dislocation and the unsteadiness of young adult life.’
Good Reading
What an incredible wrap for a young, debut novelist.
For more on Jennifer Down read an interview on the Text blog:
www.textpublishing.com.au/blog/jennifer-down-on-our-magic-hour
michhellongrace's review against another edition
emotional
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0