AustLit

'If I were to tell you our story in sign language—the story of my grandparents and me—I’d begin with a single finger touching my chest. My hands would form the signs for ‘grew up’ and then ‘next door’: a flattened palm rising from my torso to eye level; followed by my index finger hooked over my thumb and turned over at the wrist like a key in an ignition. I’d use the signs for ‘my grandparents’: a clenched fist over my heart, and the letter signs ‘G, M, F’ to represent ‘grand-mother-father’. Then, placing two fingers over my right ear, I’d use the sign for ‘deaf’ to refer to them, and to describe myself, I’d use ‘hearing’: a single digit moved from beside the ear to rest below the mouth. I’d stress the closeness of our relationship by interlocking my index fingers in the sign that doubles for ‘link’ or ‘connection’ depending on context. By puffing air from my lips, squinting my eyes slightly, and rocking my looped fingers back and forth, I’d place emphasis on the sign—the duration, direction and intensity of its delivery giving tone and shape to the meaning made.'  (Introduction)

'No rays of light sneaking long fingers across the pale skin of morning. Not at this time. Beyond the window glass the stars shone precision silver, dew casting a silvery skeen across thirsty grass. I’d lie awake in the darkness waiting to hear the cough of the Toyota bring the catch home and him with it. I’d learnt to wait for the fluorescent light to cast diamante warmth through the white double doors windowed by an earlier deco-age of artistic privacy. When opened, conversations drifted like song, bounced by high ceilings and slick laminate floors. But closed, sound muffled and could just be waves brought on the breeze from the beach to the east. Shoulders alert, chin lifted, I’d listen for the soft clang of tin pots and the fwooosh of running water, the throw of the salt, the patient silence of the boil, the frenzied clicking of the first batch thrown to fat bubbles.' (Introduction)

'Arlene followed Steve’s gaze. He couldn’t meet her eyes. He said, ‘First thing Monday,’ then he tightened his grip around the neck of the paper bag, something to eat in his office once the bell rang and all the students and teachers were in their classrooms. ' (Introduction)