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Nonfiction Yves Rees Nonfiction Yves Rees

Blokes throwing bouquets – by Yves Rees

From at least the 1890s until the 1980s, from Perth to Launceston, Noosa to the Adelaide Hills, Melbourne to Rockhampton, respectable men and women decided to swap clothes and get pretend-hitched. Although sometimes staged as a private party, the mock wedding was typically a public event, a participatory mass ritual that often doubled as a community fundraiser.

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Nonfiction Caroline Lenette Nonfiction Caroline Lenette

On track – by Caroline Lenette

Figuring out the horses’ personalities is fun. I get along with some of them from day dot – I even have a couple of favourites. The gentle ones rest their muzzles on my shoulder while I clean their stalls, requesting a tickle. Ebony likes to grab my jacket zipper with her teeth and pull it up and down until I cackle.

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Nonfiction Lana Guineay Nonfiction Lana Guineay

Terminal length – by Lana Guineay

The oldest known sentence written in the earliest alphabet is a hair spell. A Bronze Age ivory comb was unearthed in 2017 in Lachish, a Canaanite city of the second millennium BCE (roughly 1700–1500 BCE). The inscription reads: ‘May this tusk root out the lice of the hair and the beard’.

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Nonfiction Cherry Zheng Nonfiction Cherry Zheng

Fucking with Chineseness – by Cherry Zheng

WINNER OF THE 2024 ISLAND NONFICTION PRIZE

Growing up, my Mandarin was strained through a provincial Cantonese accent and cobbled together by English grammar patterns. It was not enough to understand Chinese song lyrics or the quickfire colloquialisms of international students. It was never enough to win an argument against my parents. That’s why I majored in Chinese at university. I was surprised to find it was a popular language. I couldn’t fathom why the non-Chinese were there.

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Nonfiction Ruby Perryman Nonfiction Ruby Perryman

Where dead animals go - by Ruby Perryman

When Audrey was 13, her hamster died. She had quite a few hamsters, but Oatmeal was her favourite. Remembering her grandma’s duckling, she called some local museums to ask about taxidermy, but they paid her no mind. So, Audrey made Oatmeal into a shoddy wet specimen.

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Nonfiction Bridget Webster Nonfiction Bridget Webster

To let my outline thin – by Bridget Webster

It was my first writing residency.  A lot of interesting things happened. I felt the range of my emotions widen – the grief and terror deeper than I let myself feel in the city before scrambling for distraction, the bliss and contentment more whole and suffusing.

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Nonfiction Rachel Leary Nonfiction Rachel Leary

Savings - by Rachel Leary

I watch her and I want to tell her she’s the most beautiful woman in the world. I’ve felt this way about her for a long time. It’s not desire. I don’t know if this is normal, but some humans elicit this in me: I find them so damn beautiful I don’t know what to do with myself.

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Nonfiction Ramak Bamzar Nonfiction Ramak Bamzar

Between snow and slogans - by Ramak Bamzar

The Iran–Iraq War had just ended and everywhere the walls were covered with murals of martyrs and blood: Khomeini with a raised hand pointing to a bright point in the sky; a woman holding a blood-soaked martyr in her arms and crying; red tulips sprouting here and there from stains of blood on the ground.

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Nonfiction Rosalee Kiely Nonfiction Rosalee Kiely

Habitat – by Rosalee Kiely

I sit and watch the goings on at the kitchen bench. A person cuts bread for a sandwich and leaves the crumbs of wheat on the wooden board, leaves a cut orange. One day later, give or take, the orange is desiccated.

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Nonfiction Toby Fitch Nonfiction Toby Fitch

Cute poem – by Toby Fitch

I know something that I wouldn’t mind seeing extinct, I told Evie and Tilda, who were cuddling up to me in bed, Pusheens! – those blimpy, expensive soft toy cats plonked haughtily in toy shops (basically high-end retail therapy for children)…

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