Ani Lachlan is a happily married woman in her thirties, with a young daughter, living in the coastal Australian village of Thirroul. It's far from the Australian plains where she grew up, but it's beautiful, and she and her railwayman husband Mac are happy there, in the years following World War II.

And then Mac is killed in a railway accident.

We get Ani and Mac's story in flashbacks, which frankly are sometimes a bit disjointed, though well-done in themselves. We also get the story of Ani moving forward after Mac's death, as a single mother, and as a woman adjusting to being a widow, working for the first time since her marriage, and getting to know the village she's living in in a new and different way.

She's also getting to know Roy McKinnon, a former teacher, a poet, and a war veteran returned from the war. Another newly returned veteran is Dr. Frank Draper. He grew up in Thirroul, and is back from the war apparently even more traumatized by what he experienced than McKinnon. They're all trying to find their way through a world that's changed unrecognizably from what they had planned and prepared for.

It's a flawed but compelling look at the painful recovery from the Second World War, for the soldiers, the doctors who among other things walked into the death camps and treated the survivors. And being set in Australia, it's a different look than Americans normally get from our own fiction about the era.

Not perfect, but well worth a read. Recommended.

I received a free electronic galley of this book from the publisher via NetGalley ( )

I was pretty disappointed in this book. ( )

This is a reflective, melancholic story of a young mother who is suddenly widowed. The story looks at the inexorable way that life continues. She becomes more capable and independent, creating new friends and becomes increasingly aware that if her husband hadn't died she would never have grown in this way. The setting provides a backdrop to some lovely poetic writing. ( )

The Railwayman's Wife is a languorous novel not of action but of words. A slow burner propelled by emotion, grief, and tragedy. In post-WWII Australia, Ani Lachlan is content in her life as a mother and railwayman's wife. However, the unexpected death of her husband in an accident on the rails forces Ani to face life as a single mother and widow. Accepting a position as the librarian in her small seaside town, Ani begins to navigate her life's new trajectory as she learns to cope and develops a complex friendship with a returned soldier struggling to overcome his own griefs. A languid, lyrical treat exploring the romance of a lost love and the chance at finding it again. ( )

Thanks to our new ‘An Audience With’ program, Wollongong City Libraries book clubs are becoming very experienced in conversing with authors. Couple that with a friendly, open and chatty guest in the form of Ashley Hay, what you have is a wonderfully informative and extremely enjoyable evening!

Most of our clubs have either read or are reading Ashley’s The Railwayman’s Wife, which incidentally is getting the thumbs up all around, so last Tuesday was a great opportunity to learn more about the novel from its creator.

Our questions spanned everything from Hay’s choice of setting (Thirroul, where she grew up), the origins of her characters, and the process of researching a post-war novel to writing poetry and discovering an author’s voice.

Sharing many personal antidotes and imparting what the novel means to her, definitely worked magic on our audience and we all felt just that little bit closer to Anikka, Mac, Frank and Roy. With gentle coaxing Ashley read aloud Roy’s poem and explained the story behind its writing by poet Stephen Edgar. This was such a special treat … Edgar’s poem, which he wrote especially for this novel, came alive under her gentle, quiet voice. The same voice that resounds so clearly in The Railwayman’s Wife.

We look forward to Ashley’s next novel and highly recommend her work and attending any of her talks and presentations. In connecting with her ‘audience’ we give 10 stars! ( )