“I couldn’t put it down. Loved it. Felt as though I’d ‘lived’ it! Congratulations! I hope it sells and sells.” Tess “He really can write!” Peter Gifford “I happily read All Our Christmases even in the bath and during meals. “It’s quite a page-turner because it’s about interesting, credible characters caught up in a constant developing situation (with some unexpected twists) told in very readable colloquial language.” William Grono “In the midst of detailing some agonising scenes, Jennings is not averse to some laugh-out-loud verbal joking. “This, along with the music the characters play and sing, lightens what could otherwise be too intense. The writing is assured and smooth. And the banter between Laura and Charlie makes All Our Christmases very, very readable.“     Jenny Gifford “I happily read All Our Christmases even in the bath and during meals. “It’s quite a page-turner because it’s about interesting, credible characters caught up in a constant developing situation (with some unexpected twists) told in very readable colloquial language.” William Grono  “Just finished All Our Christmases and thoroughly enjoyed it. It was such a pleasure to read as the voices were real and Australian and human. The narrative was like life — not always clear at the moment, nor obviously direct. This novel will especially resonate with older readers. “And the songs and music — often with comic moments, or encompassing the blues — support an underlying theme of childbirth and children.  “This novel is one bloody fine read; one which, no doubt, I will revisit, given the passage of time.”   David Hults Peter Holland, speaking at the launch of All Our Christmases: “What is revealed here is that Murray has been paying attention—to the world, to people, to feelings, and, of course, to music. Music is the lifeblood of this novel, as much as it’s the lifeblood of its author, and of the novel’s hero, Charles Farquar. Music not only accompanies the action, it is integral to it. But as well as music, there is another universal language spoken here, one that we all respond to. “I think in order to immerse yourself in a novel you have to feel that it’s real, and what Murray has delivered is an authentic expression of the feelings and emotions that honour that reality, that validates these lives, and takes us to their deepest places. Some of it I found quite confronting, and I had to stop and have a rest from it. I felt almost embarrassed to be reading something so private, so intimate, so painful, which reminded me of Eliot’s maxim that “The purpose of literature is to turn blood into ink.” “There were several moments, while I was reading this, that I stopped and went back, thinking ‘Ooh, I like how he did that’ and I must say I experienced a very particular pleasure in finding and acknowledging to myself the sure hand of a skilled writer in a friend’s work. “Of course, I recognised, buried in Chook Farquhar, many of Murray’s own characteristics, his peculiarities and peccadilloes — and he’s got one or two of those — and his experiences, including, presumably, at drive–ins. “The book is written in the first person, but not always spoken by the same person, which means there are several points of view; characters talking — in great detail — about what they are doing, what’s happening to them, and telling us, to an extent, what they are feeling. “But as we enter their lives, there’s an implicit invitation to dive between the lines to find what these people are not telling us, which is how they might be feeling about themselves as they encounter the vicissitudes of their existence, and that becomes a measure of how much their lives have entered our own in the reading. “I find any creative expression astonishing. Over the past few years I’ve been a sort of arms-length witness to the protracted labour of this novel, and I’m in awe of Murray’s strength of purpose. It’s not just the hard slog of the writing itself, which I imagine is difficult enough. “As I read the book I realised there’s also what appears to me to be a potentially unpleasant process involved, requiring exploration and exposure of the self. “I really love the book’s cover image, so evocative of Walley country, Yalgor Katta, (Swamp Hill), the paperbark and peppermint, reedy wetlands of the coastal plain south of Perth, with its wealth of birdlife, fish and frogs, its ti-tree, banksia and noble tuarts (what’s left of them). “Finally, I reckon a playlist should be made available to accompany any future print-run of ‘All Our Christmases’; a compendium of the musical language that enriches the stories of Laura and Charles.”

Murray’s approach to writing ‘I’ve been asked where I get my ideas from. Well, partly from having a good ear for voices. I have little trouble writing dialogue. And of course, from reading other writers. Loads of books, from early childhood.’ Do I ever experience ‘writer’s block’? ‘Writing poetry, yes. With fiction, very rarely. But I have an excellent way of dealing with it, by listening to the piano. ‘I listen to either Glenn Gould playing Bach’s Two and Three-Part Inventions, or Thelonious Monk’s solo performances of his own works, such as Mysterioso, or Well, You Needn’t…they’re so angular! Mathematical. They run around in my synapses and create wonderful havoc.’ Which writers have influenced me? ‘Probably hundreds. But consciously? Don’t laugh, but first to mind are Spike Milligan and Roger McGough. ‘On the serious side, Henry Lawson and Banjo Paterson, Steinbeck, Updike, E.L. Doctorow, Kerouac, Dylan Thomas, John Osborne, Kingsley Amis, some of the British so-called kitchen sink mob, then more recently, Graham Swift and Michael Ondaatje. ‘However, I also owe a lot to women writers who helped me personally. ‘The first was Lyndall Hadow, a short fiction author and copywriter with whom I worked in a commercial radio station when I was just starting out, and who would critique my early short stories. She also encouraged me to join the Fellowship of Australian Writers, which I did. After she died, they named a short fiction award after her and I was chuffed to win it in 1978. Two people who helped me in a truly ‘hands on’ way were Patricia Wrightson, Editor of the NSW Education Department School Magazine and Lilith Norman, her Assistant Editor. ‘For two years, I was Assistant to the Editor, learning from the ground up, how to write for children. Patricia and Lilith had won umpteen book awards between them and their most useful advice was summed up thus: Don’t write down to children and never use a multi-syllabic word if there’s an appropriate single-syllabic one available. ‘I try to stick to that rule when writing for any age group.” ‘Finally, there’s Carmen Bird, a prolific Australian writer of fiction and non-fiction, whose book of advice for budding authors, Not Now Jack, I’m Writing a Novel, which I found immensely useful when I was trimming 200 pages from the 500-page initial manuscript of All Our Christmases.  That was the toughest writing and editing job I’d ever had. ‘I would recommend Carmel’s book to anyone writing fiction.’