Linda Ruth Brooks

A hot westerly wind rushed through Dry Gully, swirling through the trees, shaking branches and rattling leaves. Things began to blow in on the wind. Lots and lots of things. Blue tried to catch one of the things, but the wind was too fast. Leaves, twigs and dust twisted and spiralled on the wind, stinging their eyes. The animals became afraid. Kyle ran to top of his tree. Tyson stood still and stared. Wesley looked glum. Emily quickly rolled into a ball. Fleur and Serena huddled together, shivering. Freya's frill flew up. Above the noise of the roaring wind, a whoosh was heard, not like the wail of the wind, something else, something large. It was Hawk. He stepped along a branch overhanging the billabong. 'Where are your parents? We need to sound an alarm.''Alarm Alarm ' shrieked Katie. 'Oh no 'Tick grey dust whirled in, making them cough and splutter.'The clouds have fallen The clouds have fallen ' Kyle Koala yelled.

Katie Kookaburra was bored. Kyle Koala nibbled on a sweet red-tipped leaf while Callan Chameleon played with a soft, white feather.'G'day. Wassup' Blue Roo bounced up.'Nothing.' Kate sighed. Blue groaned. ''Hate doing nothing. Wanna go the Red Quandong''Sure.' Katie flew down from the branch and sat next to Blue.'Righto, Blue jumped and tripped over Tyson Turtle. Along the way a new plan was made. Later on, there'd be an argument over whose idea it was...but they decided to go to the blue quandong tree instead--in the Dark Forest. Things got a bit complicated on the return journey. Katie was sure they took the left fork in the track but Blue Roo said that was rubbish. The argument got louder as clouds crept across the sky, dulling the little light that shone through the trees. Then they heard a thunderous noise...

Where's your mother? Not well today. Said carefully and neutrally, as if pretending things were normal would make them so. Transform life into a manageable thing. As if ten year olds everywhere were the ladies of the house, the caretakers of the family. I see. Mrs Blakehurst, their babysitter from up the road was on the stoop. She had brought the youngest two. Kate knew it was important to use her grown up voice, through a narrow slit in the door. Thank you, Mrs Blakehurst. Here is your pay. Father didn't change the rhythm, so that helped make it normal. Though deep inside a much younger Kate screamed that it was not. But Emily, Daniel and Sara's voices were louder. Some inner sense stopped Kate from calling them 'the children' as was her mother's custom. She was even particular that she called them in order of their age, oldest to youngest, as if by this precision she could push back the chaos that hovered like a patient bird of prey. Brooks explores the internal dilemma of a child compelled to become parent to a mentally unstable mother, as well as the guardian of her three younger siblings. With fearless candour, Linda peels back the layers of a child with adult responsibilities. What becomes of Kate when the years fall by and she reaches adulthood? Can the child within be denied voice?

Near a sandy rock lay a tired Tasmanian devil. He'd had his fill of cool water from the billabong. He tried to keep one eye open, but soon slipped into restless sleep, snuffling and snorting.'Wassup' said a voice. 'You sure twitch in your sleep.' A young kangaroo was peering down at the young devil. 'You 'right, mate? I'm Blue.'The Tasmanian Devil adjusted sleepy eyes to focus on the joey. 'You don't look blue to me, ' he said.'It's an Australian thing. All red animals are called Blue. Guess you wouldn't know that if you're a tourist. What's your name? I'm Blue Roo.''I'm Australian too I'm a Tasmanian Devil.'Blue laughed so hard he had to hold his ribs. 'That's a horror of a name And you thought me being called Blue was weird. That takes the biscuit.''I wouldn't mind a biscuit.' The stranger's stomach rumbled.

It's 1916 and nine year old Henrietta Eloise Parsons is sick of war. They said it was The Great War, The War to End All Wars, as if it was an event like the Olympic Games, with parades, medals and ribbons. As far as she is concerned, it's a crummy war. It's just like a schoolyard brawl where all the boys join in, with torn shirts, bloody noses and filthy uniforms from rolling in the dirt, then, when they're lined up in the principal's office none of them can remember why they were fighting or what stupid thing started the whole mess. On the other side of the world German Zeppelins are reigning terror on London streets at night. One of Henrietta's English cousins has been killed fleeing to an air raid shelter. Her parents have decided that Henrietta will leave Sydney and spend the duration of The Great War up in the country with her grandparents. It's bad enough to be an only child named after a paternal great-grandfather, Henry Parsons, a circumstance that draws humiliation and teasing at school, but to be sent to the country with her mother's maid, Daisy is enough to push Henrietta to the end of her notoriously puny patience. Her father, a senior editor at the Sunday Herald is hardly ever seen without a newspaper in front of his frowning face, and Mother has suddenly taken an interest in activities she haughtily refers to as The War Effort. As far as Henrietta can see, this involves a lot of high teas, committees about cake and how to motivate housewives to knit socks for soldiers and make care packages for the troops. But go she must. To a small country town where nothing is as she expected.

Living with someone on the autism spectrum is like watching a child trying to play hopscotch when they can't see the squares, and everyone else can. This new compilation of I'm not broken, I'm just different & Wings to fly takes us to the heart of living with a child with on the autism spectrum. This latest edition of the book has also been published as Don't read this book by my mother - she's crazy. However, for early fans of Brooks' books on Asperger's it will be welcome news to find both books available in the one volume in the previous familiar style and title. Brooks chronicles her life with her son from his birth, covering the early years, and the teen years through to adulthood--ending with his fearless flight into manhood. The last section, focuses on the struggles faced by adults on the spectrum and their families in an informative, scientific approach. In an unflinching account Brooks poignantly captures the struggle of living with a child who appears to see the world through broken glass. A roller coaster ride from the bizarre to the obscene, encompassing the poetic and the hilarious, heartache and joy. The narrative embraces the muddled stumbling between two worlds--worlds that seem so desperately different at first glance. About a boy obsessed with the unfathomable and a mother obsessed with understanding him. This book is a celebration. I am very pleased to be involved with Linda's book. I think we both have a very important message and I certainly endorse Linda's positive approach. I know it will change the lives of many families. Professor Tony Attwood As a counsellor I have discovered a number of special pearls, a couple of which are found in Linda and Bronson's journey. This is a timely book with a special message. I believe Linda and I met for a purpose. I feel this book is her gift to other parents. Dr Steele Fitchett This is a long awaited book. Linda and Bronson have a great relationship; it's entertaining to watch them bounce off each other. I once remarked to Linda, describing her parenthood--'You enjoy him and that is one of the finest assets of a mother that you offer, regardless of how he reacts.' Dr Jay .

The hospital looked like a monument to a bygone era. Northside Private nestled in bushland in a quiet outer suburb of the city. Built early in the 20th Century it resembled the gracious stately homes of the Deep South in America. An essence of charm permeated the three-storey building, from the corridors to the vast verandas that faced north. White veiled sisters sailed serenely, heels clicking efficiently on the highly polished oak floors. The large windows captured the sun's warm rays. Summer was retreating in a triumphant blaze. Too tired for restlessness, the only movement among us in the West-facing classroom of the Nurse Education building was the occasional desultory glance at the clock on the wall. It was a plain, no-nonsense clock, suitable for classrooms of bored students; and on that day it was an extremely slow clock. Brooks is at her finest in this cunning collection of short stories. Her trademark wit and sharp observation is crafted with depth and compassion, as she once again explores the gamut of human experience with fearless clarity and buoyant optimism. Linda gives us an intimate view into a nursing career, with both fiction and non fiction. It is a world of compassion, patience and intuitive regard for others, but encapsulates the humanity of this challenging and often underrated role in the community.

'Every third Wednesday we meet. Every third Wednesday we attempt to hone our craft. Stretching beyond rhyme, metre and description to tanka, cento, haiku, and abecedarium while we sip frothy cappuccinos, or perhaps indulge in cake, we go on a journey. When the blending of our words seems like rubbish, we laugh. When they fall flat, we groan and move on. Every now and then, someone will read a poem and we all sit still, poised in silent surrender to the soaring of our spirits and we are grateful for the places that poetry takes us.'Most pleasing of all is the profusion of poetic styles and forms... Running through all this are familiar and consistent themes: the power of the wry observation, condensed into verse, to remind us of life's absurdities ... the inescapable nature of loss ... and landscapes transformed by poetic eyes ... Read these poems and enjoy the verbal worlds created for you by these five poets. David Musgrave, Poet, writer, lecturer, publisher.'...the individual poems give] a feeling of wholeness and a sense of egalitarian endeavour.' Mark Liston--Newcastle Cafe Poet 2012/13

It's 1916 and nine year old Henrietta Eloise Parsons is sick of war. They said it was The Great War, The War to End All Wars, as if it was an event like the Olympic Games, with parades, medals and ribbons. As far as she is concerned, it's a crummy war. It's just like a schoolyard brawl where all the boys join in, with torn shirts, bloody noses and filthy uniforms from rolling in the dirt, then, when they're lined up in the principal's office none of them can remember why they were fighting or what stupid thing started the whole mess. On the other side of the world German Zeppelins are reigning terror on London streets at night. One of Henrietta's English cousins has been killed fleeing to an air raid shelter. Her parents have decided that Henrietta will leave Sydney and spend the duration of The Great War up in the country with her grandparents. It's bad enough to be an only child named after a paternal great-grandfather, Henry Parsons, a circumstance that draws humiliation and teasing at school, but to be sent to the country with her mother's maid, the flighty Daisy is enough to push Henrietta to the end of her notoriously puny patience. Her father, a senior editor at the Sunday Herald is hardly ever seen without a newspaper in front of his frowning face, and Mother has suddenly taken an interest in activities she haughtily refers to as The War Effort. As far as Henrietta can see, this involves a lot of high teas, committees about cake and how to motivate housewives to knit socks for soldiers and make care packages for the troops. But go she must. To a small country town where nothing is as she expected.

Emma wondered how to pray when you were very small and didn't have a grownup giving you words. She knew eyes did a lot of talking. In the mornings when Mum said, here's your lunch, her eyes said hurry up Emma wondered if God's eyes said things. Would you answer me if I talked to you, God? She stared really hard at the dark sky. That's when she saw the stars move. Are you there, God? A star fell out of the sky right then. It came all the way down to earth. So you are there. And just like that she knew talking to God was what praying was all about.

Dusty Bunny has a very important task. He is going to do his very best. His friends will help. His father has fallen down and 'broken his head'. Dusty isn't sure what that means, but Father does look quite odd. Father Bunny needs Dusty to take over his job. The good news is that he only works one day a year. The bad news is... Father is the Easter Bunny.

Seven year old Beth Renshaw has waited three long years for her father to come home from the Second World War. Three year old twins, Susie and Sarah only know their father from a photo on the mantelpiece. It's December 1945 and the war is over, but there is still chaos in Europe. Many families don't know if their loved ones survived. the small family hasn't heard from Corporal Peter Renshaw for many long months. The steam train comes to her small village twice a day bringing soldiers back to loved ones and Beth, her mother and the twins have met many trains, hoping it would be the one to bring him home. The night of Christmas Eve is dark and cold. Snow has fallen and a blizzard has set in, whistling and wailing through the trees.

Fraser is a shy frog. He has just moved with his mum and dad to a new pond. Meeting new frogs make him nervous. When he's nervous he hiccups. When he hiccups all sorts of things happen. How will he make new friends?

I am Madame Iris BigglesworthI'm a Very Important CatIn the kingdom where I liveThere's no dispute about thatA book poem about a superior cat with elegant airs and two fine servants, Kyle and Jemina. She has many adventures including a green space creature that arrives in the dark night.

Bella was very confused. It was nearly Christmas Day and there were no presents under the tree in their house. Both her parents had been acting a little odd. No matter how hard she tried, Bella couldn't find any sign of Christmas coming to her house this year. Her friends were all very excited about what they were going to get, but no-one was talking about it at her place. She tried very hard to be good, knowing how important it was when staying on Santa's list of 'nice' children. But still the space under the Christmas tree was bare. Had Christmas been cancelled at her house? Or worse still, had someone stolen Christmas?

Izzy has just turned five years old. It will soon be time to start school. She had a really wonderful birthday party with her friends. Now, Mum and Dad have brought home a baby brother. Izzy likes her new brother, but she is bored playing on her own. She decides to take her cat, Pudding, for a walk in the new pram, but she has forgotten the rule about being safe. When she gets lost in the city streets, it is Pudding who helps her find her way home. Mum and Dad are really worried. Izzy is very tired. It has been quite an adventure for a little girl.