Toucan can do lots of things!
Toucan bangs a frying pan!
Can YOU do what Toucan can?
Welcome to Aussie Reviews, the Australian review site.
Since 2001 we have been reviewing the best of Australian books of all genres. Now we have a fresh new look, making it easier to browse and read the reviews you have come to love. You can see the latest reviews below, or browse the reviews by category.
Enjoy – and come back often, as we are constantly adding new reviews.
‘Where the heck are we?’ Frankie’s voice was muffled by the walls of earth on either side of them.
‘Flanders,’ answered Private Nash, the young soldier trudging along the narrow communication trench in front of Frankie, as the Australian troops moved in single fileup to the front line in darkness.
‘I know we’re in Flanders! Where in Flanders?’
‘Yeah, but where near Messines?’
‘How should I know? Do I look like an officer or something? Only officers know where they are in this war. Anyway, what’s it matter, Pickles?’
Frankie shrugged. ‘I was just curious, that’s all. I’d like to know where I’m about to die.’
Cool can mean a lot of things.
Amazing, wicked, awesome, epic, radical, insane, ridiculously good and, of course – cold!
Jim Belicious was someone who lived on the not-so-cool side of cool, if you know what I mean. It wasn’t that Jim didn’t have cool T-shirts. And sneakers. And a semi-cool haircut. But being cool did not come naturally to him.
Today, Jim was about to meet someone who was naturally cool …
What a year! Don Bradman scored 334 runs in the Third Test against England, the half-arches of the Sydney Harbour Bridge finally met in the middle, Pharlap won the Melbourne Cup, and Harry and I went into the egg business together. Harry’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember. We catch the train every Friday after school to Uncle George’s chook farm to pick up two boxes of eggs – that’s twenty dozen or 240 eggs. We get them at cost price for a shilling a dozen and sell them for two shillings. Not bad for a couple of Glebe boys on the wrong side of thirteen. There are no overheads – even the train fare’s free. We’re not breaking the law because there’s never anyone to collect our tickets at Rooty Hill station.
Head Hog, by Sally Murphy and Ben Wood. Available from Koala Books
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