Are You Leading Your Readers Well?

One of the areas of specialization I work in is Leadership, in particular the fundamental skills one must have in order to interact effectively with their employees. This too is relevant as an author to the reader. Now don't get me wrong - I'm not saying an author IS a formal leader in the corporate sense - I am referring to the notion that we are leading our readers on a journey! So as a writer I struggle with the constant idea that someone might, hopefully, one day read (and enjoy) my work, and as I create I can't help but keep that in the back of my mind. So what are the essential skills of leadership that relate to writing, for me?

1) Basic social skills. 

I can hear you, "what is this chick smoking?" but seriously, how many people/managers have you worked with over the years who lack this?  As a writer, you greet your reader with your very first words. Hands up who has ever struggled with that first, crucial sentence? 

You introduce your reader to your characters, to the plot, to the feeling of your story. I’ve worked with a leader who does not greet her team. She does not say good morning upon arrival, she does not say good night - even in direct response to an employee's greeting. You speak when spoken to, are acknowledged only at her need. Imagine how this makes her employees feel? Would they want to go on a journey with her? So many people are promoted into leadership roles because they’re good at their current job. Unfortunately, those who can do, cannot always teach or lead. I’ve seen some steady, average performers make exceptional leaders, while outstanding performers have not had a clue. As a writer you need to acknowledge your reader, introduce them to your story, and be presently aware of the experience that you wish to give them. It's only polite.

2) Empathy.

Reflection of fact and feeling. How do you want your reader to feel? What is your objective? I find that it's much easier to write about things I have experienced myself (a challenge considering my passion is fantasy) because I have walked in the shoes of my character and experienced the fact and feeling I am describing. 

A leader needs empathy, or at worst, needs to know how to fake it. Recently I heard of a situation where a person had to inform their manager of the passing of a family member. Phone calls were not returned, text messages ignored, emails not responded to. Finally the poor sod had to contact another person in the organization just so they knew for sure that somebody was aware of their situation. In this case the leader didn't even make the effort to acknowledge the issue and fake sympathy, let alone go so far as to display empathy. Upon the employees return to work the death was not even acknowledged. So life goes on, a week later apparently, in this manager's eyes.

But what is my point? As a writer, we need to walk the emotions we want our reader to experience. If we want our reader to cry, then we too should be moved to tears. Walk the talk people, and if you can’t, fake it til you make it!

3) Listening skills.

A vital skill in leadership, and also in general! Ever tell someone something and know they're hearing you, but not understanding you? Frustrating, yeah? Many encounters with Call Centre staff often result in this phenomenon. Well, as a reader you need to know that the writer is LISTENING to you, and as a writer you need to be aware of your audience. It’s called showing each other mutual respect.

This is a subtle art form to master. I am always wondering about my reader: as they read my writing, what are they THINKING? How am I HEARING their thoughts and am I understanding them?

I'm probably not making sense, so let me try and explain.

I'm going to call on Wilbur Smith's Eqyptian series here, which I love dearly. In his first novel, River God, Smith paints a picture of main character Queen Lostris in such a way that the reader falls in love with her (as was his intention). She is an exotic, creamy skinned, green-eyed brunette who the lead character, Taita, loves unconditionally. We spend the entire novel reading of Lostris' exploits along with that of her family and kingdom. In a follow up novel, Warlock, Lostris is referred to repeatedly, and one of her descendants is described, again in reference to her great beauty, slanted green eyes and “dark, glossy tresses.”

Fast forward to the final novel in the series, The Quest, where we again meet the same character Lostris, reincarnated.

But her appearance is completely different, as is her name. In the earlier novels, Lostris’ “discarded” baby name was Lanata. This was repeatedly emphasized due to the fact that the love of her life chose to name his weapon Lanata also. In The Quest, Smith changes that name to Fenn, so now the character we’ve known and loved as Lanata, is now Fenn. What he then also does is change the characters appearance.

Now, imagine if in the fourth Harry Potter novel JKR suddenly decides that Harry James Potter is now Henry Scott Potter, with blond hair, blue eyes and a heart shaped scar on his chin. I mean, it caused enough of a scandal when she changed Hermione's middle name from Jane to Jean in HP7! Well, this is exactly what Smith chose to do. His changes were THAT drastic and also came accompanied with a huge amount of inconsistencies, errors and changes to the personalities of characters from previous novels. It was like both the author and the editor were asleep at the wheel – the Wilbur Smith forums EXPLODED after the novel was released, and not for the right reasons. So my point is instead of being taken on a journey, I found myself stuck in a pit-stop of confusion, and yes, with feelings of betrayal.

Smith did not listen to his readers, nor did he write with respect for them and the emotions they had invested in his characters.

Then we have the complete opposite happening elsewhere where authors are taking Listening to a WHOLE new level! Lauren Kate, author of the best selling Fallen series talked in a recent interview  (03/08/2011) about how she worked WITH her fan base to draw inspiration for the plot of her next novel, Rapture. She has woven their ideas and experiences into it, in homage to them and as a way of interacting with her readers in a way that she normally wouldn’t get to. This is quite extreme to me, and a concept I'm not entirely comfortable with, but I'm prepared to wait and read, before judging.

4) Finally, the ability to motivate, inspire and get people to act on your instructions because they WANT to, not because you force them to.

As a writer, you need to inspire and motivate your reader to want to drink in every last word. Has anyone had the pleasure of wading through Justin Cronin's The Passage, or Christopher Paolini's Inheritance series?

In both situations I found myself skipping ENTIRE PAGES of prose in an attempt to get to a place where something ACTUALLY HAPPENED. The Passage is a novel that really split reviewers. I saw a lot of 1 star reviews interspersed with 5 star reviews. Cronin had a good story on his hands and for some parts of the novel I couldn’t put it down, but his execution was flawed. He went off on huge tangents, and his editor... well, I don't know what his editor did, but it didn't seem to be a lot. I won't go into it all of the reasons I thought this novel could have been SO much better, but I'd be interested if anyone else reading this agrees with me.

Fast forward to books like The Stand, It (both by Stephen King), Harry Potter, Charlotte Brontë’s celebrated novels (who I've literally only just started reading), and Jane Austin... I know this is a small snapshot but these guys KNEW how to capture, motivate and inspire their reader to READ and RE-READ through meticulous planning, execution, passion and skill.

So where was my inspiration for this ramble? Well, I'm currently sitting on an airplane, flying interstate to deliver a session to a group of Team Leaders where the objective is for them to create their own “Leadership Charter.” This is in addition to all the pre-existing leadership paraphernalia that exits throughout the billion-dollar organisation that I work for. This session will be where these Team Leaders create and agree to a defined list of behavioral statements, as a means for THEIR managers to then hold them accountable to.

Why is this necessary? Because the Leaders of these people do not have the skills to inspire, motivate, drive performance and lead their people to a point where they WANT to act consistently without coercion. It's a way of the leaders having a list of behaviours that they can then now wield as a stick for non-compliance “you helped to build these behaviours, and agreed to adhere to them, and now you’re not I’m going to punish you MWAHAHAHAHAHA!”

I, as the designer of this session, have called this deficiency out loud and clear and said WHY are we not looking at the reasons these peole are choosing not to act, instead of just creating yet another method of driving their accountability?

But nobody is, or wants, to listen.

As a reader, have you encountered authors like this? As an author, is it something you consider? What are your thoughts?

Quality Assurance for Self Publishers!

The opportunities that eReaders have presented to the wannabe author to self publish have, for some, revolutionised their dreams of eventually becoming an author with real books, on real shelves, in real bookstores (while they still exist, anyway).  Taking on the task of writing, publishing and marketing your own novel has become an outlet for authors who can’t get a look-in with agents or publishing houses – or perhaps don’t know how to.

Matthew Riley is one of the standard true self-published success stories. His first novel, a cracking good read called Contest, was originally published in a self-funded run of 1000 copies and Riley put in the hard yards and actually convinced local bookstores to stock his book. It was then picked up off the shelf by Pan McMillan editor Cate Paterson, who read the book and signed Riley up, with Contest going on to become a best seller. Matthew Riley is now one of Australia’s best selling authors, and a personal favourite of mine. 

What Riley did exceptionally well, though, was deliver a good quality product, by himself, up front. It was such good quality an editor of a major publishing house noticed it. It was clearly edited very well and written in Riley’s fast paced style.

Not everyone, however, has this natural talent, attention to detail, funding or a network of support to assist with this.

I’ve written some novels, and although I am meticulous, reading and re-reading obsessively, when I pick it back up some weeks later all I see are the flaws and typos and I can’t understand how I missed them the first time!

And it’s here where a lot of self-published new authors are falling over. They are publishing on Kindle for a minimum sales price, and as an interested reader and supporter of these novelists I then download them. I actually reviewed a great one a few weeks ago (see SEED here). That being said, it’s often rare for me to encounter a novel where it is not riddled with typos and overly descriptive dialogue (where the novelist relies on the characters to explain in absolute detail everything that has happened, will happen and might happen, in the book). Or worse: pages and pages of back-story that result in me skimming past full pages of writing. One of my fellow bloggers and author Roland Yeoman wrote a blog recently about the five deadly sins of writing, but there is a LOT more advice out there for budding writers on the “do’s and don’ts” of self publishing.  The reality is this though – based on my experience as a reader, I would NEVER self publish without relying on my network to read it first, and provide editing advice. I would NEVER self publish without verbal editing - reading my book out loud (to the wall, or to my pug) , and I would never self publish without… wait for it… wait for iiiiiittttttttt…

A spellcheck.

Seriously. Type errors are one thing, easy to do especially if you produce all your writing on a keyboard (I try to hand-write when I can). But incorrect spelling?

Not good enough.

Even if someone IS only paying .99c for your product!

If you’re self publishing, I would assume that you probably want to be picked up by a publishing house (unless you’re wildly successful online) so wouldn’t you want to produce a top-quality product up front? So don’t do it on your own! Work hard to establish a network around you, participate in blog communities, join chat boards of like-minded people, ask your friends. Anything. Just don’t publish a poor quality product if you can help it.

I’m going to try and learn this lesson in advance.

Epiphanies on Writing

Isn't it strange what shape and form epiphanies can take?

I've had a few in my life: moments of revelation where you see situations and opportunities so very clearly. One was when I was going through a horrible time in my personal life. In my darkest hour I was walking down my street, crying, and a pink rose fell out of a neighbour's bush and landed right in front of me on the sidewalk. It looked like it had been perfectly sheered through the stem with a pair of scissors, although I knew that was not possible as there was nobody around. I picked it up and carried it with me that day, choosing to see it as a sign that everything would be okay. And it was. Just a few hours later everything resolved itself, but I kept that rose alive as long as I could as a reminder of the power of positive thinking, and what it meant to me on that day when I’d completely lost the ability to be objective about my situation.

My most recent epiphany was about writing. You see, I've always wanted to be a writer, as a little girl I used to go through mountains of notebooks writing what was for the most part gibberish. I still have books that I "self published" as an eight year old, rambling stories about unicorns, complete with illustrations and held together with yellowing sticky-tape.  As a teenager I excelled in English and Literature, and was even known on the odd occasion to complete assignments for friends and siblings purely for the pleasure of it (although one time I did get busted writing a Shakespeare essay for my sister - we had the same English teacher who unfortunately recognised my writing when compared to what my near illiterate sister had produced for previous assignments. Luckily she had a sense of humour). My penchant for reading and writing was something I most certainly inherited from my father, whose obsession with writing poetry and lyrics drives my mother insane to this very day.

My choice of reading material as a child also raised eyebrows. My father, the avid horror/thriller reader had an amazing collection of hundreds of books. None captured my imagination more than Stephen King, and at age ten I remember the teacher asking my parents if they were comfortable with my choice of book in class: Stephen King's "IT." Her concern was related to the extreme horror, sex scenes and adult content. The fact that a ten year old was comfortably tackling a book upwards of 1100 pages didn't seem to phase her. Dad admitted that while he wasn't happy about it, all attempts to stop me had simply encouraged me further, so instead of preventing me from reading, he had tried to censor my access to his collection. So he took a selection of his more intense novels and moved them.

Naturally, when I noticed that Thomas Harris' "The Silence of the Lambs" and Bret Easton Ellis' "American Psycho" had been relegated to the top shelf along with a few others, it was like waving a red flag to a bull. I took several precarious trips up that bookshelf to retrieve them, with great success. My first choice was The Silence of the Lambs, and I had that confiscated several times before dad gave up. My attempts to read American Psycho (the only book in Dad's collection with a RATED "R" sign on the cover) ended in serious trouble. Dad caught me reading it once as I curled up under his desk. He tore it out of my hands and said if he EVER saw me with it again I'd cop a hiding. Since Dad had only ever smacked me once in living memory and it was not a pleasant experience, I took him seriously and it was many, many years later that I attempted it again. Once I read it, I understood why Dad was so concerned.

Around the same time, in recognition of my "blossoming talents," my father also presented me with an old-fashioned ink-ribbon typewriter that he'd picked up at the Sunday market for a steal. On the same trip my mother had also found a full collection of second hand Sweet Valley High novels that they both agreed was more age appropriate for me. I fell in love with both gifts but was especially enthusiastic about the typewriter. Ink-ribbons were hard to come by and while I used them until they wore through, mum and dad were gracious about keeping me in good supply. Reams of paper were churned through as I mastered the ancient typewriter. It was, as my little brother would say, "old school," you really had to PUNCH down on the buttons like you were angry with them, and it took my little wrists some weeks to get used to it. The letter "A" didn't work, so I would leave a space and hand write it in later, and the "Y" button landed half a line below the rest of the letters, giving the text a wonky look. That being said it was still with pride that I handed in my school assignments in typewritten format, in the age just before computers, that was certainly a novelty.

Amazingly, I got so proficient with the old typewriter that I could touch-type at a fantastic speed; so fast in fact that the letters would jam up and I'd need to slow down. The clickety-clack of the keys drove mum to distraction, although years later when I started playing the Piccolo, practicing for hours after school, I think she secretly wished for the return of the clickety-clack! So in case I haven't articulated myself clearly, as a child reading and writing were my obsessions, and I'd spend hours creating fantastical stories which were, in my eyes, absolutely brilliant - not that I'd let anyone read them!

I never knew what happened to that typewriter, it was replaced by an electronic model a few years later (again, found at the good old Sunday Market) and I literally used it to death. I am not overly sentimental, but it would've been nice to keep that old manual typewriter, it was in great condition and would probably be a collectors’ item by now. More than that though, it would be a reminder of one of the happiest times of my childhood, in that stage between innocence and the realization that things around you are not as trouble free as they once seemed. If I asked my mother what happened to the typewriter, she'd probably know, but I suspect it went to the tip, and if that is the answer I don't want to hear it.

But back to epiphanies! The older I got the less writing I did, it was a gradual decline that started around the age of thirteen, and once I hit my senior high school years and had a job, a boyfriend, band practice etc it completely dropped off the radar. That was until a period about five years ago when I became extremely unwell. The extra time in bed afforded me the leisure of concentrating on it, but once I recovered it faded again as a priority.

A few weeks ago my grandmother sadly passed away, and my family packed up and headed to my mother's hometown four hours away for the funeral and essential pre-arrangements. I was reading in my hotel room (shocking I know) when my mum rang and told me that they'd written the eulogy but couldn't get it right, and could I please come over and see what I could do with it?

They presented me with what they'd done, and while I had to be highly respectful of the original content, I made enough changes to ensure it flowed beautifully, and by the time I'd finished all present gave it their seal of approval.

The next day the eulogy was read out at the funeral, and while it was incredibly sad, what I was not prepared for was the thrill I received hearing the funeral director read my words to the audience. I hung on every word, cringed when sentences were not delivered with the intended rhythm, noticed when certain key words were not emphasized, and relished the sentences that were delivered with the appropriate pace. When people laughed I felt a sense of satisfaction, and although short and respectful, I hoped that all involved were pleased with my work. It was after she'd finished, when I was headed home that evening, that I had my epiphany: I'd do anything for that thrill again, of hearing my writing being read to a captive audience, and its played on mind ever since... hence the creation of this blog.

So is that a tale I should tell? That a re-written eulogy was my inspiration for finally making a commitment to my writing? It's amazing the form in which messages can come, but maybe it was my grandmother's way of putting me back on what had always been my intended track? I’m not sure, however I intend to use this opportunity and capitalize on it, in any way that I can.

Have you had any epiphanies lately (beside the one where you realised I am extremely long winded?),

Signing Off,

Tripping Tipsy

Lois Lowry's The Giver - Book Review

I am a huge fan of cinema, and as such I am an avid reader of some of the bigger movie blogs out there. What this also permits me to do is to become somewhat of a retrospective reader.

Whenever my favourite movie blog Slash Film announces a new book adaptation, most of the time I have at least heard of the book, or been lucky enough to have read it. That being said, every once in a while along comes a movie being created from a book I have never heard about. The Giver by Lois Lowry is one of those books.

How I couldn’t have heard of it, considering I’m such an avid reader of sci-fi/fantasy I just don’t understand. Googling it generated thousands of responses, and if I wanted to I could have waded into the ocean of reviews, cliffs notes, opinions, and essays all about this 1993 award winning novel.

So I declined to read the reviews, I turned away from the cliffs notes and instead switched on my Kindle to see if it was available. It was. And such an interesting, albeit brief journey The Giver took me on.

I have an innate ability to read extremely quickly. When the last few Harry Potter books were released I was one of the first on the fan forums ready to discuss what occurred (yes, I’m admitting here there was a stage of my life when I frequented Harry Potter fan forums). As such, I completed The Giver across two nights, only pausing because sleep was at that stage, a required process for function.

So for those of you who haven’t read The Giver, how should I summarise it?

Jonas lives in a utopian society. There is no pain, no suffering, no disadvantage, no poverty or hunger. Many generations ago Jonas’ society adopted an existence of “sameness” - for where can there be sadness and pain when you take the choices that lead to this existence away? Lowry spends some time building this environment and its serene existence for the reader, while slowly introducing disturbing undertones and touching on the anxiety Jonas feels about his twelfth birthday. In this society, upon turning twelve an individual will be allocated the job they will perform for the rest of their life. When informed of his job, Jonas is as shocked as everyone else.

Jonas will be The Receiver.

A role only allocated once every few generations, The Receiver’s role is to form a relationship with The Giver, whose task is to transfer all the memories of the human world to Jonas for him to hold on behalf of the community. It is in undergoing this process that Jonas truly begins to understand and comprehend the gravity of what his people have given up to adopt their “utopian” lifestyle, and as a result he begins to question everything he thought was right.

Personally, I found The Giver to be quite unnerving. While only halfway through I admitted to a work colleague that I found the story disturbing and I wondered at the messages Lowry was trying to send.

I have always struggled with the concept that writers build their stories with a hidden message interwoven throughout. I mean, seriously, why can’t we just let a story BE a story? Do we really think Shakespeare wrote Hamlet hoping that hundreds of years later classes of school children would be analysing Hamlet’s soliloquy? Maybe Shakespeare just wanted to write a story about a guy who was cheesed off because his father was murdered by his uncle! I don’t know, maybe it’s a sign I need to put more thought into my own writing, however I’m fairly certain that up until a certain point Lowry is trying to send some messages about the benefits of the society we currently live in, in comparison to Jonas’s “utopian” existence.

The story itself however plods along and builds to a point of great potential, and then for me, it seems to unravel. Imagine someone pushing a tiny snowball down a hill, hoping it will gain speed and size, and instead it isn’t big enough and dissolves with a puff halfway to the bottom. That was The Giver for me.

Jonas reaches a point in the story where he makes a decision to act, however I think the journey he goes on to reach this decision could have been built with more foundation. Here is a person who has been raised to believe something, it’s the foundation of his very existence, and yet within days he is questioning beliefs he didn’t even know were optional before. The internal struggle must have been immense but for me I don’t feel I was taken on that journey.

The last few chapters speed to an uncertain conclusion, which is in itself a brave ending that leaves the reader thinking, but could have been so much richer.

So my ultimate conclusion? Being brutally honest, my first feeling upon completion was regret. If only this story had been given the investment it deserved, so much potential wasted. That being said, this is a well loved novel which has developed into a literature staple for many curriculums, so maybe I’m missing something?  I will be reading this one again, if anything to try and take from it the love so many others have.

What did you think?

Check it out here: The Giver

Tripping Tipsy: 3 stars.

5 stars:  Amazing, definitely being added to my personal collection!

4 stars:  Enjoyable.

3 stars:  Not bad.

2 stars:  What happened?

1 star:   Can I get those wasted hours of my life back please?

Brunch in Black Rock - Cafeteria Restaurant Review

One thing you will learn about me is that I am a big fan of BRUNCH. One of my favorite weekend activities is to creep out of bed at a "decent" hour, find a new café, and hope all the while that it is warm enough to sit outside with my pug beneath my feet. It is one time of the week that The Boyfriend and I both value immensely, so much so that on the odd occasion that I arrange to do something else at the sacrifice of our weekly ritual, I need to find some way to make it up to him lest I receive the dreaded glare of disappointment. 
This morning was one of those glorious winter mornings where the hint of spring is in the air, and dads everywhere are tentatively wheeling out their lawn mowers to try and tame their temporarily dry lawns. Delighting in the possibility that we could actually sit outside comfortably for the first time in months, off we went to Black Rock to find some seaside brunch fare.

With the idea of driving around Black Rock until spotting a decent, not too busy place, Cafeteria, a bright cafe back from the beach was spotted immediately and we got out to investigate. It was eventually chosen because the French patisserie next door was naturally heavy on the pastry and I was looking for something lighter.

We settled ourselves outside and were promptly greeted by the waiter who promised a quick return with menus. Ten minutes later we were still waiting. It was during those ten minutes of toe tapping that we started to get cold, and also realized the slight angle the table and chairs we were on meant a never ending battle to stay upright. So instead of leaving, which we should have done, we headed inside.

Again, we were promptly greeted by a waitress, who also promised a quick return with menus, and actually followed through on that promise, going above and beyond by also bringing a carafe of water and some glasses. Encouraged, I wondered if maybe it was the first waiter who was the problem and not the café itself. I spotted our original waiter at a table flirting with a group of five raucous young ladies, a place where he seemed content to hover until they left half an hour later. I ordered my standard latté and The Boyfriend ordered a caramel milkshake.

My watery latté.

While waiting I took a moment to examine my surroundings. The bright little cafe was simply decorated with tones of olive green and yellow, with a relaxed, chatty atmosphere. The table of young ladies and their screeching laughter would not be appreciated if I was hungover but since I'm not and it's such a lovely day I decide to merely observe them and the way they skillfully monopolized the waiters attention despite other customers waiving desperately at him for service.

The menu itself is quite diverse, but with the breakfast menu ending at 12.00pm it doesn't cater to the "late brunch" crowd. That being said there is a good selection on the All Day menu available, and I'm torn between the home made spiced pumpkin & cranberry bread with hazelnut marscopone, or the hot chicken meatballs with mushroom & basil on olive oil bread. In the end I get menu envy after spotting a neighbour's dish, and copy them by ordering the Ricotta hot cakes with a berry compote and honey cinnamon yogurt, accompanied by a banana smoothie. The Boyfriend goes outside the square and orders Eggs Benedict and a side order of fries. Apparently he is hungry!


So all around me are various dishes all looking quite delicious. The omelette with chorizo, capsicum and potato has my mouth watering, and the pork belly with asian salad - oh my god. The place is only about half full, and the bar staff work with a good rhythm, but it seems one waitress is run off her feet, while the other (who I shall refer to as The Flirter) is continuing to hover around his table of choice. He has really mastered the art of paying attention to these girls, so much so he actually managed to serve our milkshake without even facing his body towards our table! He kind of shuffled backwards, lent back and placed the glass blindly on our table (almost knocking over the carafe), all while holding a conversation with the girls (who were all completely out of his league).

So while we were entertained by The Flirter, other customers clearly weren't and I saw some toe tapping and eye rolling around me. But back to the food and drinks. 


My latté? Watery. 


Now I am no barista, I mean, I manned a cappuccino machine in Karingal Hub Food Court for five years during my high school years, but I don't think that counts. That being said, I know enough to be aware that lattés - not meant to be watery.

I drank it though, because like I said yesterday, coffee outside the city can be hit and miss, but looked forward to my banana smoothie.

At this price those bananas
had better be self peeling!

Now some of you might be aware that Australia is suffering through The Great Banana Crisis. Mind you I'm the only one actually calling it The Great Banana Crisis, mainly because I love them so much. A fresh banana smoothie in the mornings... oh so yum. Since the catastrophic flooding in Queensland however, our banana supplies have become scarce and the price has skyrocketed. Many places have taken banana-based dishes off their menu altogether, or are charging an exorbitant price for them. And what is an exorbitant price for a banana? Try $13 a kilo. Seriously. Before this they were maybe $2.00 a kilo, so now bananas are out of reach for the average joe unless you have a serious need for potassium and are prepared to sacrifice other essentials, like toilet paper and petrol.

So when I see my banana smoothie delivered I almost dive into it I am THAT excited (I don't get out much). I take a big mouthful and then enter into a galactic battle not to spit it back out. It is sour. Ever had an unripe banana? It is bitter and twisted, and so is my smoothie. Seems they've decided that using unripe bananas is acceptable in the current banana-climate. It isn't. I end up dumping a heap of sugar into it and stirring for five minutes just to make the damn thing drinkable. Should I have complained? Probably, but I didn't want to distract The Flirter from trying to pick up those teenagers.

So back to the food, my ricotta hotcakes, which The Flirter deigned to deliver, are fluffy and cooked to perfection. The savory element on the dish, they are complimented by the sourness of the lemon and the sweetness of the fruit. The yogurt, surprisingly, is quite bland, I can't taste the honey and the cinnamon is lacking in punch, I end up leaving most of it on the plate. 

The Boyfriend's Eggs Benedict looked fantastic and I wanted to help him out with them, but he had a grumble because one of the eggs was over cooked (he is a big believer that the runnier the better) but he at least finished the meal. The two of us also agreed to disagree on the pesto aioli that came with his side of chips. I loved it, he wanted tomato sauce (or ketchup for those foreigners out there).

So my verdict on this café? Coffee could be better, the waiter needs to lower his standards and stop trying to bat above his average, and they should stop serving unripe bananas in their food. The meals themselves were pretty good, and there were some other things on the menu I wish I could have ordered as well. 

The big question though: will we be going back? 

No. 

Would I tell you not to go there though? I'll let you make your own mind up on that one.

2.5 stars.