But you sense there's something here so innocent, so charmed, that it's almost certain to crack. And halfway through, just as Barney has overcome his Director's Block and objects have begun inexplicably disappearing, small white envelopes with "YOU" inscribed on the front start turning up in strange locations.
Brother and sister become obsessed with strange cartoon figures. Two older characters appear, enigmatic, potentially inimical. Things darken, become ambivalent. "(N)othing is quite as it was."
The narrative plunges towards a terrible loss, a genuine narrative master-stroke, in 32 seconds of fear which I have absolutely no intention of revealing to you, before a coda of tentative healing and affirmation. It's an ending which leaves you shaken yet somehow reassured.
The Cutting Room is fascinated by the bounteous variety and unpredictability of people. One of De Goldi's skills has always been in building pre-adult characters complex and credible enough to engage adult readers, and she does that again here.
It's a cast as colourful as an operetta: Suit, who carries an alarm clock in his briefcase; Coralie, baker of (Organic) Iced Rodents - brackets obligatory; Orange Boy and Crimson Girl, potent yet evasive. The plot occasionally gets distracted by the near-surfeit of people, but as one of them notes during Barney's documentary of The Street's stories, "Look what you unleashed!"
Some nice literary tropes are tucked away: the semi-reliable narrator; the beloved writers who "take up residence within you"; story as odyssey and therapy. Great control of tone; a protagonist who will haunt you for days afterwards; breadth of skill and generosity of spirit. An author who's a national asset.
From The Cutting Room Of Barney Kettle
by Kate De Goldi
(Longacre $30)