I feel really terrible about this book as I was the one who could have stopped it going to press. Joyce was a fabulous writer of fiction for children, but non-fiction was not her thing.
Maybe part of the problem was that it was her story. Maybe she shouldn't have been the one telling that.
Even worse than this effort was a biography of a Melbourne academic which she was commissioned to write for Melbourne University Press. When I read her first draft I was aghast at her complete lack of understanding of and empathy for her subject. Fifteen odd years later I'm still shaking my head about it. Luckily this one didn't see the light of day.