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Melina Marchetta Biography

Melina Marchetta (born 25 March 1965) is an Australian writer and teacher. Marchetta is best known as the author of teen novels, Looking for Alibrandi, Saving Francesca and On the Jellicoe Road. She has twice been awarded the CBCA Children's Book of the Year Award: Older Readers, in 1993 and 2004. For Jellicoe Road she won the 2009 Michael L. Printz Award from the American Library Association, recognising the year's best book for young adults. Marchetta holds a name for being one of the more prominent Australian Authors of present time in Young-Adult Fiction.

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Melina Marchetta Quotes

I want to tell him that deep down each time Hannah looked at him she was grateful it was him because Jude did something that the others didn't. He came back for her.

Came, Deep Down, Down, Grateful, Tell, Want

I miss the Stella girls telling me what I am. That I'm sweet and placid and accommodating and loyal and nonthreatening and good to have around. And Mia. I want her to say, "Frankie, you're silly, you're lazy, you're talented, you're passionate, you're restrained, you're blossoming, you're contrary. " I want to be an adjective again. But I'm a noun. A nothing. A nobody. A no one.

Girl, Girls, Nonthreatening, Silly, Stella, Sweet

Sometimes you look at me and it's like all the bullshit gets stripped off and I'm left with what's underneath and I kind of like what I see. Someone who actually fails. Someone who has absolutely no self-control. Someone who says real dickhead things like 'this is complicated. ' I like that part of me, you know. I like the fact that I know I can't control you or how I feel about you and that doesn't freak me out.

Control, Control Someone, Dickhead, Look, Real, Self

I didn't know you had a girlfriend, Griggs. " Anson Choi feigns surprise. "What's her name?" "I didn't actually catch her name," Griggs continues. "Lily," Raffaela says over her shoulder and this time I give her a sideways look. "Great to know that I'm in love with a girl with a cool name. " "It's Taylor's middle name," Raffaela calls back again.

Choi, Girl, Girlfriend, Giving, Love, Names

I hope you're not smoking in front of her,' Lucia says to him. 'Yeah, I lie in bed and puff in her face, Lucia,' he says, irritated.

Bed, Face, Lie, Lying, Puff, Smoking

And life goes on, which seems kind of strange and cruel when you're watching someone die. But there's a joy and an abundance of everything, like information and laughter and summer weather and so many stories. My mother urges me to write them down because, "You're the last of the Markhams, my love. " So I record dates and journeys and personalities and traits and heroes and losers and weaknesses and strengths and I try to capture every one of those people because one day I'll need what they had to offer.

Capture, Dates, Laughter, Mother, Summer, Traits

I never thought meeting you would be this boring. I thought we'd put our Italian emotion into gear and scream the place down. I never expected indifference.

Boring, Gear, Gears, Italian, Meeting, Would Be

You're the father of the person who is my life.

Father, Life, Person, Persons

Josie, life is not a Mills and Boon book. People fall out of love. People disappoint other people and they find it very hard to forgive.

Falling In Love, Book, People, Life, Forgive

The string slices into the skin of his fingers and no matter how tough the calluses, it tears. But this beat is fast and even though his joints are aching, his arm's out of control like it has a mind of its own and the sweat tat drenches his hair and face seems to smother him, but nothing's going to stop Tom. He;s aiming for oblivion.

Hair, Matter, Mind, Sweat, Tat, Though

A very underestimated part of the world, The Entrance is.

Entrance, Entrances, Part, Underestimated, World

. . . what was it like out there? Kind of describe it to us," Jessa says, beaming at them and then at me. Trini beams at her and there's a lot of beaming happening.

Beam, Beams, Happenings, Kind, Says

She gently placed his hand against the beating pulse of her heart. Always, always it beat out of control, and he held his hand to it until he felt it perfectly match his.

Control, Hand, Hands, Heart, Perfectly, Pulse

You're good enough, Jacob.

Enough, Good, Good Enough, Jacob

About my first memory, sitting on the shoulders of a giant who I know can only be my father. Of touching the sky. Of lying between two people who read me stories of wild things and journeys with dragons, the soft hum of their voices speaking of love and serenity. See, I remember love.

Father, Journeys, Lying, Memories, Shoulders, Soft

No stories or explanations,' Finnikin had once told him. 'When it comes to women, straight into an apology and you will find the rest of your life bearable.

Apology, Explanations, Rest Of Your Life, Stories, Told, Women

The music department is going to do a musical next year," he tells me, rolling his eyes like I would. Justine is running toward me, and I can tell by the look on her face that she's found out about the musical, too. I sigh, shaking my head. "I have to give Justine a lesson in holding back," I tell him. "She's just way too enthusiastic". She grabs my arms in excitement. "We're doing Les Mis. " I scream hysterically, clutching her as we jump up and down.

Down, Eye, Eyes, Give, Running, Years

Then he holds her and for a moment I hear total silence; that totally silent part of a cry that announces that the most horrible grief is going to follow. And it does, and he's muffling it, but I can hear and I want someone to come over and jab her with a sedative because its pitch pierces my soul.

Grief, Horrible, Sedative, Silence, Soul

I look around for the counter that sells my scent, but I'm so petrified that if I spray it in the air, nothing will come out. And then Mia's scent seems to fade away and everything else fades away with it and I know that all I have to do to recapture it is press the spray button again.

Air, Button, Buttons, Come, Looks, Spray

I don't say anything and he casually leans against my desk, picking up the novel that's sitting there. "It's bullshit," he tells me, flicking through it. "There's no such thing as Atticus Finch. " I shrug. "It'd be nice if there was, though.

Nice, Bullshit, Say Anything, Say, Finch

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