Caroline Overington
Caroline Overington is an Australian author and journalist.
She has worked for The Age and The Sydney Morning Herald, and is is currently a staff writer for The Weekend Australian Magazine.
Caroline is a two-time winner of the Walkley Award for Investigative Journalism. She won her first Walkley for a series of articles about a literary fraud, and her second for a series about the AWB oil for food scandal.
She is also a winner of the Sir Keith Murdoch prize for excellence in Journalism; and of the Blake Dawson Prize.
Caroline has published five books. Her first, Only in New York, was about working as a foreign correspondent in Manhattan.
Her second, Kickback, was about the UN oil for food scandal. It won the Blake Dawson Prize for Business Literature.
Her first novel, Ghost Child, is about a child murdered by his parents.
Her second, I Came To Say Goodbye, takes the form of a letter from a grandfather to a Supreme Court judge. It was shortlisted for both the Fiction Book of the Year, and overall Book of the Year, in the 2011 Australian Book Industry Awards.
Her latest novel, published in October 2011, is called Matilda is Missing. It is set in the Family Court, and it is about a couple's war over custody of their two year old daughter, Matilda.
Caroline's books are proudly published by Random House Australia.
Caroline is a mother of delightful, 11-year-old twins. She lives with her kids, her husband, a blue dog, and a lizard, in Bondi.
“Dr Bell clears his throat : "Matilda showed unambiguous excitement at the prospect of seeing her father and when the two were brought together for observation, her response was one of joy. There is genuine attachment between the two and it is difficult for me to conclue that Garry Gary Hartshorn poses any threat to his daughter, Matilda. On the contrary, it seems to me that Matilda is missing him.”
“I see that both her parents are here. I'm pleased that they are, because I'd like to take the opportunity, early in what I fear will be a long and bitter battle, to tell them what I think of what they're doing to their child. I'm not spearking here about their fight for custody of her. I'm speaking here about their decision to get divorced. Let's not fool ourselves about what divorce is. Divorice is a failure of parenting. It does more damage to children than just About anything else that might happen to them in the years before they become adults. It takes from them the only things they hold dear. It breaks up their home. It destroys their sense of family. It removes them from the comfort of having one bed, in one safe, secure, familiar house, where they go to sleep every night of the week. It fills them with sadness and, probably, guilt. They can't help but think that they must somehow be to blame. It sets them up for a world in which nothing is certain and nobody can be trusted.”
“I said to the social worker "Would you stop me from having a child of my own?" Of course, they wouldn't have been able to do that. I could well have had a child of my own, and there would be nothing they could have done about that. Anybody can have their own child. Doesn't matter if they are drug abusers or prostitutes or paedophiles, but when you want to adopt they put you through hoops, like infertility makes you less capable of being a parent.”
“It's okay, Harley. I'm just down the hall." He didn't say anything but I could tell he was afraid. I closed the door gently behind me and tiptoed down the hall. I stood in the kitchen, my heart pounding. I was listening for his cry, but there was not sound at all. I went back into the hall. Harley had got out of bed and put his hands under the door. His fingers were coming out from underneath. They were blue and luminous, like starfish. When I opened the door - I was careful not to scrape the skin off the back of his hands - he looked up from where he lay on the floor with saucer eyes and implored me, "I want to sleep with you." I put out my arms and he climbed into them. I carried him down the hall, in his singlet and his Kermit underpants. I put Harley down in the middle of our mattress. He curled like a kitten into the hollow.”
“Obviously, children die every day, and it is surely conceivable to every one of us that one of our children will pre-decease us. Nevertheless, it is the thing we most fear. It is the thing we in modern medicine devote our greatest energy toward preventing. In modern times, it still seems to most of us that the death of a child is a gross violation of the pact we have with our God. He gives us children. We should, therefore, be allowed to raise them. That is the natural order of the world.”