Enter Susan Johnson, the Brisbane-based author who has written or edited 11 works of fiction, including From Where I Fell, a deeply moving epistolary novel published in 2021, as well as two nonfiction books. Johnson's work has been longlisted for the Miles Franklin and Dublin IMPAC literary awards, and shortlisted for the Commonwealth Writers' Prize, the Queensland Premier's Prize, and the Christina Stead Award, among others. Her work has also been published around the world. With that many publications to her name, and that many accolades under her belt, Susan Johnson should be better known, at least at home, but - and she readily admits this herself - her impact has been limited.

One can only wonder why.

Aphrodite's Breath is a memoir in which Johnson explores and documents the time when, not that long ago, she travelled with her 85-year-old mother to the Greek island of Kythera. It is a fascinating premise for a memoir (for a novel too), considering the seniority of mother Barbara, and the fiery independence and drive of the author. The difference between these women, one that is no doubt largely a function of generational expectations, experiences and societal constraints, is marked. Barbara dedicated her life to her late husband, raising children and maintaining a home; she is also religious, a physically attractive person who keeps her looks into old age, despite being a lifelong smoker. In her daughter's hands, Barbara is loving, controlling, patient, judgemental, reserved, and funny; she will be familiar to many readers of a certain age (including this humble scribe). Meanwhile, Johnson, who was raised in that upper-middleclass enclave of St Ives on Sydney's supremely comfortable North Shore, has longed for a life of the mind through literature, despite being married, raising two sons, divorcing, marrying again, and divorcing again. She has supplemented her meagre literary income with one derived from newspaper journalism. At the time of writing the memoir, Johnson is 62 and full-time journalism is a thing of the past.

Aphrodite's Breath tracks mother and daughter as they set themselves up on Kythera for a year. Johnson had spent a part of her 20s on the island and wants to experience it again, but, being the eldest child, she felt that she could not leave her mother alone back in Brisbane. The house they rent is not what Barbara had expected: it is cold, draughty, and poorly laid out; it is a relatively new building but constructed in "the traditional style". Tensions soon become arguments. Johnson is editing a novel and writing notes for this memoir, of which her mother is fully aware, but also doing her best to engage in the local communities. Meanwhile Barbara seems to only want to lock herself indoors or smoke outside when it is warm enough. In short, it is a challenging arrangement, which will put the mother-daughter relationship under considerable strain.

What lifts this memoir into being a singular reading experience is Johnson's ability to situate the central relationship in the place and life of Kythera, which becomes an intricately rendered third character. We get to know many of the island's residents, some of whom are captivating and memorable, their stories and observations greatly affecting. Aphrodite's Breath is also literature at its best: it goes deep and wide, into the mind as well as the heart, and shies away from easy answers (though the final pages do shallow somewhat). This memoir pulls its readers along with its sheer narrative force, but it could also be reread because of its intelligence, literary skill, and astute vulnerability. As the author writes, "According to [Roland] Barthes, I could only look forward to killing my mother by writing about her, and then icing my book of death by dedicating it to the cruellest of paradoxes. I could not begin to imagine how I could write my book. It suddenly seemed not just a poisoned chalice, but also the worst idea I had ever had in my life." It may well turn out to be Johnson's best.