If you're looking for an example of how a classic literary text can speak to the present, you... more If you're looking for an example of how a classic literary text can speak to the present, you could hardly do better than Clancy of the Overflow. Banjo Paterson's poem of a century ago caught some Australian attitudes that are with us still. A sweet moment of the later Howard years, during the Australian Wheat Board scandal, came with the email circulation of an apt parody, Howard of the Overflow, penned I believe by a Canberra insider. It begins: I had written him a letter, which I had, for want of better Knowledge, sent to where I met him at the Wheat Board, years ago. He was chairman when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him Just on spec, to make the point that 'Howard doesn't want to know'. That letter, unanswered or never received; the clumsy goings on in far-off lands; the great public unknowing, through perfected bureaucratic arts of the swamp (now known as wetlands) and sinkhole (review, inquiry, commission) the old poem allows for it all in its wistful option of riding off into a neverland where accountability is left behind. The lone male drover survives as a fantasy of settler mythology, the one who doesn't settle, the man on a journey to a void beyond communication and constraint. But for me the poem also comes to mind whenever I reflect on Australia's attempts to engage in cultural dialogue with the outside world
Translation is a mystery, ambiguously both service and craft. We put our faith in it, as we put o... more Translation is a mystery, ambiguously both service and craft. We put our faith in it, as we put our faith in diplomacy. While translators go about their work with invisible care, discussion of translation highlights the risks. Jokes about translation gone wrong plug the odd spots of newspapers and magazines. After Babel, we readily believe that all translation is mistranslation, at best a sign of damaged communication between human beings. A gulf opens between translation in practice and in theory.
The iron-bearing stones that grow from cast, gilded heads in Ah Xian s latest works have been nam... more The iron-bearing stones that grow from cast, gilded heads in Ah Xian s latest works have been named Xuan Yuan by China s View Stone Association, for the mountain outside Beijing from where they were carried out in baskets on the backs of local farmers, valued not for their mineral content but as collectibles, given the age-old Chinese love of strange stones. Here they appear as one with human figures, but not quite. Like heavy, angular thought bubbles, these protruberant stones unsettle the viewer with a reminder that the oneness of humankind and nature is so often a state of precarious balance.
Roger Jose had lived in Borroloola in an upside-down water tank with his Aboriginal wife Maggie f... more Roger Jose had lived in Borroloola in an upside-down water tank with his Aboriginal wife Maggie for most of the twentieth century. An eccentric, a hermit, a bushman, a bush philosopher and the last custodian of the famous Borroloola Library before it was eaten by termites, he practised reconciliation long before the idea was tossed around as a political football. In this highly original book, novelist Nicholas Jose mixes biography, history, travel and politics to enter the world of Roger Jose. Could he be the mystery relative, the black sheep that the family never speaks of? Jose's journey takes him to Borroloola, located on the Gulf of Carpentaria, Australia's northernmost shore and on the routes of navigation between East and West. A place where white men lived like blackfellas, and where Aboriginal culture remained strong enough to extend its power into present-day politics. Black Sheep tells Roger Jose's story, and chronicles other meetings across the Gulf Country. J...
Every picture tells a story. Sometimes what happens around a picture can be as telling as the pic... more Every picture tells a story. Sometimes what happens around a picture can be as telling as the picture itself. Without having to change in any way, the picture finds itself in such interesting times that its meaning and value alter. That is what happened to some art works seen for the first time in an exhibition in Beijing in February 1989. Let me tell you their story, through to the present, now that the Chinese art market has become red‐hot. It's an intriguing illustration of anomalies and adjustments across the board in China's unparalleled social transformation.
The first time I visited the exhibition of the Italian artist Giorgio Morandi at the Art Gallery ... more The first time I visited the exhibition of the Italian artist Giorgio Morandi at the Art Gallery of New South Wales I found myself almost alone. Having come straight from a busy meeting, I was easily transported, as I gazed at those serene and silent paintings and prints in those serene and silent gallery spaces, into a state of rapture and recognition. I was entering somewhere I had been before, finding it unchanged, which meant it would still be unchanged in future, and yet finding it still a place I wanted to be. There is something almost time-stopping about that.
The result of a collaboration between Sydney's Macquarie University and International PEN Syd... more The result of a collaboration between Sydney's Macquarie University and International PEN Sydney Centre, and funded by the Australia Council for the Arts and the Australian Research Council, 'The Literature of Australia' gathers the most distinctive and most significant of the nation's writing. Coverage of over two hundred years of literature in all genres, from the 1700s to the present, and over 500 entries from 307 different authors, including writing by Aboriginal authors from the early colonial period to the present. Work from contemporary authors of international renown, including Shirley Hazzard, Peter Carey, David Malouf, Les Murray, Alexis Wright, and Kate Grenville. Biographical details about the authors of the works selected, an introductory essay, major essays setting the works in their historical context, and suggestions for further reading.
Journal of the Association For the Study of Australian Literature, Apr 27, 2014
Smith, and James Tulip. Malouf was present throughout and joined Ivor Indyk (Whitlam Professor in... more Smith, and James Tulip. Malouf was present throughout and joined Ivor Indyk (Whitlam Professor in the Writing and Society Research Centre, University of Western Sydney) and the audience for a closing conversation on matters raised during the day. i Ivor Indyk [Reflecting on all that he has heard at the conference but also on the visual images of David projected on the screen.] I am beset by a proliferation of images of David, not only behind me, but in front of me as well. And in a way that's appropriate because for the last six or seven hours we've spoken about David Malouf, but apart from his reading he hasn't spoken himself. Indeed it is quite transgressive to have the subject of academic, of critical, discourse in the same place as the discourse itself, and that is my first question, to ask David really whether he felt he had to rescue himself from our conversations about him, whether he recognised himself in that conversation, or whether he thought there were things that had been missed altogether? David Malouf Well, yes, it is a strange business to be a writer listening to talk about his writing, because that's not often how it happens. And one of the things that's odd about it is that in some ways the person who has done the writing always seems to me to be a quite different person from the person who walks and talks, and that person is fairly distant from me. One of the strange things is that you have to believe, if you are a writer, that a great deal of what gets into the writing, and a great deal of the writing as it gets done, is being done by somebody who is not quite the conscious you. So you feel protected, in a way. You end up finishing a book and letting it go, and mostly you never read the book again. So you know I am listening this morning and this afternoon to people talking about books and I keep thinking 'Oh yes, I remember that happened in that book.' I know the books much less well than some of the people here. You feel distanced from the book. So for you as a writer the book's out there. If people are talking about it they're not quite talking about you. They're talking about something that exists because it was done by a person that you've now lost touch with in many ways. You know 30 years ago, 40 years ago, 50 years ago. Or they're talking about something that was produced by somebody who, as I say, doesn't seem to be you and is mysterious to you. I was grateful hearing today how often people took it for granted that the writing is not autobiographical, not directly about the person who's done the writing. That seemed to me to be accepted in quite a sophisticated way by most people. That was very gratifying. There was no attempt to shoot home to me-the person sitting there-total responsibility for being the person who was saying 'I' and saying 'this is what happened.' Because one of the things you realise once you start writing is that no matter how close you try to stay to the truth of what happened you will always be led astray, because what you need to write-if it's going to be interesting-is going to be changed, in terms of making a better story than what really happened. You're always aware that half of what you write as autobiographical is lies, because it's more attractive that way. So I felt distanced from all of that. There's a phrase in that last poem I read 'At Lerici':
If you're looking for an example of how a classic literary text can speak to the present, you... more If you're looking for an example of how a classic literary text can speak to the present, you could hardly do better than Clancy of the Overflow. Banjo Paterson's poem of a century ago caught some Australian attitudes that are with us still. A sweet moment of the later Howard years, during the Australian Wheat Board scandal, came with the email circulation of an apt parody, Howard of the Overflow, penned I believe by a Canberra insider. It begins: I had written him a letter, which I had, for want of better Knowledge, sent to where I met him at the Wheat Board, years ago. He was chairman when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him Just on spec, to make the point that 'Howard doesn't want to know'. That letter, unanswered or never received; the clumsy goings on in far-off lands; the great public unknowing, through perfected bureaucratic arts of the swamp (now known as wetlands) and sinkhole (review, inquiry, commission) the old poem allows for it all in its wistful option of riding off into a neverland where accountability is left behind. The lone male drover survives as a fantasy of settler mythology, the one who doesn't settle, the man on a journey to a void beyond communication and constraint. But for me the poem also comes to mind whenever I reflect on Australia's attempts to engage in cultural dialogue with the outside world
Translation is a mystery, ambiguously both service and craft. We put our faith in it, as we put o... more Translation is a mystery, ambiguously both service and craft. We put our faith in it, as we put our faith in diplomacy. While translators go about their work with invisible care, discussion of translation highlights the risks. Jokes about translation gone wrong plug the odd spots of newspapers and magazines. After Babel, we readily believe that all translation is mistranslation, at best a sign of damaged communication between human beings. A gulf opens between translation in practice and in theory.
The iron-bearing stones that grow from cast, gilded heads in Ah Xian s latest works have been nam... more The iron-bearing stones that grow from cast, gilded heads in Ah Xian s latest works have been named Xuan Yuan by China s View Stone Association, for the mountain outside Beijing from where they were carried out in baskets on the backs of local farmers, valued not for their mineral content but as collectibles, given the age-old Chinese love of strange stones. Here they appear as one with human figures, but not quite. Like heavy, angular thought bubbles, these protruberant stones unsettle the viewer with a reminder that the oneness of humankind and nature is so often a state of precarious balance.
Roger Jose had lived in Borroloola in an upside-down water tank with his Aboriginal wife Maggie f... more Roger Jose had lived in Borroloola in an upside-down water tank with his Aboriginal wife Maggie for most of the twentieth century. An eccentric, a hermit, a bushman, a bush philosopher and the last custodian of the famous Borroloola Library before it was eaten by termites, he practised reconciliation long before the idea was tossed around as a political football. In this highly original book, novelist Nicholas Jose mixes biography, history, travel and politics to enter the world of Roger Jose. Could he be the mystery relative, the black sheep that the family never speaks of? Jose's journey takes him to Borroloola, located on the Gulf of Carpentaria, Australia's northernmost shore and on the routes of navigation between East and West. A place where white men lived like blackfellas, and where Aboriginal culture remained strong enough to extend its power into present-day politics. Black Sheep tells Roger Jose's story, and chronicles other meetings across the Gulf Country. J...
Every picture tells a story. Sometimes what happens around a picture can be as telling as the pic... more Every picture tells a story. Sometimes what happens around a picture can be as telling as the picture itself. Without having to change in any way, the picture finds itself in such interesting times that its meaning and value alter. That is what happened to some art works seen for the first time in an exhibition in Beijing in February 1989. Let me tell you their story, through to the present, now that the Chinese art market has become red‐hot. It's an intriguing illustration of anomalies and adjustments across the board in China's unparalleled social transformation.
The first time I visited the exhibition of the Italian artist Giorgio Morandi at the Art Gallery ... more The first time I visited the exhibition of the Italian artist Giorgio Morandi at the Art Gallery of New South Wales I found myself almost alone. Having come straight from a busy meeting, I was easily transported, as I gazed at those serene and silent paintings and prints in those serene and silent gallery spaces, into a state of rapture and recognition. I was entering somewhere I had been before, finding it unchanged, which meant it would still be unchanged in future, and yet finding it still a place I wanted to be. There is something almost time-stopping about that.
The result of a collaboration between Sydney's Macquarie University and International PEN Syd... more The result of a collaboration between Sydney's Macquarie University and International PEN Sydney Centre, and funded by the Australia Council for the Arts and the Australian Research Council, 'The Literature of Australia' gathers the most distinctive and most significant of the nation's writing. Coverage of over two hundred years of literature in all genres, from the 1700s to the present, and over 500 entries from 307 different authors, including writing by Aboriginal authors from the early colonial period to the present. Work from contemporary authors of international renown, including Shirley Hazzard, Peter Carey, David Malouf, Les Murray, Alexis Wright, and Kate Grenville. Biographical details about the authors of the works selected, an introductory essay, major essays setting the works in their historical context, and suggestions for further reading.
Journal of the Association For the Study of Australian Literature, Apr 27, 2014
Smith, and James Tulip. Malouf was present throughout and joined Ivor Indyk (Whitlam Professor in... more Smith, and James Tulip. Malouf was present throughout and joined Ivor Indyk (Whitlam Professor in the Writing and Society Research Centre, University of Western Sydney) and the audience for a closing conversation on matters raised during the day. i Ivor Indyk [Reflecting on all that he has heard at the conference but also on the visual images of David projected on the screen.] I am beset by a proliferation of images of David, not only behind me, but in front of me as well. And in a way that's appropriate because for the last six or seven hours we've spoken about David Malouf, but apart from his reading he hasn't spoken himself. Indeed it is quite transgressive to have the subject of academic, of critical, discourse in the same place as the discourse itself, and that is my first question, to ask David really whether he felt he had to rescue himself from our conversations about him, whether he recognised himself in that conversation, or whether he thought there were things that had been missed altogether? David Malouf Well, yes, it is a strange business to be a writer listening to talk about his writing, because that's not often how it happens. And one of the things that's odd about it is that in some ways the person who has done the writing always seems to me to be a quite different person from the person who walks and talks, and that person is fairly distant from me. One of the strange things is that you have to believe, if you are a writer, that a great deal of what gets into the writing, and a great deal of the writing as it gets done, is being done by somebody who is not quite the conscious you. So you feel protected, in a way. You end up finishing a book and letting it go, and mostly you never read the book again. So you know I am listening this morning and this afternoon to people talking about books and I keep thinking 'Oh yes, I remember that happened in that book.' I know the books much less well than some of the people here. You feel distanced from the book. So for you as a writer the book's out there. If people are talking about it they're not quite talking about you. They're talking about something that exists because it was done by a person that you've now lost touch with in many ways. You know 30 years ago, 40 years ago, 50 years ago. Or they're talking about something that was produced by somebody who, as I say, doesn't seem to be you and is mysterious to you. I was grateful hearing today how often people took it for granted that the writing is not autobiographical, not directly about the person who's done the writing. That seemed to me to be accepted in quite a sophisticated way by most people. That was very gratifying. There was no attempt to shoot home to me-the person sitting there-total responsibility for being the person who was saying 'I' and saying 'this is what happened.' Because one of the things you realise once you start writing is that no matter how close you try to stay to the truth of what happened you will always be led astray, because what you need to write-if it's going to be interesting-is going to be changed, in terms of making a better story than what really happened. You're always aware that half of what you write as autobiographical is lies, because it's more attractive that way. So I felt distanced from all of that. There's a phrase in that last poem I read 'At Lerici':
Review essay of Last Words from Montmartre by Qiu Miaojin (1969-95), translated into English by A... more Review essay of Last Words from Montmartre by Qiu Miaojin (1969-95), translated into English by Ari Larissa Heinrich, and Notes of a Crocodile by Qiu Miaojin, translated into English by Bonnie Huie (both published by New York Review Books, 2014 and 2017 respectively). On the occasion of the work of this extraordinary and iconic writer being made widely available in English, the essay assesses and celebrates her contribution to Taiwanese, Chinese and international writing in her lifetime and beyond.
Magnificent Obsessions: Honouring the Lives of Hazel Rowley, 2013
Some of the best things in Australian fiction emerge from New Mexico. D. H. Lawrence finished Kan... more Some of the best things in Australian fiction emerge from New Mexico. D. H. Lawrence finished Kangaroo in Taos in 1922, and Christina Stead finished For Love Alone in Santa Fe twenty years later. The last part of The Aunt's Story takes place there, inspired by Patrick White's visit in 1939. Randolph Stow wrote The Merry-go-round in the Sea in Aztec NM in 1964. New Mexico was an older, different version of the New World. Did the visitors sense affinities between what they knew of Australia and what they found there? Did something about New Mexico encourage a grander, more imaginative expression of Australia and self?
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