Sensation and survival: The Forrests by Emily Perkins

Bloomsbury, May 2012
9781408809235 
(buy paperback, ebook)

A version of this review first appeared in Bookseller+Publisher, April/May 2012

Dorothy Forrest is seven years old when the Forrests move from New York, with dwindling money, to New Zealand. At the opening of the novel, Frank, the father, is capturing his children on a movie camera, trying to make them participate in a special effect. The children run off in different directions, bored of their father’s instructions. But a fragment, a celluloid memory, is captured, and as the novel skips forward in time with each chapter, the past—and the figures in it—hover at the edges of Dorothy’s life.

Emily Perkins, acclaimed author of Novel About My Wife (among others), chronicles a person’s life with depth, poignancy and passion. She manages to find the right, often surprising, words to describe the sensation of being in the world, both in the moment and over time. She never resorts to cliché. Often Dorothy exists both in the past—with her first love and family friend, Daniel, or with her beloved sister Eve—and in the present. She is bemused at how quickly time passes; in later chapters she fails to recognise her own reflection. The novel is, overall, a metaphor for this, with an entire life nestled between the front and back cover. It reflects the deep sadness of time passing, but also the potent joy of ‘the little things’—sensations—of which Dorothy reminds herself and is grateful. Dorothy is perpetually surprised by who she seems to be, and where she has ended up, through choice and through life’s inevitable turns.

The Forrests is partly about survival, not just how we survive the often difficult and tragic events in our lives, but how we survive each other: our parents, our lovers, our children. It’s also about how we survive ourselves; how we deal with remnants of the past that remain with us, and how we deal with new fears that crop up and change us. How, too, do we deal with getting older? At one point Dorothy’s brother mentions their family friend and her first love: ‘Flickered with adrenaline, caught out as always at the mention of his name, [Dorothy] told Mike that last she heard he’d gotten married. Adulthood was like this—your voice calm, your face normal, while inside white turmoil squirted, your heart still seven, or twelve, or fifteen.’

The Forrests is a work of art as well as a successful narrative. It is nuanced, compelling, and a treat for the mind, senses and emotions.

I’ll be publishing an interview with NZ author Emily Perkins, on The Forrests, soon. 

20 classics #12: Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen

I’m reading 20 classic, modern-classic or cult books. Read more about this project here. See the other classics here.

Why did I want to read it?

I’d only read Emma and Pride and Prejudice of Austen’s novels, and when I heard that Northanger Abbey was a sort of satire of the gothic novel, I was intrigued. I also visited Bath last year, where much of the novel is set.

When was it published?

Northanger Abbey was first published in 1818, posthumously, though it was one of the first novels Austen completed. My edition is the 2003 Penguin Classic with an informative introduction by Marilyn Butler. There are many editions available.

What’s it about?

‘Our heroine’ (referred to as such by the author within the novel) is Catherine Morland. She is young, impressionable, and experiencing Bath, and fashionable society, for the first time. There’s a sort of rivalry for her friendship and love between two new sets of acquaintances, the Thorpes and the Tilneys. The novel is also a very early example of metafiction, where the author is present and the characters have conversations about reading, the worth of a novel, fiction versus nonfiction/history, women writers, and more. The plot and events are also (seemingly fondly) parodic of both Gothic novels and ‘novels of sensibility’.

Tell us more about the author.

Jane Austen was born at Steventon on 16 December 1775. Her family moved to Bath when her father retired in 1801. When he died in 1805, she moved around with her mother. I learnt, when I visited the Jane Austen Centre in Bath, that after her father died her family had quite a difficult time, financially. She certainly got to see Bath and its ‘fashionable society’ from different points of view, and she was more productive living quietly at the family home before and after Bath (at Chawton). She received a marriage proposal while there, and accepted (one can assume, thinking of her family) but the next day withdrew her acceptance. She wrote to her niece, Fanny White: ‘Anything is to be preferred or endured rather than marrying without Affection’. It is believed much of Austen’s genuine feelings on this subject are due to the true-love relationship of her parents. There is so much more to say about her, but I’ll keep this brief (see this blog for all the info you could ever need on Jane Austen). She is undeniably one of the warmest, cleverest writers who ever lived, and was modest about her own genius. She died at the age of 41 on 18 July 1817.

So, what did I think? Does it deserve to be a classic?

Northanger Abbey is generally considered to be Austen’s most ‘light-hearted’ novel, and the characters certainly don’t stick in your mind as much as, say, Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy. However, Catherine Morley’s innocence (and almost transparence) is a deliberate method on the part of the author—Catherine is both a parodic character and a vehicle for the reader. The reader is also stumbling, wide-eyed, into this strange and undeniably shallow world (Mrs Allen, with whom Catherine stays, is obsessed with clothing, fashions and second-hand remarks). But the reader is also allowed distance by the intrusive, authorial voice. In one of my favourite parts, Catherine allows herself to be whipped into a kind of grotesque fancy by Henry Tilney’s comparisons of Northanger Abey to the settings of Gothic novels. She then spends a sleepless night wondering what could possibly be in the locked drawer of the cabinet! The reader (permitted ironic distance) knows it will be something ordinary, but we still can’t help but wonder.

Though it may be more ‘light-hearted’ than other novels by Austen, Northanger Abbey’s intellectual engagements and layers of meaning (and humour) are hugely impressive. I’ve read modern metafictional novels like John Fowles’ The French Lieutenant’s Woman and Italo Calvino’s If On A Winters Night a Traveller and I didn’t realise Austen had beat them by about 150 years, winking to her readers. She even acknowledges (and rallies with) her fellow writers of novels, encouraging them to create heroines who read novels (the layers!):

Alas! if the heroine of one novel be not patronised by the heroine of another, from whom can she expect protection and regard? I cannot approve of it. Let us leave it to the Reviewers to abuse such effusions of fancy at their leisure [turn over a novel’s insipid pages with disgust], and over every new novel to talk in threadbare strains of the trash with which the press now groans. Let us not desert one another; we are an injured body.

Catherine and Henry Tilney have a sparring relationship throughout the book. They debate the merits of fiction versus nonfiction/history, and have an exchange about women’s writing which cleverly inverts an idea and reveals Austen’s feelings on equality (we know she contradicts this in some ways, in her work, but I see her as being both within and ahead of her time). The exchange is as follows:

Catherine tells Tilney that she does not keep a journal and he thinks she must be lying. He says (among other things): ‘How are your various dresses to be remembered, and the particular state of your complexion, and curl of your hair to be described in all their diversities, without having constant recourse to a journal?—My dear madam, I am not so ignorant of young ladies’ ways as you wish to believe me; it is this delightful habit of journalising which largely contributes to form the easy style of writing for which ladies are so generally celebrated. Every body allows that the talent of writing agreeable letters is peculiarly female…’ He goes on a little. Catherine baulks. She says: ‘I have sometimes thought… whether ladies do write so much better letters than gentlemen! That is—I should not think the superiority was always on our side’. Very wry. The superiority is no doubt not always on the side of one sex or another in other matters, too.

But it is still this bullying fellow that Catherine begins to fall for. Maybe it shows that her character isn’t really so impressionable, that she enjoys a little intellectual sparring (and will grow to enjoy it more—the reader, as the reader of novels, often would side with her in these debates). Maybe she is more imaginative than impressionable, though the extent of what she imagines possible does result in her putting her foot in her mouth at one point…

Northanger Abbey’s cleverness impressed and delighted me at times, but the overall story is a little disjointed, and I was a bit underwhelmed at the end. I think the romantic hero is much less memorable than, say, Mr Darcy (*cough*). But there aren’t many endings that satisfy (on a specific level) as that of Pride and Prejudice. That said, it’s actually not one of my favourite books. That was another reason for trying Austen again. Emma is the best of hers I’ve read, and though everything about Austen and her work can be appreciated—she was undeniably ahead of her time, intelligent, genuine, clever—on some level my personal tastes swing more towards the (admittedly, often flowery) dramatic and romantic Gothics…

What’s next?

Perhaps, on that note, I should read a Bronte next, or Hardy’s Tess of the D’ubervilles? I’m also slowly making my way through Hemingway’s To Whom the Bell Tolls.

Fragments from the Sydney Writers’ Festival 2012

‘As a writer, what you leave out says as much as what you put in.’—Jeanette Winterson

—

Lying in the hotel room—white walls, painted beams and sheets—feeling sick with nerves, scribbling questions in the margins of questions.

Jeanette Winterson, so far away from me in the Opera House that I cannot make out her face. But such a presence, confident, stalking the stage. ‘If you think about art as a luxury’, she says, ‘then being human is a luxury.’ She makes a direct appeal to the importance of our ‘inner lives’ in her talk on art, literature, love and (that still useful word, she says) the soul. When she talks of the life of the mind, the heart, and of the importance of connection, she doesn’t come across as earnest. And this is partly because she is so hilarious.

LOL. Charlotte, Chris & Paddy.

On Thursday I chair a panel on humour in fiction. The authors’ books, the characters’ voices, are so different, but a general consensus from the panel is that humour is not only one of the best ways to convey serious ideas, but that humour (for them as readers) is essential. Basically, for the text to not take itself too seriously, to be aware of its place in the larger scheme of (absurd) existence.

Jeanette Winterson has the audience in stitches talking about the ‘banana beagle’ who meets her at Sydney airport. She was once caught with a banana skin, but the banana itself was already digesting.

She relates this to her talk by encouraging us to access our inner banana.

My banana sometimes pokes out of my mouth. I try to restrain the banana, when appropriate. I let the banana loose with my friends, especially on Saturday, over a trout fishcake at Fratelli Fresh, a walk around the harbour, some drinks on Pier 2/3. At other times the banana settles deep in my gut, unsure of itself. With someone who sees restraint as a virtue, my banana attempts coolness, patience.

‘I don’t think books make a home, they are a home,’ says Winterson. In the hotel bed I dream of a home that is cavernous, like the Opera House, but made of bricks. I cannot make out the detail on the roof. There is a small yard, so we can finally get a dog. This is the happiest thought. There’s no proper bathroom, but a lime-coloured curtain pulls around some tiles. The toilet is next to our bed. There are other people in the house so I know this will pose a problem. I’m a light sleeper after all.

Excavations under the YHA. Time travel.

On Thursday and Friday night I stay at the YHA. I barely sleep. My roommates are from Boston. I feel happy that they have such nice weather. There is so much noise in the hostel. I wash my own dishes in the morning and try not to think of the luxury of the hotel. As my family friend said, ‘you are young.’ I have a lot of YHAs to go.

My family friends take me to Doyle’s. I’ve just read a passage in a Jessica Anderson book about lobsters screaming. Nonetheless, I get the ‘ship to shore’, the steak cooked medium. I need the iron. There is a view. Martinis and the past, the future. But ‘the now’ is much more present on the table. The taste of the food, the warmth of stories shared.

I drag them to The Clock afterwards, and I stay on until 12:25. This artwork compels me for so many reasons, and thinking about it and figuring out those reasons feels like a worthwhile use of time. I love films, and the guessing game makes you stay on, like staying up watching Rage. Time as a construct. Time as inevitable. Time as shared (but experienced differently for each of us). Moments of time as intertextual (we recall memories, and cultural memories, constantly, relating them to the now). Time as stretching out or closing in. Time full of people. Wanting to ‘pass time’ or hold onto it. ‘Our inner lives don’t work according to the clock or the calendar’, Winterson says. Remembering. Forgetting.

Waiting.

Close to midnight.

Waiting in that hotel room for Thursday, when I can get all my work done. Swinging between excitement and dread. Knowing it will all go well, because I am prepared, but also not knowing. Winterson talks that night about the fact that there is no certainty, and so, we build ourselves. Art helps us be ready. Good art supports us, but does not supplant us.

‘When we don’t have time, that’s the most tragic thing of all, because time is all we have,’ she says.

What is a worthwhile pursuit, then? Art, definitely, but talking and writing about art? It’s still a form of connection, a meeting of bananas. I go and see a panel on ‘friends reviewing friends’. Gideon Haigh says that when he reads the review pages he wants to get an overall sense of the culture and where it is going. The general reader might partly want this, but they also just want to know if there are any books out that they might enjoy. That might engage with their inner selves. That might ‘prepare’ them. Kerryn Goldsworthy says even the shorter reviews can do this. There’s an art to them. I think Haigh’s opinion is important, and perhaps it’s about balance. But the kind of criticism he’s talking about, I believe, is very difficult to do without giving away the ending of a book. At least, that’s what I’ve found, in my limited experience. In-depth criticism is stimulating (and necessary) but I do think the literary editors know that the main audience for their pages is a general one who wants to know whether or not a book is for them.

When in Sydney.

That said, his point that reviews could also be better written, more engaging in themselves, is a very good one. Any reviewer should aim to write a review that is stimulating and clear, maybe even clever. The panel also made a good point about editors often giving a review to the first person who offers, instead of thinking about who the best person will be for the job. It may be true sometimes, and for some literary editors. But they are also extremely busy people (with budgets and pages being cut and a gazillion books piling up).

The main points of the panel, though, were that, yes, friends shouldn’t review friends (and it’s up to the reviewer to be ethical about this, as the ed. may not be able to keep track), and enemies also should not review enemies. Though it’s not always so black and white, is it? When Goldsworthy edited ABR she did keep a long list (covered in white-out) of literary trysts, friendships, fallings-out and so on. ‘It seemed important, and seemed to be my job.’

Jeanette Winterson says, if you’re troubled, recite poetry to yourself in the mirror.

Tick. Tock.

I go to a panel on Australian classics. Yes, the Text Classics are wonderful, bringing out-of-print books (‘classics’, Michael Heyward says, is a label used provocatively, the debate is what’s important) to old and new audiences. Other publishers have Australian classics ranges, too, ie. Sydney Uni Press, Fremantle Press, and Allen and Unwin (forthcoming). There seems a bit of a divide between the panel and the audience in this one (except everyone loves Thomas Keneally, all the time, because, how can you not?) when people start to stand up and defend the literature departments of certain universities. They have learnt Aus lit, and even women writers. Admittedly, though, in another time. One audience member seems a bit frustrated by the debate and just wants to walk away with a good list of books to follow up.

Like that other panel, there’s a divide between the literary and critical ‘culture’, and the everyday reader who just wants to be pointed in the right direction, among all the noise.

Another ‘classic’.

At the Picador party I have a conversation with the Pan Macmillan managing director. Of course, he understands this perfectly. Without their Matthew Reillys and Di Morriseys, do you think they could publish many debut authors, or more ‘literary’ works? (Though the definition of ‘literary’ itself befuddles many readers, and writers.) I think if our personal and intellectual preference is for literary fiction, we might still appreciate the role commercial books play in our literary landscape. It’s not just a financial role, many of these books get people reading, and I don’t think I’m being too optimistic when I say that many readers will go on to read other books. I was a bookseller in a regional town for four years, and I know first-hand this is true. Some readers, yes, will only buy the Bryce Courtenay every Christmas (still, supporting that publisher so they can publish other works). But some will come in (or look at blogs, or whatever) and ask: what else is like this? What has this setting? Are there other books with characters like this? Booksellers, reviewers, bloggers—we can point readers toward books that will be a worthwhile, rewarding use of their time.

Because of commercially successful books, someone like the editor I speak to at the Picador party, who loves ‘depressing books’ (oh, me too) has a job. Has a wonderful job and does a wonderful job.

Kate rec(it)ed a poem with ‘it’ in every word.

(On a contradictory note, there are small publishers like Giramondo, who are proudly ‘literary’ and who publish books other publishers may not touch, who don’t operate on this kind of model and are successful—and support their authors—in other ways.)

Over the festival I meet so many new people (many known from years of social media contact).

I also accidentally meet a couple of people, like Elliott Perlman, asking for directions. And I spend a quiet, awkward few minutes alone in the green room with the Hon Michael Kirby AC CMG, whose life I don’t know enough about to ask any good questions.

Then there is the sun. But everything written about the beauty of sunshine (especially on the water) is a cliché. It is warm. It makes me very happy. I want more of it.

Eating ice cream with a spoon in the sun might be one of the most worthwhile uses of time.

Shortlist for Kibble and Dobbie Literary Awards announced

Need a recommendation for more great books by Australian women? Well the shortlists for the Kibble and Dobbie awards have just been announced. The Kibble Literary Award ($30,000) recognises the work of an established Australian female writer, and the Dobbie Award ($5000) is for the first published work of an Australian female writer.

The shortlists for the two awards are as follows:

Kibble

Five Bells by Gail Jones
(paperback available)

Foal’s Bread by Gillian Mears
(paperback + ebook available)

Animal People by Charlotte Wood
(paperback + ebook available)

Dobbie

End of the Night Girl by Amy T Matthews
(paperback + ebook available)

Past the Shallows by Favel Parrett
(paperback and ebook available)

Bearings by Leah Swann
(paperback available)

The awards will be announced on 25 July. I’ll be at a conference then but I’ll try to put the news up as soon as possible. I’ve read the three novels in the Kibble shortlist, but surprisingly (as I feel like I read a lot of debut fiction) not the ones in the Dobbie shortlist. My pick for the Kibble is probably Foal’s Bread (also shortlised for the Miles Franklin). Though, honestly, it’s terribly difficult to say. Wood and Jones are two of my favourite authors and I’d be happy to see any of the shortlisted authors receive this honour. How about you? Have you reviewed any of the debut novels? Feel free to link to your reviews in the comments. Of course, Favel Parrett’s Past the Shallows is also shortlisted for the Miles Franklin Literary Award. She’s having an amazing year! I think Past the Shallows will have to be the next book I buy.

Here’s some more info about the award, from Perpetual (who manage it):

Nita Dobbie established the Kibble Literary Awards for Women Writers in recognition of her aunt, Nita Kibble, who raised her from birth after her mother died.

In the late 1800s, Miss Kibble had successfully answered an advertisement for a junior assistant at the Public Library of New South Wales, when her signature was taken for a man’s. She later became the first woman to be appointed a librarian with the State Library of New South Wales and held the position of Principal Research Officer from 1919 until her retirement. Throughout her career she worked hard to raise the status of the library profession and was a founding member of the Australian Institute of Librarians.

Miss Dobbie followed her aunt into the library profession and recognised the need to foster women’s writing in the community and so established the Awards, named after her inspirational aunt, through her will.

Congratulations to all the shortlisted authors. You can read more about the awards here.

Recently read: The Fine Colour of Rust by PA O’Reilly & What the Family Needed by Steven Amsterdam

I’m fairly time-poor at the moment, but I wanted to at least make a small note about a couple of books I’ve read lately in preparation for the Sydney Writers’ Festival next week!

The Fine Colour of Rust, PA O’Reilly, Blue Door, 9780007434930, March 2012 (buy paperback, ebook)

I’m a big fan of Paddy O’Reilly’s short story collection The End of the World and I’d been told to expect something quite different with this novel—more commercial, I guess, though we all get a bit confused about these distinctions sometimes. The Fine Colour of Rust is a bright and funny story of a teeny country town called Gunapan and its big-hearted and bold resident Loretta Boskovic. Loretta is a single mum (like many of the women in Gunapan) and she’s a perfect mix of hard-edged and dreamy. She may go off into fantasies about men in BMWs whisking her off (away from the kids), but when it comes down to it, Loretta will fight the fight that no one else dares or cares to. She’s thoroughly human, she cares about what others say about her and her kids, but she also doesn’t let it get to her for long. She’s both tough and tender, and she’s hilarious. I did some serious LOLing while reading this book. There are other memorable characters, like Norm, who runs a metal scrapyard and knows everything that’s going on in town; and a pair of goats that soften Loretta’s difficult daughter Melissa. This is a warm and affirming book that doesn’t exactly go in the directions you may expect. Loretta is allowed to remain complex.

I’ll be chairing the panels ‘Not Funny Strange‘ with PA O’Reilly, Charlotte Wood and Chris Flynn (free) and ‘Rural Romping‘ with PA O’Reilly and Carrie Tiffany (ticketed) on Thursday 17 May at Sydney Writers’ Festival.

What the Family Needed, Steven Amsterdam, Sleepers, 9781742702117 (buy paperback, ebook)

Stuffed if I know why it’s taken me so long to get to this, given how big a fan I am of Amsterdam’s writing. This book is entirely different from Things We Didn’t See Coming but there’s something of a similar subtle heart-wrenchingness. The poignancy really sneaks up on you. On the surface it seems like a book about a bunch of related characters who are each granted a special power—invisibility, flying, super-strength—but there are layers of meaning beneath. Characters grow up and grow old, deal with desires and impulses, distances, and losses. ‘They were all separate, scattering like planets without even asking each other if it was okay.’ There are consequences to their choices and to their powers. The way some characters connect and understand each other, and others don’t, is also deftly handled. Amsterdam’s prose is clean and fresh, loaded with subtext. This book could be read really differently, too, by a rationalist or a fantasist. It reminded me a little of Joe Meno, the American writer; the combination of ordinariness (and children, and family) and strangeness or other-worldliness. There is space for the unknown and unexplainable, from Giordana not knowing why Janelle would be attracted to her brother, to why or how Ben can fly. This is a strongly empathetic book, and a book of wonder.

I’ll be chairing the panel ‘The Second Time‘ with Steven Amsterdam, Kirsten Tranter and Deborah Forster (free) on Thursday 17 May at Sydney Writers’ Festival.

ANZ LitLovers LitBlog wins ‘words’ category in 2012 Best Australian Blogs comp

The winners of the 2012 Sydney Writers’ Centre Best Australian Blogs competition have been announced.

Once again this year I was the judge of the ‘words’ category. I also helped to choose the overall winner.

The winner of the ‘words’ category is, happily, Lisa Hill’s ANZ LitLovers LitBlog. If you’ve been reading Australian lit blogs for a while, no doubt you would have come across it. I told the Centre:

This blog has a clear focus and is an easily accessible wealth of information, with a healthy community aspect. It’s the perfect mix between informal and informative, and Hill’s incredible commitment, dedication and passion for her subject—Australian and New Zealand literature—is to be admired.

The other finalist blogs in the ‘words’ category were:

Wade Bowmer’s Just Add Story: a blog of humble, clear, fresh and insightful musings on writing. Bowmer is a fantasy writer and programmer but his insights are valuable to any writer (emerging or otherwise).

Tara Moss’ The Book Post: Moss is a passionate lover of books, reading and literary culture, and she doesn’t shy away from public debate on important issues. Topics range from writing, feminism, Australian literature, and genre fiction to Moss’ esoteric interests—which all cohere through her unique voice. This is an entertaining, informative and engaging blog.

Katy McDevitt’s PublishEd Adelaide: a practical, focused and friendly blog about editing and life as an editor. McDevitt has a way of writing about editing that feels both fresh and original, and entirely commonsensical. She shares great, realistic ideas.

The multi-authored Killings: Kill Your Darlings blog: a great blog covering a range of cultural topics, via a range of voices. It looks fantastic and is updated frequently. It’s a smart lifestyle blog that perfectly complements the Kill Your Darlings magazine.

Last year’s wordy category winner was Bothersome Words.

A huge congratulations to all, and thanks so much to the Sydney Writers’ Centre for asking me to judge such a fun competition.

LiteraryMinded’s fifth blog anniversary spectacular! (part five)

Terri-ann White asks: ‘How often does a new writer blow your mind? Can this still happen when you are doing it as a full-on venture?’

Often it’s not a new writer but someone who is new to me. For example, I was just blown away by The Forrests by Emily Perkins, and now I want to read all of her books. I read a lot of very, very good books, but I’m only ‘blown away’ by the odd one. But yes, though I read and write all day long, I’m not cynical about it yet! I think it helps that I have other cultural interests, ie. film. And I get out to the gym every other day to help clear the cobwebs.

Lia C asks: ‘what is your LEAST favourite (I won’t say worst, though that was my first inclination) book you’ve read in this five years, and why?’

Well, there are many I just didn’t bother finishing. Of the ones I finished I think Brendan Cowell’s How it Feels annoyed me the most. I also disliked The Meowmorphosis—a book that had so much potential as an absurd parody.

Lia C also asks: ‘Let’s talk about the sky. At what time of day is the sky the most beautiful to you?’

Dusk. Definitely. At dawn I’m too busy having nightmares. At dusk, the sky turns peach and apricot, the temperature dips, you pour a glass of wine… The other day, actually, my tram broke down and I had a 20 minute walk into the Melbourne CBD during sunset. Being autumn, too, the leaves were falling. It was spectacular.

Dallas Angguish asks: ‘In ten years time, where do you see yourself? Describe, using as many adjectives as possible (minimum 20).’

I’m in an ancient, mossy stone hut in the Scottish Highlands, sipping golden drams of single malt, tapping out a colourful novel. My fubsy Jack Russell terrier excitedly awaits his dinner. My flushed children and sweet partner are snoozing by the fire, weary from their adventures. Soon we’ll gather for a colossal feast of jolly, stinky cheeses and glossy fruits. Tomorrow we’ll visit cavernous and quiet castles.

(I don’t know if I reached 20 but in a rush now!)

Lily Mae Martin asks: ‘What’s in store for LiteraryMinded?’

More of the same but as I mentioned in the last post (I think?) more videos, and hopefully a change of pace with a move overseas or more publications!

Clementine Ford asks: ‘What’s the most wonderful trivia nugget you know about an author, living or dead?’ and ‘What is one literary quote you love to share with people?’

I like that TS Eliot went around as ‘the Captain’ and would tint his face green ‘to look cadaverous’ (see more here). I also think it’s hilarious that James Joyce was obsessed with farts.

Literary quotes… Everything Oscar Wilde ever wrote. And this one from Albert Camus: ‘Nobody realises that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal – Albert Camus’. There are some gems in Kafka’s diaries, too.

And from Virginia Woolf’s ‘Portraits’:

‘But then I’m one of those people who wants beauty, if it’s only a stone, or a pot – I can’t explain.’

toothsoup asks: During all those years, what was/were your:
1. Favourite event(s)?

Getting a fellowship to stay at Varuna for a week in 2008 would definitely be up there. Seeing Michael Cunningham (who I adore) in Sydney, Melbourne and London is also up there. And one of the best panels I ever chaired was this one on magic at the Byron Bay Writers’ Festival with Kim Falconer and Maria Van Daalen. It was so lovely.

2. Most awesome material possession accumulated?

I don’t buy much outside cultural items (books, DVDs). You should see the state of our couch, pillows, etc. Would rather save money for travel than replace those things! But I do have this blue dress from Frocks and Slacks in St Kilda, a 1970s version of a 1940s dress. Polyester. It’s pretty and comfortable and I always get complimented on it. I love it:

There’s also the silver necklace G bought me in New York, moulded from snake vertebrae, and the art deco (well, ’80s revival deco) ring I bought myself in an antique shop in Windsor, near the Queen’s house.

3. Most lol-worthy interview?

Probably the one filmed on the weekend. You’ll see why, soon…

4. Books that you just couldn’t put down?

The Harry Potter series! Started reading it when I was 16. Lately: A Tiger in Eden by Chris Flynn, A Common Loss by Kirsten Tranter and Sweet Old World by Deborah Robertson were all very hard to put down.

5. Books that you just couldn’t finish?

I tried Crime and Punishment when I was about 18 and didn’t finish it. I’d like to try again. I still haven’t finished Ulysses, though I was loving it!

Laurie Steed asks: ‘You meet you from five years ago near where those Peruvian dudes busk on Bourke Street, but it’s you from five years ago. You can’t hear a thing, what with all that pan pipe action, so in the end you invite your younger self to a nondescript dumplings house in Chinatown. What advice do you pass on?’

I’d tell my younger self to keep writing, allow yourself to wallow in the hurt for a while (I was about to go through a break-up) but keep your heart open.

Jennifer Mills asks: ‘Any regrets?’

I always wanted to be one of those people who doesn’t believe in regret. I’ll keep trying at that. I do sort of regret not having the ability to see that some of my writing was bad before I sent it out. And I regret a few blog posts because they weren’t thought through, but then again, that is the nature of a blog. The problem is that people can recall them and quote you out of context! Otherwise, no regrets. So glad I moved to Melbourne.

Genevieve Tucker asks: ‘Bill Murray. Tell us what he will do next, please!’

I’m a fan of the Wes Anderson aesthetic. The Royal Tenenbaums is one of my favourite films. So much heart. Here’s what’s next for both Wes and Bill!

Bird With the Golden Seed asks: ‘Classic novel you’ve never read but have been known to nod knowingly about when it’s discussed.’

I would never!

Bird With the Golden Seed also asks: ‘Favourite line from a Bill Murray film?’

‘Back off man, I’m a scientist.’

Here’s some more.

Paige Turner asks: ‘Ultimate procrastination tool?’

Pictures of cute dogs.

Damon Young asks: ‘What’s your favourite carnal moment in a novel?’

I think that’s actually a really personal thing. I blush to think of what it is. But there’s one moment I love in Alex Miller’s Conditions of Faith where the charge of desire passes between two people (a forbidden desire) and then all you know of the ‘act’ is when her husband picks a piece of straw off her clothing afterwards. That would be one of my favourites.

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Sorry if I’ve missed anyone’s qs! Thanks all so much for playing. I’ll get to your comments and replies soon. Lit-love x

LiteraryMinded’s fifth blog anniversary spectacular! (part four)

Amy Espeseth asks: ‘Has/how has your fiction writing changed since you started LiteraryMinded?’ and John (Musings of a Literary Dilettante) asks: ‘how has reviewing books helped your own creative writing?’

Five years of regular writing—fiction and nonfiction—has made me a better writer. I hope I keep getting better. Five years of reading, close reading and reviewing, has definitely helped. All the books I read make me want to do better. Some books also help me realise my limitations, ie. I’m really no good at simile, unlike Deborah Forster or Ryan O’Neill. I also can’t write something uproariously funny, but I can write something a little absurd. Many authors have helped me pay attention to detail, to fill out characters and their worlds, to make them real. I’ve learnt that there really are no rules, either! And I’ve learnt this not just from reviewing, but from attending festivals. Every writer has a different method. There is no one way you should write a story or a book. I’m still learning about plot, drive and pace. I do think I learn something new with every book I review.

I’m near the end of the third draft of a novel manuscript and I know it’s ten times better than the last one. But will it be ‘the one’? Who knows. Short stories are much harder than they used to be. But I think that’s because I’ve been putting so much energy into the longer work. Or maybe it’s because they really are so damn hard to get right!

Amra Pajalic asks: ‘What was your most controversial post and why?
How has having a blog helped you establish yourself professionally, especially as a reviewer?’

I don’t even want to revisit controversial posts. It may be a giant flaw but I really find it difficult to deal with conflict. I’m diplomatic about it when it happens, but I’d rather avoid it altogether. What a wuss! Most of the controversial stuff happened when I was on Crikey. Some of the commenters could be nasty, but I think they often came via the website expecting something specific (and receiving something else—a personalised blog post). A post about the launch of a certain anthology of Australian literature and another around a certain literary prize were the most controversial.

The blog, combined with my work at Bookseller+Publisher, are the reason I am now reviewing for a wide range of media. The blog is also the reason I get invited to literary events, so yes, it has definitely helped me to establish myself professionally.

Alexandra Neill asks: ‘During the zombie apocalypse you are only allowed to bring one book (you need to carry a lot of canned goods). What book would you take with you to the end of the world?’

(Because dogs make me smile, no matter what.)

Bethanie Blanchard asks: ’Who has been the most surprising person you’ve interviewed (differing perhaps from your expectations)? What is the best piece of advice about literary blogging and / or reviewing you’ve received?’

I don’t think anyone I’ve interviewed has really surprised me, but there have been a few times when I’ve met someone and realised I’d had expectations about them that were based on nothing at all. For example, when I met critic Geordie Williamson (and I hope he giggles if he sees this) I thought he was going to be an old man. I don’t even know why, his reviews aren’t particularly ‘old’, I think I had a kind of ‘book critic’ stereotype in my head. I first met him at PWF and found that his skin was wrinkle-free, his cheeks rosy and his demeanour affable.

As for advice on reviewing, let’s turn to that young man Geordie Williamson and his excellent Pascall Prize acceptance speech on ‘open-handed criticism’.

Michelle (BooktotheFuture) asks: ‘In honour of your fifth bloggiversary—do you have a memory from when you were five years old (or around that age) that you can share with us?’

Little Robbie. A very small boy with black hair and freckles. He had more Ninja Turtles toys than me and I was jealous. He could do the moonwalk and in class he would whisper: ‘hey Angela, hey Angela’ and I’d look over and he’d have his doodle out.

Susan Wyndham asks: ‘What do you know now that you didn’t know when you started the blog?’

That the Australian literary community is so generous and welcoming. That writing is even harder than I thought. That scholarships and grants exist. That whisky has many different flavours.

Brian Purcell asks: ‘What was the second-best writers festival you’ve appeared at? (The Bellingen Readers and Writers Festival naturally being the best).’

The Ubud Writers and Readers Festival, which I’ve been to twice. Besides the stimulating panels and gorgeous setting, you get to mix with writers from all around the world at some incredible parties. The locals are lovely, the food is delicious and the booze is cheap, too. And Perth Writers Festival is one of my favourite festivals to go to in Australia. The UWA Campus is a great setting and they treat their guests very well.

mareelouise asks: ‘In all this time, is there one book that you could call your favourite?’

Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-iiiiiiit that’s hard. It depends on my mood! Right now I’m going to say Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita.

Luke Stickels asks: ‘As a hard-eyed veteran, are there any qualities to your blogging that have dropped off from when you were starting out, but that you kind of miss?’

Well, I was a lot less guarded. I was living in Coffs Harbour and didn’t really know anyone personally who read my blog. Sometimes I wish I could write some of those posts about being lonely or feeling afraid or thinking everything is f**ked-up… BUT I think I realised it’s more fruitful (for me) to channel those thoughts into fiction (and even reviews). I also realised that other people were writing about those kinds of things more articulately than I. So I guess I don’t miss it too much. But I think some readers dropped off when I became more ‘serious’ (though still, I hope at times, absurd) but others were gained. The core remains the same, the expression has changed.

Oslo Davis asks (and illustrates): ‘Where do you stand on ebooks? (Literary):

Love your work, Oslo. You know, I’ve read quite a lot of short stories as ebooks (and published some) but not novels. I think that’s mainly because, as a reader, I like to dog-ear and notate. I also read several things at once and sometimes only remember to pick them up because the books are sitting there staring at me. You don’t get that with an ereader. So I don’t mind ebooks, but I seem to still predominantly be a dead-tree media reader.

Mark Welker asks: ‘Single biggest change in your life derived from starting your blog?’

Becoming a professional book reviewer! And I love it.

Mel Campbell asks: ‘Well—ARE you the Keymaster?’

No, I am Zuul, the minion of Gozer. I am the Gatekeeper!

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Still enough qs for a part five! See you again soon…

 

LiteraryMinded’s fifth blog anniversary spectacular! (part three)

Katy McDevitt asks: ‘I’d love to know what your “big-picture” plans are for the blog—will you be blogging a book, for example?’

I don’t think I’ll ever blog a book, that only really works for established authors like Max Barry (as with his novel Machine Man.) Video content is something I’ve been wanting to do for ages and am happy to finally be doing it. The only other ‘big picture’ plan is that hopefully towards the end of next year I’ll be blogging from abroad, from another city of literature… I have no doubt the perspective will change, and the blog might become a little more personal again as I blog about the journey. Cross fingers that at some stage I’ll also be blogging about the publication process of my debut novel.

Philip Thiel asks: ‘I’d love to hear about the space/s from which you blog. Do you move around, or settle?’

At the moment I’m blogging from a cafe but that’s because our internet is down (great timing!). I mostly blog from home, though recently I’ve moved from the dining room table back to the desk in my room. You can see that desk (or at least what it looked like a while ago) in this post on Tara Moss’ blog.

shambolicliving asks: ‘What’s the biggest factor in growing your readership? Also, what has sustained your enthusiasm for blogging over the five years?’

Joining Twitter and engaging with like-minded people on there really helped my readership to grow. Social media in general keeps traffic flowing to the blog. My enthusiasm for blogging has remained pretty strong. Probably because the main theme of the blog is a subject I’m truly passionate about. When I have felt my enthusiasm for blogging waning in the past I would change something about what I was doing, eg. read something outside my comfort zone or take a few weeks off from literary events. Sometimes it has been hard to keep up when I have so much else going on, but blogging has become habitual. I just naturally work it in around my other work.

Christopher Currie asks: ‘What’s the biggest way your reading habits have changed over the five years?’

I now find it difficult to read a book without taking notes, even if I don’t plan to review it. I read a lot more Australian literature than I did at the start or just before I started. I don’t feel obliged to finish books any more, I used to read them all through to the end. There are just too many!

Paul Anderson asks: ‘Top ten emerging authors? (I know, contentious)’

I find this so hard to answer because I can only judge by authors I’ve read, and of course, there are so many emerging authors I haven’t read. Here’s ten authors that people really need to check out, though (and I’m taking ‘emerging’ as ‘having published [in the mainstream] three books or under’). I’ll also limit this to Aus/NZ authors:

Tom Cho, Ryan O’Neill, Josephine Rowe, Rachael King, Chris Womersley, Krissy Kneen, Claire Corbett, Lisa Lang, Amanda Curtin, Dominic Smith.

That leaves out so, so many. But you can’t go wrong if you check out the work of these authors! See this page on the ANZLitLovers blog (click through to reviews of debut novels) for more ideas. Or read the Review of Australian Fiction, which publishes an emerging writer in each issue.

Kirsten Krauth asks: ‘Why are you so passionate about Australian literature? And what set you off on that passion?’

There are so many great voices in Aus lit, writing in a wide variety of genres. There’s so much I haven’t gotten to yet. You should see the pile of books by women I’ve accumulated for the Australian Women Writers Reading and Reviewing Challenge! Alex Miller, Gail Jones, Charlotte Wood, Paddy O’Reilly and Robert Drewe were among the first authors who got me interested in Aus lit. And I started to read literary magazines when I was about 20 as well. One of the main reasons I got so ‘into’ Aus lit, too, is that I write fiction, and I was interested in what was being published. But I’m actually interested in literature from all around the world, I just end up reading more Aus lit because of the events and reviews that I do. I actually think there’s some phenomenal stuff coming out of New Zealand (and always has been).

Soph Langley asks: ‘How do you see the character of yourself over the course of the blog? What parts of her have changed? What has stayed the same? If she were a character in a novel, what novel would it be (one that already exists, or perhaps a type of novel)?’

I’m a bit embarrassed by the earnest, over-excitable (and oversharing) early ‘character’ of this blog. I think I am less hasty now, I give more time and consideration to my opinions and my writing (though I am still often embarrassed by it). I’ve become more patient, and I hope I’ve become more humble (besides this self-indulgent extravaganza!). A lot of people showed faith in my early writing, including an earlier manuscript, but then I had to be beaten down for a while (lots of rejection) in order to learn how to write better. I think it’s a good thing that I now expect much more rejection and time to hone my skills (albeit partly in the public eye!). Something that has stayed the same, from that early character, is the enthusiasm for literature! But I think I’m more analytical now, and less vague and touchy-feely (though there’s definitely still an element of what I ‘feel’ in the blog pieces—it’s a blog after all).

I used to think I was Joseph K., and I still understand the Kafkaesque feeling of something bearing down, of effort, but now that I’m surrounded by so many people who’ve felt something similar in their lives, I’m not that character any more. But who am I? A bit of an obsessive like Miss Havisham (and can easily get too comfortable), a bit of Jane Austen’s Emma, making plans (and mistakes), a bit cruel like Humbert Humbert, a bit of the literary rat Firmin, overambitious like Dr Frankenstein, existential like Hamlet, a nostalgic dreamer like Gil Pender. Would like to be a bit more adventurous like Dirk Pitt and clever like Sherlock Holmes.

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Phew. I’m fading… The next post may be enhanced by alcohol. x

LiteraryMinded’s fifth blog anniversary spectacular! (part two)

See part one and what this is all about here!

Glen Hunting asks:

1) How did you become a Bowie fan, and what is your favourite Bowie song?

How I came to love Bowie is explained in detail in this post but in short, I was in year 12 when I connected with his music, his chameleonism, his mix of darkness, strangeness and humour, his art and style and truly unique (always shifting) outlook. I could go on… He’s not only my favourite musician, he’s my favourite writer. My favourite song changes but at the moment it’s probably ‘We Are the Dead‘ from Diamond Dogs.

2) What was the most heartrending book/story/poem/film you’ve ever read or watched?

I can’t name just one. Black Beauty by Anna Sewell when I was a kid. The Land Before Time, Bambi, E.T. When I was 14, the film American Beauty. The Misfits with Monroe, Gable and Clift. The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath and Girl, Interrupted by Susanna Kaysen (and the film, in my teens). Hamlet. Everything by Kafka. Albert Camus’ The Myth of Sisyphus. In recent years: Synecdoche New York, the collected stories of Richard Yates, Wings of Desire. I’ll stop there.

3) What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do? (Well, perhaps not hardest, but pretty damn hard within reasonable limits.)

I’ve lived a privileged life, some things have taken a lot of effort but I really haven’t had to do anything extremely difficult. There has been serious illness in my family but we all got through that together. The biggest challenges for me, I guess, were moving to a city where I knew nobody, travelling by myself overseas in my early twenties, and speaking in front of a crowd (which still makes me nervous). One thing that has been worse in the past but that I continue to deal with (as many people do) are some very negative and dark corners within my own self.

Lee Zachariah asks: ‘Do you find it difficult to keep up to date with literature given the amount of time it takes to read a book (taking into account varying lengths)? I’m asking from the perspective of a film critic. When I watch a film, I know I only need devote 90-120 minutes to it, and can schedule accordingly. It’s easy to keep up to date with nearly everything on release. Keeping up to date with literature must surely be a whole different prospect: do you pick and choose more carefully, or maybe focus on specific trends/styles?’

It’s impossible to keep up! Reading for festivals and (commissioned) reviews helps me stay relatively up to date with Australian literature, as well as reading other blogs, reviews, and Bookseller+Publisher mag (which has pre-release reviews). But I’m interested in literature (fiction, poetry, nonfiction) from all around the world, not to mention the classics. Sometimes I wish I were more picky! Ahhhhhhhhhhhh well.

Robyne Young:

A blogger named Angela Meyer
To the heights of her art did aspire.
Through her vids, posts and prose,
To great lengths she does go
To make us all Literary Minded!

So sweet, Robyne. I really do hope I inspire lit-love in others.

Alexandra Neill asks: ‘You are asked to describe your blog to someone who has never read it. Using mime. You’re allowed to use three props. What would they be and why?’

They would be:

Gerard Elson says:

My response: Addictive TV is addictive, shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

Gerard Elson also says: http://kingofromania.com/2010/04/22/expression-of-the-day-drum-bun/

May our drum be bun indeed, my love.

Kent MacCarter asks: ‘What are the top ten (High Fidelity style) most random promo copy titles you’ve received to review? eg, Lawnmower Repair Made Easy.‘

Too hard, Kent, these publicists do actually seem to know what they’re doing most of the time! Also, I have a terrible memory. Here’s some I wish I’d received:

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Part three to follow…