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Posts from the ‘Books’ Category

Flightless Bird

twilight-poster1So. I’m working on a piece about vampire lit for the July issue of The Australian Literary Review (the June issue of which is in tomorrow’s Australian, just btw) and as a result I’ve spent the last few weeks reading more crappy vampire novels than any sane person should have to. But having waded my way through the books I’m now having to get to work on the movies, which is why, last night, I found myself in front of Twilight.

Now even before I saw it I knew it was meant to be at least interesting, if only because it was directed by Catherine Hardwicke, who directed Lords of Dogtown and Thirteen (and who, if memory serves, was rather unceremoniously dumped off the sequel after Twilight was deemed too “arty” by the studio) but I have to say I wasn’t expecting a lot, so the reality came as something of a pleasant surprise. In fact the film itself is a bit of a treat, at least until the grinding of the plot machinery takes over in the second half. Bella and Edward are a little dull, but everyone around them is wonderful, and Hardwicke lends the otherwise fairly routine material a slightly off-kilter sweetness that’s difficult to resist. Even small scenes, such as the one in which Bella’s father introduces her to Billy and Jacob are beautifully staged and composed. Of course it all goes wrong once the plot takes over, but until then there’s a lot to like.

Less obvious is the sheer gorgeousness of the film as a film, not just in terms of its cinematography and use of location, but in terms of editing and sound and, rather more obviously, music. Rather than the bombastic rock one might have expected, Hardwicke has assembled a soundtrack built around guitar music by Carter Burwell and a collection of tracks by Paramore and Linkin Park. But pride of place in the film goes to ‘Flightless Bird, American Mouth’, the stunning closing track from Iron & Wine’s 2007 album, The Shepherd’s Dog.

I’m not sure The Shepherd’s Dog is the place to start for anyone new to Sam Beam’s very particular genius (I’d probably send a newcomer to Our Endless Numbered Days) but anyone wanting a taste of what he’s about might want to spend a moment or two listening to the live recording of ‘Flightless Bird, American Mouth’ below.

And if you’re marvelling at the beard, apparently he doesn’t like to talk about it. (Annoyingly I read something just the other day about the cultural significance of the crazy beard thing, but I can’t remember where it was, so if anyone else saw it, and knows where it was, please let me know).

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Reading in the smallest room

DropThere’s a certain circular conversation a particular friend and I have reasonably frequently. It begins with him asking me whether some new eReader app for the iPhone is any good. I tell him the Kindle one is okay, but reading books on the tiny screen is a pretty ordinary experience. We then talk about eReaders for a while, and about the relative merits of the Kindle and the Iliad and the Sony machine, agreeing as we do that it’s stupid that they’re all non-convergent, and that while the new Kindle pulls in blog content and newspapers, it’s still doesn’t let you browse the internet. Usually we then pause to diss that other non-convergent cul de sac, the Blackberry, and for him to tell me again how much he hates his iPhone. Then I do my speech about how there’s a device waiting to be made which is somewhere between a tablet computer, a Kindle and a netbook, a networkable device capable of managing all types of media including ebooks. Sometimes I digress a bit into the question of how such a device will necessarily drive changes to the interface of ebooks, allowing publishers to embed video and sound and animation. And then, finally, he complains that all he wants is something he can read on the crapper that will let him check his email and take calls if he needs to (I always wish he hadn’t added in that final detail).

Anyway, it seems Japanese author Koji Suzuki (author of the books The Ring movie was based upon) may have come up with a novel solution to my friend’s dilemma. Crunchgear is reporting his new book, Drop, won’t be published between covers, but on a roll of toilet paper. Apparently the “book” is being marketed as “Japan’s creepiest toilet paper”, and is being sold through supermarkets rather than bookshops, and while it won’t check email or take calls, it’s probably easier to read than the Kindle app for the iPhone.

(Thanks to Janiece for the heads-up)

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A quick mea culpa

In my post yesterday about the new look Meanjin and the Meanjin blog I omitted to mention the excellent work Jeff Sparrow and his team have been doing at Overland. It wasn’t a deliberate omission, but it was pretty remiss of me, not least because Overland began exploring the possibilities of the online environment more than a decade ago with Overland Express. That said, are there other sites I’ve forgotten? If there are please let me know.

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Meanjin: signal from noise?

MeanjinAfter the acrimony surrounding the absorption of Meanjin into MUP, and the departure of former editor Ian Britain, one could have been forgiven for thinking Sophie Cunningham had accepted a poisoned chalice when she took over as editor last year. I’m not sure anyone would think that now: despite a mildly controversial redesign the magazine seems to have gone from strength to strength under her editorship, a process which is clearly visible in the Winter issue (2/2008) which was launched at Sydney Writers’ Festival last week and features Ross Gibson’s quietly brilliant piece on William Dawes and Patyegarang, Katherine Wilson on the hoaxing of Keith Windschuttle and an interview with Christos Tsiolkas.

I’m obviously not an unbiased reader – I’ve known Sophie for a long time, and she’s published a couple of pieces by me in the new-look magazine – but what I find exciting about her version of Meanjin is its determination to drag the literary magazine into the 21st century. In doing that she’s obviously drawn inspiration from American magazines like McSweeney’s which have embraced the possibilities of advances in publishing technology to create magazines which reflect the omnivorousness of their interests in their physical form, and which are prepared to explore the possibilities opened up by zines and graphic forms such as comics. But she’s also clearly put a lot of effort into trying to reimagine the sort of writing one might find in a magazine such as Meanjin by including more life writing and memoir and commissioning pieces on television and broader questions about digital copyright and new media.

All of which brings us to the Meanjin blog, Spike, which has been going from strength to strength over recent weeks. Although News Ltd are about to launch some kind of new media venture under the stewardship of former Daily Telegraph Editor, David Penberthy, Australian media has handled the transition to digital strikingly badly. In contrast to newspapers such as The Guardian and The New York Times, which have devoted considerable time and energy to developing digital incarnations that embrace the possibilities of the medium by incorporating high-quality blogging and high levels of interactivity, the online versions of our newspapers are largely content to simply replicate their print versions online, albeit in a stripped back and dumbed down form.

This contrast is particularly acute in the context of the cultural pages of Australian newspapers and magazines, through which you can almost hear the tumbleweed blowing. Rather than using the cost pressures upon the print versions of these sections as an excuse to build more sophisticated online presences, Australian newspapers have been progressively scaling back their cultural content online.

Nor – although it must be said this is largely a matter of economics – have our literary magazines embraced the possibilities of digital publishing. There are some notable exceptions out in the blogosphere, where outfits like Larvatus Prodeo have found niches and occupied them with varying degrees of success. And in a slightly more formal context Inside Story is doing some good work, and The Monthly has set up its subscription-based Slow TV. But in general it’s fair to say that most of what’s out there is being done on the sniff of an oily rag by individual bloggers.

That alone would be reason to make Spike – which is already drawing on a pretty wide pool of contributors and producing the sort of steady stream of good material that makes individual bloggers like myself feel exhausted every time we look at it – stand out from the crowd. But what’s more interesting about it is the fact that rather than devoting their resources to reproducing the content from the print version of the magazine online, Meanjin has decided to create a separate entity which complements and extends the print version of the magazine by providing content specifically created for an online environment.

All of which makes the redesign of the physical magazine, and its preparedness to rethink how the medium might affect the message seem less about simply taking design cues from elsewhere and more about a really serious strategy to find a model which might contain good writing across a variety of media (a project that’s also visible in Sophie and the magazine’s enthusiastic and highly successful embrace of the possibilities of Twitter).

In and of itself the successful implementation of such a strategy would be interesting, but I suspect the current convulsions in the media landscape give it increasing urgency. As the newspapers stumble dinosaur-like towards their inevitable oblivion, the question of where the Australian cultural and literary conversation will occur is sharpening, and I’d have to say that at this point the forums aren’t exactly thick on the ground. I can name a slew of American sites such as The Second Pass, Salon, BookForum or The Millions, all of which offer access to writing about books and ideas of a very high standard, and which, to a greater or lesser degree, embrace the possibilities of the internet as a medium. By contrast, there are almost no Australian sites offering anything of the sort, nor – at least without considerable private or institutional backing – does it seem likely there will be any time soon.

I suspect some people will accuse me of cultural nationalism, but they’d be mistaken. All I’m saying is that it’s vital small countries, and in particular anglophone small countries with a long history as importers of culture, possess forums in which ideas and issues be discussed in context. Because without them we’ll be condemned to listening to other people’s conversations, without ever being able to have our own.

All of which makes the Meanjin experiment as important as it is interesting. Because while Meanjin isn’t going to be The Sydney Morning Herald of the future, I do think in it, and in Spike, it’s possible to see a model which suggests it is possible to mark out space for the Australian cultural conversation online without being either stuffy or parochial. And that’s something that really, really matters.

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Health and Australian Society

I’m grateful to The New York Times’ Book Design Review for digging this wonderful cover from the 1970s out of Seven Hundred Penguins, the sequel to Penguin by Design: A Cover Story 1935-2005. What the Book Design Review misses is that the author of this magnificently liveried tome is actually Basil Hetzel, the discoverer of the link between iodine deficiency, goitre and cretinism, and one of the unsung heroes of human health, but I suppose they can’t be blamed too much for being mesmerized by the cover itself. After all, a hard-earned thirst needs a good cold beer . . .

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Literary Prize gets it right?

The Good ParentsI was delighted to see Joan London’s The Good Parents, win the Christina Stead Award for Fiction at last night’s NSW Premier’s Awards. I think like many people I’d been assuming the award would go to Tim Winton for Breath, so to see Joan win was an unexpected delight.

Literary awards in Australia don’t tend to do much for sales, but I do hope this one leads at least a few people to The Good Parents because it’s a wonderful novel. Like her last, Gilgamesh, it’s a deceptively subtle work, which is at once intelligent and immensely compassionate, and which, in its way, reminds me of Marilynne Robinson at her best.

If you’d like to know more the Arts NSW website has links to an extract from the novel and an interview with Joan. And in place of the dead link they provide to the Sydney Morning Herald review you might want to check out the review at The New York Times.

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Revenge of the Doorstop

fatbookNow I don’t mean to carp, but what is it with 2009 and unreasonably fat books? It’s only May, and I’ve already had to wade my way through the 900-odd pages of 2666, the 1,000 (incredibly dense) pages of The Kindly Ones and the 600 or so of A.S. Byatt’s The Children’s Book. And this morning Hilary Mantel’s 600 page-plus Wolf Hall lands on my doorstep with an audible thud. Don’t these people have better things to do with their time?

Grrr.

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Depression, creativity and some more linkage

coming-soonI’ve not seen it yet, but the print edition of Saturday’s Age has an extract from my Griffith Review piece on depression and creativity. If it ever turns up online I’ll link to it, but in the meantime, just a reminder I’ve posted the complete, unedited version on this site, or you can download it as a pdf from the Griffith Review site. And please remember you can subscribe to Griffith Review by visiting their website, or purchase individual copies of Essentially Creative from Gleebooks, Readings or bricks and mortar bookshops everywhere.

Meanwhile, following on from Friday’s post about The Second Pass, I thought I’d link to another site I hadn’t seen until very recently, The Millions. A group blog with a very impressive list of regular and guest contributors, it offers intelligent – and substantial – commentary about books, arts and culture, and has recently offered a series of excellent articles about the future of book coverage.

That short piece about The Second Pass (and more particularly Genevieve, of Reeling and Writhing’s characteristically generous comment on it) reminded me that when I set this site up, one of my aims was to share links to articles and sites I thought were worth reading. That ambition rather fell by the wayside, largely because I found the tone of the site as it developed didn’t really suit a lot of linking and aggregation. I’m currently working on a major redesign which will allow me to aggregate links more effectively (a redesign which may also involve a name change, since I’ve rather taken against the name), but in the meantime, I though I’d offer a link to another site, and in particular a piece, I think everybody with an interest in the future of media should read, which is Clay Shirky’s ‘Thinking the Unthinkable’. It’s a month or so old now, but if you haven’t read it you should – it’s probably the most significant piece of writing the blogosphere has seen in the last twelve months.

And finally, my apologies if the content on the site has been a bit rackety recently. I’ve had a bit of a messy few weeks health and work-wise, so I’ve not really been on top of things (the WordPress system’s decision to eat my long post about the death of J.G. Ballard didn’t help either). But I’ve got good things planned for coming weeks, so stay tuned.

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The Second Pass

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Image by Richard Eriksson

A while back, I was musing about the future of the book review in an online world, and whether as the print forums for reviewing folded, we would see the rise of new, online forums. What I missed then was the launch of The Second Pass, a new and extremely impressive online book review which attempts to merge the best of the old with some of the new. As its editor, John Williams, explains in his Editor’s Note:

“There are many very good literary blogs out there (several of them can be found on our Links page). But most of these feature writing by one person (and perhaps an occasional guest), and, understandably, aren’t always updated daily, blogs being a full-time job for very few people. My occasional byline will be just one of many in the reviews sections: Circulating, which will review newly released titles; and The Backlist, which will focus on older, sometimes unfairly neglected books.

“The Blog will be updated several times every weekday. It will include, among other features, links to noteworthy reviews published elsewhere, great opening sentences, book covers both lovely and horrific, excerpts from books we admire, “anti-blurbs,” and roundups of what’s happening on other blogs.”

Meanwhile, for those of you after yet more writing about books, Critical Mass’ Rigoberto Gonzalez offers a list of eight blogs about books and writing he thinks are indispensable. Some, such as Maud Newton’s, are likely to be familiar, others, such as Ron Silliman’s, may be less so, but they’re all worth a look. And closer to home, Meanjin now has a blog.

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On Fairy Tales

Jan Pienkowski, Sleeping Beauty, from Jan Pienkowski, Fairy Tales

Jan Pienkowski, Sleeping Beauty, from Jan Pienkowski, Fairy Tales

Hiding from Monday’s downpour in the Bondi Junction Westfield, I came across the new Puffin edition of Jan Pienkowski’s Fairy Tales in our local Borders. Originally published in the 1970s, it was a book I loved as a child, as much for its stunning illustrations as for its text. Taken with my discovery I bought it, and brought it home, thinking I could read it to my daughter when she is a bit older.

Clearly I didn’t do much of a job of hiding it, because last night she found it, and bringing it into the kitchen, demanded my partner, Mardi, read it to her. Because she’s not three yet we’ve generally shied away from reading her fairy stories, wary not just of their violence, but of the often complex ideas they involve. At first Mardi refused, telling her it was too long, and too complicated, but Annabelle insisted, and so Mardi sat down and read her ‘Snow White’. I was cooking dinner, so I could see Annabelle listening as the story unfolded, completely enthralled. Once or twice she asked questions, or pointed to a picture, but for the most part she was spellbound, despite the story running to more than 40 pages, and being filled with things she had never heard of, such as dwarves and spells, and kings and queens. And, once it was done, she asked for another, and then another.

Anyway, this morning before childcare I came into her room to find her seated on the floor with her teddy on her lap, and the book open in front of her. Turning the pages carefully she pointed to the pictures, explaining to teddy, ‘that’s a bad lady,’ and ‘that’s a dwarf,’ and ‘that’s a witch casting a spell’. And as she did I was struck anew by the thrilling power of old stories, of the way they seem somehow to be already there, somewhere deep inside of us, waiting only for us to call them back, into the light.

Update: This post reminded me of this piece, which I wrote in 2007 to coincide with the publication of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows:

The Lands Within

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Grieving for Dummies

I kid you not . . .

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On depression and creativity

Griffith ReviewI’ve just realized the full text of my essay about depression and creativity, ‘Never real and always true’ is available for download on the Griffith Review site. Unfortunately it’s only in pdf format, so I’ve taken the liberty of cutting and pasting the text onto this site. And remember you can subscribe to Griffith Review by visiting their website, or purchase individual copies of Essentially Creative online from Gleebooks, Readings or bricks and mortar bookshops everywhere.

‘Never real and always true: on depression and creativity’

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Ngã Uruora (or The Groves of Life)

Geoff Park

Geoff Park

I was deeply saddened last week to learn of the death of the New Zealand ecologist and writer, Geoff Park.

I didn’t know Park, who died on 17 March as a result of a brain tumour, but I did know his work, most particularly his marvellous 1995 book, Ngã Uruora (The Groves of Life): Ecology and History in a New Zealand Landscape, a book I first read after it was pressed on me by Ross Gibson, whose own quietly urgent words about the necessity of coming to understand the landscape we inhabit Park quotes in the book’s introduction.

It’s often difficult to escape the moment, to take the sort of long view which allows one to tell which books and ideas will shape the way we think in years to come, but I think there’s little doubt that Ngã Uruora is one of those books. For while its exploration of the environmental history of New Zealand is ostensibly a small, even parochial subject, it is a book which, in its capaciousness and breadth of vision opens up a new way of understanding the environment, and the deeply complex nature of our relationship to it.

Sadly there doesn’t seem to be any sort of formal obituary to Geoff Park online, but I thought it might be fitting to reproduce a few words which seem to me to capture exactly the quality of attention and generosity which make Ngã Uruora such an important book:

“When you become involved with the landscape . . . it becomes much more than a view. Even to draw a carp, Chinese masters warn, it is not enough to know what the animal looks like, and to understand its anatomy and physiology. It is also necessary to consider the reed which the carp brushes up against each morning, the oblong stone behind which it conceals itself, and the rippling of the water when it comes to the surface. These elements should in no way be constituted as the carp’s environment. They belong to the carp itself. In other words the brush should sketch a life, since a life – like the landscape – is constituted by the traces left behind and imprints silently borne.”

Vale, Geoff Park, go well: you’ll be missed.

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Contemporary Writers Festival

resurrectionist-cover-ukJust a quick note to let you know that if you’re at a loose end on Sunday, I’ll be speaking alongside Malcolm Knox, Mireille Juchau and Ivor Indyk on a panel called ‘Desperate Characters: Character writing in extremis‘ at the Contemporary Writers Festival in Sydney.

The panel is at 11:30, and full details of the program are available on the NSW Writers Centre website if you’d like to make a day of it.

The Contemporary Writers Festival is a joint initiative of the NSW Writers Centre and the UTS Centre for New Writing.

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Australian Literary Review out today

06555829001Just a reminder that The Australian Literary Review is available free in today’s issue of The Australian. Selected reviews, excerpts etc are available over at the ALR website, but since you can have the hard copy for nix by buying the paper, why not buy the real thing? Highlights include a review of David Malouf’s stunning new novel, Ransom by Alberto Manguel, a review of Duncan Wu’s study of Hazlitt, William Hazlitt: The First Modern Man, by James Ley (not online) and a piece on the graphic novel by Cefn Ridout (also not online). For more information check out the ALR website, or ALR editor Stephen Romei’s blog, A Pair of Ragged Claws.

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