Gillian Polack's Blog, page 205
March 1, 2012
Women's History Month
I wasn't going to do much for WHM this year, but I was working half-awake and found I'd asked a group of rather cool people if they'd participate in my annual celebration. Some of them were too busy (why is March always so impossibly frantic?), but most of them have said yes. Watch this space!
Leading off the month will be Anita Heiss, talking about some of her favourite writers. I'll post her thoughts in just a few minutes. This is the same Anita whose poetry I was reading the other week.
Leading off the month will be Anita Heiss, talking about some of her favourite writers. I'll post her thoughts in just a few minutes. This is the same Anita whose poetry I was reading the other week.
gillpolack @ 2012-03-01T11:04:00
By about 10 am today, Canberra had received (as the news delights in pointing out) nearly the amount of rain it receives for the whole month of March in an average year. March is one of our wetter months, normally, so we're talking about quite a bit of rain. At least one town in the highest mountain range in the country has been evacuated. Queanbeyan has enormous numbers of road closures: it's not a NSW thing - a chunk of Queanbeyan was built on a flood plain. And my Queanbeyan friends are probably already tired of my jokes about the cemetery releasing bodies into our main lake again (it happened once and ever since then Canberrans have made jokes about it - we are cruel people).
This is the same rain that started days ago. The weather bureau says that it will continue until Saturday, but I suspect the worst will be over today. I hope so, I had plans to see Queanbeyan friends and go shopping with them on Saturday! The shopping was for basic larder-fullness, so if we can't do it I shall have to do some strategic planning and shop every couple of days for a bit (which will wreak havoc with work, since shopping by myself takes so *long*): I can't carry much and so I fill my larder with the help of friends or with a homeshop and then do top ups - when things fall through, it becomes more than a nuisance. At any rate, it's too early to tell if Saturday will need rearranging, because we are very high (altitude, nothing to do with our local drug laws, which are more lenient than those in Queanbeyen-on-the-flood-plain) and so our floods tend to run off fairly quickly.
All this means that life is mildly interesting because of the weather. Queanbeyan and Canberra will both be fine in a few days but downstream there are quite different landscapes. We're the highlands for the Murray River and so all my friends who live downstream have an interesting few days ahead. They already have an interesting time now, given that the rain is part of a 2000 km band that's been working its way across the region for days. The wetlands will be super-saturated, the farmlands will be inundated, and Adelaide might mistakenly think that the Murray has a genuine outlet to the sea through their fair city.
My personal stake in this? (apart from so many friends and their folks being affected, that is, and not thinking of my desire to eat) I'm barely down the road from the bit of Canberra where flood fatalities in our modern history occurred. I'm don't live at the lowest point in the Woden valley, but I'm on the lower slopes leading down to it. Last time there was big rain, I watched as the drains were covered and big plops indicated their presences under a foot of water. So far this week, though, the rain has been hard and heavy, but not quite so hard and heavy that the drainage system hasn't carried it away quickly. The folks downstream are suffering and the folks in the mountains are suffering and the folks in Queanbeyan are possibly questioning their location, and more and more roads are closing in our fair city, but I myself am currently quite fine.
This is the same rain that started days ago. The weather bureau says that it will continue until Saturday, but I suspect the worst will be over today. I hope so, I had plans to see Queanbeyan friends and go shopping with them on Saturday! The shopping was for basic larder-fullness, so if we can't do it I shall have to do some strategic planning and shop every couple of days for a bit (which will wreak havoc with work, since shopping by myself takes so *long*): I can't carry much and so I fill my larder with the help of friends or with a homeshop and then do top ups - when things fall through, it becomes more than a nuisance. At any rate, it's too early to tell if Saturday will need rearranging, because we are very high (altitude, nothing to do with our local drug laws, which are more lenient than those in Queanbeyen-on-the-flood-plain) and so our floods tend to run off fairly quickly.
All this means that life is mildly interesting because of the weather. Queanbeyan and Canberra will both be fine in a few days but downstream there are quite different landscapes. We're the highlands for the Murray River and so all my friends who live downstream have an interesting few days ahead. They already have an interesting time now, given that the rain is part of a 2000 km band that's been working its way across the region for days. The wetlands will be super-saturated, the farmlands will be inundated, and Adelaide might mistakenly think that the Murray has a genuine outlet to the sea through their fair city.
My personal stake in this? (apart from so many friends and their folks being affected, that is, and not thinking of my desire to eat) I'm barely down the road from the bit of Canberra where flood fatalities in our modern history occurred. I'm don't live at the lowest point in the Woden valley, but I'm on the lower slopes leading down to it. Last time there was big rain, I watched as the drains were covered and big plops indicated their presences under a foot of water. So far this week, though, the rain has been hard and heavy, but not quite so hard and heavy that the drainage system hasn't carried it away quickly. The folks downstream are suffering and the folks in the mountains are suffering and the folks in Queanbeyan are possibly questioning their location, and more and more roads are closing in our fair city, but I myself am currently quite fine.
February 29, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-02-29T22:35:00
It's been a day for extremes. I did my bit of editing at an unholy hour, due to insomnia, then I woke up in plenty of time to teach my 5 hours, very intensely.
My students (and the others from the program, who came just for the excursion) want to learn so very much that I found myself talking them through nearly every single item in two exhibitions. The first exhibit took us through some extraordinary history. They now know about 18th century naval promotions and why one needed maths, the sad story of Bligh (and the rather less sad story of his daring daughter), about Eddie Mabo and what sort of furniture works in a captain's cabin. We talked about palm leaf manuscripts and the Malleus Maleficarum and the history of handwriting and the difference between a life mask and a death mask. We talked about Federation and the Australian constitution. And that was about 1/20th of the first exhibition. In the second, we covered everything from the structure of Medieval manuscripts through the way scientists communicated in the 18th and 19th centuries, talked about Marie Curie and Rosa Luxembourg and spent a fair while on learning how to interpret musical scores. A member of the public hovered near us for quite a bit of the time, which I found reassuring (we must have been an interesting group).
I had a bit of a break and a chat with a friend, and then read my five books. One of the Hayden White's was good but all his writing is such hard work taht I fell out of love with him for a full hour. Georg Lukacs, on the other hand, thought so very lucidly about the issues I was looking for that my notes almost wrote themselves and I could instantly see how my argument may fit together. I doubt my share of the lucidity will last, but I love the clarity of his mind. I also love that neither scholar did anything close to what I'm actually doing - every time I discover I'm not reinventing the wheel, I feel rather relieved.
I think I'm nearly finished my library work for this dissertation. I still have piles of reading downloaded from various sources and a few more books in appropriate stacks, but I'm making solid headway.
We farewelled Jimmy at the pub and I am slightly inebriated. This is good, because I came home to discover that another friend has made his public farewell. It's pouring outside, which means the weather shares my view of such things.
I was nearly run over crossing the road on the last leg of my long day. It's dark (it's night!) and a car painted darkly didn't have its headlights on and refused to stop or swerve when they saw me (I wonder if it was stolen?). Fortunately, I can run quickly.
My students (and the others from the program, who came just for the excursion) want to learn so very much that I found myself talking them through nearly every single item in two exhibitions. The first exhibit took us through some extraordinary history. They now know about 18th century naval promotions and why one needed maths, the sad story of Bligh (and the rather less sad story of his daring daughter), about Eddie Mabo and what sort of furniture works in a captain's cabin. We talked about palm leaf manuscripts and the Malleus Maleficarum and the history of handwriting and the difference between a life mask and a death mask. We talked about Federation and the Australian constitution. And that was about 1/20th of the first exhibition. In the second, we covered everything from the structure of Medieval manuscripts through the way scientists communicated in the 18th and 19th centuries, talked about Marie Curie and Rosa Luxembourg and spent a fair while on learning how to interpret musical scores. A member of the public hovered near us for quite a bit of the time, which I found reassuring (we must have been an interesting group).
I had a bit of a break and a chat with a friend, and then read my five books. One of the Hayden White's was good but all his writing is such hard work taht I fell out of love with him for a full hour. Georg Lukacs, on the other hand, thought so very lucidly about the issues I was looking for that my notes almost wrote themselves and I could instantly see how my argument may fit together. I doubt my share of the lucidity will last, but I love the clarity of his mind. I also love that neither scholar did anything close to what I'm actually doing - every time I discover I'm not reinventing the wheel, I feel rather relieved.
I think I'm nearly finished my library work for this dissertation. I still have piles of reading downloaded from various sources and a few more books in appropriate stacks, but I'm making solid headway.
We farewelled Jimmy at the pub and I am slightly inebriated. This is good, because I came home to discover that another friend has made his public farewell. It's pouring outside, which means the weather shares my view of such things.
I was nearly run over crossing the road on the last leg of my long day. It's dark (it's night!) and a car painted darkly didn't have its headlights on and refused to stop or swerve when they saw me (I wonder if it was stolen?). Fortunately, I can run quickly.
February 28, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-02-29T09:08:00
Today is a day almost wholly away from my desk. I have two exhibitions at attend (and to talk my students through) at the National Library. The other staff member is a trained curator, so it should be rather a cool expedition. After that, the last books I need to read of both Hayden White and Georg Lukacs (Lukacs in translation, for my language skills don't feel good today() are waiting for me, also at the National Library.
In the evening, a group of us are raising a glass to Jimmy Goodrum. I still miss him. I still want to curse that rip on the beach where he went swimming on Christmas Eve. The only thing I can do is meet with friends and remember him, and hopefully listen to some readings of his work.
Because all this involves much walking I have a normal size handbag for once, and I'm not taking my computer. Lots of paper, spare pens (for my students) and reading glasses and I shall be fine. Except that tomorrow I might turn off the alarm. Insomnia last night followed by a long day today, all with interesting breathing...
I have other news, but it can wait: I hear the call of a library.
In the evening, a group of us are raising a glass to Jimmy Goodrum. I still miss him. I still want to curse that rip on the beach where he went swimming on Christmas Eve. The only thing I can do is meet with friends and remember him, and hopefully listen to some readings of his work.
Because all this involves much walking I have a normal size handbag for once, and I'm not taking my computer. Lots of paper, spare pens (for my students) and reading glasses and I shall be fine. Except that tomorrow I might turn off the alarm. Insomnia last night followed by a long day today, all with interesting breathing...
I have other news, but it can wait: I hear the call of a library.
gillpolack @ 2012-02-28T16:34:00
Thank you, Rachel! (All my litle messages are done - post office misdeliveries sorted, library books returned and more - she picked me up in the pouring rain and drove me round, then we have coffee together and it still took less than half the time it would have taken with me and the bus service!)
gillpolack @ 2012-02-28T11:19:00
Right now, I'm a bit tired of fairytale retellings. Some of the new ones are brilliant and atmospheric and terrifying, but there are just too many of them.
I never thought I'd say this. I studied the things as an undergrad; I have a bit of a fairytale collection: I loved retellings. And a lot of these writers are friends and I totally adore their work. But it's as if every third Australian spec fic writer has to do it, right now, instantly. And they're good tellings and they're worth publishing... but I might take a break after this book and not read any for two years.
Someone ought to write a book on the greed for the fairytale in current Australian spec fic. Modern Australian fairytales and their relationships to kangaroos and gumtrees. Modern Australian fairytales and the addictive unease we still feel about being mostly-European. Modern Australian fairytales as an aceptable bridge between adult and young adult fiction. Modern Australian fairytalesand their relationship to postcolonialism.* There's a dwarfhoard of luminous examples that could be cited. Not by me, though, not the citation and not the book. I need to read something else for a bit.
*Although I still argue, on bad-mood-days that Australia was post-colonial without ever really having been colonial. The Wild Colonial Boy started off in America, I will half-lie, to prove my case.
I never thought I'd say this. I studied the things as an undergrad; I have a bit of a fairytale collection: I loved retellings. And a lot of these writers are friends and I totally adore their work. But it's as if every third Australian spec fic writer has to do it, right now, instantly. And they're good tellings and they're worth publishing... but I might take a break after this book and not read any for two years.
Someone ought to write a book on the greed for the fairytale in current Australian spec fic. Modern Australian fairytales and their relationships to kangaroos and gumtrees. Modern Australian fairytales and the addictive unease we still feel about being mostly-European. Modern Australian fairytales as an aceptable bridge between adult and young adult fiction. Modern Australian fairytalesand their relationship to postcolonialism.* There's a dwarfhoard of luminous examples that could be cited. Not by me, though, not the citation and not the book. I need to read something else for a bit.
*Although I still argue, on bad-mood-days that Australia was post-colonial without ever really having been colonial. The Wild Colonial Boy started off in America, I will half-lie, to prove my case.
February 27, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-02-27T14:22:00
Side effect of gastro virus is that I'm very grumpy!!
gillpolack @ 2012-02-27T12:04:00
I'm rearranging my today. More reading, of course, but no outside activity, not even the library. I do not get to meet cute babies or to skip and jump to avoid crimson rosellas.*
There are two virii going round Canberra. One has a sore throat and one has nausea. I was ill all yesterday, but not badly enough to worry about it. I just got on with getting on until late in the day. I shall do the same today, because my travel sickness tablets mostly work. In between bedrest and wondering who gave me this virus, I'm reading more Margo Lanagan (Tender Morsels) and doing dissertation work and maybe a little bit on the Middle Ages. Not a vast day's work, but a solid one.
My burning question is "Has anyone local had the gastro - and if you have, how long does it last?" I need to be well by Wednesday, you see. Wednesday is unrearrangeable.
* My street has low-flying crimson rosellas. They think they have right of way. They're prettier than me, so I'm willing to cede the path if I see them in time.
There are two virii going round Canberra. One has a sore throat and one has nausea. I was ill all yesterday, but not badly enough to worry about it. I just got on with getting on until late in the day. I shall do the same today, because my travel sickness tablets mostly work. In between bedrest and wondering who gave me this virus, I'm reading more Margo Lanagan (Tender Morsels) and doing dissertation work and maybe a little bit on the Middle Ages. Not a vast day's work, but a solid one.
My burning question is "Has anyone local had the gastro - and if you have, how long does it last?" I need to be well by Wednesday, you see. Wednesday is unrearrangeable.
* My street has low-flying crimson rosellas. They think they have right of way. They're prettier than me, so I'm willing to cede the path if I see them in time.
February 26, 2012
gillpolack @ 2012-02-26T15:27:00
I'm updating here for my own benefit, because crossing things off lists isn't nearly as much fun (just today - lists will no doubt be crucial to my progress again tomorrow). I've read two of the books in their entirety (Clute and Lanagan), am nearly 1/3 of the way through the Douglass and 1/10 of the way through the de Groot. I'm taking lots of notes and the reading is just as much fun as I predicted. What I didn't predict, however, was the joyousness of some of Douglass' short stories. I'm dealing with Weather and I Don't Care, because the feel of the stories makes it all go away. This is what I love about good writing (regardless of genre) - it can make Weather go away.
gillpolack @ 2012-02-26T13:39:00
Today is strangely silent. Some kinds of research I need a DVD on, but others I need perfect concentration. For some reason, I've scheduled a whole series of books today that require that total attention. it feels strange, because all summer I've worked to background noise - I come from a large and noisy family, so it helps me get through things.
I have reading for an essay/review (the last Sara Douglass book - I kept putting it off because it made me sad thinking about it, but I promised myself that it would appear by or in March and so sorrow is no longer a good enough excuse) and reading for my dissertation (two books - John Clute's Pardon This Intrusion and Jerome de Groot's The Historical Novel) plus more Margo. I'm doing a Lanagan dissection and Margo may not speak to me ever again! (I still totally love her writing - but I'm analysing it madly.)
It's a really nice set of work tasks. Makes for a good Sunday, with not much time for idiot procrastination. I'm almost through the Clute (because I cheated and started at midnight last night, because bed beckoned and the book beckoned and the book won) and nearly halfway through the Lanagan.
I have reading for an essay/review (the last Sara Douglass book - I kept putting it off because it made me sad thinking about it, but I promised myself that it would appear by or in March and so sorrow is no longer a good enough excuse) and reading for my dissertation (two books - John Clute's Pardon This Intrusion and Jerome de Groot's The Historical Novel) plus more Margo. I'm doing a Lanagan dissection and Margo may not speak to me ever again! (I still totally love her writing - but I'm analysing it madly.)
It's a really nice set of work tasks. Makes for a good Sunday, with not much time for idiot procrastination. I'm almost through the Clute (because I cheated and started at midnight last night, because bed beckoned and the book beckoned and the book won) and nearly halfway through the Lanagan.
