Iris Lavell's Blog, page 19

February 26, 2013

Book Review - Other People's Country


Not the cover - follow linkBefore starting on the books from the Writers Festival I wanted to read a book written by Maureen Helen, who has presented at the Book Length Project Group and attends on occasions.

So glad I did! My take on the book is below:Other People’s Country Maureen-Helen ABC Books, 2008.First published in April 2008, Other People’s Country is a Memoir that tracks a short period in the author’s life when she found herself working as a nurse (or, for a period of time, the nurse) with the predominantly Martu population at Jigalong. Jigalong is an isolated Aboriginal settlement in the Pilbara region of Western Australia, in the North-east of the state. It is desert country, hot, dry, largely treeless, and sometimes very cold at night. The housing conditions are very poor and the health conditions of the people are such that the mortality rate is much, much higher than that of the wider Australian community. It took me about twenty pages to settle into this book, but by then I was well and truly hooked and found the story hard to put away. For me, the authenticity with which the author tracks her experiences, her ability to elicit the sensations and images of the environment, and to trace her changing responses to it, was all done with considerable skill and sensitivity. The experience is not sugar-coated, and the author is not always kind to herself (at times unfairly, I think), but I think this humility is necessary when discussing contact with a culture that is complex, many thousands of years old, and largely unknown by outsiders. In the past, the destructive colonialist tendency was to label, denigrate and destroy what was not easily understood.  Maureen Helen’s understanding of this is shared in an early chapter and provides a context for her interpretation and sometimes awkward responses to the situation in which she finds herself. The book is easy to read, a transparently personal account, and includes all the joys and dramas that one would expect in a close, isolated community. If you are interested in the effects of culture shock, in what it might feel like to volunteer in a remote community, in the health issues that unfortunately have not significantly improved since the time in which the book was set (1990s), or if you just want a satisfying read that takes you somewhere you are unlikely to ever go otherwise, read it! It’s a good one, and easy to see why it was shortlisted for the Premier’s Award (History) in 2008, and on the long list for the prestigious Walkley Award in the same year.
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Published on February 26, 2013 19:30

February 24, 2013

Perth Writers Festival - Fin

Well that was worth doing. The weather was perfect, apart from the first evening which was just a tad warm and humid for the party, but a nice opportunity to put on a summer frock and sip wine with even warmer people.

In the end I came away with five new book purchases, which wasn't too bad given that I had vowed not to buy any more until I had finished reading the ones that I already have. Ah well, it's a long drought until the next festival, and sometimes books are hard to track down. Not the ones I bought probably, but in theory. I didn't get everything I wanted though. I'm looking to purchase China Mieville's (still can't do the accent) Embassytown. What I did come away with was Whisky Charlie Foxtrot a novel by Annabel Smith (Fremantle Press) about identical twin brothers who are estranged until a freak accident... looks good. I started reading it in the bookshop and I'm hooked already. No prizes for guessing the next ones: The Year of the Flood by Margaret Atwood, and In Other Worlds - SF and the Human Imagination. Yes, I know she doesn't need the book sales, but there you have it.



The other two purchases were surprises to me. Not the sort of thing that would normally draw me in, but listening to these two speakers in individual sessions, I couldn't help but buy the books. They were calling me. One was a memoir and the other a novel, both by soldiers who had served in "The War on Terror'. The first is called Exit Wounds - One Australian's War on Terror by Major General John Cantwell with Greg Bearup, and discusses the emotional scars left by war. The blurb says: "Exit Wounds is the deeply human account of one man's tour of the War on Terror, the moving story of life on a modern battlefield: from the nightmare of cheating death in a field strewn with mines, to the utter despair of looking into the face of a dead soldier before sending his body home to his mother. Cantwell hid his post-traumatic stress disorder for decades, fearing it would affect his career." Yes, I say it should be required reading for every politician and foreign policy decision-maker.

The novel I bought was The Yellow Birds by Kevin Powers. The author holds a Masters in Fine Arts from the University of Texas at Austin where he was a Michener Fellow in Poetry, and he served in the US Army in Iraq in 2004, 2005. In his talk he said that nobody comes out of a war zone undamaged. I bought the book because I walked in late, just in time to hear a passage read out from the book, and it moved me to tears. The writing is powerful, the subject necessary. What more could you ask from a novel?

I rounded off my day listening to the delightful Ramona Koval in conversation with John Freeman and Rachael Robertson. Too early for the closing address, but my brain was almost full and I needed to keep what was left to get myself safely home.

I'll keep you posted on the books.

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Published on February 24, 2013 16:17

February 23, 2013

Saturday at the Perth Writers Festival

Late again! After missing the first session, I caught up with friends who expressed their frustration with not being able to split themselves five ways so that they could attend all five sessions that they had marked in their progam for 9.30. They had chosen well with "The Frailty of Man" in which Major General John Cantwell and Kevin Powers discussed the true cost of war. Another two avid readers will now be able to gain a deeper understanding of the issues through the writng of these two authors.


At 10.30 we went together to listen to two wonderful Australian writers Natasha Lester (What is Left Over After, and If I Should Lose You) and Andrew Croome (Document Z and Midnight Empire). The session was called, "The Devil is in the Details" and the authors discussed the places that researching their novels has taken them. Natasha Lester's latest novel If I Should Lose You is one which concerns itself to a large extent with a mother-daughter relationship and the vexed issue of organ transplantation told from the point of view of a female heart surgeon. Andrew Croome's new novel Midnight Empire is about drone warfare, and his research took him to Las Vegas and a casino located in the desert next to a US military base. Both of these books will have to be on my rapidly growing 'to read' list. You have to pace yourself at these things. We needed time out to discuss and digest, so half an hour between sessions is not really enough.

My own first session ever at a writers festival was at 2.15pm in the Juliet Tent where people were able to sample wine as they listened in on the discussion between Amanda Curtin and me, a great indulgence where I was given free reign to talk about my book, the meaning of life, and writing generally, supported by an insightful writer and editor who asked some great questions. Amanda's first novel, The Sinkings was a deeply thought-provoking and beautifully crafted book that moved between the present day and early days of European settlement in Australia, following the fortunes of a convict, little Jock. Get hold of it and read it if you get the chance. It was encouraging to see all the friendly faces, although in the swimming sense of otherworldliness that took over my head, I experienced some difficulty placing and contextualising, so if I looked and didn't register, I beg tolerance. I missed the next session but managed to get back for the discussion with Emma Chapman (How to be a Good Wife) in the same tent. After hearing her speak, another book has gone on the list.

I caught some of Anna Funder and Robin DeCrespigmy (great, great, great) before dashing off for a salted peanut, coffee and wine dinner and a great night with Margaret Atwood at the Perth Concert Hall. Margaret Atwood and Jennifer Byrne. How could you lose? Two great plerkers (or more accurately plorkers - plork: to play and work; activity otherwise known as writing. The session will be televised on Australian ABC 1 - not the first Tuesday Book Club, but the other one. I, for one, will be eagerly looking out for the encore viewing.

Last day!
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Published on February 23, 2013 17:19

February 22, 2013

Wandering into events at the Perth Writers Festival

 A quickie, so I hope you will forgive any faux pas. I knew I'd have to pace myself on Friday, so I missed the 9.30 sessions and arrived around 10am to the pleasant, shady gardens of the University of Western Australia, where the Perth Writers Festival is held each year around this time.The weather was cooler today after quite a heat wave, so was perfect for wandering into some of the tents, rather than sticking to the air-conditioned buildings of the Octagon and Dolphin Theatres. Besides, I needed to check out the feel of the Juliet Tent (and yes, there is a Romeo Tent) as I have my interview in there this afternoon. Fortunately love was in the air, and I started the day with a love story - three in fact - featuring authors Mardi McConnochie, Susan Johnson and Jacinta Halloran. This session was followed up by some Critical Thinking featuring John Freeman, James Bradley, and Geordie Williamson in conversation with Stephen Romei - and yes the gender bias was noted by all panelists - the unspoken and probably unintentional message that love is the province of women and critical thinking the province of men. In fact there were two men in the tent who put up their hands to say that they wrote love stories, and one who elaborated to say that his were romantic rather than erotic. He said he suspected that many of the stories written for the popular romantic publishers were by men with female pseudonyms. In the Critical Thinking panel Geordie Williamson mentioned that they had noticed the all male makeup of the panel, but putting this aside, the discussion was lively and engaging. Maybe next year they can have an all male love story panel and an all female critical thinking panel.  Both were great regardless, and I came away from the second session with the feeling that the more experienced the critic, the more balanced (and probably kinder) their assessment of the book they might be reading. I had a long lunch with friends and finished my easy day with the Poets vs Novelists Debate, in which it seemed to me that they only proved what great poets novelists can be, and what great storytellers poets can be. Funny and fantastic. The evening was spent with the Raah Project in the Chevron Gardens - Wow! That covers it. A fusion of jazz, rap, twentieth century classical experimentation and a lead singer that in odd moments reminded me of Frank Sinatra. Now back to the festival - Day 3.
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Published on February 22, 2013 17:09

February 21, 2013

A great start!

The beautiful Ahdaf Soueif gave the opening address at the Perth Writers Festival last night to an enthralled audience. I came away inspired by the stories of great courage by young men and women, old women and ordinary people for whom art is a catalyst, and a conduit to freedom. The slides that she showed gave expression to the grief of ordinary people, honoured the young men who had given up their lives, or their eyesight, and gave artistic expression to great feelings of hope and determination to achieve a better life for all. And what a courageous and inspirational writer is Ahdaf Souief! If the length and strength of the applause that followed her presentation was anything to go by, she has had quite an impact on those present. Who knows how the art that arises after this festival is over, will be changed by her presence?

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Published on February 21, 2013 16:11

February 19, 2013

Perth Writers Festival almost here!

I am so looking forward to the Perth Writers Festival this weekend, starting with the opening address by novelist, journalist and political commentator Ahdaf Soueif who witnessed the beginning of a revolution in Cairo's Tahrir Square and will reflect on what it means for an artist to bear witness to the Egyption start of what has been dubbed 'The Arab Spring' by media commentators.

There are some great discussions planned with Margaret Atwood, China Mieville (sorry, not sure how to put the accent on), Anna Funder, Philip Adams (hug), Maxine McKew, Dennis Lehane, Lawrence Norfolk, Loretta Napoleoni, Andy Griffiths, Alison Lester, Isobelle Carmody, Gus Gordon, Edward St Aubyn, James Meek, Robert Dessaux and many, many others.

The Festival runs over Thursday (schools day) right through to Sunday afternoon. Sunday is Family Day with  great children's and YA authors, some of whom are mentioned above. Many of the events are free, and BLPG member Glen Hunting will be donning the T-shirt and volunteering again, so look out for a tall man (with wild hair and a beard) who looks like he knows what he's doing! Last year we were volunteers in solidarity, but I'm having a break from it this year to focus on the Glass of Wine and a Good Book free event sponsored by Writingwa in the Juliet Tent from 2pm -6pm on Saturday, and featuring Western Australian writers.

Volunteering at the festival is a great way to see what goes on behind the scenes, and the best part is meeting the other volunteers, many of whom are also published writers, or students of the craft, so think about it for next year if you are in the vicinity. I'll be putting my hand up again, all being well.
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Published on February 19, 2013 15:39

February 15, 2013

Book Length Project Group Meets this Sunday 17 February


See those who can make it at on Sunday at Mattie's House from 10am -12.30pm. Bring something to read or discuss if you like, or we can free-form it.
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Published on February 15, 2013 17:09

February 12, 2013

First Draft (A continuation of my little experiment)

 

A couple of years after everyone went missing and was found again, the whole family moved into town. They loaded up the car – there must have been a car by then, before the Vanguard and after the truck. The three children squeezed together in the back, two boys and the girl, uncomfortable, but comforted by their proximity. Their father drove the corrugated dirt road into town, straight to the stone house with the verandahs all around and the ceiling fans suspended from high pressed tin ceilings. She would have been about four by then. Her mother still kept her in a cot. They moved it onto the verandah for the cool, and at the end, above her head, hung the red chickens that her grandmother had made and sent from Perth. She loved those chickens, and her grandmother who brushed her hair to make it shine when she came to stay, but was only five when her mother sat her on her knee and told her that her grandmother had died. She remembers crying, has conserved the memory of the sharpness and depth of grief, feeling it fully and then letting it go. She fancies that she observes it like a scientist, that first grief, the intensity of feeling that a child can have, but really, it's gone.  The memory of her grandmother has been caught and pinned like an insect.  It has been drained of life. From time to time it is taken out and coveted, slid out on its tray, put back again, and then neglected. As the time has passed, its wings have fallen off. Perhaps it no longer serves its purpose. Life itself is good enough. Generations have lived and died in their a good-enough lives. A good enough life with a good enough mother and a good enough father. Her better than good enough grandmother was soon gone, leaving behind the red chickens, some birds and animals made from painted sea shells, and the miniature picture books that she had sent to them.

She would not be back. They were in another house by then. Time grows large for the child who places attention on everything new. Space and time is influenced by the landscape. The more it contains, the bigger it seems. To the child, hungry for learning, everything is significant and patterns are not fully formed. A new landscape beckoned. Back then, moving was fun. The love moved with them in any case. It didn’t seem too soon to have moved again.

Her father was an itinerant worker prospecting for gold, getting some work on stations, working at the power house. He was tall, thin, strong with naturally olive skin further darkened by the sun. She saw him anew when she looked back on the photographs of him as a young man.   Who was he, this man? He was not young when she was born - already in his forties, and the rheumatoid arthritis that he'd contracted in his twenties had already begun to take hold. He became visibly disabled, and people pitied him and thought he would die before them, but he didn’t. He kept a young spirit, right to the end, and lived until he was nearly ninety, in pain, and in defiance of his pain.  He loved to laugh. There must have been moments of joy. He might have lived long because there had been unfinished business.  Perhaps he couldn’t allow himself to die.  He lived on, until he could live on no more, finally allowing himself to drift away once the family was able to let him go. Those other men mostly died before him, the healthier, well-meaning men who visited and sat on the end of his hospital bed.

They were all younger once, living a life. Her father. She remembers her mother crying after they argued because he was going away again. She hated him for part of that day, because he made her mother cry. Now when her mother looks back on her life with him she says that they had a happy marriage. She says she still misses him, and that her own father was wrong when he advised her against the marriage, because the man she loved was twelve years older and divorced. She’s glad she didn’t marry her first fiance even though he was her own age and had plenty of money, because she'd felt trapped and found his mother domineering. Fate played a hand she thinks, although the content of that hand she has never revealed. Later when this first man's wife had died, and her own husband, this first one turned up on her doorstep. Her mother was already eighty by then, maybe more. He hadn’t seen her since she was twenty. “You’ve changed,” he said. “You used to be a slim little thing. What happened to you?”

"What happened to you?" she said.

(c) Iris Lavell 2013







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Published on February 12, 2013 16:22

February 9, 2013

Thanks

Thank you to all my friends, family, neighbours and colleagues who attended the launch of Elsewhere in Success yesterday, for your support and good wishes for the success of the book.
To Andrew and my family for their support and practical help.

To Aki for bringing her camera to document the day.

To Trisha Kotai-Ewers who very kindly provided the FAWWA venue of Mattie's for the launch, to Pat Johnson who worked away in the background, and to Peter Bibby who did so much after the event.

To Georgia Richter and Claire Miller from Fremantle Press for their support of this event and for everything they have done to help make this book a success.

To Clive Kicker and Dymocks for attending the event to ensure that books were available for those who wanted to purchase one.

And a big thank you to Dr Chris McLeod who launched the book after mentoring me through the years. And for doing such a great job.

The book is launched and sailing away on its own. Anything positive that happens with regard to this publication from now is a bonus.

Now, back to the writing.

Next meeting of the BLPG is next Sunday (17 January) at Mattie's, 10am.
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Published on February 09, 2013 17:55

February 7, 2013

Book launch reminder

You are all welcome to my book launch tomorrow at FAWWA premises, Mattie's House, 4.30pm. Light refreshments will be served and books will be available from the Dymocks table. I can sign for you, if you like. Looking forward to catching up with those who can make it.

Iris
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Published on February 07, 2013 20:19

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