Emma Donoghue’s cross-over novel, Akin, is very believable

With the year winding to a close there are lots of get-togethers among friends and colleagues. At times like this there are questions I am frequently asking, and being asked.  Like ‘What have you been reading?’, ‘Which books have you really liked this year?’ and so on. With the Christmas break looming and in theory more time for reading, here are some brief answers.

The Hole Story, by Kelly Canby, captivated me with its leap of imagination portrayed in a simple, humorous and compelling format. In contrast, Cicada, by Shaun Tan, is an intriguingly complex, multi-layered story of the life cycle of an insect.

Hive, by A.J.Betts, is an engaging look into a dystopian underwater world, followed by its sequel, Rogue, in which that world is torn apart.

Akin, by Emma Donoghue, is the cross-over book that has stayed with me most clearly this year for its use of the contrasting voices of a man approaching his 80th birthday and an 11 year old boy, thrown together by a thoroughly believable coincidence and having to share a room in a foreign hotel. Emma Donoghue makes this story work against the odds. And although I read the non-fiction Black Saturday: Not the End of the Story, by Peg Fraser, six months ago, before this latest inferno engulfed part of New South Wales, I found it refreshingly different and so well written that I still have some of the phrases from it in my head.

Happy reading over Christmas and lots of good cheer to all.

A significant event in the life of one woman, Rose de Freycinet, but once recorded it will last forever

In a recent interview I was asked, ‘Why should we study History?’. Although my answer was brief and probably adequate in the circumstances, the question has been hovering at the back of my mind all week. Then, going over some research today, I realised that knowing about it makes me feel that I’m actually part of history, part of something much bigger than me.

In some ways we can be trapped it. There are parts of our personal history that we can never escape, much as were would like to sometimes. On the other hand we can draw great strength and consolation from studying the history of the world and trying to tease out the secrets of its survival against almost impossible odds. Of course there will always be pessimists among us who throw up their hands, in difficult times, and declare that ‘the end of the world is nigh!’ However, I’m an optimist, and a determined one at that. I look at the vast numbers of people who have lived before us in some of the most extreme circumstances imaginable. Without studying history we would not know about their bravery, their determination and the sacrifices they made for their families and their survival.

In life there are many things that come and go. Sometimes it feels as if they come and go at a faster and faster pace. But the great strength of history lies in the fact that it is here to stay.

The wise old owl who lives in our garden

At the moment we are grappling with the problem of how to give potential readers of Goldfields Girl a taste for this book, which has been written for all ages from Middle Primary up. ‘In two or three sentences? An impossible task,’ my wise old friend Boobook tells me from his favourite branch in our lilli-pilli tree. But then what would he know? He’s never read a book in his life. He does, however, have many stories to tell if only we could speak his language. Suddenly I realise that the crux of this matter is how we use our own language. When the size allowed for the blurb on the back of a book is so small, how are we ever to choose the right words for everyone?

I guess what I want the blurb to say is that I have written this book for me, and learned a lot about myself along the way. But then that’s what has happened with all of my books and it’s not what the browser in catalogues, bookshops and libraries wants to know. Really their question is ‘Will I like this book?’ And maybe the blurb should say, ‘This is a book for everyone who has ever wanted to go off on an adventure into the unknown. A journey that will test courage, endurance, survival skills and emotional resilience. A story of life and death in the wild, unforgiving landscape of the Western Desert in the 1890s when life for everyone was equally hard and a sense of humour was a precious gift.

Also that writing blurbs is never easy.

Mark Greenwood, author of The Book of Stone, illustrated by Coral Tulloch

Some stories are as old as time itself and have their own ideas about how they want to be written. A friend of mine has had a story in his head, probably since he was a child. But how to write it? He had always loved stones, but given the infinite number of books about stones how could he do it in a way that no one else had? He went on and wrote other stories. Many other stories over a long period of time. His stories were loved by readers. Some of them won prizes and he became a well known and successful author. He still hadn’t written the stone story. But it had not gone away. It was always there. In his mind and in his imagination it was bubbling along quietly, patiently biding its time.

Much research. A studio full of examples. Stones and books about stones of every imaginable size, shape and colour were accumulating in his writing space. And the words were accumulating too. Discussions with friends, colleagues, even strangers took place. Then a chance meeting and an almost despairing remark to a young fan. ‘I think I’ve worked out how to write the stone book now, but I’m worried that no one will want to read it.’ And the immediate response, ‘I will.’

Of course it wasn’t as easy or as simple as that. But sometimes a connection like that, the thought of even one fan, one like-minded person waiting out there for a special book, is enough to keep us going. Enough to convince us it is worth another try. We are all grateful for your perseverance, your knowledge and your insight. Thank you Mark.

The tower on the east wing of the Chateau de Freycinet

I love it when readers contact me, no matter what the reason. I especially love it when they are asking for help with their own research. I find the research aspect of writing historical fiction the most fascinating, time-consuming, frustrating, but totally engrossing task and I welcome any excuse to revisit it.

Since 2010, when Black Jack Anderson was first released, I have been asked by film and documentary makers, journalists and others to help them with their research into the life of Australia’s most notorious pirate. Many of their projects have eventually come to fruition, although not always in the way we expected at the time. But even if they come to nothing those requests have allowed me to revisit that earlier research and re-connect with the characters and places in that story. Almost invariably more information has become available in the time that has elapsed since I did my research, which is also exciting. The more we know about it the better we understand our shared past.

This week I have had the joy of revisiting (in my photo file) the Chateau de Freycinet, situated  outside the village of Saulces-sur-Rhone in the south of France, and looking again at the childhood home of Louis de Freycinet. This is also the place where Louis and his new bride, Rose, lived for roughly two years before setting off in the corvette, Uranie, on their epic voyage around the world (1817 – 1820). What a joy it is to once again enter their world of excitement, danger, extreme hardship and amazing discoveries.

You too can visit the Chateau de Freycinet. To See the World is published by NLA Press, Canberra.

TLC is often used as an acronym for ‘tender loving care’, which I have always thought appropriate for The Literature Centre, where the annual Celebrate Reading Conference was held over this last Friday and Saturday. Always stimulating and thought provoking, this year’s conference delivered some powerful and heartfelt emotions from presenters and delegates alike. Rarely seen on conference platforms elsewhere, the Celebrate Reading Conference seems to create such a supportive and nurturing atmosphere that even presenters who are nervous in front of an audience, become more and more relaxed as the two-day conference progresses. Over the eight years this Conference has been running people have frequently speculated about how this remarkable bonding effect is produced. My theory is that, apart from the hard work and dedication of the staff, there are physical aspects that predispose all the participants to developing strong friendships with each other.

Firstly there is the fact that the presenters, most of them coming from interstate, live, work, eat and socialise together in the Literature Centre’s own Residence. They already have children’s literature as a passion and a profession in common. And as they share sleeping, cooking and bathroom facilities, and the need to put the final touches to their imminent presentations, most of their inhibitions fall away – except for one or two that might be blamed on the resident ghost. By the end of their stay most of them have become firm friends.

Added to this is the fact that the delegates attending the Conference are also thrown together in an enclosed environment. The single stream format allows for all the delegates to be present for the many and varied sessions. They already share a passion for children’s literature and most of them work with children in some capacity. So many of them know each other, but once they enter the friendly and supportive atmosphere of TLC they too become relaxed. The stresses and rivalries of their outside lives seem to fall away as old acquaintances greet each other and new friendships are formed. Of course there is also wonderful food, which they don’t have to prepare, served during the breaks and wine and nibbles to relax with at each of the sundowners. These are absolute luxuries for busy people and certainly add to the ambiance while fuelling our minds and allowing us time for discussion, reflection and contemplation.

If you have never been to a Celebrate Reading Conference put it on your calendar immediately. It is held each year in late October/early November at The Literature Centre, http://www.thelitcentre.org.au

Waiting in the wings – fifty years on

Deep in the bowels of the Kalgoorlie Town Hall the basement walls are covered in graffiti. Layer on layer of names, dates and titles of plays, added over a period of ten years or so, criss-crossing, overlapping and jostling each other for space, but still legible. Eventually the Theatre above became too small for the population and a larger one was purpose built in the town. The High School play moved to more modern facilities. While the Town Hall building has been magnificently maintained and the theatre is still used for celebrity occasions, somehow the defacing of these massive walls has been allowed to remain untouched and now takes us back more than fifty years to those memorable evenings when rooky 17 and 18 year old actors waited nervously for their cue to step into the spotlight and play their part in the Year 12 play. The basement is enormous and yet the excitement and nervousness in this room is still palpable.

Visiting there last weekend I was reminded of the importance of written records in reviving memories. Even something as seemingly insignificant, even ugly, as graffiti has the power to revive such a wealth of feelings. Laughter, terror, friendships, old rivalries, create a window into that other self. That lost world of youth, energy, enthusiasm and lasting friendships, initially preserved by neglect, but brought back in such vivid detail after fifty years, by the marks on those walls.

What power the written word has to move us.

It’s a little known historical fact that without Clara Saunders Paddy Hannan would not have survived to discover the Golden Mile

After the intense concentration of two major edits, when everything has to be revisited and all the details of characters, plot, setting, grammar, style and syntax must be agreed upon, it was great to take a break, briefly, and go back out to the scene of the action; to soak up the atmosphere and relive the original story. Of course the town of Coolgardie, where the events of Goldfields Girl happened between 1892 and 1894, is very different today. The magnificent stone Warden’s Court Building, which was not yet built when Clara was there, is now one of the few remaining signs of the fabulous wealth and prosperity that gold brought to the town. However, if you step inside this imposing building you will immediately be transported back to that other world. The one where red dirt, backbreaking work and the struggle to survive without water greeted Clara every day – and yet she thrived.

In spite of the fortunes being won and lost around her, Clara’s life was a constant struggle. And yet  she loved it. She love the freedom, the challenge, the camaraderie that shared hardship often creates. There were regular dances, sing-a-longs, picnics and poetry readings. And she made life-long friends. In spite of their hard working, hard drinking lifestyle the miners and prospectors had their own rules. For the community to exist the means of survival had to be shared. Everyone was in the same situation and it was taken for granted that none of the locals would be allowed to starve or die of thirst. Illness and death were regarded as inevitable, but with courage, determination and a little help from their friends, it would be thwarted for as long as humanly possible. Most sustaining of all was the bush humour that was born, and continued to grow, out of this harsh landscape and the friendship of mates.

Even visiting Coolgardie today in a  modern hire-car with its own air-conditioning, one can not help marvelling at the imagination and inventiveness of those hardy pioneers. When you remember that everything to sustain life had to be carried for 168 miles to the new diggings, initially over trackless desert, or improvised from whatever could be scrounged or salvaged. From the smallest kitchen implements to the largest tools for mining and building, things were made by hand, cobbled together out of packing cases, wooden boxes, kerosene tins. But their hard work and imagination laid the foundations for many of the mind-boggling inventions that have transformed life on the goldfields.