Monthly Archives: April 2014

Congratulations ‘Forgotten Rebels’

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Congratulations Clare Wright on winning the Stella Prize for her book  The Forgotten Rebels of Eureka.  You can read my review here.

And well done her, too, for donating $2500 each to the Indigenous Literacy Foundation and her local high school, Northcote High.  This is the second time this week where I’ve read of donations/fundraising going to public schools- the other was an article yesterday about leading chefs contributing to  school cookbooks for local state-run schools.   This is the cultural (as well as financial!) capital that private schools trade on and government schools lack.  Good on them.

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Banyule Homestead- the movie!

A promotional video by Jellis Craig for Banyule Homestead. Good to see that beautiful young woman reading Don Garden’s “Heidelberg: The Land and Its People 1838-1900″ while she reclines beside the pool. I like to think that she’s learning about the history of Banyule Homestead.

Interesting to consider the message that’s being conveyed by this video. I have spent more time than I’d like to admit looking at the other Jellis Craig videos and I’m struck by the emptiness of the houses they show. This is the only one that I’ve seen (and believe me, I’ve had enough of looking!) that actually shows a person in the house.

More on Banyule Homestead at http://banyulehomestead.wordpress.com

Two Pops and The Kid

For months now there’s been an advertisement in Saturday’s papers for a SMSF seminar featuring Max Walsh and Daryl Dixon from Dixon Advisory.  It’s always caught my eye: that nice young woman and those two, friendly twinkly old blokes who look a lot like my father.  Youth and experience….that’s what we want!

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But yesterday- What’s happened??? Where’s she gone? Now we have a nice young man instead.  The Pops seem just as chuffed though.

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Oh no!  Where’s the ‘youth’ gone after just one day? Now we only have experience….

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I open next week’s paper with trepidation.

Off to the Anzac Day footy

It’s a beautiful, 20 degree late autumn Anzac Day, so off to the footy we go….

No, not that confected, corporate spectacle at the MCG- we’re off to the REAL footy down at Warringal Park with the Heidelberg Tigers playing the Northcote Park Cougars.

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Real footy. Where ‘the boys’ are all called Johnno and Jacko.  Where the numbers on the backs of jumpers go up to 71.  Where the cars still front-park around the oval and horns are tooted when a goal is kicked.  Where a bloke does his hammy and has to hobble off the field alone clutching the back of his leg, sit on the sidelines for a minute or two, then limp off to sit on the bench without a single trainer or physio [are any such people even attending?] in sight.

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Real footy.  Where at half time and three quarter time everyone streams onto the ground to have a bit of kick-to-kick or to crowd around to hear what the coach has to say.  Where the little league kids form a line and clap the team back onto the ground after half-time, before they go up to get a sausage and a drink, “only after yer tell Mum and Dad where y’are!”  Where the winning tickets for the slab of beer and the meat tray are displayed on the scoreboard, and the winner can pick them up at the bar. Where kids ride their bikes around the outside of the oval, where dogs are tethered on leads attached to the fence, where you can get a snag in bread for $2.50 and a VB that doesn’t come in a plastic cup.

You remember, real footy.   Go Tiges!!

‘Night Games’ by Anna Krein

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This book sits comfortably on the shelf that holds Helen Garner’s Joe Cinque’s Consolation, Chloe Hooper’s The Tall Man and indeed, Krein’s earlier book Into the Woods.  Like them, it starts with a court case as its springboard.  Here, it is the trial of Justin, a VFL player who hasn’t quite made it to the AFL standard, who is accused of rape after one of those numerous footy gang-bangs we read about.  They bubble up into the news, meet with momentary tut-tutting and ‘boys will be boys’ then submerge again until the next dreary occurrence.

Like Garner and Hooper before her, Krein sits in the courtroom, observing the procedures, watching the protagonists and their families, feeling her own sympathies being twisted and swayed by what is playing out before her.  “Playing” is the operative word here, because as observer, she is privy to what the jury is not: the blokey negotiation of what can and can’t be said in the court, and the effect of the enforced silences on the narrative that can be made to explain the events on the night of the crime.

For Justin may have been hanging around with the Collingwood Football Club big boys, but he wasn’t one of them.  At first the courtroom bulges with Eminent Legal People because there is a chance that Collingwood stars will be caught up in it, but once the involvement of The Club is negotiated, they depart.  Justin’s whole family will pay financially and dearly for the legal representation they are left with.

Justin’s family feel that Krein is on “their” side, but she is not completely.  Sarah, the rape victim, does not engage with her at all (as is her absolute right), but it does mean that the narrative of the book is somewhat slanted.

But Justin and Sarah and what happened that night are only one part of the book as it spins off into a broader exploration of sex, rape, power, celebrity and permission.  This is very much a join-the-dots exercise, as she narrates a series of sexual scandals that have arisen over recent years involving both AFL and NRL, all too many of which involve my own football team, St Kilda.  She teases out these threads even further by examining the treatment of women journalists in sporting culture (for example, Caroline Wilson on The Footy Show) and the ubiquitous Wives-and-Girlfriends who have their own reflected celebrity status.

In many places, she can find no definitive answers, only more questions. She often refers to “shades of grey”  (denoting uncertainty rather than That Book) both in her own response and in the issues that arise.  I must say that I found this rather frustrating.  Both Garner and Hooper, in their fore-mentioned books, also admit to “shades of grey” but somehow manage to come to some sort of definitive statement.  I don’t know that Krein ever does: she can say that there are connections and injustices here, but I’m not sure that she ties them together into an argument that you can take issue with.  You sense that she is dodging what she expects to be brickbats from feminists and football supporters, by raising questions and admitting uncertainty as a pre-emptive defence.

In recent weeks, the questions raised by this book have resurfaced with the publication of an article by The Secret Footballer, where he very much voices the arguments of the sporting fraternity: they (the women) are scrags and ask for it; what about permission etc. etc. etc.  [Interestingly, the article itself seems to have disappeared, but a commentary on the article survives here]. He says that what is driving change is not all the behavioural programs imposed by the clubs, or wider societal change, but fear of exposure through social media.  He never was involved in gang-bangs himself, he says, because he never did like to share his toys.  It’s rather chilling to hear all this voiced so definitely.  It reinforces everything that Anna Krein has written about in this book.

There’s a very good review of the book by Deb Waterhouse-Watson here.

I have posted this review on the Australian Women Writers Challenge website.

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Britsh Pathe on You Tube

Wot larks!  Here’s yet another way to avoid working on my thesis-  the British Pathe archive of newsreel footage has been released on You Tube.  You can see it here:

https://www.youtube.com/user/britishpathe

Pathe News started in Paris  and had opened a London branch by 1910.  The four-minute newsreels were issued bi-weekly and ran in cinemas as part of the mixture of features that were shown during a ‘night at the pictures’ .  They increased in length after 1918 and were silent until 1928.  It amazes me that they  were still in production until 1970.

‘Reflections on Biography’ by Paula R. Backscheider

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2001,  235 p. & notes

It’s not hard to find biographers writing about the act of researching a biography.  One of my favourite biographers, Richard Holmes has done it here and here, and there’s a whole literature on the theory and practice of biography. This book, however, looks at the writing of biography, rather than the researching of it. It concentrates on the creation of the biographical text as completed artefact, rather than the ‘journey’ that the biographer undertakes in an attempt to understand and convey the subject’s inner life.

In her preface, Paula Backscheider notes with frustration that reviewers of biographies often retell the subject’s life gleaned from the very biography that they are reviewing without engaging in questions of selection, organization or presentation. These questions are the focus of this book. Continue reading