The difference between literature and journalism is that journalism is unreadable and literature is not read.

It's a long way to the top (if you want to rock 'n roll). Liverpool Street, Hobart. December 2011.

A couple of books this week as we near the end of the year. These two represent numbers 98 and 99 for the year and I should finish Martin Amis's Times Arrow shortly to crack the hundred!

First Love by Ivan Turgenev was first published in 1860 and concerns the memory of the narrator’s first love. I have read that the novel is regarded as a Russian 'classic' and an important book in teaching young Russians. The conclusion itself is masterfully done, not really a surprise as such, but it does force the reader to reassess what had happened up to that point.

While the romantic tensions inherent in First Love might seem somewhat naive to present sensibilities, it has a restrained charm that makes it an enjoyable read. Highly recommended.

The second book is Revolutionaries is a collection of reviews and essays by Marxist historian Eric Hobsbawm written through the 1960s. I have read most of these before, but not much since Henry has been around.

There’s no doubt that Hobsbawm's style is among the most accessible and lively of historians, and Revolutionaries covers all sorts of topics related revolution, high politics and (or course) socialism. As with any such collection, the quality varies a bit, but it is generally high. Obviously the content is somewhat dated (the world has changed a little since 1968), but there remain some really pertinent points.

For example, the essay on Vietnam – first published in 1965 just as the United States was escalating its commitment of troops – succinctly and presciently maps out the reasons why the victory of the Vietnamese Communists was inevitable. In many respects, *some* of this logic can be extended to the Afghanistan situation today.

So, if you are into that sort of thing, this should be well worth picking up and giving a go.

Hold me now, oh hold me now, until this hour has gone around. And I'm gone on the rising tide, to face Van Dieman's Land

Theme Thursday again, and this one is rather easy. I am Tasmanian, you see, and aside from being all around general geniuses - as I have amply described previously - we are also very familiar with the concept of WATER. Tasmania is the ONLY island state of an ISLAND continent. That means, we're surrounded by WATER. That should help explain why I take so many photographs of water . Tasmania was for a long time the place where the British (an island race terrified of water) sent their poor people most vile and horrid criminals. The sort of folk who would face the stark choice of a death sentence , or transportation to the other end of the world. Their catalogue of crimes is horrifying : stealing bread assault stealing gentlemen's handkerchiefs drunken assault being poor affray ladies being overly friendly with gentlemen for money hitting people having a drink and a laugh public drunkenness being Irish Fenian terrorist activities being Catholic religious subversion. ...

But when the strong were too weak to hurt the weak, the weak had to be strong enough to leave.

Can you believe that it is time for Theme Thursday already? Today we are not talking chocolate , toddlers , mess or ignominy . No, today we're dealing with ANIMAL . Now I could have posted a picture of a possum, numbat, wombat, wallaby or any other furry killing machine that roams our fair isle, but I figure that I'd use a far more deadly creature as an example of an animal . Some people - I know them as fools - have chosen to embrace that highfalutin idea that human beans are for some ungodly reason superior to animals. Of course, what these imbeciles seem to forget is that were are simple animals ourselves ! Anyone with a baby, toddler, teenage boy or Queenslander in their household could tell you this. Look at Henry [above]. One chocolate frog in the back of the car on a sunny day and all of a sudden it's Elagabalus meets Bacchus for a quick shandy in the Serengeti and we're down on all fours carrying on like a cat in heat. Fair dinkum, anyone who chooses to ...

Something unpleasant is coming when men are anxious to tell the truth.

This is the moon. Have I mentioned how much I adore the zoom on my camera? It's Theme Thursday you see, and after last week's limp effort, I have been thinking about how I might redeem myself. Then I clicked on the topic and discover that it was BUTTON. We've been hearing a lot about the moon in the past couple of weeks. Apparently some fellas went up there and played golf and what-not forty-odd years ago. The desire to get to the moon, however, was not simply about enhancing opportunities for Meg and Mog titles and skirting local planning by-laws in the construction of new and innovative golf courses. No, all of your Sputniks , "One small steps" and freeze dried ice cream was about one thing , and one thing only : MAD Now, I don't mean mad in terms of "bloke breaks record for number of scorpions he can get up his bum", no I mean MAD as in Mutual assured destruction . When I was a young man you see, there was a lot of talk about the type of m...

This will hurt me...

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