The ability to quote is a serviceable substitute for wit.

The Hyrdo Building. Corner of Davey and Elizabeth Streets. July 2012.

Life & Times of Michael K by J.M.Coetzee is set in a vividly imagined South Africa of the 1970s that has descended into civil war. While the setting is important, the novel itself eschews discussions of race or class and concentrates on the journey of the titular character, a simple man whose life has been shaped by institutionalism from a very young age.

In this sense, Coetzee has opted for using an innocent as the central character. It's a tricky ploy, as the simpleton remains simple throughout and - for the reader at least - the state of purity, innocence and grace can be a limiting thing.

The story is told well, with a tale full of ugly and sad scenes, and very few glimmers of hope or beauty. Despite such scenes, it is quite a desolate book. There is only a vague, ominous sense of how bad things really are in the greater society and while Michael K. serves as the vehicle to paint this story of survival and isolation, 'simpleton' is perhaps not the most effective choice to portray the individual struggling against a society gone awry.

The innocent of course must stand above and beyond it all, untouched by the mortal sin. I enjoyed this book, but the underlying messages - ignore the world around you? Don't think? - does trouble me somewhat. B+

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Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral

There was nothing left. No reason, no conscience, no understanding; even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong.

Here is a self portrait. I’m calling it Portrait of a lady in a dirty window . Shocking, isn’t it? However, it is apt! Samhain , Nos Galan Gaeaf , Hop-tu-Naa , All Saints , All Hallows , Hallowmas , Hallowe'en or HALLOWEEN . It’s Theme Thursday and we’re talking about the festivals traditionally held at the end of the harvest season. Huh? No wonder Australians have trouble with the concept of HALLOWEEN. For the record, in my thirty-two L O N G years on the planet, I can’t say I’ve ever seen ghosts ‘n goblins, trick ‘n treaters or Michael Myers stalking Tasmania’s streets at the end of October. [That said, I did once see a woman as pale as a ghost turning tricks that looked like Michael Myers in late November one time.] Despite the best efforts of Hollywood, sitcoms, and innumerable companies; it seems Australians are impervious to the [ahem] charms of a corporatized variant of a celebration of the end of the "lighter half" of the year and beginning of the "darke

In dreams begin responsibilities.

A life at sea, that's for me, only I just don't have the BREAD. That's right, Theme Thursday yet again and I post a photo of a yacht dicking about in Bass Strait just off Wynyard. The problem is, I am yet again stuck at work, slogging away, because I knead need the dough . My understanding is that it is the dough that makes the BREAD. And it is the BREAD that buys the yacht. On my salary though, I will be lucky to have enough dough or BREAD for a half dozen dinner rolls. Happy Theme Thursday people, sorry for the rush.

This will hurt me...

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