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“She wonders if the White people understand that most Wirayuri men know how to work with the river and the land, even in times of flood. That the Marrimbidya is not something to be afraid of. Rather the bila is to be respected and relied upon for food, for transport, for life. That the men have been brave and smart.”

  Towards the end of the day, Tasman National Park, Tasmania. May 2021. Bila Yarrudhanggalangdhuray by Anita Heiss  I hope that  Bila Yarrudhanggalangdhuray  – “River of Dreams” in the Wiradjuri language – is but the first of many novels from the perspective of Australia’s original inhabitants as they confront the realities of invasion, colonisation and the calculated efforts to destroy over 50,000 years of continuous culture. This is the kind of book that I hope is (gently) introduced to younger readers and comes as a welcome relief from the self-mythologising nonsense that passes for historical memory in these parts. Heiss has woven a story through both a gendered and Wiradjuri lens that never seems forced or moralising. It follows many of the familiar patterns of the historical fiction romance, but in framing the central characters within the Wiradjuri cultural and linguistic tradition, what may have been a traditional tale is lifted into much more worthy territo...

"The Impressions remaining from earlier Injuries are kept up by the occasional Outrages of Miscreants whose Scene of Crime is so remote as to render detection difficult; and who sometimes wantonly fire at and kill the Men and at others pursue the Women, for the purpose of compelling them to abandon their Children."

  A pair of pandanis, Lake Dobson, Mt Field National Park, Tasmania, April 2021. Van Diemen's Land by James Boyce This book is a worthwhile addition to the works on the early history of what is now called Tasmania. With a primary focus on the first generation of invaders - both convicts and colonisers - while somewhat saddened to find that it is a bit light-on in detail on the island's original inhabitants, the brief glimpse we get is sound. Of more central focus, Boyce explores the significance of the convict presence to the evolution of Van Diemen’s Land. He helps explain the strange  Weltanschauung  that compelled a tiny group of landowners to expunge both convict and Aboriginal from the formal records and popular memory. Such efforts - including the renaming of the island to Tasmania in 1856 - were not without success. However, I think that Boyce is correct when he observes that "Van Diemen's Land never vanished but, by edict of an embarrassed ruling class, it wen...

“We gave up on that Payback stuff a long time ago, because we always knew that death is only one part of a story that is forever beginning …”

  Looking southwest from Cape Raoul, Tasman National Park. May 2021. Taboo by Kim Scott Kim Scott has achieved a great feat with  Taboo . In tackling a subject so replete with immense themes - decolonisation, pain, the art of memory and forgetting - he manages to toe the line successfully like few others. Moreover, he's written an authentic and engaging book on the murder, dispossession and maltreatment of the Noongar people that is at once sombre yet optimistic. This is all the more startling from a book saturated with violence of all kinds. Violence upon violence over generations to the point where our heroes are both sullied by that violence - both perpetrators and victims - and retain the redemptive power that will be required to ensure that a persecuted people can both survive and prosper. Australia has now reached the 'truth-telling' phase of real reconciliation. After two centuries of colonial dispossession, repression masked as harmony and silent shame, this is a no...

“Not that Harry said any of these things or anything at all. Not that Harry even had words for what he thought. But Harry felt it and he felt it as a flame that consumed his body.”

The Tarn Shelf. Mount Field National Park, April 2021. Death of a River Guide by Richard Flanagan A strange thing this, Flanagan's first novel. There are moments of sublime beauty in which the rugged Tasmanian west is at once a critical character as it the creator of life and deliverer of death. Beginning with the moment of local river guide Aljaz Cosini's death, the book unravels through a series of flashbacks, imaginings, visions and hallucinations. From here, we travel backwards to Aljaz's birth, then further back to the births, lives and deaths of his forebears. From here, we jump back and forth across time and place, occasionally revisiting Alijaz in the split second of his death as the story plays out. Make no bones about it; the book can be hard going at times. Filled with magical thinking and allusions to Tasmanian history's hard and dark tales, our narrator stands in place for the State. The mongrel stock of convict and free settler, of immigrant and a darker ...

"Who knows but that England may revive in New South Wales when it has sunk in Europe."

Fish of the Great Barrier Reef, Agincourt Reef, Far North Queensland. April 2021. Banks by Grantlee Kieza The strongest elements of this rich and detailed biography are those during the defining period of Banks' life and career: his voyage with James Cook's expedition to the south Pacific Ocean aboard HMS Endeavour from 1768 to 1771. I particularly enjoyed the section on their visit to far north Queensland (I happened to be visiting while reading the book). The tensions between the young Banks and Cook regarding the latter's brusque approach to the native peoples was enlightening and foretold both Cook's eventual fate and the subsequent treatment of Australia's original inhabitants. Much like Banks' life after returning to England, the book tends to drift with occasional flashes of colour. I was less interested in the internal politics of the Royal Society or Banks' love life than I was in the exploration of the new world. While Cooks' latter voyages, t...

“You want to see a very bad man? Make an ordinary man successful beyond his imagination. Let’s see how good he is when he can do whatever he wants.”

Sunrise. Newell Beach, Far North Queensland. April 2021. Pachinko by Min Jin Lee An old-fashioned epic family tale that spans eighty-odd years in the lives of a small group of the Korean diaspora in Japan. While it felt somewhat contrived in parts, the soap-opera elements did not detract from my enjoyment. While I did find the sudden jumps in time periods or character standpoints somewhat jarring, I appreciate that covering the breadth of characters, events and emotions sometimes requires a little shorthand. Well worth the effort! ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

“One young boy, asked what he wanted to be when he grew up, a fireman or pilot or such, answered: "Alive.”

  Jen on the beach. Ellis Beach, Far North Queensland. April 2021. The Splendid and the Vile: A Saga of Churchill, Family and Defiance During the Blitz by Erik Larson  There has with no doubt been a great deal of work and fine scholarship put into this book, and to that, I will credit Larson. Yet too often, I find that anything that touches upon Churchill drifts too easily into the hagiographic, which I do not understand. There is plenty here that showcases the flaws of the man and his temperament - consider the impetuous way with which he pursued the frankly ridiculous idea of air landmines (at who knows what opportunity costs) or the taste for luxury in a time of extreme deprivation. In total, are we really supposed to overlook these flaws because of... why exactly? That he was prone to cry? I confess that I don't get it. I found the boorish tales of his family living it up while men were dying in huge numbers; the British public was going without, and the Empire's colonial...

“So there you have it: two things & I can't bring them together & they are wrenching me apart. These two feelings, this knowledge of a world so awful, this sense of a life so extraordinary—how am I to resolve them?”

  Seagull on a chimney (I know, I know, it's serious), Hobart, March 2021. Gould's Book of Fish: A Novel in Twelve Fish   by Richard Flanagan Where to start with this odd beast? We start with a caution that our (initial) narrator cannot be trusted. From here, we enter into his reconstruction of a text that our untrustworthy narrator warns is one of another unreliable narrator. Master Gould (sic) is most insistent in his testimony that the reader cannot trust his account. In this remarkable and peculiar novel, Flanagan explores the nature of memory, history and the very grand stories that individuals and nations console themselves. What is 'true' much depends upon who is asking and what is it they wish to hear. In this, the history of Van Diemen's Land presents exceptional fodder. More succinctly, it is a tale of a bullshitter. The narrator is a bullshitter in love with bullshitting. In that, he understands that bullshit is all that we can ever have. From here, the r...

“You could never convince a monkey to give you a banana by promising him limitless bananas after death in monkey heaven.”

Monster on Bathurst Street. West Hobart, February 2021. Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind by Yuval Noah Harari Interesting enough, but I suspect that I am not Harari's core target audience. I was already familiar with a lot of the work referenced here. While he has managed to weave an interesting arc that runs through the interconnected research, there were points in which my confidence with the linkages made was stretched rather taut! For one, I'd treat his certainty in terms of biological determinism with a significant grain of salt. The book - in my opinion - frequently tends to underplay social determinants to the detriment of the overall thesis. That said, it is certainly worth exploring and makes a significant contribution to the mainstream understanding of the emergence of our species. Still, I'd ensure going to the primary source material if you were looking to make a substantial academic case. ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ 1/2

There is naught so vile as a fickle tongue.

Ruins #1. Coal Mines Historic Site, Saltwater River. Tasman Peninsula. August 2013. As you know, the Internet is a wonderful place filled with the rich and varied treasures of the world holds (and RSS feeds.) The following are some things that I've had a look at in the last week. I call this: a Compendium of Click-throughs for Monday Morning... Science Confirms: Politics Wrecks Your Ability to Do Maths. On why Minecraft is more than just another video game. How apt. HERE COMES A VICTORY OF SHIT. Secret disguises of the Stasi. Genius and talent: The distinction has become blurred. But talent is commonplace; genius is inexplicable, innate, and exceedingly rare… The Masters of Nature Photography book – in pictures. The Women of the Afghanistan War. In perspective: the demands of work and fatherhood. Ruins #2. Coal Mines Historic Site, Saltwater River. Tasman Peninsula. August 2013.

A discovery is said to be an accident meeting a prepared mind.

Antarctic ice core sample. Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery, Hobart. February 2012. Sunday Top Five and this week I am mythbusting. Thus, I present My Top Five Common Misconceptions That Both Get My Goat And Frustrate Me Inordinately (This Week)! Sugar does not cause hyperactivity in children . Proven. Done. And. Dusted. Double-blind trials people . There is no difference in behavior between children given sugar-full or sugar-free diets. This is true even in those studies specifically looking at children with attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder or those considered sensitive to sugar. So please, other parents, stop saying this over and over and over and over again . Your kids behaviour has more to do with getting hyped up by other kids at the party than it does with the fairy bread... Napoleon Bonaparte was not short. Actually, he was a little bit taller than the average Frenchman. of his time. He actually stood 168.6 centimetres tall (5 feet 6 inches). The average height in the ...

It is a fine thing to be honest, but it is also very important to be right.

Why indeed... Top of Nanny Goat Lane, Battery Point. July 2011. You would think that a concept like 'Genocide' would be relatively straightforward. As always however, it is anything but. Like the seemingly perfect couple from a film who never managed to get it together, it's... complicated. Definitional war? Top of Nanny Goat Lane, Battery Point. July 2011.

The possession of a book becomes a substitute for reading it.

Home (to the left and upstairs) from mid-1996 until early-2002. Sandy Bay Road, Sandy Bay. July 2011. Two very different books this week. First up, Aharon Appelfeld's Badenheim 1939 is an odd, dreamlike novel set in an imagined Austrian resort town at the beginning of the Second World War as groups of middle-class Jews arrive to spend another idyllic summer vacation at an annual arts festival. There is a fair whiff of Kafka in Appelfeld's restrained prose, and the incongruity of the characters’ struggle to maintain (simulate?) normality against the intimations of the approaching catastrophe. Although the reader has no choice but factor in the impending Holocaust as both the historical backdrop as well as its imaginative focus, the author deftly does so from surreptitiously and achieves a subtlety that you would think impossible. The awkward ignorance of what is to come for the vacationers dominates this book. Spring is in the air and summer is about to blossom as the vast rang...

Adventures are to the adventurous.

A bacon and egg roll and we’ll just wait and see what happens. Campbell Street, Hobart. January 2011. History – and historical memory – can be an odd business. It is hard to get a sense when you are in the present of the true historical magnitude of the events taking place around you. Conversely, it’s nigh on impossible to comprehend truly the importance of events that happened with the distance of time between you and it/them, removed as you are from the proper context. That does not stop us from trying of course. You may have seen the (most recent) attempt to tally up the views (and scores) of British historians along a set of criteria and deduce the “best” President of the United States . It is an interesting exercise, and makes for some great arguments (you can read all about it here), but ultimately it strikes me as being a bit of a futile exercise. While I will confess to be an FDR fan, I really couldn’t tell you if he was really X percent superior to (say) Grover Cleveland; or ...

Failure too is a form of death.

Someone has put some wood in this wall! The Theatre Royal, Hobart. December 2010. Two books, both written within the same period, with similar themes, but both very different from each other. The first is Defeat Into Victory by William Slim. Bill Slim, or – to give him his proper title – Field Marshal William Joseph Slim, 1st Viscount Slim, KG, GCB, GCMG, GCVO, GBE, DSO, MC, KStJ, has been described by some as perhaps the greatest commander of the twentieth century. Defeat into Victory is his account of the retaking of Burma by Allied forces during the Second World War first published in 1956. Slim was the commander of the British 14th Army that, in concert with American and Chinese forces, defeated the Imperial Japanese Army during the Burma Campaign. But don’t let that put you off! Slim's most notable characteristic is his lack of ego. Unlike many (most?) other accounts of this type, Slim consistently makes reference to his mistakes, errors in planning or judgement, and his def...

I have always looked upon decay as being just as wonderful and rich an expression of life as growth.

History can be found anywhere. Elizabeth Street, Hobart. September 2010. Here you can see a ye olde time billboard (e?), advertising a long-since departed service station in Elizabeth Street, right smack bang in the middle of town. These days, you will struggle to find a service station anywhere that close to the CBD, they’ve all been bought up and converted into alcohol outlets (I kid you not). One day, I wonder what people will make of what we have done to our city.

A man's dying is more his survivor's affair than his own.

Matthew Forster knew where the bodies were buried. St Johns Park, New Town. July 2010. Theme Thursday , and I am dwelling on death and memory. Matthew Forster got this obelisk for his hard work, I'd rather a nice ARECACEAE...

I want a true history of my city

10 Murray: to be crucified at the alter of good taste , April 2010. A large - if not the central - part of the reason that I would not like 10 Murray to go is explained by the following poem. I want a true history of my city, not an airbrushed, tourist-friendly, blandishments dominant theme park of convicts, sandstone and trees. PLEA FOR A HISTORY OF WORKING-CLASS LEEDS , by Barry Tebb I want a true history of my city FUCK THE DE LACY FAMILY AND DOUBLE FUCK JOHN OF GAUNT ESPECIALLY And all his descendants With their particular vilenesses - I met one in the sixties Who had all the coldness of Himmler So svelte and adored by the cognoscenti. I want a history responsive To the needs of the working-class One that will minute the back-to-backs Spread over the city like a seamless robe SO FUCK CUTHBERT BRODERICK’S TOWN HALL BRIDEWELL AND MAGISTRACY. I want a history of the culture Of the working class and not Hoggart’s slimy gone-up-in-the-world Jabber for the curious bourgeoisie He was es...

History has to live with what was here

Lieutenant Thomas Burnett arrived at Hobart Town, Van Diemen’s Land on 6 January 1837 aboard the barque Fairlie , accompanying Captain Sir John Franklin who was taking up his appointment as Lieutenant-Governor of the colony. Unfortunately for Burnett, his stay in Tasmania was but a brief one. He drowned on 21 May 1837 when his whaler ran into a spot of weather Bruny Island in D’Entrecasteaux Channel. The photo above is the monument to Burnett, utilising the stone plinth imported from England which was to have been the main stand for an observatory for the man. Bummer. He was thirty-one. History , by Robert Lowell History has to live with what was here, clutching and close to fumbling all we had-- it is so dull and gruesome how we die, unlike writing, life never finishes. Abel was finished; death is not remote, a flash-in-the-pan electrifies the skeptic, his cows crowding like skulls against high-voltage wire, his baby crying all night like a new machine. As in our Bibles, white-faced, ...

Never fight an inanimate object.

Tasmanian seagulls and spiders show their appreciation to John Franklin's statue, April 2010. It is one of the [many] downsides to being immortalised in statue, the birds' appreciation. If I am going to be worshipped long after my death, I'd want something a little more classy than a bit of iron for the seagulls to crap on. Maybe a pyramid? The Taj Mahal? A day of the week? How would you want to be remembered?