Richard Flanagan

I went to Noosa last night and heard Richard Flanagan talk. He wrote The Unknown Terrorist (see my comment on this blog on 14 January 2007). He was very good and spoke of his concern for what had happened to Australia over the past 10 or 12 years. This concern and even anger had motivated him to write this novel which he hoped might make some people question the erosion of independent thought and action that was happening. The intolerance of difference, the blind following of the USA, the exploitation of fear and the corruption of the democratic and judicial process made for a pretty dismal perspective. Fortunately Richard saw hope and was able to point to the demise of other repressive times. He talked about his personal experience of the Thatcher years in the UK. The trouble with the inevitable passing of tough times is the poor bastards that have to suffer before the pendulum swings the other way. At least we can be confident that the worst of the Howard years may be gone and the a more caring and compassionate Australia may soon reappear. Still our travails are as nothing compared to Zimbabwe or the Sudan.
Richard seemed like a good bloke who was generous in his time and conversation with all who waited to have books signed.

Cullen Bullen Visit

I have just spent nearly a week with my brother, Michael, and his wife, Beth, on the farm at Cullen Bullen (photo). This is my old home town and I still have 200 acres there which was part of the original family farm. As usual it was an insight into the busy and demanding life of farming. In four days: we shifted cattle from paddocks many kilometers apart including across a major highway and a railway line with all the frustrations and hazards that entailed; we vaccinated, drenched and weighed about 120 steers; several steers were dehorned; the vet came and treated two steers for pneumonia and gave no hope to a 650 Kg bullock that had an infected foot and leg and so had to be shot; my brother organized a likely lot of greyhound dog owners to come and butcher the beast and remove all bits of the carcass and they gave him $50 for a beast that was worth $1000 (and so it goes....); 25 tonne of fertilizer was spread by two huge trucks; Michael finished sowing a 60 acre paddock of oats with the necessary lifting of 40Kg bags of super onto the seed drill; I sprayed out about 700 litres of poison onto blackberries; we erected an electric fence to protect a 5 acre patch of oats from cattle in the same paddock; and we made several trips to nearby Portland for necessary supplies. In between there were a couple of appointments to be kept, Beth was making daily trips to Lithgow to visit her sick Mum and cakes had to be cooked for the cake stall on Saturday to coincide with polling day. WOW!! But it was beautiful to sit on the back verandah in the evening and have a beer and watch the setting sunlight bounce off the magnificent sandstone cliffs across the paddocks to the east.

Cullen Bullen Visit

I have just spent nearly a week with my brother, Michael, and his wife, Beth, on the farm at Cullen Bullen (photo). This is my old home town and I still have 200 acres there which was part of the original family farm. As usual it was an insight into the busy and demanding life of farming. In four days: we shifted cattle from paddocks many kilometers apart including across a major highway and a railway line with all the frustrations and hazards that entailed; we vaccinated, drenched and weighed about 120 steers; several steers were dehorned; the vet came and treated two steers for pneumonia and gave no hope to a 650 Kg bullock that had an infected foot and leg and so had to be shot; my brother organized a likely lot of greyhound dog owners to come and butcher the beast and remove all bits of the carcass and they gave him $50 for a beast that was worth $1000 (and so it goes....); 25 tonne of fertilizer was spread by two huge trucks; Michael finished sowing a 60 acre paddock of oats with the necessary lifting of 40Kg bags of super onto the seed drill; I sprayed out about 700 litres of poison onto blackberries; we erected an electric fence to protect a 5 acre patch of oats from cattle in the same paddock; and we made several trips to nearby Portland for necessary supplies. In between there were a couple of appointments to be kept, Beth was making daily trips to Lithgow to visit her sick Mum and cakes had to be cooked for the cake stall on Saturday to coincide with polling day. WOW!! But it was beautiful to sit on the back verandah in the evening and have a beer and watch the setting sunlight bounce off the magnificent sandstone cliffs across the paddocks to the east.

Aussie Values - Good Value???

I just saw an item on TV showing Fred Nile, under a huge banner with the Australian Flag and the words AUSSIE VALUES, calling for a halt to Muslim migration until it can be established that the existing 300,000 Australian Muslims can be vouched for as worthy Aussies. Stone the bloody crows!!! When jingoism, racism and Christian self
righteousness collide they make for a perverse mix.

Then there was the standard 60 Minutes piece which once again talked of Aussie Values being freedom, mateship, patriotism, resilience, optimism (the kind that begets ‘she’ll be right!’). The usual suspects were interviewed: the ex-convict (freedom); the soldier (mateship); the dynastic grazier (resilience and optimism); the migrant (the lot); the flag draped yobbo (patriotism to excess). Once again it was presented as if these values are the exclusive province of Australians. Somewhere in there I guess Aussie Values do reside but it is the misuse of them by anyone from politicians to ordinary people that really gets me. It’s such a copout to use Aussie Values as a weapon in any holier than thou attack on someone whose difference you can’t handle. When you look at the daily examples of ALL sorts of people behaving contrary to the Aussie Values that we all think identify us a Aussies then you realize they are more an ideal than a real thing. The unprovoked bashings, the corruption, the executive crime, the ridiculous salaries that company CEOs get paid, the preference for vested interests, the rip offs and exploitation, the road rage, the obscene defences lawyers mount for vermin, etc. etc etc. all have nothing to do with fair go and mateship and tolerance and all the rest that we think typically characterize Australians. Values are a very mixed bag and open to all sorts of interpretation, use and misuse. Some will think I'm guilty of all three right here.

Great Book: My Secret River

The Secret River by Kate Grenville (2006) (334pp)

This is a fabulous book. It’s about a convict, Will Thornhill, sent from the slums of London to Sydney in its earliest days. It recreates his experience in trying to get a small farm going on the banks of the Hawkesbury. The difficulties and challenges he faces trying to achieve his dream are formidable and Grenville enables us to identify with them. By far Grenville’s greatest achievement is to capture the interaction between the enthusiastic and determined interloper, Thornhill, and the local inhabitants and users of the land, the Aborigines. Even though the author reminds us that this is a work of fiction, her research and the resonance with facts we already know of black/white history make this story a sobering read. I was left with a sense of admiration for the tenacity with which many early settlers tried to carve a living from the wilderness. Yet this was tempered by reflection on the cost to the indigenous population of the suffering imposed by white men with their guns and disease and righteousness.
By coincidence I am now reading Aboriginal Victorians by my good mate Richard Broome and he brings a scholarly treatment to the sweep of white settlers through Victoria in the 19th century. It is inevitable that I have Grenville’s Thornhill in the back stalls of my mind as I read Richard’s rich and often depressing historical account. I’ll write more about his history when I finish it.