Birthday week is over - and I enjoyed every minute of it; we (sisters, niece and nephew) should get together more often. (Maybe not the over-indulgence of alcohol, but I can now say I have tasted Moet and found it... hmmm.)
So I returned to the keyboard and work. Curious that over the past couple of months I've felt like I've been in a fugue state when it came to writing and editing. I don't know why, exactly - maybe it has something to do with the parent's illness and other concerns.
Today, at work, I was busily writing and researching a historical piece for museum. The time whizzed by, but I finally managed to finish - and wanted to start the next project. I have an ever-increasing list, of which most include tales of daring-do.
History is my refuge. Always has been, but until recently, I didn't realise how much. I've never found it stuffy or boring - that's in the way the author writes, or the teacher teaches. It's not just about dates - or it shouldn't be - but it's about the people and their affect on society, real and perceived.
Here I sit, in a small coastal town in Australia, yet where I live is directly connected to two of Britain's greatest naval heroes, Sir John Jervis and a young Captain under his command - none other than Horatio Nelson. Another connection is the Lady Denman ferry. It was built here, just up the road, and named after the wife of a Governor General, but more, Lady Gertrude Denman was instrumental in developing bush nursing in Australia, the Women's Institutes in England and the Land Armies of World Wars One and Two.
Of the three, Nelson is the most famous, but his career was guided and shaped by Jervis. Lady Denman is near forgotten, but she was instrumental in advancing women's rights on a global scale.
Much has been written about Nelson, but precious little on Jervis and Denman. In their time, they were dynamic, influential and hardworking. Jervis, for example, was recalled to command the Channel Fleet at age 70. He saw it as his duty, poor health or not.
I'm hoping to redress their vagueness in current history - at least in a small way - and use their virtues in my own writing; I think I already do, given my life-long love of history.
The past holds a wealth of inspiration from those famous and not-so-famous. To step back in time, is to step into the future, for heroes and villains abound. Every one a gem to a writer.
Showing posts with label History. Show all posts
Showing posts with label History. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Monday, May 02, 2011
O BLah
For too long have we seen pictures of Muslims celebrating the deaths of so-called 'infidels', of Jews and of victims of suicide bombs.
Now, it's our turn to celebrate.
I've been watching Al Jazeera and listening to a man who interviewed OBL (I didn't catch his name). He said that with every success, OBL became more vain, began to believe he was a new Messiah.
To me, he became a coward who believed his own press, who sent brain-washed people out to kill innocent people with only the promise of better things in the afterlife and for no other reason than they believed in different things. For ten years he hid - some hero - spent time in caves and on the run, but always with a 'do as I say, not as I do' attitude.
What he has caused to be done in this world is abhorrent; all the murders, the violence, the terror. All because the Saudis didn't want him to go after Saddam and chose the U.S. instead. All because he thought he single-handedly defeated the Russians and therefore Moscow. Thought himself special enough, he could destroy the U.S. and Washington. Yeah, not so much.
The fundamentalists will turn him into a martyr and continue to kill in his name. The West will continue to fight and kill the fundamentalists in the name of justice.
But for now, the scum-sucking bottom-feeder is dead.
Osama Bin Laden, is now O BLah.
Now, it's our turn to celebrate.
I've been watching Al Jazeera and listening to a man who interviewed OBL (I didn't catch his name). He said that with every success, OBL became more vain, began to believe he was a new Messiah.
To me, he became a coward who believed his own press, who sent brain-washed people out to kill innocent people with only the promise of better things in the afterlife and for no other reason than they believed in different things. For ten years he hid - some hero - spent time in caves and on the run, but always with a 'do as I say, not as I do' attitude.
What he has caused to be done in this world is abhorrent; all the murders, the violence, the terror. All because the Saudis didn't want him to go after Saddam and chose the U.S. instead. All because he thought he single-handedly defeated the Russians and therefore Moscow. Thought himself special enough, he could destroy the U.S. and Washington. Yeah, not so much.
The fundamentalists will turn him into a martyr and continue to kill in his name. The West will continue to fight and kill the fundamentalists in the name of justice.
But for now, the scum-sucking bottom-feeder is dead.
Osama Bin Laden, is now O BLah.
Monday, April 25, 2011
ANZACS
Today is ANZAC Day. It is a day of two halves: the Dawn Services around the world at various points of military import, and the afternoon games of AFL, NRL... and two-up down the pub.
The morning is for commemoration; the afternoon, for celebration. One for death, one for life.
It sums up the ANZAC spirit, where we will lower our heads to think of those who fought in foreign lands for freedom and never returned; then, it's a wake, the telling of tales of battles long won or lost and keeping the memory of fallen mates alive.
At the end of the First World War, the discussion turned to reparations and the punishment of Germany.
President Woodrow Wilson (who won the presidency on the promise not to enter the war) advocated generous terms for reparations. In a moment of supreme arrogance, he said to Australian Prime Minister, Billy Hughes (who once punched out a heckler during a campaign for conscription and was as aggrieved as any Australian over the catastrophic losses), "But you only speak for five million people." The offended Hughes snapped back, "I speak for 60,000 dead. For how many do you speak?"
There is no hierarchy on who lost more, every nation involved lost too many due to the military incompetence of those in charge. If Douglas Haig had actually seen the ground on which he sent thousands to fight, he might have developed a different strategy. But he didn't, content to stay at a chateau behind the lines and study out of date maps.
It is the bravery of those men who did their duty, even knowing it meant certain death, that we commemorate today. The sacrifice is not forgotten. As the warriors of all wars are honoured, we salute those who are still in the field, in Iraq, in Afghanistan, in East Timor and elsewhere.
And thank them all for their service.
The morning is for commemoration; the afternoon, for celebration. One for death, one for life.
It sums up the ANZAC spirit, where we will lower our heads to think of those who fought in foreign lands for freedom and never returned; then, it's a wake, the telling of tales of battles long won or lost and keeping the memory of fallen mates alive.
At the end of the First World War, the discussion turned to reparations and the punishment of Germany.
President Woodrow Wilson (who won the presidency on the promise not to enter the war) advocated generous terms for reparations. In a moment of supreme arrogance, he said to Australian Prime Minister, Billy Hughes (who once punched out a heckler during a campaign for conscription and was as aggrieved as any Australian over the catastrophic losses), "But you only speak for five million people." The offended Hughes snapped back, "I speak for 60,000 dead. For how many do you speak?"
There is no hierarchy on who lost more, every nation involved lost too many due to the military incompetence of those in charge. If Douglas Haig had actually seen the ground on which he sent thousands to fight, he might have developed a different strategy. But he didn't, content to stay at a chateau behind the lines and study out of date maps.
It is the bravery of those men who did their duty, even knowing it meant certain death, that we commemorate today. The sacrifice is not forgotten. As the warriors of all wars are honoured, we salute those who are still in the field, in Iraq, in Afghanistan, in East Timor and elsewhere.
And thank them all for their service.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Three lights out
Over the past week, we've lost three leading lights:
Film legend, Elizabeth Taylor. Liz won two Oscars and was named as the American Film Institute's number seven on the list of Female Film Legends. Her career spanned more than fifty years and she starred in films that were truly epic: Giant (1956), Cleopatra (1960), Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1958), Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966), The Taming of the Shrew (1967), and so many more. As an actress, she brought glamour to screen, as a private person, she worked diligently on social issues, like AIDS/HIV and transcended the scandals that surrounded her. She leaves behind a portfolio of impressive, timeless work.
Diana Wynne-Jones, author of Howl's Moving Castle which was made into a gorgeously rendered animated film by Hayao Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli. Her fantasy works have influenced many of today's writers, including the brilliant Neil Gaiman. She will be missed.
Geraldine Ferraro, Democratic congresswoman and the first woman vice-presidential candidate. She was a staunch supporter of women's rights and broke through many gender-based barriers and stands as an icon for those rights.
These three women all blazed their way through life and work with determination and enthusiasm for their chosen trades, regardless of hardships. We can all learn something from their lives and careers, and, if nothing else, never forget what they achieved, nor the influence they've had on generations of people.
Film legend, Elizabeth Taylor. Liz won two Oscars and was named as the American Film Institute's number seven on the list of Female Film Legends. Her career spanned more than fifty years and she starred in films that were truly epic: Giant (1956), Cleopatra (1960), Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1958), Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966), The Taming of the Shrew (1967), and so many more. As an actress, she brought glamour to screen, as a private person, she worked diligently on social issues, like AIDS/HIV and transcended the scandals that surrounded her. She leaves behind a portfolio of impressive, timeless work.
Diana Wynne-Jones, author of Howl's Moving Castle which was made into a gorgeously rendered animated film by Hayao Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli. Her fantasy works have influenced many of today's writers, including the brilliant Neil Gaiman. She will be missed.
Geraldine Ferraro, Democratic congresswoman and the first woman vice-presidential candidate. She was a staunch supporter of women's rights and broke through many gender-based barriers and stands as an icon for those rights.
These three women all blazed their way through life and work with determination and enthusiasm for their chosen trades, regardless of hardships. We can all learn something from their lives and careers, and, if nothing else, never forget what they achieved, nor the influence they've had on generations of people.
Tuesday, February 08, 2011
Epic fail and win
I joined the 100 million plus people watching the Superbowl and, true to form, picked the wrong side. Again. Go the Cowboys? she says in a weak voice.
So. Football is done and dusted for another year - and with the looming lockout, we might not get any games next season. Sigh. It's a good thing the rugby union starts in a couple of weeks. I'm just saying.
I'm multi-tasking at the moment: working on two books. One for a beta reader (sorry, S., it's coming, I promise!) and one for the museum for whom I do some work.
Now, the Lady Denman Heritage Complex is so named because of the main attraction: the ferry. Back in the day, all Sydney ferries were named for the wife of the Governor General. So ours is named after the wife of the fifth Governor-General's wife, Lady Gertrude Denman. The ferry was built by local builders and plied the waters of Sydney Harbour for nigh on seventy years before a community group managed to get the ferry back home.
It's not the only attraction, there's other stuff, too. But it is the ferry that's important.
One of the most frequently asked questions by visitors is "Who was Lady Denman?"
I'm a little disgruntled that the reply is usually, "The wife of the fifth Governor-General of Australia." Or "She named Canberra." Lady Denman was more, did more than most Australians realise.
So, I set about researching, with the aim of writing a few pieces for the newsletter. I got distracted last year by other stuff going into the newsletter, but I'm now back on track.
Everywhere I looked, the primary reference was Gervas Huxley's biography Lady Denman, G.B.E, 1884-1954 (Chatto & Windus, 1961) now out of print. I managed to track down a second-hand copy from Abe Books in New York (isn't the internet a wonderful thing?).
Today, the book arrived. It doesn't have a dust cover but it is in a good condition. I'll be using it in conjunction with other primary and secondary sources. My sense of satisfaction turned into a squee moment and a Holy Shit, followed by an OMG. Inside the cover is a bookplate, no big. On the opposite page is an inscription:
To Eve & Bert
with love
Judy Burrell
1961
Yeah, I know you're thinking 'so what?' So I'll just say, Judy Burrell was born, the Hon. Anne Judith Denman and married Lt-Col. Sir Walter Raymond Burrell, 8th Bt. She went by the name... Judy.
There are ways to check the provenance of the book, but I don't have access to the databases required - or how Eve and Bert knew Judy, but the scenarios are legion, if I want to try.
I'm just happy to have the text and to marvel at the universe for putting the book into my hands. It's almost as good as having Lady Denman sign it herself!
So. Football is done and dusted for another year - and with the looming lockout, we might not get any games next season. Sigh. It's a good thing the rugby union starts in a couple of weeks. I'm just saying.
I'm multi-tasking at the moment: working on two books. One for a beta reader (sorry, S., it's coming, I promise!) and one for the museum for whom I do some work.
Now, the Lady Denman Heritage Complex is so named because of the main attraction: the ferry. Back in the day, all Sydney ferries were named for the wife of the Governor General. So ours is named after the wife of the fifth Governor-General's wife, Lady Gertrude Denman. The ferry was built by local builders and plied the waters of Sydney Harbour for nigh on seventy years before a community group managed to get the ferry back home.
It's not the only attraction, there's other stuff, too. But it is the ferry that's important.
One of the most frequently asked questions by visitors is "Who was Lady Denman?"
I'm a little disgruntled that the reply is usually, "The wife of the fifth Governor-General of Australia." Or "She named Canberra." Lady Denman was more, did more than most Australians realise.
So, I set about researching, with the aim of writing a few pieces for the newsletter. I got distracted last year by other stuff going into the newsletter, but I'm now back on track.
Everywhere I looked, the primary reference was Gervas Huxley's biography Lady Denman, G.B.E, 1884-1954 (Chatto & Windus, 1961) now out of print. I managed to track down a second-hand copy from Abe Books in New York (isn't the internet a wonderful thing?).
Today, the book arrived. It doesn't have a dust cover but it is in a good condition. I'll be using it in conjunction with other primary and secondary sources. My sense of satisfaction turned into a squee moment and a Holy Shit, followed by an OMG. Inside the cover is a bookplate, no big. On the opposite page is an inscription:
To Eve & Bert
with love
Judy Burrell
1961
Yeah, I know you're thinking 'so what?' So I'll just say, Judy Burrell was born, the Hon. Anne Judith Denman and married Lt-Col. Sir Walter Raymond Burrell, 8th Bt. She went by the name... Judy.
There are ways to check the provenance of the book, but I don't have access to the databases required - or how Eve and Bert knew Judy, but the scenarios are legion, if I want to try.
I'm just happy to have the text and to marvel at the universe for putting the book into my hands. It's almost as good as having Lady Denman sign it herself!
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Go Us!
We're at it again and we've been doing it for years!
Australia Day has come around again and Aussies are all out backslapping, barbequeing, drinking, having citizenships ceremonies and generally celebrating.
Two hundred and twenty-three years ago, Captain Arthur Phillip and 11 ships with 1332 souls aboard sailed into Port Jackson to establish the first European settlement on Australian soil.
While the First Fleet first landed at Botany Bay, between 18-20 January 1788, it was decided the bay wasn't suitable for the establishment of the colony. There was no protection as it was an open bay, the trees (probably ironbark) proved too tough for the tools brought and there was no fresh water nearby. On the whole, not the best spot for a colony and little like the perfect place Captain Cook described.
Captain Phillip took a small party in boats and sailed up the coast. There, he found Port Jackson - named, but not explored by Cook. Phillip spent three days at Port Jackson and decided to move the colony.
He wasn't the only European looking around. On a scientific expedition, Jean-Francois de La Perouse had expected to find a settlement where he could repair his ships and re-provision. Instead, he found the convict fleet worse off than his ships. Although La Perouse and Phillip never met, some of the officers of both nations did have cordial conversations.
Captain Phillip moved the fleet to Port Jackson on 26 January 1788 and began construction on the colony at Sydney Cove, inside the harbour. The French hung about until early March before moving on.
Captain Phillip did not lose one ship on the 15,000 mile journey. Given the lack of proper medical care, the threat of scurvy, small ships, crammed conditions and rough oceans, the First Fleet's journey to Australia has to be one of the greatest sea voyages in maritime history. Yes, 48 people died along the way, but for the time, this was considered a win.
It must have been terrifying for the voyagers, travelling halfway around the world and not knowing what to expect once they arrived. Australia would be totally alien to them, with different trees, astonishingly weird animals - Botanist Joseph Banks compared the kangaroo to a giant mouse - bright, hot sunlight and wary indigenous people who knew more about the land than they ever would.
Today, we celebrate the sheer tenacity and courage of the First Fleet colonists and convicts. Today, we welcome new citizens from around the world, all of whom, throughout our history, have made Australia what it has become and what it will be.
Australia Day has come around again and Aussies are all out backslapping, barbequeing, drinking, having citizenships ceremonies and generally celebrating.
Two hundred and twenty-three years ago, Captain Arthur Phillip and 11 ships with 1332 souls aboard sailed into Port Jackson to establish the first European settlement on Australian soil.
While the First Fleet first landed at Botany Bay, between 18-20 January 1788, it was decided the bay wasn't suitable for the establishment of the colony. There was no protection as it was an open bay, the trees (probably ironbark) proved too tough for the tools brought and there was no fresh water nearby. On the whole, not the best spot for a colony and little like the perfect place Captain Cook described.
Captain Phillip took a small party in boats and sailed up the coast. There, he found Port Jackson - named, but not explored by Cook. Phillip spent three days at Port Jackson and decided to move the colony.
He wasn't the only European looking around. On a scientific expedition, Jean-Francois de La Perouse had expected to find a settlement where he could repair his ships and re-provision. Instead, he found the convict fleet worse off than his ships. Although La Perouse and Phillip never met, some of the officers of both nations did have cordial conversations.
Captain Phillip moved the fleet to Port Jackson on 26 January 1788 and began construction on the colony at Sydney Cove, inside the harbour. The French hung about until early March before moving on.
Captain Phillip did not lose one ship on the 15,000 mile journey. Given the lack of proper medical care, the threat of scurvy, small ships, crammed conditions and rough oceans, the First Fleet's journey to Australia has to be one of the greatest sea voyages in maritime history. Yes, 48 people died along the way, but for the time, this was considered a win.
It must have been terrifying for the voyagers, travelling halfway around the world and not knowing what to expect once they arrived. Australia would be totally alien to them, with different trees, astonishingly weird animals - Botanist Joseph Banks compared the kangaroo to a giant mouse - bright, hot sunlight and wary indigenous people who knew more about the land than they ever would.
Today, we celebrate the sheer tenacity and courage of the First Fleet colonists and convicts. Today, we welcome new citizens from around the world, all of whom, throughout our history, have made Australia what it has become and what it will be.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Back at it
We waved off the last of the visitors on Sunday and I returned to work today.
Not writing work - I'm organising the furniture so it can be more easily moved when the carpet peeps turn up - but my work at the moozeum. I didn't want to go; I have too much stuff to do, but once I got there, all the stress of the last few weeks fell away and I wallowed in historical research.
I sat in my shared office and checked over all the work I had to do and had missed since December. It all reminded of why I love history and why I'm at the museum. Regardless of the personalities I deal with, I can plug in the MP3 and get on with it. No telephones, no requests, no interruptions, just me and all those juicy databases I can explore in the pursuit of bringing a little known part of history to those interested.
There isn't much on Lady Gertrude Denman, for whom the museum is named - okay, it's actually the ferry, but the ferry was named after her. Most Australians know her as the woman who announced the name of our new capital city, Canberra. But she did so much more, did so much here and in England. Her husband, Lord Thomas Denman, Governor-General of Australia between 1911 and 1914 also has an interesting history and yet is almost consigned to the dustbin of history.
I need to write more fact sheets and finally get started on those extended pamphlets/books I've been planning for the museum. Other staff members are dealing with the local history stuff, but I'm more interested in the the people who shaped this country and have a local connection, in particular, the Denmans.
I haven't forgotten the fiction writing - I'm anxious to return to that, too - but with downstairs about to get a make-over, I've hit the pause button until next week.
Not writing work - I'm organising the furniture so it can be more easily moved when the carpet peeps turn up - but my work at the moozeum. I didn't want to go; I have too much stuff to do, but once I got there, all the stress of the last few weeks fell away and I wallowed in historical research.
I sat in my shared office and checked over all the work I had to do and had missed since December. It all reminded of why I love history and why I'm at the museum. Regardless of the personalities I deal with, I can plug in the MP3 and get on with it. No telephones, no requests, no interruptions, just me and all those juicy databases I can explore in the pursuit of bringing a little known part of history to those interested.
There isn't much on Lady Gertrude Denman, for whom the museum is named - okay, it's actually the ferry, but the ferry was named after her. Most Australians know her as the woman who announced the name of our new capital city, Canberra. But she did so much more, did so much here and in England. Her husband, Lord Thomas Denman, Governor-General of Australia between 1911 and 1914 also has an interesting history and yet is almost consigned to the dustbin of history.
I need to write more fact sheets and finally get started on those extended pamphlets/books I've been planning for the museum. Other staff members are dealing with the local history stuff, but I'm more interested in the the people who shaped this country and have a local connection, in particular, the Denmans.
I haven't forgotten the fiction writing - I'm anxious to return to that, too - but with downstairs about to get a make-over, I've hit the pause button until next week.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Window to the past
I admit it. I've been watching the Sharpe Series again. I wasn't going to, honest, but I saw a piece on Napoleon, with an actor reading from Captain Mercer, an artillery officer who wrote of his time during the conflict, and I had to revisit a more stark period in history.
The Regency era is noted for heroism and romanticism, with language that beautifully brushes over the brutality of war. The politics, the militarism, society, is all so different from what we have today. When aristocratic men bought their commissions, where noble sacrifice was the ultimate honour and ordinary soldiers were the 'scum of the earth', flogged or executed for misdemeanors and still fought for the King's shilling.
Life for ordinary folk was hard and brutal, poverty rife, and yet many men saw the army as a better option - if they survived the battle, then the loot was theirs to spend as they wished.
Even at the aristocratic level, women's rights were what their husbands gave to them - unless they were independently wealthy - and gossip was considered sport.
It's a fascinating part of history, of astonishing bravery. Standing in line, one-shot rifles facing an enemy in a similar formation, waiting for that bullet, the soldiers must have prayed very hard indeed for luck. It seems madness to march 'in good order' towards the enemy like that, into the teeth of cannon and hot lead. To be briefly mourned by colleagues and then buried quickly, without the accolades and respect soldiers of today receive was simply... the way it was.
The Industrial Revolution was yet two decades away (although some would argue it began in the late 1700s), classes were distinct between the aristocracy and the rest, politics was all about favours and royal connections more than what the politicians could do for the poor and the working class; and yet moves were afoot to change the face the industry even as class warfare was waged in Europe.
I suppose every 'Age' in history has its attractions for various reasons - at least, for me it does - but the modern era is more global and more difficult to distil because of the vast wealth of information combining to affect us all. Pre-20th century, individual nations' history is more easily understood because of the tyranny of distance and isolationism; post-20th century we are all interwoven politically, socially, economically, militarily - a global village where nations consult and act for a variety of reasons and makes the study of history that much more difficult.
History isn't simple any more, but for Richard Sharpe and those who, in reality, fought the Napoleonic Wars, his life is encapsulated by 'I do my duty, sir'. Concise and to the point. Not such a bad idea, even today.
The Regency era is noted for heroism and romanticism, with language that beautifully brushes over the brutality of war. The politics, the militarism, society, is all so different from what we have today. When aristocratic men bought their commissions, where noble sacrifice was the ultimate honour and ordinary soldiers were the 'scum of the earth', flogged or executed for misdemeanors and still fought for the King's shilling.
Life for ordinary folk was hard and brutal, poverty rife, and yet many men saw the army as a better option - if they survived the battle, then the loot was theirs to spend as they wished.
Even at the aristocratic level, women's rights were what their husbands gave to them - unless they were independently wealthy - and gossip was considered sport.
It's a fascinating part of history, of astonishing bravery. Standing in line, one-shot rifles facing an enemy in a similar formation, waiting for that bullet, the soldiers must have prayed very hard indeed for luck. It seems madness to march 'in good order' towards the enemy like that, into the teeth of cannon and hot lead. To be briefly mourned by colleagues and then buried quickly, without the accolades and respect soldiers of today receive was simply... the way it was.
The Industrial Revolution was yet two decades away (although some would argue it began in the late 1700s), classes were distinct between the aristocracy and the rest, politics was all about favours and royal connections more than what the politicians could do for the poor and the working class; and yet moves were afoot to change the face the industry even as class warfare was waged in Europe.
I suppose every 'Age' in history has its attractions for various reasons - at least, for me it does - but the modern era is more global and more difficult to distil because of the vast wealth of information combining to affect us all. Pre-20th century, individual nations' history is more easily understood because of the tyranny of distance and isolationism; post-20th century we are all interwoven politically, socially, economically, militarily - a global village where nations consult and act for a variety of reasons and makes the study of history that much more difficult.
History isn't simple any more, but for Richard Sharpe and those who, in reality, fought the Napoleonic Wars, his life is encapsulated by 'I do my duty, sir'. Concise and to the point. Not such a bad idea, even today.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Bastille Day
Ah, Bastille Day. The commemoration of the breaking into the Bastille Saint-Antoine fortress prison to free the prisoners. Considered the beginning of the French Revolution.
Enjoy your day.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Sensitive history
I've been working my ring off for past week on three pages. Yep, three pages of text for the webpage I'm working on. It's taken three weeks to complete nearly forty other pages for the site and downloadable fact sheets.
I need no approval for those pages, but I do for the three; see, they deal with Indigenous history and information and thus require cultural sensitivity. While that has been monumentally frustrating, it's also been an education.
When I was at school back in 19... blah, we were taught about Captain James Cook discovering Australia, Captain Arthur Phillips of the First Fleet, various governors and important white people who formed this nation. Nothing was ever taught about indigenous affairs and yet, they were an important part of our history.
Who knew, for example, that the Aborigines had a resistance group who tried to save their land from the English settlers and convicts?
Pemulwuy saw Cook lay claim to Terra Nullus, Empty Land, and to the arrival of the First Fleet. He understood what it meant and set about causing as much trouble as possible. To him, it was war, the British were invaders upon land sacred to his people and he led raids against the farms and farmers, for food and for revenge for the atrocities committed against his people.
In the end, in 1802, he was shot dead, his head removed and sent to England for scientific investigation. All up, 3000 Aboriginal body parts were sent as part of biological curiosity. Pemulwuy was a pest, a troublemaker, according to Governor King who signed the shoot-on-sight order for any Aborigines seen around the Parramatta area. Guns were always going to win out since the Aborigines brought spears to the fight.
The British did not see the land as being occupied. The definition of civilisation was settlement, and the indigenous people were wanderers, following the food, never setting up villages. The French and Dutch had already looked at the land and declared it harsh and worthless, moved on, although we still have Dutch and French names for suburbs or areas.
For more than a century, this country has been divided between the rights of Aborigines and those of British settlement. We're still divided, though to a much lesser degree: instead of a re-enactment of James Cook's arrival at Farm Cove, we have an Indigenous Woggan Ma Gule or Morning Ceremony at the site and celebrations of what it means to be Australian. The flag raising is more to do with celebrating citizenship than historic origins. History, it seems, is of little importance when bringing diverse ethnicities together.
I agree. Previous Australia Day celebrations were tainted by groups protesting 'Invasion Day'; but I don't think we should re-write or disregard the good or the bad of our history. Both are important and make us who we are today.
Prince William - recently in Australia - has announced that he will try to find Pemulwuy's head and the other remains. The indigenous fighter is a hero to the Aboriginal Nations here.
And this year for Anzac Day, commemorative ceremonies will be held for the 500-800 Indigenous personnel who served during the First World War. It's about time; a soldier is a soldier no matter his skin colour and should be treated with the same respect.
In the meantime, I need to get back to work; I have to finish this project before I can get to my editing. Thankfully, these three pages are the last of the big stuff, everything else is of the editing and formatting ilk.
I need no approval for those pages, but I do for the three; see, they deal with Indigenous history and information and thus require cultural sensitivity. While that has been monumentally frustrating, it's also been an education.
When I was at school back in 19... blah, we were taught about Captain James Cook discovering Australia, Captain Arthur Phillips of the First Fleet, various governors and important white people who formed this nation. Nothing was ever taught about indigenous affairs and yet, they were an important part of our history.
Who knew, for example, that the Aborigines had a resistance group who tried to save their land from the English settlers and convicts?
Pemulwuy saw Cook lay claim to Terra Nullus, Empty Land, and to the arrival of the First Fleet. He understood what it meant and set about causing as much trouble as possible. To him, it was war, the British were invaders upon land sacred to his people and he led raids against the farms and farmers, for food and for revenge for the atrocities committed against his people.
In the end, in 1802, he was shot dead, his head removed and sent to England for scientific investigation. All up, 3000 Aboriginal body parts were sent as part of biological curiosity. Pemulwuy was a pest, a troublemaker, according to Governor King who signed the shoot-on-sight order for any Aborigines seen around the Parramatta area. Guns were always going to win out since the Aborigines brought spears to the fight.
The British did not see the land as being occupied. The definition of civilisation was settlement, and the indigenous people were wanderers, following the food, never setting up villages. The French and Dutch had already looked at the land and declared it harsh and worthless, moved on, although we still have Dutch and French names for suburbs or areas.
For more than a century, this country has been divided between the rights of Aborigines and those of British settlement. We're still divided, though to a much lesser degree: instead of a re-enactment of James Cook's arrival at Farm Cove, we have an Indigenous Woggan Ma Gule or Morning Ceremony at the site and celebrations of what it means to be Australian. The flag raising is more to do with celebrating citizenship than historic origins. History, it seems, is of little importance when bringing diverse ethnicities together.
I agree. Previous Australia Day celebrations were tainted by groups protesting 'Invasion Day'; but I don't think we should re-write or disregard the good or the bad of our history. Both are important and make us who we are today.
Prince William - recently in Australia - has announced that he will try to find Pemulwuy's head and the other remains. The indigenous fighter is a hero to the Aboriginal Nations here.
And this year for Anzac Day, commemorative ceremonies will be held for the 500-800 Indigenous personnel who served during the First World War. It's about time; a soldier is a soldier no matter his skin colour and should be treated with the same respect.
In the meantime, I need to get back to work; I have to finish this project before I can get to my editing. Thankfully, these three pages are the last of the big stuff, everything else is of the editing and formatting ilk.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Ergo, Ergot
Between the years 1000-1400AD, Europe experienced an era of warmth and higher than average rainfall. This was the ‘Medieval Warm Period’.
During this time, populations and crops flourished. But by the end of this period, the Black Death decimated those same populations. Europe, after the epidemic passed, found itself with 30-60 percent less people. With less people to work in the fields, the fewer fields cultivated and the less food produced. Famine resulted in killing off more of the population. But famine was not uncommon in Medieval Europe, just more obvious after the Black Death.
Some estimates put the death toll at between 75-200 million people. As with all urbanisation, the close proximity of people led to the rapid spread of disease. Paris lost 100,000 – half its population, Florence more than half at 70,000 dead.
Before the Black Death arrived, another danger lurked in the warm, humid environment: fungus.
Bread wasn’t just a staple of the diet, it provided the plate, or trencher, as well. Following the meal, the bread trencher could be eaten, given to the poor or to farm animals. Unfortunately for the peasants of Europe, the warm, rainy weather gave rise to the Ergot fungi which grew on the rye and wheat crops.
Ergot poisoning manifested itself in humans as hallucinations, convulsions, nausea, a burning sensation in the limbs. Such symptoms lead to many accusations of witchcraft. One hundred thousand were slaughtered on the charge of poisoning the local population. Jews, Muslims, lepers were included in the accusations and of bringing the Black Death to Europe.
A little known cultural response, however, was the real culprit for the increase in deaths from plague. Hysteria ran high after the poisonings and cats – the oft accused familiar of witches – were killed off in job lots...
With no cats to hunt the flea-ridden rodents carrying the Plague, the incidents of Black Death sky-rocketed and so did the persecutions. Even after the disease ran its course and faded from Europe, the Church and local communities continued to go after alleged witches; most of whom were ordinary people subjected to the jealousies of others.
The persecution of non-Christians has a history spanning millennia. But paternalism as a measure to control society is a story for another day.
Today, witchcraft is more acceptable (excluding areas of Africa where people are still murdered for being an accused witch) under the banner of ‘neopaganism’; a friendlier, more peaceful and private practice without the church-fed superstitions of old.
Education and flexibility of governments, the separation of church and state, the sophistication of our societies and the establishments of religious freedoms, all allow people to worship a religion in their own way.
For Christians, Easter is a solemn occasion; for the neopagans, it is a time for celebration. Fortunately, in the modern world, there’s room enough for both.
During this time, populations and crops flourished. But by the end of this period, the Black Death decimated those same populations. Europe, after the epidemic passed, found itself with 30-60 percent less people. With less people to work in the fields, the fewer fields cultivated and the less food produced. Famine resulted in killing off more of the population. But famine was not uncommon in Medieval Europe, just more obvious after the Black Death.
Some estimates put the death toll at between 75-200 million people. As with all urbanisation, the close proximity of people led to the rapid spread of disease. Paris lost 100,000 – half its population, Florence more than half at 70,000 dead.
Before the Black Death arrived, another danger lurked in the warm, humid environment: fungus.
Bread wasn’t just a staple of the diet, it provided the plate, or trencher, as well. Following the meal, the bread trencher could be eaten, given to the poor or to farm animals. Unfortunately for the peasants of Europe, the warm, rainy weather gave rise to the Ergot fungi which grew on the rye and wheat crops.
Ergot poisoning manifested itself in humans as hallucinations, convulsions, nausea, a burning sensation in the limbs. Such symptoms lead to many accusations of witchcraft. One hundred thousand were slaughtered on the charge of poisoning the local population. Jews, Muslims, lepers were included in the accusations and of bringing the Black Death to Europe.
A little known cultural response, however, was the real culprit for the increase in deaths from plague. Hysteria ran high after the poisonings and cats – the oft accused familiar of witches – were killed off in job lots...
With no cats to hunt the flea-ridden rodents carrying the Plague, the incidents of Black Death sky-rocketed and so did the persecutions. Even after the disease ran its course and faded from Europe, the Church and local communities continued to go after alleged witches; most of whom were ordinary people subjected to the jealousies of others.
The persecution of non-Christians has a history spanning millennia. But paternalism as a measure to control society is a story for another day.
Today, witchcraft is more acceptable (excluding areas of Africa where people are still murdered for being an accused witch) under the banner of ‘neopaganism’; a friendlier, more peaceful and private practice without the church-fed superstitions of old.
Education and flexibility of governments, the separation of church and state, the sophistication of our societies and the establishments of religious freedoms, all allow people to worship a religion in their own way.
For Christians, Easter is a solemn occasion; for the neopagans, it is a time for celebration. Fortunately, in the modern world, there’s room enough for both.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Moon over April
The practice of deciding when Easter falls is a tradition millennia old yet involves a pagan practice: that of the moon’s cycle through the heavens.
Constantin the Great, a Roman Emperor, decreed in 325, that Easter be celebrated on the first Sunday after the full moon following the vernal equinox. (The vernal equinox occurs twice a year when night and day are the same length.) By using the Julian calendar, each year was 11 minutes and 14 secs longer than the solar year. Over the years, this caused distinct discrepancies in Western Church celebrations of Easter.
Given the conflict between the solar and lunar years, and between the calendic and true astronomical years, the church adopted a system of calculations proposed by astronomer, Victorinius in 465.
British and Celtic Christian churches refused to comply, leading to disagreements with Rome. At this time, the Julian calendar was in use, but in 1582, Pope Gregory XIII reformed the calendar into the Gregorian calendar which dissolved most of the controversy by dropping ten days off the calendar. Western Christian churches were then be able to celebrate Easter at the same time; Eastern Christian Churches however, chose not to adopt the new system and so celebrate Easter either a week before or after the dates of the West.
Because of the difference between the Lunar and Solar cycles, Easter has become ‘a moveable feast’.
The word ‘Easter’ is thought to be pre-Christian in origin, from the Anglo-Saxon for the Teutonic goddess of spring and fertility, Eastre. According to St Bede – an 8th Century British scholar – the month of April was sacred to her. The vernal equinox is her day of celebration. Easter Eggs, too, are a part of the festival, representing fertility.
Historically speaking, Rome, in an effort to suppress Pagan rituals, changed iconic Christian celebratory days to those of Pagan worship; it made the conversion from paganism to Christendom easier for the Church. And yet, the church also integrated paganism into the Christian doctrine and calls it their own.
The remains of ancient Roman temples and sites of Celtic significance have been found under a number of Christian churches across Europe, including the Notre Dame in Paris.
It is a curious hypocrisy of the church that Christmas – the day the Church says Jesus Christ was born – is on a set date, immovable (though some astronomers believe the date is...erroneous due to the astronomical event at the time described in literature and the Bible which did not take place in December, but in April – other astronomical events were also recorded over a period of ten years, thus the true date is up for debate), but the day of his death changes due to the vagaries of the lunar cycle.
Constantin the Great, a Roman Emperor, decreed in 325, that Easter be celebrated on the first Sunday after the full moon following the vernal equinox. (The vernal equinox occurs twice a year when night and day are the same length.) By using the Julian calendar, each year was 11 minutes and 14 secs longer than the solar year. Over the years, this caused distinct discrepancies in Western Church celebrations of Easter.
Given the conflict between the solar and lunar years, and between the calendic and true astronomical years, the church adopted a system of calculations proposed by astronomer, Victorinius in 465.
British and Celtic Christian churches refused to comply, leading to disagreements with Rome. At this time, the Julian calendar was in use, but in 1582, Pope Gregory XIII reformed the calendar into the Gregorian calendar which dissolved most of the controversy by dropping ten days off the calendar. Western Christian churches were then be able to celebrate Easter at the same time; Eastern Christian Churches however, chose not to adopt the new system and so celebrate Easter either a week before or after the dates of the West.
Because of the difference between the Lunar and Solar cycles, Easter has become ‘a moveable feast’.
The word ‘Easter’ is thought to be pre-Christian in origin, from the Anglo-Saxon for the Teutonic goddess of spring and fertility, Eastre. According to St Bede – an 8th Century British scholar – the month of April was sacred to her. The vernal equinox is her day of celebration. Easter Eggs, too, are a part of the festival, representing fertility.
Historically speaking, Rome, in an effort to suppress Pagan rituals, changed iconic Christian celebratory days to those of Pagan worship; it made the conversion from paganism to Christendom easier for the Church. And yet, the church also integrated paganism into the Christian doctrine and calls it their own.
The remains of ancient Roman temples and sites of Celtic significance have been found under a number of Christian churches across Europe, including the Notre Dame in Paris.
It is a curious hypocrisy of the church that Christmas – the day the Church says Jesus Christ was born – is on a set date, immovable (though some astronomers believe the date is...erroneous due to the astronomical event at the time described in literature and the Bible which did not take place in December, but in April – other astronomical events were also recorded over a period of ten years, thus the true date is up for debate), but the day of his death changes due to the vagaries of the lunar cycle.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
St Patrick
Four hundred years after Claudius invaded Britannia to subdue the Celtic barbarians, Irish raiders attacked a small village – probably in the Severn Valley – burning and slaying. When they retreated back to Ireland, they had in their possession the son of a Christian Deacon, a Roman citizen. His name was Patrick.
Sold into slavery, Patrick found solace in religion as he tended farm animals. For six years he toiled in loneliness before insistent visions led him to escape to Brittany. He wandered far and wide until he came upon Bishop Germanus of Auxerre.
Expressing a desire to return to Ireland and spread the religious message he had learned on his travels, Patrick spent the next fourteen years under the Bishop’s careful tutelage and prepared himself for what seemed an impossible task.
In 432 he sailed for Ireland. There, he organised the Christians already there and converted kings and kingdoms to the Christian way. Today, he is celebrated for his deeds, including the ridding of snakes and reptiles from the land. Green is colour worn and shamrocks displayed to represent the Holy Trinity.
The commonly told story of St Patrick, however, hides a deeper, more brutal truth – the thorough oppression of an older religion and people, that of so-called paganism and the Celts.
Prior to subjugation by the Romans, the Irish Celts were one of the most liberal and equitable societies in history. The religion was maternal as opposed to the paternal Romans.
Women could and did divorce husbands, taking with them all they’d brought to the marriage. Divorce could be for infertility, inability to perform conjugal rights, for a husband preferring other men, brutality, for many reasons we have today.
The Celt Queen Boudicca of the Iceni came within an hour of defeating the Roman legions, but for the treachery of the male leaders of other tribes who wanted the wealth and prestige siding with Rome would bring.
Patrick, in his desire to convert people, desecrated sacred Druid sites by setting the Solstice fires alight before the due day, by turning kings to Christianity through threats of retribution, trade sanctions and oppression. It came to pass that anyone who practiced non-Christian ways were put to death, beheaded as a warning to others. Druids were rounded up and slaughtered, sacred oak groves were put to the flame and history... rewritten.
And the snakes evicted from Ireland? One of the sacred items to Druids was the image of the snake. It is a common feature on a number of jewellery pieces discovered during archaeological excavations. During the time of Patrick, the snake represented the Druids. Patrick’s ridding the Isle of snakes is merely a metaphor for the slaughter of pagan Holy men and women, but portrayed in Christian Garden of Eden terms.
Patrick went on to establish monasteries and religious retreats. He inspired St Columba who took Christianity to the Picts in Scotland and on into England. In conjunction with the Pope, the majority of Pagan sacred days were converted to Christian Holy ones. Churches were built on ley lines.
It did not mean the complete destruction of paganism; for example the Christian church still uses the pagan way of moon cycles when deciding when Easter is to be held. The raising of a tree at Christmas is a part of the Druid tree-worshipping practice is another example.
St Patrick is a man who changed history. Think, for a moment, what Ireland could have become if those raiders had killed the boy rather than enslave him.
Sold into slavery, Patrick found solace in religion as he tended farm animals. For six years he toiled in loneliness before insistent visions led him to escape to Brittany. He wandered far and wide until he came upon Bishop Germanus of Auxerre.
Expressing a desire to return to Ireland and spread the religious message he had learned on his travels, Patrick spent the next fourteen years under the Bishop’s careful tutelage and prepared himself for what seemed an impossible task.
In 432 he sailed for Ireland. There, he organised the Christians already there and converted kings and kingdoms to the Christian way. Today, he is celebrated for his deeds, including the ridding of snakes and reptiles from the land. Green is colour worn and shamrocks displayed to represent the Holy Trinity.
The commonly told story of St Patrick, however, hides a deeper, more brutal truth – the thorough oppression of an older religion and people, that of so-called paganism and the Celts.
Prior to subjugation by the Romans, the Irish Celts were one of the most liberal and equitable societies in history. The religion was maternal as opposed to the paternal Romans.
Women could and did divorce husbands, taking with them all they’d brought to the marriage. Divorce could be for infertility, inability to perform conjugal rights, for a husband preferring other men, brutality, for many reasons we have today.
The Celt Queen Boudicca of the Iceni came within an hour of defeating the Roman legions, but for the treachery of the male leaders of other tribes who wanted the wealth and prestige siding with Rome would bring.
Patrick, in his desire to convert people, desecrated sacred Druid sites by setting the Solstice fires alight before the due day, by turning kings to Christianity through threats of retribution, trade sanctions and oppression. It came to pass that anyone who practiced non-Christian ways were put to death, beheaded as a warning to others. Druids were rounded up and slaughtered, sacred oak groves were put to the flame and history... rewritten.
And the snakes evicted from Ireland? One of the sacred items to Druids was the image of the snake. It is a common feature on a number of jewellery pieces discovered during archaeological excavations. During the time of Patrick, the snake represented the Druids. Patrick’s ridding the Isle of snakes is merely a metaphor for the slaughter of pagan Holy men and women, but portrayed in Christian Garden of Eden terms.
Patrick went on to establish monasteries and religious retreats. He inspired St Columba who took Christianity to the Picts in Scotland and on into England. In conjunction with the Pope, the majority of Pagan sacred days were converted to Christian Holy ones. Churches were built on ley lines.
It did not mean the complete destruction of paganism; for example the Christian church still uses the pagan way of moon cycles when deciding when Easter is to be held. The raising of a tree at Christmas is a part of the Druid tree-worshipping practice is another example.
St Patrick is a man who changed history. Think, for a moment, what Ireland could have become if those raiders had killed the boy rather than enslave him.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
History as fiction
Every week, I take myself off to the local maritime museum to work on their newsletter. It’s part current events and part history – and yeah, okay, I do both.
When I put my historian’s hat on, I spend a lot of time on the National Library of Australia’s newspaper archive site. It. Is. Amazing! - oh, and distracting with the life and times...
I’m currently working on the people who started the shipbuilding industry in the local area, and the NLA’s site, plus the State Records Office, have provided me with lots of information to wallow in.
Obviously, this is not fictional writing here, but wait, there’s a point. Let me tell you a little story:
In 1816, James Dent was sent to Australia, convicted of forging banknotes. Four years later, he was granted a Conditional Pardon – that is, he was allowed to wander the colony, but not leave it. In 1820, he married and in 1824, moved out of the main township of Sydney to the Cooks River where he leased a farm.
His neighbour was one Dr Robert Wardell. Wardell and another lawyer, William Charles Wentworth, started the Australian newspaper and proceeded to criticise the Governor of NSW, General Ralph Darling, for his attempts at running the penal colony as a military camp.
In 1828, two separate incidents happened: James Dent was sent to trial for stealing timber from Dr Wardell’s property (he and two co-conspirators were caught when a constable, charging through the bush after a bushranger, found one cutting timber and tossing it over the fence to Dent’s side.) On the same day, a convict named John Jenkins was sentenced to three years transportation to Newcastle for robbing a fellow inmate.
Move forward in time to 1834. John Jenkins has returned. He and two other men are camped on... Dr Wardell’s land. Dr Wardell sets out to inspect his land and come upon the trio. An altercation takes place and Dr Wardell is shot dead. Jenkins and one other are convicted and sentenced to execution after the youngest member turns informer.
James had nothing to do with the crime. He died in 1837. His wife, Elizabeth, marries twice more before dying in 1858. She is buried at St Peter’s near Cooks River.
A son of James, George, eventually came down to the Huskisson area and began cutting timber for the new shipbuilding industry, and started constructing ships – an industry that lasted until the 1960s.
Now then. One of Australia’s greatest architects was Edmund Blacket. He designed and built a good portion of the cathedrals of NSW, including St Andrew’s at Sydney University. What’s interesting is that in 1875, he refurbished... St Peter’s near Cooks River. His son, Cyril, was also an architect and lived... near Huskisson, designing and building a lot of the houses here, including the local church.
History has a lot of co-incidences that seem incredible.
To me, this story is a metaphor for fiction: Wardell, Darling and Blacket are all listed in the Australian Biographical Dictionary – and rightly so; each man built a little piece of this country and left a legacy still recognised today. They are Literature.
Dent and Jenkins aren’t; they are unknown, forgotten, and yet stamped their own mark on history – they are Pulp Fiction.
The difference between the two groups is that one are written about, known about, are famous for what they did rather than who they are; the second group are no more than items in old newspapers or convict records, but are more interesting because of their connections to fame, because of who they are, more than what they did.
Two disparate groups: Literature filled with accomplishment, stories of conflict and noble triumph or bitter tragedy of ambitious men in building a new land; and clinging to Literature’s lower leg, Pulp Fiction, filled with struggle, action, mistakes, happily-ever-after and a villain brought to account, events repeated throughout colonial history. Common to virtually every convict family who also struggled to build a life for themselves in a new land.
One couldn’t survive without the other. Without Pulp Fiction, Literature has no basis; without Literature, Pulp Fiction has nothing to aspire to.
History is made up of both: the luminaries who came to Australia to ensure its’ success and guide the colony, and the convicts and free settlers, who did the labour and built the structures, who farmed the land, who desired to be free.
As a writer and part-time historian, I’m more fascinated with Pulp Fiction than Literati, because it is Pulp Fiction who move the nation without recognition, who have the gritty, complicated lives that engage the emotions – despite Literature thinking I should read it instead.
When I put my historian’s hat on, I spend a lot of time on the National Library of Australia’s newspaper archive site. It. Is. Amazing! - oh, and distracting with the life and times...
I’m currently working on the people who started the shipbuilding industry in the local area, and the NLA’s site, plus the State Records Office, have provided me with lots of information to wallow in.
Obviously, this is not fictional writing here, but wait, there’s a point. Let me tell you a little story:
In 1816, James Dent was sent to Australia, convicted of forging banknotes. Four years later, he was granted a Conditional Pardon – that is, he was allowed to wander the colony, but not leave it. In 1820, he married and in 1824, moved out of the main township of Sydney to the Cooks River where he leased a farm.
His neighbour was one Dr Robert Wardell. Wardell and another lawyer, William Charles Wentworth, started the Australian newspaper and proceeded to criticise the Governor of NSW, General Ralph Darling, for his attempts at running the penal colony as a military camp.
In 1828, two separate incidents happened: James Dent was sent to trial for stealing timber from Dr Wardell’s property (he and two co-conspirators were caught when a constable, charging through the bush after a bushranger, found one cutting timber and tossing it over the fence to Dent’s side.) On the same day, a convict named John Jenkins was sentenced to three years transportation to Newcastle for robbing a fellow inmate.
Move forward in time to 1834. John Jenkins has returned. He and two other men are camped on... Dr Wardell’s land. Dr Wardell sets out to inspect his land and come upon the trio. An altercation takes place and Dr Wardell is shot dead. Jenkins and one other are convicted and sentenced to execution after the youngest member turns informer.
James had nothing to do with the crime. He died in 1837. His wife, Elizabeth, marries twice more before dying in 1858. She is buried at St Peter’s near Cooks River.
A son of James, George, eventually came down to the Huskisson area and began cutting timber for the new shipbuilding industry, and started constructing ships – an industry that lasted until the 1960s.
Now then. One of Australia’s greatest architects was Edmund Blacket. He designed and built a good portion of the cathedrals of NSW, including St Andrew’s at Sydney University. What’s interesting is that in 1875, he refurbished... St Peter’s near Cooks River. His son, Cyril, was also an architect and lived... near Huskisson, designing and building a lot of the houses here, including the local church.
History has a lot of co-incidences that seem incredible.
To me, this story is a metaphor for fiction: Wardell, Darling and Blacket are all listed in the Australian Biographical Dictionary – and rightly so; each man built a little piece of this country and left a legacy still recognised today. They are Literature.
Dent and Jenkins aren’t; they are unknown, forgotten, and yet stamped their own mark on history – they are Pulp Fiction.
The difference between the two groups is that one are written about, known about, are famous for what they did rather than who they are; the second group are no more than items in old newspapers or convict records, but are more interesting because of their connections to fame, because of who they are, more than what they did.
Two disparate groups: Literature filled with accomplishment, stories of conflict and noble triumph or bitter tragedy of ambitious men in building a new land; and clinging to Literature’s lower leg, Pulp Fiction, filled with struggle, action, mistakes, happily-ever-after and a villain brought to account, events repeated throughout colonial history. Common to virtually every convict family who also struggled to build a life for themselves in a new land.
One couldn’t survive without the other. Without Pulp Fiction, Literature has no basis; without Literature, Pulp Fiction has nothing to aspire to.
History is made up of both: the luminaries who came to Australia to ensure its’ success and guide the colony, and the convicts and free settlers, who did the labour and built the structures, who farmed the land, who desired to be free.
As a writer and part-time historian, I’m more fascinated with Pulp Fiction than Literati, because it is Pulp Fiction who move the nation without recognition, who have the gritty, complicated lives that engage the emotions – despite Literature thinking I should read it instead.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Wisdom of ages
Here it is, the middle of January, and the overnight temperature dropped to a few degrees above zero.
Plenty of family time this past weekend, like the weekend before. We live less than a hundred metres from the beach so in Summer, peeps come for the sun. More rellos are popping up this weekend too.
Plus I've been busily editing... it's all go...
But, I've been watching a program called Elders. The introduction says it all:
"We live in a society that worships youth. On television, in magazines, in advertisements and on billboards, what sells and what is sold to us is youth. But in some cultures it is the elders of the community who are valued and whose wisdom is sought. In this series we are going to seek out six prominent elders of our tribe, each over the age of 65 to see what life has taught them. Welcome to the elders."
We've heard from Alan Alda, Sir David Attenborough and Bob Hawke (didn't watch that one - I don't like him at all).
Last night, Andrew Denton spoke with the incomparable Helen Thomas. What a fascinating woman.
A lot of people outside of the U.S. probably don't know who she is, but would probably remember the old lady, hunched over, in the front row of White House Press Briefings, grilling whoever is at the podium.
It's sometimes magical to watch. Helen will ask the same question, in ten different ways; and be given the same answer... in ten different ways. What is astonishing is the respect and accord given to Ms Thomas. I've never heard a speaker treat her with impatience or condescension - even as some commentators do.
At age 89, she's still working, still as wily as a fox and still asking the awkward questions. Ms Thomas is a journalists journalist - and age has not wearied her. What she says in the interview is sometimes pointed:
ANDREW DENTON: The old saying that that power corrupts absolute power corrupts absolutely. Do you believe that’s true?
HELEN THOMAS: Yeah. I think it can. I’ve seen people men go into the Oval Office with some trepidation. In a couple of days they think they’re President and they think that’s all powerful and people worship at their shrine and every wish is a command, no yeah I think very corrupting.
ANDREW DENTON: Who have you seen most changed by that office?
HELEN THOMAS: This man. I think he thinks he’s President and he’s led us into a very b-big quagmire morass.
It was an excellent interview and I wanted to hear more. Half an hour isn't nearly long enough to listen to all the fascinating things that happen in our eminent seniors' lives. Maybe if more young people paid attention to the older generations, things would be much more happier, if not livelier.
So next week, we get to hear from Dame Elisabeth Murdoch. Rupie's mum. He's 78; Elisabeth is 100. Should be interesting.
Plenty of family time this past weekend, like the weekend before. We live less than a hundred metres from the beach so in Summer, peeps come for the sun. More rellos are popping up this weekend too.
Plus I've been busily editing... it's all go...
But, I've been watching a program called Elders. The introduction says it all:
"We live in a society that worships youth. On television, in magazines, in advertisements and on billboards, what sells and what is sold to us is youth. But in some cultures it is the elders of the community who are valued and whose wisdom is sought. In this series we are going to seek out six prominent elders of our tribe, each over the age of 65 to see what life has taught them. Welcome to the elders."
We've heard from Alan Alda, Sir David Attenborough and Bob Hawke (didn't watch that one - I don't like him at all).
Last night, Andrew Denton spoke with the incomparable Helen Thomas. What a fascinating woman.
A lot of people outside of the U.S. probably don't know who she is, but would probably remember the old lady, hunched over, in the front row of White House Press Briefings, grilling whoever is at the podium.
It's sometimes magical to watch. Helen will ask the same question, in ten different ways; and be given the same answer... in ten different ways. What is astonishing is the respect and accord given to Ms Thomas. I've never heard a speaker treat her with impatience or condescension - even as some commentators do.
At age 89, she's still working, still as wily as a fox and still asking the awkward questions. Ms Thomas is a journalists journalist - and age has not wearied her. What she says in the interview is sometimes pointed:
ANDREW DENTON: The old saying that that power corrupts absolute power corrupts absolutely. Do you believe that’s true?
HELEN THOMAS: Yeah. I think it can. I’ve seen people men go into the Oval Office with some trepidation. In a couple of days they think they’re President and they think that’s all powerful and people worship at their shrine and every wish is a command, no yeah I think very corrupting.
ANDREW DENTON: Who have you seen most changed by that office?
HELEN THOMAS: This man. I think he thinks he’s President and he’s led us into a very b-big quagmire morass.
It was an excellent interview and I wanted to hear more. Half an hour isn't nearly long enough to listen to all the fascinating things that happen in our eminent seniors' lives. Maybe if more young people paid attention to the older generations, things would be much more happier, if not livelier.
So next week, we get to hear from Dame Elisabeth Murdoch. Rupie's mum. He's 78; Elisabeth is 100. Should be interesting.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Lest We Forget
Today is Anzac Day.
On this day, way back in 1915, Empire troops landed at Gallipoli, Turkey. Over the ensuing months, thousands died. Most were British, or Canadian, or Indian, but for Australians, this battle marked the first time a large scale Australian force engaged the enemy in the service of the Crown. (It is agreed that a force of about 20,000 went to South Africa over the course of the Boer war, but this fight was the first for Australia following Federation.)
More than the Somme, Gallipoli represents a 'trial by fire' for the ANZACs. Yes, we lost the battle, but out of failure came the image of the laconic, irreverent, courageous Digger.
For many years, Anzac Day meant watching old men march and reminisce, of watching two-up games, of standing around in cool weather and wondering when I could go home.
Since University and discovering the citation of why my grandfather was awarded the Military Cross, that attitude changed - as it did when I found relative who rowed the troops ashore on that dark morning so long ago.
Today is different. We have found the HMAS Sydney, sunk by the German raider Kormoran and missing for sixty years; we have discovered a mass grave at Fromelles of Australian soldiers killed in action and soon to be identified and honour; and we celebrate the courage of SAS trooper Mark Donaldson, VC, the first Australian soldier to be awarded the Victoria Cross in forty years for outstanding bravery in the face of enemy fire in Afghanistan.
But today we not only remember those who fell during conflicts throughout our history, we also think of those still on duty in combat zones in distant lands, doing their jobs with humour and determination and continuing the image of the laconic, irreverent, courageous soldier.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Spartans
I'm guessing that because we're good cable customers, Austar gave us the Movie channels to play with for a while.
Today, I watched 300 wif dat bi' 'o eye-candy, Gerald Butler... actually, there were plenty of rrr-rippling abs. But all perving aside, I enjoyed it. I'm assuming certain... disturbing... parts were edited out from the television version. But I don't recall studying (I did ancient history all through school, but modern at uni) that Xerxes was a debauched meglomaniac.
Yes, I know it's from a Frank Millar graphic novel, but that struck me as... odd. Meglomaniac, sure, given his father Darius tried the same thing and got his ass kicked, but a messianic hedonist? Hmmm.
Anyway, I was impressed by the history of the piece. The Spartans epic defence at Thermopylae has echoed down the centuries as an example of the determined few against the overwhelming might of the many. And the Spartans may have succeeded in defeating the Persians militarily at Thermopylae if not for the betrayal. As it was, the 300 died, but Xerxes's army was destroyed by the Greeks.
I've read the criticisms of this film, and all I can say is "they missed the point". Sparta was a city-state based on militarism - from birth to death and including women. Yes, it was brutal, but it encompasses what the Spartans were willing to do to keep their city as a regional power. It was a society much revered and much reviled.
'With shield, or on it.' There is no other choice for a Spartan Hoplite. King Leonidas and his men live on through history, achieving the glory they knew would be theirs. It's a mindset we see today in... certain, more radical elements of society. A mindset that is as difficult to understand today as it was for Xerxes then.
It is a piece of history more people should consider; it is the story of the few against the many, fighting for a noble cause while other sit back and watch. If news of the Spartan fight hadn't reached the rest of Greece, I imagine history, world history, would be very different.
Today, I watched 300 wif dat bi' 'o eye-candy, Gerald Butler... actually, there were plenty of rrr-rippling abs. But all perving aside, I enjoyed it. I'm assuming certain... disturbing... parts were edited out from the television version. But I don't recall studying (I did ancient history all through school, but modern at uni) that Xerxes was a debauched meglomaniac.
Yes, I know it's from a Frank Millar graphic novel, but that struck me as... odd. Meglomaniac, sure, given his father Darius tried the same thing and got his ass kicked, but a messianic hedonist? Hmmm.
Anyway, I was impressed by the history of the piece. The Spartans epic defence at Thermopylae has echoed down the centuries as an example of the determined few against the overwhelming might of the many. And the Spartans may have succeeded in defeating the Persians militarily at Thermopylae if not for the betrayal. As it was, the 300 died, but Xerxes's army was destroyed by the Greeks.
I've read the criticisms of this film, and all I can say is "they missed the point". Sparta was a city-state based on militarism - from birth to death and including women. Yes, it was brutal, but it encompasses what the Spartans were willing to do to keep their city as a regional power. It was a society much revered and much reviled.
'With shield, or on it.' There is no other choice for a Spartan Hoplite. King Leonidas and his men live on through history, achieving the glory they knew would be theirs. It's a mindset we see today in... certain, more radical elements of society. A mindset that is as difficult to understand today as it was for Xerxes then.
It is a piece of history more people should consider; it is the story of the few against the many, fighting for a noble cause while other sit back and watch. If news of the Spartan fight hadn't reached the rest of Greece, I imagine history, world history, would be very different.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Australia Day!
Australians all let us rejoice
For we are young and free
We've golden soil and wealth for toil,
Our home is girt by sea:
Our land abounds in nature's gifts
Of beauty rich and rare,
In history's page let every stage
Advance Australia fair,
In joyful strains then let us sing
Advance Australia fair.
When I was a kid, we sang this before starting our school day. For special assemblies, we sang the 'second' verse too. (The original version has five verses; the official version only two.) I'm guessing not many of our newest citizens know it because it's rarely belted out any more. But here it is:
Beneath our radiant Southern Cross,
We'll toil with hearts and hands,
To make this Commonwealth of ours
Renowned of all the lands,
For those who've come across the seas
We've boundless plains to share,
With courage let us all combine
To advance Australia fair.
In joyful strains then let us sing,
Advance Australia fair.
Sigh... makes an Aussie go all warm and fuzzy. By the end of the day, 13,000 people will be raising their glasses and celebrating their new citizenship.
It's all about celebrating who we are - whether indigenous or migrant - getting down to the white sandy beaches, throwing prawns, lamb or beef on the barbie or watching the cricket or tennis holding a cold one. It's the ferry races on Sydney Harbour, the Tall ships under full sails and sparkly fireworks. It's buying a beer for the bloke next to you, saying 'G'day' to a stranger and just being thankful you live here.
Whatever you're up to today, have a good one!
Monday, January 19, 2009
Choices, choices
Last week, Trooper Mark Donaldson was award the highest honour for courage under fire: the Victoria Cross.
Trooper Donaldson of the SAS was awarded the medal (you don't 'win' combat medals because the action ain't no game to 'win', there is no competition other than to stay alive) after drawing enemy fire away from wounded soldiers and the rescue of a wounded Afghan interpreter left behind. The story is here.
He did Australia proud - as do all our serving troops; he had a choice of continuing to fight, or to expose himself to machine gun fire and rescue a wounded colleague, to be more than another soldier following orders.
Well done, Trooper Mark Donaldson, you are an inspiration to us all.
* * *
Ahem... yes, well, I did pick the Eagles and they should have rolled the Cardinals. Obviously, no-one told Arizona they were supposed to lose. But I also picked the Steelers! (Although I didn't tell anybody - maybe that's the secret of my succ...er, failures.)
It presents a problem. Former Aussie Rules star Ben Graham punts for the Cardinals and he becomes the first Aussie to play in a Superbowl. I should support them - I know the rest of Australia will be - but the way the Steelers played today... I'm keeping my mouth shut on who I'm supporting; it's better that way.
And now, onto the big one: the Superbowl. I shall make ready with popcorn, hotdogs and a caffeinated beverage. Sure, it will be about 10.00 in the morning, but who cares?
Trooper Donaldson of the SAS was awarded the medal (you don't 'win' combat medals because the action ain't no game to 'win', there is no competition other than to stay alive) after drawing enemy fire away from wounded soldiers and the rescue of a wounded Afghan interpreter left behind. The story is here.
He did Australia proud - as do all our serving troops; he had a choice of continuing to fight, or to expose himself to machine gun fire and rescue a wounded colleague, to be more than another soldier following orders.
Well done, Trooper Mark Donaldson, you are an inspiration to us all.
* * *
Ahem... yes, well, I did pick the Eagles and they should have rolled the Cardinals. Obviously, no-one told Arizona they were supposed to lose. But I also picked the Steelers! (Although I didn't tell anybody - maybe that's the secret of my succ...er, failures.)
It presents a problem. Former Aussie Rules star Ben Graham punts for the Cardinals and he becomes the first Aussie to play in a Superbowl. I should support them - I know the rest of Australia will be - but the way the Steelers played today... I'm keeping my mouth shut on who I'm supporting; it's better that way.
And now, onto the big one: the Superbowl. I shall make ready with popcorn, hotdogs and a caffeinated beverage. Sure, it will be about 10.00 in the morning, but who cares?
Monday, December 15, 2008
Coming around...
Some years ago, I studied history at University; it was, in fact a minor in my degree. For one semester, I did the Industrial Revolution and found it fascinating. There was plenty of information on how the Revolution changed the world - politically, socially, technologically... For my final essay though, I decided to write on how it affected the ordinary person and their way of life. It was a time, remember, when people walked off the land and into factories.
Unfortunately for me, my tutor downgraded the paper for 'being too specific' - he wanted something more general.
I've always thought myself as an 'old school' journalist; that is, I write just the facts without the colourful language of tabloid journalism Murdoch and owners of his ilk have introduced over the past few decades. To me, a journalist gives the facts, the reader makes their own conclusion and it is not the journalists responsibility to give them either a slanted story or an opinion.
I began writing press releases for a government department, and felt rather proud of myself for issuing information, not editorialising. Enter my boss who asked: "Do you have a personal objection to using adjectives?" So I had to add them in.
Cue today. I'm busily volunteering at the local maritime museum writing articles for the local paper. I did three today on well known ships of the area. And so I duly gave them to my boss. She had two things to say:
"Could you make them more specific?" and,
"I think you should put more colour into them, make them more story-like."
So it all collides, years later. I get to write specific stories about the local history of where I grew up. Can't ask for more than that.
Unfortunately for me, my tutor downgraded the paper for 'being too specific' - he wanted something more general.
I've always thought myself as an 'old school' journalist; that is, I write just the facts without the colourful language of tabloid journalism Murdoch and owners of his ilk have introduced over the past few decades. To me, a journalist gives the facts, the reader makes their own conclusion and it is not the journalists responsibility to give them either a slanted story or an opinion.
I began writing press releases for a government department, and felt rather proud of myself for issuing information, not editorialising. Enter my boss who asked: "Do you have a personal objection to using adjectives?" So I had to add them in.
Cue today. I'm busily volunteering at the local maritime museum writing articles for the local paper. I did three today on well known ships of the area. And so I duly gave them to my boss. She had two things to say:
"Could you make them more specific?" and,
"I think you should put more colour into them, make them more story-like."
So it all collides, years later. I get to write specific stories about the local history of where I grew up. Can't ask for more than that.
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