Some books bother me for reasons I struggle to articulate, and I sit there poised between turning the page or throwing the thing away entirely so as to avoid having to undergo the restlessness it inspires. Charlotte Bront??s Villette is one of those books.
Gone Girl is an MRA?s wet dream. Look, I enjoyed much of the novel. Gillian Flynn writes a highly?readable?sentence, and the text is a masterclass in the use of the unreliable narrator. I enjoyed David Fincher?s film interpretation of it, too, even though I already knew where its plot twists would lead. Watching it?on the… Continue reading Gone Girl
We live in a society that has no adequate images anymore, and if we do not find adequate images and an adequate language for our civilization with which to express them, we will die out like the dinosaurs. ?Werner Herzog I read The Neverending Story when I was a teenager. I hardly remember the plot… Continue reading Muzzle
My housemate has spent a few years working in the not-for-profit sector, and recently landed a job as the Australian Coordinator for Sea Shepherd Conservation Society. Due to this, and with the promise that I would write a review, I scored a handful of free tickets to the Sea Shepherd sponsored preview session of The… Continue reading Blood in the water
What troubles me most is an attitude of mind that could come to prevail amongst white Australians: a feeling of irritation apparently based on a conviction that we are saddled with the responsibility for problems not really of our making, and by their nature probably insoluble. (W.E.H. Stanner, 1978) It?s the evening of Tuesday, February… Continue reading Inheritance
There?s a moment in the film Samson and Delilah where Delilah, destitute and desperate, attempts to sell a painting. She timidly proffers the canvas to people eating outside at a cafe in an Alice Springs mall. Some of them ignore her; others shake their heads dismissively and go back to their conversations. A couple of… Continue reading Eat yourself
Ann Blainey has recently published a new biography about Dame Nellie Melba, and today I spent my morning in the West Tower Suite on the 35th floor of the Sofitel listening to her speak about her research process, with salmon sandwiches and coffee courtesy of the Victorian Opera and my sweetest grin reserved for their… Continue reading Big Black Monsoon
I’ve taken to getting up early and studying before midday. (‘Early’ being between 8am and 9:30am, and trust me, this is impressive.) I usually get an chapter or two of some convoluted postcolonial theory read, shoot off a couple of emails, find an article on the university databases and scribble a couple of paragraphs about… Continue reading The thing about The West Wing…