Cirrus@Austlit

'On the edge of Stirling Gardens in central Perth, Western Australia, five large, old-fashioned pen nibs stand in a curved line, their tips in the ground. Anne Neil’s sculpture, Memory Markers, commemorates the history of this site, which includes the Supreme Court. Taking this sculpture as an emblem of writing, which in the context of its setting highlights the relationship between literature and law, this article explores the image of the pen in the ground. As a symbol of literacy, it evokes the powerful network of discourses—particularly law, science and religion—that underwrote the imperial project. It signals, in Michele Grossman’s terms, “the event of literacy [that] radically interrupts and disrupts—but never eliminates—pre-existing Aboriginal epistemologies”. The article goes on to explore the sculpture as a symbol of the assertion of jurisdiction, the speaking of law in and over colonised space. It analyses a group of written texts associated with this site, from colonial legal assertions of jurisdiction over Aboriginal people in Edward Landor’s The Bushman (1847), through a proclamation under the Aborigines Act 1905 (WA), to Stephen Kinnane’s Indigenous family memoir of life under that act, Shadow Lines (2004).' (Publication abstract)

'In recent years, family history research has become a popular activity for many Australians. This imperative to connect with our ancestors extends into the field of literary production. In this essay, we examine one prominent novel that reflects this movement, Andrew McGahan’s The White Earth (2004). Looking through a lens of family history and historiography, the novel asks questions about postcolonial belonging, inheritance, and the violent foundations of the nation. McGahan’s young protagonist, William, stands to inherit a vast but crumbling property on the Darling Downs in Queensland. As William discovers more about the land, he comes into contact with both his own white pastoralist ancestors, and the powerful Indigenous spirits who inhabit secret and sacred spaces in the landscape. We argue that William’s encounter with secret family histories produces the hysteria at the climax of the novel, when the repressed violence of the past returns to haunt the present. Confronted with hidden knowledge, William—and, by proxy, the reader—is called to reconsider inherited histories in light of contemporary historiographies. The move towards knowledge of the family’s origins is a realisation of the complexity of the white Australian relationship to the land and its first inhabitants.' (Publication abstract)

'Worries about weakening community are central to assessments of modern Australia, yet it is easy to overlook the everyday ways we “do” and participate in community life. Book clubs are one area of community participation largely ignored by researchers despite the local and national proliferation of such clubs. Surveying twenty-two book groups and ninety-seven book club members, this study investigates the roles that book clubs play in the cultural and community life of a regional area of Tasmania. The results show that book clubs promote regular intellectual engagement and provide for a distinct female sociality that consolidates and creates new social connections and function as everyday “escape attempts” from the obligations of work and family. We suggest that the support and development of local book club programs may have considerable potential as a strategy for Australian governments and communities to foster a sense of community.' (Publication abstract)

'The anti-war song “And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda” has become a cultural icon in Australia, and elsewhere has been recorded over 130 times in 10 different languages. The song was written in 1971 by Eric Bogle, a Scottish immigrant to Australia, who has penned more than 250 powerful compositions, which, among other things, focus on the failure of history to impress upon youth the futility of war. Appropriately, Bogle was named Australian Humanist of the Year in 2001 for capturing “the ethos of humanism through his perceptive and individualistic songwriting with its exposure of racism, bigotry, warmongering and injustice of all kinds”. Additionally, he was awarded the United Nations Peace Medal (1986), and was made Member of the Order of Australia (1987). This article asks why a song written by a Scot in Australia, fifty-six years after the Dardanelles campaign, feels as if it has “always existed. That it belongs to culture and country”. It questions what the appeal imbued within the lyrics of those five short verses might be and recounts the story behind the creation of what Pete Seeger referred to as “one of the world’s greatest songs”. Through interviews with the writer, and an examination of the relevant historiography, this article presents a study of “the most potent ballad of the age”. It also examines what Bogle meant when he said that it was a song that “came into its time”.' (Publication abstract)

'The creative industries concept or term continues to attract attention in both developed and developing economies worldwide. However, it is not universally applied, with other terms such as cultural industries, arts and culture, copyright industries, or the experience economy used in various global locations. There is also ongoing debate and critique in relation to the creative industries concept, given that it emphasises employment and wealth creation and gathers together a range of disparate disciplines. This article explores these issues via interviews with twenty-two key leaders representing fifteen different industry organisations, advocacy groups, and government funding bodies in the Australian creative industries sector. The findings reveal only a moderate level of understanding and application of the creative industries concept, with a range of views on its relevance and utility for those working in the sector. In addition, the findings propose that there is significant potential and need for the sector to work towards a stronger advocacy position and profile within the broader economy. However, this represents a major challenge for the creative industries sector, given the existing vertical and horizontal power structures within this complex and diverse area of the economy.' (Publication abstract)

'Thea Astley published sixteen novels and collections of short stories between 1958 and 1999. She died in 2004, a week ahead of her eightieth birthday, but she blazes again, in all her fiercely compassionate crankiness, in Susan Sheridan’s analysis of her fictions and in Karen Lamb's biography, Inventing Her Own Weather (2015). These two books—Sheridan on the work and Lamb on the life—are essential companions for a full appreciation of Astley and, more generally, twentieth-century Australian literary culture.' (Introduction)

'Sylvia Martin's moving biography tracks the life of Aileen Palmer and provides great insight into the lives of the Palmer family. Aileen was the elder daughter of Nettie and Vance Palmer, leading figures in Australian literary and intellectual circles between the wars. Aileen's younger sister, Helen, in her own right, became a distinguished Australian writer and activist in left wing politics. With great sensitivity and deftness, Martin lays out the preoccupations of Aileen and her family and the patterns that formatted their relations: between parents and children, and sister to sister. Martin also tracks, in Aileen's later years, the increasing concern of Vance and Nettie with their daughter's mental illness and, after Vance's death, the more and more fraught nature of the contact between Aileen and her mother.' (Introduction)

'A Tear in the Soul is an ambitious book. Amanda Webster, born into a family of Kalgoorlie doctors and a doctor herself, is challenged about Australian racism at an elite writers’ retreat in Hawaii, so sets forth from the exceedingly comfortable surroundings of her eastern Australian homes (plural) to confront the racism she grew up with and reconnect with the mission kids she played with at primary school. The result is a book that is partly memoir, partly exposé of unconscious privilege, partly a means to personal reconciliation. The title comes from Webster’s realisation that hurting others causes “a tear in the soul that allows the essence of one’s humanity to leak out” (112) and that she belongs to a group that has caused such a wound.' (Introduction)