Cirrus@Austlit

'It has been said of music journalism, that writing about music is like dancing about architecture, a flawed and pointless exercise, the wrong medium for the artform. One might regard surf writing similarly. Perhaps the point of surf writing is that the experience is so fleeting and elusive that attempting to convey it in literary form stretches any writer to their limits. It is an open-ended challenge in which we are almost destined to fail but compelled to try anyway, like paddling out in a tumultuous sea, or taking off on a close-out.

'This paper provides an historic overview of literary efforts to conjure the ethereal, multi-sensory experience of wave-riding, not just surf writing in general, but specifically efforts to describe the physical act of wave riding. I have written about surfing, as a career, for over 35 years, and am often struck by how little surf writing is focussed on describing the act itself. Most surf writing concerns itself with character profiles of elite surfers, exotic travel, competition, social and environmental issues that impact surfing. In the context of the popular surf media, images are the hero, better able to capture the splendour and magic of wave-riding, where words may seem inadequate.' (Publication abstract)

'Rachel Carson, in The Sea Around Us, wrote that we carry the sea in our bodies (1951). Our bodily engagements with the sea can engender a sense of oneness; literature about the sea, and about surfing, often reflects this. Yet, even when we are in the sea, we might struggle to see beyond ourselves: the sun gets in our eyes; our image is reflected on the surface of the water; in the case of surfers, we only have eyes for the next wave. As Kanaka Hawaiian scholar Karin Amimoto Ingersoll, herself a surfer, notes: ‘Despite our perceived identities as organic beings, surfers are neither innocent nor benign voyagers, and our experiences and our practices often escape our intentions and philosophies’ (2016, p. 4). Embracing a materially- immersed subjectivity that is both embodied and porous, which Stacy Alaimo calls trans-corporeality, my essay seeks to emulate the sea’s energy in content and form, riding a wave of embodied creative-critical writing-thinking. I will contemplate the interrelationships between surfing, writing and practice-led research and in doing so demonstrate how surfing has influenced both my writing and thinking, while exploring how trans-corporeality offers an ethical and methodological basis for writing in/with/from the intertidal zone.' (Publication abstract)

'In surf fiction it is common for wave-riders to be tested. The test of self – battling against nature, against others, and against one’s own capabilities – is a popular thematic pathway for discovery, growth and freedom, as manifested regularly in surf-related fiction since its beginnings in 1849. This paper looks at the first three novels that featured surfing – Mardi and a Voyage Thither (Melville, 1849), The Coral Island: A Tale of the Pacific Ocean (Ballantyne, 1857), and Kelea: The Surf-Rider, A Romance of Pagan Hawaii (Twombly, 1900) – to examine why the authors wrote about surfing in conjunction with themes of battle and contest.' (Publication abstract)

'In 2015 Australian world champion surfer Mick Fanning disappeared behind a wave during a surfing competition, just as a great white shark’s fin rose up out of the water. The frantic fish thrashed about, knocking Fanning off his surfboard, leaving horrified viewers unsure of his fate (Lutz, 2015). The live television footage, broadcast to millions, became an uncanny reminder of one of the most uncomfortable aspects of surf culture: shark attacks. In fiction, memoir and creative nonfiction writing about surfing that acknowledges the underlying threat sharks represent, their presence in the line-up is referred to using euphemisms, ‘men in grey suits’ (Orgias, 2012), their impact is compared to being hit by a car with teeth (Adolph, 2019), and the aftermath of their interactions with humans is either horrific and tragic, or the inspiration for stories of resilience and adaptation (McAloon, 2016). The depiction of sharks in surfing culture is either darkly humorous or steeped in mythology (McCarthy, 2020). It is for these reasons the depictions fit within a Gothic tradition. My previous work on Australian coastal Gothic writing (Hawryluk, 2020) describes a place with underlying Gothic tones. The town of Ballina on the Far North Coast of New South Wales is one such place, becoming known internationally for a spate of shark attacks between 2015-2016 (McVeigh, 2016). This paper adds to existing Australian coastal Gothic writing and research focused on surf culture and depictions of interactions between surfers and sharks. A suite of my creative nonfiction poetry featured within demonstrates the Gothic elements present in Ballina’s history of shark attacks, interactions, and the way the town and its surfers have responded to its reputation as ‘shark city’ (Smith, 2016).' (Publication abstract)

'This article surveys published narratives about surfing and sharks in Australia over the past century, mapping representations across various genres and forms of writing. These narratives include works of non-fiction (including for younger readers), memoir, travel writing, humour and other long-form creative nonfiction. This writing has been analysed using thematic analysis to provide an Anthropocene-informed reading of changing attitudes interactions and to sharks themselves.' (Publication abstract)

'This paper examines the first 90 years (from 1849 to 1940) in the development of surf fiction. It focuses on how, at the genre’s beginnings, the view taken of surfing was shaped by the colonial worldview, with its attendant super-narrative of white cultural and individual superiority, marginalisation of non-white traditions, and disrespect for others’ values and practices. The period can be divided into two phases. The first extended from 1849 to 1920 with pioneering novels by Herman Melville, R. M. Ballantyne and others, including Jack London’s ‘The Kanaka Surf’ (1916), the long short story which we claim brought surf fiction to a new-found maturity in terms of cultural respect. The second phase, from 1921 to 1940, included lesser writers Stuart Martin, Don Blanding and Claude La Belle whose novels continued to trace the white world’s attempt to come to terms with the cultural and racial influence that surfing had begun to exert. Most surf-depicting fiction in this first 90 years was set in Hawaii and written in the Adult Adventure or Boys Adventure genres. This article examines how early surf fiction traced the impact of indigenous-based surfing on imperial- based white thinking, and proposes that some creative writers were sensitive to the on-going cultural appropriation of surfing and the lessons surfing could teach the colonialists about individual, racial and cultural respect. When the earliest creative writers tried to surf, they admitted they were inferior, but they admired Pacific Islander expertise. During the first 90 years of surf fiction, the narrative perspective moved from the colonial observer gaze to the participant view. Fiction sought to outline the growing Western awareness that surfing would be a key influence on cross-cultural thinking.' (Publication abstract)