'Over eight chapters, Decolonising Animals launches an ambitious project across a series of essays from diverse disciplines, continents and cultures. Spanning animal agency, colonial and Indigenous worldviews, decolonisation and the preservation of the natural world, the authors explore what it might mean to decolonise animals, as well as contend with cognate questions beyond colonialism. Decolonising Animals is a useful collection for any reader interested in Indigenous scholarship, environmentalism, decolonial practice, animal studies, literature and archaeology. Nevertheless, it is, as the editor acknowledges, a ‘beginning’ that ‘defers questions of radical change’ (16). What it does offer, however, is vital context for particular histories, experiences and ongoing conflicts around animals that are often narrated aculturally but are in fact embedded in distinct colonial frameworks. There are two key ways that Decolonising Animals highlights the cultural and historical circumscription of animal studies: by continually drawing on a shared human place in the animal kingdom, within which non-human animals have their own agency, and foregrounding the colonial lens that overlays histories of and approaches to animals in the twenty-first century.' (Introduction)
'Raymond Longford and Lottie Lyell’s 1919 adaptation of C.J. Dennis’s vastly popular 1915 verse novel, The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke, has long been regarded as the great classic of surviving Australian silent films, yet relatively little has been written about how text and image relate to each other within it. This article begins with a consideration of Dennis’s poems in the context of the contemporary fashion for dialect verse, which paradoxically represented comic, semi-literate speakers for the entertainment of an increasingly literate mass audience, often through popular recitals in which the magic lantern show offered an early model of incorporating poetry with projected images. It is argued that Longford and Lyell’s deployment of Dennis’s text in the form of first-person expository intertitles implies that Arthur Tauchert’s performance as Bill, the Bloke, may itself be read as a kind of filmic ‘recital’. This has implications for the different ways in which his patois has been ‘picturised’ throughout, and two scenes are analysed in detail: ‘The Play’, where Bill famously first encounters Shakespeare, and ‘The Stroot ’at Coot’, where he vanquishes a middle-class rival. Against the artifice of Dennis’s ‘larrikinese’, the film unfolds through a naturalistic style of acting and direction that, while it incorporates earlier modes of popular performance, also reimagines them into a style of comic, dramatic irony.' (Publication abstract)
'A literary tapestry that unfolds like a vibrant mosaic, The Cambridge Companion to the Australian Novel offers a wide-ranging and insightful overview of this rich national literary tradition, inviting readers to wander through the intricate passages of Australian storytelling. Editors Nicholas Birns and Louis Klee have assembled an impressive array of contributors, including eminent scholars and emerging voices, to analyse the historical development and contemporary innovations of the Australian novel. For students new to the field as well as specialists, this volume serves as an indispensable guide to a body of fiction that has gained increasing global prominence.' (Introduction)
'The 2017 Marriage Law Postal Survey marked a historic moment for the gay community in Australia, as it resulted in same-sex unions being recognised under law. For novelists, this historic change served as the impetus to re-evaluate the position of gay men as queer subjectivity became more articulable through the market and was no longer excluded from the social mainstream or, in Marxist terminology, totality. This presents a challenge: how do writers dispense with outdated taxonomies of oppression, while still identifying the unique ways in which those who exist along axes of sexual difference continue to be exploited and oppressed? This article examines The Pillars (2019) by Peter Polites and The Adversary (2020) by Ronnie Scott to identify ways in which this nascent dimension of gay life is being depicted in fiction, arguing that gay fiction in Australia can meaningfully represent, and critique, its relation to capitalism. ' (Publication abstract)
'So often literature provides us with metaphors and allusions to enrich our lives, though sometimes, just ever so occasionally, an event occurs in the outside world that offers up an intriguing analogy to revive a text that has been forgotten. Despite winning the Miles Franklin Literary Award in 1970, A Horse of Air and its author, Dal Stivens, have faced an extinction not dissimilar to the object of the novel’s allegorical search: the Night Parrot. The rediscovery of the latter in 2013 in far Western Queensland presents an intriguing analogy for the revitalisation of the former’s important work. Last definitively seen alive in the 1870s, the Night Parrot remained for over one hundred years alluring yet unfindable, akin to a flying thylacine, forever fluttering beyond reach: it was the ‘white whale of the bird-watching world’ (Carvan); the ‘avian nut that refuses to crack’ (Olsen 1). Likewise, although Dal Stivens was once one of Australia’s most visible and prolific (albeit enigmatic) writers, since the 1987 republication of A Horse of Air, and his subsequent death in 1997, both the author and his novel have slowly receded into the obscurity of the remote interior. Despite inspiring writers, poets, filmmakers and naturalists alike, Stivens’s influential depiction of the Night Parrot remains critically and popularly underappreciated. This paper proposes to use the rediscovery of the Night Parrot in 2013 as the impetus to revive Stivens’s finest work by examining his textual encounter with this inscrutable bird figure.' (Publication abstract)
'Ruth Park’s novels The Harp in the South (1948) and Poor Man’s Orange (1949) portray a fictional Irish-Australian family living in the actual inner-city neighbourhood of Surry Hills. The poor, immigrant status of the Darcys is foregrounded in the novels from the start, yet equally important is the character of Aboriginal man Charlie Rothe, who is introduced in Chapter 14 of The Harp in the South. This essay suggests that Charlie’s late arrival is the reverse of the non-fictional situation evoked in the opening of Park’s The Companion Guide to Sydney (1973), in which the author imagines the First Fleet’s entry into a place that was already occupied. The issue of ‘first-ness’, and what comes after, is central to Park’s narration of both family intimacy and romantic love between her Irish Australians and latecomer Charlie. Highlighting enigmatic descriptions of Charlie’s Aboriginal parentage and ancestry and associating this language with the appropriative desire felt by each of the Darcy sisters, I argue that the character of Charlie is pivotal to Park’s exploration of themes of imitation, borrowing, possession and (belated) recognition.' (Publication abstract)
