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'Boy, Lost was the book that was never going to be written. Was nearly not written. The following account is partly an answer to my own question: why not? And its echo: then why was it? It is also an attempt to understand one of the central and most vexed questions not just of this book but of the writing of memoir, a genre grounded in claims to knowledge and memory, in assumptions about the nature of 'truth'. (Introduction 55)
Notes
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Editor's note: This essay was originally an address given in the Patons' lecture series run by the Association for the Study of Australian Literature in Toowoomba, March 2015.
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Last amended 15 Feb 2016 07:02:30
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