At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I've still been in the land of unpacking as I settle into my new house. It's exciting but also insanely exhausting, and I'm looking forward to everything being in and sorted. As a result of the move, I'm missing out on National Young Writers Festival too which is giving me all the sads. I hope everyone going has an insane amount of fun though! I always do. :-)
I go on and off Ryan Adams, but his 1989 cover album has been my jam all week and is a cool take on Taylor Swift's awesome album. All You Had to Do was Stay is definitely my favourite.
After I slink out of the switched-off auto
doors at the end of my shift, I have to pass through the survivors of the
night: girls in tight dresses with their shoes in their hands, mascara starting
to migrate, sitting in gutters eating McDonalds; men in patterned T-shirts and
white chisel-toed shoes with pies in their fists, staggering around blearily as
I scuttle up the street to wait for a cab and the sun to come up. The gray
light makes every face haggard. People topple out of the nightclub next door, and
the security guard nods to me in recognition. Waiting on the corner for my
lift, I’m scared of the men sloping past me. Every night the clothes I wear are
further from my uniform: jeans and ugly t-shirts, big jackets. I take my makeup
off before I go outside. The rules on the corner are not club rules.
It's hard to know what to say about this stirring and compelling memoir on working as a hostess in an Australian strip club by Sam George-Allen. Hard to know what to say other than 'read it' at least. With terrific observations, empathy and lyrical prose, it's a fascinating read.
After shooting or smoking a large
dose, there would be the tweaking and a vigil at the front window, pulling up
the corner of the blinds to look for the squads I was always convinced were on
their way. All day. All night. A frantic kind of boring. End-stage addiction is
mostly about waiting for the police, or someone, to come and bury you in your
shame.
It's hard in life and in memoir to own your faults. To lay yourself totally bare and try to identify the roadmap of your life. That's exactly what David Carr does though in this riveting and ache-inducing piece on addiction and recovery, a story told in track marks, abuse, and babies left in cars. It's wonderful and it's heartbreaking.
A
well-known effect on astronauts out on long missions is the dip at the halfway
point, when the excitement has worn off and the return home seems unbearably
distant. There is no way to know how a human mind will encounter passing the
threshold of no return, when the Earth recedes from sight, and the pitch black
enormity of deep space and the impossibility of ever turning back sinks in.
I've recommended Elmo Keep's work as a part of this Sunday Shorts series before, and honestly, I think she's one of Australia's best freelance writers working today. She's an immensely talented writer capable of making intense, academic topics accessible and emotionally engaging. It's an amazing skill to have. 'All Dressed Up for Mars and Nowhere to Go' is an incredible piece of writing detailing the Mars One project and the people attracted to it.
After the fateful conversation in my bathroom, though, I learned what it was like to love someone without forgiving her. The two halves of my relationship with my mother did not match. Most days we’d go about our lives, her betrayal far from my mind. She’d groan when I turned up the radio to a song she particularly disliked, and I’d grin back at her and then sing, in the off-key, toneless voice I’d inherited from her. Other times, she’d say something entirely innocuous and I’d be filled with a murderous rage. How could someone who claimed to love me so much have done something so horrible, I wondered.
Oh, man. I have no words for this intensely moving piece by Pakistani American writer, Mariya Karimjee on female genital mutilation. The feature beautifully and tragically captures the anger and isolation caused by FGM, but also that of change and generational differences between Mariya, her mother and grandmother. Wonderful writing.
From its very start, in 1843, Miss Porter’s has been committed not just to the old-fashioned values of charm, grace, and loyalty but to another, unspoken value as well: the ability to tough it out. Deeply ingrained in the school’s DNA, it makes the school a kind of upper-class, social Outward Bound. Throughout its history, Miss Porter’s has tested girls’ personal fortitude in a variety of ways: through academic rigor, strict rules, and rituals designed to produce anxiety and intimidate. Whatever their problems, Miss Porter’s girls were expected to buck up, not to go crying home to Daddy. Think Jackie—charming, poised, cultured, and able to smile through her husband’s many infidelities. Much has changed. Farmington—anyone over 50 who went there calls it Farmington; today’s girls say simply “Porter’s”—has gone from a sheltered, almost entirely Wasp institution to one that’s impressively diverse. But this connection to its past, this remarkable stoicism, is what makes Miss Porter’s Miss Porter’s in the eyes of students and alumnae, and they wear it as a badge of honor.
I only watched Mad Men recently, and finally got to the point where Sally gets shipped off to Miss Porter's. It took me back to this terrific article I read about the school over on Vanity Fair. It's a terrific article, one which explores the history of Miss Porter's School and American WASP culture.
In 2012, journalist Anna Krien followed the rape trial of a footballer. What follows is Night Games, a long form, investigate non-fiction book uncovering the dark underbelly of Australian football culture. From Matty Johns to Collingwood to American fratboys, Krien explores the way macho culture perpetuates misogyny, violence and rape.
In many ways, this is a difficult read, and it's a testimony to Anna Krien's writing that I inhaled it in less than a week. Her investigative style, conversational writing and tenacity at shedding light on a topic is undoubtedly compelling, and her presence within the book as both observer and participant, academic and civilian is pretty affecting. I particularly liked her swing between very difficult case studies and statistics to anecdotes, something which both lightened the mood and emphasised the case.
Before I even picked it up, a friend of mine said that it was great until the end, that Krien's reluctance to pick a side damned the last half for her. I don't entirely agree. I think it works as a subjective objective piece. Where I think it does fall down though is that we don't hear at all from Sarah, the victim of the trial the case is about. As a reader, we understand why. Sarah was incommunicado for the whole of it, and Krien's efforts to speak to her were routinely met with dead ends. That said, we needed to. We needed to understand the full effect on Sarah, needed Krien's keen, observational eye on her to fully flesh her out as Krien does Justin and Justin's passionate family. That loss is felt.
But there’s something else about Kurt Cobain that we should remember when we think about his legacy. He was a deeply flawed guy, but he was a guy who used his time in the spotlight to challenge cultural ideas about masculinity, advocate for the LGBT community, rage against ‘isms’ of all kinds, and draw attention to feminist concerns. Through his music, his interviews and his own performance of gender, he offered a different kind of rock archetype: an image of masculinity that was thoughtful, emotional, non-violent and aware of the privileges of white maleness. He didn’t always get it right, but there was a sincerity in his efforts to support the feminist cause and critique the male ideal – especially in the face of mockery and conflict. Kurt didn’t strive to be any woman’s protector or saviour, but instead, their ally and friend. And when we think about what we want from male feminists, that’s pretty freaking cool.
Rebecca Howden's written a great piece on Kurt Cobain and feminism over at the Kill Your Darlings site. It's a pretty tender and honest exploration of Cobain, faults and all, and the changing tides of punk music that Nirvana intrinsically were a part of.
Having worked at a publishing house, I know that it’s not possible for everyone who works at a publishing house to read all the books coming out that season, or even parts of them, or even the descriptions of them in the catalog or in-house “tip sheets.” But I also know that if a book is supposed to be a “big” book, everyone in the office will read it. I was a young woman, so of course they had lumped me in with the cake-girl books. But my book was not cakey. I had no idea how to explain this to people. I clearly still don’t. Knowing how obnoxious it would sound, but feeling I had to say it anyway, if only to have said it, I told them that they had to “go all out.” “Say that I’m the voice of my generation,” I told them. They looked at me like I’d emitted a long, loud, smelly fart. And so—swear to god—I amended what I’d said: “Okay, say I’m a voice of my generation.”
This is a bit of a cheat this week, but it's such a great read I couldn't resist giving it a post of its own. Emily Gould's story of having her first book published, having it flop and the behaviour that ensued is a compelling read and ultimately a cautionary tale. She's obviously a smart woman, but the way she handled it was anything but, and the way she vocalises that makes for a beautifully rendered and occasionally totally cringe-worthy story.
You can read 'How Much My Novel Cost Me'over at Medium.
Women of all kinds seek and have always sought abortion: married, single, in their twenties, thirties, and forties, teenagers. Some have no children, some have several already. Some never want children, some want children later. They are churchgoers, atheists, agnostics. They are morally upright pillars of the community, they are prostitutes. They're promiscuous, they're monogamous, they're recent virgins. They get pregnant under all kinds of circumstances: consensual sex, nonconsensual sex, sex that falls somewhere between consensual and nonconsensual. Some are drunk or using drugs, some never even touch an aspirin. Some use no birth control, some use birth control that fails.
Abortion is still such a controversial topic internationally for something that is, ultimately, the choice of one person. It's not really a secret, on that note, that I'm pro-choice, and this article by Eleanor Cooney provides a really interesting background into the legalities surrounding abortion in the United States. She's emphatic, and kind and, well, makes a whole lot of sense. She's fourthcoming about her own experience and how close she came to a dangerous backdoor abortion is both scary and rings so true. It's an important piece of writing in an time where, I think, talking about abortion is important.
- I've really liked the writing of Clementine Ford for a long while, and the article she wrote on Girls and why ugly sex is important is pretty fascinating and makes for a thoughtful read.
- This artwork by Alexa Meade and Sheila Vand is phenomenal.
- Flavorwire has a great visual history of Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar covers. I'm a total sucker for a good book cover and a bit of Plath, so this hits all my sweet spots. I love that covers lend such unique interpretations and representations of content, and all aligned like this, you really get to see it. Lovely stuff.
- To take you out for the weekend, I was excited to see Tina Fey and Amy Poehler host the Golden Globes, and they really didn't disappoint. Poehler just keeps proving that my affection and admiration in her isn't misplaced. It is awesome.
After the internet-explosion over the last few days, how could I not start this FF with Julia Gillard's address? There is a lot to love about this, and whilst people are (rightfully so) pointing out her hypocrisy regarding the GLBT community, this still means so, so much politically in Australia right now. This is a balls on the table take-down of a pretty nasty man, and given the recent influx of misogynistic attitudes politically and socially, this was an owning well-deserved. There's a really great round up of all of this stuff (and a whole lot more) over at The Wheeler Centre site by Clementine Ford, and it's definitely worth checking out.
- On a completely different note, the most recent AWM Speakeasy interview is with literary agent Sophie Hamley. It's a great insight into where agents see themselves in the industry and what she herself looks for in a work and, maybe more importantly, in the authors she chooses to represent. Things to take away seem to be a) don't be too precious and b) don't be too crazy.
7. Get into a fight with a famous science fiction author
Not
literally. Do not go punching Vernor Vinge in the face and then claim I
told you to do that. But sure, get into a fight with Vernor Vinge with
your stories. Find something about how Vinge depicted cyberspace
everting in Rainbows End, and write a story that shows how you
think he should have done it. Don't like how Max Barry depicted
cybernetic enhancements in Machine Man? Stick it to Max Barry
by writing your own take on the subject. A lot of how science fiction
has advanced, as a field, is authors trying to one-up each other and
responding to each other's takes on the same basic ideas. Even if you
don't prove everybody else wrong, you might get a really great story out
of it. (Again, do not actually get into a fight with anybody.)
- I'm basically in-love with this article on Angry Nerds & Sex, written by Siobhan Rosen.
This isn't exactly a short story, but it's kind of lovely all the same, particularly this bit:
You will fall in love with your friends. Deep, passionate love. You will
create a second family with them, a kind of tribe that makes you feel
less vulnerable. Sometimes our families can’t love us all the time.
Sometimes we’re born into families who don’t know how to love us
properly. They do as much as they can but the rest is up to our friends.
In this-is-super-exciting news, I'm pleased to announce that as of this morning(!), I am a new fortnightly online columnist for Lip, an awesome local feminist magazine. I've been a fan of there's for quite some time, and the reality of getting to contribute is leaving me borderline delirious with enthusiasm. The column is dubbed Silver Screen Sirens and I'll be chatting about representations of women in television, both genre-wise and show-specifically. You can check out my first column over here on The Newsroom. While you're at it, you should take a look at some of their other columns and articles. It's all pretty sweet stuff.
