The Believer by Sarah Krasnostein

 Encounters with love, death and faith.

 

Our final book of the year, for our November meeting, was Sarah Krasnostein's The believer. The meeting was well attended, and included one of our former members, which was a lovely surprise.

 

This non-fiction work is another example of her exploring people’s lives who live on the ‘boundaries’ of the general public. In her award-winning previous book, The Trauma Cleaner she told us about Australians who have very complicated and dangerous lives due to poverty and domestic abuse, and issues with gender and mental health. In this book she investigates people in Australia and in America who are challenged by their faith in God through unusual faith ‘paths’ and by their beliefs in ghosts and UFOs, cancer sufferers with huge issues, and a woman who faced terrible domestic abuse and the legal consequences of her actions. 

 

There are 6 stories of believers interwoven into 53 chapters so the reader is constantly having to recognise and ‘accept’ the character and the circumstance of the person or people being written about. There were many ‘light bulb’ moments too where the author showed her brilliant intelligence and respect and compassion for these people and gave us insights. Most of us enjoyed it more than we expected.

 

‘In each case (ie the 6 stories), I needed to understand them, these people I found unfathomable, holding fast to faith in ideas that went against the grain of more accepted realities’. (page 2)

 

First impressions 

• I admire her writing but I found the characters challenging as I do not understand how they can believe some of the ideas expressed.
• It is well written, lots of anecdotes rather than science and the question of ‘why’, which intrigues me more. I enjoyed the autobiographical moments.
• I was not sure whether it was short stories or a monograph but thought the structure was better that way, otherwise it would have dragged if each story was sequential.
• Krasnostein is a wonderful story teller about slightly painful people such as Freddy and Rhonda. Annie, the Death Doula, is a beautiful portrayal of a woman where Krasnostein is engaging with the characters.
• The whole topic is an emotional one and we admire Krasnostein for those portrayals. There are particular characters, mainly women, who stand out, such as Lynn, who was incarcerated for many years after killing her abusive husband. Her sentence was extended unnecessarily and unfairly. The Mennonites are another interesting thread. The creation scientist, Georgia Purdom was interesting in the audio book version, as she was deaf and the reader sounded as if she was deaf reading her narrative. 
• As a former Life Line councillor I found it intensely interesting as Krasnostein has incredible insights into the philosophy and psychology of these people. I would have preferred more analysis at the conclusion (which was a preference from many of us).  
• Her observations of the human condition were excellent and her fairness and respect for some of these odd characters is admirable. 
• I found it hard going as there was no structure. I expected a thesis with examples to illustrate with an essay at the end but it wasn’t there. I liked some of the characters such as Annie and Lynn but not the creationists. One can only be amazed by people who think the Ark had little dinosaurs on it who could be vegetarian for the duration. 
• I found the book annoying but engaging. I was struck by the tragedy of Lynn, her life sentence in gaol and her resilience. Also drawn to the characters of the lost pilot, Fred, and Annie, the Death Doula. I was struck by the dissonance with the Brian Cox show which is presently being shown on ABC TV where he discounts any form of life on other planets. 
• I like to read to ‘get into’ other worlds and I found the 6 worlds completely different from mine. It was a bit patchy but I enjoyed it. The 6 subjects could be divided into 2 personal, 2 religious and 2 ‘other world’ stories. I also liked her exploration of how some people crave certainty and control, and how these ‘needs’ lead people to believe in conspiracy stories. This helped explain, for me, how some people have become susceptible to anti-vaccination propaganda etc during the pandemic. I love books which end up with questions.
• I was interested in the stories but I didn’t engage with it. I have just read the book: The tattooist of Auschwitz by Heather Morris which is an excellent read. 
• Having recently suffered a bereavement I found this book was talking to me with some of the characters, especially Katrina who is dying from cancer. I was particularly drawn to the sad story of Krasnostein’s grandmother living as a Jewish child and barely surviving the second world war. Her difficult childhood had an effect upon her daughter (Sarah’s mother) and those difficulties influenced Sarah. Sarah realises, as she's writing this book, that she 

‘… had been born into a line of missing mothers’.  (page 74). 

 

Discussion

 

There were certain characters who were amazing as we have said in our first impressions, such as Annie and Lynn. They were leading complex lives but showed resilience and strength of character in the rough and tumble. They were empowering themselves and others by their strengths and being ‘rocks’. 

 

Sarah Krasnostein’s own searching for ‘belief’ comes through. ‘If I could only ask the right questions I could understand’. You need answers but the questions are more interesting.

She gives beautiful personal insights, ‘finding a psychologist worked for me’.  So in some ways this book is a personal journey. As the author is a Jewish woman the Christians/Mennonites did not try to convert her we felt. 

 

The choir was interesting as they were united by emotions.

 

The people are so variant in the ways they see the world. I can see my own childhood in Loisann’s childhood, said one member. So there is common humanity that unites us and which is empowering. 

 

We admired the way the author is so respectful of the people she interviewed such as: Freddy’s fiancée even though the sentiments expressed by Rhonda ‘got to her’ at times; we laughed about the Buddhist monk living as a lodger in Annie’s garden; and we were amazed at the dignity of Lynn, the ex-prisoner who had suffered so much and was still so selfless. The injustices perpetrated on Lynn were concealed under disorder according to one of our members, especially see ch. 42. In 1970s America when Lynn was convicted of killing her husband, self-defence was not a permissible legal claim by a woman but it was allowed for men convicted of a murder. This was a lightbulb moment for some members.

 

We discussed the fear Mennonites expressed of education, especially higher education. It poses a threat to their understanding of the world, and particularly of the Bible. See especially chapter 40.

 

‘Anthony’s conflict comes from the fact that the certainties he received instead of education are poor tools for daily living …’ (page 258).

 

And 

 

‘Theology always scares me because it takes the things that seem simple and makes them complex.’ (page 259)

 

Ms Krasnostein also comments on the Mennonite’s naivety such as exhibited by the Krieder family. They had no idea that families could be homeless in New York so easily. It is as if they are living on a separate planet. They have no concept of the people’s lives living nearby and  no understanding of the structural inequities faced by these folk. See particularly pages 313-314.

 

We talked at some length about the structure of this book. The criss-cross of the stories made it harder to get into but we also wondered whether it would have been boring or at least not as interesting if each story was written straight through. One reader found the spook parts less integrating than the ‘ufologists’. 

 

We all admired her writing style, with one member describing it as quite poetic in places.

 

The stories are based on fact as shown by the story of Fred, the young pilot who went missing. Internet searches will produce the details just as Krasnostein relates them.

 

We decided that the apparent alien spacecraft was probably just an illusion created by the light or some other banal explanation.

 

Human beings seek meaning in life and sometimes we look for patterns, which is why the US government has just announced a new UFO office to be set up to examine various sightings of unexplained objects in the sky.   

  

We decided that if Sarah Krasnostein had analysed the characters according to psychology, it would have been a very different type of book from the one we read. In this work the reader takes a journey and respects the characters no matter what we think of their ideas and life styles.

 

One member mentioned Roger Ailes who worked for Fox news and was influential in their portrayal of ‘facts’ for many years. Some of the people in this book want certainty, which suggests they would be influenced by news channels such as Fox which portray the world in simplistic black and white terms. 

 

We also talked a little about seances and how people can be convinced of things which are not true – eg moving of the board or trying to find answers. People want certainty. 

 

Belief is fascinating – such as a belief in ufos and aliens. 

 

We found Krasnostein’s account of her grandmother’s and mother’s relationship and her own connection to these women so affected by being Jewish and living through the second world war revealing. The author herself is searching for answers just like her interviewees  (pp. 71-73).

 

In talking about the Creation Museum we liked the quoting of Hannah Arendt – knowledge for thought, converting fact into meaning, but truth isn’t meaning. 

 

‘To sit in the lecture is to experience a great untethering from what Hannah Arendt called the “human world”. …shared world of stable processes, laws and institutions which create the conditions for social negotiations and the pursuit of common goals…’ (pp. 43- 45)

 

An unusual book but quite pertinent to our present times.

Book recommendations

Just one book came up this month: The believing brain by Dr Michael Shermer.  The recommender felt it was an excellent book which explains how beliefs are born. It sounds very pertinent to our times. 

 

Present: 10 plus our special guest.

Griffith Review 68, Getting on

Our August book, issue no 68 of the literary journal, Griffith Review, was a departure from our usual fare, and yet, although only a third of us read it all, its selection was unanimously approved. Why? Because this issue's topic, Getting on, or aging, was right up our alley. We started, of course, with our ...

First impressions

• Enjoyed it, albeit was sometimes confronting, sometimes heartwarming, a sometimes a bit over the head.
• Also enjoyed it overall, and also found it confronting in places. Liked that it opened with Garner, and enjoyed some of the poems.
• Liked that it offered much to think about .
• Thought that Sarah Holland-Batt's essay "Magical thinking and the aged-care crisis" set the scene well. Was interested in topics like the failure of the health care system, genetics and the definition of ageing. Enjoyed learning new information. Some pieces were very moving, but not all were specifically about ageing. 
• Loved it all. Every piece had something intellectually interesting to offer about "getting on"; enjoyed the less scientific ones most. 
• Read most of it but found some too depressing and others too scientific. Liked the Vicki Laveau-Harvie piece, having heard her at the Canberra Writers Festival.
• Felt it was apposite for us to read, but found it a challenge. However, liked that it challenges our thinking about what sort of aged care we'd like, and thought it offered much food for thought.
• Read all but last piece, and found it very profound, very moving, overall. So many good articles. Was particularly interested in the Mark Aarons piece about his long road to diagnosis, and could empathise, from her own experience of being an intern, with Melanie Cheng. 
• Is a Griffith Review subscriber. Found the Garner opening piece a bit mystifying until she got to the end. Enjoyed Kathy Marks "A life in books" and Caroline Baum's "The hungry years". Was interested that many of the pieces were from people in the 60s, with nothing really from 80-somethings to provide an aged perspective. 
• Read it all and really liked it. Particularly liked Sarah Holland-Batt and Beth Mohle's essays on the aged care system. Amused that one of the unrealistic fantasies described by Holland-Batt - "a geriatric co-op" style plan - was proposed by Burkitt for Gen Xers!

Favourites

Some of us nominated our favourites. One really liked Ailsa Piper's "Old Growth", because Piper is happy to admit to being old, saying "I like saying I'm old!" Our member sees so many people being "in denial". Other favourites included Sarah Holland-Batt's "Magical thinking and the aged care crisis" (3), Kathy Marks' "A life in books" (2) and Beth Mohle's "System failure". Honourable mentions included Helen Garner's "The invisible arrow" and Frank Brennan's "Contemporary loss". One member named Glenn A Albrecht's "One hundred years of sumbiotude"the most obscure article. 

Specific "stories" that individual members liked included that about the grand-daughter who was surprised by how forward-thinking her grandmother was, and the one (in Frank Brennan, "Contemporary loss") about the dying man whose family brought in his paintings to hang on the wall which resulted in conversations that helped personalise relationships between patient, family and staff.

Discussion

With such a diverse set of essays/memoirs/reports/fiction/poems, it was hard to have a coherent discussion, so this report will be a bit "scatty" ...

Of course we talked mostly about aged care in general, referencing in particular Holland-Batt and Mohle for their excellent analyses of the current situation, including how we got here, and for their thoughts about where to next. One member particularly liked Mohle's discussion of the new role of Nurse Navigator that's been created in Queensland and which seen significant reductions in Emergency presentations and overall hospitalisation. Both authors decried the Aged Care Act (1997) which contains no standards, no requirements for transparency or accountability.

We discussed the fact that some articles, such as Jane R Goodall's, discussed the idea of developing the role of "elders" and what this might mean. A couple of us liked Goodall's statement that:

The call of the elders is not to dwell on the past, but to renew awareness of our roots in it, and our place in a longer time scheme.

We also talked a little, though not in great depth, about euthanasia and assisted dying. We liked Blatt's idea of "magical thinking", such as the idea some people have that they will be in a position to take themselves out. We also noted the discussion in Andrew Stafford's "Dying wish" regarding the fine line between euthanasia/assisted dying and palliative care.

Dementia naturally came up a few times during the discussion. Several were interested in the articles which described the different types of dementia. We all felt that dementia would make a big difference to the experience of aging and the sort of care we might need or accept. All bets could be off in terms of our self-determination!

Other takeaways (or things learned) from the book, included:

• Mohle's extortion not to catastrophise old age.
• The idea that being young is positive and being old negative.
• Charlotte Wood's finding that you die as you live: if you are angry or grumpy during your life you are likely to be like that in your final years. We laughed at her concern about when you should reset your default position!
• The problems of food and eating in old age due to swallowing problems.

In terms of our own feelings about aging, we were generally positive. We felt overall that that there are big advantages to being an older person, that when you are old you can speak your mind more. Most of us seem to enjoy being old, appreciating the opportunity it offers us to express our ideas, the increased time we have to follow our passions. We noted, concurring with Holland-Batt, that our generation is more focused on self-determination versus previous generations which tended to accept authority and do what they were told.

Of course, we shared our various experiences of the aged care system, mostly through our parents. A couple commented that what they looked like loss of agency, from their point of view, wasn't how their parent felt. In other words, it's hard to know how we will feel, how we will perceive the world when we are much older and more frail. One talked about how her mother, who had dementia, initially ended up in a psychiatric facility rather than an aged care one. Another remembered her father's comment that growing old involves having to accept loss, which is expressed in Piper's article as ageing being a continual process of letting go. 

There was some discussion about the volume overall. One commented on the order of the pieces, how it started with 77-year-old established author Helen Garner, and closed with a 70-something debut author, Vicki Laveau-Harvie. She also liked the segues, or links, between the pieces. Another commented that the voices contained in the volume were primarily middle-aged or 60-somethings, and that there were no real aged voices. (We admitted, though, that not too long ago people in their 60s were seen as aged). It sent her back to a book published in 1979, Ellen Newton's This bed my centre, which chronicles the experiences of a 70-something woman with angina who spent 6 years in a nursing home.

Other works/activities we were reminded of, included:

• Lisa Genova's Still Alice (book/movie)
• Kate Grenville's One life: My mother's story
• Ellen Newton's This bed my centre (mentioned above)
• Webinars being run by Dementia Australia

In conclusion we agreed that it's hard to see how current trends in aged care will pan out given the significant aging of the population. We noted the lessons, that we all know already, such as that exercise, social interaction and good diet are factors that can help us have a good old age. Returning, as we often did during the discussion, to Sarah Holland-Batt we considered her comment that current aged care practice demonstrates a failure of imagination. We'd love to see more imagination - such as along the lines presented by writers like Mohle and Burkitt - applied to the problem. We wondered what impact COVID might have on policies and practices in the future. Will the return to being more people and community-focused that we are currently experiencing carry through to all sorts of people-related policies.  

Finally, one member said she loved the ending of Helen Garner's piece "The invisible arrow". Faced with the idea that his grandmother might stop writing, Garner's grandson said he wouldn't like her to do that.

"Why not?"

"Because," butts in his twelve-year-old brother, bouncing his football in a forceful rhythm, "it shows we exist"

Noice!

Present: 10 members

Anita Heiss' Growing up Aboriginal in Australia

This challenging book highlights the racism prevalent in Australia both in the past and the present. It is the stories of 50 people who have had it ‘tough’ by non-Indigenous standards.  The writings are by young and old as well as males and females from all across Australia. Some of the writers are well known but many are not. It includes anecdotes, experiences, childhood fears and a few happy times. It also includes the story of a young woman, Alice Either (only 29), who suicided. The book is dedicated to her and others ‘who were lost too soon’.

Many of the stories talk about identity and not fitting into Australian society; they also talk about education and recognition of their otherness and their Aboriginality. They share a great pride in being Indigenous and having access to such a long lasting culture.

As always, we started with …

First impressions

• Lots of themes, but feelings of sadness and grief
• Very glad to have read it.
• Repetitive stories, and even boring at times
• Feelings of positive strength expressed by many contributors.
• Triumph against the odds.
• Questions of whether you are Indigenous or Australian – too white in some circumstances and too dark at other times or venues – frequent mention of this problem
• Comments made about colour by both non-Indigenous people and Indigenous people themselves.
• Genuine humility felt by some.
• Not everything that happens relates to someone’s race, sometimes it is just ‘stuff’ about kids growing up and especially through their teenage years – it can be good and bad for any child, eg parents passing, domestic violence or poverty.
• Some stories very ‘touching’.
• Certain earnestness to many of the stories.
• ‘I melted’ when the author talked about country and how they appreciated their custodianship of country rather than ownership.
• Quite a small group of people contributed – all highly articulate and these were selected from 120 submissions sent in – only a small selection of views but lots of common elements.
• Stolen generation stories particularly sad and challenging
• Happy childhoods relatively eg Adam Goodes and Patrick Johnson

General discussion

There was a lot of discussion of colour. During their childhoods some writers were accused of being too white to be Aboriginal. These people felt hurt by comments like that.  Many of the writers have one parent non-Indigenous and one Indigenous.  Interestingly, many of the white parents were Irish. There is a lovely story by Miranda Tapsell about being a Spice girl fan. She was designated by others to be Scary Spice for a dress up party but her favourite was Baby Spice.  However Miranda is amazingly tolerant by saying :

‘Poor Sissy, she was conditioned like all of us to believe brown people could only be Scary’. (page 235)

Tolerance is a common thread through these texts.

We were saddened by the poem by Alice Eather. It is so sad that she died.

We were impressed that many contributors were willing to share their stories, trying to overcome stereotyping of Aboriginal people who have to contend with drugs and domestic violence. There is a realisation that they are similar people to us but they often have to make a conscious effort to find out where they come from. Dislocation was a common theme and it has had a very physical and emotional toll upon many of the writers. The question of handouts received by these people was often very insensitive. They are Australians but they have complicated lives. We questioned ourselves and other non-Indigenous people about our reactions to these stories. Ignorance and lack of empathy is behind much of the racism. Also people not choosing to find out more. 

There are stories of some positive discrimination too. A few writers were awarded scholarships to schools, universities and a sporting academy.

There is a terrifying story by Kerry Reed-Gilbert entitled: "The little town on the railway track". The crux of the story is quite horrific. At night a group of non-Indigenous men try to frighten and intimidate Kerry’s mother and siblings, but the town policeman is about the most racist person present. Fortunately, Kerry’s Mum is strong and forthright; she contacts the policeman’s boss and he is sent elsewhere.

The stories by stolen generation people or their descendants were very sad and very moving. So we relished the good stories such as that told by Adam Goodes highlighting simple pleasures such as trying out different types of sport. He is a marvellous role model, in mentioning hard work and a good work ethic, as well as loving what you do and having fun. (p103)

Pride in being Aboriginal is a strength of this book. Much pride is shown of parents and grandparents in many families who were leaders in their communities. Many also value highly their mothers and grandmothers who often were their sole parent. These women were wonderful role models.

We were impressed by the different perspectives as they came from many backgrounds including those of domestic abuse, drugs and violence. The writers' willingness to share their perspective is admirable.  Some of their backgrounds were disjointed but this also happens in the non-Indigenous community. White society is still too ready to rely on stereotyping Indigenous people.

Overall it seems that for younger Indigenous people, life is getting better than it was for their forbears. 

Deborah Cheetham’s story was fascinating. She was brought up in a white family. We really liked her story about trying to make the national anthem more applicable to all Australians.

Another common theme is resilience. It is a character feature that writers felt was essential for living in Australia. The parents often stressed it and emphasised that you just have to keep going and be brave. Developing a ‘shell’ helps.   

Another thread was knowing you are Indigenous but hiding it because it is embarrassing, but as you age accepting it so maturity helps. This is happens in migrant lives in Australia too.

There was one ‘story’ many of us found very difficult to understand – Alison Whittacker’s  Aboriginemo. Alison is a Gomeroi poet and lawyer from the Tamworth Gunnedah region of NSW. She writes in this manner as she wants readers to ponder her words. See her interview by Suburban review, April 28, 2016.

A couple of members had Aboriginal children in their classes at school, in Mt Isa and in country Victoria.  One member has worked with groups assisting Indigenous people with their financial issues. But the majority of us have had little contact.

This book was suggested by a member who wanted to read it. We were all pleased that we had read it too.

There is an audible version of this book newly available.

Present: 9 members

Position doubtful by Kim Mahood

This month a select group of Minervans read the memoir, Position doubtful. We greatly enjoyed Kim’s writing. It has such fascinating and thoughtful passages on cross-cultural thinking.  We agreed that the general public’s acceptance of Australia’s Indigenous culture is taking a very long time.

We were reminded of a story by Mahood in 'The invisible thread' which …describes herself being in community and being responsible for providing assets/transport/facilities for others. Another book we thought of in relation to this memoir is Bill Gammage’s The biggest estate on Earth, how Aborigines made Australia.

Position doubtful is a combination of memoir, Aboriginal history, European history, Indigenous languages versus English, art of both cultures, geography of north western Australia  (WA and NT) and a story of her relationships with the people she grew up with.  It has many threads and it combines them with lyrical passages of description and philosophy.

Some of the themes discussed by Mahood and by us:

• maps and landscapes, and interrelationships between the two
• maps and different perspectives
• maps and art - for instance with grids overlaying
• maps and language – abstraction and metaphor  
• horizon lines and perspectives – First nation people look at the horizon in art very differently from westerners (eg the paintings in the Canning Stock Route exhibition at the NMA some years ago and works from this region held at the NGA)

The mapping impulse was likely one of the drivers of human cultural evolution; and maps, the physical expression of that impulse, come to us freighted with the wonder of burgeoning human consciousness.’ (in chapter (Mapping common ground -- 63% in the kindle) 

(I have never thought about maps in this way—she is quite brilliant!)

As well as learning about these ‘map’ and ‘art’ matters we also learnt a lot about Mahood, herself.

Kim Mahood is very honest by stating her motivation for writing this book is to tell of her experiences working with the local people of the region where she grew up – near the Tanami Desert and the Aboriginal communities of Balgo and Mulan (East Kimberley).

Mahood is an artist in painting terms as well as a writer but can also play the subject occasionally. We discussed her slightly passive aggressive attitude to her friend Pam who ‘used’ Kim as the model in her arty photographs. She had to play a role in the desert as Violet, but she felt that she was a ‘female impersonator …  feminised self who has never existed’ (30%) or as a strange creature (eg covered in red mud). This is not Mahood’s persona at all – completely opposite actually. She much prefers the stockman’s role rather than the farmer’s wife and domesticity.

Mahood has been visiting this region for short sojourns (about 3 months) for over 20 years working, with the local people (especially the elders), offering help with their art or their lives in any way she can. (In her first celebrated book – Craft for a dry lake-- she describes the difficult return to her former home after about 20 years away.) The life up there is in strong contrast to the life we imagine she lives near Canberra as an artist, writer and teacher. Having grown up in this outback community she has certain rights that are advantageous for her work, such as deep knowledge of the culture and a depth in her relationships, including having a genuine skin name from her childhood.  Her skin name of Naparrula is precious for her and the locals. She acquired it as a baby: 'I belong to the skin group with traditional links to Tanami Downs.’ (Chapter Vertigo, 10% ). Such benefits help her navigate the politics of the community. Sometimes the community is very confronting even for a person who grew up nearby and knows the tensions and problems. She is understated in the book about these issues, but it is very clear that there are retribution and violence issues present frequently.

We discussed how Native Title has brought tensions with it, while everybody tries to work out the parameters of ownership. In this Mahood never labours the point. An ongoing issue one of our members mentioned is hearing impairment and the difficulties and problems for children. She has knowledge through her work of this ongoing health, educational and social issue in remote areas of Australia.

Mahood has the right to discuss the environment (in the social sense) because of her affinity with the local people but also because she told them she was writing this book and she actually read out bits of it to them. They obviously trust her and rely on her. (My conclusion is that we can rely on her being accurate in her writing.) We also realized that she is a strong woman – just driving that far by herself in worn out vehicles is testament to that. She is not a pushover in regard to the local larrikins and what they expect of her.

She writes of a visit to Sturt Creek . She initially thinks only a few people will travel with her and it ends up being a huge number. However she copes.

Mahood also talks a lot about tragedies and sadnesses. She mentions the massacre and many deaths of the local people she knows well. She was particularly close to many of the older women and is distressed by the deaths of these friends. Many of these women she knew as a child and she has a deep affection for them. She describes them and their families with great sensitivity, explaining that many of these women are elders in the community and take responsibility for passing on culture and language to the young ones. These women are also the strong ones in the community with a fierce determination to improve lives. White culture needs to own up to the truth of these stories of massacre and violence.

However Mahood does not dwell on these matters for too long but regards them unsentimentally.

We also discussed briefly how Mahood introduces archeology to some of the local people by telling them about the scientific work done by archeologists such as Jim Bowler. She invites him to visit Mulan and ‘to travel gathering and recording both scientific and traditional information’. (31%) Mahood is farsighted in bringing the two views together. Bowler had done some exploring in the seventies in this region so was aware of the possibilities. (See also chapter Dotting the grid, 67%).

 

We also discussed the differences she observes with the properties now being managed by Aboriginal groups in comparison with the old days of white pastoralists.  Her former home is one such place. It is now called Tanami Downs not ‘Mongrel station’. Managing the country depends so much on personal qualities and skills.

We also discussed the irony of the title – it relates to how white people feel in that remote part of Australia, as well as how many of the local inhabitants feel, and as a position on a map. (Its literal geographic meaning is mentioned in her first book in a more mundane way.)

Another comment made was that Mahood experiences landscape at a physiological level. Place can enter one’s psyche. How do we relate to place? Some people love the desert and others love the sea. Do we as white Australians have the right to love a place where other people live and have always lived? We don’t have Indigenous values or the same relationship with the land but many of us love it. Do we have the right to express this?

One white artist who loves this land is Mandy Martin. ‘Martin has built an artistic oeuvre on painting the Australian landscape, depicting it in Romantic Sublime style as a threatened space and an aesthetic resource.’ (Chapter Mapping common ground, 78%)    

Her writing is superb and thought provoking – eg ‘the names have found their way to you along a whispered thread of folklore’ (Chapter 1,The remembered earth, 1% ). Her thinking about place and landscape is very thoughtful, for instance:

I wonder sometimes if the time I’ve spent in the desert has compromised my access to the deep psychology of my own culture – replaced the collective unconscious with the shadowy glimpses of a place-based collective conscious, and sentenced me to wander in the borderlands between Jung and geography. 

(It is a book to be studied in great depth.)

One small objection we all had whether we read it in paperback form or on the kindle was that the illustrations are terrible. You just cannot see the details of the maps or the photographs. This was a great pity for a book which talks so much about place and maps.

I would also like to recommend an interviewwith the historian Darrell Lewis where he talks about the travels of Leichhardt in the far corner of Western Australia. I found this fascinating.

Dark emu, by Bruce Pascoe

For our October meeting we decided to meet at the now one-year-old Canberra restaurant, Muse (Food Wine Books), which is located in the East Hotel, Kingston. It's a cosy cafe/restaurant which includes a stylish independent bookshop selling new books and a selection of nicely presented second-hand books. Now, being women who like to eat well and chat, we decided the order of business would be a drink and main course, followed by our book discussion, followed by dessert and coffee/tea. The plan worked well and we spent a very enjoyable three hours, with the Muse staff looking after us well.

But now, let's get to the book, Bruce Pascoe's Dark Emu: Black seeds: Agriculture or accident. In it he presents a case for "a reconsideration of the 'hunter-gatherer' tag for pre-colonial Aboriginal Australians" and "suggests that systems of food production and land management have been blatantly understated in modern retellings of early Aboriginal history". For these reasons, he says, we should re-look at our conceptions of Australia's history.

Overall, we enjoyed the book - of course. It's important for us all to learn more about Australia's history and origins, and as more research is done by a wide variety of professionals, we are learning more about our pre- and early colonial history. Bruce Pascoe's book contributes to this knowledge. 

We enjoyed his use of explorers' journals - particularly Charles Sturt and Thomas Mitchell - to show that Aboriginals (the term he used in the book) were developing a sedentary culture based on intensification of agriculture and aquaculture. They managed the land in such a way as to corral animals for hunting, trap fish for capturing and spearing, and produce crops for harvesting. They built dwellings and lived in village groups. They practised a sustainable style of agriculture using various techniques including what archaeologist Rhys Jones called "firestick farming". Pascoe argues that there's much about Aboriginal practices that we could learn and use today, and that modern agriculture would be more sustainable in Australia if we focused on Australian plants and animals. 

However, we also felt that the book needed a close edit. Some found his style, which fluctuated between formal and chatty, disconcerting. While the book is heavily footnoted, and includes an extensive bibliography, we felt some claims were not well supported (or, at least, his evidence was not provided.) For example, he argues that Aboriginal people "did construct a system of pan-continental government that generated peace and prosperity" (p. 129) but he doesn't cite specific sources for this claim. Pascoe promoted the positives about Aboriginal governance, and while he made a brief reference to the fact that there was also violence, some of it "enshrined in the execution of law", he didn't explore this in any detail, particularly in relation to (most) Western societies' rejection of violence as a form of punishment.

One member who is currently reading Jared Diamond (Collapse) says that he argues that small societies tend, by nature, to be democratic. Diamond also refutes the commonly held view that smaller societies were peaceful, arguing that while they may not have had wars of conquest, they did have wars, such as for revenge. In other words, we felt that at times Pascoe draws a long bow and doesn't always take context into consideration.

Nonetheless, we liked much about the book. The detail about Aboriginal life - particularly from explorers' journals and photos - was generally eye-opening to us. Pascoe's arguments about their practices regarding agriculture and aquaculture, particularly in terms of sustainability, was well-supported, although we wondered if he was being a little disingenuous about the fact that the same practices and sustainability can be achieved when scaled up for mass production. We understood his criticism of European arrogance regarding their "divine right" to the land, and we also accepted his overall thesis regarding non-Aboriginal Australia ignoring Aboriginal achievement.

It was intriguing though that this thesis seemed to be that we should respect Aboriginal people's right to land because they were not "hunter-gatherers", as they've historically been seen, but a culture on the move, a culture progressing. Yet, we also understood that he might see this argument as one that Western cultures would understand and accept.

As a wonderful treat, one member brought along a piece of "show and tell", a grinding stone found by her father on the family property in the Grenfell region. Her parents, she said, thought it was a "throwing stone" and agreed that this idea probably stemmed from a lack of understanding of Aboriginal agricultural knowledge and practices.

So, we all found the book a provocative read. We completely understood Pascoe's somewhat defensive tone. There is, we know, much to learn and much to correct in terms of non-Aboriginal Australia's knowledge and understanding of Aboriginal life and culture. We felt though that the evidence is strong enough that he didn't need to push his arguments beyond what this evidence could support in order to convince us of his main thesis.

Clare Wright's The forgotten rebels of Eureka

October's meeting was more adventurous than usual with a last minute venue failure that saw us, adaptable like the women of Eureka, retiring to Tilley's Cafe in Lyneham. We settled into a capacious booth, purchased the necessary comestibles, and hunkered down to a good old round table discussion of this month's book, Clare Wright's Stella Prize winning The forgotten rebels of Eureka. We discovered that while Victorians had studied this event in some depth throughout their education, those of us from other states had studied it more cursorily, mostly in primary school, so our memories and knowledge were not necessarily strong.

Our reading and her writing

We started by discussing the different experience of reading history versus historical fiction. We've read several historical fiction novels over the years, including Eleanor Catton's The luminaries (of which we were reminded as it is set in the goldfields of New Zealand in the same period) and Hilary Mantel's two Cromwell novels. Members were aware of having to consciously change their mindset from reading a story framed around a defined set of characters to a book in which multiple people appear who may or may not carry through to the end of the book. The opening chapters of Wright's book introduces a large number of people and some worried about managing to remember them all. The need to remember a lot of "stuff" was what turned some off history at school! Others decided to go with the flow, and focus on the "story" or thesis Wright was presenting. We'll remember what we can, we thought - and, there was always the extensive index to refer to if needed.

We liked the expressiveness of Wright's writing, such as this description of George Black:

Black represented diggers who would no longer submit to tyranny; men who were desperate to asset their legitimacy after months of humiliation. The new codes smacked up against the old like waves against a cliff face. (p. 398)

Her writing beautifully captures life on the diggings. We felt we were there - living in tents in the cold, the wet, and the dusty dry. In addition to expanding our understanding of the Eureka Stockade, we saw the book as good social history. Our members in the medical professions were particularly impressed by the realistic (and horrifying) description of childbirth in those times.

One member commented on the new (old) words Wright used, and liked the fact that she often explained their meaning and derivations. "Masher" is one example:

But at night, some men cast off their utilitarian duds and slipped into evening clothes: black pants, white shirt, a red sash, patent leather boots and a black plush hat. John Deegan describes such men as swells or mashers, and says they took their sartorial cues from the Californians in their midst. The outmoded term masher is a real gem. It derives from the Romani gypsy word masha, meaning to entice, allure, delude or fascinate, and was originally used in the theatre, although it is unclear who these diggers were setting out to delude. (p. 256)

However, we did have some concerns about the writing. We felt that at times Wright resorts to clichéd or "slogan" type writing. One example concerns the police on the goldfields. She writes:

The Victorian Government paid peanuts and got the inevitable monkeys". (p. 218) 

This comment irritated at least one member as a cheap shot. Although pay is often a valid concern, the real issue, she argued, usually involves factors like training, leadership and the appropriate support. Wright frequently uses throwaway lines - like "sometimes no news is the best news" - and aphorisms. Sometimes they work, but other times we felt they impeded real communication.

It's a long book and is sometimes repetitive. For example, Wright tells us several times that Jane and Stephen Cuming named their daughter Martineau for "women's rights campaigner, Harriet Martineau". Repetition can be useful to ensure readers get a point, but we didn't feel that this point was germane to Wright's main argument.

Good history

We felt the book exemplified well-written history. We appreciated Wright's evocative, narrative-oriented style and felt that she was targeting a general audience. One member commented on the Chapter titles - such as "The winter of their discontent" and "Parting with my sex" - describing them as "hip" and sometimes "raunchy". Her aim, we thought, was to enliven history as well as to present a new way of looking at things. We liked that the work is carefully footnoted, but that it's presented in a way that did not obstruct our reading. In other words, the evidence is there if the reader wants it.

Our member who had taught history her youth, admired Wright's good historical practice in the book, which involved always starting from the primary sources. When these sources are contradictory, Wright makes this clear, as she does in her reporting of the Bentleys and the fire that destroyed their hotel. We liked Wright's effective use of statistics to support her arguments. The book draws constantly on letters, diaries, newspaper articles, and Wright regularly quotes directly from these sources, identifying them through italics.

Wright also looks at the wider global environment and how actions in other parts of the world may have played a role in what happened at Eureka, such as the Chartists, the 1848 revolutions, and Elizabeth Cady Stanton's stand with other women at Seneca Falls in 1851. She provided evidence in most of these to show a direct relationship between them and people on the Ballarat goldfields.

However, several members said that Wright "lost me" when she gave the full moon, and the likelihood that women were ovulating, as a reason for why many men left the stockade on the fateful night! This pushed the group's credulity a little too far but was, most agreed, the only point where a conclusion wasn't effectively supported by good historical evidence (albeit Wright gave reasons for her theory).

Wright's thesis

We, of course, discussed Wright's thesis which involves demonstrating that women were there on the fields and they played a significant role in the Stockade (and all that led up to it). Wright's purpose, in other words, was to uncover the role of women and to give them a presence. This means that the book is not a comprehensive history of Eureka - but the title tells us that.

Wright is strong in her opinions, but we didn't see that as a negative. It's time, after all, that women's stories are told, and it's clear from her analysis that women were involved in the goldfields at all levels, besides the traditional domestic sphere. Some worked as diggers, some ran businesses which essentially supported their families while their husbands looked for the elusive strike. Many chronicled their experiences, either privately in letters and diaries or more publicly through newspaper articles and poetry. Wright names many women - such as the doctor-cum-digger-cum-doctor's wife Martha Clendinning, the poet Ellen Young, the publican Catherine Bentley, to name just a few. Their stories are fascinating.

We also touched on other ideas and themes Wright explores, including:

• the philosophical difference between the British and their belief in law and order for the common good, and the Americans with their focus on individualism.
• the fact that, unlike the Californian goldfields, women were actively encouraged to go to Ballarat (for their civilising influence!)
• the idea that the Eureka rebellion was primarily a young people's movement, with most of the activists being 35 years or younger
• the presence of indigenous people and their relationship with the diggers (though this wasn't fully developed, as it was not her focus)

We considered the term "digger" and whether there is a direct connection between its use for miners and its adoption in the First World War as a slang term for Australian soldiers. We felt that it probably did, both in terms of resenting inappropriate authority and belief in mateship and equality.

Finally, some wondered whether Wright had another, agenda in the book. Was she making a plea for a new Australian flag. We all agreed that Australia's flag is unfinished business.

Stasiland by Anna Funder

In the happy and relaxed environment of Janet's lounge recently we discussed the tortuous, weird and scary world of East Germany during the rule by the Stasi, 1949 - 1989, (the secret police of the Communist state).  Overall assessment of the book was admiration for Anna Funder's writing style and also for her ability to honour the stories told to her without introducing her own agenda. Honesty and seediness is present -- it is left to the reader to draw her own conclusions.

It was noticed that most victims were women and mostly men were the perpetrators and Anna Funder managed to interview both, being sensitive and patient and tolerant no matter what was told to her. Truth was stranger than fiction in this time in Germany. The structure of the book is well thought out -- with a mix of victims and 'firm' recruits/employees stories being told. We even hear about how people were recruited and how one independent woman blew her cover at her factory -- if only more had been as brave and intelligent as her ! However not all were treated so kindly.

Some stories stand out, such as Miriam's, which begins and ends the book. 'She could have been responsible for the outbreak of civil war' (page 29) and yet she is willing to tell Anna about her involvement with the Stasi including having to make up stories in order to survive.  There are the people who like to have an authoritarian ruler so they don't have to think and just do their job, it made them feel safe and everyone knew their place eg Hagen Koch.  However even for him the resentment grew and he was able to grab some evidence of the craziness.

We felt amazement that people still could get on with their lives despite the conditions and the lack of information they had to cope with. The story of Julia and her Italian boyfriend is sad in lots of ways and the devastating effect on her, so she couldn't relate to men or authority or commitment later in life. The story of brave Frau Paul and her son removed to West Germany as a tiny baby only to be reunited a long time later with his parents. Frau Paul is keen to tell Anna the story so writes it down for her calling it 'The wall went straight through my heart'. How poignant ! Anna was a very empathetic listener.

 This book is a great read, oral history with great substance.