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Louise Oxley, Ron Pretty at the Lark, Hobart

Louise Oxley and Ron Pretty read tonight at the Lark in Hobart. A small audience; possibly due to St Patrick’s Day. Format for the evening was ten minutes to each reader; a fifteen minute break; with another ten minutes each followed by questions, if any.

Ron Pretty is first to read. “In this section I’ll be reading a number of poems from a new collection to be published in May or June entitled ‘Postcards from the Centre’, and in the second section some poems I’ve written during my residency at the Writers’ Cottage in Hobart’. Poems in the first section include ‘Keats Hereafter’ “written some time before the movie ‘Bright Star’ came out, at a time after I’d been reading quite a few Keats’ poems, ‘Cottage Collage’ “speaking to the dichotomy between art and craft” and ‘Witches Hook’, “possibly the only outcome of my only attempt to write a novel”.

Louise Oxley opens with a whale poem, written about the overnight stay she’d shared with Ron Pretty and other members of the Five Islands New Poets’ Series 9 some years ago. “We travelled across much of the country, on the trip between Adelaide and Perth we were averaging 900 kilometres a day. This is a poem that came out of one of the overnight stops we made on that trip”. Next follows a poem that came out of a Hobart Mountain Festival collaboration, and ‘After the Diagnosis’, and finally a couple of love poems written after a visit to Wales.

Ron Pretty, following the break, suggests that since his next bracket of poems were written during his ten days in Hobart “if some of these seem a little raw you’ll know why it is’. ‘String Theory’ is first – and much admired – then a series of eight sonnets “that go by the title of ‘No. 1 Kelly Street’ “. There’s humour in the last of these, “if you’ve seen the flyer that’s circulated for this reading you’ll see me referred to as ‘the elder statesman of Australian poetry’. Must have had an effect because it’s triggered a decent poem. ‘Where is Boswell I want to know,’ asks Pretty.

Louise Oxley’s second piece opens with two poems about the joys of going backwards, including ‘Lagging Behind’. Next she reads ‘Sitting with Cezanne’. “I’ve just been to Canberra to see the post-impressionists ‘in the flesh’ so to speak; Cezanne’s always been important”. She follows with three in a suite of new poems in response to the journals of the French naturalist Labillardière. “This seems to be a sonnet evening, the first of the three is a double sonnet, the other two are more formal. Labillardière is exacting in his description of the flora he encounters in his explorations; I see the same trees on the channel and realise I’ve come to take them for granted … these poems are an attempt to see them through his eyes”.

Following the reading there’s time for questions. Ron Pretty speaks of his plans to set up a poetry imprint entitled ‘Profile Poetry’; a couple of titles a year, and probably by invitation. He notes that while he’s committed to poetry and its publication, he’s well aware of problems facing the industry, particulary with distribution. He suggests that support for the multitude of very good poets in this country is poor and in consequence, we have a situation where poets see poetry as its own reward – not bad in itself – but with publication not being sought because it’s just too difficult. “At present as poets we’re merely writing to one another; and that’s selling poetry short”. Ron mentions the positives – groups such as Red Room “who are doing lots of good things, poetry on pigeons, for instance” – and the negatives: the festivals designed for poets but not for audiences. Conversation turns to the loss of poetry publishing opportunities; Ron points out that when Penguin withdrew its support for poetry, it also meant the loss of the company’s poetry publicists. “Thus the resources for getting poetry out into the mainstream were also lost”.

Ron Pretty will be conducting a poetry workshop – ‘The Poetry of Witness: How can poets write about issues – politics, ideology, ecology? Can a non-indigenous poet write about indigenous issues?’ – in Hobart on Saturday afternoon from 1 to 4pm. At this stage a handful of vacancies remain for this workshop, ring the Tasmanian Writers’ Centre if you’d like to take part, tel 6224 0029.

‘Invincible Summer’ : Laura Jan Shore

LAURA JAN SHORE

Invincible Summer

In the depths of winter I finally learned there was
an invincible summer.
— Albert Camus

Our laughter was as brittle as the icicles
the children licked, the edge
of your humour an ironic lance— told
through the open window of the station wagon,
to the clamour of the carpool.
Don’t you hit him with that!

We balanced our phones while chopping
onions, you mocking
your famous in-laws, their crowd
of country club lushes, yet as your husband’s
income climbed he joined a wine club and you
joined your mother-in-law at the spa,
imitating her dry tone
when she found her teenaged son
at the mirror dressed in her cocktail gown.
Try the champagne stilettos, dear, they
go better with that frock.

Just as coolly, you reported on the tempest
of your marriage while you picked
last night’s spinach soufflé off the chandelier.
Most of the wedding gift crockery
was smashed by then. But you had a scheme,
confessed to me while he was away on business.
A new baby would fix things.
Greeting him in the satin negligee bought
for the purpose. He had other news.

You stuffed his ties into a paper sack
and shouted him out the door.
That’s when your smoky voice grew slurred.
You stopped answering the phone.

A month or maybe longer before I heard about the diagnosis,
how when the doctor said, Cancer, you thought
Now maybe he’ll love me.

But he was settled then with his new woman and even the children
preferred his place when you returned from surgery
to the dark nights of chemo.
Like a veteran of an unspeakable war, you never
revealed the particulars.

And I never thought to thank you, Val— for the gentling
of your smile, the legacy of tears, how they
eased the muscles around your eyes.

Your children returned to nuzzle close like spring calves.
We lounged in your garden that first warm day when
the azaleas were in bloom. The sun found your face,
daubed it with gold.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Laura Jan Shore, author of historical novel, The Sacred Moon Tree, and poetry collection, Breathworks, is President of Dangerously Poetic Press. Her poems have appeared in literary magazines and anthologies in Australia, USA, Italy and New Zealand. Co- editor of 8 poetry books, she has taught poetry and creative writing for 25 years both on the North Coast OF N.S.W. and in the U.S.

The cold steel behind China’s soft power

[Rowan Callick, The Australian, March 13th 2010]:

The row that has emerged over Australian Writers Week in China underlines the danger and the value of such bold attempts to deepen the relationship beyond its mine-ship-steelmill axis.

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Greens leader Bob Brown urges help for author Robert Dessaix

[news.com.au, March 13th 2010]:

Greens leader Bob Brown has urged the Foreign Minister to intervene in the case of an Australian author denied China entry as he is HIV-positive.

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Thanks to the illustrating pirate

[From the blog 'American Witch', March 4th, 2010]:

One of the jolting pleasures of being a publishing poet in the age of the Web is to stumble on a poem that has gone on adventures without my knowledge. The Niches section of my website collects links to poems I’ve come across on, among other places, a Spelunking site and a Wine-tasting site.

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Infinite difference

[Laurie Duggan, from the blog 'Graveney Marsh', March 11th, 2010]:

I’ve spent a goodly part of these last two weeks at poetry readings in London: all of them well worth the return ticket. Last night’s launch of Infinite Difference however was the crowning glory. The subtitle of Carrie Etter’s anthology, ‘Other Poetries by UK Women Poets’ refers to Ric Caddel and Peter Quartermain’s 1999 anthology, Other: British and Irish Poetry Since 1970, in that ‘other’ here doesn’t mean ‘alien’ or even ‘oppositional’, just poetry that of its nature has not found a comfortable place in the shortlists or the weekly literary supplements.

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