always trying to prove you're being saved
Read Andrew McGahan's The White Earth today.
Which I prolly would not have read had I known before what issues would be at the core. But oh man, oh man, such a talented writer developed in such awe-inspiring satisfying ways and still developing, I'm sure. And I missed the season premiere of Ugly Betty for it. *blinks*
I could hear the people in my writing group taking issue with the style, that everpresent complaint --- coming from my throat on occasion too --- of "show, don't tell!" but man, oh man did it work here. He worked it so well, the threading between past and present, the fabulous imagery, the myths and ghost stories, the gorgeous oh so visual descriptions that only the Australian landscape demands. And just when I realised how deeply I disliked every single adult character, there entered the one decent person. Flawless timing. And fuck me but flawless depiction of so many warring agendas, so much so that McGahan himself was all but invisible in the narrative. And to tell it all through the eyes of a nine year old boy, so Jane Eyre and so brave. And it worked.
Struck me that this too prepares me for the viewing experience of Australia. Eventually. I did get told something today by a court officer who saw it over the weekend, one very vital something that pretty much swept everything aside and made up my mind.
I have to see it.
Which I prolly would not have read had I known before what issues would be at the core. But oh man, oh man, such a talented writer developed in such awe-inspiring satisfying ways and still developing, I'm sure. And I missed the season premiere of Ugly Betty for it. *blinks*
I could hear the people in my writing group taking issue with the style, that everpresent complaint --- coming from my throat on occasion too --- of "show, don't tell!" but man, oh man did it work here. He worked it so well, the threading between past and present, the fabulous imagery, the myths and ghost stories, the gorgeous oh so visual descriptions that only the Australian landscape demands. And just when I realised how deeply I disliked every single adult character, there entered the one decent person. Flawless timing. And fuck me but flawless depiction of so many warring agendas, so much so that McGahan himself was all but invisible in the narrative. And to tell it all through the eyes of a nine year old boy, so Jane Eyre and so brave. And it worked.
Struck me that this too prepares me for the viewing experience of Australia. Eventually. I did get told something today by a court officer who saw it over the weekend, one very vital something that pretty much swept everything aside and made up my mind.
I have to see it.