I read it, and it was great fun – particularly the raunchy historical Scottish sex, and the time-travel element. I gave it to my sister (now a bookstore girl herself) and she went on to read the whole series.

I found out the author, Diana Gabaldon, was going to be in town at a dinner event hosted by Dymocks Camberwell on my sister’s birthday, on the back of her new book An Echo in the Bone. I took Sonja along for her birthday, and followed it up with a few questions about what it’s like to meet your favourite (and a very famous) author…

Pictured: Diana Gabaldon, Sonja and I.

It was a massive event, hey? What did you think of the crowd and the other fans?

Yeah, it was a big event – but then I haven’t been to any other author dinners so I’m not sure what’s normal. I believe there were 200 people in attendance. The crowd was generally women in their 40s and 50s, I was possibly the youngest person in the room. This wasn’t surprising, considering that the themes in her novels generally appeal to that audience. I must be weird.

You’re not weird! Maybe other young people just haven’t discovered her because her books are marketed a certain way? When we walked in the room, you were talking about the role that authors seem to play in this day and age – as presenters and actors. It contradicts their actual job – sitting in a room alone, forming this massive work, yeah?

This I definitely don’t understand! Writers seem more inclined to be of the ‘hermit’ variety of human (at least at times). Creatively, they like to be alone where they can get their head around how best to execute their art. It seems so odd to me that part of the job for a highly successful author these days is to stand up in front of a massive crowd and deliver a perfectly memorised 45 minute speech, before sitting down to sign books with their perfectly practiced plastic-looking camera-smile. All for the sake of sales. What if you had stage fright? I would be wondering when it was I signed up to be an actress.

Yeah, there’s a real contradiction there – though DG did seem quite happy to talk to us all. What did you think of her in person? And what of her speech?

DG as a person exceeded my expectations! She was very professional – she seemed comfortable in displaying herself and grateful to us for appreciating and supporting her work. She was a shortish gypsy-looking woman with long hair and an attractive face that seemed younger than her years. Her voice surprised me: a raspy fast-paced American accent that gave the impression she could barely keep up with her own thoughts, and with it she successfully entranced us. Her talk was witty, honest and delightfully nerdy. A scientist by trade, she is clearly intellectual. I loved that she had the guts to read one of the great erotic scenes from An Echo in the Bone. She knew what we would want, and she delivered!

She did speak super fast, like her brain was working a million miles an hour, though she also managed to come across as calm and comfortable! You had a bit of an awkward moment when you got your books signed, though, didn’t you?

Ha! I knew you would bring this up. You had been telling me earlier I should say something to her, and I didn’t know what to say because I know I am just another number and I don’t want to try and say something clever just to be remembered. Anyway, without anything planned we leaned in for a photo and I thought it would be nice to just connect with her for a moment. So I said (stupidly) ‘Ha, everyone must smell like wine’ (because they have to lean over her for the photo). It seems she didn’t even hear me, as she replied ‘There you go, thank you’, handing me my signed book. I walked off in a state of embarrassment and started giggling my arse off with you as soon as we were out of hearing distance. Ergh. I blame the wine.

There were some hardcore fans aiming accusations at her about the books and characters, weren’t there? It was almost like they felt they had this sense of entitlement and ownership over the works and the author as well, yeah? And then there was the dog lady…

Oh the dog lady. During Q & A this lady asked a question about DG’s many dogs and then proceeded to have a conversation with her about breeding and the appearance of her own canines. Hello? She doesn’t care, and the whole room is listening! As you said, another woman was almost making accusations at DG rather than asking a proper question.

As far as their feeling ownership, I agree that it seemed that way. It was DG’s brilliance that brought this imaginary world into our lives in the first place – so what gives these people a right to the way the story goes?  It is her creation. I guess some people see it differently. It was so good though how when DG didn’t understand one of the ’smart’ words in the aggressive woman’s question she just said ‘Sorry, I don’t understand?’ which made the woman look totally ridiculous.

You don’t think an author has some responsibility to his/her readers? The people who are supplying them with an income?

Well, to some extent. Especially when working on a series such as DG’s ‘Outlander’. There needs to be consistency in both the content and writing style from book to book. Otherwise readers’ expectations will be understandably upset. But my point is some people seem to feel a need to challenge someone who has been more successful than them. I’m not sure why. As you know, I’m also bothered by the slow pace in her most recent novel, Echo in the Bone, and the depth in which she describes her characters’ movements. If she loses my interest then yes, there is obviously something she is doing wrong. But if I were inclined to ask her about it, I don’t think I’d do it in an assuming, superior sort of way that attempts to put her off and make myself look good in front of others.

Hehe, I’m glad. But then I know one question I asked at a recent writers fest I really stuffed up, and it seemed accusatory. Sometimes it’s an accident I think.

Does it make a difference, meeting an author (to the reading experience)? Would you want to meet anyone else?

I don’t think it makes a difference to the reading experience. Do you? But I suppose I can now see parts of her own personality that she has put into her main character, Claire, and I like that I can see this. It makes Claire even more real, somehow. But when I said this to one of the ladies at the dinner, she hadn’t noticed. I will probably think of her more now as I read, I don’t know. There are plenty of authors I would love to meet, if only to see what they are like. I don’t think it changes anything unless you love their book and they turn out to be a nasty person. I wonder if you would be loyal to them anyway because of their work or write them off because of their personality? I’m sure you have had experience with this.

Well, with some it has enhanced the experience, with others … I’ve never read their books again. Meeting both Gail Jones and Alex Miller (my two favourite Aus writers) were memorable experiences. Another author (who I shall not name) treated me like a little girl. I’d travelled pretty far for that event too. So, regardless of the fact I like this author’s writing, I have been turned off picking up their books! So it can have an effect.

Which author would you most want to meet then? Let’s make it fun and say – alive or dead? And lastly, what was the highlight of the evening?

Hmm, tough one. At the moment I would probably say Vladimir Nabokov. I am intrigued by him, as are many. But there are still so many authors I haven’t read so it could change later.

The highlight of the night for me would be the reading. I particularly remember the point where she said unflinchingly in her accent: ‘A shiver ran through him at the warmth of my mouth and I lifted my hands involuntarily, cradling his balls.’ Ha! I love her unabashed countenance and wish I had such a quality without worrying about putting people off. Care to share your highlight?

Okay – mine was when she said how when people asked her: ‘why would you have a thing for a man in a kilt?’ her reply was: ‘You can imagine it’d only be ten seconds before he had you against the wall’. Aye!

Readers – have you had the chance to meet any of your favourite authors? Was it wonderful or woeful? Who would you most like to meet?

Pictured: Opera House – Brett Whiteley.

This is a whole other blog post sometime but while in Sydney I had an urge to reconcile my bad feelings about the city. See, I lived there for three months when I was 18. I will tell you the whole story sometime. It’s hard to, though, because it was one of the most difficult and depressing (and I don’t use that word lightly) times of my life. I used to spend a lot of time at the state art gallery, and yesterday I went there, for the first time in years. I stared hard at some of the paintings that were my favourites, and I tried to remember what I was looking for in them, back then. It surprised me to realise I could see much more around the edges now. Fascinating, how visual art, much like books, is a two-way communication between artist and viewer/reader - perhaps even more-so than books because two people could interpret a painting or sculpture so differently. One of my favourite things about galleries is discovering art and artists I didn’t know of before (or didn’t know I liked). The finalists for the Dobell Prize for Drawing were on show, and I discovered an artist called Tanya Chaitow. See some of her work here.

Did I reconcile my bad feelings about Sydney? It was an incredible, sunny day on Saturday. It was difficult to feel negative in that kind of weather. Sydney and I are learning to become friends, but we can only handle each other in short bursts. I can’t see myself living there again. Now Melbourne – Melbourne and I like each other much better – you might even call it love.

I was very excited to hear that an independent anthology out of Toronto, which I contributed to, has come out. It’s called Goodbye Billie Jean, the Meaning of Michael Jackson. It has quite an impressive list of contributors (Pulitzer Prize-winner, monk, drag queen). The pieces are thoughts, opinions and ideas on the meaning of MJ. You can get it online (details here). It’d be cool to see an Australian micro-publisher or zine distributor pick it up here also.

Also, a couple of days ago, the Charter for Compassion was revealed. I think this is a great way to get us all thinking about our contribution to the greater good, in a broad way. It’s a universal charter – not coming from any one belief system. It quite simply enhances the word ‘compassion’ so it is more present in our lives. Learn more about it through these links:

Australians on Compassion Video.
Website.
Facebook.
Twitter.

A bit more about the project:
‘The Charter for Compassion is the result of Karen Armstrong’s 2008 TED Prize wish that seeks to bring together voices from all cultures and religions, and remind the world that we all share the core principles of compassion. The Charter has already been affirmed by world leaders such as Archbishop Desmond Tutu, Queen Noor of Jordan, Deepak Chopra and author Elizabeth Gilbert.’

Okay, I’m off to breathe some fresh air, have D&M conversations, and use my muscles they way they’re meant to be used.

The next five books I’m planning to read in no particular order: Jasper Jones (Craig Silvey), Siren (Tara Moss), Parrot & Olivier in America (Peter Carey), The Secret Life of Marilyn Monroe (J Randy Taraborrelli), The Year of the Flood (Margaret Atwood).

Time I got to bed last night: 3:30am.

Number of creative projects I’m currently working on: four.

Currently reading: Brothers and Sisters (ed. Charlotte Wood), Collected Stories (Richard Yates), Rushing to Paradise (JG Ballard), Ulysses (James Joyce) – yes, still – and various poetry books.

Recently framed photograph:

(Kafka).

Books recently returned from friends: The Slap (Christos Tsiolkas), Conditions of Faith (Alex Miller).

New position at Bookseller+Publisher: Acting editor (of the print magazine).

Book my sister and two friends are going to borrow: The Boat (Nam Le). A huge congrats to Nam on his Prime Minister’s Literary Award win! So well deserved. Congrats also to Evelyn Juers, Marilyn Lake and Henry Reynolds.

Language I’m going to learn next year: French (I’ll explain more about this later).

Link of the week: ABR’s Favourite Australian Novel (FAN) poll – get your nomination in.

Out of the fifty billion launches on in the next week, the one I’m most looking forward to: Iain ‘Huey’ Hewitson’s Bloody Good Recipes. Huey will be cooking lunch. Mmm, mmm.

Two launches you should go to if in Melbourne: Visible Ink (Monday); The Words We Found (Thursday) – or, on Thursday, you could go to the Victorian state final of the Australian Poetry Slam.

Recently interviewed in: An extensive one in Voiceworks #78: Fluid (interview not online – buy it!); an in-person one (part one, part two) with Chris Flynn on Fly the Falcon (he’s been doing a few with up-and-coming creatives, check them out); and Damon Young interviewed me about my favourite tool for writing.

Recent flights booked: To Adelaide for Adelaide Writers Week – Feb 28 to March 5. Join us.

Current craving: pretzels.

Coming up on the blog: Review of Cate Kennedy’s The World Beneath; ‘responsive’ interview with Hollywood Ending author Kathy Charles; an interview with Lisa Dempster re her travel memoir Neon Pilgrim; more from my interview with Alex Miller – extended from our talk about his new novel Lovesong, in Readings Monthly; and more fresh faces bringing you guest reviews.

Want: An e-reader.

Number of bookshelves needed for new pad: About eight.

What I’m going to do now: Watch The Seven Year Itch.

It’s not online yet, but my feature interview with Alex Miller, on his new novel Lovesong, has just come out in the November issue of Readings Monthly. Pick up a copy if you’re near a Readings store. I’ll post a link when it’s up online. I actually spoke with Miller about his other wonderful books, and other general things, so there will be more to come on the blog…

Also, this is a link of a link of a link, but we can add to this discussion. I was surprised by Mark Sarvas’ admission that his own attention span for reading seems to have shortened. I didn’t expect this from him. But he does provide some suggestions at the end, if this horrible affliction has sprung upon you. I have no problem reading long books – I don’t get weary or distracted (unless, of course, they suck), and I know many people of my generation read some mammoth works. Maybe we’re (Gen Y) more adaptable to different kinds of reading, where for those just a bit older, the giddy, rapid, screen-swapping, talk-back nature of the internet is harder to shake off when they sit down with a book. But Sarvas isn’t too much older, and he has got a new bub in the house (a lovely distraction). For some, maybe it’s a phase of panic – ‘oh no, the internet is melting my brain’ – which paralyses them. For others, maybe they’re really just not enjoying what they’re reading so much, maybe their reading tastes have changed and it’s difficult to admit it to themselves. Over to you…

(And I do apologise if I take a little while to moderate/reply to comments – the moving thing).

Liz says:

One of the reasons I took a year off from work/Melbourne life to come and volunteer in Bali in the first place was to have more time in my life for my writing. Bali is much cheaper to live in, and that was a factor in my decision to come here. My risk seems, in the end, to have been successful as I’m now much-more published and have gained a much higher profile for my writing. I think writers owe it to their talents to think creatively about how to find more time to write.

I don’t mind you asking about how I can ask people for their money. Trust me, the same question has crossed my mind many times. Who am I, etc.? But isn’t this just extension of even being a writer? Who are we to put our words out there? And yes, I did just go out there and ask for it, and most people won’t ask for what they want. I find most writers and artists dreadful at believing in and promoting themselves and asking for what they need or want. I have felt very guilty, at times, when I read stories about kids needing surgery or people losing their homes, but dreams are vital and important too, and I work actively in my other life to help poor families in Indonesia.

I had been asking people for money for two years as a grant writer, so it seemed a short step to asking for myself. There are precious few grants that let you take time off to write your opus, and still pay the rent; they’re highly competitive and often go to established writers. It’s just as crucial for society to support the arts as to alleviate poverty.

Also, I help other writers every chance I get - refer to a publisher, network, talk about their book, etc. I firmly believe that a ‘rising tide lifts all boats.’ A number of newly-established and as-yet unpublished writers have given me money for November. I will help them out, in turn. I am in an unusual situation. Through my networking, and by helping other writers, I have direct access to editors at Random House, Harper Collins and Anvil Press (PI), as well as Insight Publications in Melbourne. So networking, and supporting other writers, works to help ourselves.

I’ve had a number of people tell me that I’m sort of living their dream, and inspiring them. Most of the contributions have come from friends and family, and more than half of the contributions have been over the $10 I asked for, with several at $50, $70 or $100. It will be interesting to see if any of my donors get motivated in their own life and follow through on their own projects. Already, I’ve had one friend decide to make more time to write by sending her eldest to school early. I love inspiring others!

As for fund raising, I’ve raised about $1200, and there’s still promised payments to come in. I’ve got enough to take off November, and part of December. I asked for more than I needed, expecting to be short of my goal.

Since I started my fund raising, I’ve noticed a number of other writers out there also asking for money to support them during November to write a book, but none seemed to have used social networks, or gotten ‘ballsy’ about asking, like I did. But I have to say, I worked in business and retail for many years, so some of these skills have rubbed off on my writing. I think every writer should take a marketing course or read marketing books, ie Guerilla Marketing for Writers.

A friend told me about several bands (Radiohead, Meridian, Porcupine Tree) that raise money from their fans for a new album. The bands then give donors a special edition, signed CD. He suggested I give people something back in exchange for their money, hence the offer to give people who donate a copy of my book once it’s published.

I got the attention of the book editor at The Huffington Post, who’s asked me if I want to blog about raising money to take time off to write my book, then blog the actual writing of it. If this comes about it will hopefully help to get publishers interested.

But now I’m finding an interesting thing: now that I have to write the book draft, I’m getting incredibly nervous. Part of the reason I set it up this way was to force myself to sit down and do it. I can’t back out now, or I’ll lose face and disappoint people. I wonder if one reason we don’t ‘make the time’ or ‘find the time’ in busy lives to write our great works is because of fear, not a lack of time. Theodore Sturgeon wrote his short stories in 15 minutes every morning when he was starting out and working as a steelworker all day.

You can follow Liz on Twitter, to see how it all pans out.

Ubud Writers & Readers Festival 2009 ‘Blogging, Dissent & Solidarity’ session. Kadek Adidharma, Dian Hartati, yours truly, Ng Yi-Sheng & Antony Loewenstein. Pic from official festival Facebook page.

I’ve attended several writers’ festivals over the last three years, and in the past year have begun to chair or sit on panels at some of these. I thought I’d share a few things I’ve learnt about moderating, through observation and experience.

Prior to the festival:

• Source you panelists’ latest books as soon as possible. Read them! And don’t just read them – take notes, gather biographical info, and gather a few facts about where they’re from (country, city, culture etc.) It helps to contextualise the talk, and helps you to understand them and their work. If you have time, read their back-list titles also.
• Establish contact with the panelists via email a few weeks before the session. Ask an open question or two relating to the panel. Ask them also if they would like to contribute any ideas. Do make sure you find out what is the thing they most want to talk about in front of an audience and include it in your questioning. After you’ve established these few important things, closethe email conversation before it gets too thick. If you discuss too much beforehand, the session will lack freshness and spontaneity. Be careful with overbearing personalities – you must call the shots and make the decisions in the end on how the conversation will be steered, so there’s balance. Some writers do like to know how the session will run (so they can prepare a few notes) – give them your outline in brief, but don’t give them specific questions, or else on the day it will feel rehearsed, and they’ll end up stressed out if they haven’t talked about everything they were prepared to talk about.
• When you’re communicating, also ask what they’re sick of talking about (and then decide whether it’s still worth asking for the audience’s sake). Also ask what they never get asked, and would like to.
• Don’t meet all together until just before the session, again to preserve freshness, interest, curiosity towards each other, and spontaneity. Put your panelists at ease before the session. Ask again what their hot topics are, so they know you’ll be covering them.
• My preference is for writing down open questions relating to the topic, as well as more specific ones relating to the works of each author (and the links between each of their works). Many people use mind-maps instead. How you prepare what you’re going to ask is up to you. They may change during the session (see below). 
• This is more one for directors and programmers, and a hard one to get right, but in my experience, large panels (of more than four or so) only work if all the guests bring different points of interest/disparate backgrounds and experiences to the panel, or come at the discussion from different angles. Otherwise, when moderating and trying to give everyone a say, the session can end up being very repetitive. If panelists are too similar, they’ll just nod and repeat what the last person said, which isn’t great for the audience, nor does it make the authors look original or interesting.

Ubud Writers & Readers Festival 2009 ’Global Nomads’ session. Pic - Ruby Murray.

During the session:

• Panelists will most of the time come to the stage with something burning to get off their chest, in relation to their work/themselves and/or the topic at hand. Even though your carefully planned questions, or the direction of your conversation will lead you to this gem (something you’ve either acknowledged or sparked in the email contact), they are often so keen to say it, and not forget to say it, that they’ll give the game away early (even if it has nothing to do with the direct question you’ve asked). There are a couple of ways to try and counter this. Perhaps a quick word to the panelists beforehand, letting them know they can trust that you will get to this *important thing*. Or during the session, if they go into it too early, attempt to ease them out slightly, by saying something like ‘I’d really like to talk about that a bit more in a minute, but other guest, what do you think of the question I was originally asking?’
• It’s fine for a moderator to have their own opinion on the topic but the panel is not about them. If you have something of related interest to share with the audience, frame some of your questions anecdotally ie. ‘I know at Bookseller+Publisherwe get bla bla bla, have you all found this is the case in your bla?’ Then prompt elaboration on the answers.
• During the session feel free to scratch out questions and write new ones. Pay attention to your panelists and bounce off any juicy points of interest. Keep in mind the topics that are most important to them, and those of interest to the audience.
• Some moderators use too many quotes and they just end up looking like smart-arses: ‘I’m more intelligent than the audience members and maybe even this author because I remember all these quotes’. I love a session with one or two really well-placed quotes, but any more than that is kinda pretentious.
• 15-20 minutes of audience question time is good, but keep an eye on the audience, particularly if it’s a hot topic (you may want to let them at the panel earlier). Also, have plenty more questions ready if there are no hands raised at first (they can be shy) then go back to them. Also, if one hot-stuff author is getting asked all the audience questions, play off it to ask the other authors a similar thing (so it’s nice and even). eg. Audience member ‘So, famous author, would you ever consider going out with me?’ The author answers ‘probably not’. Then you say to the other panelists: ’What about you not-so-famous author and other not-so-famous author, have you ever dated a fan?’ etc.
• A very obvious one, but one I personally battle (and know how bad it sounds from sessions I’ve attended) – avoid ‘ah’ and ‘um’ as much as you can.
• Pay attention, stay interested and focused on your panelists and the audience. Take a risk – ask them something that’s hard for you to ask. Chances are, the audience members are also wondering about this too. Have fun – seriously, you’re having a conversation with talented and (hopefully) fascinating people. Show them you’re enthusiastic to be there. If you’re engaged, the audience is much more likely to be engaged.

Thanks to Adelaide’s Format Festival, Melbourne’s Emerging Writers’ Festival, the Melbourne Writers Festival, Newcastle’s National Young Writers Festival and Ubud Writers and Readers Festival for inviting me to participate this year.

Storytelling is as old as humanity. The human has always actively projected him/herself into realms of fantasy (through song, art, drama, writing). Modernity advanced the visual aspect of imaginative adventure with diorama and panorama displays, museums, and the invention of photography.

From here on, global culture = visually excessive.

Current experience = deterritorialisation through photography, cinema, advertising, television and the internet. It has become necessary to visually immerse ourselves in narratives.

In a complex, rhizomatic pastiche of ‘real life’, one may construct an ‘avatar’ (a digital version of themself) and physically control this avatar in their explorations of the new world. It is both a phantasmagorical escape, a facade for the reality of alienated individuals, recreating themselves (in a new environment as a modernist ‘I’). But it is also a site of appropriation, subversions, contradictions and of course, commercialism.

There is no centre. One’s avatar may have the option of flying, to cover large distances.

In a heterotopic sense, the mind is engaged within the spatial explorations of the avatar – within three-dimensional virtuality (while the body is on firm ground). Physical room + virtual head = modernist ‘montage’.

This space inside the computer screen, an interaction with computer screens the world over, is hyperreal. Because while the objects and mobilities are often symbols (representatives of real life things) they are in fact ‘created’ from nothing but strands of numbers. Their workable reality effectively ‘replaces’ the things they are representing. They are simulacra, and this is emphasised by the fact that someone will actively create an avatar to ‘be amongst’ this new reality, in effect making even themself into a simulacrum.

There is not much need for a system of order, as De Certeau discusses with the city, because there is no sickness, no waste, no excrement, no death, and no bodily necessities. Shelter, food, sleep, are not necessary. It is Donald’s ‘un espace propre’.

Foucault describes a type of utopia –

…something like [a] counter-site… a kind of effectively enacted utopia in which the real sites, all the other real sites that can be found within the culture, are simultaneously represented, contested, and inverted.

A utopia is still grounded in real life modernist principles, the advancement of oneself within technology – by property and finances (perhaps ’social credit’ here).

Foucault’s heterotopias and the internet:

A crisis heterotopia exists for those who are in a crisis in ‘normal’ society, thus, they retreat to the formation of their own self and narratives.

A heterotopia of deviation could be related to the sexual aspects of the internet – people engaging in acts that they are unable to in real life.

A juxtapositional heterotopia ties in with the post-modern aspect of appropriation. Several sites that are incompatible in real life may be joined.

It is a heterochrony as it has its own time structure.

It is also a heterotopia with varying points of access.

The last trait of heterotopias is that they have a function in relation to all the space that remains… Either their role is to create a space of illusion that exposes every real space, all the sites inside of which human life is partitioned… Or else… their role is to create a space that is other, another real space, as perfect, as meticulous, as well arranged as ours is messy, ill constructed, and jumbled.

Which do you think it is?

The individual is in a mode of excorporation – utilising a product (computer) to subvert the dominant system (not participating in real life and civic space).

Archetypal cyberpunk sardonically sends up the society of the frenetic information age, but the cyber-environment itself is a given, almost an object of desire… Cyberpunk characters are in a transcendent state when they’re in cyberspace. To be deprived of cyber-reality by burn-out or misfortune is almost an exile from Eden. (Watson, 2003, p. 156)

The internet also gives residents who may be reclusive or marginalised figures in real life the chance to be part of an imagined community.

[T]he internet is… essentially liberatory: if it is not under some centralised control, it can only be the provenance of free individuals and small groups, in an egalitarian world where the individual is unhindered by boundaries of nation, class, gender or property (Thwaites, Davis & Mules).

There is the argument that too much interaction online and an overstimulation of the visual could result in a loss of tangibility. The ‘schizophrenic exchanging of identities’ could also result in ‘dehumanisation’, the exact thing the science-fiction film often warns against. This could also be referred to as a contradiction between the site’s promises, and its denials. The cyberpunk novel, in a more post-modern fashion, embraces the consequences of this – the possible inevitability of it in the face of capitalist commodification. It could be argued that as a transgressive space, the internet is actually an escape from the dehumanising sphere of real life capitalism. It is a place to communicate unboundaried.

While one can be transported to places they cannot physically visit without considerable expense, the internet also reinstates other imagined communities and places of belonging.

The internet can be subversive by naturalising images that are ‘unnatural’ in real life. Cartoon avatars, abbreviated language (or created/altered languages i.e. ‘I can haz…’). Online, these are ‘natural’ and thus, these symbolisations are transgressive to real life ‘natural’ order. They are, in a post-modern sense fragmentary, indeterminate (can be changed at will) and distrusting of ‘totalising’ discourses (Harvey).

The internet goes further than film, television, literature and video games by allowing an individual to not just create a character, a modern self, but create a narrative. What is striking is that this is the path of real life. We are creating ourselves and we are constructing our path. (Is a duality of self/multi-projections of self our condition anyway? But online, the less normative self finds more spaces for expression/collection/acceptance?) On the internet there are less obstacles in the way of our constructed narrative, and there is variety. And on the internet, there is an off button.

References 

Baudrillard, J 1988, ‘Simulacra and simulations’ in M Poster (ed.), Jean Baudrillard: selected writings, Polity, Cambridge.
De Certeau, M 1985, ‘Practices of space’ in M Blonsky (ed.), On signs, Basil Blackwell, Oxford.
Donald, J 1995, ‘The city, the cinema: modern spaces’, in C Jenks (ed.), Visual culture, Routledge, London.
Fiske, J 1989, ‘The jeaning of America’ in his Understanding popular culture, Unwin & Hyman, Boston.
Foucault, M 2006, ‘Of other spaces’, in N Mirzoeff (ed.), The visual culture reader (2nd edn), Routledge, London.
Harvey, D 1991, The condition of postmodernity, Blackwell, Cambridge.
Olalquiaga, C 1992, ‘Lost in space’ in her Megalopolis: contemporary cultural sensibilities, University of Minnesota Press, Minneapolis.
Thwaites, T et al. 2002, Introducing cultural and media studies: a semiotic approach, Palgrave Macmillan, Houndsmills.

Obscene is a film biography of Barney Rosset, the influential publisher of Grove Press and the provocative Evergreen Review.  He was the first American publisher of Samuel Beckett, Kenzaburo Oe, Tom Stoppard, Che Guevara, and Malcolm X. He also battled the government to overrule the obscenity ban on groundbreaking works such as Lady Chatterley’s Lover, Tropic of Cancer and Naked Lunch. And apparently, like many brilliant people, the energetic publisher was also self-destructive.

The film features Barney Rosset himself, Amiri Baraka, Jim Carroll, Lawrence Ferlinghetti, Al Goldstein, Erica Jong, Ray Manzarek, John Rechy, Peter Rosset, John Sayles, Gore Vidal, John Waters, Lenny Bruce, William S. Burroughs, Allen Ginsberg, Henry Miller and Malcolm X. With music by Bob Dylan, The Doors, Warren Zevon and Patti Smith. More info here.
 
‘No wonder Rosset was behind some of the central court struggles against censorious US standards for both literature and movies. He consorted with yippies and Black Panthers, produced close friend Samuel Beckett’s only film (1965’s Film), and was called a “tragic hero” by his own analyst (one of many). He is an interesting enough guy that one wishes co-directors Neil Ortenberg and Daniel O’Connor’s admiring portrait was longer…’
~The San Francisco Bay Chronicle

If you’re in Melbourne, Speakeasy Cinema is screening Obscene as part of the Anode festival at 8pm, Monday 2 November (1000 £ Bend, 361 Lt Lonsdale St). Tickets are available from Moshtix and include the film, plus a burger and beverage (you can also choose film-only). The DVD is also available from Madman, for those not in Melbourne.

LiteraryMinded also has a double pass (including the burgers and beer) to give away to this screening! To enter the draw, you must name two of the books Barney Rosset published. Titles only are fine. No need to put authors. Leave your answer as a comment on this blog, or tweet your answer to me (@LiteraryMinded). You must enter by 5pm AEDST Wednesday the 21 October 2009. One answer per person please. I will allocate each correct answer a number and use a random number generator to determine the winner. Good luck!

1. Flying over the top end – veiny, crater-filled land, mercury lakes and billabongs. The corny sea creature carpet at Darwin airport where there’s a smoking area and men in matching shirts drinking VB. Realising in the past year-and-a-half I have only ever travelled alone.

2. Roosters crowing at night as I’m tucked-up in a King size bed under a canopy, wishing I had an extra week or more to absorb this place and to write. There’s a pool and and heat and a week of conversations about Kenyan forts and Indonesian princesses and the whole globe as a home. The room is where Richard Flanagan stayed for a month to write. I can feel its potential.

3. Street cracks and smell of sewers and incense and the contrast of the street to this party in a mansion where there’s a boulder in the pool. Pulling mystery meat off a bone at a long dining table I’m sharing with one. Later – writers of every age and nationality dance barefoot – cocktail-fueled – to 60s/70s tunes and one ‘Billie Jean’, the most popular and strangely universal song.

4. In conversation with Tom Cho, the Global Nomads and Blogging, Dissent and Solidarity panels – my official connections, the hours of preparation at home and they go by quickly though satisfactorily. Engaged faces in the audience seen at the bookshop later. The realisation that it was three years (a short time, a life time) since I was audience only. Ubud Writers and Readers Festival was actually the first festival I attended. I remember thinking ‘I’d love to do that one day’.

5. Suka Duka is the theme of the 2009 festival – compassion and solidarity. With sadness comes light, with male comes female, solar/lunar and so on. The ‘locals’ (ex-pats who have lived in Bali for a number of years) are worried about the American influx. The theme of colonialism is raised in many panels and discussions – not just colonialism in the past sense, but in the sense of commercialisation, consumerism, Americanisation. One taxi driver says I have beautiful skin. White with ‘no wrinkles’.

6. Lloyd Jones says on the short story – ‘I think you have to be prepared to fail, to write something interesting’.

7. I am asked at the bookshop. ‘Are you related to Stephenie Meyer? She’s a writer too.’

8. Something I learn: sodomy and oral sex are illegal in Malaysia. Middle class Malaysians are somewhat protected by class. Transgender people are more vulnerable. In Bali, apparantly, there was no problem – and the gay clubs and organisations only arised when more foreigners entered the island. Something was segregated which wasn’t before. Some expressions used instead of ‘coming out’ in other languages have the English translation of ‘the hole is broken’ and ‘the seed has blossomed’.

9. On a panel called Meet the Australians Tom Cho and Arnold Zable thoughtfully debate short vs long form, art vs writing and so forth. At the party later I see them talking at length by the pool, a young and an established Australian writer no doubt continuing their discussion.

10. Coming home with a few keepsakes – books, of course, and too much washing and work to catch up on. A note in my journal: ‘I need to contribute something of worth.‘ And every time I have a conversation, read a book, meet someone new, and travel some place – I know a little bit more about what it is I can do.

(pictured: the top end; Hindu offerings on the street in Ubud; some books bought on my trip)