My earliest memory of The Beatles is from when I was a five-year-old. It wasn't their music, but an article in the local newspaper, with a photo of John, Paul and George hammering an oversized nail into Ringo's head. My mother tutted and told me they were silly to play with hammers and nails.
Writing can be lonely, especially if you're living on your own in a cramped flat, in another country, far away from family and friends. So when I lived in Brighton in the early-1990s, I volunteered to work one afternoon a week at an Oxfam op shop. I needed to get out and meet and mingle with people.
I discovered Somerset Maugham in my early twenties when I borrowed a copy Of Human Bondage from a friend (which, to my shame, I never returned). The novel captivated me with its beautifully crafted tale of thwarted artistic ambition and unrequited love and sent me on a journey to read more Maughams.
In May 1992, the Australian literary news was full of Tim Winton's success and his novel, Cloudstreet. And I thought it an omen. Winton was thirty-one years old, and I was thirty. He'd grown up in W.A., and so had I. He'd just won his second Miles Franklin, and I was having a second crack at being a writer!
There were old tea chests in a spare room at my grandparents' house, from which my younger brother and I unearthed 78 RPM records, 1940s Film Fun Annuals and Biggles books that had belonged to my father and uncle as boys. But the greatest treasure for this boy was a mint copy of The Gorilla Hunters.
Ask anyone who, like me, was a kid in Australia in the 1970s, "What books did you read at school?" and we're likely to recall at least three novels. For me, these three are the classics, the ones I had to read, analyse and write essays on in English. And I still have copies of them in my bookcase!
Like many, I learnt about Anne Frank's story as a school kid. But it wasn't until my thirties, living in England, that I appreciated the full grace and horror of her life. I saw a Brighton theatre production of The Diary of Anne Frank, read the Pan edition of her diary, and visited the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam.
From 1987 to 1995, I lived in England and, as well as loving the English countryside, the quaint villages and towns, and the people, I loved the pubs. The pubs I frequented were social meeting places for men and women. And thankfully, not just somewhere for blokes to get plastered and start fights.
Having watched the movie versions of Their Finest and The Zookeeper's Wife, I was pleased to track down the books in my local library. The librarian, however, quizzed me with an arched eyebrow, "They are large print editions, is that okay?" It felt like she was telling me the books were in simple-English.
Over many years and many moves, I've cultivated and culled my book collection. Now have a manageable medium-sized library, books I haven't got around to reading and those I plan to read again ... one day! Somewhere along the way, I misplaced a favourite from the 1980s, The Songlines by Bruce Chatwin.
The futuristically designed library in Tianjin, China (aptly nicknamed, The Eye) is lined from floor to cathedral high ceilings with bookshelves, which follow the building's curved contours. It set me thinking about the libraries I've visited over the years and fondly recalling three of my favourites.
To celebrate the introduction of 280-character Tweets by Twitter, Meanjin Quarterly ran a microfiction competition. The rules were simple: tweet a 280-character story and include the hashtag #meanjin280. The top ten stories were published on the Meanjin Blog, and the authors paid one dollar a word.
It was a warm, lazy Sunday afternoon, and I took advantage of the day to sprawl and finish Their Finest by Lissa Evans. I was inspired to read the book after watching the film version — a British period comedy-drama about making propaganda films and life on the home front in London during The Blitz.
In October 2017, I attended a premiere screening of Three Summers. After the film, there was a Q&A session with the writer/director, Ben Elton. I have loved his writing since reading Stark in 1989. So it was a great privilege to meet Ben in person after the Q&A and for him to sign my yellowed copy of Stark!
I commented on Facebook recently that with all the bleak news on North Korea and brinksmanship by Donald Trump and Kim Jong-un, I thought I'd dust off and re-read my old second-hand bookshop copy of Nevil Shute's On the Beach ... to prepare for the worst, just in case!
In these days of instant gratification, it's hard to believe once upon a time, wanna-be writers would type and print their manuscripts, post them to publishers with a reply-paid, self-addressed envelope. And then wait and wait and wait, for an offer to publish or, more likely, a feared rejection letter.
The Writer’s Circle recently posed a question for book lovers on Facebook: What book are you currently reading? In my case, the answer is not singular but plural. I’m currently reading three books — along with a few more on my bedside table I’ll probably need to take with me to my grave to finish!
