The :: New :: Misrule Blog

It's late so this will be shortish. I'm just in from a performance of As You Like It by the Bell Shakspeare Company at the Joan Sutherland Performing Arts Centre and Q Theatre in Penrith. I may have mentioned before, in my new(ish) western Sydney position, I am on a few invitation lists (lucky me!), and the Q very kindly invite me to some of the opening night performances out at the Joan.

I can't believe it's taken me till now to see a Bell Shakespeare production! I was teaching at a school many years ago when their education program visited, and it was fabulous, but I've never actually seen a production. Well, pity me, because if As You Like It is anything to judge by, I've been missing out!

I read the play when I was in Miss Philippa Metcalf's Year 8 English class at Parramatta High School in 1977, and what I mostly remember from that is that some student who'd had the book before me had scratched out "Like" on the front cover and written "Hate"—and that I was a bit affronted by this because this was SHAKESPEARE and that person must have been very stupid, really. And that I was one of the few kids in the class who was keen on the idea of "doing" the play—which mostly, from memory, constituted tortured lessons of people taking turns to read out loud. (Sorry, Miss Metcalf, if you're reading this, but it was the 70s and you also made us rote learn the "This Sceptr'd Isle" speech...)

I have never seen a production of the play before tonight, and beyond the "Seven Ages of Man" speech, the fact that Rosalind cross-dressed and that it was set in the Forest of Arden, I really didn't remember much of the play at all—which was kind of nice, because it allowed me to more or less experience it fresh. And fresh is the right word. A young cast—Bell Shakespeare was partly set up to give young Australian actors the opportunity to perform The Immortal Bard—but they've been touring this production all this year and so, as my friend Pamela, who came with me said, it was a very mature production. And a very joyful, funny, happy one too, with some pleasing (but not laboured) Australian flourishes. (Philip Dodd, who went to Parramatta High in the same year as my brother David—the two were friends—played the shepherd Corin in a perfectly appropriate Australian accent and not a hint of the Akubras to his outfit. And Anna Houston's Phoebe would have passed unnoticed in the nearby Penrith Westfield shopping mall!) I haven't enjoyed a night in the theatre as well in a long time.

Saskia Smith was delightful as Rosalind—sharp and funny and passionate. All the performances were wonderful, and the production (gorgeous to look at) was enlivened by music and dance. And this is a really SMART play, quick on its feet, the odd bit of exposition notwithstanding (Oliver explaining Orlando's encounter with the lion, for example—as Pamela observed, how William S would have embraced film and the possibilities of CGI!).

I really want to go and read the play again (and read ABOUT the play), with special attention to Jacques (Damien Ryan was FANTASTIC in this role). What an oddly melancholy figure in the middle of all this revelry and flirtation.

I know this is anything but an original idea, but whenever I see Shakespeare performed, I always wonder how certain lines may have been read, or jokes delivered, 400 years ago. Even less original, what would Shakespeare think had he known his plays would still be performed and enjoyed all those centuries later in a satellite suburb of a city in a country that remained more or less just a rumour in his own lifetime. I like to imagine him transported, in the audience, delighted and charmed and perhaps a little surprised.

Anyway, no great critical commentary here—just recording and sharing a thoroughly entertaining and cheering experience and a small flight of fancy. My only complaint—I kept thinking, 'oh, I want to watch that bit again', and then remembering I was in the theatre, and there's no rewind button. The ephemeral nature of a theatrical performance always makes me sad, even when it's as happy and cheering as this one. I want to see it again!

So, as per last week's post, I've now read Joanne Horniman's My Candlelight Novel. I'm embargoed on detailed comment until September, but I think I can safely say that it's simply a gorgeous, wonderful book. Loved it. Got lost in it. It's lush and lovely and if you're as big a Horniman fan as I am, trust me—you can't wait to read it. (And it made me miss Lismore—some day someone needs to write a paper on Joanne's Lismore cycle...)

It's a perk of the job—I get lots of review copies and from time to time uncorrected proof, or advance reading copies (not so many of them because Australian publishers don't as a rule provide them all that often). So, lucky me, I am part-way into Margo Lanagan's forth-coming novel Tender Morsels. (That links to the US cover—Margo, like the rest of us, is impatiently awaiting the unembargoeing of reviews and the Australian cover art...) Again, I can't say much at this point, but it's (literally) fabulous, drawing on fairy tale, fable and the fantastic, with Lanagan's trademark inventive and evocative language and marvellous characters.

There you go—am I sufficiently discreet, yet tantalising?!

My great good friend and colleague Pamela Freeman has been interviewed by an online careers website, whatcareer.com.au, about life as a professional writer. It's a lucid and practical overview of life as a professional writer. Recommended! (and I'm not on commission...)

Today I received an uncorrected proof copy of Joanne Horniman's new nvel, My Candlelight Novel. It's a companion to Secret Scribbled Notebooks. I read a few pages at red lights on the way home from work and can't wait to get stuck in properly!

I've just got in from a pleasant soiree at author and SCBWI Australia co-chair Susanne Gervay's Hughenden Hotel. Susanne is hosting Professor Patricia Dean and her education students from Salisbury University in Maryland—they are here on their second children's literature study trip (although it's mostly new students this time). They were last here, with a larger group and Professor Ernie Bond, who didn't make it this trip, two years ago, when I organised a cocktail party and dinner party with James Valentine as guest speaker (go here, here and here). This year, Susanne organised another cocktail party with some local children's writers, including Markus Zusak, Felicity Pulman, Jeni Mawter and Kate Forsyth.

I'm sorry I won't be able to spend more time with Patty and the students this time around, but we promised each other that on her next trip, they'll come out to Western Sydney—by then, I will have some really fabulous programs in place for them to see!

Where did the last five weeks go? It's not that I haven't been reading or thinking or talking about children's/youth lit—I'm always doing that! I guess I've just been enormously busy and spending my downtime, such as it is, down and sleepy and quiet...

I haven't had a full weekend to myself for a few weeks now—not complaining, but it's been a tiring few weeks! Last Saturday I spent the day leading workshops at Project Creative Awareness, a day sponsored by Balmain Rotary, designed to encourage young people to explore important global issues through creative endeavours—drama, visual arts and literature. Guess which one I was responsible for!

I had a terrific group of kids from Year 6—Year 8 (11—13 years old), very smart, informed, concerned and even cynical (largely about the media)—and very into reading and writing. We talked about the issues that concern them—environmental issues were up there, but these young people were more concerned about things like child labour and the experiences of refugees. And we talked about why writers for young people (such as Morris Gleitzman, Libby Gleeson, Deborah Ellis, Patricia McCormick etc) choose to explore these topics—and if these are appropriate topics for the audience. They had very definite ideas about that!

At one stage I had them browse through the books I had brought. It was fabulous—they were engrossed, swapping books, saying—oh, I've read that, it's fantastic—and when I tried to bring them back to start writing, they just wanted to keep reading. There's nothing like a room full of kids completely absorbed in books. One of the boys was a bit disdainful at first about Shaun Tan's The Arrival (it was a picture book and it didn't have any words!), but he was quickly won over by the power of this marvellous book about the immigration experience, declaring it to be the best bok he'd read in ages. Go Shaun!

But write they did, and came up with some really excellent work. One girl, Grace, was a bit stuck. She wanted to write about the environment, but was stuck on the idea she had to write a sort of treatise on the topic. I suggested to her that one of the most powerful and effective ways writers address and communiate such concerns is by celebrating an aspect of the environment, and I could see her mind clear immediately. She sat down and wrote as good a poem as I've read by a young person—beautifully structured, lyrically pleasing and both celebratory and thought-provoking. Very gratifying!

Other kids wrote stories and poems about trafficked children, refugee children—all sorts of topics, addressed with care and empathy and generosity. I remember a scene in one story where a father explains to his daughter why he believes arranging a marriage for her is in her best interests—extreme poverty meant he could no longer care for her. It was impressive with its maturity and empathy—a total lack of blame for this father, which struck me as wisdom beyond the young writer's years.

After the day of workshops ended, an exhibition and performance was held in the evening for the parents. With minutes to spare, we printed and framed extracts from the kids' writing, which was hung alongside the paintings produced in the art workshop. The drama kids performed their piece—but I am afraid that I was so cold and tired after a day spent in the chilly confines of the Sydney College of the Arts at Rozelle—and feeling neglectful of my old cat, hungry and cold at home—that I headed off to feed her and turn the heater on. And crash!

But I was thrilled to get a text message then next day from Tara, one of the coordinators of the day, to say that they'd raised nearly $2000 for Rotary's PolioPlus project. A day well spent—in every sense!

This Saturday just gone, I chaired a session at the NSW Writers' Centre's Festival of Literature for Children and Young Adults (at the same site as the Sydney College of the Arts—scene of last weekend's Project Creative Awareness). This is the first time I've attended this Festival, and I was impressed wth the large number of people who attended. There are clearly many people out there interested in writing for young people, and despite what many people assume about members of the various writers' centres across NSW (Litlink), these weren't amateurish "wannabes"—the audience was by and large engaged, informed, open to new ideas, anxious to learn from professionals and dedicated to improving their skills and their craft.

The panel I chaired was titled "Everyone Wants to Write a Picture Book". As panellist Mark Macleod observed, there was a certain "tone" to that title—a tongue-in-cheek, implied rolling of the eyes, and an intention to address the notion that picture books are short, therefore they must be easy to write. And as Mark also acknowledged, this was clearly not a fair characterisation of the audience members (see comments in the previous paragraph!).

And the panel was perfectly placed to both disabuse this notion and to offer a variety of experience. We had self-confessed "rookie" Mo Johnson (who I called Mo Willems in my welcome—don't let the pigeon chair the panel!), who has three unpublished but contracted books forth-coming, including what I can confirm will be a most beautiful picture book, Noah's Garden (Walker Books). It was fantastic to have a new writer on the panel, to give the audience an insight into the beginnings of a writer's career, and while she was nervous, Mo was also terrific.

Krista Bell has 22 books published, so she was able to speak from a position of established experience, which was also very valuable, including information about that (apparently) difficult concept that the writer may have little or no involvement with the selection of the illustrator, and little or no influence on the illustrative style and visual representation of their text.

Mark spoke from the point of view of the publisher, but also as an author, giving a generous and moving insight into the inspiration for his new picture book, Tomorrow.

Last speaker was new illustrator, Sarah Davis, who, despite the fact that she couldn't show her slides due to a technical glitch, gave much-needed insight into the role and craft of the illustrator.

Each speaker was excellent, reflected by the questions from the audience. I recorded the session, so once I have clearance from the panellists, I hope to upload it—somewhere!

I attended two other sessions—one on new directions in literary fiction for young adults mostly focused on censorship questions, which was probably useful for the audience, but a little tiresome for me! I guess I feel a bit as if this is an elephant in the room that we should ignore as far as possible in this country, in case we give people ideas... even so, the session reminded me that most censorship in this country happens at a mostly unseen level. We tend not to have censorship cause celebres all that often, thank goodness, but how much is happening at the selection level—in schools and libraries and even further back, in (marketing rather than editorial) meetings in publishing houses? How else to explain the comparatively conservative nature of young adult fiction in this country over the past decade?—a question raised by Woolshed Press publisher Leonie Tyle, and one which has preoccupied me for some time now. Back in 2001, when I met US writer and publisher Marc Aronson, he commented to me on what he considered to be the ground-breaking nature of Australian YA—I don't think that we can claim this characterisation any longer. Consider David Levithan's call to arms at Reading Matters last year...

Even so, I found the conversation a bit frustrating—there was no resolution, no way forward proposed. Not that I expected one in such a format—but I really wanted to hear about new directions in literary fiction for young adults! Because I think we're falling down on that count as well...

Oh well, you can never predict the direction of a conversation, which is essentially the way such panels develop, and so I don't mean to be critical. I guess I'm just not a very good audience member. (Just wish I'd been ON the panel, opinionated motor-mouth that I am!)

The final session I attended was a reading of the first page of manuscripts submitted by attendees. There was some good work read and commented upon, but many of them featured the hallmarks of inexperienced writers—too much "telling", particularly in terms of characterisation, which reveals a lack of confidence in the writer's own ability to create and show that character from the ground up. Starting too early in the narrative—leap headfirst into the action, people! A lack of truly original ideas—or original takes on well-worn topics. But there were some also genuinely funny and engaging and promising narratives, which (again) goes back to my them about the audience. Not everyone will have the opportunity, or talent, to be published, but that doesn't mean that they are not serious and professional about their ambitions to write. And that we with the great good fortune to be a part of this industry shouldn't offer our expertise and experience to the hopeful and ambitious. We were all hopeful and ambitious once.

Finally, Saturday's festival was a special occasion for me, because I was invited to launch my good friend Krista Bell's new picture book, Lofty's Mission. I have a special fondness for stories about animals in combat situations—and even for pigeons!—and Krista's lovely picture book, illustrated by David Miller, tells the story of a young Australian boy in WWII, whose favourite racing pigeon is taken to be a messenger bird in combat in PNG. As I said in my launch speech, the story reflects the bigger concerns of the community during wartime—the anxiety for loved ones in service, the hope that the conflict will be over (naively and unrealistically) soon—by Christmas, by next week—and in true children's literature tradition, it is a book with great heart and an optimism of spirit expressed through narrative.

Now, here's a moment of whimsy. Indulge me—I hope to have photographic evidence soon! At last week's Project Creative Awareness workshop, I noted a particularly handsome pigeon strutting around the venue—deep grey and perfect white, it had a particularly impressive ruff around its neck. A beautiful bird, whatever opinion you may have of pigeons, on or off the bus. And a week later, at the Writers' Centre festival, this proud fellow made a return appearance shortly after the launch of Lofty's Mission. Obviously, s/he was merely enjoying the bounty of its territory, but it was a nice touch for your respectful and negectful, but prone to making meanings and metaphors out of otherwise meaningless moments, blogger.

That would be me. Thanks for your patience. (The pigeon keeps a blog!)

Tonight I chaired a session at Max Webber Library in Blacktown for Sydney Writers' Festival. It's the first time I've been officially part of the festival—I don't know who was more excited to see my name on the program, me or my mum!

The panel was on speculative fiction, and featured writers D.M. Cornish (Monster Blood Tattoo) and David Kowalski (The Company of the Dead) and editor of Aurealis magazine Stuart Mayne. The focus of the panel was on world-building in speculative fiction. I took the title of the panel from a quote from Zilpha Keatly Snyder, published in a short piece in Innocence and Experience: Essays and Conversations about Children's Literature (Harrison and Maguire):

A long time ago Jean Karl told me that what an author must know about her story is like an iceberg—a huge pyramid only the tip of which appears in the written text but which is supported and authenticated by the underlying mass. I’ve found this to be true—and in the case of an alternate world, terribly true. One must work out every detail of the new society, every aspect of their domestic, social, educational, commercial, agricultural, governmental, and religious lives. It’s a large order. I remember that when I was working in Green-sky, I amassed huge amounts of information about my new world—much of which never appeared in the books. I even knew, for instance, what the plumbing was like in Green-sky.

We had over one hundred people at the session—a fantastic turnout, and a wonderful audience they were. All ages, all really interested in the topic and lots of fabulous questions at the end of the panel.

We treated it pretty much as a conversation between the three panellists. I had questions prepared, but let them run with wherever the conversation took them. I was a bit worried about halfway through the session—they'd covered pretty much everything I had down in my prepared questions—but there was always somewhere new to go.

We talked about the ten years David Cornish spent creating the world of The Half-Continent in the Monster Blood Tattoo books, long before he ever was convinced to turn it into a novel. As I half expected, language (and the creation of a language for David's world) was at the heart of his world-building—David had more than 20 notebooks filled with words and their meanings. (Readers of the books will recognise these notebooks as the basis of the Explicarium at the back of the books. David is also a highly acomplished illustrator—although he is largely leaving illustration behind to focus on his writing—but in fact, contrary to my assumption, the illustrations of the characters played only a minor role in the world-building. And the plot came much later still—during the process of writing the first novel, Foundling.

As Stuart pointed out, David Cornish created his world from the bottom up. David Kowalski, on the other hand, created the alternate history of The Company of the Dead from the top down.

The premise of The Company of the Dead is this: a time-traveller (Dr Wells—names are significant in both the panellist's books) goes back to try and prevent the sinking of Titanic. He is partially successful—the ship avoids the first iceberg, but hits a second one. Different people die, different people survive—and the result is a very different world than the one we (the reader) knows from the/our "real" world. (That's a very reductive description of a very long and complex narrative—David K said that he is always interested to hear how people summarise his book, as it's different every time.)

David had a bit of a different take on the whole question of world-building. For his process, it wasn't necessary for him to know all the finer details of his world—although the detail of the alternate history is fascinating and remarkable and also at times great fun—from passing references to that well-known Austrian artist Hitler, of John F Kennedy having his arm around his wife Norma Jean in the motorcade in Dealey Plaza in Dallas in 1963, to bigger picture questions of the reigning world powers, the segregation of the northern and southern states of the USA, the place of women and native and African Americans, the technology of the alternate world of 2012.

He gave as an example a significant battle that took place in his world (but off-stage and in the narrative past in the novel) in Mexico, a battle that serves as a kind of historical/political touchstone of horrified awe for his characters. At first, David intended to depict the battle, but then decided it was better if he didn't explore the actual events at all—that if it were something of a mystery to him, then he could better convey that sense of mystery and, I suppose, the mythology that builds up around such historical events. I'm not explaining this terribly well, I'm afraid. Let me use another example David K gave the audience.

We had prepared some images on a (ubiquitous!) Powerpoint presentation, one of which was a photograph of the Winged Victory of Samothrace from the Louvre. David pointed out that although the sculpture is "incomplete" or damaged, it is "complete" to the viewer, because we see it in its entire beauty and, I suppose, fill in the "gaps" from our own experience and perspective. It was a good anaology for the reading process, and exemplified the difference in the way the two Davids approached world-building in their different "takes" in writing speculative fiction.

Despite some rusty spots with the microphones, the panel was, I think, a great success, and we had some wonderful on-the-spot feedback from the audience. It's certainly true that many of the audience stayed back for book signings and to talk about a very beloved genre (and the publishing industry) with the (very generous) panellists. It can be hard to tell from "behind the desk" how the audience is responding, but I'm told from colleagues in the audience that it was all really well received.

I think there were a few really good strengths of the way we put the panel together. First of all, I was really pleased to have a writer for young people and an "adult" writer together on the panel—no south/north segregation here!—and Stuart's presence brought an overview from a genre fiction specialist, as well as a publisher's perspective, to an audience made up of of fans of the genre and many hopeful writers eager to learn about the craft and to gain some insights into the publishing industry. Which is, I would hope, what the festival is all about.

I recorded the session on my iPod, but haven't yet listened to it to hear how well it recorded. I'm hoping the quality will be good enough so that it can be uploaded somewhere yet to be determined the web—so stay posted!

And a photo: David Cornish, me, Stuart Mayne and David Kowalski (l-r)

No snappy title, but to make up for that, this blog entry is kind of an entry in a (friendly) competition between me and Jonathan Shaw and James Roy to make it first into blogdom about tonight's NSW Premier's Literary Awards! Last year, Jonathan won hands down on speed of upload and wit of delivery, so while I hope I might make it first to the finish line, I don't expect to meet Jonathan's panache—despite the fact I even took notes this year!

Where to start? OK, I'll start with the fact that I was placed on the UQP table, with James and his wife Vicki (with James shortlisted for the Ethel Turner Prize for Young People's Literature [ie YA fiction] for Town), Kathryn Lomer (Two Kinds of Silence) and David Malouf (Typewriter Music), both shortlisted for the Kenneth Slessor prize for poetry, and UQP folk. Our table was right up the front, close to the podium, which was a bit of a giveaway—and yes! Yes! James won for Town, and also Kathryn won the poetry prize for Two Kinds of Silence.

Back-tracking a bit, the dinner was once again held at the Art Gallery of NSW, but (despite the ever-increasing ticket price) somehow tonight's dinner felt a little more perfunctory than in past years. It's not exactly that the awards were rushed through, but there somehow seemed to be less fanfare (and less food and wine!) than we bookish types like from our awards dinners...

The main excitement of the night came from the announcement of the doubling of the prize money for all the winners. Most of the winners made mention of this in their speech (James was especially funny in this regard, saying he'd hoped that it would be a "really big cheque" like you get on [the game show] Deal or No Deal (ie one of those flashy five feet cardboard jobbies)—and that he and Vicki had "driven the truck down" in anticipation—but that it really was a "big cheque", just a different kind... Sorry, James, I think your joke lost something in my translation!).

I don't begrudge a cent that writers receive for such awards as these, but one has to wonder—where does the extra money come from? Will other arts programs' funding be cut to afford the bigger splash that these awards make?

Just askin'...

Not to bite the hand that feeds—back to the awards.

Peter Goldsworthy gave the address—he started out both witty and self-deprecating (citing an author event in Tasmania where his appearance was advertised as "Galsworthy") and making a serious point about the "more than 50%" of "dead white female" writers in whose names the NSW Premier's Literary awards are made, and citing some of the many important women writers who make up the Australian canon (Barbara Baynton, "HHR" Henry Handel Richardson, Christina Stead, Glenda Adams, Elizabeth Riddell). He ended up somewhere a bit weird and puzzling abut an imaginary encounter with an imaginary woman poet—lost me at that point, I'm afraid. Still, he was pretty cool.

Back to the awards: The Patricia Wrightson prize went to a picture book based on Li Cunxin's Mao's Last Dancer, The Peasant Prince, illustrated by Anne Spudvilas. The play award went to Debra Oswald for Stories in the Dark, a play developed with the Australian Theatre for Young People and the Riverside Theatre in Parramatta.

I really enjoyed hearing the acceptance speech from Will Christie for the Premier's Prize for Literary Scholarship for his biography of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Christie, an academic at the University of Sydney, said "The people who write literature and the people who write books about the people who write literature share a common aim and a common language". Amen to that.

Thomas Keneally won the Special Prize—a sort of life's work achievement prize—and was treated to a standing ovation. And Michelle de Kretser was obviously moved and humbled to win both the Christina Stead prize for fiction and the overall Book of the Year for The Lost Dog.

I've a big day tomorrow, including chairing a panel for the Sydney Writers' Festival, so I must get to bed. Sorry not to be able to record more anecdotes, of which, of course, there were a few, if not a-plenty. And no photos, alas—wasn't that kind of night.

But—cheers almighty for James and Town!

Two weeks ago it was Dad's 80th birthday, and today it's Mum's turn. Happy birthday, Mum!

And here's a lovely photo of Mum (Edith) and Dad (Barry) from last year.

I've just got in from the three day biennial CBCA Conference, held this year in Melbourne. (I can hardly believe it's just two years since the Sydney conference—how time does fly!) I'm pretty knackered, so tonight I might not get down everything I want to cover, but here's a start at least.

I flew down to Melbourne on the Thursday before the conference proper began on Friday. I had hoped to make some appointments with publishers, but that all fell through, so I did what any self-respecting Sydney-sider does when they visit Melbourne—I ate lunch in a small, licenced café in one of Melbourne's delightful laneways and then went shopping! (And apart from clothes shopping, I also visited the Sticky Institute shopfront—a place dedicated to zines and personal publishing—and stocked up on some sample publications. It was Work, after all...)

I also met with Mike and Lili from the Centre for Youth Literature (CYL) at the State Library of Victoria on Thursday afternoon, the first time we've had a chance to sit down and chat face-to-face about the Western Sydney young people's literature project. We're all really keen to work together, to develop a network of programs for young readers—it's great to have such supportive colleagues (which also includes CYL's director Paula Kelly, who I met for the first time at the conference, and Lesley Reece from the Fremantle Children's Literature Centre) and I feel completely optimistic about how all our respective programs are going to continue to develop, how much the western Sydney project is going to benefit from the experience of these long-established programs/centres, and how much good-will is out there to nurture and support young readers across Australia. More on that in time...

Then I headed back for the conference opening night reception, where Maurice Saxby launched the facsimile edition of the classic 1952 non-fiction book The Australia Book by Eve Pownall, illustrated by Margaret Senior.

(I interrupt this report to say that the TV series based on Tim Winton's "Lockie Leonard" books has just won the Logie for best children's television. Woo-hoo!)

I guess I should start by saying I missed the opening session on Friday, as I chose instead to go to an event at CYL—a panel called "It's Different for Girls". The panellists were Sue Lawson, JC Burke, Maureen McCarthy and Julia Lawrinson, and the audience was almost entirely made up of young (high-school aged) women (and two young men, who were from time to time warned to stick their fingers in their ears).

It was a terrifically entertaining and at times provocative session, with scenes from books by all four writers performed by members of the St Martin's Youth Theatre (where the Centre had its origins back in the 90s). Each of the writers spoke about writing about girls, about being girls, and it was a wonderful affirmation of the importance of the representation of female experience in books for young readers (female and male—I was sitting behind those two young men in the audience, and I tapped them on the shoulder and suggested that rather than sticking their fingers in their ears when the discussion turned to periods and sex and so on, that they should listen carefully and get some tips—emotional/social insider trading, if you like!).

I had to leave the "It's Different for Girls" panel before I got to hear Maureen McCarthy, because I was keen to get back to the CBCA conference to hear keynote presentations from Professor Jack Zipes and Wendy Cooling—of which more later, because I am beyond tired and not able tonight to properly report on what they had to say, and the context in which they spoke, and I want to give them fair coverage for Misrule readers when I am more awake than I am right now.

So do come back for more detailed reports from your humble conference correspondent in the coming days—more on the various keynotes and panels and concurrent sessions, on the chance to meet up with old friends and new, the pleasingly increased number of uncorrected proofs/advanced reading copies of new books Australian publishers are now making available to folks like us...

Oh, and Neil Gaiman.

And the somewhat tetchy discourse between Jack Zipes and the Bloomsbury publisher of the Harry Potter books.

And the totally fabulous keynote from Shaun Tan.

But I missed my plane home, and I have an event tomorrow, so now to bed. I'll be back!

This is just a pointer to an up-coming event in my western Sydney project: Melina Marchetta will be guest speaker at Blacktown City Library on Monday 5 May. This is a free public event and we'd love to have a tonne of people there, especially young people interested in Melina's books and in writing.

Read about it at the westword blog, where you can download information and a booking sheet for school groups. (It's free, but we need to have some idea of numbers.)

My Dad turned 80 today. 80! It sounds so much older than I can ever think of him. He said to me today that 80 sounds like someone with a walking frame. Dad's a long way from a walking frame—he and Mum (who hits the same milestone two weeks from today) still live in their own home, and are likely to do so for some time.

Here's a photo of Dad (Barry John Ridge) taken by me at Easter at Katoomba Falls. We lived in Katoomba from 1965-1971, and Dad was very happy there (as were we all). This was one of his favourite spots, and he and I braved the rain and mist to take a turn there on Easter Saturday (Mum sensibly stayed at the house and did the cross-word puzzle). It's a lovely photo—and that's an umbrella Dad is holding, not a walking stick!

Happy birthday, Dad! I love you.

As I have mentioned a number of times, I subscribe to various listserves/online discussion groups about children's and YA literature (and I have from time to time wondered why so relatively few Australians pop up on those lists, given our well-documented national enthusiasm for taking up technology...).

Anyway... today I received an email from a woman in the USA on the child_lit listserve who has just read Ursula Dubosarsky's The Red Shoe (she called it "compelling yet sobering", which I thought was a perfect summation), asking me for a.) a recommendation for her next Australian YA read (she has a sister here who can send books to her) and b.) recommendations for online sources of reviews of Australian YA and children's books.

Now, gentle readers, this may come as a surprise to you, but I don't actually read that many Australian review blogs, and I don't do too much reviewing myself these days, so I had to do a bit of research in order to assist my State-side friend (Hi Ginny, if you're reading this...)

I came up with what I think is a respectable list for Ginny, but at the risk of sounding like Column 8, I'd really love to hear from regular Misrule readers regarding where they get their (Australian) reading recommendations from.

These are the sites I suggested to Ginny:

http://www.readplus.com.au

http://cmisevalff.edublogs.org

http://cmiseval.edublogs.org


http://www.slv.vic.gov.au/services/education/youthlit/readalert

http://www.insideadog.com.au


http://betweenthelines.com.au

http://www.aussiereviews.com

Have I missed any important Australian review sites?

You know what to do—leave your comments on the virtual answering machine. Thanks!

I didn't make it to the shortlist announcement today—too busy at work—but it's a most fascinating list. I haven't come across many of these books, so lots of reading ahead. I am interested to see a number of picture books on the Patricia Wrightson prize (the younger of the two children's/youth lit categories)—picture books rarely get a look-in in the Premier's. (The older readers category is the Ethel Turner prize.)

As is often the case, there's very little cross-over with the CBCA awards shortlist. I'm not sure if that's to do with different publication cut-off/eligibility dates for the two awards, but it's always good for the joy to be spread around.

And speaking of which—fabulous to see one of my favourites from last year, James Roy's Town, recognised. Woot woot!

 

Last Wednesday evening I attended the launch of a new imprint for Random House Australia children's books. The imprint, Woolshed Press, is headed up by Leonie Tyle, who was children's publisher at the University of Queensland Press for more than ten years.

Andrew Kelly from Black Dog Books calls Leonie Random's "star recruit", which I believe is a fair assessment—Leonie is highly regarded for her role overseeing UQP's respected (and frequently awarded) children's and YA list, and has formed fiercely loyal relationships with her authors. She tells me she leaves UQP in good shape as she moves on to this genuinely exciting and important development in Australian publishing for children.

The Woolshed Press is modelled on imprints such as David Fickling Books for Random House UK, and will focus on publishing "world class literary titles" that "showcase the best of Australian storytelling". Leonie says that Woolshed Press will "bring together inspirational new voices alongside some of our favourite published authors to build a list that will put the edge back into Australian children's publishing".

I take these quotes from the information brochure for the new imprint, but I genuinely have high hopes for this new list. It's good to have a focused, literary Australian list for young readers under such an experienced hand as Leonie's. Woolshed Press presents as a boutique list, publishing just six books in its first year, with a planned twelve titles per year after that. And the list of authors and illustrators already signed up is impressive:

• James Roy
• Brian Caswell
• Catherine Bateson
• Bill Condon
• Celeste Walters
• Anne Spudvilas
• Anthony Eaton

plus new author Victoria Bowen.

This is not to suggest that other Australian children's publishers don't have a serious commitment to quality, literary publishing, but I do think that it's worth keeping an eye on the Woolshed Press imprint. More photos at my flickr account.

Here's a photo from the launch of Leonie with the godfather of Australian children's literature, Maurice Saxby.

Just FYI, I have updated the westword blog with what I've been up to in the past few weeks in my western Sydney young people's literature project.

And the Children's Book Council of Australia 2008 book of the year shortlists have been announced. Please also check out the Notables list. Some of my favourite older readers books from last year, James Roy's Town, Steven Herrick's Cold Skin and Nick Earls and Rebecca Sparrow's Joel and Cat Set the Record Straight, are notables but did not make the shortlist.

I've actually only read one title on the older readers list—Meme McDonald's beautiful Love Like Water, and one of the younger readers, Odo Hirsch's Amelia Dee and the Peacock Lamp, which I also really liked, so I am now setting about catching up with my 2007 reading.

If you have any thoughts on the shortlist, leave 'em here!