Showing posts with label Australia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Australia. Show all posts

The Silence, by Murray Bail

 

By Núria Lecina

BIOGRAPHY

Murray Bail (born the 22nd of September 1941) is an Australian writer of novels, short stories and non-fiction.

He was born in Adelaide, South Australia, a second son of Cyril Lindsay Bail (1914-1966) and Hazel Bail (née Ward). His father worked in the tramways and his mother was a housewife and a milliner. He has two brothers.

He has been married twice. His first wife was Margaret Bail (née Wordsworth). They got married in 1965 and divorced in 1988.

His second wife was ​Helen Garner; they got married in 1992, and they divorced in 2000. She also was a well-known Australian writer.

He has lived most of his life in Australia, except for sojourns in India (1968-70), England and other parts of Europe (1970-74). After working for advertising agencies in Adelaide and Melbourne, he moved with his first wife to India in 1968, where he worked for an agency in Bombay. During his travels, he became ill of amoebic dysentery and went to London for treatment. Once there, he decided that the novel he had written in India was worthless and threw it in the trash.

For recovering, he remained in London for five years (1970-1975), spending the first year on unemployment benefits. He then wrote for many newspapers, which encouraged him to publish his first novels once he returned to Australia. This travel’s experience influenced him. Many of his works reflect which he, an Australian, thinks when observing his country from outside, its culture, and the way people live.

Now he lives in Sydney.

Before dedicating himself to literature, Bail worked in galleries and as an art critic. He was trustee of the National Gallery of Australia from 1976 to 1981, and wrote a book on Australian artist Ian Fairweather.

 

Bail is considered one of the most innovative Australian writers in short fiction, classified as very interesting, unique and an intellectual of the 20th century.

He is known for his dry humour and for challenging the traditional narrative. Bail used to say that novels should not be stories with a beginning and an end, but that they should be instruments for thinking. That inspiration comes from mistakes. When nothing goes as you expected, imagination begins, he says.

He did not believe in sudden inspiration, he believes in thought and patience. He could spend years revising a work. He is an admirer of Kafka, Borges, Nabokov and Calvino —all writers who play with language and with the way people tell stories.

He had often said that Australians were too practical, and that the local culture did not value invention or fantasy.

He says it with irony, but it is a real criticism: he wanted Australian literature to stop being just stories of the outback and survival, and become a more philosophical and universal literature. He doesn’t have a very extensive body of work, but he does have a lot of work to do. He says that writing is like making furniture with words: few pieces, but well-made and useful. This is in line with his passion for cabinetmaking and object design.

 

HIS WORK

 

-Novel

Homesickness (1980)

Holden’s Performance (1987)

Eucalyptus (1998). He has been awarded several times for this work. This is the story of a botanical fairy tale. It is his most famous novel, where realism and fairy tale are mixed. A father promises that only he who knows the name of all the eucalyptus trees of his property will be able to marry his daughter. Curiously, Eucalyptus was to be made into a film starring Nicole Kidman and Russell Crowe, but the production was cancelled at the last minute due to artistic disagreements between Bail and the director.

Camouflage (2000)

The Pages (2008)

The Voyage (2012)

 

-Non-fiction

Ian Fairweather (1981). This work was written when Murray was working on the National Gallery of Australia; it’s a biography of this artist, an Australian painter who was also eccentric and solitary, who lived in a cabin made of drums and scrap wood.

Longhand (1989)

 

-Notebooks 1970-2003 (2005)

He (2021). The last book, only 164 pages to explain his autobiography. He writes it in the third person; he doesn’t like to use the first. It’s curious that he describes why he started writing his memoirs: it was dissatisfaction of his way of working, sitting at a table writing every morning and at weekends. And he admits that the inspiration for his fiction is found in his childhood memories and travels. He says that he has lost interest in art, and that music occupies more of his free time than looking at paintings.

 

-Short fiction

Contemporary Portraits and Other Stories (1975), republished in 1986 as The Drover's Wife and Other Stories. Here is where we can find our short story, The Silence.

 

 

SUMMARY

 

Let’s set the scene:

Australia is a continent of seven and half millions square kilometres. It’s the largest world island. In spite of this extension, there are only 28 million inhabitants and the population density is of 3,4 residents for square kilometre.

The first residents arrived there 42,000 years ago. They were nomads, hunters and collectors. Their spirituals values were revering the earth and believing in the dream time. Nowadays, Aboriginal people keep this culture even though the political changes. It’s the country less world populated, where the ninety per cent lives in the urban areas. The big portion inside is arid and desert.

It would be in one of these deserts, some years ago, that we could imagine at our character, Joe Tapp.

The Silence seems a simple history. Joe Tapp lives in the desert, in an enormous landscape, alone, in a campsite where he has a tent, a freeze, a petrol drum, firewood that obtain from some cut trees and a lot of rubbish. All of it scattered.

It’s not clear if Joe is an Aboriginal Australian, but his habits and his behaviour make us think that he is very close to this culture.

His life is very repetitive, the story explains his daily routines. For over a year he has been there, in the desert, hunting rabbits that live hidden in the dunes. He sets traps so that they are stuck in the rabbit’s neck. His activity is in the morning, he goes with sacks on his back to collect the corpses. Once in the camp, he skins and cleans them, removes the pelts and puts them in the freezer. He rests, and at sunset, he returns to the trap area to prepare them again. He sleeps and starts the new day again.

Joe is an introverted person, rooted in the environment where peace and silence reign; tranquillity is only broken by some animal noise. It’s the silence of nature.

All this activity, which aims at his survival, is altered every two weeks when Norm Treloar arrives with his noisy red truck, to buy and pick up the dead frozen rabbits. This is the only relation with another human. Joe doesn’t feel well at all when Norman arrives. Norman is a communicative man, and always, like a social routine, greets him, asks him how everything is going. Then, they load the meat on the truck, they have a tea, and finally Norman leaves, raising the desert’s dust. All return to natural state, the silence!

Joe feels worse and worse each time. He is overwhelmed, often thinks about the meeting with Norman, and suffers waiting for the next time. Every time he feels the meeting more intrusive. Breaking the silence bothers him, disturbs him. Norman’s words and noise offend him. He doesn’t want this relationship, he even throws to the fire the newspaper that Norman lefts. He wants silence, but also humanity disconnection. But he needs to go on with the business.

Joe thinks about his work, enjoys his peace, he loves to be there, surrounded by nature, he spends hours squatting. Like an Aboriginal.

And when suddenly he heard the truck’s far noise, Joe knows what he would do. He runs to the sand dune and hides behind the bushes. From there, he can see the campsite, and he lets Norman do the work. The truck driver looks around, searches for Joe, honks the horn, smokes a cigarette, and finally goes to the freezer, fills the truck with the meat, and leaves.

The silence returns, and Joe comes back to the campsite ready to carry on his work. Now he can go and setting rabbit’s traps, happy to have had a resolution.

 

My opinion

Silence is the absence of all sound or noise. In this story, it is the fact of stopping talking little by little. Joe is becoming more and more silent. For what reason?

Joe decided to be there more than a year ago, in the desert. We don’t know where he came from or what he did before, or why he came there. He chose to live in a place where it was easier to find himself, to be in contact with a silent world, to live at his own pace.

I think that the environment has been absorbing and integrating him in the nature, and he has finally found an inner peace and a meaning to his life. Possibly we, who live in a completely different place, don’t understand this. We live in a continuous communication, sometimes very crazy.

Silence can also be a kind of non-verbal communication, and maybe Joe’s story wants to transmit this other lifestyle to us. Maybe it’s not necessary to speak a lot and think more.

 

QUESTIONS

-Hunting with traps today here is forbidden: What can be the rules for an "ethical" hunt?

-Now and then there is a rabbit pest, or a locust pest, or any kind of pests. If they are natural phenomena, must we fight them?

-What are the benefits of being alone? And the damages? Do we need moments to be alone? Why are we nowadays more individualistic?


VOCABULARY

singlet, drums, burrowed, gears, whine, melt, sport, juice, grub, saltbush, billy, rowdy, strain, stunted, revved

 

My Wife is a White Russian, by Rose Tremain

SOME WORDS ABOUT ROSE TREMAIN, by Elisa Sola

 

Rose Tremain was born on August 2nd, 1943. Nowadays, she is 81 years old. She was born as Rosemary Jane Thomson, but she married John Tremain in 1971, and they had a daughter. The marriage lasted about five years, and she remarried the theatre director Jonathan Dudley. This marriage lasted nine years. Since 1992 she is with Richard Holmes.

She was educated at Francis Holland School, Crofton Grange School, the Sorbonne (1961-1962) and the University of East Anglia (BA, English Literature), with which she has been very linked professionally, because she taught creative writing in this University from 1988 to 1995, and she became Chancellor in 2013. She has written three collections of short stories and nine novels, and she is best known as a historical novelist, who approaches her subjects “from unexpected angles, concentrating her attention on unglamorous outsiders”. When she was young, she experienced an epiphany: “I remember standing in the middle of a very beautiful hayfield with the sun going down and thinking that I didn’t want just to describe how beautiful I thought that place was, but I wanted to write down all my feelings about it, and then try to make some equation between that place and what I felt about it, and what hopes I had for my own life. I can remember the intensity of it…, and it seemed to me then that my life would be a life in which this process of describing and identifying feelings would play a part.” Although she knew that she was a writer very early, she didn’t publish any fictions until she was 33. In an interview about her work, she explains that she avoids the autobiographical fiction, because she is not interested in writing about herself, although there are aspects of her life in all of her novels. What she wants to show are the sensations, the emotions experienced by her protagonists. In this sense, she did many interviews with Polish workers in her neighbourhood, and not so much to steal the stories of their lives, but to understand what they have felt in the case of so many adversities. About the documentation for her historical novels, she says that she has to do it in such a way that it doesn’t seem like it, the data has to be digested and integrate into the novel naturally. Tremain has judged the Booker prize twice, in 1988 and 2000, and makes no secret of the fact that she would love to win it.

 

SOME LINKS:


An article:

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2003/may/10/featuresreviews.guardianreview5


An interview to Rose Tremain:

https://youtu.be/oXSXVc0DcGA



SUMMARY

 

During a business lunch, a wealthy financier, elderly and disabled, explains the relationship he has with his wife and express some reflections about the meaning of his life and about his behaviour. The anecdote takes place in a luxurious French restaurant in London, in a sunny morning in May, and the protagonists are two couples of two businessmen and their wives. This framework is the pretext that allows the protagonist to tell the story of his intimate life, always from his unique point of view. The literary device used is the description of the present meal and the mixing of the memories of the past. The protagonist, named Hubert (the only character in the story whose name we know and the only one who narrates, because the story is written in the first person), tells us that he is a rich financier who has many investments in precious metals, and we know that his work gives him great satisfaction - even physical. We can deduce that business has been the centre of his life (“I hope you’re happy in your work” is the advice he gives to the young financier, as if it were a testament). 

Throughout the narration we realize that the protagonist had a stroke that left him paralysed and that he has many mobility and speech problems, which gives more strength and authenticity to his reflections, because he makes them from pain and from the truth of his life, as if passing an account review. 

The character that is best described is that of his wife, as the title of the story announces. He tells us right away that his wife doesn’t love him and has always been with him for money. He tells us that they met in Paris, and that she was a very poor white Russian, and she agreed to be with him for money (“I’ll fuck for money”). The white Russian is addicted to luxury, jewels, wine, opera and ballet, and she is described as a superficial, selfish and domineering person. 

We deduce that they have a toxic relationship of dependence on each other: he is emotionally and physically dependent on her (physically: “he married her because he began to need her body” / emotionally: “he, obediently, moved out to the child’s room”). On the other hand, she is financially dependent on him, but also dependent on his contempt for him. She seems to enjoy ignoring him (“without looking at me, she puts my glass down in front of me”, “I exist only in the corner of her eye”), not letting anyone help him “don’t help him!”... 

The story is built on oppositions, which are loaded with meaning and which help to emphasize the message: the young couple and the old couple, the white Russian (his wife) and the wife of the young financier, Toomin Valley before (fertile and rainy) and Toomin Valley now (immense desert), as a metaphor for his own life, the young woman’s freckles and his old man’s spots on his skin (“his blotched hand with oddly and repulsive stains”), the dark mouth of his wife (“why are your lips this terrible colour these days?the colour of claret”) and the frank smile of the young woman (“freshly peeled teeth and a laugh”) ... 

There are also very powerful images that act as symbols of the sexual relationship: the oysters they eat (“she sucks an oyster into her dark mouth”), the scallops “saffron yellow and orange”, warm colours that lead us to female sex, and the author goes on into this metaphor explaining that the flesh of the scallop is firm and soft “like a woman’s thigh when it is young”. During the banquet, he’s reliving moments of his sexual relationship, having in front of him the voracity of his wife (“She is drinking quite fast”) and the tenderness of the young couple. Above all, the difference between the two women stands out: “She is drinking quite fast” (his wife) in front of the tenderness of the young Australian wife. The comparison highlights the difference between the two women.

The protagonist approaches the relationship with his wife as just another business. He marries her to decorate his life: “her body, the white and the gold of her (the importance of colours to define people!), I thought, will ornament my life”, but we see that he is completely hooked in this relationship, a relationship that he lives in silence; “I wanted to brush her gold hair and hold it against my face, but I didn’t ask her if I could do this because I was afraid she would say: ‘you can do it for money’”. And silence or lack of communication is the essential element at the end of the story. In the last paragraph, the narration takes an unexpected turn. From decrepitude, but with lucidity, he stops looking for reasons for his heartbreak outside, and does an exercise in self-criticism. The protagonist seems to realize that what would have given meaning to his life is love, symbolized by the pair of young Australians, “with their fingers touching...”, into the private moments together is crammed all that we ask for life”. And he laments that she never loved him, asking the big question, “Why did she never love me?” And he finds the answer in his silence and in the hardness of his words, a twist of script that we might not have expected, but which is very instructive. How many times should we stop complaining about the behaviour of others to start looking inside ourselves? This mea culpa has surprised us.

We have missed the point of view of his wife, who looks for the meaning of life in art, in opera and classical ballet, and she does not find it. How would the story be told by his wife?

 

QUESTIONS

-The financier thinks: “If she loved me, she probably wouldn’t mind wiping my arse.” What is your opinion about this?

-Do you think theirs is a toxic relationship? Why?

-How do you react when some invalid / stammerer / … needs some help? What is it the best behaviour towards them?

-Have you seen the film Indecent Proposal? Do you think everybody has a price?

-Have you written your last orders? Do you think everyone has to do it?

-What can do a wife to stop being only a wife?

-How do you know when somebody is a snob? Is his wife a snob? How do you know?

-According to your mind, why does she like Don Giovanni so much?

-Do you think marriages between sex workers and their costumers are good matches?

-What does the last sentence (“the answer comes from deep underground: it’s the hardness of my words”) mean for you?

Why does the narrator use the adjective “white” to describe his Russian wife?

 

 

VOCABULARY

assets, dabbing, prancing, riff-raffy, bean pole, pavement, scallops, cooped up, scorching, gritty, escarpment, still-life, trundled