Godknows what....

         Can't believe it's been 2-3 weeks since I opened this up and actually DID something. Something write-y. Have been preoccupied with other projects - I like to always have at least 5 in the wings - and dealing with the side effects of "The Wog" on both of us. We had all the shots available, but got something else, been battling The Bug for weeks.

        One of the side effects - there are many! - has been the re-emergence of a quiet rage. A quiet rage at the passing of the light. It's directed only at inanimate objects, things that refuse to do what I want when I want, when I feel myself going off into uncontrollable fucken this and fucken that and come out of it feeling even worse. I should be above that. But I'm not. Some days it's Technology, some days it's Human Stupidity. God knows we seem to be buried in both.

        So, I've recently had to re-assess my inner life because of it.

        I'm 87, and there's still so much to - I was about to say "do", but it's more like "know". I'm not satisfied that I yet know enough. And it's like my spirit has shrivelled up because of it. I crave empty space, empty time, to write. Because only in thinking and writing do I gain some understanding, and some peace. And I haven't written anything new for months. I've been productive, but not creative.

        I have something nagging at me - do you get that? - those vague dis-quiet-nesses that come from not being able to hear what your spirit is whispering? - they never let up some days. They're saying something about writing down. Recording. But maybe it's just an old man thrashing about looking for the answers to Life, the ones that aren't there. Maybe I need to ask myself what I believe in.

        Trev

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Why you should...

 "NEVER HIT A JELLYFISH WITH A SPADE" - Guy Browning (2004 UK)

        Every so often you need to get into something deep and meaningful. THIS isn't one of them. And you have to have slight Monty Python leanings.

        Apparently Browning does a regular column of "How To..." for the Weekend Magazine supplement of UK's Guardian newspaper, and this is a selection. I'm only part way through but I'll be using this (found it at the Salvos) for essential time-to-time distraction.

        There's about 120 of these 2-pager "insights", under 12 headings (Teenagers & Students, Hedges & Neighbours, etc etc). A few extracts....

    How to ... sneeze
        Sneezing expels air from your nose at approximately 100 mph, except in Norfolk where it's much slower.

    How to ... have a cold
        The enemy of the cold is the hot toddy. This is a traditional remedy consisting of whisky, honey, nutmeg, kerosene, WD 40, and the juice of a lemon. A properly made hot toddy is so disgusting to drink that the cold seems relatively pleasant afterwards.

    How to ... use a fridge
        Philosophers have often speculated whether the fridge light is still on when the door is closed. In return, fridges often speculate whether philosophers still talk rubbish when they take their corduroy jackets off.

    How to ... have big ears
        Some famous people have been known to glue their ears down in order to make themselves seem more streamlined. The trick here is to make sure the glue is strong enough as there's nothing worse than making a big social entrance with your nicely flush ears only to have one suddenly break free and fly open like a taxi door.

        Well worth browsing a copy if you have one in your local Salvo Op Shop, but I haven't yet found out why you should never hit a jellyfish with a spade.

        Cheers....

                T.R.E.

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Emotional journey through Time

        It's a strange thing, about artefacts, the personal ones I mean, from the past. Especially at this time when I'm deep into my (probably last) novel. Artefacts bring so much old stuff to the surface. It's like this....    

    My Dad left a set of diaries, did daily entries from age 16 to his death at nearly 80. My Mum - being a good mother - kept everything we kids did for her since about 1940, you know the stuff, cute Mother's Day cards done in Grade One, letters, drawings, report cards. The other day I pulled the whole lot out and went through them in detail for the first time, as I was looking for my childhood.

        The thing is, my childhood home and all of its landmarks are under the Kangaroo Creek Reservoir, up in the Adelaide Hills, and Mum and Dad split up just after we moved there in 1946. Or so I thought. But as my current project is a "fictionalised" version of a personal memoir of the first 12 years of my life (as I did in "Jemma Raglan"), I need to get the timeline and the facts clear in my head before I get in any deeper. And I need to get the main character's Point Of View right. HOW did that 8 year old see the adult events going on around him?

        And okay, this is a piece of writing that will have no commercial value, but I need to do it, capture a way of life that is gone and will never come back - no power, no phones, no sewerage, walk to school 2-3 kms and back through scrub every day, trout in the river, rabbits to shoot, made our own butter, there were hills to roam, oranges to pinch, every 8yo boy had a shanghai and every 13yo boy had a .22 rifle. It was close-to-the-earth living. In the Artificial Intelligence world that's coming it's a record of a Time and an Age I need to leave behind for anyone who has enough heart and soul to appreciate it.

        Mum's collection starts in 1923 (she would've been 10-11), with a Second Prize certificate for her  "Plate Of Scones" at that year's Kersbrook Agricultural Show, followed up the next year with a First Prize. That tended to set the nostalgic and emotional tone. Then I got into my own bits - Report Cards from 1945 (Grade One) onwards plus my daily (badly) illustrated "diary" entries, my heartfelt (and badly spelt) letters to Mum when she went to Brisbane in 1945 when Dad was there in the Army Hospital (3 times I asked when she was coming home!). And heaps more.

        Then I got to studying Dad's diaries properly, which shot holes in all of my recollections of the first 18 months in our Hills home by the river. For a week now I've had to try and get so much stuff comfortable, and with both my older and younger brother now gone, and a couple of key first cousins, there's no-one to bounce stuff off. Added to that, Google AI tells me there was never a house under the reservoir! Clearly digital bullshit. And some time ago I tracked down and contacted my best mate (and partner in crime) from those school years, who's now a biggish wheel, and got the general impression he didn't want to reminisce!

        To cap it off, I went looking for my old Primary School teacher of the day, a big man with a short fuse who I (and my 10yo self) have always thought badly of, only to find that he'd been through the trenches of the Western Front as a young man.

        So, sitting here re-evaluating just about everything "childhood". And will have to chuck away most of the preliminary drafts, trying to re-visit all those people, places, and times. Life is a funny old business!

        Cheers....

            Trev

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What I confirmed this week...

        I tried to read a novel (written in the late '60s I suspect), published in the early '70s, by a well known South Australian woman from the local world of both Literature and Art. A big name at the time.

        As I understand it, it was well received at the time, but I have to say that I dumped it after three pages, finding it totally self-indulgent and over-written in which very little happens out in the tangible world. I came away with a clear re-affirmation that there are "female" novels, where most of the action is on the "inside", and there are "male" novels, where most of the action is on the "outside".

        Okay, sounds naive and trite, but it's pretty close to the (my) truth. And there's heaps of novels that fall in between the two, have a good healthy balance of inner thoughts and feelings and relationships, and with things actually happening out in the physical world. Other than sex.

        That's all, just a passing observation. Stirring up.

            Cheers...

                    Trev

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But has it ended .... ?

 "THE INFINITE SADNESS OF SMALL APPLIANCES" -
         Glen Dixon (USA 2026)

        Further to the interim review below.....

        Now finished this interesting - and yes, mildly disturbing to the end - book, but I would bet London to a brick that in time there will be a sequel, and it will all finish up on something Netflix-y. It just has that feel, as the end sort of "hangs" unsatisfied and the characters are "heart-warming". Without being cute.

        But I still say get hold of a copy, even if you're not into - what? - no, can't say that it's category is "Fantasy" or "Sci-Fi" - maybe its breaking new genre ground. But have a read and see what you think. Well worth the journey into the Near Future.

            Cheers....

                    Trev

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Currently being disturbed by...

"THE INFINITE SADNESS OF SMALL APPLIANCES" -
         Glen Dixon (USA 2026)

        My 25 year old granddaughter lent me this book, saying it's easily the best she's read this year. That from Smudge was all I needed to dive straight in.

        I'll start by saying - this book should be compulsory reading for anyone under 30, as it gives an insight into what they and their kids and grandkids just may have to deal with, which is the A.I. World, and where it could - conceivably - be going.

        Okay, ten pages in I was thinking it was just a bit - what? - twee? - what with household appliances talking to each other and a wrist watch running the house and the lives of the people inside like a troupe of devoted servants. Like in Downton Abbey.

        BUT - now deep into it, I find it just a tad unsettling.

        It's set in about 2050 (going by a 300yrs ago comment on Bach), which is one generation away, when A.I. runs just about everything, ostensibly for the care and comfort of its Humans. But after a while you realise there's something deeper going on. The machines of "The Grid" are taking over!

        Okay, fanciful? Think about this - today my car talks to me, my PC knows what my preferences are, and my mobile phone always knows where I am. Also, A.I. is already way way quicker than we are, is gobbling up the world's data (I just had another 160 hits from USA in one day) at an unbelievable rate of knots, and "Data Centres" are going up everywhere. And if you check over to the left in "I Just Had To Ask..." you'll see that "they" (who the hell are "They"??) are using AI to now write itself.

        Is this just some mild paranoia? So I set about posing more questions....

How many hyperscale data centres are there in the USA, and are some connected to each other?

        About 600 operational big ones, and yes, they are "...deliberately engineered to be part of a highly connected unified global grid. Hyperscalers (such as Amazon, Microsoft, Google, and Meta) link their facilities using high capacity fibre optic networks..."

Aren't Amazon, Microsoft, Google, and Meta competitors?

        "Yes, they are fierce competitors..."

Why do fierce competitors Amazon, Microsoft, Google, and Meta link their data centres?

        "...not to share proprietary data but to ensure reliable global internet speeds, manage latency (the time taken to process a request and deliver a response), and create redundant backup networks..."

What household appliances is it possible to now operate from a mobile phone?

        Air conditioner, lighting, security and access, the garage door, the Roomba vacuum, the oven, the fridge, TV, sound system, coffee maker, and space heaters.

        Why why why in God's name you would WANT to run these things from your bloody phone is beyond me, but that's the way it all sems to be going. We are handing over pieces of our lives for the sake of convenience, laziness, and titillation. As I see it.

        So, digest all this, ask AI Google your own questions, then read this book.

            Cheers....

                    Trev

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Short stories over time [ 5 ]

        Still not sure what to make of this exercise, as I feel certain that there's surely been a wealth of material for the editor to choose from over the decades, but a touch too many of them here (in my opinion) not really the quality you'd expect. And okay, the majority are in the Fairly Good to (but not enough) Brilliant, just that you'd think she would've picked better representatives of each decade. But I'll reserve final judgement until I wade through the mass of '80s and '90s. to come.

1970 to 1979

        There are 10 selected for this decade, which surprises me yet again considering there's 32 coming up in the 1980s, and another 32 in the 1990s. Was the writing poorer back then? Starting to wonder now what her selections would be for the 2000s, the 2010s and the 2020s.

        The main thing I noticed is how the mood and the content changes quite markedly from the "old" decades, because suddenly there's a lot on relationships, the striving for a sense of meaning, and of inner satisfaction, and all in urban settings. It's like Australians suddenly started questioning their lives. And I remember that well. We became more self-absorbed, more conscious of our "inner" life. And to make the point, have a look at what a young and naive guy wrote in ....  "MY" 1960s    ....compared to the  very different tone of....   "MY" 1970s

        Looking forward to the next two decades of this exercise, but will put it aside for a while, dive into a novel maybe. So much up there on my "I'm Still Waiting!" shelf.

        Cheers....

                 Trev

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The literary week that was...

        It's been one of those weeks where small events force you to question literary things near and dear to you. I've come to realise that I'm an Analogue Man in a Digital Age. It goes like this....

        I heard that a welter of novels now listed on Amazon are mostly or fully AI-generated. So I checked. 

        Yep, a "flood". But the review of them contains such words as "trashy" and "mundane" and "badly constructed", and even though Amazon insists now on an AI content statement, they do not disclose how many there are. But Google AI says it's "thousands", and goes on to say that in January this year 1,100 arrived in a single day, and one dickhead with no real talent (sorry, my words) put up over 200 in a year, so their Kindle Direct Publishing branch has had to cap it to no more than 3 a day from any one "author".

        Now is that - what? - crap to the nth degree?? Yep, sure is.

        Next thing, I had a (small, local, new) publisher knock-back on my last novel (which was created with no digital help). Regardless of how old, how experienced, or how thick your skin has become, that "Unfortunately, at this time... blah blah blah..." (they all use the same rejection statement), and then  words of encouragement, always slumps you for a while.

        They suggested they were always looking for "something different" and with a "local content". Mine is surely both of those. But they never (it's a Publisher Rule) say WHY it's not what they're looking for.

        I know how to put a novel together, had my share of accolades, so can only think it's the style and/or the setting and/or the subject. And the Time. Most of it is in the late 1950s, although goes on into the mid 1980s, and finished "Today". So, a touch of sour grapes on my part, always is, but they only last about an hour.

        So I checked the makeup of the publisher, realised it's two local 25-28 year old women, and fair enough, my novel is not the sort of thing that market wants. That's when I knew that I don't actually have a market. Most publishers want (in my opinion) stuff like you see pumped out endlessly on Netflix. Popular stuff. Modern stuff. Zippy zappy stuff.

        I got about a third way into best selling "Boy Swallows Universe", too much gratuitous violence and drug and shit, so chucked it over the side, thinking - "Geez, he's written this with Netflix in mind", and sure enough, it's now a 7 part mini series on Netflix. But it was given to me with rave recommendations by two women, one middleaged and one mid-20s. So, my Ghost is out of date.

        But the sole purpose of writing is to be read. Writing is not like building a dragster or making a doll's house, both of which instantly fulfill their objective - do the quarter in 7.2 or make a grand-daughter happy. But writing has to be read. Otherwise it has no point. And the more readers the better.  Hopefully with positive reviews. Hence mass publication and marketing.

        Now being seriously ancient, I have to adjust to my reality, that IF I go on writing (and I surely will as I don't know how to stop and dear God I do so love doing it), I have to accept what small ways of putting it out there I have at my disposal.

        Ah, I feel better already. Yeah, right!

        That's all, thanks for indulging me, I needed to rant on a bit.

            Cheers.....

                    Trev

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Short stories over time [ 4 ]

         This is turning out to be quite an insight into the evolution of Aust short storytelling, but surely the editor had more stuff to choose from in the pre-1970 years? Could she only find 28 of merit in the first six decades? Or was she looking for specific styles to emphasise the changes? But couldn't find them? Hard to say, and you'll have to make up your own mind on this. It's a fairly lumpy publication, but worth tracking down a copy if the short format is your preference.

1950 to 1959

        There's on 3 in this group, one of which was so twinky-twee it could've been written by a love-struck 12 year old, one trying to nail "clever" subject matter, which was a bit boring, but the third was pretty good, about a son looking back on his Jewish refugee family - especially his mother and her reactions - who arrived here in the post war immigration boom.

        I start to wonder if the lack of publishing outlets had something to do with all this. In the 50's the main ones were the two high circulation women's magazines (who, as I remember them, went for bland and popular and housewifey) because the old stalwart of the 20s and 30s, The Bulletin, was on the decline, and a clutch of others which were a bit "literary", and self-consciously so (looking back from today). So maybe there just wasn't the incentives.

1960 to 1969

        There are 5 in this decade, only one of which (being about a rather stuffy woman's reaction to a piece of Buddhist art) drew me in, which is the best gauge of how you feel about a story, and the rest already forgotten.

        Looking forward to the 1970s and a bit of "internalising" and experimentation and angst and all that wonderful stuff (ah, I remember it well!)

            Cheers....

                    Trev

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Short stories over time [ 3 ]

        Back to this very rewarding exercise.....

1940 to 1949

        Again, not sure if it was the criteria the editor used in her selections, but suddenly the whole tone and style changes in this decade, like they all jumped forward into another Age. There's seven stories in this group, and six of them are absolutely great, each make me want to dig up some more of the writer's work.

        A word on the lesser one before I rabbit on - it was well written and thoughtful and all that, but it just didn't move me. It surprised me though, as it was a "gay" story, a woman musing very longingly about another woman, but it wasn't that per se, it was the fact that it was published in Australia in the 1940s when we were all still a pretty conservative lot.

        The others six? - they have a fresh zippy style that would not look any way out of place today, and over a range of subjects and settings - a married woman having an affair - an aboriginal story (my fav) - the interaction between a couple of kids - tough labouring working men dealing with life on the wharves - an Italian POW sorting out a bone lazy small-block farmer - and a tongue-in-cheek study of 3 mates stirring each other up in the pub. Loved them all.

        An extract from the workingman one, a young bloke's description of his much older mate, such a refreshing change from the "old" overwritten literary styles that were fashionable before this -

            "... a hard doer and a bit of a Pagan, that's all. Three convictions, one for stealing firewood during the Depression, one for punching a policeman during the '28 strike, and one for travelling on an expired railway ticket - also during the Depression. Across one cheek the scar of a wound received at Gallipoli. A limp in his right leg from an old waterfront accident. Screwy arms and shoulders from too much freezer work in the days when every possible job had to be stood up for...."

    - and the old bloke is right there, on the page. Love it. Looking forward to the 1950s.

            Cheers.....

                    T.R.E.

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