Saturday, November 19, 2011

The Lost Letters

The Lost Letters

Dear Reader,

I stumbled upon a most interesting website called “Letters of Note” that collates letters of some significance or “note”; mostly written by well known, historical figures – but also unknown people - who have corresponded something worth archiving (in the editorial eyes of the website), whatever it may be.

I really like it… Many of the letters do have great historical merit and are rare finds. Others are simply humorous. Some are very revealing and as primary documents, items of great worth for discovery purposes. Take for example the letter between Gandhi and Hitler shortly after the invasion of Poland in 1939. Ghandi’s letter is an appeal from a place of “friendship” to Hitler, for a merciful political approach. It never reached him due to a British intercept.

Then there's the letter between Beat poet and author, Jack Kerouac to the leading actor of the day, Marlon Brando, to write, produce and act a screen adaptation of his influential beat novel, “On The Road” and assume the character based on the life of Kerouac himself. This letter reveals much…

I actually discovered this website, while searching for materials on Kerouac and Brando. I thought that Brando probably would have played a Kerouac character role well - I felt both men were similar in some ways - so I was interested to know whether they had known each other. My search led me to the letter.

The fact that Brando didn't respond would tend to reveal something about himself also, of course… as someone wise once pointed out to me, not responding to such a communication is a response in itself.

Some of the letters are not so grand, but rather, about smaller, more trifling matters, that nonetheless are interesting. Being a tactile and personalised item, you can tell much from a letter… from the handwriting, the phrasing, the deliberation or casualness, the signatures, the type fonts and stationary used – it is all an expression of the individual.

The site has the original letters scanned with transcripts provided below and in most cases, some accompanying brief, explanatory notes. Although I have not perused comprehensively, here are a few favourites thus far:

The site reminded me of how much I like letters and the place I feel the letter still has, in society. Letters have undoubtedly become a lost art in the modern communication spectrum. Their usage, as I understand, continues to decline as vastly more convenient forms to achieve similar ends, take hold ever more. Many are prophesizing the death of postage as we know it. Hard postage is now a bastion of largely undesirable stuff - more commonly the reserve of formal commercial matters, annoying direct marketing campaigns, bills and other financial statements... Personal letters, I suspect, are increasingly becoming common only among the elderly for whom it has always been a way of life.

And yet, perhaps their importance or significance has never been greater. Perhaps in spite of the modern communication landscape (and because of it), it is heightened. For a letter seems, in my view, to have more gravity; it is capable of being far more formal and concentrating than an email - which in the maelstrom of the digital space, can evoke a passive response. It has personality for the reasons I have offered above. It remains a physical experience as well as an emotional and personal one and there is an opportunity to uniquely inscribe a gesture or thought in ways harder and in some cases, impossible, through other forms.

Their now rarity makes the experience of a personal letter a welcome novelty and change – and for this reason alone, people are probably more likely to pay attention to their contents.

This perceived significance is probably well founded, however, as given the lack of convenience involved in preparing, printing and posting a letter, writers are generally going to take more care in thinking about and crafting their contents and subsequently more time to their writing - more than may be applied when the process is instantaneous and a finger’s click away, as with email.

Of course historically, and especially among writers, letters have been considered an art form. Many books have been published of collected letters (I not so long ago purchased a big but good one of George Bernard Shaw’s) and many word men, particularly of the Romantic era, used use it as a modem to express their opinions and exert their style in a different format. Indeed the output of letters from some writers is incredibly prolific.

Several of the Romantic writers such as Byron and Wordsworth used it to critique each others work – frequently and sometimes heatedly – which I think had the effect, like most vibrant creative periods, of “lifting the bar” of the output in a kind of faux combative, collaborative way… when you read some of these you understand the importance they placed on letters and it is well documented that particularly among such writers, vast amounts of time used to go into writing them – sometimes hours or days, for even very short letters, of half a dozen lines or less.

As a valued human communication for centuries, I am sure letters still have an important place and a functional one. They are not only still very meaningful and valuable but probably quite practical and effective for a range of communication purposes, also. I love to receive them, when I do, on the odd occasion. I am going to make it my business to write many more (while a service still exists to deliver them).

Your friend,


NJC

Friday, August 12, 2011


A poem from my 2004 collection, "Visions and Voices".




ASHES




Ashes live in ancient caves, in oven graves and smoky waves.


Ashes are powdered night.


Finality.


Seared carbon blanks.


Ashes are the speechless survivors of destruction.



Ashes chaperone new life.


The fertilisers.


The sign of something new –


The bold yet modest seeds.


Ugly and beautiful at once,


Alive and dead.



Fertile sterility,


Striking,


Magnetic,


Moving and Sad.


Fragile fragments of infinity,


ashes are the curtains of creation.



“We are all made from the ashes of dead stars.”




Thursday, May 5, 2011

The Empire Strikes Back

I’ll admit it. For a largely disinterested cynic, I got sucked into the royal wedding like a sick pigeon into a jet engine...


Listening and speaking to others in the aftermath, I get the sense I was not alone in this anomaly...


I had not intended to watch it… When I nonchalantly glanced at the television in the office around 6.30pm last Friday evening, I scoffed when I saw a procession of socialites and their “hats” arriving; especially this “super-hero” number:



…Fast forward a few hours however, and as humiliating as it is to admit, I was still watching, channel surfing for more footage, in fact… there was something indisputably magnetic about the occasion. I think it was a combination of the magnitude of an altogether happy event in world affairs (a welcome change) – and also the spectacle of what is so impressive and significant about British history, culture, even “pomp”… (Kate and Pippa Middleton weren’t bad either).




Westminster Abbey…


As far as historical monuments go – the mighty, thousand year old Gothic Abbey – is just immense… particularly when you think about the ghosts running around it… The first Abbey was founded on the present site on the basis that a vision of Saint Peter was observed there. The fact that it has not only been the scene of coronations (on “King Edward’s Chair”) since William the Conqueror and houses the remains of many of the early Royal ancestors - not to mention some great figures of history - gives a haunting significance to the place… Many great writers and poets are buried here including Robert Browning, Rudyard Kipling, Geoffrey Chaucer, Lord Alfred Tennyson and Charles Dickens – even actor Laurence Olivier; many more artists including many of my favourite writers / poets are memorialised in the “Poet’s Corner”. It is the final resting place for so many figures of history – even scientists Isaac Newton and Charles Darwin are here…


On this day, the Abbey was full of life –right down to the avenue of English Field Maple trees lining the aisle… the rise and fall of the camera angles pitching and plunging around the columns, galleries and into the upper echelons of the extraordinary structure – captured a great sense of the mystique and the unique magnificence of the architecture, detail and materials of the building.


And then there was the music. The choral music really was spectacular and mesmerising … Without getting too carried away or effusive in admiration for British ceremony, I also confess to enjoying the clarity of the British diction and the eloquence and articulation of the language in the speeches delivered – but perhaps I have just been listening to Australian politicians too much...


The service itself was far more concise than I anticipated – and was kept relevant and meaningful. So while the nostalgia of the artefacts and imagery of a bygone era were there – the Abbey, the hundred year old horse drawn carriages, the beautiful British cars – and all the other “aesthetics”; I think the substance and modernity of a contemporary union of two young people was also there.


Part of me couldn’t help but think how great it would be if some of the bygone paraphernalia had not been usurped into historical novelty; I think it would be great to still ride a horse or a horse drawn carriage into work in the city, for instance…


Another highlight for me was watching the aircraft over Buckingham Palace, including a fly-by of the legendary Spitfire – it really was a walk down memory lane and so many of the different chapters of British history were referenced in different and quite moving ways.


Kate Middleton did look superb, of course.


The British can be proud of their history – they have an astonishing one that is coloured in so many shades, but frequently some of the negative aspects overshadow – this was a dynasty that made mistakes – some ugly, yet it has had a lasting, very positive influence, also.


I noted with interest that both before and after the wedding there was some amount of curiosity and respect shown by some the Aboriginal community towards this event also – which was surprising.


It reminded me of one of the more interesting conversations I have had in my life, which occurred in the Valley in Brisbane one night, with an 82 year old cultural leader of the Wagilak Aboriginal tribal community... In the course of our two to three hour discussion, I was welcomed into the tribe as an honorary member, given a tribal name that means “lightning” and invited to participate in a corroborree in Ngukurr in Arnhem Land.. But that’s a whole other story..


He and a contingent of his tribal group had just finished a performance at the Powerhouse Theatre in a show that combined indigenous dance and music with orchestral music… This very interesting fellow also wrote poems so we had some common ground there, but I found myself in a deep and meaningful discussion about a whole range of issues that included colonisation issues and the significance of the traditional Aboriginal culture and the cultural make-up of Australia.


One of the most unexpected of his disclosures was his statement that he was “glad the British, rather than someone else, settled Australia.” He made the comment that although the British and the Aborigines had a history and had some problems, if Australia was to be settled by anyone, he’s happy it was the British as he felt the two cultures were the best match and that there was some common ground and mutual admiration – although there had been a lot of misunderstanding too..


As I say, that did take me by suprise…


Although I now consider myself in favour of an Australian republic, I am not deeply impassioned about it, and I suspect I am probably a common example of the feeling around this issue. I think this latest Royal event , and those to come, will probably set the republican movement back in Australia. I think many may view a republic as a potentially expensive “structural change” that will be largely symbolic and not much more…


I think this was evidenced to a degree by last week’s episode of the ABC show, Q & A (www.abc.net.au/tv/qanda/ ) ; I am a fan and rarely miss it, but I have to say that last Thursday night’s episode on the question of whether Australia should become a republic, left me very bored – and neither the monarchists nor the republicans put forward particularly strong arguments, frequently went around in circles and didn’t seem that passionate themselves. Hence why I think the Aussie adage of if “it aint broke don’t fix it” will probably be adhered to in respect of this issue, for the foreseeable future… Nevertheless, I do remain in favour of a republic at some stage, provided the proposed model is right.


On a superficial level, there must be fairly consistent agreement that few do a celebration or pageant like the British. It made me feel a sense of significance for my own British ancestry, so I can only imagine how affirming the experience was for contemporary Britons, particularly in light of a tough few years. I think they should express what is great about their culture, moreso, in the modern age.


Despite protestations that the institution of the monarchy should transcend the personalities of the monarchs and be viewed independently of them; in practice, it doesn’t really. William and Kate are likeable people, have had much “real world” experience and come across as quite humble and down to earth communicators; after the weekend’s wedding, they have, perhaps quite inadvertently, injected a strong new energy into the family, that will probably give them great facility to do good work. This must be seen as a positive.


All told I think it was a celebration of positivity and growth for Britain’s past and future, and an uplifting ceremony… Now - I think I have, in the context of this blog, devoted more time than I ought to , espousing some of the finer attributes of the old country’s traditions and of the newly married royals – I may need to return to my goading and disparagement of them. It’s the Australian way.


Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Reflecting on Bin Laden’s Inglorious End while thinking of “The Castle in the Forest”



Osama Bin Laden met his end this 2 May 2011, some 66 years, almost to to the day, after the death of the 20th Century’s public enemy number one, the German dictator, Adolf Hitler.


I first came across bin Laden in a school lesson back in the mid to late nineties, well before the 2001 World Trade Centre attacks... It was in an article written under the heading of “The face of Evil” (or something similar). I went to a Catholic school and the lesson was in religious education; I forget the specific purpose of it, but it had something to do with good, evil and the choices and influences associated with both conditions… The article reported on Bin Laden’s then record as a terrorist, his ability to co-ordinate terrorist activities and the threat he posed to civilian society – as the world was then…


I remember the article vividly – it was one of those things that as an adolescent, lodges in your mind. It troubled me and I remember thinking at the time, why hasn’t someone “done something” about this person? Reading about his life, what he’d already perpetrated and what he openly said he wanted to do, I could not understand why he hadn’t been assassinated, or at least captured, already… It was the first time I had encountered a political figure (of a perverted variety) that was alive and genuinely frightening.


A few years later, the September 11 attacks occurred in New York. Living in Australia, I heard the news on my radio alarm in the early hours of the morning and thought it was a surreal dream. It was a “horrendous good morning” – I wrote quite a bit of prose around this time attempting to capture what was happening…





[A short prose piece I wrote around the time, One Way, Boston to LA (referencing the flight path of one of the hi-jacked planes) is included at the bottom of this blog – its scratchy writing as an amateur 18 year old trying to express an idea, but captures a bit of the confusion of the time through my more youthful eyes… ]


Like many, I spent the next couple of weeks glued to the television – searching for answers. I was at Uni at the time and barely attended for a week or two… When I did, the atmosphere was one of a subdued, saddened stupor – televisions were set up in libraries that attracted crowds and people carried themselves with a quiet, dignified bearing. Thankfully I didn’t know anyone directly injured or killed – but unquestionably, everyone was affected – much did change in the ensuing ten years; the world did change.


Thoughts naturally turn to vengeance and the identity of the culprits in such circumstances, and my mind immediately went back to my old R.E. lesson and the strange fellow with the dark eyes who stared back from beneath the word “Evil”. I implicitly sensed he would be involved in some way if not the chief “architect”.


Yesterday, after a man-hunt dating back to President Bill Clinton’s administration, U.S. Forces caught up with the chief enemy of their country. It was fitting that it was the Americans that ultimately apprehended and killed bin Laden – he has probably inflicted more pain and damage on their country – emotionally, diplomatically and economically - than any other single individual in their history.





So to that end, I can in part understand the celebratory, joyous reaction that erupted spontaneously in the U.S. ; Americans have been hurting for a long time and this was a massive breakthrough – a big pressure release – and a closure of sorts. Having said that, celebrating the killing of anyone so rapturously does risk being inflammatory. I think, while understandable, it does risk evoking the same kind of misunderstanding, contempt and rage that Westerners experienced when they witnessed the gun toting “party goers” after September 11…


Probably not since Adolf Hitler has there been a unified condemnation and pursuit of one single person. It is fascinating to explore how two figures like Hitler and bin Laden arrived at such a dismal destination, particularly in view of their backgrounds.


Bin Laden was born into great affluence, and was well educated, attending University and studying economics, business and, it is believed, civil engineering. He was apparently deeply interested in religion and wrote quite prolifically. For a time he was involved in the billion dollar family construction business in Saudi Arabia. Ironically his father and brother died in aircraft accidents – his father at the hands of an American pilot. He became drawn to extreme religious views and formed a vision for an archaic, expansionary political model across the Middle East and Africa, based on a seventh century model and Sharia law. His preferred way of prosecuting this was by way of jihad (violence and terrorism) against anyone who didn’t believe in his vision.


Hitler and bin Laden had this in common - aberrant, controlling, intolerant, expansive and aggressive ideals for political regimes that formed the basis of their actions. Both men were nihilistic and remorseless but cloaked their behaviour in anti-semitic and nationalistic / religious fervour to make it more “acceptable” and “attractive” to vulnerable or extremist, would-be supporters.




Hitler’s past is well documented, but in essence he was a failed landscape painter. Together with architecture, this was his life’s passion and aspiration; but, upon failing, through various twists of fate, he embraced fanatical political ideals, and, like bin Laden, through possessing the charisma to persuade others, he manipulated the populous and the German democratic system to ultimately establish an aggressive dictatorship for himself.


It would seem both shared something of a creative imagination – albeit distorted and ill applied – this too made them ever more persuasive and dangerous. Both saw combat in war which cannot be underestimated either in forging their militarist methods and perhaps corrupting their ideas and perceptions either…


And yet, there is so much that is inexplicable and incongruent about their rise.


While I subscribe to the concepts of “good” and “evil”, I also feel it provides a convenient dichotomy for many to characterise a person, like a Hitler or bin Laden, who is beyond characterisation. Viewing these people as “evil” is a way of explain the confusing manner in which human potential extends in both directions – to growth and destruction.


However, as some have remarked, the forces that shaped these two men must have been awesome...


Which brings me to the book I recently finished called “The Castle in the Forest” – the late American writer, Norman Mailer’s final book. Mailer, American born of Jewish descent and having fought in World War 2, had been, by his own admission, absorbed with Hitler his whole life and chose his ancestry and back story as a platform for what is ultimately a fictional, allegorical novel, rooted in some amount of historical fact.





In very simple terms, the book supposes that Satan is present at the conception of Hitler (who is born out of incest) and his subject devils (or demons), follow and use various, strange methods to interfere in the life of the family and influence Hitler whom they see as having “potential” – to set him on his course, as it were. It is only concerned with Hitler’s formative, childhood years and the story of his ancestors, parents and siblings.





It is narrated by the main demon tasked with this “assignment”, Dieter, who on occasion assumes the body of an SS officer. In one sense, it is a bit of an extension of the perspective taken by C.S. Lewis in his famous work, “the Screwtape Letters”.


It’s the first book I have read in a while that really got to me and was disturbing on some level that is hard to explain - that influences your perceptions. I really like and admire Mailer as a writer; like many of his “new journalism” contemporaries, his breadth of work is vast. He is also a very articulate and thought provoking interview subject. [You can see him being interviewed about the book on the Charlie Rose program here: http://www.charlierose.com/view/interview/22 ]


The book received critical acclaim and Mailer himself identified it as one of his major books, before dying the same year it was published (2007). Despite this, I was not blown away by the mastery of the writing, although it is very good, but rather of the previously mentioned, somewhat unsettling way that this book seeps into your subconscious thinking and contemplation – which is probably testament to what Mailer set out to achieve, and the true success of the book.


Even though it is not a fun nor easy read, it is actually blackly humorous in many parts and you get the strong sense from the more humiliating depictions of the young Hitler and his family, that the author is derisive and intentionally humbling (albeit not so mockingly as say, Director Quentin Tarantino in the film “Inglorious Basterds”) - of his chief subject… The “unseemly” and strange subject matter such as incest, frequent scatological references, brutality and unnerving concentration on the “senses” generally, especially smells and the olfactory sense, make the book heavy – but the premise that Mailer seems to be asserting is his strong belief in supernatural “forces” of good and evil – as a way of explaining how particular individuals may turn out.


I think any writer is successful and important when they can produce a book that at least gets you thinking and considering these higher ideas that form part of a complex array of existential, spiritual and human questions - especially in light of historical events like the rise and demise of bin Laden.


To use an old cliché, such writers can help us make sense of a world that is not always easy to understand.








ONE WAY, BOSTON TO L.A.
(2001)



I hear the sullen banter from beneath my bed sheets,


A dream…it fails to register.


Awake now, I hear again the horrendous good morning.


Stunned


Confused?


Yes, I am awake now.



Set free by an act of evil,


Anointed in devastation,


Swept to paradise on a torrent of sin,


The twisted paradox that is, life on earth.



The house is silent,


Silent, but for the soul piercing screams of distant victims,


Silent, but for the desperate scrambling for love, far away,


Silent…but for the long, drawn sobs of the mournful creator in his watchtower.



I am awake now and the paradox becomes apparent.


I am compelled to share in the moment.


To open the doors to the cold frost,


The debilitating spring.



Ungainly, fat rats dance and celebrate


To the music of gunfire.


Joyous and


Elated.


The paradox is sprawling…


“Crucify them!” I howl, then realise my mistake.



Humanity’s horror.


Our greatest challenge?


Our finest hour?

Monday, January 17, 2011

From the Floodplain


Taking respite in this blog after a very eventful seven days, to briefly ponder the unfamiliar experiences and transfixing images of flood in my home town of Brisbane.

Everything is still evolving and distilling, I suspect, for a large proportion of the people of Brisbane affected, directly or indirectly. One week after the first notice of flood came through, most are finally drawing back breath after what has been a “flash flood” in every sense: especially in the lightning intensity and speed of both the cruel impact and the rousing turnaround.

It’s still raw. People are fatigued and have been singularly focussed on the less than ideal present circumstances; postponing any deep thought and at times, feeling and emotion to a later date; to do all those practical things that need to be done in the moment – labouring, cleaning and making varied individual contributions to remedy the dislocation and hastily restore some degree of normal function.

It’s been an outstanding collective response to a shared challenge.

From time to time cities and States are tested. The big city based conflicts of the 20th Century immediately come to mind: Pearl Harbour, the Battles of Britain and Stalingrad and more recently, the September 11 attacks in New York, as profound examples.

Brisbane looks like a warzone in parts, and it has been the “war-like” response in terms of commitment to the task at hand, coupled with the altruism and compassion for one’s fellow brothers and sisters that that has been so heartening.

For it is not a Government or a Council or a system that gets tested in a freak catastrophe like this, so much as a people… Of course we look to our leaders in such times and to their credit, in this crisis, several have been impressive. But when the lights go out and danger is on your doorstep, what it boils down to is: how will the people rally?

This has been a defining moment in the life of this city and Brisbane is asserting its character and its standards for the future, like it did through the floods of 1974 and 1893 and in wartime, in superb fashion. What is compelling about this experience is that it has revealed in our community, an underlying care. A care for our city and for our fellow Brisbanites. While it is not always on show, or openly expressed, it is events such as these that confirm our inherent hope and confidence that this spirit exists and that we will rise, under fire.

We are a big city now which has presented new challenges. But it has become apparent that we have kept the best elements of the “big country town” ethos too – like the readiness to help your neighbour without needing to say anything; inviting strangers to live in your home and have a meal with you; the ability to go back to basics very quickly and even enjoy it.

Our resolve and gritty determination to clean ourselves up has been inspiring – the fighting qualities of Queenslanders have been on show. I’d like to think that despite the obstacles we have been able to keep a sense of humour amidst adversity also – which has been a powerful Australian quality throughout the generations...

Driving around the streets late yesterday I was moved by how amazing the collective effort has been to clean up homes in such short time. Yes the work will be ongoing for a lot longer, but we must take heart not only in how well we are repairing in a physical sense, but what we are, at the same time, building into our city, into our community and into the character of our people.

A week ago, early on Tuesday morning, I was on my way to work and got a call from my brother to say that the shed at Bulimba where the family keeps two boats was going to flood and that I needed to help him move them. It’s been pretty dynamic ever since.

My close family and I can consider ourselves very lucky, with narrow misses in Yeronga, Rosalie, Sth Brisbane and Fairfield – all areas that saw considerable damage. My Hope Street office missed flood waters by 2cm and would have surely been inundated had the levels reached those predicted.

Whilst it can be numbing to see the destruction wrought through Brisbane and the at times muted agony in the faces of those directly hit by the pungent, brown water, it is simply that – brown water - and the people have proved that. Brisbane has grown and will move forward, stronger, more awake and more connected to its environment than before.

As Churchill said in his famous “Blood, Toil, Tears and Sweat” Speech of 1940:

“We have before us an ordeal... We have before us many, many long months of struggle and of suffering… But I take up my task with buoyancy and hope. I feel sure that our cause will not be suffered to fail among men. At this time I feel entitled to claim the aid of all, and I say, "Come then, let us go forward together with our united strength."



  • Ready for Floodwaters.

  • Flood Provisions