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Archive for the ‘me’ Category

Forgot to post this last week when my column was published. Am just a little bit overwhelmed at the moment by gosh, everything.. work, life, children, self. But anyway, here are my thoughts on facade and identity and Baden-Clay.

His identity, so incongruent with reality, must have felt heavier by the day and as the Judge said, ultimately built up a kind of explosive pressure in him. Why is it so difficult to confront yourself and your decisions, not to necessarily change them, but to even live authentically with them?

Maybe because identity becomes a kind of suffering and the suffering is hard to let go. You choose suffering because it is at least familiar, even though you are forgoing the possibility of relief. But to sit with this suffering requires an ever increasing level of cognitive dissonance.

And from the very moment you lie to yourself, you know this moment of self-sabotage has an unavoidable conclusion. What’s worse is that you may not even be able to guarantee that you’ll “never do it again”. It takes so much more than awareness to change.

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The two kids and I just had a holiday in Melbourne staying with my brother and his partner in their lovely Melbourne warehouse apartment.

Hide and seek – Cormac looking for his sister. Yes, it is rather a huge apartment isn’t it?

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Not in the garden.

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Searching up the ladder to the third floor.

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I spy me.

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Board game to celebrate finding his sister.

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I was very flattered to be interviewed by The Wheeler Centre about writing and among other things I talked about the importance of Kiese Laymon’s essays and also, Rachel Cusk’s memoirs to me.

What’s the book that’s had the most significant impact on your life or work – and why?

Rachel Cusk’s two memoirs, A Life’s Work and Aftermath, were breakthroughs for me with my writing. I was a new parent and she was the first writer I found interested in connecting her personal experiences of motherhood to the broader discussion of feminism and writing. Plus, Cusk has been prepared to go as dark as required with that pursuit. I didn’t find her books all that confronting, to be honest, but some readers did and it’s always very interesting when terribly human moments disturb people to that degree.

The other thing Cusk showed me is that you do not always have to start your conversation with readers at the beginning. Some pieces are written for beginner-level understanding – they’re extremely important − but it is perfectly acceptable to pitch other essays only to readers who are progressed on the issue. It is nice to see what your article provokes with them and to learn from their part in the conversation. (Although reading the comments on those articles where you didn’t start from the beginning and bring everyone with you might be a brutal experience).

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Oh you know I do love to talk about the insidious rise of individualism and how it comes at the expense of collectivist action.  This is my latest article for Daily Life.

But now viewed through the lens of individualism the sexist, too, can have a deeply personal story. He made a mistake, he broke a rule, he’s sorry if what he did offended you. He’s actually a kind of victim here, too, he wants you to know. Accusations of sexism, you see, are graded on the steepest of curves so virtually no-one, except the least sympathetic of villains, qualifies as an actual sexist. All other instances of sexism, watered down by individualism, are thus eventually transformed into reasonable actions and understandable views and your inability as a woman to overcome them is simply a character flaw of yours.

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From here. Thanks to Leena for the link.

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I met up with Cristy (two peas no pod, Larvatus Prodeo etc) and her children last weekend at the beach.  We worked out we’ve been following one another’s blogging and writing for over eight years now .. and we’ve finally met in person.

Of course we got along like a house on fire. Our kids did too.

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.. to enjoy more difficult art again. Ben Marcus with “Why experimental fiction threatens to destroy publishing, Jonathan Franzen, and life as we know it”.

What interests me about this kind of writing is its desire to discover meaning where we might not think to find it, as if it’s burning entirely new synaptical pathways, and this is a very different pleasure than the kind I might get from narrative realism. It’s a poetic aim that believes in the possibilities of language to create ghostly frames of sense, or to prove to me that rational sense might be equally unstable, and I can get a literally visceral thrill when I read it, because I happen to actually enjoy language.

Although Stein’s individual sentences do not require excessive deciphering, the connections she attempts between them are far more challenging, mysterious, and wide-ranging than the transitions Franzen uses in his narrative realist mode, which generally builds linearly on what has gone before, subscribes to cinematic verisimilitude, and, when it’s not narrating, slaps mortar onto an already stable fictional world. I find a terrific amount of complexity to be possible in Franzen’s approach, and it frequently comes in the form of characterization. Characters are built to be intense webs of plausible contradiction, and their often conflicting desires, which can be emotionally self-destructive, war within them to produce dramatic tension. When it’s done well, this can be immensely satisfying to read. But the notion that this is the premier paradigm for art made with language is like suggesting that painting should have ceased after Impressionism.

As much as I enjoy Stein’s more slippery work, I understand why Tender Buttons is not popular, but that doesn’t discredit it artistically, nor does it make me believe that Stein wrote to create a cloud of difficulty that would intimidate readers into thinking her work was important.

This is why I made that resolution.

(My resolution this year is to live on a budget. From big thoughts little thoughts grew).

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