Coetzee writes with precision and clarity but with precious little emotion. I felt no empathy with Michael K despite the ordeals he survives. He invites no synpathy because he subverts all who try to understand him and slips below the radar and away whenever he is imprisoned.
This is a cold but compelling read from the master story teller. Michael K's journey is for nothing and he surmounts numerous hurdles only to return to the place and life he left at the beginning. The meaning of Michael K's life slides away on all sides, and we are left to question the meaning of our own lives in the light of it.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Unless...
I've just reread Carol Shield's 'Unless', a meditation on the invisible gender. Is it a little out of date with our female prime minister and governor-general in Australia? Not quite. Gender seems to be the main marker of women like Julia Gillard who are in the public eye, rather than her credentials, character or politics. When these latter are discussed it is in comparison to how a male might have or has performed.
And in my professional and writing life I still feel the steely scepticism of males in my ability to do anything substantial or well - and half believe it myself. That is the dangerous corollary and the hardest to change. The discourse that disregards female concerns and preoccupations as less important, and occupations and discourses dominated by women as inferior.
And in my professional and writing life I still feel the steely scepticism of males in my ability to do anything substantial or well - and half believe it myself. That is the dangerous corollary and the hardest to change. The discourse that disregards female concerns and preoccupations as less important, and occupations and discourses dominated by women as inferior.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Coastal escape
Just back from a week on the coast, strolling along beaches, clambering up rocks and enjoying the empty expanse of the sea.
sea flings
waves across the sand
salsa dancers
eternal wash of waves
dog retrieving ball
again and again
winter sun
warms my wind-chilled cheek
your longed-for touch
wood-ducks
jostle for crumbs
lakeside cafe
sea heaves
waves upon the rocks
a mother’s sighs
Alice Springs sojourn
Many distractions from blogging - back again with a few haiku from Central Australia.
Rain had fallen and the desert was green and the gorges full of water. Miles of rocky ridges divided expanses of sand and stone.
red rock
dressed in green
desert dreaming
I met many interesting people, some just for a quick conversation.
shooting star
blazes across the outback sky
company for a night
Rain had fallen and the desert was green and the gorges full of water. Miles of rocky ridges divided expanses of sand and stone.
red rock
dressed in green
desert dreaming
I met many interesting people, some just for a quick conversation.
shooting star
blazes across the outback sky
company for a night
Sunday, April 18, 2010
3Lights
Very excited to find my String Quartet haiku in the spring edition of 3Lights! You will find it at the bottom of the blog on page 9. Read the whole journal and enjoy...
Friday, April 2, 2010
Self as a work of art
"From the idea that the self is not given to us, I think that there is only one practical consequence; we have to create ourselves as works of art." Michel Foucault
I suspect that this is what I have been doing in my journals. By putting words on paper I come to understand what I think and feel. Many times I have not understood something about myself or my situation until I have written it down. In some circular way I am creating myself in my writing.
Life Matters on ABC Radio National this morning explored journal and diary writing. A lot of people, many women, said they wrote diaries when they were teenagers but stopped once they matured. Others wrote diaries during difficult passages in their lives. Some women wrote a diary of a child's birth and early years as a gift for the child. Some, like me, have written journals all their lives and consider them as companions on the way.
The contents and form of my journals have changed over the years. As child and teenager my diary was the repository of daily events, teenage gossip, angst and hopes. Although vestiges of this remain, their present function is as a resource and tool for my creative writing. I doodle with words, opinions and ideas on those irresistible blank pages.
Daily I (re-)create myself as a work of art?
I suspect that this is what I have been doing in my journals. By putting words on paper I come to understand what I think and feel. Many times I have not understood something about myself or my situation until I have written it down. In some circular way I am creating myself in my writing.
Life Matters on ABC Radio National this morning explored journal and diary writing. A lot of people, many women, said they wrote diaries when they were teenagers but stopped once they matured. Others wrote diaries during difficult passages in their lives. Some women wrote a diary of a child's birth and early years as a gift for the child. Some, like me, have written journals all their lives and consider them as companions on the way.
The contents and form of my journals have changed over the years. As child and teenager my diary was the repository of daily events, teenage gossip, angst and hopes. Although vestiges of this remain, their present function is as a resource and tool for my creative writing. I doodle with words, opinions and ideas on those irresistible blank pages.
Daily I (re-)create myself as a work of art?
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