The Library-Fighters

I have clear memories of all the libraries in my life -- from the soaring glass walls of the Ela Beach library in Port Moresby, to the cupboard sized room (perhaps it actually was a storeroom?) at Tarangau Primary in Mt Hagen, where the headmistress growled at me for borrowing books that were "too old" for me, to the blissful hours I spent on library duty, stamping and sorting, in the cavernous library at my secondary school. There has never been a time of my life when I didn't belong to at least one library. Even when I spent six months in Scotland, I made a beeline for the Stockbridge Library in Edinburgh, curled up in the democratic warmth, and wrote a suite of short stories.

Our school's library has been a little bit neglected lately (note: the picture above is not our library. It is a random library I lifted off Google.) Our library used to live in a gorgeous purpose-built space with a mezzanine, but the year Alice started, that space was turned into the Prep Unit and the library was shunted upstairs into a disused classroom.

Staff shortages (and other priorities) meant that over the last few years we've had a part-time librarian at best, or at worst, only parent volunteers and classroom teachers to keep the library going. At least ours is still open. One nearby school has closed its library altogether; at another, the children can access the library only once a fortnight (attendance optional), and only if a parent is available to process the borrowing.

We're lucky. We're getting one of those snazzy new economic-stimulus buildings, four classrooms with a space in the middle which is designated a "library." Woo-hoo! A group of book-loving parents are starting to organise ourselves to make sure this opportunity to revitalise our precious library doesn't slip away.

Our first job is to do a stocktake. I fear it might not take long. A lot of books have been culled in the last few years, sold off at fetes and fundraisers. The problem is that everyone has their own idea about what makes a book cull-worthy.

Mum #1: Oh, those revolting old books. So tatty!

Mum/Booklover: Oh those wonderful classics -- they're old but they can be re-covered. They might even be valuable!

Teacher #1: (rolls eyes) Please, get rid of all those terrible old-fashioned books full of mums bringing slippers to dad and cooking his dinner! So un-PC!

Mum #2: Some of those books have guns in them, we'd better throw those out.

Dad #1: All those out-of-date non-fiction books must go. Look at this "computer" book, it's a disgrace!

Dad #2: We need books that relate to the curriculum. If it's not relevant, it can go.

At this rate, we'll have no books left! And that wouldn't really matter, if we had a bottomless pot of money with which to buy gorgeous new shiny books to fill the shelves, but of course we don't. And even a nice fat wad of cash doesn't buy you very many books, sadly. Not to mention comfy chairs or beanbags, or a new computer cataloguing system, or nice new shelves on castors, or some audio-books, or DVDs, or (wildest dreams) a full-time teacher-librarian, or any of the other things we'd like.

But because we all love books, we all remember the libraries of our own childhoods, and we all believe that the library is too important to neglect any longer, WE WILL FIND A WAY!!

We will find a way.

The Name-Go-Round

I am slightly obsessed with names, particularly fashions in names, what's hot, what's not. This stems partly from having to choose baby names myself and also with choosing suitable names for characters. Nothing is more jarring to me than reading a contemporary book where the characters all have names that were highly fashionable in the 70s or 80s but have since fallen from favour (like Caroline and Jennifer). My current WIP, set in 1974, features Julie and Nadine, daughters of Barbara and Allan. I obsessively check the birth notices every week to see what's in and out.

I'm fascinated by the cycles that names seem to churn through. At the moment we are living through a revival of the kinds of names that were last hot at the turn of last century. One of my friends pointed out a few years ago, "Our daughters are all named after Edwardian housemaids!" -- Alice, Thea, Lucy, Evie, and Nelly (since then Freya has arrived to break the trend). All the little girls at school are called May and Amelia and Esther and Grace and Sophie. The little boys could be a roll call of WWI soldiers -- Jacks and Wills and Harrys and Stans and Henrys and Alberts.

Of course this matter becomes especially pertinent when there is a BABY on the way (not in our family, but one of our dearests!) and the name debate becomes positively fevered. We named both our girls in utero (perhaps rashly) but it wasn't until I attached a name to my unborn child that I could regard her as a real person. Before Evie was born, we often spoke of her by name to Alice -- when Evie comes, we'll do this or that -- which I think helped Alice accept her arrival quite happily; she was a proper member of the family long before she popped out.

But I digress. Penni and I were talking names this weekend and remarking on the fact that names from our grandparents' generation are back in style. Which leads me to ask: what were your grandparents' names? Are there any neglected gems lurking out there?

(For the record, mine were Matthew Irving and Doris Alice on one side, and Frederick Charles and Pamela on the other. If we'd had a boy, he would have been Charlie.)

Humpty Dumpty Eats Bananas

This is what my girl and her friend made at school!

What Makes You Cry?

A wonderful post over at the Guardian book blog about children's books that "still make you cry." Personally I don't think I've cried at a book that wasn't a children's book for a long time. Also, I cry more now that I ever used to when I was an actual child.

The one that is guaranteed to set me off is the last scene in The Railway Children (cited by many Guardian readers) where Bobby sees her father, returned at last, on the train platform, and cries out, 'Daddy! My Daddy!' (Oh, God, I'm crying just typing this...) The film version makes me weep just as hard, if not harder.

I was also surprised, a few years ago, to find myself sobbing at the death of Matthew in Anne of Green Gables, a scene which I'm sure I read quite dry-eyed, dozens of times, as a yoof.

I must admit that the deaths of animals, which moved many Guardian readers, have never really troubled me, but then I am not really an animal person. Though I was amazed when Ginger died in Black Beauty. I think that was the first death I'd encountered in literature, and I couldn't quite believe it could really be true.

Most recently I found myself tearing up at David Almond's perfect Skellig. Though maybe they were partly tears of sorrow that I myself will never write anything so wonderful.

The Book Files

I have a little black book beside my bed.

It is a diary (an X Files diary actually -- ahem!), but there's no salacious reading in there. It's a record of every book I've read since 1996.

I've always had a habit of jotting down the titles of books I've finished. I used to keep a list at the back of my real diary, the one filled with angsty moanings about the unfairness of life, but I let that journal dry up years ago. Instead I have my X Files list.

Here's a random day's worth and what it tells me:

3rd May
Time In History: GJ Whitrow (98) Picked this up from the Readings bargain table. Not as interesting as it looked. This was obviously pre-children when I had more patience for dull books.
The Red Queen: Matt Ridley (99) A science book, something about sex and evolution? I used to read a lot of pop science, before my brains got scrambled by child-rearing. Don't know if I could struggle through this now.
The Veiled One: Ruth Rendell (01) When I was pregnant with Alice I read nothing but murder mysteries. Hm, that could explain a lot about Alice actually...!
Venus In Copper: Lindsay Davis (02) Another murder mystery, but set in ancient Rome. Alice was a baby. These were light but diverting reads.
Elsewhere: Gabrielle Zevin (07) Rosalind Price from Allen & Unwin lent me this when I was struggling with Cicada Summer. It didn't really help much but it was... interesting.

So in a way, my book diary does function like a real diary. I can remember what was happening in my life, where I was when I read a particular book, and why I picked it up. I go through phases -- mysteries, favourites from my childhood (in one difficult month I re-read all of Arthur Ransome), research for books I want to write (most recently, lots of books about New Guinea), books about the supernatural. There are books I read for my old book group, and books I've read for the new one.

There are weird pieces of synchronicity. I finished Kate Grenville's Searching For The Secret River three years (less one day!) after The Secret River itself. I seem to read more children's books in winter. I read less in September. There are days overflowing with books, and days that are completely empty, year after year.

But alas, the X Files are almost full. Too many days are crammed. So much in my life has changed since the day I bought it at the newsagents in Clifton Hill. In 1996, I was living in a Collingwood share-house, young and single, optimistically sending off short stories to Meanjin and Island. In 2010, four houses later, I'm in Preston, middle-aged and married, with two school-aged children and eight books to my name. I need a new little black book, for all the reading experiences the next fifteen years will bring.

Does anyone else keep a list of their books? Or is it just the Virgo in me?

The Library Book Sale Haul

New Guinea, James L. Anderson & Donald Hogg
A big glossy photo book from 1969, which is exactly the right era to help me with my PNG WIP.

Frontier, Henry Reynolds
One of the first so-called "black armband" (ie truthful) accounts of white violence in Australian history.

The Virgin Suicides, Jeffrey Eugenides
Never read it. Haven't seen the film either. I suspect I might find it a bit, well, stupid. But it's a very pretty edition.

The Binna Binna Man, Meme McDonald & Boori Monty Pryor
I just finished Njuljul The Sun; this is the second book in the series about the same indigenous boy.

White Time, Margo Lanagan
My introduction to the extraordinary world of Margo Lanagan, and the first book anyone at Allen & Unwin ever lent me. Coming from the record industry, where visitors routinely helped themselves to armfuls of CDs, I was somewhat dismayed that it was only a loan. But I get to keep this copy.

Keeper, Mal Peet
After this Onion's recommendation, I couldn't walk past this one.

Bachelor Kisses, Nick Earl
Never read this either. Think it looks sweet and funny. Also I love The Go-Betweens.

The House That Was Eureka, Nadia Wheatley
Man, this is one fat book. But it's Oz history. And this is the updated version. And it features a girl called Evie.

Leviathan, John Birmingham
Did someone say FAT? This is a door-stopper, John Birmingham's history of Sydney, which I've been searching the shelves for ages just to borrow. So when I saw it on the sale table I shrieked aloud (much to the distress of the nice elderly gentleman examining poetry books to my left).

I think we can see that my Australian history re-education phase is far from over. In fact I realise now that, unusually, almost all these books are Australian.

Alice came with me this time and picked up her own haul. A Famous Five book, the third volume of the Wind on Fire trilogy by William Nicholson, a very handsome red-and-gold Reader's Digest volume which she chose for its aesthetic appeal (I persuaded her to put back the two Danielle Steeles she picked up for similar reasons), book about creatures of the night (owls, not vampires), and a rather dubious looking graphic novel which appears to include a disturbing number of near-naked ladies (or perhaps it's the same near-naked lady, it's hard to say.)

On the way back to the car, the moor hens from Edwardes Park Lake moved toward us with sinister intent. Alice scared them away by barking like a dog. We thought they wanted to peck our feet, but perhaps they were just after our books.

Calling To The Void (and an echo returns)

Writing can be a lonely job. You work at your book, fretting and fiddling, and you launch it out into the world, and it flies away.

Silence.

Is anybody reading it? What do they think? Is anybody out there? Hello?

I know I'm not the only author who googles her own name for some faint hint that someone, somewhere out there in the wild, has reached up and caught my book in their hand.

The very nicest part of being an author is when a reader takes the time and trouble to actually write and tell you that they've enjoyed your books. ("loved," "adored," "LOVED IT!!!!" "my favourite book EVER!!!" is, naturally, even better.) But then you also stumble across weird little acts of appreciation like this...

...which led me to a lovely You Tube book review of the Chanters of Tremaris trilogy, by Kate (no relation). I smiled wryly when she says that no-one she knows has ever read these books. She speculates that they may be really huge in Australia (sigh!).

But the best part was when she says that she liked the hero, Darrow, because he "acts like a MAN." No one has ever said that before. Kate likes it that Darrow doesn't sparkle. He's not sensitive. He can be difficult, and moody, and uncommunicative, even though he clearly cares. Because, let's face it, men can be hard work sometimes.

But they're worth it.

Changing Spaces

We're building (or rather, paying other people to build for us) a big new living/dining room at the back of our Californian bungalow. As extensions go, it could hardly be simpler - it's just an box of an addition, no demolition, no plumbing. So for the last few weeks, we've enjoyed a succession of new spaces.

At first it was a dance floor outside our back door, a stage, a platform for performances.

Then, when the frame went up, it became a patio, open to the sky, where we could sit in the sun and read and drink beer, paint pictures and set damp towels out to dry in the fresh air.

As the walls closed it in and the roof was laid, it became a magical cave, where we could peer out at the garden through the gaps where the windows would be.

And today, as the last of the big windows was manoeuvred into its frame, it's become almost a real room. We can see where the TV will hang, where the couch will go. We can stand in the nook where the window seat will be and gaze out at the riot of bouganvillea just beyond the glass, and imagine the days when we can curl up with cushions and a book. We realise that there will space for a sideboard along that wall after all.

Living with the new space as it grows every day, we're getting to know it gradually, learning how the light falls, discovering new views. It's only one room, but it will change the way we use the rest of the house, too. The present cramped living-room will become a quiet, darkened study and library, a room for adults to retreat to and children to hide away. The kitchen will open out. We'll have room to build railways and cubbies, a long bench for jigsaws and model castles, storage for games and blankets, and a table where we can eat and be warm and see the TV all at once (yeah, okay, we're bogans, get over it).

It's not a new house. It's better than that.

Whoops

Just one more player to mention - I can't believe I forgot Jarrod Harbrow! Sorry Jarrod.

40. Jarrod Harbrow
Geez he's good. He played up forward until last year, when they tried him up the back as an emergency and he took to it like a duck to water. He is stunning - quick and creative. See that blur in the backline? That's Harbrow.

Sadly that blur may disappear over the horizon as the new Gold Coast team are very keen to snaffle him next year, and he has family up there so he's quite likely to be tempted. Enjoy him while it lasts.

How To Tell The Bulldogs Apart, Part The Last

The final installment of our (very) rough guide to the Western Bulldogs. Today, players 36-44.

36. Brian LakeSo laid-back he can seem catatonic. A top-notch defender who had us all on tenterhooks last year when he took forever to re-sign his contract and we were scared he was going to go elsewhere. Seldom smiles. Even on his wedding day he looked bemused rather than happy. Every so often Bri-bri makes a mistake so spectacularly stupid it puts even Wilbur in the shade. Not often though. Rodney Eade loves to yell at Brian; they have some weird love/hate thing going on.

38. Dale Morris
The other pillar of the backline. Known as "The General," his organising ability was sorely missed when he was out with the flu in Round 1. Played with a broken leg for six weeks last year. How tough is he??

42. Liam Picken
The fairy-tale success story of last season, the overlooked son of a Collingwood star was picked up as a rookie by the Bulldogs and instantly cemented his place in the side as a hard tagging midfielder who could shut down opposition players for a whole game. Very useful.

44. Brodie Moles
Looks as if he might become this year's Liam Picken. Picked up from Geelong where he couldn't manage to break into a strong side, he seems to be fitting in nicely with the Bulldogs. From Cat to Dog? Stranger things have happened.

And last but not least -- the coach!

Rodney Eade has coached the Doggies since the end of 2004 and has turned the team from bottom-scraping stragglers to a proud and (more) confident squad. "Rocket" doesn't hold back his emotions and is always a treat to watch in the coaches' box, especially when things are going badly. But he's refreshingly upfront with his opinions, tells it like it is, is often funny, and is a supremely clever football tactician (even a genius) who has shaped the way the game is played. We love Rocket. But we're glad he's not around to give us one of his famous sprays when we stuff up.

So there you have it -- the individual parts that add up to the whole team that is the Western Bulldogs. One of the things I find fascinating about football is the way that players and coaches come and go, but clubs somehow retain their own over-arching personality. Do players learn how to be a Bomber or a Blue, or is the personality of the club composed of the sum of the individuals who reside beneath its roof? I'm inclined to think it's the former.

So if the Western Bulldogs was a person, what would they be like? I see him (yeah, it's a bloke, get over it) as the shy, self-deprecating guy in the corner of the pub, perhaps a tradie, from the rough end of town, very good at what he does but wary of big-noting himself. He's used to being put down by the flashy blokes with more cash, and the boofhead blokes with more muscle and swagger, and he's learned to keep quiet and keep his head down. He might be clumsy, he might say the wrong word at the wrong time, but he means well. If he lets you down, it's because he's trying too hard. He's had a hard life, he's known disappointment and betrayal, and he doesn't trust easily.

But maybe, just maybe, this is his year to find some cash in his pocket. Maybe, come September, he'll be shouting us all a beer.

How To Tell The Bulldogs Apart, Part 5

I'm going to focus on the senior players now and knock this thing over.

21. Jason AkermanisCome on, even you must have heard of Aker! Everybody knows Aker. Limelight-seeking, goateed player who has signed on for one last year with a massive pay cut, because he knows the Doggies are this close. Always controversial, refreshingly honest and a very smart footballer who can pull a goal out of thin air. Used to play for Brisbane, where he'd perform a handstand at every victory. The Dogs have put a stop to that, but we still love him. Guaranteed media career after retirement.

22. Dylan Addison
Other players love DFA because he's so hard at the ball. Fearless, even when he's not skilful. Known as Dylan ****ing Addison because when Johnno presented him with his jumper before his first game, he gave an expletive-riddled speech of encouragement to the new player ("You've earned this ****ing jumper, Dylan ****ing Addison!") not realising he was live on national television. Ha ha ha.

25. Ryan Hargrave
Michael's favourite player. Known as Shaggy. As in Scooby Doo. Occasionally very, very good goal-stopper, but again, inconsistent (think I might be onto something here...)

27. Will Minson
Ah, Big Will. I could write a whole blog post about Big Will and still not fully explore the paradox that is, according to his coach, the "dumbest smart man in football." As someone else pointed out, most footballers are clever on the football field and stupid off it. With Big Will, it's the other way around. He speaks German, plays the saxophone and possesses an eclectic fashion sense; not only does he have chiselled cheekbones and sculptured pecs, he can speak in whole sentences. And yet at least once a game he does something totally dumb, like walk across the mark and give away a free kick. But he is turning into an excellent ruckman.

28. Barry HallYou must have heard of BAZZA!! At least if you live in Melbourne, you must have. Big Bad Bustling Barry Hall became a Bulldog this year in a blaze of publicity, after being sacked from Sydney for thuggish behaviour on the field (ie he couldn't seem to stop punching people). Will the Bulldogs be his salvation? Will he be the salvation of the Bulldogs? The signs are promising so far. He is the big marking forward that the Bulldogs have conspicuously lacked in the last few years. And Barry looks happy, getting much more of the ball from the free-flowing Dogs than he was allowed to enjoy with the defensive, stop-start style of the Swans. A match made in heaven? Let's hope so. Everyone says he's a lovely guy. But gee, he looks scary. I'm glad he's on our side.

How To Tell The Bulldogs Apart, Part 4

Players 16-20

16. Ryan Griffen
Another player who is due (overdue?) to reach his great potential. Looks cross-eyed to me, surely that can't help. Mid-fielder.

17. Adam Cooney
Ginger mid-fielder. Has new tattoo all over his lower leg. Unexpectedly won the Brownlow Medal in 2008. Certainly he wasn't expecting it, and his acceptance speech was quite entertaining as a result. Famously proposed to his girlfriend with a Burger Ring. This guy is all class. Bulldog fans love to yell Cooooooon when he gets his hands on the ball, which the uninitiated can confuse with booing.

18. Brennan Stack
Only played a handful of games. Don't need to worry about recognising him yet.

19. Liam Jones
Look at him! He's a baby! Hasn't played at all yet.

20. Josh Hill
Ah, Joshy, Joshy. I love Josh. He's quick and graceful and he has flair. He can very exciting to watch when he leaps up to take a mark or boots a goal that looked impossible. Okay, sometimes he looks as if he's not concentrating and he's a bit of a whippet -- definitely not a bullock -- more of a gazelle. I'm prepared to forgive his lapses because he has that indefinable something that you just can't train into players if they ain't got it. I'm sure that's a great weight off his mind.

How To Tell The Bulldogs Apart, Part 3

Players 11-15
(Lucky it's school holidays and I can bang this out instead of making lunches...)

11. Sam Reid
Baby burly midfielder. Was diagnosed with diabetes Type 1 last year and has become a diabetes ambassador. Brave boy.

12. Tom Williams
Tall goal-stopper. Very fragile! Handle with care! Has been the great white hope for about the last three years but keeps breaking himself so hasn't played much. Also tends to panic under pressure (hey, I would too, with all those big scary footballers coming at me).

13. Daniel GiansiracusaKnown as Gia, or to my sister-in-law, "Gira." Spunk of the club and he totally knows it. Always chosen to model the Bulldogs merchandise in the catalogue. Plays pretty well from time to time too. "Silky." Mmmm.

14. Callan Ward
Lovely boy with a shy smile. Grew up round the corner from the Whitten Oval and walked to training. Always wears one sock up and one sock down. A star in the making.

15. Ben HudsonHis beard has its own fan club. Big tall scary ruckman. Came late to football so has a sense of humour about the whole bizarre business. Gotta love the Beard!

How To Tell The Bulldogs Apart, Part 2

Players 6-10

6. Brad Johnson
Goal-kicker. Our captain. Already ancient, he may well play until he's 80. Known as the Smiling Assassin. Because he's always smiling. Except when he's swearing. Just played his 350th game.

7. Shaun Higgins
Goal-kicker. Possessed of a large head and walking with a swagger, Higgins will probably be our next captain. Club legend Scott West personally chose him to inherit his number, which is like being anointed by John the Baptist.

8. Mitch Hahn
Goal-kicker. Tough nut with a head like a Prussian bullet. Strong like a bullock.

9. Lindsay Gilbee
Goal-stopper. Supposedly the best kick in the league. Would be nice to see evidence of this more often. His dad died last year.

10. Nathan EagletonMid-fielder. Known, entirely predictably, as the Bald Eagle. Senior players took a pay cut so he could play for one more year.

More tomorrow!

How To Tell The Bulldogs Apart, Part 1

And so the heady euphoria of the pre-season gives way to the painful reality of Round 1: a 36 point thumping by Collingwood. Ouch.

Suddenly all those giddy hopes that 2010 will be The Year of the Dogs, the media hype, the seemingly miraculous resurrection of Barry Hall, have been punctured. Hangovers are never pleasant, and all the worse when they're self-induced. But at least there is comfort to be gleaned in the reflection that there are still 21 games to go. It's a long season; anything can happen... can't it?

In the un-Bulldog-like spirit of not giving up hope at the first hurdle, I hereby embark on the first of a series of player profiles. Warning: this series will contain no more than trace elements of actual football information. It is designed to share the stuff that I find interesting. It is perfectly possible that no one else will agree. It is also quite likely to be wildly inaccurate.

And so, in numerical order, players 1-5:

1. Jarrad Grant
Future goal-kicker. Young, tall and spindly. Has only played one senior game and kept getting knocked over. May be the first Vulcan to play AFL football.

2. Bob MurphyGoal-kicker. Not your average footballer. Writes a weekly column in The Age about the romance of football, among other stuff. Creative and clever on the football field as well as off it. Hurt his knee last year but was back to his twisty-turny best yesterday. My favourite Bulldog.

3. Andrejs Everitt
Goal-stopper. Young and rangy, hasn't played often. St Kilda tried to grab him in the pre-season draft so he must be good, right? Sulked last year because he wasn't playing often but seems to be trying harder. Used to have dreadlocks but perhaps realised that they weren't helping in his quest to be taken more seriously.

4. Daniel Cross and 5. Matthew Boyd
Sorry, I still have trouble telling these two apart. The busy Bobbsey Twins of the midfield, they both rack up heaps of possessions without being particularly noticeable. Boyd was picked in the All-Australian* team last year, one of only two Bullies selected.

* An odd and purely hypothetical concept as there isn't really anybody for them to play.