Libby Hart - Poet Series

Libby Hart’s most recent collection of poetry, 'This Floating World' was shortlisted for a Victorian Premier's Literary Award (CJ Dennis Prize for Poetry) and 'The Age' Book of the Year Awards (Dinny O'Hearn Poetry Prize).

When did you first start writing poetry?

I started writing poetry in my early twenties. Poetry hovered around me like a longing before I began writing it. At the time I was an avid reader of poetry and still am of course, any writer is an avid reader, but I suppose it was my own insecurities that blocked me from allowing myself to say: Yes, I could do that too.

In so many ways poetry is an apprenticeship that perhaps you never graduate from. I always enjoy quoting that story by Annie Dillard about French workers. When an apprentice gets hurt or is exhausted, the experienced workers say to him or her: It is the trade entering your body. Poetry enters the body every day. It enters you and you enter it. There is mystery and joy and heartbreak and exhaustion. Sometimes all at the same time.

What do you enjoy most about it?

I think enjoy is the wrong word for me. Poetry is sanctum – it’s where I live and breathe, and find shelter when it’s most needed. And this extends to all poetry, not just my own.

Poetry is a very organic thing for me. It is about capturing what enters your body, what touches you: a place, a moment, and a ‘matter of the heart’. Words walk through me very organically. I am touched by them and I have to capture them and make them into something more than a fragment or a line of poetry. So these are the two things that go side by side: the moment of connection or response to place, event or subject; and then the action to articulate. Sometimes these can be years apart.

Tell me about the first poem you had published.

The first poem I published was titled, ‘Rebecca’s Hands, 1923’. It was published in 1995 in the Australian Multicultural Book Review (Issue 2) and it was in response to a Paul Strand photograph of his wife’s hands. The composition was very tight and composed only of Rebecca’s hands, hence the title of the photograph and the poem. This is still one of my favourite photographs. I am a very visual person and I love black and white photography. I have a profound respect for the likes of Strand and other groundbreaking US photographers of that era, including Edward Weston, Dorothea Lange and Imogen Cunningham to name but a few. The poem discussed the photograph and branched out into such things as palmistry and fate.

What is your usual writing routine? Do you write every day?

If I have a routine as such it is largely about keeping focused. I have a full time job, so it is actually really hard finding the time to write and unfortunately I never do as much as I want to. But my routine goes beyond the physical act of writing. I do a great deal of thinking and feeling my way through a poem. This entails notes, fragments of lines, a lot of reading and research, and I am also always reading other people’s work which helps keep my mind open and fresh.

I do all of this each day and wherever possible I escape at lunch time to scribble away, edit drafts of poems or go to the library to search out a research title or poet or subject matter I have been thinking about. I try to do at least an hour or two of work in the evenings and wherever possible I dedicate at least one day of the weekend to writing.

What advice would you give a would-be poet?

I often say that I didn’t choose poetry, it chose me. I’m not really sure why it decided to tap me on the shoulder. There have been moments in my life when I really wish I knew the answer to that question, but each time I ask it I come up empty-handed. What I know is this: I write poetry because I don’t have a choice. I write poetry because it is sanctuary. I write poetry because it gives me a voice. I write poetry because it allows me to unravel a situation, an event or a subject and make sense of it. Poetry is mystical and mysterious, and I honour it as best as I can.

My advice is always to read, read, read. Read other poets. Learn from them. Read non-fiction and fiction. Learn from them too. Question. Observe the world around you. Live as authentically and as fully as you possibly can. Listen to music. Listen to what a song is telling you. Go to galleries and explore the visual. Watch films. Good films. Listen to the language that is going on underneath the conversations. Use all of your senses. And get very familiar with your gut instinct because this will be your long-time companion in writing poetry. Travel as much as you can. Go to places that make you uncomfortable and make you question. Live in the world and respond to it. Know your stuff, but also remember that it takes time to grasp it. And allow yourself to keep learning. The keep learning part is the most crucial. Be patient. Have an editor’s eye. Don’t be a smart arse. Always listen to constructive criticism. Remember that you learn something from every poem you write or read. Don’t ever think poetry is an ‘elite sport’, you are only competing with yourself. Be professional and reliable. And more than anything else: ‘know thyself’ and make sure you have something to say.

What’s your opinion of self publishing? Would you recommend it?

I haven’t really given a lot of thought to self publishing, so I can’t discuss this issue in any great detail. I think if a poet is intending to self publish then I would strongly advise them to get assistance from an editor, designer and possibly an artist or photographer. What makes a book a beautiful object is good design and excellent editing. The work is fundamental of course, but it takes skilled editing and design to really make your poetry the very best that it can be.

Do you perform your poetry? What are the differences between writing for the page and writing for the stage?

I write for the page and I read my poems, but I am in no way a performer. There is a great deal of difference between the page and the stage, if you are talking about performance poetry. I can’t really discuss this in any great detail because it’s another world to me and for the many performance poets I know they feel the same way about ‘page’ poetry. Sometimes I get a strong suspicion that there is a line firmly drawn between the two, as if we’ll all break out into a dance from West Side Story, but it really doesn’t have to be like that. After all, poetry is as widely diverse as the people writing it.

Have you been inspired or influenced by a particular poet’s work? How did it affect your own work?

I don’t think I could ever pinpoint just one poet or piece of poetry. There have been many, many instances in my life where a poet has shaped my perspective. But if I had to give one example today what springs to mind is when I first discovered Michael Hartnett in an unassuming anthology of Munster poets about a year before I visited Ireland for the first time.

The first poem by Michael Hartnett I ever read was ‘Death of an Irishwoman’ and anyone that is familiar with this poem will know what a powerful introduction that must have been. What I remember most about that first experience was that I read this poem with all of me being present. That’s the one thing that struck me most – that he made me sit up and take notice from the very first line. I also knew from that moment on that he was telling me something in a way no other person could – and how attractive is that for a person such as me who, like Ruth Stone, ‘decided very early on not to write like other people’.

Michael Hartnett was my introduction into what I would describe as an un-homogenised Ireland. And he spoke of it in his own way, with his own gripes and philosophies. He also introduced me to the bards and helped me reacquaint myself with my love of the Irish language, something that had lain dormant for about fifteen years. Michael Hartnett is spectacular because he is achingly real. He wrote it (and lived it) like it was, in all of his contradictory ways. He was at times uncompromising, but always heartbreaking and authentic. My favourite Michael Hartnett poem is ‘Sibelius in Silence’, it’s an extraordinary poem of great deft and vision.

If you had to choose a favourite contemporary poet who would it be and what makes them your favourite?

I can’t choose only one and my favourites list will inevitably change again and again, but for today I would say John Burnside and Carolyn Forché. I respect them both for writing uniquely and full of spirit and intelligence. Both poets tackle very different terrain, but they do loop up somewhere in the soul department, as they are both preoccupied with existence and what it means to ‘be’. John Burnside just keeps getting better and better, and I highly recommend his latest book, Black Cat Bone. I’m sure Carolyn Forché has another book just around the corner, but her 2003 volume, Blue Hour, was breathtaking to read for the first time and I pick it up again and again and again to help me clear away the clutter of my thoughts and anxieties about writing poetry. Her poem, ‘On Earth’ is one of my very favourite pieces of poetry.

What about the masters? Who would you choose and why?

I’m not crazy about the word, ‘masters’. It makes me think of Elizabeth Gilbert’s TED lecture and her discussion around genius and its Roman roots. Each comes from the same place and each is more complicated than a label. But who do I respect? Whose legacy is it that I return to again and again? I would say Ted Hughes, Homer, Ovid, Rilke, Shelley and Shakespeare. And there are others such as William Carlos Williams, Pablo Neruda, William Stafford, TS Eliot, Rimbaud and a whole heap of others including James Joyce and Chekhov (Chekhov may have never written a poem in his life, but he had a poet’s heart).

For the first six poets I am thinking it would be self explanatory, but Ted Hughes is pitch-perfect time and time again. His vision is mind blowing, really. We are forever in debt to Homer and Ovid. Rilke’s mysticism is his finest attribute. Shelley’s authenticity and wild intelligence was my way into writing poetry thanks to the wonderful Richard Holmes and his beautifully written biography, Shelley: The Pursuit. And Shakespeare... what could I possibly say about the man that has not already been said? Hamlet is my favourite of all of his work. I reread it recently and it still blew me away after all these years.

What, of your own work, is your favourite poem?

That’s a very hard question for me to answer because I am over critical when it comes to my writing. What I will say is that ‘This Floating World’ is the poem that means the most to me.

‘This Floating World’ is a very long piece (46 pages in book form). I had parts of the poem published in a variety of journals both in Australia and overseas, but the work as one whole poem was published in my second collection of poetry, This Floating World, published last year (2011) by Five Islands Press. The songline makes up the bulk of this collection although there are four ‘overture’ poems in the first section.

What was the inspiration for, or story behind, the piece?

‘This Floating World’ is a songline or oral map of the island of Ireland. The reader is guided through the songline by an omnipotent force who listens in on the intimate soliloquies of people, ghosts, birds and animals. Even the landscape and ocean have the opportunity to speak from time to time. The work is essentially a celebration of how, in some small way, we are connected to all things.

‘This Floating World’ was born from an extensive road trip I embarked on when I first visited Ireland in 2005. The journey of the songline is largely influenced by the route undertaken at that time. I was then fortunate to receive an international residency from the Australia Council for the Arts to spend time at The Tyrone Guthrie Centre at Annaghmakerrig in County Monaghan (Ireland) in 2008 in order to write the first draft of this book.

The work is faithful to the elements and the ethereal. Water holds a strong presence in Ireland, whether it is through rain, mist, bogs, loughs, waterfalls, holy wells, seas and ocean. Wind also, particularly in the west of Ireland, is a force to be reckoned with. Because of this I shaped a poetic narrative that is dictated by the direction of the wind or rain. Fluid and transient in nature, ‘This Floating World’ is full of rushed thoughts, forgotten histories and quiet contemplations that reiterate transience and mutability.

Obviously I can’t include the whole poem here for you today, but I will give you an abridged version of it in the form of one voice from the songline. This particular voice is called ‘Dreamer – Trá Chloichir’ and it is placed about three quarters of the way into the poem.

One thing I will stress about ‘This Floating World’ is that time is elastic inside the work itself. Both the present and the past intermingle with ease. So too do both this concrete world in which we live in and the Otherworld. And although I created an Otherworld that was eclectic and full of creative license, it was still faithful to the idea that there are two worlds connected to the island. This belief system is still prevalent in everyday Ireland, most particularly in remote areas, and I do admire this side of traditional Irish culture very much.

The voice, ‘Dreamer’, chiefly concerns the legend of the selkie-folk or seal people who transform themselves from seals to human. I have loved this legend for many, many years so I was very keen to include a selkie in the work.

Dreamer – Trá Chloichir

Dark one are you restless to this sea inside you?
To the chill that seeps into marrow
when you circle your secrets?

Altered and sooty-eyed
you haul a billowing scent
when you come to the surface.

A wave made flesh, made of bone.
Slip of sealskin, the chuck of it,
a seaweed of your own making.

You are naked now, you are glorious.
You are a man upon the land who needs time
to find his feet.

You take back your shadow
and gaze out to sea,
drinking in the memory of it

while the shrug of your wet skin
lies loosely in your arms.
The pelt of bog will keep it moist

fostering desire
until the pull of your second life
hooks you again.

You fold its enigma
with new found fingers,
heed it like a breathing creature.

You use your hands
like they’re the centre of things,
the cusp of things.

Are they indeed your soul, those hands?

Notes: ‘Dark one are you restless’ is from Thomas Kinsella’s translation of The Táin (Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1970). Reproduced with kind permission of the translator. ‘A man upon the land’ is from a traditional Irish poem (‘I am a man upon the land / I am a selkie in the sea’). ‘Are they indeed your soul, those hands’ is from, ‘Anatomy of a Cliché’ by Michael Hartnett from Selected and New Poems (The Gallery Press, Oldcastle, County Meath, 1994). Reproduced with kind permission of The Gallery Press.

This Floating World, Five Islands Press, 2011, Melbourne
To order: http://www.fiveislandspress.com

Fresh News from the Arctic, Interactive Press, 2006, Brisbane
To order: www.bookdepository.co.uk/book/9781876819347/Fresh-News-from-the-Arctic

Website: libbyhartfile.blogspot.com
Blog: theworldasaroom.blogspot.com
Five Poetry Journal (which I edit): fivepoetryjournal.tumblr.com

Janet Jackson - Poet Series

JANET JACKSON is a writer and editor and a poet of page, screen and microphone. Her poems have appeared in print and online media including Westerly, Mattoid, BLAST, The West Australian, nthposition (UK) and Hamilton Stone Review (US).

When did you first start writing poetry? What do you enjoy most about it?

I enjoyed writing poetry in primary school, but only got into it seriously during my honours year at uni. I used to write long letters to my mother; she said I had talent as a writer and should maybe do something with it. I bought a small notebook that would fit in my bag, and when I wrote, the words came out in short lines. If I'd been carrying a satchel instead of a handbag perhaps I would have become a novelist instead. But probably not.

I enjoy writing poetry because it's a very flexible, free artform - you can do anything - constrain yourself as little or as much as you like - and I like the way the patterns and sounds create the spirit, the feeling of the poem. I also enjoy the intellectual aspect of it - looking up the etymologies of words, learning the history of the language, learning about other people's poetry.

Tell me about the first poem you had published. What was it about?

In year 4 I wrote a poem called 'Machines' which the class performed, with actions, for the parents at an assembly. That's my first memory of a poem being shared with the world!

'A female poem' was published in 'Mattoid' in 1991. You can read it online at www.proximitypoetry.com/Writing/Poems/1991-1995/female.html

What is your usual writing routine? Do you write every day?

It depends what else is going on in my life and how I feel. Sometimes I write nothing for days or even weeks. At the moment an ideal day means writing and editing in the morning before I go near the Internet! But poems can strike at any moment. I write late at night, too. And on trains. And at readings. And during meals. When I teach workshops and classes I write along with the students.

What advice would you give a would-be poet?

Read as much poetry as you can. Find a writing group (online or face-to-face) or an editor or mentor who will give you honest feedback and help you improve your poems.

What’s your opinion of self publishing? Would you recommend it?

Yes! With books, in terms of distribution, if you're prepared to do the legwork, it's at least as good as publishing with a small press. With a lot of hard work you might actually break even. But only if you first learn the craft - it takes time and practice - and build up your audience by doing readings, networking, and publishing in magazines. People don't buy books, or e-books, by poets whose work they don't know.

If, for whatever reason, you want status in the Australian literary world, your self-published book needs to be reviewed in literary magazines or newspapers, and that's a hard thing to pull off.

Do you perform your poetry? What are the differences between writing for the page and writing for the stage?

Yes - I'm probably known more for performing than for publishing.

The main difference is that, in our culture, poems are read or recited only once - the audience never call out 'again! again!' - so there's no way to 'rewind' for a second or third hearing. So if you are writing only for performance, the audience needs to 'get it' in one go, which is limiting.

Have you been inspired or influenced by a particular poet’s work? How did it affect your own work?

Lately I've been reading classical Chinese poetry, such as the poems of Li Po. There's a sense of heightened awareness, not just of the world, but of the words themselves - almost every word has multiple connotations and layers of meaning, so that even a very short poem can have a lot of depth.

If you had to choose a favourite contemporary poet who would it be and what makes them your favourite?

Steve Smart. Because of the outrage, the sadness, the emotional nakedness. He really does write for performance, to connect with an audience. I don't think you can appreciate his poetry by silently reading the text - it needs to be said aloud.

For technical virtuosity and delight in language, I'd recommend Geoff Lemon.

What about the masters? Who would you choose and why?

Louis MacNeice, for the colour of his sound.

Choose a favourite one of your own poems to be published with your interview.

'Celtic Knots'

Why is it your favourite?

I don't have a favourite, but I think this one is one of my best, in terms of technical accomplishment as well as impact.

Where was it first published?

In 'Blast' magazine, Canberra, 2007.

What was the inspiration for, or story behind, the piece?

My visit to Dublin in 2005.

Celtic knots

(St Audoen’s Church, Dublin, 2005)

Temple of history, temple

of short lives long

gone, temple of hundreds

of souls… trod

on me hard as I trod

on its layers

of graves. Quiet

spirits whispered hundreds

of hushes

from the eleventh-

century walls.

If I ever go to church in Dublin this is where.

Not in St Patrick’s with its souvenir stalls.

If I go back to Dublin,

if I take you there,

let me take you to St Audoen’s

on a Sunday when the congregation sit,

sing, kneel and pray

where their people have prayed

for a thousand years.

Used continuously since the Normans built it.

Centuries of extension, of chapels and courtyards.

In the fourteenth century, a square tower

with battlements

and bells.

Centuries of loss. Roofs taken off

to escape the roof tax. Gravestones and monuments

weathering away. Dirt building up, the ground rising

in layers of rubble. The townspeople crowding,

singing, chattering, hanging their washing

wall to wall in the roofless buildings.

Stone turning black in the tower.

Bells ringing.

Ringing bells. Re-roofing. Hanging cables. Excavating.

Discovering a cobbled way, a metre wide.

Leaving a section uncovered. Roped off,

with a sign asking us to imagine the people

who walked on the cobbles hundreds of years ago.

Ghosts projected on the ancient wall

in silverblue light, with ethereal music.

Walking. Going, coming. Living on.

Two tourists; a visiting priest; the guide.

Hush, said the ghosts of St Audoen’s.

Hush. This is not St Patrick’s.

Still your chattering modern mouths.

Listen for us and you will hear us

in the hush.

There was a lucky stone, a four-foot ovoid,

pitted and worn with time and touch,

Celtic symbols just visible.

Once stolen, but soon returned.

(The thief had to bring it back: it got heavier
and heavier.) Older than this oldest church,

made by people at the edge of memory.

People who knew how to make symbols

in the way of the land and the layers,

in the way of the earth and her children.

Writing this I touch the necklace

I bought in a souvenir shop in O’Connell street.

A cheap thing, but its four Celtic knots

are enough.

The other tourist touched the stone. For luck.

I didn’t. Couldn’t.

I am too new, too full of dirty salt,
not clean enough.

Old eyes look at me from my wall.

A print: a painting

in which a face appears like a vision

in a stone.

— What are you writing now? the eyes say.

— I’m writing about St Audoen’s.

Have you been there? Did you hear the hush?

Did you touch the lucky stone?

— Do a good job of it then, the eyes say.

— It’s only a sketch for now. Getting it down — you know.

— That’s the way.

I didn’t touch the stone. But my luck was in.

Arms held me, eyes met me, streets

and stones and the river spoke to me.

I was knotted into the strands of Dublin.

Raw ends joined, a pattern completed,

and the rough, the narrow, the cobbled path

took me home.

'Coracle' cover designed by Raymond Grenfell.

Buy 'Coracle' at www.proximitypoetry.com/Books/coracle.html. Book, 94 poems, $25

And in various independent bookshops

Melbourne: Collected Works, Brunswick St Bookstore

Sydney: GleebooksPerth: Crow Books, MacQueen Books and othersAdelaide: Mary Martin, Mostly Books, EAF Bookshop

Buy 'q finger' from www.wellsprungproductions.com.au/PressPress/PressPress_Jackson.html. Chapbook, 24 poems, $9.95

Buy 'consumable gifts' from your friendly local zine distro or from www.proximitypoetry.com/Books/consumable.html. Zine, 20 poems, $5

Find out more about Janet by visiting www.proximitypoetry.com - Find her on facebook - facebook.com/lostpoetjj - follow her on twitter - @lostpoetjj

Coming Soon!

I am painfully aware that almost an entire month has passed of this new year and I have not delivered on my promise.

I have the green light from about ten poets and the contact details for several more so I hope within the next week one of them will have returned their interview and we'll be away...

In the meantime why not take a look through the archives...maybe you missed a post or two.

Last words for 2011

Well the time has come to wrap up on another busy year of reading and writing. I got off to a slow start reading-wise due to last year's christmas toy (iPad) but I finished strong.

I've read a lot of poetry this year and have added quite a few titles to my shelves. Some favourites include This Floating World by Libby Hart, Ocean Hearted by Graham Nunn, The Taste of River Water by Cate Kennedy, Stepping Over Seasons by Ashley Capes and Seasons of Doubt & Burning by Robyn Rowland.

As for fiction, I enjoyed some fantastic story-telling by Jon Bauer Rocks in the Belly, Emma Donoghue Room and Mette Jakobsen The Vanishing Act.

I didn't do as much writing as I had hoped but still managed a fairly hefty rewrite of the first 90 pages of my novel and about a dozen new poems and 2 short stories. What I didn't do this year was send anything out for publication. So this is the big goal for 2012 - submit! I'll have plenty of poetry to work on for submission because I've signed myself up for Month of Poetry and will be writing one new poem a day throughout January.

I was part of two writing/critique groups this year and gained some valuable feedback on my novel from both so a big thanks goes out to Tony, Eleanor, Sam M, Bec, Sam P, Stacey, Kathy, Tina and John.

I brought you 33 author interviews throughout the year and I hope to bring you more in 2012. I am going to focus on poets next year (with a few fiction writers in there as well) and hope to bring one contemporary poet to your attention each month. Perhaps I'll even share some of my own...

Enjoy the holidays, however & wherever you celebrate them and I hope you keep reading in 2012.

~ Lisa

Dianne Blacklock - Author Interview Series

Dianne Blacklock is the author of eight books, Call Waiting, Wife for Hire, Almost Perfect, False Advertising, Crossing Paths, Three’s a Crowd, The Right Time, and The Secret Ingredient.

What authors/books did you read as a child? When did you first discover your love of books?

I read everything I could get my hands on. Seven little Australians was an early favourite; all and anything by Enid Blyton – adored The Famous Five and The Secret Seven. Then there were the usual suspects - Milly Molly Mandy, Pippi Longstocking, Little Women, Heidi, Alice in Wonderland, The Wind in the Willows, Winne the Pooh ... you name it, I read it.

I can’t remember when I started to love books, because I just always did. I was constantly getting into trouble for reading by the light from the hall outside my bedroom, well after I was supposed to be asleep!

When did you first realise you were a writer? What do you hope your readers will take away with them from reading your books?

I have always written stories, it was just part of me. I was a bit naughty at school – mainly talkative, it wouldn’t be remarkable these days in the more relaxed classrooms – however, I did well at school mostly because I could write. My stories were frequently read out at assemblies, won awards, that kind of thing. As I grew older I still loved to write all the time, I could make sense of what was going on in my head by putting it down on paper. But I was from a working class family, the fifth of six kids, it didn’t even occur to me to be a writer or to pursue writing in any serious way. So it wasn’t until I was in my late twenties, when a friend suggested we do some writing together, that I really threw myself into it. But I didn’t believe I was an actual writer until I got the nod from a publisher.

I hope my readers are entertained, and perhaps find something to relate to in my books, that may even help them feel okay about their situation in life.

Do you find it difficult to read purely for pleasure? Does everything you read come under your ‘writer’ microscope?

I can read purely for pleasure, but only outside my ‘genre’. Stories don’t always conform to labels, and I am drawn to strong domestic narratives, but I read commercial women’s fiction sparingly. I either worry that I’ll inadvertently ‘steal’ ideas, or I get worried if I read an idea or a storyline that’s similar to something I’m working on. Or I get intimidated by how good the writer is!

Do you have to avoid reading certain types of fiction while writing your own? Does what you read while writing have an effect on what you write? In what way?

I find it difficult to read fiction at all when I am deeply immersed writing my novels, especially in the end stages. I’m not someone who can pick up a book and read it for 10 minutes. I stay up half the night … just one more chapter, oh, what the heck, just another chapter ... so I find it very difficult to have two fictional worlds competing in my head. I do keep reading during the earlier stages, but it often tampers with my voice. I was reading John Irving a couple of books ago, and found I was writing with the intricate, every day detail you find in a lot of American novels – which I love. It’s about finding the balance between being inspired, and just plain mimicking.

Name five authors or books that have influenced or inspired your own writing in some way?

Charles Dickens, Jane Austen, Jonathan Franzen, Michael Cunningham (specifically The Hours). Lastly, not really an author, but the screenwriter, Aaron Sorkin. I am such a huge fan of his writing; I have watched his films and TV series over and over, hoping to absorb some of his brilliance! I’ve even downloaded a few of his scripts to try to work out how he does it. I know he has influenced my dialogue especially.

If you were travelling and were told you could only take one book with you, what book would it be and why?

Oh my goodness! That’s a hard one. Maybe it would have to be a book I haven’t read yet … whatever has been recommended to me at the time, something on my ‘must read’ list. Last year it would have been Freedom by Jonathan Franzen. Or else, I might bring a classic I’ve never got around to reading (or finishing), because it’s been a bit daunting – Middlemarch, or maybe Anna Karenina. With nothing else to read, it might force me to stick with it!

What makes a book ‘too good to put down’?

The characters. While an intriguing hook might get you in, if you don’t engage with the characters on some level, then it’s difficult to stay with them for the rest of the journey.

What makes you put down a book without finishing it?

Following on from the previous question, if I’m not engaged with the characters, especially the protagonist. For this reason I have struggled to continue A Confederancy of Dunces, because I find it difficult to relate to Ignatius J. Reilly. The same goes for Quoyle in The Shipping News.

I gave up on a popular fiction book recently because it was written from too many perspectives. More than a third of the way in, I turned the page and another chapter began from yet another character’s perspective. I didn’t care enough about any of the characters at that point, let alone to have to take on another.

Do you have a favourite author? Who is it and what is it about their writing that draws you to them?

I can’t place Dickens over Austen; I am drawn to them both because of their skill in characterisation, their innate understanding of the human condition, their extraordinary command of the language, and their wonderful sense of humour. Even though their books were written in another century, about things that are out of my immediate experience, I can still relate.

If you had to list them, what would be your ‘top ten’ reads of all time (excluding the classics) and why?

No classics! So I’m not allowed to include Great Expectations, Pride and Prejudice or To Kill a Mockingbird? Oh well, I’ll try ...

The Hours by Michael Cunningham – I kept reading over paragraphs in awe of the language, the way he expresses emotions. And the way he gets into women’s heads is stunning.

Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates – This novel was published in the year I was born, yet it has such an incredibly ‘modern’ perspective, and touched me deeply.

Wonder Boys by Michael Chabon – A little crazy, but so endearing.

The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen – Again, it’s the characters! Such a cast, and there is a turn of phrase or an observation on every page that surprises.

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov – How is he able to make you have sympathy for a pedophile?

The Road by Cormac McCarthy – A book I shouldn’t have had any interest in, that kept me rivetted. Achingly beautiful.

The Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver, for the way she was able to write from such different characters’ perspectives, about the Congo in the 60s. Just extraordinary.

Wild Swans by Jung Chan – I knew so little about modern Chinese history; a compelling, sweeping novel.

My Crowded Solitude by Jack McLaren – I read this at school and the images have stayed with me ever since. Apparently it’s not very PC any more, but it was of its time.

The Lord of the Rings by JRR Tolkein – This might count as a ‘classic’, but I’m including it anyway. It was a momentous book to read in my teens, and has stayed with me always. I was in love with Aragorn long before Viggo Mortenson played him in the film!

What was your 2010 ‘best read’? What was it that made it number one?

Freedom by Jonathan Franzen. I simply love the way Franzen writes, and paints even unlikeable characters with such insight and intricacy and truth, that you find their humanity.

What do you think of the non-traditional publishing methods – eBooks etc? Do you think the new technology will encourage more people to read? Do you think there’s a future for print books?

I think eBooks will encourage another generation to keep reading into their adulthood. I think they may even be our best chance of ensuring this. Recently my teenage son discovered his favourite band had released a new album, so he immediately went on iTunes and bought it, and was playing it within minutes of first hearing of its existence. I thought he’d want to have the physical CD of a band he loved so much. But that didn’t even occur to him – the music was what he wanted.

I think we have to get over mourning the death of paper books, the smell, the feel, the object. I love my books, and I am from a generation that will probably always want to own a physical version of their favourite books. But I don’t think the generations after me are going to care as much. So if writers can provide their books in a format that people want to read, then all the better. I don’t see a time when print books won’t be available – not everyone will want to shell out for an eReader, no matter how inexpensive and ubiquitous they become. And maybe there will be smaller print runs, particularly of commercial fiction. We still have newspapers – thinned out, for sure, but they still exist; we still have Post offices, and cash, despite all the predictions of their demise.

The greatest thrill for me as a writer has always been – not holding the finished book in my hands, as people assume, but hearing from readers once they’ve read it. It’s the story that matters, content is King, however it happens to be delivered.

Dianne has been a teacher, trainer, counsellor, check-out chick, and even one of those annoying market researchers you avoid in shopping centres. Nowadays she tries not to annoy anyone by staying home and writing.

Find out more about Dianne here.

Melina Marchetta - Author Interview Series

Melina Marchetta's first novel Looking For Alibrandi was published in 1992 and was released as a film in 2000 which she also wrote. Her novels have been published in 17 languages.

What authors/books did you read as a child? When did you first discover your love of books?

I was about 8. My mum is a reader and she passed down books that she had loved as a child. I especially remember Anne of Green Gables and the Naughtiest Girl books. I loved anything about orphans or kids sent to boarding schools. In primary, my favourite novel was Ivan Southall’s Hills End. I was one of the bin girls in Year 6 and we used to waste the whole afternoon burning school rubbish in the incinerator back in the day when that was allowed. But on the afternoons my teacher read Hills End the damage to the environment took second place and I’d be sitting right at the front, hanging off every word.

When did you first realise you were a writer?

I was sixteen. I remember sitting in typing class and handing my stories to the girl next to me, page by page. She’d always be impatient for more and it really helped with my typing speed.

What do you hope your readers will take away with them from reading your books?

A connection to the world I’ve created and a sense that I haven’t done this all before.

Do you find it difficult to read purely for pleasure? Does everything you read come under your ‘writer’ microscope?

The greatest casualty of writing and research has been reading. But I do try to squeeze in a couple of books between projects and especially on summer holidays. I’m one of those people who buy heaps of books and they stack up on my to-be-read pile and I stare at them and feel illiterate.

Do you have to avoid reading certain types of fiction while writing your own? Does what you read while writing have an effect on what you write? In what way?

I do tend to keep away from fantasy when I’m writing the Lumatere Chronicles, although in saying that, at the moment I’m writing and reading fantasy. What worries me the most is reading a novel and noticing a similar story strand or character. It makes me feel anxious and paranoid and then it stops me from writing the story. It gets a bit tricky.

Name five authors or books that have influenced or inspired your own writing in some way.

If I have to think of On the Jellicoe Road, Holes by Louis Sacher was a great inspiration with regards to its structure and intertwining stories. I loved what Joseph Heller did with chronology in Catch 22. Going back to Ivan Southall, Hills End, it’s about a bunch of kids taking on the role of adults under dramatic circumstances, and in Hard Times Charles Dickens has a line by Louisa, the daughter of the owner of the school, where she says, "I wonder..." and her very pragmatic father says, "Louisa, never wonder." The last line of the Jellicoe prologue is an ode to the Louisa line and sentiment.

If you were travelling and were told you could only take one book with you, what book would it be and why?

I can’t answer that so I’ll cheat and say I have a Kindle so I can take more than one.

What makes a book ‘too good to put down’?

I love flawed characters and the grey areas in their personalities. Oh and I do like a great love story. The relationship between Meyer Landsman and his estranged wife, Bina in The Yiddish Policeman’s Union is amazing.

What makes you put down a book without finishing it?

I’m not really good when I don’t like all or most of the characters in a novel, but in saying that, good use of language has got me through many a novel about unlikeable characters (The Inheritance of Loss is one novel that comes to mind). That’s not to say that I think likeable characters have to be a pre-requisite. It’s just a preference thing for me. And if I get a whiff of a love triangle being used merely as a way of providing the main conflict in the story, well that novel goes into the not-to-be-read pile.

If you had to list them, what would be your ‘top ten’ reads of all time (excluding the classics) and why?

The Broken Shore because I loved the character of Joe Cashin and the way Peter Temple nailed characterisation in one line.

The King of Attolia by Megan Whallen Turner, because of the way she explored the claustrophobia, intrigue and boredom of a royal court.

A Civil Campaign By Lois McMaster Bujold, because she set a novel on a planet in the future and makes it seem as if you’re walking into the constrained rules and regulations of an Austen novel including some pretty amazing ways of getting around the primo geniture laws.

The Yiddish Policeman’s Union by Michael Chabon (see below and above)

Year of Wonders by Geraldine March. I travelled with Geraldine on an Asia Link tour the year before I wrote Finnikin and she spoke constantly about the need for vigorous research. Any time I’ve wanted to get lazy with research I think of how disappointed she’d be.

Obernewtyn by Isabelle Carmody. Because it was way before it’s time. Clever with great characters.

Nam Le’s The Boat. When I was writing The Piper’s Son, his short story, Halflead Bay, was a great guide on how to write relationships between men and boys. When it comes to dialogue, less is more.

I know I could be cheating a bit, but there doesn’t seem to be any rule against biography so I’m including the following two because they amazed me and I felt as if I was reading fiction.

The Silent Woman by Janet Malcolm

Joe Cinque’s Consolation by Helen Garner

What was your 2010 ‘best read’? What was it that made it number one?

Definitely The Yiddish Policeman’s Union. It walked a beautiful line between humour and pathos.

What do you think of the non-traditional publishing methods – eBooks etc? Do you think the new technology will encourage more people to read? Do you think there’s a future for print books?

For me, eBooks are great for when you’re travelling. Last year, I was downloading on long bus trips between Turkish towns. I also know friends with elderly parents who are loving the larger fonts and I remember hearing the writer Aiden Chambers speak about finally getting through War and Peace because he didn’t have to be intimidated by just how big that book was.

But it’s too soon to tell what it will all lead to. Every second person owning an iPAD does not equate to every second person reading eBooks. I especially don’t think eBooks will encourage people to read. If they weren’t reading before, they’re not going to start now. And the print book will always always be around. A friend in his 20s (supposedly the greatest consumer of eBooks) once said to me that there were few pleasures in life and one was holding a novel in his hand.

Melina Marchetta is a Sydney author. Her latest fantasy novel Froi of the Exile is Book Two in The Lumatere Chronicles, which began with Finnikin of the Rock. She is currently writing the last novel in the trilogy, Quintana of Charyn.

To find out more about Melina and her books go here.