Melbourne! Cut it out!

Napoleon in Melbourne

Sydney, a semi-tropical city, and Melbourne, closer to Antarctica, are Australia’s two largest cities. Sydney was founded by British Marines as a dumping ground for convicts in the late 1700s. Most people admit that Sydney’s history is riddled with bribery, crime and corruption. Melbourne was founded much later by free settlers, and has a reputation for sobriety and social responsibity. Except for the occasional bout of bribery, crime and corruption.

But, damn it, Sydney is older, larger, and more beautiful, which makes people from Melbourne grit their teeth. Or so we imagine, in Sydney.

“Napoleon conquers Melbourne (again) — the untold story of Bonaparte’s Victorian reign”, screams the headline, splashed all over the front of the Entertainment section of The Melbourne Age. An article by Raymond Gill, dated May 11, 2012, follows:

“From a map marked “Terre Napoleon” claiming Victoria as French territory to a country residence outside Paris that was a show-place for Australian exotica, Napoleon Bonaparte was a great admirer and preserver of our heritage.”

Apparently a collection of indigenous Australian and local flora and fauna by French explorers “is winging its way to Melbourne to tell an untold story of the emperor’s fascination with the new world Down Under.”

The excited reader can be forgiven for imagining Napoleon Bonaparte, Emperor of France, absorbed in planning a lightning military campaign to invade Australia and claim Melbourne as his own city.

There’s only one problem with this bizarre theory: Napoleon died in 1821. Melbourne didn’t exist then: it was founded fourteen years later by settlers from Launceston in Van Diemen’s Land.

I recall reading an article a year or so ago (in the same paper?) that likened Berlin to Melbourne: they both have trams, and a zoo, and lots of culture and history. More or less the same, really, except that Melbourne is so much livelier. So say the people from Melbourne.

Uncle Wystan

Auden cover image

Available on my Main Site, my 1995 review of Auden, by Richard Davenport-Hines.

… Worse, perhaps, to an Australian reviewer spoiled by a society in which hot showers are plentiful, he seems to have been staggeringly dirty in his habits. He summarised his appearance, rather charitably, as “untidy and grubby”. A franker appraisal came from Stravinsky, who called him “the dirtiest man I had ever liked.” His clothes were often stained and frayed, and Paul Bowles described him not long after his move to New York in 1939 as “pretty eccentric … does strange things like picking his nose and eating what he finds … however he’s very bright and fun to talk to.” In old age he talked rather too brightly about farts, and about the fun of peeing in the bath. Perhaps he was trying to live out an aphorism articulated when he was twenty, and perhaps borrowed from Oscar Wilde: “Real artists are not nice people; all their best feelings go into their work, and life has the residue.”…

More here: http://johntranter.com/reviewer/auden-rdh.shtml

Auckland: Short Takes on Long Poems

Here are three pages from my Tapa Notebook, which I filled in as an aide memoire for my time in Auckland in late March 2012, at a symposium sponsored by the University of Auckland. The notebook has been sent to the University Library for safekeeping. Tapa? “Tapa” is a cloth made from the bark of the Paper Mulberry tree, a decorated and valuable cloth common in Oceania. A panel of Tapa cloth decorates the front cover of these notebooks. See all 110 pages here: my Tapa Notebook.

John Tranter's Tapa Notebook page 53

John Tranter's Tapa Notebook page 85

John Tranter's Tapa Notebook page 99

Lorikeet and Rose

Rainbow Lorikeet

On my morning walk around the Balmain waterfront park in Sydney today, a parrot, and on the way home, in a suburban garden, a flower: the bird, a The Rainbow Lorikeet, (Trichoglossus haematodus) is a species of Australasian parrot found in Australia, eastern Indonesia (Maluku and Western New Guinea), Papua New Guinea, New Caledonia, Solomon Islands and Vanuatu. In Australia, it is common along the eastern seaboard, from Queensland to South Australia and northwest Tasmania. Its habitat is rainforest, coastal bush and woodland areas. (Wikipedia).

The rose is a rose is a rose.

rose

Phew! Back at Last!

Boy, what a series of misadventures… wandering in the wilderness of the Internet, the nether abysses of Cyberspace… I won’t go changing Internet Service Providers again so blithely. So, after several weeks Lost in Space, I’m back.

The good news is that I had a great time in Auckland at the end of March 2012, attending the Auckland University symposium titled “Short Takes on Long Poems”, including helping to write the longest poem in the world in the sand at Oneroa Bay:

Horse and poem

I have a five-part writeup on it here, with lots of photos and with a detailed addendum from Rachel Blau DuPlessis from Temple U in Philadelphia:

http://johntranter.com/00/notebook.shtml

So call by, take a look, then call back here and leave some comments.

It’s good to be back!

The Poetry Hour is brought to you by…

Samuel Johnson, by Sir Joshua Reynolds

Samuel Johnson, by Sir Joshua Reynolds

I know of two large Australian poetry anthologies that have been published with sponsorship assistance; that is, the authors or friends of the authors have given the publisher money to defray printing costs, either to ensure better quality binding and paper than the expected returns from the market would allow the publisher to employ, and so to bring the cost and therefore the price of the book to levels that the market might be expected to bear, or simply to encourage a reluctant publisher to publish. The market for poetry in Australia is very small, and is not likely to grow larger while modern toys, gadgets and entertainments clamour for the attention of the time-poor consumer.

For the fewer copies of a book you print, the more costly each copy becomes. Eventually the price you are forced to charge for each copy to recoup your costs makes the book too expensive for anyone to buy. People will gladly pay $40 for a public concert or a restaurant meal or a good bottle of wine, but not for a book. After all, modern poetry is of variable quality, reading takes time, and who has time to spare these days?

The Literature Board of the Australia Council sometimes assists publishers to publish works of literary merit. And I suspect that there are other books of poetry similarly assisted on their voyage from obscurity in the memory banks of the author’s word processor to public visibility.

Once sponsorship demanded encomiums that praised the sponsor. As the Cambridge Concise History of English Literature puts it, “A famous name in the dedication gave a book a greater chance of success; moreover the accepted dedication of a work often meant a substantial gift from a princely patron; hence the prevalence of fulsome dedications.” “Fulsome” here means “disgusting because overdone, excessive.”
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Villepin the Poet

M. Villepin

      Alexandria

Think of the village baby.
A scene of adventure – the dream of Europe.
The eyes of marching armies fostered perplexity
that marred all its books and intellectuals
and opened their minds to the encyclopaedia of algebra
and carmine bear remembrances.
The tumult of the bears has maintained the fear.

      Cairo

Ladies choose a country to call symbolic,
uncertain of which temptation to desire,
the theatre of maiming, the pain,
the poets, the verses frozen,
aware of the men and women of this road,
the cradle impossible to forget: our origins.
The Mediterranean exploits of Herodotus
spread to both of the memory vaults.
The stone murmurs our common heritage.

      Giza

We know the imagination of letters,
the country of hanging gardens, this
speaks to us. We are bound by its women,
children play with hope. The transparent work
without play is reported missing.
The expert should like food.
Ladies are prepared to become rich
despite the clangour of morality.

      Luxor

In our shelter, harm depends on a fresh chance
for decadence. We have toyed with nostalgia,
and vengeance is a blind alley.
Am I not ancient? We wish to spread
a host of luxuriant factors for play.

We need her rich experience and feelings of despair.
It intensifies the suffering.
There has never been such abomination.
Each road must be ripe for the sad future,
embracing water and the thirst for travel.

      Thebes

The joint will lend an ear
to the consciousness.
It would lag behind concrete,
for the sad future is embracing water
and the thirst for travel.

Act, think about the pool, these fields.
Relax: go further to the shore,
create a stimulant for our partners.
A high-level personality means breathing.
Our neighbours must be separated.

Here is M Villepin’s speech, in English. Note: It is very long.

«The Mediterranean World and the Middle East» (Cairo, 12 April 2003)

Ladies and gentlemen, How could one choose a more obvious country than Egypt to call on this part of the world’s memories and ambitions? What other more symbolic place could we choose as the meeting point between the East and the West, and to address the challenges of the future?

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