Empire Times 40.5 by FUSA Association

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Editorial

Prez Dispenser

Brodie McGee

Contributor Spotlight Sex Ed With Mistress M

5 6

Emma Sachsse

Dear Dorothy

Global Issues

Agnik Sarkar

Politics

Aneta Peretko

Rape Culture

Dolphin Deaths

Tamara Burt

Last Words

Katerina Bryant

NTEU

Ron Slee

High Tea

Sarah Gates

Art Review

Madeline Reece

Student Walkouts

Grace Hill

Vox Pops

Crossword

Film Spotlight

Dorian BaĹĄiÄ&#x2021;

Film Reviews

Annie Robinson, Cara Solly, Nikki Klindzic

Theatre

Sarah Gates

Music Reviews

Miranda Richardson, Rowena Edwards

The Voice

The Laughing Bard

Interview: Hannah Kent

Simon Collinson

Book Reviews

Holly Richter, Jess De Silva

Fiction

Lachlan Hunt

Poetry

Lachlan Hunt, Georgia Brass, Sam Nock, Charles Chiam Chuang Chao

Elizabeth

Daw,

Games

Blast From The Past

Editors: Sarah Gates, Simon Collinson, and Preesan Pillay Thanks to our masked models for the front cover

Empire Times is a free publication of the Flinders University Student Association Visit us at facebook.com/empiretimesmag or fusa.edu.au/Common/ContentWM.aspx?CID=33

Contents

[ editorial ]

t’s been a while since we’ve seen so much conflict in and around universities. A few weeks ago we learnt about the federal government’s plans to cut university funding by $2.8 billion, and we have a report on the national student walkout held in response on page 28. We have a piece from the National Tertiary Education Union on page 21, explaining why later this year we may see industrial action on campus. For these important issues to be debated openly, we need independent, forthright student media. Empire Times has covered many of these issues in past decades, and often in far more colourful language. However, it may surprise you to discover that these days student magazines are less independent of universities than they appear. The legislation which enables the collection of student services and amenities fees now funnels this money through universities and prevents it from being used to “support” political parties or candidates. The degree of power this grants university administrators is not yet clear, but an incident at ANU a few weeks ago suggest it may be larger than expected. After ANU student magazine Woroni published a satirical cartoon about Islam which many found offensive and feared would imperil ANU’s security and reputation, the ANU administration threatened the magazine with withdrawal of its funding and the student editors with academic misconduct charges, eventually forcing them to withdraw the cartoon from the magazine entirely. Of course, tact and balance should always be exercised when discussing sensitive issues – but this doesn’t mean that universities should abandon their history of

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fostering free and open debate on controversial issues at the first sign of offence. We’re fortunate in having a close relationship with the Flinders administration, who have never shown any sign of wanting to impinge on our independence. However, no student magazine should have to rely on administrative forbearance to effectively represent its readers. Consequently, we share our colleagues’ concerns about the implications of this incident for free speech on campuses, and suggest that the student fee legislation be recast to ensure student media remain independent. –––– On a brighter note, thanks to everyone who came to our relaunch party on Friday May 17th. It was great to meet so many of our readers and contributors in person. If you missed out, though, fear not! To celebrate our 40th anniversary later this year, we’ll be having an even bigger party, as well a panel discussion with former ET editors. It’ll be bangin’ – hope to see you there.

Love, Your editors Simon, Preesan, and Sarah

THANK YOU!

Another huge THANK YOU to the best people on Earth – you, if you are a contributor reading this right now. Of course, we love our dear readers as well. But our contributors fill these pages and our hearts. So thank you again for all your hard work and commitment, especially with exams looming and all those major assignments cropping up out of nowhere. If you’d like to join us for issue six, drop us a line at empire.times@flinders.edu.au. You’ve got the holidays to produce something amazing to the theme: sexuality/men’s and women’s issues. Or check out our Facebook page: facebook.com/empiretimesmag.

Writers Cara Solly Charles Chiam Chuang Chao Emma Sachsse Georgia Brass Grace Hill Holly Richter Jess De Silva Lachlan Hunt

Madeline Reece Mat Drogemuller Miranda Richardson Nikki Klindzic Ron Slee Rowena Edwards Sam Nock Tamara Burt

Artists/Photographers Darren Green James Vigus Jess Dangerfield SA Unions Shane Reid

Columnists Agnik Sarkar Dorian Bašić Emma Sachsse

Sub-Editors Alice James (Fiction) Aneta Peretko (Law/Policy) Annie Robinson (Film) Elizabeth Daw (Music) Katerina Bryant (Features)

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[ prez dispenser ]

he last couple of weeks have been crazy busy and I hope you’re all getting set up for exams later next month. FUSA have been busy this month with a few events, and also some planning for upcoming events. We’re pretty excited for some things happening later this year. Firstly, in week one of semester two we’re pulling out all the stops, working closely with FlindersOne to put on a huge Refresh Week! Gone are the days of O-Week – this will be focused as much on continuing students as it is new students. With big student parties, prizes all week, food – it should be a fairly awesome week. With paint. Lots and lots of paint. Also later this year, in October, we’re putting on the FUSA Ball with the theme ‘A Night in Hollywood.’ Tickets will be going on sale soon, but our council are getting pumped at the thought of this event – we think it’s going to be one of the best parties Flinders’ students have put on in a long time. We’ve printed a bunch of social calendars that you should get your hands on – it lists all of the parties and events we have planned, so there’s no excuse now to say that nothing ever happens at Flinders Uni. Recently we also held an All-Student Forum where we asked for a bunch of feedback and ideas for what students want to see on campus. The attendees seemed impressed with some of the things that FUSA are doing, but they did mention they hadn’t heard about any of it before! So, we’re now doing weekly newsletters briefly detailing all the things that FUSA are up to. If you’re a member you should receive it automatically, or you can email general.secretary@flinders.edu.au to be put on the list. I hope you’ve all been able to see more and more happening at Flinders this year – and there’s so much more happening in Semester 2. So keep an eye out for our staff, volunteers and student council!

Brodie McGee President, Flinders University Student Association

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[ contributor spotlight ] Dorian Bašić

Annie Robinson

Tell us a bit about yourself: Law/Arts student, interested in economic thought, history, gaming, literature, and of course, film. Tend to be a snob when it comes to video games, not interested in the mind-numbing sideshow that is most AAA titles these days. Carefully treading the line between normality and neckbeard/basement dweller status.

Tell us a bit about yourself: I’m in my third year of a Bachelor of Science in Animal Behaviour. I cheat on my science degree with an English elective every semester as I also love writing! I currently work at a cinema, and have twenty-six pet frogs, one gecko, a dog, and a chicken.

What is the first thing you would do if today was your last day? Evacuate my bowels so I retain some dignity in my final moments. What’s your vision of a perfect world? Something grim, dark and edgy to satisfy the 13 yr old part of me. Warhammer 40k style, fighting hordes of aliens ‘til the end of time would be pleasant. If you could have dinner with any five people, living or dead, who would they be and why? Evelyn de Rothschild: Being in the position he is, the man couldn’t possibly be unaware of the political reality of the modern world. George Washington: Personal fan of the Founding Fathers and their political stances. John D. Rockefeller: Would be interested to know his opinion of the world today, and his insight on the period he lived in. Mayer Amschel Rothschild : Same as above. Marcus Aurelius: Find his philosophy and outlook personally liberating. When I grow up, I want to: It’s a matter of if, not when. I doubt it’ll happen any time soon.

What is the first thing you would do if today was your last day? Make sure my little sister was committed to looking after all the frogs! Or perhaps release them all in the Flinders lake at an extravagant frog themed party. With wine. Lots of wine. What’s your vision of a perfect world? One where all species are able to thrive. If you could have dinner with any five people, living or dead, who would they be and why? Jane Goodall so I can absorb everything she knows. Matt Berninger from The National to say thank you. Frog expert Mike Tyler so we can, well, discuss frogs. J.K. Rowling for some intense wine-fuelled Harry Potter discussions. And Oscar Wilde to keep all the famous people in check! Best/Worst Flinders moment? (you can answer best or worst, whichever your prefer) Once a stranger at uni told me I look like Anne Hathaway. On another occasion, a stranger followed me across the plaza before apologising because he’d thought I was his friend “Andrew.” You win some, you lose some! When I grow up, I want to: Work for World Wildlife Fund and cuddle a pangolin.

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Sex Ed With Mistress M: Love your lips Vaginas, vaginas, vaginas. It’s not a word we are always comfortable using, and apparently not a part of the body enough of us are comfortable with, full stop. Grey’s Anatomy (the TV show), in 2006, brought us the word vajayjay. Really? Doctors can’t say vagina? A high school science teacher in Idaho got in trouble recently for using the word vagina. When he was teaching about vaginas. There is a website where women post photos of their vaginas, helping to deal with the fact that so many of us feel that our vaginas aren’t pretty enough, neat enough or whatever silly thing we are thinking. I do wish this site had existed when I was young and insecure. But the internet didn’t have vaginas roaming free of porn back then. Whatever the look and shape of yours, or your partner’s vagina, it is normal (as long as it isn’t hurting – if it is, go see a doctor). Like our fingerprints, each vagina is unique. If you have only seen porn vaginas, you are not in a position to judge (oh and, by the way, porn boobs aren’t always real either). The people who seem most comfortable with a wide variety of vaginas are lesbians and sexually experienced men. I guess they have seen more close up than the rest of us. Sort of like David Attenborough, studying their infinite variety, majesty and diversity for the good of mankind. A guide to living with a vagina. Have a look at it, appreciate it. Look at all the others on http://vaginasoftheworld.tumblr.com (this is where you will find free range vaginas). If you can’t immediately appreciate its looks, learn to love the pleasure it gives you. Do not douche it or deodorise it. These are things that will bugger up the works. A vagina is a self regulating, self maintaining area. Keep it clean with a gentle cleanser and let it smell like a healthy vagina. If it smells unhealthy, get it to a doctor. As for shaving or waxing, groomed pubic hair is a

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fashion that changes style frequently. The completely hairless look became fashionable in the 90s. If you go to forums about porn, you may find men bemoaning the prevalence of the completely hairless pussy, searching for vintage porn to get that au natural look they long for. The point being, whatever feels comfortable and right for you, there will be someone who will appreciate it. I do not think, however, that there are men or lesbians out there who look at a vagina and think, “you know that pussy needs more bling.” Vajazzling, really? I think a rise in hospital visits due to “misplaced sequins” agrees with my instinct to say no to the vajazzle. Oh, and with normal hair removal, be careful as waxing and shaving can cause microscopic wounds which, according to some experts, leave you more vulnerable to STDs. Kegel exercises are a real thing, and are good for you and your orgasms. And the great thing is you can do them now, while you are reading this. There is a woman out there who can lift 14kg weights with her vaginal muscles. Why? I do not know, but I know she won’t be incontinent later in life. Sarah Silverman did a great “craft” with her smart phone on Conan the other day. She got Conan O’Brien to put his head on the side and stick his tongue out a little bit. She took a photo and she then held the photo of his lips up in front of her crotch. It was funny and the censors pixelated it! What, we aren’t even comfortable with pretend vaginas? Anyone who insults your vagina is a douche – and as I said already, they aren’t good for your vagina. So stay away from them. Love yourself, touch yourself and be good to each other.

Yours, Mistress M

y h t o r o D r a De nt. I like e m o m Dear Dorothy, he t t a e m o two boys int I am a girl who has who to choose? w o n k t ’ n o d d n a them both, Pursued Dear Pursued, It’s a hard life... If you wanted either of them, you’d know. The fact that you’re questioning your options shows that you’re not into them enough. If you’re not feeling it, don’t be with them. Unless you’re looking for a good time? Then choose the cuter one. Or both. It’s 2013, gurrl. Don’t let their interest pressure you into being in a relationship that you’re not that keen on. But, if you are madly in love with both (LOL that’s a thing?), then choose the one you met later. I’m pretty sure you can’t fall in love if you’ve already met “The One.” Good luck!

Dear Dorothy , I have no time for my friends. They’re gettin responding to g mad at me fo messages, miss r not in g events and no see them – bu t organising tim t I’m actually n e to on-stop, hectic Help! BUSY. No time for you Dear No time for you, To be honest, I’m not really buying it. NOBODY is that busy that you can’t take literally ten seconds to send a text message apologising for your absence. You need to question why you are not meeting up with your friends or responding to their messages. If you wanted to talk to them, you’d make time. Are you feeling like your friends aren’t reflecting who you are anymore? Have they failed you in some way? If you are no longer interested in having them in your life, then keep doing what you’re doing. Or be honest with them. Either way you’ll end up with all the free time you claim you need.

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A Mirror to the

World Words by Agnik Sarkar

n a time of failing banks, faltering economies and general economic malaise, it’s of little wonder that the new catchcry of global news media is “austerity.” The term, austerity refers, in simple terms, to the policies enacted by governments to reduce spending and limit budget deficits. These are normally implemented in times of economic hardship in order to reduce or halt the growth of government debt. Austerity involves, but is not limited to, the privatisation of public companies such as banks and utilities, slashing budgets used to prop up social services, and the layoffs of thousands of public sector workers. Furthermore, governments in such dire economic straits are often forced to raise taxes, placing further pressure on all strata of society. Ultimately, as government and individual wealth is affected by the financial tremors of the 2007/2008 Global Financial Crisis, the health sector suffers a similar fate. Thus, the twin problems of recession and austerity can compound to a national health crisis. With unemployment comes not only a spike in depression and anxiety, but an accompanying inability for individuals to afford even basic medical care. Unfortunately, this can also be expanded to social services, as governments can no longer afford to generously furnish healthcare systems and cater to public need. Consequently, public health in previously wealthy countries deteriorates to conditions common only in underdeveloped regions of the world. According to David Stuckler and Sanjay Basu, authors of the book The body Economic: Why Austerity Kills, 10,000 additional suicides and a million new cases of depression have been recorded in Europe and the United States since the beginning of recent austerity programs.

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Deep incisions in budgets that are vital to the sustenance of social services have caused an, as yet, fully unquantified level of harm to affected societies. Greece, presently the epicentre of Europe’s fiscal woes, has had to introduce a punishing 40% cut in the health budget since 2008. In doing so, they have met the terms of a 2010 bailout agreement from the ‘Troika’ of the European Central Bank, the International Monetary Fund and the European

Commission. Reductions in HIV-prevention budgets have coincided with a 200% increase in the deadly virus in Greece. This has been further augmented by skyrocketing intravenous drug use amongst the country’s vast number of unemployed youth and widespread homelessness. Between 2008 and 2010, the rate of stillbirths per 1,000 people leapt 32% despite steadily declining in the years before the crisis. At the same time, infant mortality has risen by 40%. Additional research in Cardiology at the General Hospital of Kalamata in Messinia, Greece, demonstrated a 21% increase in incidence of heart attacks in patients younger than 45 and a 29% increase in patients older than 45. Under conditions of austerity, medications, procedures and consultations become increasingly expensive, lose public funding and result in patient inability to address their health concerns. Unemployment itself is metastasising into a pandemic, bringing with it alcoholism, depression, anxiety, stress and suicidal ideation. While it is impossible to compare two countries equally on all measures, relative to Greece, Iceland has dealt with its financial crisis whilst avoiding damage to health access. Following the failure of all three of its banks, total debt soared, unemployment increased ninefold, and the value of its currency – the krona – collapsed. In two referenda (2010 and 2011), Icelandic citizens rejected austerity measures and opted to pay off their debts as a country gradually. Since then, no individual lost health care coverage or access to medication, even as the price of imported drugs rose. There was no significant increase in suicide. Iceland still ranks one of the world’s happiest nations according to the Global Happiness Index. As residents of a resource-rich nation, blessed with relative social and political stability, we must appreciate that we still have access to vital social services. Only by the accident of birth have the citizens of Greece, Portugal, Spain and dozens of other poverty-ridden states been forced to suffer the consequences of financial forces beyond their control. Whilst austerity itself cannot be solely blamed for the proliferation of health problems, it’s clear that a government decision to either embrace or reject it can be a life-or-death decision.

A Kafkaesque Nightmare

hen an asylum seeker is granted refugee status, he or she receives a visa. That visa is the key to entering the wider Australian community. Fifty-five people, most on the run from the civil war in Sri Lanka, arrived in Australia, sought asylum and were granted refugee status three to four years ago. They have not been given visas, which means that since then, they have remained in prison-like conditions of indefinite detention. As they have almost no prospect of receiving their visas, they have almost no prospect of getting out. These fifty-five refugees exist in the darkest vortex of Australia’s immigration crisis, a black hole regulated by the Australian Secret Intelligence Organisation (ASIO) and the legislation that deals with refugees, the Migration Act 1958. One of the powers of ASIO is its assessment of security threats, including that of individuals who pose a risk to Australia’s national security. These fifty-five were adversely assessed. If they had been Australian citizens, they would have faced a cancelled passport and termination of any government-related employment. But refugees, like these fifty-five, are denied a visa. They haven’t been charged, giving them no legal avenue in that respect. Because they are not Australian citizens, they have no right to appeal an ASIO finding in the Administrative Appeals Tribunal. At most, they can seek review by a former Federal Court judge who cannot compel ASIO to reconsider. International law cannot touch them, and that leaves Australia in quite the bind. Having granted official refugee status to these fifty-five people, Australia cannot ‘refoule’ them; that is, send them back to where they fled from – doing so would be a major breach of international law. Having assessed them as a security risk, Australia cannot give them a visa.

Setting aside the human rights implications for a moment, the core issue is one of oversight. It is entirely possible that, indeed, ASIO does have evidence that these fifty-five were involved in assassination plots, militant training, smuggling, or any other transnational crime. And in fact, ASIO released a carefully worded summary of each individual assessment to the refugees in question. Of course, in national security talk, “carefully worded” means “stripped of all delicate information.” In effect, it means “providing no evidence,” and in the case of extrajudicial imprisonments, depriving individuals of liberty without any meaningful oversight is a concern. According to Julian Burnside QC, one of Australia’s most prominent lawyers, that’s the stuff of ‘Kafkaesque’ nightmares; a phrase he used in an article penned for ABC on the matter. The Age and the Sydney Morning Herald quickly picked up the story, prompting protest and vigils in major Australian cities to enter discussion. The delicate position of these fifty-five may have gained media traction recently, but in the context of a government terrified to be seen as weak on terror, media traction and moral outrage might not be enough. Plus, it’s national security. The most emotive, powerful mandate. Following recent terror attacks in Boston, sympathy for national security is in peak form again. The shock impact of 9/11 allowed a vast array of controversial policies in the Howard years. We’ll probably accept these, too.

Words by Aneta Peretko

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Embrace nature to nurture your learning experience W

e’re at that point of the semester where many students have their heads in their hands in a state of despair as major assignments are due; the exam period looms; and stress, anxiety and our mental wellbeing is being stretched further and further. But nature may be a way to help us cope not just near exam time, but for our entire duration at university (as well as into our working lives). It has been suggested that having contact with nature is beneficial, even essential to our health and wellbeing. Frederick Law Olmsted, a 19th century American landscape architect, believed that the tensions created by the artificial surroundings of urban life – or in this case, university – could be fixed with the help of the natural environment. Today’s society still views humans and the environment as independent of each other, which is evident here at Flinders University, despite its location being surrounded by wonderful biodiversity. The letdown here is the distinct sixties concrete jungle-style architecture, which confines students and staff into what seems like an educational prison. We are insulated from the outdoor environmental stimuli, and instead we are exposed to too much artificial stimulation (such as computers, phones and fluorescent lighting) which causes exhaustion and a general loss of vitality. Engaging with nature helps to improve mental wellbeing and productivity by reducing stress, boosting the immune system, and decreasing mental fatigue. Mental fatigue usually results from long periods of attention of a specific task. Nature aids students to deliver better performance in these tasks by letting the subconscious mind almost wander and process information. Decreased mental capacity and poor metal health appear to be common ailments among university students. The benefits of nature were recently examined. University students were given a test and the scores of two groups were compared, based on whether they had or did not have views of nature. It was found that those with a view of the environment scored better on the test compared to those who didn’t. Other research discovered that people who worked in offices without windows were more likely to choose photos of outdoor or natural scenes than those who worked in offices with windows. Even just looking out of a window with natural scenery delivers healing properties. This is great news for those who

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dislike the outdoors – you don’t actually need to frolic outside to enjoy the benefits! I believe creative ways are needed to break the barriers between nature and indoors here at Flinders. The opportunity to sit outside and work is limited or uncomfortable where there are only a few benches and no shelter to escape the elements. Being forced to sit in a stuffy library to complete work, or having to sit in a tutorial room that looks like a prison cell is uninspiring and depressing. Flinders University is located in an area that has wonderful views and extensive greenery, and there are so many opportunities for the university to start considering ways in which learning experiences can be enhanced and made less stressful – for both staff and students. More murals need to be on the walls around the campus; pictures of natural scenery, as well as plants need to be placed in tutorial rooms and offices, the library, and in the Refectory. It gives students the opportunity for artwork as an outlet, to have a nice place to sit and study with a group, or even just a place to sit down and wind down for a little bit. Facilities like chairs and tables, shades and gazebo-like infrastructures placed by the lake, plaza, and faculty spaces are also necessary. This has the potential to enhance the learning experience and engagement by being able to have classes outside, holding more events like barbeques in shaded areas around the uni, and allows for a greater sense of community and social belonging. We need to stop the presumptions that the appreciation of nature makes us some kind of ‘hippie,’ but rather accept that we as a human race are linked into the complex biosphere and need to reconnect with nature for our own wellbeing and productivity. In my mind, a happy student is a less stressed and more productive student. While I think the university needs to start taking this into consideration, for now I recommend you go sit by a window, sit outside, or even have your pet around if at home to help alleviate the stresses of exam time. We’ve got this!

Adriana Allman, FUSA Environment Officer

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...And You Say Rape Culture Doesn’t Exist? S

outh Australian Gemma Beale has accumulated, like most young women, much unwanted first-hand experience with street harassment. In response to a particularly bad week, where three separate incidents occurred, Gemma created her blog, “…and you say rape culture doesn’t exist.” The result is a disturbing collation of true experiences, mostly based

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in Adelaide. They span from those situations where he’s just being that touch too friendly, to confronting accounts of rape, to the lack of support by friends, family or even the police. She hopes that, through sharing these stories, rape culture can be eradicated. It can also help those is similar situations learn techniques to getting out of trouble. Even though it’s not their fault.

Why did you start “...and you say rape culture doesn’t exist?”

“

Then I had one particularly bad week, where I had three different creeps harass me on the street/bus. I just got fed up and wrote it down in a list. I follow HollaBack and Street Harassment on various social media platforms, so making a Tumblr page seemed the most obvious option.

There’s a pretty pervasive idea that women who get harassed somehow brought it on themselves. So most people don’t want to open themselves up to criticism, however misplaced it may be.

Were you surprised by the immediate reaction to your blog?

How do you deal with receiving upsetting posts?

Yes, very much so.

I’ve done quite a lot of work with people who have experienced domestic violence, rape and sexual assault; so I’ve got some pretty good coping strategies in place. I’ve also got friends who work in the field with whom I can debrief.

It was the blending of two ideas. The first was that I’d been thinking and talking to friends about street harassment and different ways we monitored ourselves to try and avoid unpleasant people and scenarios.

The initial reaction was overwhelming – in the first fortnight I had about a hundred different women (mostly) write in with their stories, and I got coverage on local radio and in Lip Magazine. Having said that, it has died down a bit since then – but I’m working to build it back up at the moment. The efficacy of the thing is completely based in having a large number of different, but similar, stories. So if you’re reading this and you have a story to share, please do. Why do you think the anonymity offered by your blog is so important? How do you think this reflects on the issue at large? I think, as a general rule, people are more comfortable with others reading their writing if it’s anonymous – let alone when you’re discussing an issue that is traumatic or intimidating. There’s a pretty pervasive idea that women who get harassed somehow brought it on themselves. So most people don’t want to open themselves up to criticism, however misplaced it may be. In terms of the nature of street harassment, specifically, and rape culture, more broadly, means that it’s pretty easy to dismiss these kinds of encounters incident by incident – or worse – internalise ways to avoid them. But hopefully, by reading some of these stories, the pervasive nature of the issue becomes clearer and “that thing that dude on the bus did” isn’t a thing you just shake off when you get to your stop. It’s something that should make you mad and want to challenge the issue.

”

Plus, as time has passed I’ve got stricter about when I check my inbox. When I started it, I was checking regularly and positing the stories as they came in. But this meant these horrible stories were kind of taking over all my free time. Now I set time aside to do it, when I know I can deal with the emotions. What steps do you think should be taken to overcome rape culture? That’s a big question and I’m certainly not the most qualified person to answer it; but, I think, education programs are probably the way to go, as with most gender-centred problems. We have to challenge the idea that women and girls should be beautiful and accommodating to men. Then, maybe, men will stop behaving as though they’re entitled to speak to women inappropriately or touch them without their consent. Do you identify as a feminist? Why or why not? Yes, wholeheartedly. I think there significant disparity between and within genders. Ours is a culture that doesn’t acknowledge these differences, and that restricts and harms everyone. At its heart, feminism is all about challenging restrictive gender roles and their negative repercussions. More on the flipside

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A Few Experiences From Adelaide Women... One woman’s stand-out experiences of street harassment 1. Old man bleeding from his head on the side of the road. I stop to ask him if he’s ok. He tells me he’s “so OK he could rape me” and grins. 2. Sitting at the train stop in goodwood. It’s midmorning and I’m alone. Dude asks me when the train’s due “10 or so minutes,” I say. He walks away. Walks back and asks me about my bike. Walks away. Walks back and he’s got his cock out. There’s no one around and I’m scared. He’s bigger than I am. I shake my head and say “please go away.” He walks away and I don’t call the police because I’m worried he’ll hear me. Later in the afternoon my colleagues tell me I need to report it and the police tell me off for not doing it sooner. 3. I’m co-hosting a late night radio show and the same man calls every week to talk to me. It’s uncomfortable and I start getting my co-host to take the calls. One week I leave the station and catch the taxi that’s waiting out the front. Sweet – I think – don’t have to walk through the city alone at 1 am. After we take-off the driver asks why I didn’t call him back. I am scared, I don’t have enough money to get out and catch another taxi and I don’t want to be stranded in the city with him around. I get him to drop me down the street from my house and he sits with the lights on watching me walk – I go into a strangers house and hide in the bushes til the car’s gone. I don’t catch taxis for months. 4. It’s probably 3 am and I’ve started catching taxis again. I pay the driver and go to get out. He asks if

I want to “hang out.” I decline. He persists. Nothing happens but I’m worried about taxis again. 5. Another taxi driver wants me to hang out. I make a mental note to always memorise taxi’s number plates before I get in. From then on for the duration of taxi rides I have a text message waiting to be sent to my boyfriend with “Taxi:” and the car’s number plate. 6. I’m single again and the driver’s being a creep. Who do I text now? It’s 4 am and probably it’ll be fine. Need a new plan. “I don’t have to ask” 1. I was at a party, and someone I considered a friend took advantage of me while I was unconscious from drinking. He said to me later that he “wished he could get a chance with me sober” – my ‘friend’ said it wasn’t really rape. 2. My ex-boss really liked the dress I wore to work one day, I didn’t wear it the next day and he acted disappointed then got me to do a task I didn’t really like and he said, “If you’d worn that dress you wouldn’t have to do this.” Just words I am now 23 and studying full time just the other day I walked past a group of young men who study where I do and they spotted me and discussed loudly between themselves what they would like to do to me in very graphic detail I was so embarrassed by it all that I picked up my walking speed quickly.

WARNING: If anything in these stories is triggering or otherwise overwhelming you should give 1800 Respect a call. Or contact Flinders Counselling.

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CONTRIBUTE: These stories are mostly from South Australia. If you have a story you would like to contribute to the blog, send it to rapecultureexists@gmail.com. It will be posted anonymously.

Outbreak of rare virus confirmed as cause of recent dolphin deaths The search for a cause behind the deaths of the numerous dolphins which washed up across South Australian beaches earlier this year seems to have finally reached a successful conclusion. Veterinary pathologist Dr Lucy Woolford from the University of Adelaide worked with the Australian Marine Wildlife Research and Rescue Operation and Biosecurity SA to carry out necropsies on the affected dolphins to establish the cause of death, and virological tests were performed by CSIRO’s Australian Animal Health Laboratory in Geelong. Dr Woolford said in a media release that they identified the cause of the two most recent juvenile dolphin deaths as concurrent infection of dolphin mobillivirus (DMV) and systemic fungal infection. A total of 33 dolphins have been found washed ashore along South Australian beaches since the start of March. It is believed to be the first report of DMV in South Australia; however, it is certainly not the first report in the country, with reports of DMV causing juvenile dolphin deaths along the east and west coasts. DMV belongs to a family of viruses known as the Paramyxoviruses. This family includes a variety of human and animal viruses, such as measles in humans and distemper in canines. In dolphins, DMV is likely transmitted through close contact between dolphins, especially mothers and newborn calves. It results in muscle tremors, problems with swimming and flotation, suppressed immune systems, and brain and lung infections. The suppressed immune

system often leads to secondary infection, either bacterial or fungal. As with all mammal species, for dolphins to survive and mature, it is extremely important that they acquire immunity from their mothers – especially when you consider that dolphins nurse their young for two years! Unfortunately, when a virus is introduced into the equation, and particularly one that thrives through close individual contact, this closeness between a dolphin mother and her calf can turn deadly. Dolphins are social animals, and studies have found that dolphin mothers often rely on other members of their pod to help raise and protect their young. This “village” style of parenting may well lead to an increase in the number of interactions between potentially infected adults, which greatly increases the chance of juveniles with undeveloped immune systems contracting the virus. Add into the mix an algal bloom likely caused by March’s warmer-than-usual water temperatures, the likely culprit behind the mass fish die off, and there is potentially a causal link between some of the dead calves and the sick fish. It may not be clear how every animal died, or how the deaths will affect the dolphin population in the Gulf, but what is clear is that South Australia has some very sick aquatic life on its hands. This may not be the last time we see dolphin carcasses washing upon our shores. Words by Tamara Burt

Quick facts • The Port Stanvac Desalination plant has not been linked to the dolphin deaths throughout the Gulf and salinity levels remain safe. • It is not unusual to find the odd fish, penguin, or dolphin washed ashore. This happens quite regularly due to fluctuating weather patterns and individual reactions to stress. • Necropsies and testing is ongoing, so information may change in the coming weeks. • Dolphin mobillivirus is NOT transmissible to humans.

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Last

Words

or the most part, you don’t have a lot of control over death. When and how you ‘conk it’ remains a mystery. Choosing your last words might be your only scrap of control when leaving this world. First you’ll need to decide the tone of your departure. Most last words tend to be obscure, depressing, humorous or poignant. There are a number of ways to express your dying thoughts. The clichéd, “I love you” and “Live your dreams” have been done a thousand times over. Whilst the sentiment remains touching, why not go for the vague or confusing departure? At least you’ll leave everyone wondering. “Kurt Russell.” - Walt Disney Walt Disney’s last words were not spoken, rather scrawled on a piece of paper that was later found on his body. The origins of “Kurt Russell” remain a mystery. Not even actor Kurt Russell, who was 15 at the time, knows its meaning. “I love you.” - Sean Flannagan Seemingly normal? Well Flannagan made this declaration to his executioner moments before his death. Often last words can take a depressing turn… because, well, you’re dying and it sucks. Why not bring everyone else down? “I’m so bored with it all.” - Winston Churchill Churchill was so contented with these last words; he refused to say anything else for the remaining nine days of his life. Props for his determination.

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“One never knows the ending. One has to die to know exactly what happens after death, although Catholics have their hopes.” - Alfred Hitchcock Depressing? Yes. Relevant? Indeed. Try customising your final words, Hitchcock-style. The successful film director knew how to construct the perfect ending. Many famed for their outlook on death chose a comical perspective. Why impart wisdom, or even tell your family members that you love them, when you can leave your legacy with a pun? James French, convicted murderer and all around bad guy, exclaimed when about to be executed by electric chair: “Hey, fellas! How about this for a headline for tomorrow’s paper? ‘French Fries’!” - James French Voltaire, author of classic novel Candide, chose to take the sassy way out. His last words were in response to a priest asking him to renounce Satan. He stated: “Now, now, my good man, this is no time for making enemies.” - Voltaire

There has been debate over Oscar Wilde’s exact final words. It has been said he stated, “My wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death. One or the other of us has to go.” Another popular variation is, “Either the wallpaper goes, or I do.” Either way, Wilde is a comedic genius.

“My wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death. One or the other of us has to go.” - Oscar Wilde Poignancy is a common indulgence for those approaching death. However, when choosing your own last words, approach with caution. Heartrending declarations can often stumble into mawkish territory. “…it’s better to burn out than to fade away.” - Kurt Cobain Kurt Cobain had time to think through his last words, imparting his final wisdom in his suicide note. Famous lyricist left us with a gem, his words seeping a dramatic truth. But surely when achieving success, your first instinct should be to enjoy it rather than shooting yourself in the head? “All my possessions for a moment of time.” - Elizabeth I, Queen of England Queen Elizabeth I departed this world on the moral high ground. Material possessions are meaningless; time to spend with loved ones is what matters. Touching words, Liz. I’m not sure that the peasants dying of poverty under your ruling in 1603 would agree. Health-care anyone? “Throw a quilt over her.” - Frederick II of Prussia

Frederick II of Prussia shows that you can practice compassion, even with your dying breath. Upon noticing his greyhound shivering, he ordered, “Throw a quilt over her.” This earned him the title of King-ofthe-Greyhounds and contender for Best Man Ever. “No, you certainly can’t.” - John F. Kennedy JFK’s last words were in response to Nellie Connally, wife of Governor John Connelly, who stated, “You certainly can’t say that the people of Dallas haven’t given you a nice welcome, Mr. President.” Literally

seconds later, JFK was assassinated by gun. I don’t know what is sadder, JFK’s irony-laced last words or that I laughed. With anything you do in life, there will be haters. That doesn’t change, even when the grim reaper snatches you from existence. Karl Marx hated the concept of last words, and in response to a request for his last words, he stated: “Go on, get out! Last words are for fools who haven’t said enough!” - Karl Marx Marx makes a good point given Das Kapital is three volumes in length. If you’re lamenting over what last words you should select, maybe you should get a life before you plan your death. If you don’t agree with Marx (don’t worry, not many people do), I’ve come up with some speedy last lines. If you’re unexpectedly dying and need them in a pinch, look no further: 1. “You’ll never find the…” Dramatic gasp. Close Curtain. 2. “I AM THE LINDBERGH BABY.” Extra points if you were born post-kidnapping e.g. 1932. 3. “Don’t RIP me on Facebook.” Not super poignant, but you’ll be doing a public service. 4. “I LOVE LAMP.” If ever in doubt, quote Anchorman. (Last) Words by Katerina Bryant

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Crazy Cat Lady:

Lauren H

ey, my name is Lauren Brice! I’m a crazy cat lady, Instagram junkie and an ordinary member of the FUSA Student Council. Having spent too many of my teenage years at slumber parties watching American movies, I wanted my university experience to be like that of an American college. When I started at Flinders last year I wondered where are the frat parties? This is our uni bar? Why are there no people on campus? And how do I get involved so that I can help improve our campus culture? This year I have given out more free FUSA pens than I can count, attended six hour long Student Council meetings and begged more people to buy pub crawl shirts than I could have ever imagined. But it has all been worth it to have my input on many aspects of campus life. So far, I’ve organised the Empire Times launch party and helped out with free barbeques on campus, bands playing in the plaza and O’Week. In fact I’ve probably met you; and by met you, I mean tried to give you a FUSA pamphlet whilst complaining about the fact I have to wear a polo shirt. Just FYI, orange is not my colour. Whilst these are some of the only things students actually SEE us doing, a lot goes on behind the scenes. Currently, I’m in charge of organising the Flinders Ball, to be held on the 18th of October, so get your ball gowns and your suits ready! Throughout

high school, students look forward to their formal; getting dressed up and having the greatest night of their schooling experience. I am so excited that we get to relive the experience this year with the Flinders Ball. Frequently I hear students complaining that nothing happens at Flinders and it’s “just, like, so totally lame,” but, more often than not, these are the students that don’t go looking for clubs to join or pub crawls to go on, and who say they can’t be bothered going to parties on campus. Recently we began planning events for the first week of Semester 2. In the cards at the moment is a Totally 80s themed party, paint party, comedy night, quiz night and karaoke night! Who says nothing goes on at Flinders? So next time you or your friends are making some snotty remark about FUSA, events on campus or that you hate university, maybe you should look around at everything that goes on! Come into the FUSA hub and grab an events calendar so we can hang out and talk about what we should wear to the ball. Lauren Brice FUSA Oridinary Memeber

Photography from the ET launch party by Cara Ferguson and Charles Chiam Chuang Chao

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Our Working Conditions Are Your Learning Conditions L

earning conditions for students and working conditions for staff are in a very close relationship – each is affected by the other, regardless of whether a problem is caused by the place, the space, the time, the heat or cold, the size of the class, or its complexity. Should the recently announced cuts to higher education funding result in larger class sizes, it won’t just increase tutors’ workload, but it will also mean less individual attention for students. There will also be a decrease in time for important face-to-face feedback on assignments. The supreme irony is the timing of these higher education cuts. They come on the tail of the same government’s endorsement of the “Bradley Review,” which sought to increase the numbers of students in universities, creating a greater number of places and increasing diversity of student background. The proposed expansion has happened, and university staff, both academic and professional, are working hard to meet the increased workload. To now reduce the funding and resources for these large cohorts of students flies in the face of the original intention and will undoubtedly affect the quality of education they receive. The effect of these cuts may exacerbate a number of other problems. The number of students going through the university system has risen without a commensurate rise in staff or resources. This has an impact on how much individual time tutors can spend marking, responding to student emails, and constructing and practising engaging pedagogy. As a result, our work-life balance gets out of kilter and we are put in a position where we have to decide between our responsibilities to our families and our obligations to colleagues and students. We can’t invent more time in which to work. Something has to give, and we don’t want it to be the quality of students’ education. Both here at Flinders and across the nation’s universities, fifty percent of face-to-face teaching is now done by “casuals:” staff who do not have a permanent job. Casual staff have little support and no job security, and are undervalued and overworked,

often feeling alienated as a consequence. They are an invisible underclass of worker. It has been suggested that an online remedy to replace or supplement tutors’ work is the answer to this problem, but this is not the case. It will only make face-to-face learning, which has been consistently shown to be the most effective teaching method, the exception rather than the rule. An online remedy to replace or supplement tutors’ work will affect the quality of both teaching and learning, while fifty percent of your teachers are treated so badly you will not receive the education you deserve. So, what are we doing about it? The National Tertiary Education Union (NTEU) is the trade union that represents staff exclusively in higher education, and we are deeply concerned about the impact on students of increasing workloads, understaffing, and inadequate resourcing. The Flinders University Enterprise Agreement, the document that sets down our working conditions including workload limits and conditions for casual staff, is due to be renegotiated by the NTEU and Flinders senior management this year. We are vigorously pursuing remedies to staff overwork and fair treatment of ‘casual’ staff. During this time, staff may feel that management aren’t taking our concerns seriously enough and we may ultimately be left with no opttion to encourage a resolution but to take strike action, or institute some other form of industrial action. Industrial action has frequently been the only way for workers to make their voices heard and bring about important changes. While hard and inconvenient for all concerned, some hardship and inconvenience now can mean better education in the future. We care about the quality of your education. When the time comes we hope you will stand with us in demanding fair and reasonable working conditions, because your learning conditions are in the balance too. Words by Ron Slee, NTEU Flinders Branch President & Prospective Student Advisor

[19]

A Postgrad Interview T

he Postgraduate Officer of FUSA, Kingsley Whittenbury, was interested to know about postgraduate activities at the University prior to the introduction of the Student Services and Amenities Fee. He was introduced to student and postgraduate representative, Joe Provenzano. Kingsley: Before Flinders University Student Association (FUSA) was funded, the Flinders University Post Graduate Student Society (PGSS) was set up to represent the different needs and concerns of Flinders postgraduates. Can you outline the main issues that were brought to the attention of the PGSS at that time? Joe: The main issue is and remains independent student advocacy. The main concerns of RHD/Postgraduate students are based around a bundle of issues involving personal and academic issues. It was rare to have a student email or phone us based on one concern. Yes, we did have students contact us for information on bookbinding or course content, but that was the exception. The bulk of students issues were around housing, social security, transport, visa issues, relationship problems, family court issues, legal issues, plagiarism, supervision issues, personality issues, disability issues, discrimination issues, monetary issues and so on. Students would turn to the PGSS as either the first point of call or the last call. There were no cases that I can remember that were an intermediate call. Meaning that they were interested in the PGSS to act in a conciliatory role. Also it fair to say that it wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t just students that turned to the PGSS for help. Though the NTEU (National Tertiary Education Union) is present at the University we did find ourselves giving advice to staff. So PGSS isnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t strictly a student only society. Kingsley: Now in 2013, we have the Flinders University Student Association (FUSA) and the university funded Office for Postgraduate Research (OPG) that both have a range of advocacy services. Which postgraduate students have the weakest voice? And what would be your advice to the services attempting to provide equity of access? Joe: The weakest voices on campus are those of disabled individuals. With postgraduates the weakest voice would be the older postgraduate cohort that identifies as disabled. My advice would be that an independently funded postgraduate student body would better represent this cohort. If we truly wish to see equity to educational access, then we need to give voice to silenced students. Postgraduate representation is limited within the current FUSA structure, with just one postgraduate on the FUSA council. However, with moves to have a postgraduate subcommittee, I feel that FUSA is trying to address my concerns here. Ultimately having an independent, autonomous and well-funded postgraduate student body should be the next major step that Flinders, FUSA and the new subcommittee embarks on. Kingsley: Flinders One is another agency on Flinders campus that is university funded to provide hospitality, security, and sports amenities to students. Given the late hours that many research, higher degree students spend on campus, are they being well accommodated by Flinders One? Joe: It is a good question and I would say that from past feedback that the issues are centred on lack of accessibility to food and security. Kingsley: Is PGSS satisfied with the process of their negotiations with University Council in regards the to changes to student services at Flinders? Joe: The PGSS and postgraduate cohort got a raw deal. Provisions should have been made to have an independent student body. I have heard that the University was not interested in having this provision. I think an inquiry would expose what did transpire. Kingsley: Was PGSS involved in any campaigns, local or national, in recent years and can you tell us how effective these were? Joe: The PGSS through the Council of Australian Postgraduate Associations (CAPA) and Flinders One have been involved in getting student services and amenities funding. Bear in mind that our last budget was $500. That equated to approximately 16 cents per postgraduate representation.

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Kingsley Whittenbury, FUSA Postgraduate Officer

Artwork by Darren Green[21]

High Tea Words and photography by Sarah Gates

ute. It’s the first word that comes to mind when anyone mentions “high tea.”

A couple of years ago, I couldn’t have told you what it was. Now, my mother has been to high tea weddings, birthday parties, cafés, and random catch-ups with friends. She bakes enough miniature cheesecakes to feed every student at Flinders for about a year. Clearly it’s a trend; one that I’m inclined to love, even though I still haven’t attended a single high tea. As far as I can tell, it is simply an excuse for decadence. High tea began in England with the invention of gas lighting in the 1840s. With dinner occurring later and later, urban legend suggests that a duchess demanded a light meal be served with her tea in the late afternoon. The custom became a tradition and a formal social gathering for friends. The name “high tea,” however, originates from the servants’ meal after the ladies had finished their tea. It has evolved to mean the fancy serving of tea and tiny foods. Whatever its history, high tea in Adelaide is feminine crockery and tiny desserts; maybe flowers, pearls, and other beautiful things, depending on the level

[22]

Ten lidded two-handled cups, fluted bodies with painted flowers and gilding, Marked “Dresden, Made in Germany.” Ovington Bros. retail mark. C. 1900 (six only).

Part tea set, cream and gilt, seven cups and ten saucers marked “Limoges” (chips and cracks) c. 1890.

of commitment. Venues and events are cropping up all over Adelaide, catering for women looking for a relaxed, elegant way to socialise. With more indulgence than a dessert bar, it certainly beats skirting around broken bottles and angry drunks on Hindley Street. Hosting, or even participating in, a high tea is a lot of work. It requires a tidy and well-decorated venue, exquisite contributions from every guest, and a little more class than your beaten blue jeans can offer. At a venue, it can be quite costly – especially for a quality experience. Given that it isn’t actually a meal, I’ve never been able to justify such an expense. Unfortunately, it’s unlikely high tea will catch on with your average, impoverished student. But I’m sure this trend will rise again, given the cyclic nature of all good fashions. When I picture future-Sarah (retired and living in a quaint house in the quiet suburbs of Adelaide), I see her hosting extravagant high teas; with adorable cupcakes, pink teacups, and hopefully food cooked by my robot chef. (I’m a terrible cook, and it is the future, after all.)

Crockery made available by the Flinders Library Special Collections. Go check out what they’ve got. Seriously, they have awesome resources for every degree; plus some pretty random knick-knacks!

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Promising To Pack A

Punch

Words by Madeline Reece

t seems to be a common assumption amongst most exhibition goers that when a gallery holds a retrospective exhibition, the creator is already six feet under. As the satirical title of Flinders University City Gallery’s current exhibition Not Dead Yet suggests, Chips Mackinolty and Therese Ritchie are far from dead and buried. They are still kicking about the place and they’ll make sure everyone knows it too. Developed by Anita Angel, curator of Charles Darwin University Art Collection and Art Gallery, this landmark exhibition examines the poignant graphic art of protest of Chips Mackinolty and Therese Ritchie. For the past forty odd years, Mackinolty and Ritchie have been fundamental figures to Australia’s political poster movement, creating bold and often humorous works that have served to “rally the troops” by exposing fiery social and political issues – issues that are often muted, misrepresented or just downright ignored by the mainstream media. Not Dead Yet revisits the artists’ involvement and influence, showcasing screen-prints, posters, drawings, photographs, digital collages and fine art prints and paintings from the late 1960’s through to the present day. The initial display at Charles Darwin University featured over 160 artworks. The Flinders University City Gallery exhibits a smaller, but very comprehensive, selection. A salon style display plasters the gallery walls; the density complimenting the original intent of the works. You can imagine some of Mackinolty’s early works such as Pig Iron Bob Dead at Last from 1978 and Make Life Impossible created in 1976 tiled across an alleyway or building as they were originally.

Therese Ritchie, Shortgrass people 3, 2003, inkjet print.

Mackinolty and Ritchie met in Darwin in the early 1980s through the Werehaus Artist’ Collective. As Angel states in her catalogue essay, “Working together, sideways and apart, [Ritchie and Mackinolty] have captured the lives, landscapes and major events that have defined the [Northern Territory] both as ‘home’ and as an enduring Australian frontier.” Within their joint and individual artistic ventures they highlight sensitive Australian issues, including human rights, land rights, indigenous health, eco-politics, mining and policing. There are some very iconic works featured within the exhibition including Mackinolty’s widely circulated 1985 screen-print Nyuntu Anangu maruku ngurangka ngarany (You are on Aboriginal Land) which protested for and eventually commemorated the recognition of Aboriginal land rights with the hand-back of Uluru. There is a strong focus on the racial prejudice of people in Australia’s far north, but also Australia’s nation-wide sense of bigotry. Ritchie’s inkjet print piece Shortgrass people 3 captures a Caucasian gentleman, beer gut out in the tiniest of shorts, drinking a tinny on the side of the road. A typical Australian, right? Ritchie illustrates that if this was an Indigenous Australian, the authorities would have been all over it like a heat rash. This only skims the surface of the racial discrimination against Indigenous Australians. Not Dead Yet is not just a celebration of the huge oeuvre Chips Mackinolty and Therese Ritchie have produced over the past four decades. This exhibition demonstrates how art still has the ability communicate, to educate, to shock and to make us listen. Not Dead Yet promises to pack a punch. Not Dead Yet is on show at the Flinders University City Gallery until July 14.

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Chips Mackinolty, Pig Iron Bob dead at last, 1979, screen-print.

[25] Artwork by Jess Dangerfield

Protesting The Largest Funding Cuts In 17 Years

Photography by James Vigus and SA Unions

[26]

Student Walkout on Budget Day O

n Tuesday, May 14th, students across Australia mobilised in great number in a national strike against Labor’s cuts to tertiary education. The National Union of Students (NUS) called the strike in response to the biggest funding cuts in 17 years. To summarize what’s happening, $2.8 billion is being ripped from higher education, supposedly to fund schools. Staff will be fired; courses and topics will be cut. Start-up scholarships for students on Youth Allowance are being scrapped. The scholarship is becoming a loan added to HECS/HELP. This means poorer students will leave university with more debt than their rich counterparts. This is just the latest step in Labor’s neo-liberal agenda, where the poor pay for Australia’s debt and the rich roll around in their money. Westpac just announced record profits; Gina Rinehart, Clive Palmer, and their friends still don’t pay their share in tax. Earlier this month, The Age revealed tax office data which showed that the ultrarich easily and legally avoid tax. Gillard’s government has spent over $24 billion on the military in the last year, and will likely spend a further $3 billion on a spy drone fleet to intercept asylum seeker boats. Yes, public schools are underfunded, but the money to fund them can be found right where the government left it: in Rinehart’s pockets, in new warplanes, and drones. Here in Adelaide, more than 300 students and staff came out to oppose the cuts at a cross-campus rally held at the University of Adelaide. Representatives from the NTEU and SA Unions denounced the effects the cuts will have on education and staff conditions. Greens MP Tammy Franks spoke up in support of the movement. Students were represented too: I represented Flinders, and Catherine Story represented Adelaide. The crowd responded when I spoke about expropriating wealthy parasites to fund public education and when Catherine condemned Labor’s “efficiency dividend” and its impact on students. Messages of support from across the country were read, and we marched through the campus. The action was successful, but could have been made much better if the Flinders University Student Association (FUSA) had supported the event. On the same day, protests happened around Australia. In Perth there were two rallies, with

700 people attending at Curtin, a university once through to be devoid of student politics, and 50 at the University of Western Australia. The success at Curtin was due to the committed left wing activists in the student guild, who campaigned for months in the lead-up to the event, making inserts for the student paper, covering the university with promotional posters, distributing flyers, utilizing the digital screens in the cafes on campus, flying sizable banners from the student guild building, holding regular information stalls, and inviting clubs to hold stalls on the day. The Curtin Student Guild has set the example to follow, and if we want to fight the cuts at Flinders we need a Student Association that will commit to take the same kinds of action. In Melbourne, 3,000 students and staff from multiple campuses gathered at the State Library. After hearing a number of speakers, the protestors then marched along Swanston Street, down to Federation Square. In Sydney, the NTEU called a strike for the same day. Students assisted on the staff picket line, which was subsequently attacked by riot police on the instruction of the Sydney University Administration, who allegedly broke the leg of one student and strangled another. What happened at Sydney shows clearly that the Administration aren’t our friends in this fight. Vice-Chancellors around the country condemned cuts one minute, but then turned around and attacked the very people fighting against them! At Adelaide, after telling me how the uni supported our cause, a member of the administration threatened to have security drag me from campus if I continued to give students information about the cuts. At Flinders, even before the cuts were announced, the Vice-Chancellor and the administration have shown how willing they are to cut staff and topics. Our allies are the staff and NTEU, not the administration. What Labor’s offering is bullshit, and if Abbott wins the election things will only get worse for students. Australian students pay some of the highest fees in the world. We need something different. Education is a right, not a luxury for those who can afford it. To defend education against Labor’s attacks, we need a fighting student movement. Words by Grace Hill

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ThĂŠofile Bachelor of J&S 2nd year What would be your chosen superpower? And how would you use it? Immortality. Do you collect anything? If yes, what do you collect? Old video games: Atari, Nitendo. Do you have any habits you wish you could break? Agoraphobia.

Sonia Bachelor of Business 1st year What song/artist pumps you up? Tape Five. Do you collect anything? If yes, what do you collect? Boxes and Minerals. Which actor/actress would play you in a movie about your life? Emilia Clarke.

Patrick Bachelor of Science 1st year What is your favourite TV show? Doctor Who. What would be your chosen superpower? And how would you use it? Time manipulation. Do you have any habits you wish you could break? Hope.

Omar Social Work and Planning 1st year If you could be anywhere else in the world right now, where would you be? In Africa. What would be your chosen superpower? And how would you use it? Minister. Do you have any habits you wish you could break? Stop drinking so much.

Matt Education 1st year What is your favourite TV show? Californication/Mad Men/Skins. If you could be anywhere else in the world right now, where would you be? Sailing around the Pacific, chasing an endless summer and surfing. Do you collect anything? If yes, what do you collect? $100 bills.

Jim Bachelor of Education 1st year What would be your chosen superpower? And how would you use it? Force powers. I want to be a Jedi! Do you have any habits you wish you could break? Smoking. I should really quit! Which actor/actress would play you in a movie about your life? Tom Jane â&#x20AC;&#x201C; especially as The Punisher.

Muliadi Postgraduate Student 2nd year What would be your chosen superpower? And how would you use it? Smile and kindness, I love to help people. I consider a smile would help people to when theyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re in a bad day. Which actor/actress would play you in a movie about your life? Robert Downey Jr.

Kevin Bachelor of Intl Studies 3rd year What is your favourite TV show? The Project. If you could be anywhere else in the world right now, where would you be? Switzerland. Do you have any habits you wish you could break? Procrastination.

[29]

WIN!

Complete the crossword and send a picture of your answers to stephanie.walker@flinders.edu. au to win one of 10 free double passes to Palace Nova.

ACROSS 1. Shark! 3. Cute robot 8. Brazilian crime 9. Death Star 13. Cocaine and Miami 14. Cars and toothpicks 17. Talking rabbits, time travel, and Jake Gyllenhaal 19. First Rule 21. Dreams and Guns 22. Patrick Bateman 23. Swords/sandals epic

28. Best film ever? 30. Sigourney Weaver 32. Giant robots 33. Mafia 70s 36. Woody Allen rom-com 37. Vietnam and Charlie Sheen 38. Assemble! 40. Germanyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s last days 41. Party on Garth! 42. Two hitmen stuck in Europe city after bad hit 43. Mysterious tiger on raft

DOWN 2. Brad Pitt as boxer 4. 2.7 billion 5. Buzz Lightyear 6. Bill Murray time repeating 7. White mask killers 10. A legendary journey 11. French girl 12. Play it again Sam 15. Monty Python comedy 16. Animated lions 17. Jim Carrey and Jeff Daniels 18. Two women fall in love 20. Heroin

24. Now I have a machine gun too... 25. Tom Hanks 26. Ice hockey player turned golfer 27. Deadly sins 29. The Wachowski Brothers 31. Intertwining storylines 33. Arnie on a mission to Mars 34. Mafia 90s 35. In the Colosseum 39. Jigsaw

Spotlight: T

The Neo-80s

here’s nothing remarkable regarding action movies of the 21st century. Whatever imagination the genre once had was sucked dry. Instead it became overly influenced by 9/11, counter terrorism motifs and CGI. What action has meant in the last decade is crisp, clean, over produced, over budgeted, PG 13 (the M rating here being its equivalent) “blockbusters.” These are essentially violent movies without the violence. They certainly have their fair share of explosions and gunfire, but these lack grit and style. Even on-screen punch ups have turned into highly co-ordinated dance routines. RoboCop (1987) provides a contrast to the sterilised action of the 2000s. Compare the relatively forgettable gunplay of Die Hard 4.0 (2007) and Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (2008) with the opening board meeting of RoboCop. As the ED-209 pummels an executive with bullets, each shot delivers a colourful burst of cinema blood. The scene is over-the-top, but the theatrics and stylisation is what truly delivers. It may be unrealistic, though the word realism in today’s entertainment media is often code for bland and “kid-friendly.” What happened to action cinema? Since the late 1990s, it seems that the concerned, morally outraged brigade of obnoxious parents won their battle against violence in films. However, a reasonable explanation is found in Hollywood’s bottom line. These days, R-rated action simply doesn’t attract a wide enough audience to warrant being made. Until it manages to overtake brands such as the Fast & Furious and hold its own up against Marvel and DC franchises, there won’t be a revival any time soon. Last year’s Dredd was one such title that took a gamble with its rating. Despite being a breath of fresh air on the scene, it had mediocre box office results. But it comes as a recommendation for those that still think of titles such as Aliens (1986) and Die Hard (1988) when they hear the word “action.” The genre peaked during the 1980s and early 1990s. During this time it produced titles such as The Terminator (1984), Total Recall (1990), Rambo: First Blood (1980) and Blade Runner (1982). These

movies all shared stylistic and plot elements, creating a somewhat cohesive identity to the period. This includes the soundtrack, influenced by the iconic synthetic keyboards of 80s pop. The music, fashion and scenery helped to create dystopian futures that were unique to the 80s. It often reflected the fear of atomic warfare, modern consumerism and the sheer terror of an uncertain future. Although the wider scope of these VHS classics didn’t all include sci-fi elements, those that did complemented the mainstream culture of the time. These films were about the future of the 80s, not just of mankind. Likewise, the more straight forward action of the era was of its own kind, in much the same way. It was trashy, but fun. These films didn’t take themselves seriously and, because of that, they were all the more entertaining to watch. The one-liners, gags and eccentric villains were what added colour to a title. Directors understood that the audience needed a break from the action, unless the whole film was to become monotone and ironically dull. Thankfully, this brand of light-hearted fun made its way into The Avengers and other Marvel pictures. Joss Whedon, himself, is almost a time-capsule for the “buddycop” elements of the period. What 80s action has over the movies of today is vibrancy. The genre in its modern incarnation has lost all sense of fun. No longer is there thematic violence, comedy or style to make a film stand out. It had attempted to take itself too seriously and appeal to an infinite audience. As a result, modern action films have taken a step down from “mind-numbing violence” to simply “mind-numbing.” Words by Dorian Bašić

Flim Reviews B

efore watching director Derek Cianfrance’s The Place Beyond the Pines, the only thing I knew was that it starred Ryan Gosling. I would just like to start by saying, ladies, do not see this film just for Ryan or after the first 56 minutes you will be severely disappointed. That being said, as Cianfrance’s second feature film, The Place Beyond the Pines is a remarkable feat. The film is a crime drama encompassing three distinct plots, sprawled over seventeen years. Leading the first act is Ryan Gosling as Luke Glanton, an emotionally damaged motorcycle stuntman working for a travelling fair. His story starts when the fair arrives in Schenectady, New York (Schenectady incidentally meaning ‘place beyond the pines’ in a native American language). Luke runs into Romina (Eva Mendes), with whom he had a one night stand with the previous year. He discovers that she has given birth to his son, who is now six months old. Luke ceremoniously quits his dangerous profession and decides to stick around to care for his son, Jason. The only problem is that Romina is living with another man who is less than thrilled by Luke’s threatening presence. With no job and nowhere to live, Luke befriends local repair man and loner Robin (Ben Mendlesohn). Robin seems to be a character of convenience for Cianfrance, proposing almost immediately that Luke start robbing banks with him. This idea surely merits more discussion than the audience actually sees. Eventually the bank robberies escalate and Luke finds himself pursued by inexperienced police officer Avery Cross (Bradley Cooper). From here on Avery is the focus of the second act. Cooper easily delivers the most convincing performance in the entire film. He is a guilt-ridden cop who, in trying to do the right thing, becomes almost as bad as his enemies. Fifteen years later, Luke’s son Jason (Dane DeHaan) and Avery’s son AJ (Emory Cohen) are seventeen and attending the same high school. The focus is

now on the two teens, both of whom are struggling to stay on track. AJ appears to have smoked way too much cannabis in his short lifetime, in another irritating example of Hollywood portraying only the worst side of the teen demographic. Neither of the boys are aware of their fathers’ intertwined histories, but, when the puzzle pieces fall into place, Jason becomes violent and revengeful. Robin makes another pointless appearance, telling Jason all about what a wonderful man his father was. This is confusing, considering that Robin’s last interaction with Luke resulted in him being held at gunpoint and having his money stolen. Despite so many unnecessary scenes, the 140 minute film somehow only skims the surface of these characters and their relationships. Although the linear storyline left a lot to the imagination, I did find it quite refreshing to see a film that didn’t use flash-backs. Although it is compelling most of the way through, The Place Beyond the Pines burns out towards the end, unfortunately losing my interest in the section intended to link everything together. Despite the overly ambitious plot, the film is held together by the wonderful acting, cinematography and score which definitely make it worth seeing. The beautiful images of Luke, and later Jason, riding along pine lined roads, accompanied by the beautiful and eerie score composed by Mike Patton, will be enough to keep at least cinematography lovers engaged until the end. Words by Annie Robinson

appiness Never Comes Alone, directed by James Huth, stars Sophie Marceau (The World is Not Enough, Braveheart) as Charlotte, career-focused mother of three. Opposite her is Gad Elmaleh as Sacha (who you may recognise as “the guy who played opposite Audrey Tautou in Priceless”), a freespirited musician and all-round ladies’ man. Despite their vast differences, they find that they’re perfect for one another. Sacha is a jazz pianist by night and jingle composer by day, who happens to pitch a song to the company where Charlotte works. Sacha and one of his best friends, Laurent, played by Maurice Barthélémy, are also writing a show; with Sacha on piano, Laurent handling the visual side. This is their “dream” and they have one month before they pitch their show to a local theatre. Naturally, it is at the beginning of this month that Sacha and Charlotte first meet. The humour is a little more slapstick than you might expect from French cinema; the protagonists are introduced when the adorably clutzy Charlotte attempts to adjust her long scarf, gets it caught in her high heel and falls face first into the rainsplattered pavement. The love story continues in this light hearted fashion, prompting many a decent chuckle and, in fact, several snorts from the woman sitting in the row behind me. It wouldn’t be a rom-com without a few fumbles, leading to the couple’s tragic demise around twothirds of the way into the film. While they’re more original than the plot devices you’d normally see in this genre, they’re still certainly the kind of thing that would have my grandmother shouting “WHY?!” at the screen.

nlike your usual “blow out their mindless brains” zombie movie, Warm Bodies is narrated by one of the cold bodied zombies, who certainly does have a mind of his own. This unusual and original approach certainly puts a different spin on the whole idea of zombies. The main zombie character is only known as R (Nicholas Hoult) because he cannot remember his full name. He shuffles around an abandoned airport with a bunch of other zombies, while the remaining population, those that aren’t dead, live inside a heavily fortified village. When R munches on the brain of the boyfriend of Julie (Teresa Palmer), he begins to find himself experiencing completely new feelings that just shouldn’t be possible for a heartless zombie. The makeup most certainly convinces you that these guys are dead, especially when they transition from just your ordinary, run-of-the-mill zombie to being one of the “bonies.” These guys are born once a zombie had lost all will and hope of humanity, and let themselves descend into oblivion, becoming even more ruthless and heartless than before – a problem for everyone else, zombies included. In spite of a limited exchange of dialogue and a few grunts, Hoult and Palmer create a wonderful spark of chemistry between R and Julie. John Malkovich plays the bad guy perfectly well, yet again, as the zombie-hating father of Julie, with only one objective and not much love left in his own heart.

Overall? If you like romantic comedies, this film has a refreshing take on the genre. If you enjoy French cinema, this is a fun flick which might even have you – or the woman behind you – snorting in laughter.

In a weird way, Warm Bodies actually breathes new life into Shakespeare’s classic story of Romeo and Juliet. The sweet and slightly squeamish romance is enough to get anyone’s heart racing, even an entire colony of dead guys. It even has its moments of humour and, of course, the compulsory gore that goes hand in hand with the word ‘zombie.’ So, overall, this movie should please everybody as it’s got a little bit of everything – romance and guts and gore.

Words by Cara Solly

Words by Nikki Klindzic

Theatre review:

Hedda Gabler

he State Theatre Company’s Hedda Gabler is a modern adaption of Norwegian playwright Henrik Ibsen’s original, first published in 1890. The star of the play is its characters. At first appearance, Hedda Gabler (Alison Bell) has ‘spunk.’ She is 100% unapologetic about being what she is: different, provocative, unhappy. As the play progresses, you realise something else: Hedda is out-of-her-mind crazy. Her most loved possessions are her guns, inherited from her father. She uses her backyard as a shooting range, even when visitors are walking up its path. She is unashamedly bored by her husband, Jorgen Tessman (Cameron Goodall), despite being just six months into their marriage. With each male visitor, she reminisces upon past times – specifically sleeping with every man in town, including the couple’s lawyer, Judge Brack (Terence Crawford). There seems no solution to her unhappiness. She withers away in an empty house with her blissfully naïve and academic husband. Hedda occupies

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herself by manipulating the lives of those around her. However, she struggles to decide whether she wishes to destroy or improve their lives. First she aids Thea Elvested (Kate Cheel) in reuniting with her lover, Eilert Lovborg (Nathan O’Keefe); and then she tears them apart, destroying Thea’s lifework and triggering Eilerts alcoholism. She kisses Eilert, and then she hands him the gun that he’ll use to end his own life. Hedda is a complex character. Bell’s characterisation was extraordinarily compelling. Despite being a class-A bitch, Bell forces the audience to fall in love with her. She is fragile and idealistic, stubborn and intelligent. Her actions are completely unpredictable; from her cruel insults of Aunt Julie (Carmel Johnson), to her *spoiler alert* violent and sudden suicide at the end of the play. There is not a weak link in the cast. Each character has moments of tragedy and hilarity. Every one of them is lovable, despite their obvious flaws. Goodall’s excitement causes ripples of laughter through the audience. He literally jumps for joy when receiving a position at the university. He squeals

with delight at reading Eilert’s history of civilisation. Their honeymoon was an excursion of libraries, researching for his book on the domestic hierarchies of past cultures. O’Keefe is pleasure to watch. Coming to this show from his starring role in Pinocchio, it is entirely different to experience him in a drama. A whole other side of him is exposed. As Eilert, he is a hopelessly tortured mind. Not only are they amazingly talented, the cast of Hedda Gabler attend the Red Carpet Party and greet their audience. A Red Carpet subscription or one-off ticket, for those between 18 and 30 years old, grants young theatre-goers a chance to gush over the actors after a show. Left, right, and centre, you will see aspiring actors and arts enthusiasts with shocked expressions, probably standing opposite Alison Bell. A simple ‘congratulations’ or ‘loved the performance’ is enough to entice the cast into conversation. Finally, those questions answered about the mysterious characters, secrets of rehearsals and the elusive life of an actor.

Each party has something exciting in store; be it jelly shots, badges, or decorative unicorns (all of which made an appearance at last year’s parties). For this show, the Red Carpet Party was held in the Rehearsal Room. Attendees were rewarded with a miniature version of the set and a DJ spinning some wonderfully original remixes. All in all, the show is a must – and the party is a cool bonus. So next time a State Theatre Company play comes around, take a group of friends along. Get the chance to dress up, chat to awesome people, listen to some music, sip some wine, and have a good time.

Words by Sarah Gates Photography by Shane Reid

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Music Reviews Mice Parade - What it Means to be Left-Handed

ice Parade is an indie/shoegaze band led by American percussionist Adam Pierce. The band released its first album, The True Meaning of Boodleybaye, in 1998, and has developed its sound over the years with preternatural songs like the crashing Nights Wave (Bem-Vinda Vontade, 2005) and the cool, smooth Tales of Las Negras (Mice Parade, 2007). The band members seem to change with every album, adding new languages and musical aesthetics to the sound in Mice Parade’s 2010 album release, What it Means to be Left-Handed. The album commences with the familiar smooth qualities as its predecessors, but after it warms up, some truly heart-stopping tracks reach the surface. It leans towards simpler, more popular influences in tracks like Mallow Cup and Even, with a clean melody and distorted guitar, but these songs nicely frame the mad complexity of others. Mice Parade combines surprising rhythms and countermelodies, using various world instruments, until the song is drenched in colour and texture. Dual flamenco guitars play intricate patterns around each other, flinging chords into the air like garlands of sparks. Instruments climb on top of each other, dropping out to expose a single sweet sound before rushing back in again. Typically of the shoegazing movement, the vocals are most often secondary to other instruments, joining the ensemble on equal

ground. A listener may only catch glimpses of the simple but beautiful lyrics while being drawn to other sounds. The album is heavily influenced by music from all over the world, using less common instruments like the mandolin and earthy pitched percussion. The first song on the album, Kupanda, uses the warm tones of African female vocals, other songs use the childlike vocals of American-Japanese singer Caroline Lufkin. Both vocalists blend well with Adam Pierce’s casually passionate voice, which links together most of the songs. Tokyo Late Night and Old Hat are the two stand-out tracks, collages of pitched percussion and vocals. Tokyo Late Night juxtaposes an electronic organ with snippets of a distorted recording of a man speaking in Japanese. The drums kick in, marching and rolling over themselves, and the high notes of the piano twinkle at the top of the sound while the low notes thunder beneath them. Old Hat pulls tension between each blunt slash of the hi-hats; notes run up and down the guitar strings and voices rise, suspended above everything else. The piano drops through the music as if into water. Listening to this album is like holding someone in the midst of a storm: the cool vocals are a point of tranquillity to cling to amid the chaos of the other instruments. It’s unlike anything else I’ve heard. Words by Miranda Richardson

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Jay Hoad – Home Is Where The Heart Is

ijian-born multi-instrumentalist Jay Hoad has so many genres under his belt that it’s likely to snap at any moment, showering pure musical beauty down on us all. In the past twelve months Hoad has toured in many locations across the world, both solo and with his band. While on tour, he wrote many of the songs found on his third album, Home Is Where The Heart Is. Recorded in Sydney, the album was funded through a Pozible campaign – a testament to the enthusiasm and loyalty of Hoad’s growing fan base, and the rise of independence within the music industry. The album opens with Like Gremlins, an upbeat acoustic number with a chorus that bounces inside your head for days. A simple honesty is at the core of this song; from here it spreads out and permeates the entire album, connecting all the tracks into a whole, living thing. Island Boy describes itself: “roots and reggae with a tropical rhythm.” And it’s so pure, there’s really nothing more to say. Three songs in, the question does presents itself: is this all there is? Thirteen blissfully happy tracks is a bit much, surely. Suddenly, there’s a huge, bewildering mash of noise that emerges as Power of the Rock, the album’s first single (available as a free download on Triple J Unearthed). John Butler is a clear influence in the sliding, gritty guitarwork. Vocally, Hoad unleashes a huge power that complements the driving strength of the song. This track also introduces didgeridoo, one of his most commonly-used instruments. Hoad’s versatility is apparent throughout Home Is Where The Heart Is, and yet, as anyone who has seen him live will attest, it is only a teasing glimpse at the innovation and variety of which he is capable. An Adelaide local, Hoad will be touring South Australia throughout June. Go to http://jayhoadband.com/ for tour dates and tickets. Words by Rowina Edwards

Kaki King – Glow

aki King is a severely underrated guitarist, both technically and creatively. When I was in Year 12, I kept her 2008 album, Dreaming of Revenge, on repeat while I was studying. It was the only CD that kept me focussed on study and productivity. Her new album, Glow, shares similar qualities to Dreaming of Revenge. King is an American guitarist that has dabbled in a range of genres, combining rock, folk, indie and jazz on her previous albums. She has toured both as a solo performer and with a band. The thing that sets King apart from other artists is that, despite having quite a nice voice, most of her songs are instrumental. Glow is entirely instrumental. This is a return to the style of her earlier albums; after her 2010 release, Junior, was primarily rock. In Glow, King uses many different cultural influences. Bowen Island has a traditional oriental feel, while King Pizel is influenced by Celtic music. King uses a two-handed guitar technique inspired by acoustic guitarist Preston Reed. This includes fret-tapping and using the body of her guitar to supplement the melodies, enabling her very percussive style. This is at the heart of why her instrumental songs work and are so interesting. They build and swell, creating drama and emotion, which more than makes up for the lack of lyrics. It is a huge credit to King that her songs are able to evoke imagination and take the listener on a journey, despite being purely instrumental. Glow is the perfect album to study to. Balancing on the edge, between relaxation and vigour, there is just the right amount of movement to keep you working hard and staying focussed. Study aside, Glow is another strong album to add to King’s ever-growing list of accomplishments.

Words by Elizabeth Daw

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Let Yourself Be Free: Watch The Voice

Words by TheLaughingBard

hilosopher and judge, Seal, walks like a god amongst all who surround him. Ricky Martin spreads his charm like fairy dust, wooing frustrated women without breaking a latino-sweat (which would only increase the effectiveness of the wooing). Joel Madden relentlessly tongues a toothpick, for some unknown reason, and Delta Goodrem’s breasts are revealed from various angles throughout, as she lounges deliberately in her judge’s chair. This is the setting for The Greatest Show Involving Voices, Ever. Or so they’d have you believe from their melodramatic marketing. Still, there are many reasons, real or staged, to watch The Voice. The competition. The drama. The intensity. The crying. Ricky Martin. Delta Goodrem’s breasts. But perhaps the most entertaining aspect of it all (apart from the voices, of course) is the enlightenment the judges attempt to impart on the contestants. Seal is constantly dropping wisdombombs on unsuspecting contestants, saying things like “I’m not talking about winning the competition. I’m talking about winning life,” and my favourite piece of advice ever: “You have to have an air about you that makes them go… ‘Shit!’” You can see the contestants struggling to take him seriously, even though he could hardly be more serious (he could also hardly look more like a turtle, have you noticed?). And then there’s the always charming, always uplifting Ricky: “Be like a panther.” “I want to watch you fly.” Joel Madden’s constant lameness is annoying (“You’re from Canberra? Well, you can, bra!”). Yes, in case you’re wondering; I did take out a pen mid-show and write these quotes down. I’d quote something from Delta, except it seems that as soon as she starts talking I either drift off completely or have a sudden urge to claw my ears off and burn them. Weirdly. The real reason you should watch The Voice is, of course, for the voices of the contestants. Sure, they sing some terrible songs throughout the show and at least once every season (sometimes twice) someone will sing You Raise Me Up to a standing ovation. But once the contestants are in the show, the judges choose the songs for them so it’s not their fault really. You can always look back (on Youtube, late

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at night) at the audition songs to see who really has good taste. For example, Alex Gibson, whose sweet joyous voice makes me feel like I’m bathing naked in a swimming pool of freshly plucked daisy petals, sang Blackbird by The Beatles and Danny Ross gave an epic delivery of When The Levee Breaks. Talented 67 year old Steve Clisby, who once toured with Santana, basically mentors the mentors, he’s that good. The judges can’t even stop the soulful Miss Murphy being foxy as shazam. But there are other reasons to enjoy The Voice. You can laugh at how Seal looks like an intense, black ninja turtle. You can critically observe the sexual tension between Seal and Delta, and enjoy Seal’s obvious condescension of Joel Madden. For me, the enjoyment of the show, imparted wisdoms aside, is the talent of the contestants. I don’t care how marketable they are, how many albums they could sell, whether they’re toyetic enough for a merch-line. I’m not about to vote or anything stupid like that, because I wouldn’t wish winning such a competition on any artist I admired. If anything, I’d vote for the artists I don’t like. That’s because no matter how talented and unique a performer is, once they sign that Universal contract, that’s it. No more artisitic integrity, no more career control, no more unique-ness. Their lead single will also be utter shitstainage. Better off going down the Matt Corby road and simply use the publicity you get from the show in your own way. I’ll never surrender the required 55 cents to support a contestant I like. But I certainly will tune in for two hours a night, happily wade through prolific ad breaks, and stay up till four in the morning watching the performances again on Youtube. This is because when those beautiful, misguided contestants open their mouths and sing, I get shivers up my spine. Because the vibrato in Celia Pavey’s voice makes me want to cry (sometimes actually makes me cry). Because Ricky Martin makes me want to swing a whole different way to what I’m used to. And when the competition’s over, I’ll forget every single artist I ever saw on the show. I feel no shame about any of this. As Seal says (or said, once, on The Voice): “Let yourself be free.”

A Moment with Hannah Kent Simon Collinson talks to Flinders graduate Hannah Kent, whose first novel Burial Rites has just been released to international acclaim. Based on her Creative Writing PhD, Burial Rites tells the story of Agnes Magnúsdóttir, the last woman to be publicly beheaded in Iceland. See our review of the book in issue four. How did you get into writing? Was there a first story you wrote? Yeah, I’m one of those people. I can remember the very first story I wrote. It was probably only about three pages long, but it was about a fish who lived by a jetty with his family, and things were all going swimmingly (mind the pun) then they started to get nasty, I think I had them all disappearing and dying and this young fish didn’t know what to do, then realised that a fish and chip shop had moved really close to where he was living, and they’d killed all his family members, so he decided to save the day by hanging trash and rubbish from their fishing lines, and eventually they went out of business. So it was quite dark from an early age! Were there any particular authors you read a lot as a kid? How have your reading tastes changed since then? I read a lot of Enid Blyton when I was a kid. A lady who was having a garage sale once gave me a full bookshelf of hardback Enid Blyton books – she just didn’t want them! Those were the first books I’d owned really – I’d had others, picture books as presents from my parents, but these were the real thing, they looked like novels to me. I used to re-read a lot as well. As I grew older I was struck by the idea that maybe I wanted to be a writer as well; I guess this was inspired by books like Little Women, with characters like Jo. I thought, “I love reading so much, why not learn how to give other people that pleasure.” I didn’t really spend much time reading young adult fiction as a kid: in fact, I had a few years there where I was at quite a loss for something to read. I wasn’t a very rebellious teenager, so I didn’t really enjoy the rebellious side of YA fiction. I read John Marsden and Tamora Pierce too, maybe in primary school. I think the transition probably went from Enid Blyton, Paul Jennings, Roald Dahl, not really knowing what to read for a while and then Dickens, Tolstoy, and canonical writers. I got into the Russians in year 11 and 12. I think people sometimes forget that not everyone goes through that YA transition.

How did you write Burial Rites? How did the process work for you? Well, I often think of Burial Rites as basically being my apprenticeship – before that I didn’t know how to write a book! I sat down around the 10th of January 2011 and pretty much wrote every working day until May. I had to be really disciplined about that – I converted a walk-in wardrobe where I was living in Melbourne into a little office, which was a great decision, because before that I had everything in my bedroom and I couldn’t shut off. I’d sit down anywhere between 7.30 and 8.30 am – I noticed that if I sat down after that I was kind of distracted and didn’t get a good momentum up – and I’d write 1000 words a day. It was enough that I wouldn’t be tempted to self-edit as I was writing, which I think was really slowing me down before, it was also enough that I could potentially finish by 11 am. And some days I was finished by 11 am, and then I would try to force myself not to write any more – I would go do other things, other work, answer emails, or read, or do what I had to do – and other days I didn’t quite make that quota, so I was still

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sitting there later that night. But that was really good, because it meant I knew that after however long – 30 days for instance – I’d have 30,000 new words on my PhD. And it might all be terrible, but at least I could go back and rewrite it. At first it was a real struggle to sit down day by day at my desk and be disciplined – but by the end of it, it wasn’t a problem whatsoever. The other thing that I ought to acknowledge is that I don’t have any children – so it was very easy for me to experiment and figure out what would work best, but I know there’s a lot of people who can only work at night. I really do think the main things is persistence, though – that’s what got me through in the end.

in the capital region at all. It was a real community, which had its benefits and its drawbacks. I was very conspicuous: cars would slow down, heads would poke out the window so people could get a good look at the exchange student they’d heard about, but no-one would talk to me! It was really weird, this experience of being both well-known and completely alienated. That was where I first heard about Agnes, and looking back I’m sure that there was something about her story of conspicuousness and isolation, and the hostility that she faced, that resonated with me – although obviously my situation was a lot less dire than hers!

How did you end up in Iceland? How long did it take you to learn Icelandic? I knew I didn’t want to go straight to uni after high school, so I applied for a Rotary exchange and since I was the only person who was remotely interested in a winter of darkness, they shipped me off to Iceland all by myself. I was placed in a Northern town, not

I learned the language through joining the town’s theatre group. I was the prop girl, which meant I had to be able to understand what I was hearing and match it to the script on the page so I could hand over a gun at the appropriate time. That probably took six months – the language was certainly part of it, but it was probably also just being there – the same as some small Australian towns, I guess. I had an amazing time, and I completely fell in love with the country. I fell in love with the landscape, actually, which was probably why it was so important to me in writing this book to make it so central, and such a character. There were a few places where I thought your language and the metaphors actually sounded Icelandic – was this a conscious decision? Some of it might have come about just from translation. Some of the documents were translated quite literally, with the words in that strange order, and maybe that just carried through to the writing. In terms of using proverbs and things, some of them are Icelandic proverbs from the sagas, which I really love, and which were a big part of the research for this book, because they would’ve been really familiar to anyone who lived back then. And some were just made up! I guess that’s about having fun and enjoying the strangeness of it all. I never wanted it to be just a token, NorthernScandi novel, I wanted it to really be an Icelandic novel. I wanted to honour the things that are unique about Iceland, and that includes the landscape, the sagas, and the language, which hasn’t changed in centuries. Are there any plans for the book to be translated into Icelandic? How do you think people in Iceland feel about the book? It’s being translated into Icelandic, which I was really

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“

I wanted it to really be an Icelandic novel. I wanted to honour the things that are unique about Iceland, and that includes the landscape, the sagas, and the language, which hasn’t changed in centuries.

excited to hear about. It’s being translated into 16 languages now, but that was definitely the one I was most excited to hear about – partly because it’s such a small book market, so it’s hardly ever done – unless it’s something like 50 Shades of Grey, you know. But I’m nervous as well, because how Icelanders will respond to the story always remains a bit of a concern at the back of my mind, especially when my take on it is quite different from what they might have heard. The publishing people have said “look, there will be people who disagree with this, and who have a problem with it, but it’s going to lead to discussion and debate, and that’s a good thing,” and that’s what they want – and I think that’s actually an incentive for them to publish it in Icelandic, to start a conversation about it. The other potential problem is that I’ve borrowed all these real historical characters, and their names are in the story, and they have living relatives. I ended up sending an earlier draft to this farmer I met, who lived in the area and knew everything about the murders, because I wanted him to spot any howlers that might be in there, and he did spot a few: there was a rape alluded to, and the perpetrator and the farm he came from was named, and this farmer said “look, unless you can be sure either that it actually happened or that it’s completely fictional, don’t name him, because there will be relatives who think you’re calling their grandfather a rapist.” With the big things, like the murder and the execution, I think people realise that you’re going to make things up. But the way you portray the small characters actually causes more concerns. People are more aware of their lineage in Iceland, in ways that we’re not here. What’s the thing that has surprised you the most about the process of getting published? There have been lots of little surprises. The whole editing process has been an absolute joy, actually – I’m someone who actually enjoys being edited, and that’s something I attribute to Flinders, with all the workshopping, and learning very early on how to take constructive criticism. That’s crucial, I think, if you want to be a published writer. Because as good as you might think your book is, and despite the nice things people

”

are saying about it, there’s always stuff that needs to be changed. People ask me how long it took me to write the book, and sitting down at my desk after a lot of research, to get to the first draft only took about five months, but I think as anyone who’s attempted a big project knows, most of writing is rewriting. I didn’t expect to enjoy the editing process as much as I did, but it was a joy because the editors I had were absolutely wonderful, and I was in the very privileged position of having multiple editors, because my book was sold separately to two different publishing companies in three different territories. The Australian editors took the lead, basically, which meant they were also coordinating editorial reports from the UK and the US. All in all I probably had over ten people giving me editorial reports and feedback, I guess I’d thought “there will be things from this book that need fixing; everyone will identify what they are, and then I’ll have to fix them.” And there were things like that, and I agreed with them in every instance. But there were also times when one editor would say, “look, this needs to be changed,” and then I’d get an email from my Australian publisher saying, “No, keep it in, it has to stay!”, which just reminded me of how subjective this whole thing was, even with these hotshot editors from New York! There were a few things they disagreed on, which I found interesting: one of them was the title – the working title was actually Agnes, but they didn’t want a woman’s name in the title. What will the next book be about? My publisher, with whom I have a great relationship, has actually forbidden me from talking too much about it, but I can say that the next book is going to be set in Ireland, and again will be based on true events, although perhaps not as closely as this book has – we’ll have to wait and see what the research digs up. It will be a similar timeframe, too – early 1800s. There’s a few themes and things that I want to explore and touch on – one of them is superstition – but that’s all I can really say!

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books Band-Aid for a Broken Leg by Damien Brown

t’s not hard to pinpoint what’s so likeable about Band-Aid for a Broken Leg. BandAid is the story of Damien Brown, a twenty-something doctor who’s taken the step of volunteering for Medecins Sans Frontieres (also known as MSF or Doctors Without Borders). For me, perhaps the first giveaway was the subtitle: Being a doctor with no borders (and other ways to stay single). “Ah,” I thought, “so he’s self-deprecating and probably likes cats: just like me then!” In fact, Brown’s humour is one of the surprising stars of the novel. In a journey that is otherwise filled with mindopening experiences and heart-breaking honesty, the reader is often caught laughing – or even yelling – out loud at some new, hilarious, and probably disgusting thing to which our protagonist has admitted. Perhaps I’m a little biased: MSF is where I’d like to end up. Also, as a current medical science student I’m more than a bit interested in the book’s many medicinal miracles and horror stories (and I must admit there’s far more of the latter, as one would expect of impoverished emergency care centres in remote Africa). Still, it wasn’t the medicine, the pastoral care, or the science that had me impressed. Nor was it the humanitarian work, political history, geography lessons, or insight into true poverty: it was the stories. Stories of people who are just like

[42]

me in some respects and yet completely different in others. The story of a young woman, burdened with HIV, who proposed marriage to Brown to thank him for giving her medicine and thus saving her life. The story of a little girl who’d fashioned a doll out of a beer bottle by sticking some brown straw in its neck. The story of the sexual tension between MSF workers, and the hilarity that ensued following the visit of two Scandinavian aid workers. Brown’s setting is clear and true, a world where any reader can fall straight into place and picture the tukul – quaint mud huts that serve as home – or the hospital or the setting sun over a Somali river. Equally impressive, quite apart from his ability to make the medical terminology easy to follow, is the fact that through his explanations of the context of each case Brown provides far greater insight into the condition than any medical degree ever could. Interestingly, this story does not have a conventionally happy ending. This is not a spoiler alert, but the outcome is far from predictable. There are no clichés, either – a welcome relief when dealing with this type of material. There is just a man and his stories. Stories of the conflict between workmates, of the injustice of terminal illness, and of the bizarre white guilt we seem to be burdened with. In the face of end-stage starvation, clan war shoot-outs, and leopard attacks, is there really much any doctor can do? Or any human, for that matter? These are the questions Brown asks – and sometimes he finds an answer. Along the way there are some truly

The Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion

shocking pictures of humanity: pure evil juxtaposed with unrelenting hope. BandAid is a journey, in every sense of the word, and any reader would do well to pick it up and take it one chapter at a time; finding not only pleasure, wisdom, and passion, but also a sense of self, pride, and wonder reflected in each tale and often upon introspection. It’s rare to find a work of non-fiction that keeps you guessing and makes you cry, laugh, and learn, all while surprising you at every turn. Do yourself a favour and read this book. Words by Holly Richter

•

on Tillman is 39 years old, a successful professor of genetics, fit, attractive, and sitting somewhere on the high-functioning end of the autism spectrum, although he doesn’t know it. And he’s decided to get married. After having little success with conventional dating, he creates the Wife Project to help him in his quest, a 16-page questionnaire designed to systematically eliminate unsuitable women. But the test is too prescriptive; eliminating women who do not eat kidneys, have a favourite flavour of ice-cream, and who like to arrive a little early to appointments: “habitual earliness is cumulatively a major waste of time.” Into his life comes Rosie Jarman. She is a smoker, works in a bar, has daddy issues, and is utterly unsuitable for the Wife Project. But Rosie has a quest of her own:

finding her biological father, and Don is in the perfect situation to help her. From debut novelist Graeme Simsion comes a heart-warming exploration of whether our genes or our life experiences have the largest impact on who we are. Simsion’s novel, which contains all the classic tropes of a romantic comedy, avoids falling into a clichéd and predictable story line, and instead tells a fantastic tale about discovery, breaking down preconceptions, and love. The Rosie Project explores the effects of autism and Asperger’s Syndrome upon adulthood and Simsion’s comic approach to these subjects is what makes this novel distinctive. “I am an expert at being laughed at,” Don acknowledges. Don is a refreshing change from the conventional rom-com hero, and the originality, wit, and verve of his first-person narration demonstrates the differences between his interpretations of human behaviour and the reality. “Predicting the impact of actions on other people is incredibly difficult,” he explains, deadpan. The Rosie Project is an easy read that will have you laughing out loud, getting upset, and ultimately rejoicing for Don as he explores life in a way he never thought possible. Words by Jessica De Silva

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Blink Words by Lachlan Hunt

link, blink, blink. The skies spits rain in my eyes thick and fast. The lips of the goal frame are dribbling on my jersey, coating the soggy letters of McGuiness on my back. “A pre semi-final knockout is no match to cancel,” our coach mentioned to my dad before the game, quoting the opposition’s coach as he spits phlegm and throws his scarf back across his shoulder. Just minutes after kick off, I start fantasising about sitting inside the car with a hot pie, listening to the radio behind the fogged windows. Newcastle United, perched untroubled on top of the ladder, are unconcerned with an early goals or risky shots. An eruption of cheers reign over the stadium with each shot at goal. The sound cascades from the top tiers of seats and seems to effervesce in the ear, caught in the swirling current that pulls it down to the pitch. Scarves, hats, jumpers, everything is tossed about in the sea of supporter emotion. At this level of the game, each player has their own flair to practise, all superstars in the spotlight of the stadium. Their speed and grace is so far from the pitches of my childhood. On the other end, their keeper is facing the firing squad. All limbs are offered as tribute and he pulls some terrific saves. I clap and cheer. I spare a thought for their keeper too, thinking how I’ve answered to those same mistakes in the past. Matthew Ingles dances with the ball, ducking in and out of tackles like they’re falling trees. No one can catch him. Even his team mates are out of breath as he sprints across the grass. Despite our defence’s bold lunges, he slips by unfazed. I tense and push my hands out like Dad showed me, waiting for a big kick… but he draws closer, cheekily tapping the ball, taunting me to act. I rethink, and bolt from the net’s mouth for the ball. He catches my eye, and kicks. Though my lean favours a save, its speed is awesome, and I hear the scoff of the net before diving into a mud puddle. A roar cradles my landing, the ball just deflected out at the last second. Such a long shot from beyond the box caught our defence unaware, but the ball’s cruise to the net gave me time. I rub my forearm, which suffered the greatest blow. Our defence congregates around the box, eyes darting between the corner and their marked player. As the tension rebuilds, I catch a glance at our manager, an ex-player himself, pacing the sideline in contemplation. I’m distracted by a larger midfielder nudging me into the goals, a brute of a player. I step in front, eyes focused. The ball flies long and far from the corner, a slow moving curve, difficult to track. I brush past the larger mid, but he follows in anticipation. Their younger striker, a lean German lad, has the same thought and darts forward. He lunges, head forward, but my punch sees it clear, inches away from his waiting forehead. The opposition still celebrate each goal, though their victory seems inevitable. The whistle blares, and half time is called. Heads rock back in disappointment. When we head back down the corridor towards the pitch, we pass life size posters of previous champions, walking along side us. I glance up occasionally and see their faces; frozen in glee, crying, cheering. I too remember the shoulders I hugged, backs I patted, trophies I held, and chuckle at the flash of glory I’d seen. Such a strange world. I hear the cheers beyond the tunnel’s exit, and refocus on the game.

“O’rite, lads! Let’s keep pu’ goin’!” My words echoing through the change rooms, others join in with pride. Soon we’re chanting our team’s name down the tunnel as we run out on to wet grass, shadows growing around our feet, splitting in every direction. The falsetto of the open crowd is a warm hug in middle of the bitter English weather. My bones already ache. An ever so gentle breeze, coupled with the odd spot of rain cripples all my muscles. And still Newcastle show promise. Our parents have retired to the cars parked in the shade of the trees, looking on in from the warmth of fogged glass with a paper and possibly a coffee or two. With each step, I sink deeper into the mud, sucking its way up my ankles. The game extents into the afternoon, with the opposition’s press on us becoming more aggressive. A plucky left forward makes a run at goal, darting around two younger lads that seem to be playing in the mud rather than playing the game. Just as the attacker takes a step inside the box, my mate slides across him and nicks the ball, as well as the opposition’s foot. I watch him flip over, head first into the mud, rolling over and over. He grabs his knee at the end of it all in mock pain. The whistle sounds and the ref marches over, flipping through his card pocket. I run over. “He was miles off him, ref. He touched the ball half ‘n’ hour before ‘im!” I plead in my thick Scottish. With the whistle still in his mouth, he raises the red and points at the spot. The forward gets up after his milking and sticks his tongue out. The whistle sounds for the end of extra time and penalties are set-up. Everyone draws a deep breath and I psyche up for the kicks. The rain eases and the sun tries to pierce the white, cloudy ceiling. I rub my arms one last time, hopelessly trying to keep warm. I feel tiny in front of the long, white bars. I need to pick a side to jump to, with no time to react as he kicks. The ref places the ball and the opposition looks up at me. I’ve picked my side. Last kick. I just need make this save for the Cup. Sweat crawls down my brow, and I breathe. His legs suggest he’ll go for the top right corner; and he is a right footer. We share a moment of peace, staring at the ball. His left foot slightly in front of his right, poised, visualising the kick. A ceremonious slow clap starts up behind me, echoing right around the stadium. He begins his run, huge strides towards the spot. This one’s going to be a hard kick. The striker makes a foot shuffles as he starts, a classic attempt at elusion, but I know where my money sits on his direction, shuffling my feet to the right just before contact. I jump to the right, and the last thing I see is the ball heading my direction. Arms out I hope to feel the proud smack of the ball on my face or arms, or whereever. But nothing. Just players already cheering and shouting. I land in the mud, with the ball flying back towards him. I’m completely confused. But he’s running for the ball, so I scramble up and make a dive, his long legs swinging for the chance at a rebound. I jump with both eyes open, legs flying high after the push off from earth. I’ve got the ball on my side, but it starts curving around, as if to miss the goals completely. I throw my fist out and pray. I feel the smack of contact, but the power behind it means I can only deflect it to the post. From the ground, I watch it fly over me, knowing I won’t be able to get my gloves to it. With my legs up in case I misjudged, I make a hasty kick, flicking it away at the last. Collision. The whistle blows and I get up from the pitch. Success. I shake the hands of the opposition, thank the ref and wave to my parents, who’ve watched the whole match unfold.

Father’s Home

Words by Lachlan Hunt

Broken glass cracks under my feet as I approach. I step inside the skeleton and watch the sun pierce the grey curtains, peering in on the night’s misdeeds. The body, purged of all the subtle hints of warmth and pride, now left alone, stripped naked. It resembles nothing of its past, only sits, aloof, without meaning or purpose. By rights, it should all be gone, as form followed function, and here I find the bones unhinged, testimony to their structure. Window frames are no longer obscured by the pristine, polished timbers and the finest glass. Nature hath thrown them open, and the elements have made their abode. Wading through the puddles, trudging over memories begging not to be forgotten, I wonder why the bones don’t crumble. The structure fathered all that it protected, kept its contents from the cold, did its duty as it was made. And now it stands thus. Though I cradled it from my younger years and oversaw its growth, I couldn’t fathom such an outcome from the storm. The winds have drawn their fingernails across the walls, tearing at floorboards, sucking out the life. I followed the path of destruction here, and it has led me to its fate. I sit in puddle of silver that shimmers in the sunlight. And still the bones look on. The oak flesh is still vibrant and taunt, vascular arms embracing burly shoulders, refusing to succumb. I walk toward a solitary post and rest my hand upon it. It is wet, knotted, moss crawls up its back. And yet, above me its arms spread wide, grasping the shoulders of those around it as they too embrace. One cannot hold the frame alone, but is integral to the support of the whole. Still, they stand, nurturing nothing but themselves.

y r t e o P nse e s a , t throa e h t in ess.” n p k m ic s lu e ins as a kness, a lov g e b m “A poe g, a homesic rt Frost n - Robe of wro

The Fourth Wall

Words by Charles Chiam Chuang Chao How I wish I could break this barrier. I will leave this reality behind forever, Neither looking back nor returning, And I will travel from screens to windows, Through pages and covers, words and colours, Experiencing fantasies of distant worlds, Eternally riding on a journey through the decade.

A Good Morning Words by Georgia Brass

As the sun gently stirs my slumbering soul, Sleep lingers, cloaking me in cloudy vagueness, the warm softness of your body wrapping mine in a quiet embrace, I kiss your lips and headily breathe in your love, and all at once, I am dreaming and awake.

The Forest Beneath Her Emptiness

Words by Samuel Nock

As we get lost in the forest, As we get lost in our dreams, She sweeps me off my feet, Like the leaves from the trees. She leaves me numb where my heart should be. She continues to gather all that she sees. The sky, full of rain, in the black clouds above, The forest is waiting to be soaked by its love. And we will wait again, together someday, To be repaid in full by the love that we gave.

Games

Games Hard

Puzzle 1 (Hard, difficulty rating 0.64)

6 6

3 1

1 9

Medium

Puzzle 1 (Medium, difficulty rating 0.60)

8 6

Easy

Puzzle 1 (Easy, difficulty rating 0.37) Generated by http://www.opensky.ca/~jdhildeb/software/sudokugen/ on Tue May 28 14:37:31 2013 GMT. Enjoy!

7 9

5 2

3 7

9 4 5

5 6

Generated by http://www.opensky.ca/~jdhildeb/software/sudokugen/ on Tue May 28 14:38:07 2013 GMT. Enjoy!

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3 3

3 1

8 5

Generated by http://www.opensky.ca/~jdhildeb/software/sudokugen/ on Tue May 28 14:38:27 2013 GMT. Enjoy!

Blast from the past Empire Times volume 12 Issue 12 [49]