The Big Issue Australia #659 – Denise Scott by The Big Issue Australia

Ed.

659 14 APR 2022

BIBLIOTHERAPY SAMI SHAH and HOT CROSS BUNS

e s i n e D t t o c S

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Contents

EDITION

659 16 Reading for Good We all know that reading is good for you, but did you know it could change your life? We take a look at bibliotherapy, the practice that gives the term “well read” a whole new meaning.

20 Slow Life When lockdown struck, comedian Sami Shah was ready – a four-year stint in small-town Western Australia had taught him to savour the pace.

12.

“Ride That Wave of Failure” 40

by Anastasia Safioleas

She’s been cracking us up for decades, but, as her Letter to My Younger Self reveals, comedy hasn’t always been a barrel of laughs for Denise Scott. She opens up about the challenges of comedy, learning not to take things personally, and life at the crossroads.

THE REGULARS

Ed’s Letter & Your Say Meet Your Vendor Streetsheet Hearsay & 20 Questions My Word The Big Picture

26 27 34 35 36 37

Ricky Fiona Film Reviews Small Screen Reviews Music Reviews Book Reviews

Hot Cross Buns There’s nothing better than the wafting scent of Hot Cross Buns on Easter morning. Georgia McDermott shares her intolerance-friendly recipe for the festive favourite.

cover photo by Ben King content photo by SBS

04 05 06 08 11 22

TASTES LIKE HOME

39 43 45 46

Public Service Announcement Puzzles Crossword Click

Ed’s Letter

by Amy Hetherington Editor @amyhetherington

Great Scott!

enise, you are the funniest person going around. I never laughed so much in my life,” wrote Jeff, back in 2015. Jeff retired from The Big Issue in early 2020, at the age of 72, just as COVID tipped the world upside down. He’d been selling at Parliament and Footscray stations in Melbourne since April 2012 – and in 2013 he worked alongside our cover star Denise Scott, spruiking the mag on the steps of Flinders Street Station. “She is a very nice lady,” he said. From that moment on, Jeff was a fan. He rarely missed her show at the Melbourne Comedy Festival, thanks to the generosity of one of his favourite customers, Wan. As Jeff noted in his farewell letter in Ed#611, Wan bought him tickets to various shows when he couldn’t afford to do so. It was an act of kindness among many he mentioned: regular customers who stopped by for a chat, brought him a Big Issue from

Your Say LETTER OF THE FORTNIGHT

Japan, and simply cared. “I’d like to thank all those customers for looking after me all those years,” he wrote. It’s these connections, these communities that are at the heart of The Big Issue. For more than 25 years they have sustained our magazine and supported our vendors through the toughest of times, and been there to celebrate their joys. And last month, it’s this sentiment that buoyed The Big Sell campaign, which raised much‑needed funds to help ensure we’ll still be here, through the challenges of COVID, continuing to help people help themselves. As for Jeff, he’s pleased he doesn’t have to get up so early in the morning now that he’s retired. But, he tells me, he does miss his customers. “I drove trucks and taxis for many years, but my last job was the best one – selling The Big Issue,” he says, over the phone. “The thing I miss most is just meeting new people.”

I want to tell you just how much I get from reading The Big Issue. I particularly look forward to Fiona Scott-Norman’s segment, so funny and brilliant. What has caused me to write to you was the disappointment in reading Giselle Au-Nhien Nguyen’s scathing review of ABBA’s new album Voyage in Ed#650. We all have our individual taste, I know. I’d already bought the CD and have only just played it. I couldn’t have had a more opposite view; I was very moved by it. To me, it was beautiful in every possible way – what amazing musicians. It would sadden me if anyone who read your review were put off from buying it. Thank you for such an amazing magazine, which I read from cover to cover every fortnight. BARRY NEWMAN JOLIMONT I WA

Loved having Andew Weldon in our kitchen this month! LEANE CHRISTIE VIA EMAIL

Ed – Pleased you’re enjoying The Big Issue calendar, Leane.

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The Big Issue Story The Big Issue is an independent, not-for-profit magazine sold on the streets around Australia. It was created as a social enterprise 25 years ago to provide both a voice and a work opportunity for people experiencing homelessness and disadvantage. Your purchase of this magazine has directly benefited the person who sold it to you. Big Issue vendors buy each copy for $4.50 and sell it to you for $9, keeping the profits. But The Big Issue is more than a magazine.

• Our Women’s Subscription Enterprise provides employment and training for women through the sale of magazine subscriptions as well as social procurement work. • The Community Street Soccer Program promotes social inclusion and good health at weekly soccer games at 23 locations around the country. • The Vendor Support Fund will offset the cost price of products for vendors, allowing them to earn a larger margin on their own street sales. • The Big Issue Education workshops provide school, tertiary and corporate groups with insights into homelessness and disadvantage, and provide work opportunities for people experiencing marginalisation. CHECK OUT ALL THE DETAILS AT THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

Barry wins a copy of Georgia McDermott’s cookbook IntoleranceFriendly Kitchen. You can check out her recipe for Hot Cross Buns on page 40. We’d also love to hear your thoughts, feedback and suggestions: SUBMISSIONS@BIGISSUE.ORG.AU

YOUR SAY SUBMISSIONS MAY BE EDITED FOR CLARITY AND SPACE.

Meet Your Vendor

interview by Amanda Sweeney photo by Barry Street

PROUD UNIFORM PARTNER OF THE BIG ISSUE VENDORS.

14 APR 2022

SELLS THE BIG ISSUE ON THE CORNER OF ALBERT AND CHARLOTTE STS, BRISBANE

MICHAEL

I grew up in Cooma, New South Wales. There were four children in our family and I’m the eldest. One time Dad was working in Thailand. My sister and I went to Bangkok to visit him. It was exciting going on the plane. I had my first go on the pokies at 19 and I was instantly attracted to them. The sounds, the lights, that you can have a win. It was exhilarating; it really did something for me, the feeling of winning. When I was a kid I loved sport. I had some success at soccer, and it felt really good winning as a team. So did gambling. I was going to uni in Sydney, studying engineering, and I was finding it difficult. I started doubting myself. So I would have a bet on the pokies. I’d gamble to escape. I failed my first year and went back to live with my parents. At 21 I decided to go back to uni to study maths, but the same thing happened. I had suicidal thoughts. In my third year, my uncle came and found me at a pinball parlour. I’d spend hours there, searching for leftover money to put in the pokies like a scavenger. He contacted Mum and Dad, who asked me to come and live with them. In 2008 I was sharing a house in Brisbane and I was behind on the rent by a month, because I’d been gambling. I felt ashamed, so I rang a helpline and they suggested that I join a peer-support group. I turned up to a meeting every week for about two months and didn’t gamble at all. But then I went back. I felt very isolated; I didn’t have any friends. It was a very lonely and depressing time. I started going to Grow in 2008. They help people with their mental health. It was challenging, but it was good to be part of a supportive group. Thanks to Grow and my peer-support group I was able to stop gambling. I’m still a recovering compulsive gambler, but I haven’t had a bet of any kind since August 2013. I met Heather in 2014, when she came to Grow. She saw that I had taken on a leadership role and I think she was impressed by that. She wanted to see me after a meeting and I suggested going for coffee. When we were walking to the cafe, she told me she adored me. Our wedding day was special. We had been attending a local church for about five years and the ladies offered to do the catering for us. Having our church family around, as well as our relatives, made it the best day of my life. A friend suggested I try The Big Issue. On my first day one of the other vendors came over and said hello, which felt really nice. That was in 2016. Approaching people as they walk past has helped build my confidence, because I’ve been quite a loner in my adult life. Some people stop for a chat; it makes my day. People have been so kind.

Streetsheet

Stories, poems and pictures by Big Issue vendors and friends

I Stood Alone I stood alone while the dark of the morn abound! I stood alone though there were hundreds around! I heard the bugle call me to remember them! I had a moment for those who served and I thanked them. As the rays of light filtered through the dark of night! I know that many died to defend those who were right! When all around seems dark and despairing! VENDOR SPOTLIGHT

I know if I look I’ll find the light and those who are caring.

DANIEL K

Work of Art

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

y name is Daniel, and I had an art exhibition in the Adelaide Fringe. I am an artist, writer and Big Issue vendor. During the Adelaide Fringe, I had an art exhibition from 9-22 March. Opening night went well – we had the maximum crowd allowed for an art exhibition because of COVID-19 restrictions. There were 15 people who came to the opening night party, which included red and white wine, Jatz crackers and French onion dip, and yo-yo biscuits. I do art because I love it. For the second time, I have made a small profit at the Fringe. The exhibition was held at Mostly Books (on Mitcham Square). I had nine

I stood alone on ANZAC morning, I heard the prayers and the heartfelt blessing. I stood alone with others beside me!

paintings and over 120 sketches of native birds from South Australia. My favourite painting was the flying pigeon because a friend of mine in Scotland likes these birds, and my favourite sketch was the long-billed corella, as I used to have one as a pet. On opening night, I sold $120 worth of art. This year I decided to take my sketch book to the Fringe and made an extra $230. My Fringe event went well, by all accounts. I also went to see Reuben Kaye’s show, which was excellent. See you all next year! DANIEL K HUTT ST, WAYMOUTH ST & NORWOOD I ADELAIDE

As I opened my eyes and the lights came up, I could see we were a caring community. I stood alone but not anymore, I have freedom on our Australian shores. “Lest we forget” MAX W KMART, BOURKE ST I MELBOURNE

Proud Mum

Getting to Know You

It’s good to be back working after the last couple of years we’ve had. My kids are now 17 and 18; my youngest daughter is in Year 12 and my other daughter is going to college to be a midwife – I can’t believe it! That was the best news. I am so proud of my kids. It has been good for me to be positive with the girls and in contact with them during last year’s lockdowns.

A long-term customer who I always wave to when she’s on her way to work stopped to discuss multiculturalism with me. I told her I was interested in learning about different cultures. She works at Inka in Canberra. She missed me while I was gone recently and invited me to her restaurant for my birthday. I told her it was 10 months away, but she insisted. I got a three‑course fusion meal – Japanese and Peruvian. She discussed the culture of each dish with me. I went to pay but she wouldn’t take it. I felt like it really was my birthday! Learning about each other is the future.

DONNA CENTREWAY I MELBOURNE

Feeling Better I want to thank everyone who has been checking in on me after my surgery. I’ve had people texting and messaging me on Facebook. One of my regular customers visited me the night of the operation. It made me feel warm and fuzzy, that people do care. I’m feeling a lot better now. EDDIE SHERWOOD & MILTON MARKETS I BRISBANE

Back and Loving It

the Parramatta Eels, V8 Supercars and Beyond Blue, or travelling again. I missed doing these things while in lockdown, and now I’m back. Doing my Big Issue magazine and the other things I love is great. I’m reaching 15 years doing The Big Issue and I’m not planning on going anywhere. It’s the public who make me want to go out each day and do the job I love doing. It’s amazing how they are still supporting us after the last few years of being in lockdown. If they don’t buy a magazine and just say hello, it feels great knowing that they see what we do on the streets. Seeing everyone walking past, going back to things they missed – work, concerts, sporting events – puts a smile on my face to know they can enjoy these things again.

It’s so good to be back doing the things I love doing – Big Issue work, and volunteer work with

GLENN F WOOLWORTHS CENTRAL & DAVID JONES, CNR MARKET & ELIZABETH STS I SYDNEY

KAY B ALDI, AINSLIE SHOPS I CANBERRA

ALL VENDOR CONTRIBUTORS TO STREETSHEET ARE PAID FOR THEIR WORK.

My New Bike I wanted to be able to travel when I want, where I want, without having to worry about bus timetables. My new electric bike is called Samebike, which means when you buy the magazine from me, you can buy it from me again, just look for the same bike. It gives me the freedom to go to suburbs where there’s no Big Issue vendor and introduce the magazine. I can display my Big Issue magazines on it, like it’s my point of sale. I’d like to say I enjoy the wind in my hair when I ride it, but I’ve got no hair.

SPONSORED BY LORD MAYOR’S CHARITABLE FOUNDATION. COMMUNITY PHILANTHROPY MAKING A DIFFERENCE IN GREATER MELBOURNE AND BEYOND.

TONY TALKS THE TORQUE

14 APR 2022

TONY G ANZAC SQUARE TUNNEL I BRISBANE

Hearsay

Andrew Weldon Cartoonist

I am a scummy, mud-caked ferret and striving for anything different felt disingenuous and scary.

held him in my arms with his little umbilical cord. He was screaming away. It was outstanding. It was pure joy.” Shaun Resnik on the history-making birth of his son Eli, who is the first child born to a single man in Victoria through surrogacy. THE AGE I AU

“Not to like…over politicise hickies, but to have one in a COVID landscape is a blatant fuck you to the rules. It’s literally a flag you have germs on your neck. It’s hot.” Ben (no last name) in defence of the love bite during the love bug. VICE I US

The Queen’s Gambit star Anya Taylor-Joy on her initial trepidation of red carpets and glamourous premieres.

“It’s almost like the brain and the heart knew that the lights were on, although the individual was sleeping.” Dr Phyllis Zee, director of the Center for Circadian and Sleep Medicine at Northwestern University, on a new study that sleeping with even a bit of light in the room can have adverse health effects.

and worrying about the election, your children and everything else.” Professor Tissa Wijeratne, of University of Melbourne, on advice for people with brain fog – advice we could all probably use! It’s estimated that 22 to 32 per cent of COVID-19 patients will have longer-term brain fog, but more studies are needed. HOBART MERCURY I AU

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

NPR I US

“I am living through my third war. I never thought there would be another one.” Maria Stasenko, 102, who was born just after the end of WWI and lives in Dnipro, Ukraine, where Russia’s invasion brings painful memories to survivors of WWII. THE NEW YORK TIMES I US

“I think Wordle is like a throwback to the days when there weren’t very many TV channels and everybody kind of watched the same shows, and would talk about them the next day. People are craving that.” Schoolteacher Beth Biester on the communal feelgood phenomenon of daily online puzzle Wordle. Her first word is IRATE, followed by MOUSY. THE NEW YORK TIMES I US

“It’s not a good idea for people with brain fog to be drinking alcohol, bingeing on Netflix, KFC

“I’d hoped to be the one to catch him as he was born and I did. I just

“We’re like in the early days of the internet, and we haven’t even imagined all the possibilities, all the capabilities, that we’re going to be providing in space.” Kam Ghaffarian, co-founder of Axiom, which is sending the first privatised astronaut mission to the International Space Station in what’s being heralded as the beginning of the commercialisation of low-Earth orbit. AL JAZEERA I QA

“[Rock] needed a defibrillator. Who cares who gives it, just as long as that motherfucker doesn’t die?” Machine Gun Kelly on reviving rock guitar riffs for the streaming generation. BILLBOARD I US

“Have you ever tried to get a baby to sleep when there are not really good people walking past screaming at all hours of the night? I have a one, two and four-year-old, that should shock people.” Crystal, a single mum in Bendigo, has been living week-to-week in motels with her five kids since February, due to the growing shortage of affordable housing in regional Australia. ABC I AU

20 Questions by Rachael Wallace

01 Which team did Australia defeat to

win the ICC Women’s Cricket World Cup 2022 in New Zealand? 02 Who did Will Smith slap on stage

at this year’s Academy Awards ceremony? 03 In which country is the Easter

Bunny said to have originated? 04 Spotted by NASA’s Hubble Space

Telescope this month, what is the name given to the most distant single star ever detected in outer space? 05 Who is the youngest person to be

elected as a senator in Australia at the age of 23? 06 What are the colours of AFL team

Port Adelaide? 07 Federal police investigator Aaron

“The spotting, the hair, everything is pretty much the same, even the mannerisms. You know how dogs sometimes get up and shake their whole body? They both do it at the same time, just like Princess did.” Retired NY cop John Mendola on having his beloved pooch Princess cloned after she was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Pet cloning is gaining

“One of the most disturbing stories that I’ve heard people talk about is the sensation of actually feeling the spray, the faecal waste, raining down on them. They see it on their cars, on their homes.” Courtney Woods, at University of North Carolina, on the effects of the US pig industry on local residents, in what’s been called a form of “environmental racism” with pollution concentrated in povertystricken areas with high Black, Lantinx and Indigenous populations. VOX I AU

08 There used to be a 27th letter of the

English alphabet. What was it? 09 What is the main ingredient in

arrabbiata sauce? 10 Who is the only person to have been

nominated in seven different Oscar categories? 11 On which Japanese island is the city

of Sapporo? 12 How many letters does the Queen

receive from the public every day: a) 200 b) 300 c) 700 or d) 1000? 13 From what language does the name

Peter originate? 14 Who sang ‘Genie in a Bottle’? 15 What did John Anglin, Clarence

Anglin and Frank Morris do in June 1962? 16 Who is the only Formula One driver

to be knighted while still driving in the sport? 17 What organs do spiders use to spin

“The only way I could get him out was sliding him on his arse.” Alan Mortimore whose three-hour hunting trip with his 14-year-old son Danny turned into a four-day ordeal after the teenager “blew both his ankles out” in dense bushland. STUFF I NZ

FREQUENTLY OVERHEAR TANTALISING TIDBITS? DON’T WASTE THEM ON YOUR FRIENDS SHARE THEM WITH THE WORLD AT SUBMISSIONS@BIGISSUE.ORG.AU

their webs? 18 In which Shakespearean play does

the character Desdemona feature? 19 Who recently resigned as the

Premier of Tasmania? 20 Australia won one gold, two silver

and how many bronze medals at the 2022 Winter Olympics?

ANSWERS ON PAGE 43

14 APR 2022

ABC I AU

BBC I UK

Falk is a fictional detective created by which author?

“Maybe entertainment is “See, what we need, frippery, but also so desperately, it has the capacity and I yearn for it, to offer something I can’t even tell to the world you…is increased that actually… verticalisation helps people across the get through interface.” something.” A man wearing headphones as Actor Virginia Gay he takes his coffee and nods to on the importance the barista, overheard by Lorin of the performing in inner-city Melbourne. arts in Australia, an industry that lost $1.4 billion due to COVID and left hundreds of thousands out of work. EAR2GROUND

popularity despite the industry’s high failure rate, and the costs involved: $65,000 per dog, $40,000 per cat.

My Word

by Marisa Black @marisa_black_writer

t’s 3am and I am lying in bed, my face lit by the blue light of my phone as sleep evades me once again. Flicking between social media and the endless news cycle, despair creeps in. Beside me, two of my children lie like starfish. They seek us out in the depths of the night when their uncertainties about this world magnify. I am about to throw back the covers, admit defeat and head downstairs to make a tea and wander through the rooms of our sleeping house when something on Facebook catches my eye. It’s a page for the Fred Hollows Foundation charity run. A virtual event that involves committing to running or walking a certain number of kilometres that coming month and raising money to help restore sight to people and end avoidable blindness. Sitting up, all echo of sleep evaporates. My fingers stumble over the letters as I hurriedly sign up, perhaps sensing that my rational brain will soon spurt a thousand good reasons why I should not. Setting my goal to run 150 kilometres, I make my first donation and share my page to social media. Standing by the window, I look up at the moon, a sense of purpose flooding back. In the morning darkness, I fumble with my running gear. Outside, the world is still asleep. As I run, the sound of my feet on the pavement seems too loud, cutting through the quiet as light builds, slowly offering up the day. The sky a soft blue streaked with pink and on the horizon, orange, glowing like a distant fire. Last year, when finally discharged from hospital after overcoming pneumonia and sepsis, I tried to walk down the hospital corridor and out into the fresh air that I longed to feel against my skin. But I didn’t make it, the world dimming, my hearing warping, stumbling in that space somewhere between here and there. Back in a windowless room, a doctor stuck little round stickers back onto my chest, echoing the rhythms of my heart, and wheeled me to the waiting car.

For days, the stairs were some sort of measure of what I had regained and what I had lost, still. Often I would stop to sit halfway up and halfway down, floored by what lay ahead of me. As days passed, it became the challenge of making it to the end of the street and back, and then around the block – my little girl quietly encouraging me on in a role reversal that made my eyes sting. And on it went. Slowly expanding my world, my confidence, my determination. I’ve long been interested in the overlap of the physical and the mental. I once trained for a marathon in this same park. Running round and round so that I might come to feel what it was to be strong. Physically, my muscles grew, legs like springs, arriving ready for the big day: 42 kilometres from Frankston to Melbourne. The end became the distances between a tree and a car, a truck and a water station, a house and a park. My body hit the wall around the 35-kilometre mark. Moving my legs was hard, coordination was hard, my body screaming to stop. The pathway for messages from brain to limbs had broken up, the two unable to connect. Waves of nausea. My face contorted. No energy for tears. Somewhere in those last kilometres, I realised I had a choice: I could give up and stop or I could keep going. Like the brilliant metaphor for life that running is. As I took that next step, I didn’t know what would meet me there: meltdown, injury, collapse. Instead, I found myself letting go, surrendering, as my whole self came together, in sync. All that time, I thought I had been training my body as I ran through the hail, the heat, the wind. Fighting with it, beating it into the shape I thought it needed to be. In the end, it was the unity of my mind and my body that got me over that finishing line. As I look ahead of me now as I run, where the blue‑orange sky meets the grass across the park, I realise I no longer run to become faster or better, but simply because I can. Because it feels good, this place of flow, of mental regression. And afterwards, as the day goes on, this feeling will stay.

Marisa Black is a Melbourne writer.

Simply putting one foot in front of the other reminds Marisa Black that things will be better.

14 APR 2022

Running Up That Hill

PHOTOS BY XXX

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

Letter to My Younger Self

e v a W t a h Ride T e r u l i a F f o Comedian Denise Scott has been cracking us up for decades. But for this dreamer, it hasn’t always been a laugh. by Anastasia Safioleas Contributing Editor

of bread with butter and syrup, drank a lot of tea and talked about boys and God. At 16 I thought I would be a famous movie star. Or maybe even a singer. I thought I’d be a famous performer, but movie star was my dream and I’d somehow thought it would happen. Although I had no idea whatsoever how you went about becoming an actress. I ended up on stage, but it wasn’t what I had in mind! I had no idea comedy existed. I mean, there was Lucille Ball, The Lucy Show, but I didn’t like slapstick in any way, shape or form. It made me feel really uncomfortable. It never occurred to me that I’d have anything to do with comedy. Although at school I was funny and used to do stuff in school concerts that was funny. I loved school. Since then, I’ve caught up with people who were in my peer group at the time and have been really surprised to learn how much they hated it. I had no idea they were having such a hard time. I was so naive. I loved it. I loved Catholicism. I loved the ritual. I loved the academic side of it. It was a happy time for me, unlike so many others. I found the academic side of schoolwork easy. I wasn’t top of the class but I didn’t have to work too hard, so I got to enjoy it. And I felt very liberated. I did a lot of performing at school. I’d just write stuff and get a group of people together and we’d perform it. I felt free and I didn’t feel judged too harshly. I was phenomenally hopeless at sport. The biggest surprise of my life is that I’ve lived in the same house for the last 36 years. It’s the one

t 16 I was a dreamer – I was very positive about the future and believed things would just happen. I was optimistic but then consequently easily shattered because things didn’t go according to plan. And I had my first heartbreak. I went all dramatic because this was my first love. He wasn’t my first boyfriend – I’d had my first boyfriend at 14 so was quite ahead of my time, but no sex though. I was a Catholic girl through and through! I didn’t go so far as thinking I had to get married to have sex, but I had to be madly in love and spend the rest of my life with that person before I’d give myself. The love of my life at 16 was keen on having sex so basically dropped me. I went into a sort of grief. I was quite gorgeous looking – I liked the way I looked – but then I started making myself look as horrible as possible. I wore my hair tied back in a tight ponytail because I had great hair – that was my thing, I had waist-length hippie blonde hair – wore no make-up and had a Catholic girl’s school uniform I wore all the time, sometimes even on weekends. It was ridiculous. I loved my girlfriends at school. I loved live bands and going to dances and dancing. Hippie free-form dancing was my thing. There was a lot of sitting up with my girlfriends talking. I wasn’t into drinking, so we’d have a pot of tea and toast with butter and syrup. We were all as skinny as skinny can be but ate a loaf

14 APR 2022

@anast

STILL HERE IS THE NEW SHOW FROM DENISE SCOTT AND JUDITH LUCY. THEY WILL BE PERFORMING AT THE MELBOURNE, SYDNEY AND BRISBANE COMEDY FESTIVALS, AS WELL AS A HANDFUL OF SHOWS AROUND AUSTRALIA.

TOP: WITH JUDITH LUCY AND THE LATE LYNDA GIBSON, FOR A SHOW IN 1999 MIDDLE: STILL HERE, WITH JUDITH LUCY BOTTOM: AT HOME WITH HUSBAND JOHN, DAUGHTER BONNIE AND SON JORDIE

14 APR 2022

– I never, ever thought I was that good at it. I suppose I had low expectations of myself in comedy, and it took me so long to get anywhere. I didn’t start doing stand-up until I was 34. I was 50 when I started getting really good gigs and recognition. That’s been a big surprise to me, that at 66 I’m still doing this. It’s getting harder as I get older because in many ways, it doesn’t ever get easier. You’ve got to really hang in there and keep doing it and not give up or else it’d be very hard to get back on the horse if I decided to have a break. I do get work because of my age. There’s certain gigs where it’s just better to have an older person that the audience is going to relate to. And I don’t know whether this is because of lockdown, but anxiety doesn’t seem to ease up at all. And that annoys me, that I’ve reached this stage and I’m still dealing with that. It’s quite a mantra of mine: I hate this. But once I’ve met the goal, whether it’s performing a show or being on a TV panel, I’m fine and want to do it again. Until the next thing and then I think, I hate this. It’s very personal when an audience doesn’t buy tickets to your show. I’ve also had the experience of writing a sitcom and getting it to pilot stage and then it’s rejected. Or getting a brutal review. I don’t seek out social media much because I don’t like negative comments coming back at me. I still find that hard to accept. It can be quite brutal. But then I look at some people and think they just can’t put a foot wrong. And I wonder if they are at home worrying about failure too. If I could offer my 16-year-old self some words of advice it’s to say that failure is coming, and it’s going to come big time, but then comes success. It’s impossible to achieve success without a lot of failure so ride that wave of failure till you get to success and then ride the next wave of failure until you succeed again. I didn’t understand that failure was part of life. It made me feel sick to fail. It still does, but now I know that if you fail at something one day you’ll be fine the next.

PHOTOS SUPPLIED, RODGER CUMMINGS/THE AGE

and only house my partner John and I have bought. When we first moved in, I absolutely hated it. Hated the area, hated everything about it. But we’re still here after 36 years and love it. I’m not going to move. That surprises me. I always saw myself as adventurous and a person who would move around a lot. I’m surprised at how much I crave stability in the home front because up until I got pregnant I’d always fancied I was a bit of a mover, that I’d move around and change jobs. If I could go back in time it would be to when my kids were little. I enjoyed being at home with my kids. I found it magical. That too was another surprise. I tried to do comedy before I had kids and then they came along, I thought it was fantastic that I had these two excuses to not go out in the world. I loved mooching around with them. I was content insofar as I thought I was doing the best job I could possibly do as a mum. I enjoyed having these two children to love and care for. It felt pure and good and not tainted like the outside world and work. My work has been the biggest challenge – doing comedy has absolutely been a struggle. And it continues to be. I rarely feel good about what I’m doing in regards to my work. And yet, there’s something about it. I’ve been doing it for a long time now and I don’t think it’s a field of endeavour where you ever really feel comfortable with it. It’s a constant challenge – coming up with the material, fulfilling people’s expectations. And as I’m getting older, it’s more challenging. I’m at a bit of a crossroads, whether I hang in there and keep meeting that challenge or just go “oh fuck it, I might try and enjoy myself for a while”. I enjoy the performing part. That’s what a lot of comedians will say, that the actual time on stage is good. Unless of course it’s going shithouse but that happens less and less the better you get at it. It’s everything around it – the anticipation, the nervousness. It’s amazing to me that I’ve stuck with this job… But maybe that’s why I have stuck with it for so long

Reading can make you feel better – and not just in a cosy, cup-of-tea-on-the-couch way. We mean really feel better: mindful and empathetic, inspired and connected. Alicia Sometimes explores what bibliotherapy is all about. Alicia Sometimes is a Melbourne writer, poet and broadcaster. She has a passion for libraries and all things book related. @aliciasometimes

illustration by Angharad Neal-Williams

Reading for Good

…when the imagination is engaged, healing happens through imagining how things can be different. Recently, when suffering daily headaches after getting COVID-19, I couldn’t reach for the TV or talk on the phone. The only thing I could do was listen to other people read. So I listened to McLaine’s podcast Bibliotherapy With State Library Victoria. It was soothing, her voice warm and comforting, the stories soaking straight into my skin. Hearing Cate Kennedy’s ‘Puppet Show’ or Tim Winton’s ‘Neighbours’ helped me escape my all-too-curvy couch and the confines of relentless pain. These stories became close friends. McLaine began the podcast in 2020, as a response to our collective isolation, when non-essential wellness services like face-to-face bibliotherapy were suspended. “My goal was to offer bibliotherapy in an accessible facilitated self-reflective digital format as a novel wellness innovation,” she says. “In the podcasts, stories, poems, lyrics or poetic non-fiction are read aloud. Then, facilitation is provided to support the listener as they explore the themes and thoughts that present themselves.” The podcasts are a great way to connect with writing, language and ideas. Over the past two years many of my friends have reconnected with their vast book collections, trusted old novels, scintillating classics or new audio books as a way of coping. Stella Glorie, writer, reviewer and host of the Thirty Books YouTube channel, says bibliotherapy has helped her – although she might not have known the term “bibliotherapy” at the time. “In the early 2000s I was beset by a profound loneliness,” Glorie says. “Reading Marilynne Robinson’s books helped because her characters are by and large lonely, or live and embrace, or come to terms with or find moments of wonder, in a solitary life. But they have a rich interior life. It made me adjust to that

14 APR 2022

BIBLIOTHERAPIST DR SUSAN MCLAINE

ook therapy. Two words together that make me think all will be right with the world. I imagine an armchair, a hot cup of tea, novel in hand and talking out loud to Grace Paley, Ellen van Neerven, Yaa Gyasi or Jane Austen. In so many moments in my life, whether beset with melancholy or mild euphoria, the prescription of reading books has hit just the spot. The word bibliotherapy is derived from the Greek words for book, biblio, and healing, therapeia. It’s a broad term for the practice of reading for therapeutic effect. It can take on many forms, from being read to, to being in group or one-on-one sessions with a bibliotherapist practitioner, to participating in book clubs or literature courses. Anyone can benefit from being immersed in books. For Dr Susan McLaine, bibliotherapist, researcher and podcaster, it’s all about “using words in literature to serve the greater good”. “My way of describing bibliotherapy in the way I work,” she says, “is the practice of using imaginative and poetic literature and storytelling to positively affect the wellness of individuals, families, communities and society.” McLaine says that bibliotherapy helps people deal with psychological, social and emotional challenges. It’s not necessarily about finding the answers in books, but about engaging in empathy, and exploring a problem from a range of different perspectives. “Bibliotherapy also assists highly vulnerable people who need support to move ahead in their lives by offering opportunities other than traditional therapy,” she says. “[It’s] supporting people to change by using literature as a pathway to thinking new thoughts and developing new insight and perspectives around personal difficulties.” Whether you are an avid writers’ festivalgoer to someone who reads once a year, stories can help us navigate the world. “What I have found in my experience is that whether reading is enjoyed or not, when the imagination is engaged, healing happens through imagining how things can be different,” she adds. So how does it work? Every reader is different, and a consultation with a bibliotherapist is a highly personal affair. McLaine reiterates that so much of the process depends on the circumstances of the reader, and that getting to know them first is the priority. After talking through the person’s needs, reading habits, and the challenges they face, McLaine prescribes books that will help them have what she describes as “the conversation they need to have with themselves”. “I choose books that will provide open-ended opportunities for insight and some different perspectives to consider. Books that help readers to be curious, reflective and explore new ideas. Books that offer comfort and a way to quietly dwell with possibilities.”

Well Read Melbourne-based bibliotherapist Sonya Tsakalakis prescribes some of her favourite titles for coping in the modern world.

Feeling angsty? The Performance by Claire Thomas All the characters are doing battle with their own personal dramas. As we get a glimpse of their interiorities we feel a sense of solidarity, a recognition that we are not alone.

Disconnected? The Last of Her Kind by Sigrid Nunez A story of an unlikely friendship that begins in college in New York of the 1960s. Also pays homage to the enduring influence of a great English teacher!

Broken hearted? The High Road by Edna O’Brien Edna O’Brien captures the intensity of a broken heart with poetic flair in The High Road. Then hope arrives unexpectedly on a Mediterranean island.

In need of a bit of wisdom? The English Teacher by RK Narayan I have always loved the elegance and wisdom of RK Narayan, particularly here. He gently prods us to fix our gaze to what matters the most when we’re feeling derailed.

Or a life-affirming jolt? Staying Alive: Real Poems for Unreal Times edited by Neil Astley This collection showcases poems covering the kaleidoscope of human experience, by poets from all over the word, and across time.

14 APR 2022

group to guide the discussion, encouraging them to flesh out particular thoughts, feelings and ideas. “What is essential is for the institution or organisation and the bibliotherapy facilitator to have a clear understanding of the aim of the bibliotherapeutic activity.” Part of the reason why bibliotherapy can work so well is because we see diversity in books. We read about struggles, triumph, lived differences, every kind of experience and endless future possibilities. We begin to understand what other people, as well as ourselves, might be going through. This is one of the many reasons why accessibility is so important. Free access to books, programs, services and support is key. Public libraries – and librarians – are essential. Reading within the justice system is vital. Encouraging reading in schools is crucial. I’ve always thought there shouldn’t be any snobbery to reading, a sentiment that McLaine and Tsakalakis reiterate. Read graphic novels, literary fiction, sports memoirs, poetry chapbooks, comics, essays, genre fiction or any non-fiction you can get your hands on. Read slowly or speed read, read 10 books at once or savour a cherished book, re-read Brian Greene or Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series over 20 times during the pandemic. Did I say that last part out loud? Let bibliotherapy be a part of your life no matter how big or small. Chances are, it already is. You may be part of a book club right now. Tsakalakis says, “Book clubs are a great way of connecting meaningfully with others because that’s what it’s all about, that human connection. We all crave and desire to feel less alone in the world.” And that’s it, isn’t it? We all crave and desire to feel less alone in the world – and maybe reading a book can help bring us a little closer together.

and see that there’s a blessing in solitude… She’s showing the reader how to pay attention to the world.” We are often drawn to books with characters with whom we can identify or who maybe seem a little like ourselves. McLaine remembers prescribing a Manga book to a teenage girl with an eating disorder. “I suggested to the mother to ask her daughter to read aloud to her parents any bits that would help her explain how she was feeling,” McLaine reflects. “She came in and read to them on three separate occasions in the first night. It was the first time they had ever been able to talk about it.” We are also attracted to books to escape. Sonya Tsakalakis, Melbourne-based bibliotherapist and co-author of the book Reading the Seasons, says that with so much to worry about in the pandemic world, the universe of books can become a welcome refuge. “[People were] just being attuned to the endless news cycle and the worry of what was ahead, so they needed to be lost in a good story,” she says. “People need fiction more than ever just so they can be immersed in something that would take them away from that reality. I love that idea of escapism and I do it all the time.” But bibliotherapy is not merely a personal endeavour. Increasingly, organisations are recognising the healing power of books. McLaine, who has designed bibliotherapy programs for Port Phillip Prison and the homelessness support service Prague House, says that bibliotherapy can be a really important way of bringing groups of people together to discuss complex topics in a way that feels supportive and constructive. “It helps the cohort open up and to have genuine discussion about difficult things – all within a forum of feeling and being safe due to the narrative being about someone else – the voices and reflection of characters in the story,” McLaine says. In these settings, a trained facilitator will work with the

illustration by Lauren Rebbeck

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

Slow Life A four-year stay in small-town Western Australia shocked comedian Sami Shah into a life of contemplation and canola fields. Sami Shah is a multi-award winning comedian, writer, journalist and broadcaster. This is an extract from Growing Up in Country Australia, edited by Rick Morton, published by Black Inc. @samishah

here was a moment, halfway through Melbourne’s extended lockdown of 2020, when I realised I had my four years in a country town to thank for my ability to cope with isolation. There was something familiar about the sudden lack of activity; spending long days with nothing to do but consider how long until the next meal, the next shower, the next time I could reasonably crawl back into bed. Instead of finding the sudden brakes applied to the hectic forward motion of life in Melbourne upsetting, or even traumatising, it felt comfortable. I knew how to do nothing. Northam had taught me that well. It wasn’t always like this. I grew up in Karachi, a city of 24 million people, all of them vibrating with the need for the now – get to work now, pay the bills now, meet your friends and family now, party hard now, run for your life now. Sleep is a waste of time. While you sleep, everything can change. A friend can be shot and killed, a terrorist can blow himself up, a riot can bloom.

Or, alternatively, a family member can get married, a new restaurant can open, friends can suddenly appear with rolled joints of hash, a trip to the beach can eventuate. Karachi is a city that thrums with restless, even manic, energy and if you don’t sync to that frequency you will be left behind. And being left behind means you’ll always be catching up. You work from 9am to 9pm, then spend your earnings in the hours between. Until I was 35, I knew no other way of living, and if you’d asked me – shouting your question over the din of life – I’d say there was no other way worth living. Then, I ended up in Northam, Western Australia, with a population of 4000. I’d been to weddings with more people in attendance. It wasn’t the plan of course. The plan was to leave one big, mad city and move to another big, mad city: Karachi to Melbourne, keep the momentum in place, ride the adrenaline from kebab rolls at 2am on Tariq Road to laksa at 3am on Russell Street. Except the immigration department had another plan, which superseded any plans I might have bothered aspiring towards. Melbourne would have to be earned, a gift given only after my family and I had spent four years in a country town in WA. Instead of revelling in the hyper-existence of urban 21st century, I was sentenced to 1950s pastoral. Rural Western Australia is what happens if quaint British towns take a nap and never wake up.

be. Standing on my porch on a clear night, I could hear nothing. No traffic, no angry shouts, no distant gunfire. The silence, in those first days, was a reminder of being isolated from all I knew, of having left behind all I loved. “You’re not in Kansas anymore.” At least Oz still had singing and dancing lions and tin men. Northam was the kind of quiet that forced philosophical considerations of the insignificance of trees falling in abandoned forests. In the first months I struggled with the stillness of my new surroundings. I raged against the injustice of having ended up in a place so bucolic, cursed the fates for having forced me to slow my life until it was barely moving at all. Then, slowly – of course, slowly, because there was no other speed setting – I learnt to adjust. I learnt that not everything has to be done right away. That having no place to go can mean learning to appreciate the place you’re in. And that I was able to find peace not in productivity but in peacefulness itself. I learnt to cook the foods I craved, spent afternoons walking through fields of canola and wheat, watched sunsets on the back of a ute with a sixpack of beers between myself and a friend. I learnt that hungering for the next wasn’t necessary, when the next would be the same as the now. The sameness of each day stopped being a frustration, and instead became something to savour.

Einstein explained the relativistic effects of time using a minute for a hand on a hot stove contrasted against an hour spent with a pretty girl. The former feels like an hour, the latter a minute. He could have used Northam and Melbourne for the same illustration. Four years in Northam felt like 40 years, in the same way that four years in Melbourne now feels like just 40 days. Except when the lockdown came. The propulsive force of Melbourne ground to a halt, and work‑filled days and comedy club nights suddenly evaporated. A city of four million people were relegated to contemplating their own existence. It was like sending us all to a silent yoga retreat to find ourselves, and once we’d done that, we discovered we were stuck with ourselves for several months more. Friends grew suicidal, others learnt to cry. Marriages collapsed, relationships soured, and we were given a lesson in the fragility of the world we’d worked so diligently and tirelessly to construct. We’d convinced ourselves that always having things to do, places to go and people to see was good for us. And for many, the lockdown was evidence of the truth of that lifestyle. For me, however, it was a reminder to slow down before I fall, to sit in silence so I can hear myself think. The silence of empty Melbourne streets and endless Melbourne days felt like being back in Northam just for a little while again. And to my surprise, I savoured that reminder.

Once, years after I’d finally escaped to Melbourne, comedian Rhys Nicholson was touring through WA. Having finished his show in Northam, he called me and asked where he could find some dinner. It was just past nine at night, and I answered, “The servo should be open.” Rhys laughed, called me a sarcastic prick, and went off looking for grub. An hour later he called to apologise. Dinner had been crisps and a Diet Coke from the servo, because nothing else was open. That was my first big surprise after settling into our rental in Northam; everything closes early, and there isn’t much of anything in the first place. There was a single Chinese restaurant, two pubs and the aforementioned servo. And frankly, the food in the servo might be a bit better than what the others had to offer. I was used to eating whatever I wanted, whenever I desired it, and realising that this debauched Roman emperor lifestyle was no longer accessible was deeply upsetting. Another adjustment: the silence. Karachi is cacophonous: millions of trucks and millions of buses and millions upon millions of motorcycles without silencers on their exhausts, roaring and raging at millions of cars, and donkey carts, and cursing pedestrians. There is a dull roar even before you reach the city, rising like a migraine the closer you get. I was so accustomed to it all, it didn’t register for me, as unnoticed as the heat of summer, or the ever-present threat of violence. Then, in Northam, I learnt how deafening silence can truly

14 APR 2022

The sameness of each day stopped being a frustration, and instead became something to savour.

series by Lorenzo Mittiga

The Big Picture THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

Birds of Paradise Photographer Lorenzo Mittiga meets the American flamingos of Bonaire – and the woman working round the clock to keep them safe. by Melissa Fulton Deputy Editor @melissajfulton

FOR MORE, GO TO LORENZOMITTIGA.COM.

14 APR 2022

eople on the island know by now if they find a bird, where to bring it,” says Bonaire resident, flamingo whisperer and founder of Bonaire Wild Bird Rehab foundation, Elly Albers. “A bird is a bird and I don’t think it’s important if it’s a protected bird or not. And that’s what I do.” But saving the flamingos is what she’s most famous for, without a doubt. Bonaire, her adopted home of the past 32 years, is a tiny Dutch Caribbean island – about 40 kilometres long, 11 wide – off the coast of Venezuela, with a population of 20,000 people. It is also one of just four nesting locations in the world for the American flamingo. Once upon a time, Bonaire’s flamingo population outnumbered its human one. These days, with the exploding tourist trade on the island and subsequent population growth, this is no longer the case. But the good news is that the flamingo population is stable, though they face ongoing challenges. Despite their flamboyant appearance, flamingos are shy animals, and the breech of their limited breeding grounds by emboldened visitors can threaten the entire colony – halting their elaborate mating rituals and frightening the birds away. American flamingos are also incredibly light – a fully grown flamingo of around 1.5 metres will weigh between 2 and 3.5 kilos – so young flamingos are especially vulnerable to strong winds on the island, which can blow the tiny chicks away from the safety of their colony. In recent years an unprecedented number of flamingo chicks have been discovered away from their parents, underweight, malnourished and outside of their breeding colony. It’s been Albers who has come to their rescue. With what began as nothing but a vet’s manual, a few years of animal shelter experience, and her robust resourcefulness, she and a gang of dedicated volunteers set about feeding, housing and treating the beleaguered flamingos until they were confident enough to return to life in the wild. Albers has nursed more than a thousand flamingos back to good health since she established the rehab facility back in 2018, though a number of the magnificent pink birds do still pop into the shelter for a spot of breakfast in the morning. These wild creatures aren’t afraid to get close to Albers. In fact, photographer and fellow Bonaire resident Lorenzo Mittiga, who spent over a year documenting Albers’ work at the shelter, is certain they remember her. “Even if they are totally rehabilitated and auto sufficient, it seems that they remember the place where they were cured,” he says. “She’s given a lot. You can say, ‘Yes I love animals. I want to save animals. I’ll give money,’ whatever. But then to actually do it, and to be there… Sometimes she has hundreds of big birds that she’s trying to save.” His takeaway from the project? “You learn how fragile the ecosystem is, but you also learn how even a little bit of help – just one person – can make a difference.”

The team prepare a rescue flamingo for release into the wild. The towels protect the birds’ wings during transport.

Albers feeds a lost flamingo chick, using a rubber oesophageal tube. Flaminglets are typically fed every 20 minutes by regurgitation by the adult.

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Free as a...flamingo.

When strong winds hit the island, juvenile flamingos can be blown away from the shelter and safety of their colony.

Flamingos feeding in the brackish waters of Bonaire.

Tagged, rehabilitated flamingos mill around the shelter at breakfast time.

Ricky

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

I motioned at the majestic wolfhound sitting at the edge of the table.

by Ricky French @frenchricky

Wurst-Case Scenario

ational stereotypes are funny things and are surely about as accurate and logical as horoscopes. I speak as a horoscope writer myself. It’s probably problematic to even list them, so I’ll refrain from calling New Zealanders tiresome dullards who dress badly and don’t understand how vowels work. I speak as a New Zealander myself. It’s interesting to learn, though, how we’re perceived by other nationalities. It wouldn’t surprise you to learn that Australians are known as easygoing. I’ve talked to at least four people in Europe about this, so I know it to be true. That’s kind of how stereotypes work, isn’t it? You can just make sweeping generalisations and get away with it, because someone else once said the same thing. The image of Aussies as chilled-out beach bums extends to believing Australia to be a chilled-out, relaxed place to live, free of heavy-handed regulation and pointless rules. A place where you can do your own thing as long as no-one gets hurt. Alas, I’ve had to inform these people that their assumptions of Australia as being the Land of Anything Goes Mate are completely wrong. Australia, I recently explained to a German over a hotel buffet breakfast in the Austrian mountain town of Lech (that’s another story), is obsessed with rules. “Really?” he said. “How iz diz?” I motioned at the majestic wolfhound sitting at the edge of the table. “Well, for starters, we don’t allow wolfhounds to sit in the restaurants of fancy hotels.” “Really?” he said. “They make them stay in the hotel room?” I sighed and laid out a few home truths. “In Australia, dogs are not allowed anywhere.” “Really?” he said. I was beginning to think Germans begin every sentence with, “Really?” before I realised that would be a stereotype. I told him how we don’t allow dogs in hotels. Or in shops or pubs or cafes or

anywhere that has a roof. We barely even allow dogs outside. There are dedicated off‑leash areas where we let dogs be dogs for 10 minutes a day. Because every scrap of nice(ish) land not subdivided for cheap, ugly houses with no backyard for a dog is decreed a national park, it’s near impossible to find a piece of nature to walk your dog. Hardly any campgrounds will permit dogs. Last year we drove through the Snowy Mountains and stopped at the ghost town of Kiandra to let our dog out for a wee, and no sooner had her paws touched dirt than a ranger car came screeching up behind us so the park ranger could admonish us for releasing the hound. No matter that there are more than 14,000 feral horses (3000 of which are protected by law) and untold hundreds of thousands of feral deer and pigs desecrating the place, our red heeler must not go for a wee. And they say Germans are officious! In the UK and Europe, dogs seem to be compulsory adornments in every pub. I believe you’re not allowed to have a fireplace in an English pub without having a shaggy mutt sleeping in front of it. In America dogs fly on planes with their owners, and amazingly the plane doesn’t crash. Where is the Australian dog lobby in all of this? We have lobby groups for everything, so where is the “Canines for a Fairer Go” spokesperson? I told my new German friend all this, gesturing slightly wildly, as his wolfhound sat passively at his side, hoping for a scrap of breakfast wurst. The guy looked a bit scared. From now on he would tell his friends, “Don’t let Australians sit next to you at breakfast, they rant about pointless things and keep touching your dog.” A new stereotype is born every day.

Ricky is a writer and musician, doggone it!

by Fiona Scott-Norman @fscottnorman

PHOTOS BY JAMES BRAUND

ave you ever appeared in a TV commercial? Me neither. My actor pals pop up occasionally, say when an increasingly rare Australian-made ad appears on free-to-air. I don’t run with the perfect-skin‑and-symmetrical-face crowd, so we’re leaning more into ads which feature a “regular person” (larger than a size eight, older than 20), who is ecstatic about their super fund. You know the ads, average Aussies being momentarily lifted out of their averageness because they’ve a) chosen the right insurance, and b) can therefore gloat about their superior choices to their hapless colleague who has gone with the Wrong Provider. My mates getting coin is the only thing that can render an ad break palatable. Want to sell me something? Cast the ad entirely from my Facebook friends list. Man, I hate ads. Apart from the 2010 Old Spice magic realist reboot, obviously, which featured American footballer Isaiah Amir Mustafa, aka “the man your man could smell like”, shirtless on a horse. That was art, baby, and I presume, if I channel Mad Men for one hot minute, took the kind of bold pitch Don Draper would have celebrated with TWO bottles of top shelf whisky and a roll in the hay with one of his 19 mistresses. Those sorts of ads, though, the ones which feature on Gruen – aka the clever ones – rarely appear on Australian TV. We get overdubbed US “because you’re worth it” ads for shampoo and cars (so many cars), and bog-standard local items where mums gaze adoringly at their mop-headed children who adore their (insert processed food item here). When I grudgingly tune in to a commercial station, it takes me all of two ad breaks before I’m yelling at the screen to stop patronising me. It takes fortitude and anger therapy to make it through a season of Dancing With the Stars. So, obviously, I’m doing an ad. Whaaaat? I know. I’m the obvious choice for, let’s face it, nothing. I hate capitalism, and I’m too tall for

a crowd scene. But a friend works in a casting agency, and they were tasked with finding “fun-loving community groups of a certain age” to feature in a campaign, and popped The Screamers into the mix. The Screamers are my cold-water swimming peeps, and a more glorious bunch of kooky, independent and endorphin-charged bright‑eyed middle‑aged women (mostly), you will not find. Our unifying principles are lairy floral bathing caps, eccentric bathers, no wetsuits and screaming when we enter the water of Port Phillip Bay. Finally, our moment had arrived! Our self-taped audition was a hoot. Months later, finally chosen, we were called in for a meet-and-greet. The director’s vision, emailed the night before, spoke of “feeling our authenticity”, “luxe cinematography”, “aquatic movement warriors”, “paying homage to Esther Williams” and “a Vanity Fair-esque cover tableau, standing on water”. Terrifying. We duly turned up with outfits that had, as requested, “pops of colour” to “ping against the blue water” (ahaha have they been to Melbourne?). They’d dropped the Esther Williams and Vanity Fair scenes, alas, and our exuberant style choices, while most definitely “our authenticity”, were not being “felt”. It was two hours of the wardrobe lady reaching for euphemisms to ask us to “tone it down”. At one memorable juncture she enquired if we had “linen trousers” or “activewear”. No. No we don’t. We’re nutbags and feminists and outliers; isn’t that why you chose us? I suspect the advertising world wouldn’t know a “real person” if they fell over one. Still, The Screamers – 15 seconds of us – will appear on screen soon. Be happy for us, even if we’re in linen pants. At least we’re getting coin!

Fiona is an author and comedian who wears the (linen) pants.

14 APR 2022

Jingle Belles

It takes fortitude and anger therapy to make it through a season of Dancing With the Stars.

Fiona

Chasing Pavement by Doug Wallen @wallendoug

PAVEMENT, WITH BOB NASTANOVICH AT REAR RIGHT

PHOTO BY

Doug Wallen is a freelance writer and editor based in Victoria, and a former music editor of The Big Issue.

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Music

Pavement

Twenty-ish years after first disbanding, indie rock legends Pavement are reuniting (again) to reissue their final album…or is it?

PHOTO BY TARINA WESTLUND

PAVEMENT HYPE MAN BOB NASTANOVICH

“I’m amazed that people still care about it enough for it to go on,” says Bob Nastanovich, Pavement’s free-wheeling hype man and multi-instrumentalist. He laughs, however, at the latter job description. “That’s a lovely expression, but it suggests that you know how to play instruments.” Speaking over Zoom from his home in Paris, Tennessee – best known for hosting the world’s biggest catfish fry – Nastanovich is selling himself short. A fan favourite, he juggles various percussion on stage and screams when called for, partly to save the vocal cords of primary singer and guitarist Stephen Malkmus. Originally hired to keep time for the band’s first drummer, Gary Young, when he got too drunk to play live, Nastanovich stuck around even after Pavement hired his childhood pal Steve West as their subsequent drummer. In fact, one of Pavement’s most enduring catchphrases is directed squarely at Nastanovich. On the 1997 single ‘Stereo’, when Malkmus wonders aloud whether the eerily high voice of Rush singer Geddy Lee is more tempered in everyday life, Nastanovich chimes in that it indeed is, prompting Malkmus to dub him his “fact-checking cuz”. He has contributed memorable screams to live versions of songs like ‘Debris Slide’ and wailed on the harmonica for ‘Rattled By the Rush’. Live, he also plays the harmonica parts lent by Radiohead

TERROR TWILIGHT: FAREWELL HORIZONTAL IS OUT NOW.

14 APR 2022

I’m playing with an open deck. Every song is a new deal.

guitarist (and now film composer) Jonny Greenwood on two Terror Twilight tracks. While he insists that he could teach a stranger his live parts in half an hour, Nastanovich is an integral part of Pavement, both on and off record. He’s known Malkmus since they were teens together, and he managed the touring for Malkmus’ first solo album. He also played alongside Malkmus in fellow touchstone indie band Silver Jews, fronted by the late poet David Berman. As for how Radiohead’s in-house producer shaped Pavement’s swan song, Nastanovich points to the entwined influence of Godrich and an increasingly selfreliant Malkmus. “Nigel really Nigel-ised the record, in a good way,” he says. “That’s what we hired him for. Nigel became the sixth man in Pavement, and in some cases the second man. In a lot of ways, the record was made by Malkmus and Nigel.” Guitarist Scott “Spiral Stairs” Kannberg’s potential songwriting contributions ended up on his own solo records, and the newly unearthed Terror Twilight demos sound like a lo-fi blueprint for Malkmus’ lengthy solo career. At the time of making the album, everyone in Pavement lived in different parts of America, notes Nastanovich. Malkmus had already met the members of his future backing band, the Jicks, while living in Portland, and so would-be Pavement songs like ‘Discretion Grove’ wound up on Malkmus’ self-titled solo debut in 2001. “The end of Pavement had a lot to do with the fact that he wanted to work with people on a constant basis and flesh out his songs,” Nastanovich reflects. “He wanted to work on future music, and Pavement had made themselves unavailable for that.” While some Pavement fans baulk at the counterintuitive level of polish that Godrich applied to Terror Twilight, it’s a fascinating record. By turns folky, bluesy and jammy, it flirts with the very classic rock that Pavement once stood in apparent opposition to. (There’s even a cover of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s ‘Sinister Purpose’ among the reissue’s auxiliary material.) But Malkmus’ famously cryptic wordplay is still right in the fore, and Godrich’s suggested sequence – which graces the vinyl but not CD version of the reissue – kicks off with the more stoner rock bent of ‘Platform Blues’ and ‘The Hexx’. As for Pavement live, Nastanovich points out that the band began freely adapting their songs following a disastrous stint on the touring Lollapalooza festival in 1995. Malkmus would even alter specific moments purely for the fun of throwing off his bandmates. That prospect makes Pavement’s upcoming six-month run through Europe and the US especially enticing, with Nastanovich hoping to bring Pavement to Australia next year. If it happens, his off-the-cuff stage presence may just confirm him as Pavement’s most spontaneous member, even amid Malkmus’ cheeky ambushes. “I’m playing with an open deck,” he says. “Every song is a new deal.”

or a band that hasn’t released any new music for more than two decades, Pavement have stuck around with impressive tenacity. When the five-piece broke up in December 1999, they capped off an influential five-album run contained entirely within the 90s. That’s a neat trick for a band that already seemed synonymous with the decade, thanks to their shaggy guitars, smirking irony and seeming indifference to fame. The cult of Pavement only grew in the band’s absence, and a surprise 2010 reunion tour drew far larger audiences than previously seen. Though no new material came, deluxe reissues allowed fans to revisit stone-cold indie rock classics like Slanted and Enchanted (1992) and Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain (1994). Now the final Pavement album, Terror Twilight (1999), is landing with a wealth of extras, including extensive demos, live cuts, written commentary and even a different song sequence from producer Nigel Godrich. Best known for helming every Radiohead album since OK Computer (1997), Godrich was responsible for Pavement’s slickest sounding record by far. About to embark on a world tour, the most distinctive American band of the 90s is enjoying a second – or is it third? – act.

Jane Caro

Books

Home Truths Walkley Award-winning journalist Jane Caro has turned to crime, penning a domestic thriller with a social conscience.

@elizabethflux

Elizabeth Flux is a writer of both fiction and non‑fiction, and is the editor-at-large for the Melbourne City of Literature Office.

PHOTO BY DAVID HAHN

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by Elizabeth Flux

The Mother is an exploration of coercive control, a form of domestic abuse. Caro was conscious to treat the subject with respect and sensitivity. “It’s not my lived experience – that’s why I centred the character of Miriam. It’s not her lived experience either, she observes it.” Having Miriam as the protagonist shows the reader how quietly abuse can happen, how it can be almost completely hidden – and how an abuser can manipulate a person’s natural tendency to not want to think the worst. Miriam starts to grow concerned about Ally. There are small clues here and there that everything isn’t alright. But, for the most part, she can explain the issues away. The couple not wanting her to visit? That’s just newlyweds wanting their privacy. Ally not following through on her plans for work and further study? Maybe she just needs a break. As readers we know there must be something going on, but at the same time, as we watch Miriam rationalise each instance, we understand how easy it can be to not see what is going on. The fear of not being believed, of assigning blame in the wrong direction, forms a strong thread throughout the novel. “We don’t want to believe this is happening,” says Caro. “So it’s an understandable reaction – but it’s not an acceptable reaction.” Abuse takes on forms beyond the physical, but general understanding – and the reach of the law – has yet to catch up. Asked about why more conversations about coercive control are urgently needed, Caro responds immediately. “We have a stereotyped view of what domestic abuse is: the classic woman with a black eye who says

THE MOTHER IS OUT NOW.

14 APR 2022

Fiction can get people out of their head…into their guts, into their heart, into compassion.

she walked into a door,” she says. “In fact, [physical] violence may not exist in an abusive relationship. I’ve read research which shows that [when it does], some women say that’s the least of it – that actually the most insidious side of abusive relationships is this psychological control and basic undermining of the – usually – woman’s sense of self, sense of confidence, sense of reality.” In researching the novel, Caro explains how, in addition to extensive reading – with See What You Made Me Do by Jess Hill, in particular, an invaluable resource – she spoke to many people who work in the domestic violence sector, pointing specifically to the help of Annabelle Daniel, the CEO of Women’s Community Shelters. Daniel directed Caro to read the judgment in the Simon Gittany case. Gittany was convicted in 2013 for the murder of his fiancée Lisa Harnum. “Annabelle said to me, this is the single best kind of summing up of coercive control I’ve ever seen.” Over the course of Caro’s research, what she found was “actually even more horrifying than I already thought”. She hopes that a novel will reach a different audience to a non-fiction work, acting as a complement to the books already out there and bringing about wider discussion. “I feel that fiction can get people out of their head, out of judgement, and into their guts, into their heart, into compassion. And that’s what we really need in this space. We need people to stop doing the victim blaming.” The Mother highlights the flaws in the system, the frustration, the very real dangers that come when a person tries to break free from an abusive relationship – and takes on the oft asked and extremely callous question: why didn’t she just leave? “I wanted to really challenge that kind of thinking and get people to, by the end of the book, think, Oh my god, I can see how that could happen – and how it could happen to anyone.” Caro hopes The Mother will spark conversations that need to be had and lead to deeper reflection, “particularly about how we groom boys and girls to be predators and prey”. She points to the language of romance and even wedding vows as being all about chase, conquest and ownership. “To have and to hold. Till death do us part. It’s all about possession. “We need to look at how we bring up boys and girls. If we bring up boys to believe that to be masculine means to dominate, then we’re creating an environment that is risky for them, in that they may be able to give full vent to the dark side of their nature. All of us have dark sides to our nature – the point of civilisation is to help us control and minimise those dark sides,” she says. “We bring up little girls to believe that being submissive and sacrificial, giving things up for others, is the point of being female. Well, you can see how that’s a toxic mix.”

here was a moment when Jane Caro was putting together The Mother that she worried what she was writing was unrealistic. The thriller novel is about Miriam Duffy, a woman whose world view starts to crumble as she realises her daughter, Ally, is trapped in an abusive relationship. Caro laces the first half of the story with small red flags, things that could – and are – easily explained away by Miriam. But, when the full horrors begin to be revealed, Caro wondered if what she was writing reflected reality. “I knew that from the technical side of writing this book, I had to make Ally’s situation as dire as possible, to make it understandable what happens next,” she explains. “So, I went to a friend of mine, who is one of Australia’s top family law practitioners, and said ‘Have I gone over the top here?’ “He said, ‘No – you’ve just summarised half the files on my desk.’” It was a realisation Caro describes as devastating.

Pachinko

Small Screens The cast and creator of epic family drama Pachinko talk life, love and the weight of ancestral inheritance in this sprawling new series.

he vibrant colours of a pachinko parlour serve as the dizzying, electric backdrop for the opening credits of Pachinko, which sees the cast dance uninhibitedly to the 1967 song ‘Let’s Live for Today’ by The Grass Roots. These scenes are cut and edited with archival footage of Japan’s colonial

by Donnalyn Xu @doonaluna

Donnalyn Xu is a poet, writer and arts worker from Sydney. occupation of Korea, interweaving the past with the present, fiction with reality, the suffering with the joyful, and everything in between. “Life is this balance, and maybe a crazy balance,” says creator, co-writer and executive producer Soo Hugh. “But it’s that balance between laughter and tears. It’s

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Smoke and Mirrors

PACHINKO CREATOR SOO HUGH

THREE GENERATIONS OF SUNJA: YOUN YUH-JUNG (TOP), YU-NA JEON (BOTTOM) AND KIM MIN-HA (FAR LEFT), WITH LEE MIN-HO

PACHINKO IS NOW STREAMING ON APPLE TV+.

14 APR 2022

Life is this balance…maybe a crazy balance

young assistant to adjust the nails of pachinko machines so each game is rigged, he says, “Most people think if they can flick the handle just right, they will win. But they have no control over the outcome. Not really. And neither do we.” While the show ambitiously traces Sunja’s migrant history through an epic narrative across decades, it is sustained by the quiet details of everyday life, much like the slightly bent nails of a pachinko game: the flavour of white rice, the shared conversations between women, or the familiar turn of the streets leading towards home. “It didn’t feel like I was doing something that happened a long time ago,” observes Japanese New Zealander actor Anna Sawai, who plays Solomon’s co-worker Naomi. “I think a lot of people will see it as something that they encounter in their everyday life right now.” This feels especially poignant in scenes exploring the experiences of women, from being denied an education in Yeongdo in 1915, to encountering the male-dominated corporate world of Tokyo in 1989. However, the resonances between the women in Pachinko are more than simply the burdens carried over years. They are also illuminated by their hope, spirit and vulnerability. “Let’s be scared together,” a young Sunja says to her new sister-in-law Kyunghee (Jung Eun-chae) as they hesitate outside a moneylender’s office in Japan. “Perhaps some strength can come out of it.” Although this scene is specific to the trials that Sunja and Kyunghee face as two women doing “men’s work” without their husbands in 1920, this conversation is instantly familiar to modern audiences. In many ways, the blissful opening title sequence reflects where we stand in relation to the stories of our ancestors – how history cuts into the present, and how this knowledge is both the source of pain and a balm that brings us comfort. Perhaps it is how we would like to imagine our cast of characters after seeing the hardship of their lives in every episode: smiling, brightly lit, dancing to the same chorus in a shared space, connected despite all their distances.

between crying and between sadness and joy, and just making sure that the full spectrum of feelings is explored in the show. That was always the intent.” Based on Min Jin Lee’s bestselling 2017 novel, Pachinko crosses multiple generations and geographies to tell the story of Sunja (Yu-na Jeon as a child, Kim Min-ha as a teenager, and Minari’s Youn Yuh-jung as a grandmother) over a period of 70 years. Growing up near the Japanese-occupied port city of Busan in the early 20th century, Sunja’s fateful encounter with the Korean-born Japanese fish broker Hansu (Lee Min-ho, Boys Over Flowers) propels her into a new life as a migrant “Zainichi” – a Korean person with permanent residency in Japan – in Osaka. Her experiences have a lasting, rippling effect on the lives of her descendants. The series signals the lasting importance of uplifting these untold migrant and diasporic histories beyond flattened narratives. “For so much of history, the stories of Sunja were not captured,” says Hugh. “They were never considered important enough to be part of the historical record. “It is the Sunjas of the world – the people who actually do the labour, who go to the rice fields and get the rice that is put on the table – that are really building and making something that we need. They’re a necessity,” she says. Straying from the linear timeline of the novel, Sunja’s coming-of-age occurs simultaneously alongside her grandson Solomon’s (Jin Ha, Love Life) in 1989. Their stories are entangled through a visual slicing, where events separated by years are isolated only by seconds. This structure feels essential to Korean American actor Ha, who believes, “[It’s] impossible [to] not contend with our past by trying to make any differences or changes in the present. “There is no end to the unravelling of how each event – each world event, national event, or national tragedy – links to the previous, or to the next,” says Ha. The past does not feel like a flashback, or a cinematic act of remembering what once was. Rather, these delicate threads lead to visceral ways of experiencing history in the present. Pachinko, like the gambling arcade game from which it takes its name, is ultimately a story of chance, loss, triumph and misfortune. As Sunja’s son Mozasu (Soji Arai) teaches a

Film Reviews

Aimee Knight Film Editor @siraimeknight

y birthday is 21 April (in case you were wondering) and I happen to share it with one of my favourite directors, Elaine May, who’s 90 this year. One half of 1950s comedy duo Nichols and May, and an uncredited script doctor on hits like Reds (1981) and Tootsie (1982), she made a career of punching up. Or, rather, she tried – directing a handful of barbed bangers in the 70s before a notorious flop sealed her fate as Hollywood’s No#1 “difficult woman” (very Taurean behaviour). These days, outside of dedicated film-nerdy circles, May’s work waits in relative obscurity, and more’s the pity, as her acidic wit eats through the myth of “male genius” with glee. The sharpest example of this is her widely derided Ishtar (1987). It stars Warren Beatty and Dustin Hoffman as palpably untalented lounge singers who get caught in the furore of an international incident. Like her previous features A New Leaf (1971), The Heartbreak Kid (1972) and Mikey and Nicky (1976), it’s a precise dissection of male hubris, though it’s the only one with a surprisingly gooey centre: soft-boy friendship. A blown-out budget and on-set squabbling saw Ishtar branded DOA before it even reached cinemas. The film now lives in infamy as one of the all-time worst, though it’s truly anything but. As May herself – recipient of an honorary Oscar this year – has said, “If all of the people who hate Ishtar had seen it, I would be a rich woman today.” Rent or buy it on iTunes this Taurus season to make May’s day and mine. AK

MAKE MAY’S DAY

WHEN THE CAMERA STOPPED ROLLING 

A prophetic intro sets a sombre tone for Jane Castle’s documentary, which reveals the troubled history behind seemingly happy pictures of her mother, Lilias Fraser. Fraser was a pioneering but under-appreciated Australian filmmaker who shot and directed industrial documentaries and land rights films. Castle also became a cinematographer, shooting big music videos in the US, though she confesses that working abroad was really to escape their tenuous relationship. Castle traces the clues recounting distressing moments from her mother’s troubling childhood, abusive marriage, financial hardships, mental health and issues of her own, all of which can be overwhelming – and could have been given more room for complexity. While the archival footage is beautiful, the film’s structure and biographical formula become limiting. Castle’s yearning to understand and get closer to someone after their death is affecting, but doesn’t provoke deeper meditation when so much evidence is asking for further exploration. ALLISON CHHORN EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE

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Everything Everywhere All at Once lives up to its title: the sci-fi-action-comedy-drama follows Evelyn (Michelle Yeoh), a struggling laundry owner whose tax audit is interrupted by an imminent multiverse collapse that only she can stop. Evelyn can tap into the skills of her alternate lives across the multiverse as a martial artist, sign spinner or hibachi chef, using them in some truly gonzo fight scenes. To say any more would be giving too much away. Fans of director duo Dan Kwan and Daniel Scheinert’s previous film Swiss Army Man will know they can turn a one-note gag into a devastating emotional moment (though some might find some jokes too crass). The cinematography, editing and costumes are all exceptional, and the supporting cast live up to Yeoh’s tour-de-force performance as every Evelyn. In a year of world-ending multiverse superhero movies, Everything Everywhere All at Once hits home because of the small-scale decisions across Evelyn’s different lives, and the very human story at its heart. TANSY GARDAM

THE GOOD BOSS 

Javier Bardem takes on perhaps his most dastardly role yet, playing the sensationally smarmy CEO Blanco – stinking rich and morally bankrupt – in this corporate satire from director Fernando León de Aranoa (Loving Pablo, 2017). The seemingly simple goal of winning a local competition for good business is jeopardised for boss Blanco by a series of workplace dramas, which he tries to resolve using increasingly questionable methods. The film’s farcical plot may be both over-stuffed and thin on surprises, but Bardem is clearly having fun here flexing his comic muscle. Wearing a fluffed‑up mop of grey hair, paternalistic wire‑rimmed glasses and a pearly smile that surely conceals fangs, he delivers a magnetic, gratuitously grating performance, full of self-aggrandising, longwinded speeches to employees, each word sticky with condescension. A huge hit with Spanish audiences, and a gleefully dark examination of class, entitlement and the rabid pursuit of success, no matter the cost. ANNABEL BRADY-BROWN

Small Screen Reviews

Claire Cao Small Screens Editor @clairexinwen

OUTER RANGE  | 15 APRIL ON PRIME VIDEO

ROAR

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 | 15 APRIL ON APPLE TV+

Hot on the tail of the money paper trail, trapper turned rapper Alfred “Paper Boi” (Brian Tyree Henry, Eternals) and his manager/cousin Earn (Donald Glover) embark on a European tour, doing what they do best: getting into deep shit. Episodic and nonlinear, Atlanta blends a wide variety of themes under the guise of comedy. Each episode is akin to opening a jack-in-the-box – you never know exactly what’s in store, who the protagonist is, or whether to laugh, cry or watch on in disbelief. For all its multifariousness, each moment is underscored by contextualising the Black experience. It’s perhaps the one subject never played for a joke; everything else surrounding it just happens to be steeped in the surreal. Every scenario, like the characters performing for audience members who are in blackface, presents uncanny obstacles for the gang to hurdle over. Atlanta never misses a step, carried by the robust talent of its ensemble players. The characters often stumble, but always get back into the hustle. BRUCE KOUSSABA

This darkly comic anthology series, based on a short story collection by Irish writer Cecelia Ahern, uses gothic fairytale elements to explore contemporary social dynamics. Featuring an all-star cast, including Nicole Kidman and Cynthia Erivo, each of the eight episodes focuses on a different woman. The pilot, starring Insecure’s Issa Rae with a teleplay by Janine Nabers, follows a Black writer who physically vanishes into the whitewashed Hollywood machine when her lauded memoir is optioned for film. It’s sharp, witty and powerful, with some delicious meta irony given that the team behind this series consists of mostly white women (the showrunners are Carly Mensch and Liz Flahive, the duo behind GLOW). Other episodes struggle to develop beyond a clever premise. GLOW star Betty Gilpin’s episode, ‘The Woman Who Was Kept on a Shelf’, is exactly what it says on the tin – a delightfully absurd idea, but even a Björk-esque dance break can’t distract from the thin story. Roar often feels like spun sugar: magnificent but weightless. JINGHUA QIAN

ow much of the self is shaped by childhood? The memories may be hazy, but a simple sound or smell (the toll of a school bell, your grandma’s cooking) can instantly sink you into an ocean of visceral associations. Cloisters Interactive and Annapurna Interactive’s A Memoir Blue collapses the barriers of space-time, featuring a champion swimmer that travels through dreamlike aquatic landscapes to better understand her mother, and herself. Completely wordless, the storytelling hinges on a seamless blend of 2D and 3D animation, accompanied by a haunting indie rock score. The player doesn’t have much agency, and any puzzles are straightforward. It’s primarily an atmospheric exploration of bitterness, love and the things we keep buried in the past. Now available on PC, PlayStation 4 and 5, Nintendo Switch, Xbox One and Xbox Series X|S. More time-warp adventures await in the second season of sleeper hit Russian Doll, on Netflix 20 April. The first season followed two emotionally damaged New Yorkers (Natasha Lyonne and Charlie Barnett) who were caught in a never-ending time loop. The pair’s oddball, fatalistic friendship buoyed the series, which nailed an incredibly moving ending. This time, the scope is bigger: chock-full of subway wormholes, intergenerational trauma, stolen gold and surreal house parties. Frantically zipping from present day to the 1980s and beyond, the series loses much of the heart that made it special. But Lyonne’s smoky drawl is as lovable as ever, anchoring the gonzo Doctor Who-style madness. Time – what a concept! CC

14 APR 2022

ATLANTA SEASON 3

OUT OF THE BLUE

Wyoming is the least populous US state: a vast canvas of plains, ready for metaphysical mystery. It’s here where Prime Video’s Yellowstone/Stranger Things hybrid sets the Abbott family ranch. Ever since the disappearance of his daughter-in-law, patriarch Royal (Josh Brolin) has struggled to keep himself lassoed together. His wife Cecilia (Lili Taylor) puts on a brave face, and his rodeo-riding sons can’t buck their regret and alcoholism. When he happens upon a big cartoony Wile E Coyote void in his outer paddocks, Royal realises this really ain’t no country for old men. Is it a supernatural portal, summoning cowboys vs aliens action? Or just an obvious metaphor for the vacuum of grief? As we see in the pilot’s gut-punch ending, it’s mostly a great way to dispose of dirty secrets. Though the series is not as original as something like Twin Peaks – there’s even a Log Lady guy, who talks to a mounted bison head – the pacing and elemental cinematography prove absorbing. You might just get sucked in too. ELIZA JANSSEN

Music Reviews

Isabella Trimboli Music Editor

LUNCH TIME

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recent bout of mandated isolation at home gave me time to rediscover and explore some fascinating, great music podcasts – new and old. No Wave legend Lydia Lunch has teamed up with bassist Tim Dahl for The Lydian Spin, where the duo conduct freewheeling, digressive and funny conversations with a bunch of artists working on the fringes of culture. Highlights include interviews with queer filmmaker Bruce LaBruce and punk icon Kid Congo Powers. Cultural critic Yasi Salek hosts the wonderful Bandsplain, where guests make a case for beloved artists often relegated to cult fame, misunderstood by the general public, or simply so ubiquitous that their genius is often dwarfed by their fame. This includes SoCal’s finest Sublime, Randy Newman and Liz Phair. The New York Times’ Popcast has been around for a while now, but they keep things interesting with wide-ranging episodes that explore trends and movements in modern music. Hosted by pop music critic Jon Caramanica, recent episodes have included discussions on reggaeton, rediscovering the pioneering funk of Betty Davis, and getting a bunch of TikTok music critics to round up the year’s music. Then there’s Dolly Parton’s Run, Rose, Run (Spotify is labelling it a “bookcast”), which is a companion piece to a pulpy novel she’s penned with James Patterson. A thriller about a young woman desperate for music stardom, with new Dolly tunes peppered throughout, it is a ridiculous, fun and incredibly soapy listen. IT

@itrimboli

SAMPOLOGY REGROWTH REARRANGED 

The Brisbane DJ, producer and auteur Sampology (Sam Poggioli) generated global interest with his ambitious album Regrowth last year. Now Poggioli is following with an inventive companion EP. Regrowth Rearranged contains reimaginings of two key tracks – both clubby remixes and left-field covers – for (bedroom) DJs and playlist curators. The mysterious Melbourne combo Glass Beams transform the jazzy ‘Ten Foot Flowers’ into mystic after-hours psychedelia, complete with a conga and sitar – their ‘Desert Flower Edition’ curiously evoking those Jon English-produced Australian prog-rockers Sebastian Hardie. Different again, Queensland band Izy remake the groovy ‘Running Around’ (itself inspired by the sadly forgotten American vocal group The Masqueraders) into a Prince-esque jam. The big coup here is a rare remix from Chicago deep house pioneer Ron Trent, the man behind ‘Altered States’ (1990). He turns ‘Running Around’ into a hypnotic underground epic. The only shortcoming? Poggioli might have developed Regrowth Rearranged into a full project, rivalling something like Ex-Olympian’s excellent Afterlife Remixed. CYCLONE WEHNER

ROSALÍA MOTOMAMI

MESHUGGAH IMMUTABLE

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Rarely is pop as deeply experimental as MOTOMAMI, but rarely are pop artists as bold as Spanish artist Rosalía. Rising to international acclaim in 2018 with her second album El Mal Querer – a high-concept blend of flamenco, pop and Latin trap – Rosalía followed with a series of rapid-fire hit singles with the likes of J Balvin, Travis Scott and Billie Eilish. MOTOMAMI is a confidently chaotic and playful victory lap, where a crystalline, incredibly explicit piano ballad (‘HENTAI’) is sandwiched between ridiculous reggaeton (‘CHICKEN TERIYAKI’) and glitchy, deconstructed club (‘BIZCOCHITO’). Rosalía describes MOTOMAMI as “implicitly feminist” in its design, refusing to be defined by any one idea. Opener ‘SAOKO’ signposts the album’s richness, industrial-reggaeton underpinned by free jazz drumming and named after Puerto Rican slang for having one’s own boisterous rhythm. MOTOMAMI’s is a staccato of endless pivots: as Rosalía spits, “Me contradigo, yo me transformo”. It’s aweinspiring to keep up. JARED RICHARDS

Contemporary metal seems to be stuck in an endless arms race of sonic brutality. In stark and refreshing contrast, Immutable shines through this glut of over-production and over-complication with a mature commitment to Meshuggah’s signature pummelling sound. Echoes of their younger, thrashier catalogue are felt with guitarist Fredrik Thordendal’s dense harmonies and a flurry of angular solos, which mix with the band’s familiar seismic guitar tones (somehow getting heavier with each release). In a recent interview, drummer Tomas Haake described the band’s constant search for the “this”; the immediacy which defines the sound of Meshuggah across a 35-year career. On Immutable, their ninth studio album, the Swedish extreme metal legends remain stridently original, iterating and exploring the nuances of rhythm. In some ways, Meshuggah’s work is akin to the New York School of minimalist composition: always hypnotic, with tessellating riffs that unfold themselves satisfyingly on repeat listens. ATTICUS BASTOW

Book Reviews

Melissa Fulton Deputy Editor @melissajfulton

t’s dinnertime in the suburbs of London, 1967, and the conventional Fischer family – pretty homemaker Phyllis, her buttoned-up Foreign Office husband Roger and their two children – are waiting on a guest. Twenty-something bourgeois bohemian Nicky lopes in as they’re about to start the terrine, and leaves having kissed Phyllis, sparking a many-tentacled affair that changes their lives forever. What follows is a tale of freedom, desire and the search for one’s true self, a family’s complete upheaval and the reimagining of society all around them. Tessa Hadley (Late in the Day) captures the explosion of swinging London through the microcosm of the Fischers, who aren’t nearly as straight as you might expect. I don’t know if anyone can capture their characters’ inner worlds so completely, so empathically, as Tessa Hadley. She is as kind as she is clever in her observations of this flawed, familiar cast of characters – petulant Nicky, dejected teenager Colette, wonderfully no-nonsense nurse Barbara Jones and Paul, famous sculptor and infamous pants man. Even the settings themselves, the stifling perfection of the Fischer’s home in Otterley and the ravaged glamour of Ladbroke Grove’s Everglade, vibrate with meaning and tumult. Free Love is domestic fiction at its best – deceptively smashable, quietly transcendent, flickering with possibility. Everyone should read it. MF

When the Cunningham family decide to hold a reunion, it’s clear it won’t be without serious issues, and that’s before they find themselves stranded halfway up a mountain, with bodies piling up faster and deeper than the snow drifts keeping them on ice. The fact that Ernie Cunningham, a teacher who’s long tried to distance himself from his family’s criminal roots, provided the evidence that sent his own brother down for murder, is just the opening twist in one of the most original crime releases of the year. From Australian standup comedian and author Benjamin Stevenson, this fiendishly clever blend of classic murder mystery and modern thriller will satisfy readers across the genres, with humour, guile and ingenuity in equal parts. If Ernie is hesitant to go up the mountain to begin with, readers won’t want to put his story down. Already snapped up by HBO for future serialisation, this is undoubtedly a future classic just waiting to be unearthed. CRAIG BUCHANAN AT CERTAIN POINTS WE TOUCH LAUREN JOHN JOSEPH 

This debut novel by playwright and performer Lauren John Joseph is a raw, frenetic coming-of-age story about JJ, a young experimental artist searching for their place. Written as a posthumous missive to a lost lover, the novel attempts to honour – even revive – the dead. The book is a strung-together series of encounters, parties and come-downs, long for a story that rarely pauses to offer context, but short for one that attempts to collapse a whole life (several even) into its pages. It’s an ambitious undertaking, and one that doesn’t always work. Although the writing is vivid and immersive, the reader is always the observer, never quite in on the joke. There is something brutally true about John Joseph’s writing: they capture the exquisite brutality of early adulthood, the jarring tug-of-war between eye-watering hope and crashing failure. There is a delight in language and dialogue that keeps the narrative moving, and while the characters in the book aren’t always particularly likeable, they are undeniably, breathtakingly alive. BEC KAVANAGH

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First-time author Ennis Ćehić channels his years of work in the advertising industry for this distinctive collection of stories. These darkly comic vignettes double as fables for our current age of splintered attention spans and pervasive corporate culture. Most are set in the world of advertising, with frustrated creativity a running theme. One outlier unfolds in Sarajevo, the city that Ćehić calls home along with Melbourne, while the closer plays with the idea of autobiography. That’s far from the only self-reflexive moment here: characters experience surprise visitations from deities and spirits, and impossible turns of events ambush mundane workplaces. It’s more Black Mirror than Mad Men. Unfortunately, the zippy brevity and repeated, hyper-specific settings wind up limiting their appeal, while too often the endings feel like easy punchlines. Ćehić proves himself a natural at shorthand character work – if only he would expand his focus and further develop his narratives. DOUG WALLEN

14 APR 2022

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SADVERTISING ENNIS ĆEHIĆ

EVERYONE IN MY FAMILY HAS KILLED SOMEONE BENJAMIN STEVENSON

Public Service Announcement

by Lorin Clarke @lorinimus

Recently, I sent another friend an exchange of emails between the two of us that I had unearthed from decades ago. We discussed our younger selves patronisingly and then both agreed that, looking back, we shouldn’t have been so worried about all the things we were worried about back then. These decades-old email chains were embarrassing! We were always complaining! About how busy we were or how we weren’t achieving certain things and how we just wished we knew how things would turn out. We were in such a hurry, we realise now. Why were we in such a hurry? In the rear-vision mirror, we can see that actually, life was amazing! Why didn’t those younger (foolish) versions of us realise it at the time? It reminds me of someone I used to work with who, when passing strangers in the street while driving, would beep her car horn and wave like mad, sometimes calling out buoyant things like, “Hahahiiii!” The pedestrians always waved back, arms snapping up and bodies swivelling around, smiling broadly, then quietly chatting to the person next to them. “Why would you do that?” we’d ask her. She’d shrug. “Everyone likes to feel loved,” she’d say. Looking at things from a different perspective often shakes you out of yourself a bit. Doesn’t have to be someone yelling at you from a passing car either. It can be quite literal. A harried barista lights up with joy when her child comes into the shop. A view from a high window gives you a silent, distant view of people in a

park. That kid running after that dog. Those people having a picnic. A birthday cake. A barbecue. So many people with little problems they’re worrying about that don’t matter from up here and won’t matter a couple of decades in the future. You don’t have to go up a building, either. Walk into some nature. Watch a bee. Try to imagine what time means for a bird. What love means to a ringtail possum. What goes through the mind of a dog as it dreams on the floor before the fire. The chance of being born on this planet is miniscule. We don’t even really know what life is. We’ve been fighting about that very question ever since…well, not even that has been settled. The point is, life is full of many things. You’re not going to make the right decision every time. You’re probably going to disappoint people. You’re probably going to get a few surprises. There’ll be moments of frustration or boredom. There will also be moments of joy. When I think of that friendship with my mate whose emails I found, I remember us riding our bikes together at night down an inner-city street in the summer, laughing at something one of us said, on the way to dance to great music until the bands went home. I don’t remember the things we were complaining about in the emails. I am sure they were important at the time, but that’s not what we measure our lives by now. When you meet up with someone you haven’t seen for a long time, the answer to that question “How have you been?” often results in an answer like, “Yeah, good”. Or a summary of one or two major events. But maybe “How have you been?” shouldn’t be the only reason to look back on your own experience with a sense of perspective. How have I been? Well, I’ve done well to be born. I’ve spent time in nature. I’ve been dancing. I rode my bike down a summer street with a friend. I’ve been good, thanks! Public Service Announcement: have a look at your own life from the moon. The view can be quite lovely.

Lorin Clarke is a Melbourne-based writer. The new series of her radio and podcast series, The Fitzroy Diaries, is on ABC Radio National and the ABC Listen app now.

saw someone I haven’t seen for ages the other day. “It’s been so long!” we both exclaimed. “How have you beeeeen?” It was a lovely instinct in both of us that sparked the question, but we ended up discussing how difficult it is to answer. How does one summarise everything that’s happened over the last five years (especially these five years, am I right?). There was something about it that was liberating, though. Like looking at your workplace not from the lunchroom, but from the moon. Public Service Announcement: how are you doing? Doesn’t matter! Don’t overthink it! Look at it from the moon.

14 APR 2022

Moon With a View

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

Tastes Like Home edited by Anastasia Safioleas

FOOD PHOTO BY GEORGIA MCDERMOTT

Tastes Like Home Georgia McDermott

Hot Cross Buns Ingredients Makes 8-9 buns

For the crosses 1 tablespoon tapioca flour 2 teaspoons buckwheat flour ½ teaspoon oil of choice Water, as needed to form a thick but flowing paste

For the glaze Pure maple syrup or marmalade, melted

Method The night before, place the warm milk and sugar in a small bowl and whisk to combine. Sprinkle over the yeast and set aside for 10 minutes, until the mixture is bubbling and foamy. If you have no action after 10 minutes, start again with new yeast. Place flours, spices, brown sugar, psyllium and orange zest in a large bowl and whisk to combine. Add the activated yeast mixture, oil and water, whisking until smooth. Don’t panic at how wet the dough looks – the psyllium husk will firm it up overnight. Cover and refrigerate overnight. The next morning, the dough should look spongy and be borderline wet. Stir in the dried peel, chocolate chips and, if using, the rosemary. Using oiled hands, divide mixture into 8 or 9 portions and quickly roll into balls. Place buns in a 20 x 30cm baking dish, lightly greased or lined, or on a lined baking tray. Buns baked on a tray will lose more shape, but still taste delicious. Cover and leave to prove in a warm draught-free place for 1 hour, or until they have tangibly risen and feel light and puffy to the touch. Preheat oven to 180°C. To make the crosses, combine flours and oil in a small bowl. Add enough water to make a thick but flowing paste. Transfer mixture to a piping bag. Pipe crosses onto the buns using even pressure and motion. I go for the “homemade” look. Bake buns for 25-30 minutes, or until lightly browned and baked through. Remove from oven and glaze with maple syrup or marmalade while still hot. Allow to cool for 10-15 minutes before eating.

Georgia says…

ne of my all-time favourite scents is a heavily spiced hot cross bun wafting through the kitchen. It reminds me of school holidays, getting the family together and the traditional, abrupt wake-up call from the fire brigade truck collecting donations for the Good Friday Appeal. Suburban kids with a penchant for sleep-ins will be acutely familiar. When I first started having digestive issues in my early twenties, buying a gluten-free, fructose-friendly hot cross bun was out of the question. Determined to keep that glorious scent (and the bun) in my life, I set about making my own. These buns are gluten-free, egg‑free, dairy-free and vegan. They’re also fructose friendly, using chocolate and fruit peel instead of currants and raisins. They are heavily spiced without overdoing it, bringing back memories of Easter egg hunts and unbridled enthusiasm for hosting the family (because hosting means leftovers). The buns are held together with psyllium husk, a magical ingredient that binds gluten-free baked goods together as gluten normally would. The flours involved are buckwheat flour and brown rice flour. Rice flour often gets a bad rap for having a strong taste and sandy consistency, but the stuff sold at bulk food stores is fresher and more finely milled. To any suburban kid bemoaning the wake up this year – you’ll miss it when it’s gone. Plus, more time for hot cross buns. INTOLERANCE-FRIENDLY KITCHEN BY GEORGIA MCDERMOTT IS OUT NOW.

14 APR 2022

500ml (2 cups) water 2 tablespoons good quality dried peel 2 tablespoons dairy-free chocolate chips Few sprigs of finely chopped rosemary (optional)

60ml (¼ cup) FODMAPfriendly plant-based milk of choice, warm 1 teaspoon sugar (any type) 7.5g (1 sachet) dried yeast 160g (1 cup) fine brown rice flour 120g (¾ cup) buckwheat flour 1½ tablespoons ground cinnamon 1 tablespoon ground nutmeg 150g light or dark brown sugar 20g psyllium husk Finely grated zest of 1 orange 125ml (½ cup) olive or vegetable oil

Puzzles

ANSWERS PAGE 45.

By Lingo! by Lee Murray leemurray.id.au AMAZING

CLUES 5 letters Carried chair Cut to pieces In the bronze position Pace, step Piece of broken pottery 6 letters Cotton string Delay, obstruct Passionate Shore, beach Single long step 7 letters By way of replacement Coached Sacred, hallowed 8 letters Percolated, sieved

D H

Sudoku

by websudoku.com

Each column, row and 3 x 3 box must contain all numbers 1 to 9.

9 2 4 3 5 2 4 1 6 7 3 6 2 8 9 6 2 3 8 4 9 6 2 5 1 2 3 7

Puzzle by websudoku.com

Solutions CROSSWORD PAGE 45 ACROSS 1 Melody 4 Headroom 10 Satisfied 11 Sheer

12 Lack 13 Embroidery 15 Compact 16 Eulogy 19 Grocer 21 Sandbox 23 Locomotion 25 Urge 27 Crook 28 Extremist 29 Discrete 30 Safety

DOWN 1 Misplace 2 Latecomer 3 Disc 5 Endorse 6 Discipline 7 Obese 8 Martyr 9 Kismet 14 Matchmaker 17 Gabardine 18 Expertly 20 Retreat 21 Sporty 22 Placid 24 Cross 26 Mesa

20 QUESTIONS PAGE 9 1 England 2 Chis Rock 3 Germany 4 Earendel 5 Jordon Steele-John 6 Black, white, teal and silver 7 Jane Harper 8 & (an ampersand) 9 Tomatoes 10 Kenneth Branagh 11 Hokkaido 12 b) 300 13 Greek 14 Christina Aguilera 15 Escape from Alcatraz 16 Sir Lewis Hamilton 17 Spinnerets 18 Othello 19 Peter Gutwein 20 One

14 APR 2022

Using all nine letters provided, can you answer these clues? Every answer must include the central letter. Plus, which word uses all nine letters?

by puzzler.com

Word Builder

You definitely wouldn’t have wanted me to amaze you in the 11th century. Back then, the Old English amasian meant “stupefy” or “stun” – possibly by hitting someone on the head. So, if you found something amazing, it was confusing, bewildering or terrifying you. It was 500 or so years later that it took on the “astonishing” sense that we use today. One of the first known appearances of amaze with this meaning was in the late 1500s, from – who else? – Shakespeare. While all this was going on, another form of amazing popped up: one without the a-. Mazing “confusing and deceptive” didn’t last to the present day, but its noun form maze is still around: a complex structure designed to confuse you as you try to find your way out of it.

Crossword

by Steve Knight

Quick Clues

THE ANSWERS FOR THE CRYPTIC AND QUICK CLUES ARE THE SAME. ANSWERS PAGE 43.

9 10

ACROSS

1 Tune (6) 4 Clearance (8) 10 Content (9) 11 Precipitous (5) 12 Absence (4) 13 Type of needlework (10) 15 & 3dn Form of music or

information storage (7,4)

13 14

17 18

DOWN

1 Lose (8) 2 Recent arrival, generally after

the expected time (9)

22 24

25 26 28

Cryptic Clues

Solutions

ACROSS

DOWN

1 Refrain from my bagging of backpay

1 2 3 5 6 7

for the unemployed (6)

4 Toilet clearance? (8) 10 Redesign site if ads amount to content (9) 11 Utter “Cut!” in audition (5) 12 Want Cilla to remove top (4) 13 Emery board I swap for a recycled

tapestry (10)

15 & 3dn COVID case numbers recorded

here? (7,4)

16 Tribute band’s third release from one ugly

compilation (6)

19 Shopkeeper more vulgar over the phone (6) 21 Spooner prohibited footwear at playground

feature (7)

23 Cool Kylie song? (10) 25 Egg on burger, forget the trimmings (4) 27 Calvin Klein stocks jumper that’s sick (5) 28 Vulgar term in live screening of Die Hard (9) 29 3dn Tree change for individual (8) 30 Perhaps insert iron toecap for protection (6)

Lose a hundred in simple mix-up (8) Customs to clear me as a recent arrival (9) See 15ac (7,4) Warrant, dividend or secured shareholding? (7) Punish 3dn naked zip-liner (10) Having ample flesh on show, disrobe seductively (5) 8 His sacrifice works in my favour ultimately (6) 9 Awful mistake loses a fortune (6) 14 Redheads on rsvp.com (10) 17 Bargained for weaving fabric (9) 18 Stormy petrel with sex chromosomes? Very well (8) 20 Run asylum (7) 21 Security guards pinch fortified wine and Old Spice? (6) 22 Still taking occasional pill with LSD (6) 24 Famous friend supports the essence of Malcolm X (5) 26 Flat topped ridge same, but different (4)

SUDOKU PAGE 43

7 5 8 1 9 2 4 3 6

9 2 1 4 6 3 7 8 5

6 4 3 8 5 7 1 9 2

2 6 7 3 1 8 5 4 9

8 3 5 9 7 4 2 6 1

1 9 4 5 2 6 8 7 3

4 1 9 7 3 5 6 2 8

3 8 2 6 4 1 9 5 7

5 7 6 2 8 9 3 1 4

Puzzle by websudoku.com

WORD BUILDER PAGE 43 5 Sedan Shred Third Tread Shard 6 Thread Hinder Ardent Strand Stride 7 Instead Trained Sainted 8 Strained 9 Tarnished

14 APR 2022

3 See 15ac (7,4) 5 Provide backing (7) 6 Punish (10) 7 Overweight (5) 8 One who makes a sacrifice (6) 9 Destiny (6) 14 Relationship broker (10) 17 Type of material (9) 18 With skill (8) 20 Fall back (7) 21 Athletic (6) 22 Calm (6) 24 Angry (5) 26 Flat topped hill (4)

16 Testimonial (6) 19 Seller of produce (6) 21 Playground feature (7) 23 Movement (10) 25 Encourage (4) 27 Thief (5) 28 Fanatic (9) 29 Separate (8) 30 Protection (6)

Click 27 FEBRUARY 1985

Bob Geldof, Margaret Thatcher

words by Michael Epis photo by Getty

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

unk rockers aren’t often in the same room as the prime minister of the United Kingdom, but Bob Geldof was no ordinary punk. The occasion was The Daily Star Gold Star awards – humanitarian awards handed out by a trashy tabloid. Go figure. Margaret Thatcher did the honours, showering praise on brave police, various athletes, a man who walked to the magnetic North Pole – and Geldof. “And we also find our pop stars under Bob Geldof’s leadership, converting their musical tribute into food and shelter for the hungry,” Thatcher said, referring to Geldof’s song ‘Do They Know It’s Christmas’, which sold 3.8 million copies in the UK alone, and almost 12 million worldwide, with the funds going to famine relief in Ethiopia. “I would like to add my personal thanks to all who contributed to that inspired piece of music-making,” Thatcher continued. “It means so much that those who our young people revere and idolise should give a lead for good. It lifts everyone. It lifts our country.” Never one to miss an opportunity, Geldof bailed up Thatcher in front of the cameras. “Well, we had a bit of a problem with the VAT on the record,” Geldof said

to her, referring to the fact that the UK government collected sales tax on the record, and refused to donate it to the cause. “I know, but you know, don’t forget, we’ve used some of your VAT to give back and to plough back. We’ve given again and again. I mean government has to get taxation from somewhere…” Thatcher replied. Then they argued about butter mountains. Although the Iron Lady was famously “not for turning”, she did eventually relent and waived the VAT – and later invited Geldof to No 10, where they had a whisky together, which in turn led to her getting global poverty on to the agenda at a G7 meeting. All this came before Live Aid in mid-1985, two live concerts on either side of the Atlantic, featuring the biggest names in music, beamed all around the world, raising hundreds of millions of dollars more in donations, saving countless lives. There has not been such a world-uniting event since. Years later Geldof paid Maggie the highest compliment he could: “She lashed out with her handbag at every institution she saw: the monarchy, the old Tory party, the old Labour Party, the trade unions – she was a punk.”

14 APR 2022