The Big Issue Australia #620 – Turia Pitt by The Big Issue Australia

17 OCT 01 NOV 2019

Ed.

620

HE T D N A

IT U S R PU

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18 SEP 2020

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Contents

EDITION

620

Together, Apart Isabel Dunstan was newly pregnant and living with her husband in Jakarta when COVID struck. She describes the roller‑coaster ride she’s been on ever since.

26 BOOKS

Reasons to Be Cheerful

12.

‘I Was Thrown a Massive Curveball’

Prolific author and self‑help guru Matt Haig has a simple message to help fight pandemic blues.

by Anastasia Safioleas

Athlete, humanitarian and author Turia Pitt on leaning into her teenage quirkiness, finding her rock and forging her path to a happy life in her Letter to My Younger Self.

THE REGULARS

04 Ed’s Letter & Your Say 05 Meet Your Vendor 06 Streetsheet 08 Hearsay & 20 Questions 11 My Word 18 The Big Picture

24 Ricky 25 Fiona 34 Film Reviews 35 Small Screen Reviews 36 Music Reviews 37 Book Reviews

39 Public Service Announcement 40 Tastes Like Home 43 Puzzles 45 Crossword 46 Click

CONTENT WARNING Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers are warned this magazine contains references to a deceased person (p24).

BEHIND THE COVER

“There’s not many 16-year-old girls who are into rocks,” says Turia Pitt of her younger self. cover photo by Elizabeth Allnutt contents photo by Andy Baker

30 SMALL SCREENS

So You Want to Make a Podcast? There’s no better time than now for a podcast – so what are the hurdles to making one yourself?

Ed’s Letter

by Amy Hetherington Editor @amyhetherington

E FO RT NI GH T LE TT ER OF TH

These Are a Few…

aindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens…” Okay, apologies for now lodging The Sound of Music earworm into your mind. This week, I tried making my own list of all the good things in life – in verse – as an exercise in gratitude and a reminder right now to take pleasure in the simple, everyday joys. (In an unrelated move, my partner took to wearing noise-cancelling headphones around our apartment.) “Everyone has a different understanding of what happiness is,” says our cover star Turia Pitt, who set out to discover whether happiness is attainable or not for her new book Happy (and Other Ridiculous Aspirations). “I came to the conclusion that happiness is not so much about achieving gigantic goals or doing really incredible things. It’s more about finding happiness in our everyday lives.” Having achieved so many incredible things in her 33 years, Turia tells us that a happy life for her is found in

family and doing the things she loves. It’s a discussion that spilled over into an online chat with Big Issue vendors across the country: what is the meaning of happiness? For Debbie in Adelaide, “happiness is my children’s smiles”. While Marcus in Sydney says, “What makes me happy is family and friends – and going to the racetrack to work as a volunteer marshal for motorsport.” Vernon in Adelaide says he finds joy in “seeing a smile on other people’s faces, especially if I have made them smile”. Eddie in Brisbane finds happiness on his pushbike, for Caroline in Perth it’s in listening to Bon Jovi tunes, while Sarah in Perth finds it in knitting and painting. For Cindy in Adelaide, her bird Sunshine brings her, well, sunshine. John Mac from Sydney summed it up for us all: “I think that a lot of people get confused between happiness from novelty and happiness from contentment. One is wanting a new item, and only lasts while it’s new; the other is being happy with what you already have.”

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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 24 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.

Your Say

I just wanted to say how happy I am to be reading through edition 618! My husband and I had always bought The Big Issue when living in metro Perth but since we moved to Margaret River, I’ve really missed it and having a chat with the vendors who are always such delightful people. Hubby still works a bit in the city, so from time to time will bring one home, but I was delighted to see we can buy the magazine at our local Woolies! Great idea – it’s great to know I can still get this fabulous example of a social enterprise outside the city. With homelessness and social disadvantage becoming an increasing issue in regional areas, is it possible to have more vendors set up? You do a fabulous job; always a great read and I just wanted to say thank you! JANE O’REILLY MARGARET RIVER I WA

Ed – Thanks Jane, we’d welcome more vendors in the South West. Anyone interested in selling The Big Issue, anywhere around Australia, can contact their local office – all the contact details on p2.

• 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 19 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 Classroom educates school groups about homelessness. • And The Big Idea challenges university students to develop a new social enterprise. CHECK OUT ALL THE DETAILS AT

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Jane wins a copy of new book Sam Bloom: Heartache & Birdsong. We share this heart-warming story on p18. 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

Chris V

SELLS THE BIG ISSUE AT THE HILTON IGA, PERTH

interview by Andrew Joske photo by Ross Swanborough

PROUD UNIFORM PARTNER OF THE BIG ISSUE VENDORS.

18 SEP 2020

I am most known for my sense of humour. It is pretty deadly! I love to laugh, and I love to make other people laugh, including all the staff at The Big Issue. They have told me that I bring sunshine into the office when I visit – and I do. If I had to describe myself I would definitely say that I am cheeky and mischievous. My catch phrase is “I better shut up before I get myself into trouble!” I am very close to my family and see my mum and sisters regularly. Every Sunday I go round to Mum’s place for tea and games. I am the king of games, especially Connect 4. I love seeing my sisters also, especially now that I have a niece and nephew. I hold them until they fall asleep in my arms, and I bought both my sisters their first prams for their babies. Growing up was not always easy. I was bullied at school, but I was lucky to have my family. I have never been able to do everything that other people do and when I was young, I had a series of operations to remove tumours on my brain. This affected my vision. I still have regular scans, but it has been a long time since I’ve had any more tumours. I live in a share house with four other people. We all have different disabilities, so we have extra support to assist us with the day to day. I think I make a good housemate because I am polite and kind, and very trustworthy. I found out about The Big Issue from two of the people I live with, Eileen and Josh, so I decided to give it a go. It was the first job I ever had. I was nervous the first time, and it was very hit and miss. Then I started to sell magazines out the front of Hilton IGA every Friday. The staff are very positive and always wish me luck. I have lots of regular customers, and they ask where I am when I’m not there. They can’t get enough of me! I am very grateful for the support of everyone there. When I started at The Big Issue it was for the money. I have bought heaps of stuff for my room, including a new TV and new furniture. I still love to earn the money, but I also love to see my customers. On pitch I am very loud. I tell people knock‑knock jokes and make up songs. I am a really hard worker and I also have a pamphlet run. I have so many hobbies. I love cooking, especially sweet stuff. My favourite is pumpkin pie. I also enjoy playing golf and am about to start going to the gym. I paint a lot and recently have been doing mosaics. I go to the Men’s Shed once a week and build different things out of wood. I grow my own vegetables and my dream is to one day have my own gardening business. For now, I am going to keep selling magazines, and keep entertaining my customers. I am going to continue to go with the flow and be positive. It’s important to not let life get you down.

Stories, poems and pictures by Big Issue vendors and friends

Strength and Support

VENDOR SPOTLIGHT

GEORGE

GE O RG NE IG HB O E’ S BE CO M E GOUR S HA VE O D FR IE ND S

My Sunny Days

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uring lockdown, I like to go to Northland and walk around and do the shopping with Susan, my partner. I like watching TV, making coffee and I love the sunny days – especially the bright, sunny mornings. It comes in through the kitchen window, especially when I’m making coffee – it’s a wonderful feeling when the sun’s shining through my window on days like this. It gives me a good feeling. I like to chat to my neighbour Greg, to talk about the vegetable garden that he’s growing. I like to admire Greg’s vegetable garden. There are two neighbours that I like to talk with – the other, Michael, is very pleasant. He’s very polite and gentle and when I give him food to eat, he says “Thank you very much”. And when I’m at the bus stop coming home from Northland, I like to feed the birds – seagulls, pigeons and turtle-doves. I also talk to Susan’s sister, who’s got terminal cancer. I like to talk to her on the phone to cheer her up. I’ve brought her some herbs to help soothe her. But also, I enjoy drawing. I draw pictures of Jesus in pencil, and I put them on my wall, along with pictures of swans that I’ve done, next to the photos of Susan and I with Santa Claus – we get them done every Christmas. I hope all the The Big Issue staff are doing well. I give them all my love and send my regards. GEORGE FAIRFIELD I MELBOURNE

Hello Everyone. My name is Laima. I have been working in Perth’s Women’s Subscription Enterprise (WSE) for four years. COVID-19 was a big challenge to me because this job is my only source of income and my expression of socialisation. It was a very long five months full of worries and fears. The scariest thing is not knowing what happens next. Day by day I listened to my inner voice and tried not to give up, however difficult it was. Finally, at the end of August, we returned to our work. It was a day full of positive emotions. My work routine is back and I have full communication again – that is very important to me. I hope the second COVID wave will not hit so hard in WA. I wish strength to all women who are working in the WSE, and to those who have still not returned to work. We will win anyway. LAIMA WSE I PERTH

How We Use Love Everywhere you go you hear the word love. Love can be used in so many different ways: “I love this”, “It’s a lovely day”, “love the outfit”, “I love you”. They’re just examples of how love is used around the world. It’s family and close friends that we love the most, but everywhere you go you see advertisements on the street or TV talking about love – you can’t escape the word. There are so many books and movies and plays about love, it’s unbelievable. Valentine’s Day is the one day of the year we celebrate love, but we can do that any time. How many times a day do we use the word love? Myself, I hardly use it, only when I really need to. I tell my

PHOTO OF GEORGE BY JAMES BRAUND

Streetsheet

kids I love them, but that’s about it. They say true love is when you marry someone, but that’s not true: you don’t need a piece of paper to show you love someone; you can do that without getting married. Yes, we should express our love, but not go overboard with it. Remember if you feel love within you, use it, don’t be scared. GLENN F WOOLWORTHS CENTRAL I SYDNEY

Good to Be Back I was sick of staying home all day not doing much. It’s good to be back, being busy and earning money. I am still waiting to see most of my regular customers – hopefully I will see them soon. Sales have been a bit slow, so I have shortened my work

hours a bit. When the weather warms up, I hope to work more. Hopefully SA keeps safe from the virus. RHYS THE BODY SHOP & HAIGH’S I ADELAIDE CBD

Hard Lockdown I was arriving home when I got a call from a friend to say the police were coming to my flat and they were going to lock us all in. I arrived home with a large coffee in hand, and I later went to bed. In the morning, I wasn’t sure what was going on. I knew the police were out there, and I got my information from morning TV. For two days I was inside with no contact and little information, and on Sunday morning had intended to fill my scripts, as I had just run out of medication – Murphy’s Law!

On Monday I asked for my medicine. It came on Tuesday. The government people started to arrive – a lot of food came in the end, one box of essentials followed by another, and grocery bags here and there full of food. I have a full pantry now! Sheets and towels started to come, and the offer of a laundry service. The police had gone after five days. The virus was in my building, but there weren’t many people with the virus – most of the cases were in the building across the car park from me. It was hard to be on my own at times, being unprepared for it all, but at the end of the day we were treated alright. The nurses had come and given me a test – after nine days I got my result back. It was negative. GREG IGA I NORTH MELBOURNE

Up There, Kellee!

KELLEE BOAS AVE | JOONDALUP

18 SEP 2020

Recently I started to play Aussie Rules football. I have always played lots of sport – basketball, netball and soccer – but this is the first time I have played AFL. Growing up, playing Aussie Rules wasn’t even an option for girls. I have watched the women’s league, and even been to the Eagles women’s training sessions last year. My favourite is the captain Dana Hooker. She is super nice and has a great kick on her – I have even got her autograph. I play for Kingsway Football Club, in a mixed integrated team for people of all abilities. I found out about the team from Jason and Keith, who play and are also Big Issue vendors. I love getting out there. The highlight for me this season has been kicking my first goal – it felt so good and made me super happy.

ALL VENDOR CONTRIBUTORS TO STREETSHEET ARE PAID FOR THEIR WORK.

KEL LEE PLAYS FOR KING SWAY FOOTY CLU B

Hearsay

Andrew Weldon Cartoonist

“

It’s the first time I have been here and not been abused, which is quite nice.

Cricketer David Warner on the upside of playing to empty stadiums as the Australian men’s team take on arch rivals England in a Twenty20 International in the UK. HERALD-SUN I AU

“I don’t shy away from my lived cultural experiences. I’m a Black queer woman from the middle of America. I bring that with me everywhere I go. I wear it proudly. I might show up in a meeting with an astronaut suit on – I have several times, actually.” Singer and actor Janelle Monáe (Hidden Figures) on living an authentic life in the biz – astronautically.

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ROLLING STONE I AU

“I’ll manage to put my socks on myself. The first thing that has to warm up are your feet.” Ice-cool Austrian sportsman Josef Koeberl on his immediate plans, after setting a new world record for sitting in a box of ice cubes up to his neck. He lasted two hours, 30 minutes and 57 seconds in only a pair of budgie smugglers.

“We interpret the fish not so much as a gift but as a prestige display. One possible interpretation, and the one we like best considering the political nature of the entire voyage, is that it is part of Hans’ effort to subtly influence the Swedish nobles to join the Nordic union.” Brendan Foley, of Lund University, on finding a two-metre sturgeon in a 500-year-old shipwreck. The warship of Denmark’s King Hans sank in 1495, en route to Sweden, with the aim of uniting the three Scandi countries under his rule. That bid failed – but Hans did get off the sinking boat.

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HARVARD BUSINESS REVIEW I US

“It was a beautiful spring, and that was amazing — I’m normally not in my place long enough to watch the blossoms unfold.” Rolling Stone Mick Jagger is gathering moss at home.

“Gossiping is a plague worse than COVID. The devil is the great gossip. He is always saying bad things about others because he is the liar who tries to split the Church.” Pope Francis has no time for your scuttlebutt and Hearsay…wait a minute? THE NEW YORK TIMES I US

“COVID has acted like a catalyst. We’re seeing a huge increase in people wanting to purge their homes, downsize and start moving into a simpler environment.” Julie Hall, an estate appraiser and liquidator, on the rising decluttering trend, which has popped up a lot more in recent months, because people need to make room before climbing their walls. NPR I US

“We see a lot of people exporting coffee from Uganda because people don’t take coffee [here], but as we baristas who have trained, we are here to inspire people to make the good products for the people, so that they can get and love and call others for the coffee products.” Barista student Shafiq Jemba, on the increase in coffee drinking in Uganda, which has long been a tea‑drinking nation, despite exporting vast amounts of coffee. AFRICA NEWS I DRC

“I did it out of curiosity because I do have respect and I wanted to see if someone like that can write good.” US President Donald Trump, on why he sat for 18 taped interviews with Watergate reporter Bob Woodward. And yes, he writes good. SYDNEY MORNING HERALD I AU

“Megalodon was actually the very animal that inspired me to pursue palaeontology in the first place at just six years old, so I was over the moon to get a chance to study it. But to study the whole

20 Questions by Little Red

01 What very important thing did Tim

Berners-Lee invent in 1989? 02 According to Guinness World

Records, how long was US farmer Hans Langseth’s world‑record‑holding beard: 3.88m, 4.77m or 5.33m? 03 Where is Timbuktu? 04 Which Ray Charles song did

Kanye West sample in his 2005 song, ‘Gold Digger’? 05 Which tennis player was recently

disqualified from the US Open? 06 How old was Princess Diana when

she died? 07 What does a dendrophile love? 08 As of July, what is Australia’s youth

unemployment rate: 7.2 per cent, 16.3 per cent or 24.2 per cent? 09 What is forbidden by a

GQ I UK

SCIENCE DAILY I US

“The sound hits different parts of your body. Maybe it will strike me down in my ankles first. And then I’ll start to feel the vibrations in my back. And then I’ll feel some pulsations in my wrist.” Chase Burton, a deaf filmmaker from Texas, on a vibrating suit that enables deaf people to feel music through their skin, which he’s been trialling for four years.

“The aperture must widen to reflect our diverse global population in both the creation of motion pictures and in the audiences who connect with them.” David Rubin and Dawn Hudson, president and CEO of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, on new inclusion standards for Best Picture nominees to encourage “equitable representation on and off screen”.

CNN I US

NPR I US

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lèse‑majesté law? 10 How many points is the letter J

worth in a game of Scrabble? 11 After France, which country

has the highest number of Michelin‑star restaurants? 12 What is the name of Beyoncé’s

new visual album, which is based on the story of The Lion King? 13 What is the name of the nerve

agent allegedly used on prominent Russian opposition leader Alexey Navalny? 14 Which famous award is named after

a camera tube used in television? 15 In French, which fruit is called

ananas? 16 What is the name of the voice

actor behind the character of Bart in The Simpsons? 17 What do ungulate animals have that

others do not? 18 Where is the land border between

Victoria and Tasmania? 19 What is a furcula more commonly

known as? Hint: This is often thought to be lucky. 20 To which family does the flowering

jasmine plant belong?

ANSWERS ON PAGE 43

18 SEP 2020

“What I would say to Disney is do not bring out a Black character, market them to be much more important in the franchise than they are and then have them pushed to the side. It’s not good. I’ll say it straight up.” Star Wars actor John Boyega, who plays rogue stormtropper Finn, criticising the sidelining of non‑white characters in the film franchise, including Naomi Ackie, Kelly Marie Tran and Oscar Isaac, as well as not being scripted enough nuance.

animal is difficult considering that “At least if nothing all we really have else, I’m consistent are lots of teeth.” in my uselessness.” Jack Cooper, from Overheard by Lorraine while the University waiting for takeaway coffee in of Bristol, whose Heidelberg, Vic. research has found that the Megalodon – a giant shark that died out more than two million years ago – was about 16 metres long. That’s about 11 Danny DeVitos. Or eight Mitchell Starcs. Or three great whites (the fish, not the golfer). EAR2GROUND

My Word

by Giselle Au-Nhien Nguyen

The Ghost Gum

We moved to West Pennant Hills in 1992, when I was three. Before that, we lived in a tiny brick house in Cabramatta, where all the Vietnamese people were. But it was time for a change as the family grew, and so we packed up and moved all of our things to Sydney’s northwest, where this two-storey house waited silently for us to make it a home. When we moved in, the house creaked with age. The backyard was unruly, with roots and vines growing haphazardly out of the ground, and unpaved dirt forming a shaky path down to the grass.

In the months after the storm, my parents rebuilt. A smaller tree nearby had also taken a hit, and my father bandaged its limbs with stockings. My parents befriended a neighbour who happened to be a keen gardener. In the afternoons, he came over and toiled in the garden with my mother, my father or both, filling the empty space with something new. Where the gum tree once stood there is now a self‑contained garden: sweet little succulents grow out of pebbles; long, lush bamboo trees sit at the back, and laughing fat Buddha statues in between. A similar garden sits in the front of the house, alongside a huge terracotta pot where my father’s goldfish swim. There’s a symmetry in the newness – something like a reincarnation. Looking at this new space, it’s easy to forget that the gum tree ever existed at all, that it watched us for years as we changed and stayed the same. But there are whispers, still; ghosts, maybe. So it goes, on and on and on. XXX Giselle Au-Nhien Nguyen is a Vietnamese-Australian writer based in Melbourne.

29 SEP 18 MAY2020 2020

n the summer of 2018, there was a storm that lasted 15 minutes, howling through the neighbourhood like something had been let loose. By the end, the old gum tree was gone. The first I heard of it was a message from my mother in our family’s WhatsApp chat. “OMG our tree at the back,” she texted at 4.28pm, accompanied by a picture of the crushed fence. The next picture came in a second later – the mighty tree, pressed down on top of the Hills hoist. “The whole tree went down in front of Bố,” she messaged. “He was standing inside looking at it, but luckily it went the other way.” That evening, my parents drove through the streets. Uprooted trees littered the sides of the roads like hard rubbish, defeated by a fraction of an hour’s furious gale. In Vancouver, my sister was asleep while the storm raged, and did not see the messages until morning. “Thank Buddha that nothing happened to you,” she wrote. “That tree was leaning badly toward the house for years,” our mother replied. “We were thinking of cutting it down. I was screaming at Bố not to stand there, next to the window, and it went down right at that moment. Truly someone up there was looking after us.” In the following days, the family chat was flooded with more photos of the roads, the backyards, as my uncles and aunts, too, experienced nature’s wreckage around them. “All kinds of strange things,” my father texted. “A baby possum was hiding underneath a falling eucalyptus branch at the front of our house.” They found the possum, my mother said, because a dog was walking by, sniffed the branch, then jumped away when he discovered the little life within. All four of them – my mother, father, the stranger and his dog – stayed and waited to make sure the possum was safe.

The tree loomed large over the backyard, a wise old gum overlooking the swimming pool and the swing set and monkey bars my parents had installed. That first summer, my mother demonstrated how to swing across the monkey bars, but she fell and broke her leg. We delighted in drawing on the cast with textas, inviting the other neighbourhood children to join in as our mother became a living work of art. On hot days we splashed in the pool, playing games like What’s the Time, Mr Wolf? and BP, snaking our chlorine‑slicked fingers across each other’s backs. The tree shed its leaves into the pool each summer, and we made cleaning up after it into a game, diving for fallen leaves like deep-sea divers looking for treasure. We emerged proudly with fistfuls of leaves, and our father gave us the thumbs-up as he swept the ground around the pool. An older family friend whispered once that the tree housed an elderly witch. We shrieked underneath it on the trampoline, contorting our bodies into almost impossible shapes. We imagined all the strange folk living within its branches, like the ones we read about in Enid Blyton books: mischievous pixies, kindly moon‑faced beings, squirrels and bunnies and children like us. It stood still above us, watching us grow. It was there when we got our first dog. It was there when we stopped jumping on the trampoline and playing games in the pool. A timekeeper, a witness.

A backyard tree looms large over Giselle Au-Nhien Nguyen’s childhood.

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I Was Thrown a Massive Curveball

Letterto toMy MyYounger YoungerSelf Self Letter

Turia Pitt’s resilience and determination are well-known: at 24, she was caught in a grassfire while competing in a 100km ultramarathon. She not only survived, she’s become a bestselling author, a two-time Ironwoman, a mother and a humanitarian. Here she talks family, first kisses and finding happiness in the everyday. by Anastasia Safioleas Contributing Editor

he’s a good man, irrespective of whether or not he came from my home town! I grew up in Ulladulla, went to Ulladulla High and I live in Ulladulla now. It makes me feel even more tragic! But part of the research I did for [my new book] Happy… was that having a strong sense of community – really strong connections with the people around us – that’s probably the biggest predictor for happiness. My brother lives around the corner, my mum’s around the corner, my partner’s family lives up the road, so I feel like we’ve got good family support down here. I had three brothers and then there was me, so we had four kids in our family. My dad was never afraid to try new things. He’s someone who decides he’s going to do something and then just does it. I find that really inspiring – having that conviction in yourself, that self-belief and self‑assurance that no matter what happens, you’ll be able to figure out a way to do it or overcome it. My mum is

PHOTO BY JULI BALLA

oung Turia was a bit self-conscious and probably didn’t have a lot of confidence. I was different. I liked maths and science, and I liked being outside and running. I used to read Archie comics out loud, record myself and then listen back to it, then make my family listen to it. I was always a really big reader; I loved reading. And I liked geology – there’s not many 16-year-old girls who are into rocks. I guess I was a bit quirky and I think that’s what I was self-conscious about. I would say to my younger self that the things that make you different, you can home in on those things as they’ll only serve you as you get older. I was boy mad. I was obsessed. I had an older brother, so I always had big crushes on his friends. His best friend was Michael, who’s my partner now. It’s a little bit tragic! We went to the same school, lived in the same town… Look, I’m pretty happy with my partner –

18 SEP 2020

@anast

It sounds really simple, but I literally just took it one day at a time. And if the thought of living a whole day was too overwhelming, I would just say ‘Okay, let’s just get through the next two hours.’

also a really good example of someone who’s got an incredible work ethic. She had a full-time job, but she used to write every night. I remember falling asleep to the sound of her typing away on our old clunky typewriter. Her first book didn’t get a great reception, but then she decided to write another book and that became really successful – it was published all over the world. Watching her as a kid put time into something she loved and make it a priority, no matter how busy her day, was really inspiring. They’re divorced now – I have no idea how they ever got along to get married. My life is definitely not what I anticipated it to be. Sixteen-year‑old Turia was going to do engineering at university and I was going to be a mining engineer and maybe one day the CEO of a global mining firm. I had my whole career path mapped out. But that never happened. I was thrown a massive curveball. No-one expects to get burns to 65 per cent of their body while running in an ultra-marathon. It was crazy. Whenever I thought about the enormity of my recovery, I was really overwhelmed. How do you start to rebuild your life when you’re in the hospital? If I can’t stand up by myself how was I going to be able to walk again? Run again? Go back to work? Have a family with Michael? It sounds really simple but I literally just took it one day at a time. And if the thought of living a whole day was too overwhelming, I would just say “Okay, let’s just get through the next two hours.” During my recovery I would ask myself, What’s one small step I could take today that would help me get better? Maybe that small step was walking an extra lap of the hallway or eating my lunch or working on my hand mobility. You can’t think of the negatives. If you say to people, “Don’t worry about your future,” of course all they’re going to do is worry about their future. But focusing on the one thing I could do that was going to help improve me, narrow my focus a little bit, was really helpful. Of course, there were hard days. There were times when I wanted to give up. Days I would feel really sorry for myself and feel really down on myself.

BOTTOM: CROSSING THE IRONMAN FINISH LINE, HAWAII 2016

HAPPY AND OTHER RIDICULOUS ASPIRATIONS BY TURIA PITT IS OUT NOW.

18 SEP 2020

TOP: WITH HUSBAND MICHAEL ON THE RED CARPET, SYDNEY 2014

goals or doing really incredible things. It’s more about finding happiness in our everyday lives. My happy points throughout the day are when I’m spending time with my partner and my kids. When I’m spending time doing things that I like to do, whether that’s going for a surf or riding, I feel really good in those moments. When I’m spending time with people who make me feel good about being the person who I am. I think all of those things add up to a really happy life. I gave birth [to my first son] and then had a sleep. When I woke up I was in a really foggy state and I could hear this kid screaming and crying and my first thought was Can someone just shut that kid up? Then I realised it was my kid! That was a Holy fuck, what have I done? moment. I have to look after this little human now for the rest of my life. Those first few weeks were all a haze really. It’s kind of stressful when you first have a kid because you have no idea what you’re doing. But with my second baby [born in February] I’ve probably enjoyed him more because I’m taking the time to really savour those small precious moments. If I had to go back to any one particular time it would be when my partner and I were young, and we were at a party and there was all this chemistry between us. The first time we kissed was at that party. It was a really nice night, a really nice memory. It was the night I created this beautiful and deep relationship with this other person, my significant other. It always makes me a bit emotional talking about this but he’s such a strong, humble, self-effacing human. And he really was my rock throughout my recovery. I don’t know I would have been able to do everything I’ve done if I didn’t have him in my corner. And now we’ve created these two beautiful little humans. That night was the catalyst for our amazing life together. That would be the night I would go back to.

MAIN PHOTO BY ANDY BAKER, INSET PHOTOS BY GETTY

But on those days, I tried not to get angry at myself for being sad about my situation. I’d tell myself, Anyone in this situation would be feeling the same. Anyone would struggle trying to rebuild their life again. How you’re feeling is really normal and really valid. If our car breaks down, we take it to the mechanic. If you’re going through something really tough, it’s really important to get professional help. I saw a psychologist every week for about two years and she was amazing. I approached that as just another aspect of my recovery. Just like my physio sessions, my operations, seeing my doctors, a psychologist was something else that was part of my recovery plan. Sometimes you get put in situations that force you to step up. In those situations, we all have those resources within us to cope – it’s just that we never get tested. And I think that’s probably what people are learning from coronavirus. We’re all going through something which is really hard, but people are adapting to it. They’re changing how they work, how they live. I think humans are inherently remarkably resilient. Competing in Ironman competitions is an example of me changing my focus. Instead of ruminating and wallowing in what had happened to me, I was training. When I’d wake up in the morning, I wouldn’t think Shit, I’ve only got three fingers – how am I going to do stuff? I was like Okay, I’ve got to do a 30-minute run. Doing the Ironman was actually a healing experience. I was putting my energy in something that only helped me get better. When I crossed the finish line, I thought it would be the end of my burns journey – the final chapter in my book – but now I realise that what happened will always be a part of me. There’s no closing that chapter. It’s always going to be a part of my story and part of my life. Everyone has a different understanding of what happiness is. I came to the conclusion that happiness is not so much about achieving gigantic

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

Together, Apart With a pandemic and an ocean between them, newly pregnant Isabel Dunstan and her husband find new ways to be together. Isabel Dunstan has lived and worked most recently in Indonesia and the UK. She has returned to live in Australia to have her first baby. @isabeldunstan

told him I’d be back soon. In the back of my mind, I knew I wouldn’t be. I was three months pregnant with our first baby, working hard and committed to life in the city where we met, which has become our other home outside of Melbourne. My husband Ican was born in Jakarta, a city of more than 10 million people. They say swathes of it will be underwater by the year 2050. It’s among the world’s most polluted cities. Yet those who have lived there, really lived there, and sunk their feet into its dirt, they know. It is so full of charge it makes you feel

business. To avoid economic collapse, the city has adjusted to a new normal, gently encouraged by the government. Nightclubs and restaurants are open, and the city roars on with people wearing masks and keeping a distance when they can. It would take military might to short-circuit Jakarta. Meanwhile, in Victoria we’re reporting double-digit cases, figures we are generally able to trust. I’m living in near-isolation, aside from the occasional one‑on‑one walks with friends and family in town. My only visitor is the watchful magpie. I dutifully wear a mask. I complain to Ican about the rules, and how much I miss our old life and the freedom we enjoyed, until he reminds me, “At least your government cares that you are alive.” He’s right. I’m safe, and healthy, and grateful. Soon, he will be here. Since knowing I can’t return to Jakarta for the birth, I’ve asked him to pack up our house, sell most of our belongings, and uproot his life to join me here. He’s put the Vespa on the market to help pay for the costs of moving: the flight, hotel quarantine, living without work. He’s proud to do it, and hasn’t hesitated to make the effort. Together we’ve navigated the confusing and at times infuriating system of travel exemptions and visa applications. If all goes to plan, he’ll be with me by the time I’m 38 weeks pregnant. The time and money we’ve spent is hardly a price to pay when we have our very own baby to welcome in a matter of weeks. When all of this is over, and the blossoms have given us summer fruit before returning to dormant winter trees, and the magpies have had a nest of babies of their own, maybe a vaccine will be available to everyone, everywhere. We hope to travel again then. The first stop will be our Jakarta, where we’ll introduce our own baby to our family from our other home. In the post-COVID world, they’ll be waiting for us with open arms.

18 SEP 2020

Javanese custom to avoid entertaining negative possibilities, to avoid making them come true. So, while I agonised over these dramatic scenarios, Ican shooshed me and said, “Inshallah everything will be fine. Go home to Australia and I will see you soon.” Since I returned, borders have closed in both countries. I couldn’t leave Australia even if I wanted to. He’s still in Jakarta, and I’m in Castlemaine, a former gold mining town in regional Victoria, home to just 7000 people on Dja Dja Wurrung country. Our universes couldn’t be further apart. My house here doesn’t open up to coconut palms; instead, puffs of wattle and blossoming fruit trees heave over my wooden fence from my neighbour’s yard. Instead of motorbikes roaring past, I hear the ascending call and chatter of the same magpie keeping a keen eye on my movements each day. It’s quiet and safe, just what he’d want for me. But he’s not here, and I miss him. Now at 35 weeks pregnant, every hour I feel the soft thuds of kicking feet and outstretched arms in my belly. It’s a reminder that I’m due to give birth soon: in a month, or maybe any moment if the baby decides to arrive early. Again, I need to remind myself not to entertain such scenarios; I have Ican’s voice in my mind when I do. Over video call, I tell him the baby can hear us from inside the womb now. Jakarta is three hours behind – on nights when I struggle to sleep, I’m thankful he’s still awake. He records voice messages like, “Jangan biarkan ibu bangun terlalu malam, ya nak? Ayah akan segera ke sana,” which translates to, “Don’t keep your mum up too late, okay kid? Dad will be there soon.” I play the message over and over through the tinny speaker on my phone, held to my belly, and imagine the baby listening to every word. I like to think the baby responds, settles and sleeps. And then so do I. My fears of riots in Jakarta and mass deaths haven’t yet transpired. But it’s not all great news either. More than 1000 COVID-19 cases are recorded each day in the city. Testing is still far too low for anyone to be really sure of the true figures. Hospitals are nearing capacity and gravediggers have never had more

illustration by Jessica Singh

utterly alive. The electric feel is drawn from the heady combination of roaring sounds, speedy motorbike trips through narrow streets, mega malls, torrential downpours, and moments of precious stillness with a bowl of roadside mie ayam, or chicken noodles. Then there’s the concept of gotong royong – teamwork or community spirit – which endures through every family, workplace, neighbourhood and friendship. It’s a sense of togetherness that doesn’t exist in Australia in the same way, and makes the city feel very much like the home I never knew I was looking for. Because of the pandemic, I was leaving, alone and with a baby on the way, before I was ready to. I said goodbye to Ican in March, six months ago now. We’d been living as a newly married couple in our one‑bedroom house that opens up to a garden of coconut palms and tropical ivy. On weekends I’d hop on the back of his Vespa, a vehicle he’d named Marsinah, after a labour rights activist from East Java. Together, we would hoon around backstreets looking for breakfast. When we could be bothered getting up early, we’d go jogging together up Jalan Sudirman, a huge street made car-free on Sunday mornings. During the week, we’d work long days and at the end of it all we’d play records with the windows open. We’d cook together, experimenting with classic Indonesian dishes using our new appliances, gifts to us on our wedding day: me, with my enthusiasm to learn, and him with his refined palate for just the right balance of chilli, salt and sugar. When we found out we were having a baby, life became a little quieter, and our relationship more tender. Our plans for the future came into focus. The life we were enjoying together was cut short when Scott Morrison urged all Australians abroad to return home to avoid the consequences of a looming global pandemic – whatever those consequences were going to be, we didn’t know at the time. We discussed the possibility of riots in the city, or mass unemployment, or worse, mass death. I was concerned that the hospital where we planned to have the baby would be converted into a coronavirus treatment hospital and there’d be no room for us when I went into labour. It is wise

series by Cameron Bloom

The Big Picture

Life in Full Bloom

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

When Sam Bloom’s family rescued a scruffy magpie named Penguin, they weren’t expecting the bird to save their lives. by Katerina Bryant @katerina_bry

Katerina Bryant is a South Australian-based writer. She has just released her first book, Hysteria: A Memoir of Illness, Strength and Women’s Stories Throughout History.

n 2015, Cameron Bloom posted a video to YouTube. In it, his partner Sam sits phone in hand while Penguin the Magpie cheeps. Penguin reaches into her nearby cup and pulls out the teabag with her beak, plopping it onto the table dramatically. Sam laughs, playfully asking her to stop it. It’s just one tender moment Cameron, Sam’s photographer husband, had captured of the two interacting since their surprise meeting years earlier. On that windy spring day, a magpie chick fell 20 metres out of her nest in a Norfolk Island pine tree and was found by the Blooms’ son, Noah. When he brought the scruffy bird home to recuperate, he did not know that he was introducing a family member who would live with them for the next two years. They named her Penguin for her black-and-white plumage, and pledged to nurse her back to good health. At the same time, Sam was undergoing her own rehabilitation. Two years earlier, on a family holiday in Thailand, the neurosurgical nurse had a near-fatal fall that resulted in paralysis from her chest down. She spent seven months in hospital. Penguin became Sam’s companion and helped her adapt to life as a wheelchair user. “We’d talk to each other and just keep each other company. I’d often complain to her – she was a terrific listener.” Sam hopes sharing her story “will help others find strength and courage during their own dark and challenging times”. Some of Sam’s most cherished moments with her “guardian angel”

were when she would “make a noise at the front door early in the morning, or fly in through an open window and come and rest in bed with us for a cuddle or fall asleep”. Penguin was not just Sam’s companion, but her three young sons’, too. “She’d wander into the boys’ bedroom and wake them up by jumping onto their beds, nibbling at their ears.” Two years later, when Penguin grew to be an adult magpie and was ready to be released into the wild, Sam was getting ready for her own adventure. She would be travelling to Italy to participate in the world titles as a part of the Australian para‑canoe team. By then, Sam had already won two national kayaking titles. For a farewell, Sam and her family watched as Penguin flew off into the distance, two days before her own flight. “We were of course sad when we realised she wasn’t coming back [but] we felt like we’d done a great job on bringing her up to be a wild bird.” Sam and Penguin’s story became a bestselling book, Penguin Bloom, followed by Sam Bloom: Heartache & Birdsong. In the new book, looking at the way her own life has come together, Sam reflects: “I am not the woman I was. I am not the woman I wanted to be. I am so much more than that.” Thanks, in part, to Penguin.

SAM BLOOM: HEARTACHE & BIRDSONG BY CAMERON BLOOM, SAM BLOOM AND BRADLEY TREVOR GREIVE IS OUT NOW.

18 SEP 2020

Penguin helped Sam adapt to life in a wheelchair. “I’d often complain to her,” remembers Sam. “She was a terrific listener.”

Meet Hollywood, one of the Magpies to star in the 2021 film adaptation of Penguin Bloom, produced by and starring Naomi Watts.

Pucker up, Penguin! Oli Bloom plants a kiss before school.

For two years, Penguin was the sixth member of the Bloom family.

18 SEP 2020

Noah and Sam and another friend,Â Frankie, also rescued.

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

The Ground Beneath Our Feet Just off a busy highway, a graveyard full of stories offers unexpected peace.

by Nina Cullen @ninakcullen

Nina Cullen is a Sydney-based writer. Her fiction and non-fiction have appeared both here and overseas.

t Peter’s Anglican Church overlooks the Princes Highway. It’s 200m from the recently opened WestConnex tunnel, one of Sydney’s biggest infrastructure projects. McDonald’s, KFC and a budget hotel sit opposite, across six lanes of traffic. It has a graveyard. There are monthly tours or you can listen to an audio tour and walk around any time. For years I’ve been driving past and I’ve finally decided to act on my curiosity. I can smell the oil of fried chicken and chips and there’s a constant rush of traffic. Motorbikes, cars and trucks thunder onwards as these souls rest in peace.

Regardless of their final moments, they all lie peacefully now. It’s almost unbearable to listen to the inquest transcript of the death of three-year-old Richard Frederick Cecil Way, as it’s read more than 100 years later. His mother, Harriet Albina Way, recalls seeing his hat floating on the backyard pond when she went outside to get some water. He should have been playing with his cousins, so she went to her sister’s house next door to see if he was there. He’d left 15 minutes before. They found his body soon after in the pond. He is described in the death notice as the family’s “beloved and only son”. Even though it’s under the flight path, it’s quiet in the graveyard. Regardless of their final moments, they all lie peacefully now. A tree has been pruned and two whorls remain where branches used to be. From afar, they could be mistaken for an owl’s eyes and I can imagine at dusk it might look like a mopoke keeping tabs on you. A gate has been put in the side fence so that people can cut through the graveyard to get to the bus stop. People picnic here and walk their dogs and kids run around on their way home from school. Apparently, it’s a popular place for meditation. All is peaceful under the trees. I pick a dandelion. One of the epitaphs reads: In the midst of life, we are in death. In this pandemic year, these prescient words link life and loss across history.

18 SEP 2020

I wander around the graveyard listening to the audio tour recorded by the History Group. They read from inquests, newspaper articles and funeral notices relating to selected graves. Politicians, publicans, solicitors, butchers, basket makers, boatmen and jockeys lie in this graveyard. They had heart attacks, brain “paralysis”, cholera, typhoid and scarlet fever. They were kicked by horses, crushed between wagons, drowned in the river and occasionally died from old age. Status and wealth take the front-row real estate. The founder of the NSW Fire Brigade, the Postmaster General and 94-year-old John Moore who fought with Nelson at Trafalgar all have big double frontage tombs there with raised memorials. The epigraphs note their wives as “relict”, a possessive connection to the dead husband that jars when I hear it. Two territorial magpies swoop me as I walk the middle section of the graveyard, so I hurry through to the back area where it’s grassy and open and you can’t hear the highway at all. Things are less grand back here where there are stumpy little headstones and a big empty space. This makes me think about the stories we don’t hear. In the early colony there were plenty of people who lived outside the acceptance of a religious churchyard burial. The local Indigenous people, the poor and homeless, their passing can’t be traced through headstones, funeral notices or parish registers. The magpies leave me in peace to pick my way through the children’s section. Most in the rows are without headstones. Some families bury multiple children within days of each other. Other families bury parents and then children weeks or months later. The parish register shows that life goes on. They frequently list the death of one spouse, often a wife and baby in childbirth, and then the remarriage of the other spouse and the baptism of their next child. These people all living and dying on streets I still drive down today.

Out of 2515 burials, two-thirds were children under 10. It’s sobering to check their ages against those of my own children and listen to the details of their deaths. John Dudley was kicked by a horse. He vomited after the accident and told his parents that he felt much better. Then he woke up in the middle of the night and said his shoulder hurt. His parents recall giving him water. In the morning he was dead. Florence Uebel was the grocer’s daughter. There is trouble reconciling exactly who she was as the newspapers and the inquest mix up her surname. She was playing with friends on the banks of the Cooks River. One of her friends got into trouble in the water. When Florence tried to help, she was pulled in as well. Patrick McGarry was walking past and heard the girls scream. He went to help out but Florence had already gone under. The newspaper story notes that a doctor tried to resuscitate her but couldn’t.

illustration by Lena Lam

The gravestones are angled like a set of bad teeth. They should be signalling Gothic horror, except the sun is shining, the grass is green and aside from a few oaks with gnarled limbs, it’s mostly benevolent gums. There are grand show-stopper graves and humble headstones. Some of them are cracked and scattered. Many are so worn that there’s no knowing who is buried there. Others have lost their moorings. A sandstone urn leans alone into the base of a gum. The bottom half of a statue stands on an obelisk. There are fabric folds that suggest something Roman. Even without a body, it stands high and scrapes the lower branch of an oak tree. A few of the family vaults have rusted wrought-iron fences around them. A sign attached to one reads: Danger Graveyard subsistence Enter at own risk

Ricky

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

Like the time Phil found a baby brown snake, brought it into the bar and let it loose in Steve McFadden’s beard.

by Ricky French @frenchricky

The Publican Has Spoken

hil Marks gestured from his stool at the man behind the bar and laid it out straight: “Gerry here is the best Aboriginal publican in Queensland.” He corrected himself, “No, scrap that. He’s the best publican in Queensland, hands down.” Gerry Fogarty chuckled and shook his head. It was December 2018. There were five pubs on Oak Street in Barcaldine. It hadn’t rained for about a billion years. If Queensland were a dart board, Barcaldine was the bullseye, and Gerry was an ace archer at darts. It’s the traditional land of the Iningai people, but Gerry was a proud Bidjara man. His family arrived in town in the 1920s. His grandfather was a drover. Phil said, “It’s everyone’s dream to end your career owning a pub. But Gerry didn’t dream, he did it.” If the Commercial Hotel’s dark green walls could talk, they’d tell good stories. Like the time Phil found a baby brown snake, brought it into the bar and let it loose in Steve McFadden’s beard. Steve and his beard were seated next to us at the bar. I wasn’t sure they’d moved since the snake incident. “It was just to wake him up a bit!” laughed Phil, reaching over and giving Steve’s beard a startling yank, by way of encore performance. “Yeah, righto,” said Steve, slapping at Phil’s dirty hands. “Very funny, mate.” Gerry chuckled and shook his head. He never did say much, but everyone spoke of the compassion of the quiet publican. Then young Chris Drury rolled in and pulled up a stool, like he was next guest on the outback pub talk-show circuit. He’d recently been on the receiving end of Gerry’s compassion. “I’ve been going through a rough patch. Just broke up with me girlfriend, then came and met Gerry. He put me up at the pub, gave me somewhere to stay so I can get back on my feet.” It was a similar story for Steve, who washed up one night years ago in the pouring rain, possibly the last time it rained.

“Gerry asked me where I was camping and I said I might go to the bus shelter, but he wasn’t having that so offered me a room. I ended up setting up my swag in the beer garden.” But Gerry wasn’t to be mistaken for a soft touch. Look out if you stir him up, and don’t think about taking advantage of his good nature. “I bet he can still throw ’em straight,” said Phil, referencing Gerry’s legendary boxing prowess. Gerry played A-grade rugby league for the Barcaldine Sand Goannas and was tipped to become a professional boxer, except his mum wasn’t too keen on the idea. Last week I decided I’d quite like to yarn again with Gerry, so I rang the Commercial Hotel. The line was disconnected. I checked the pub’s social media but nothing had been updated for over a year. I thought I better go straight to the top, so I rang the CEO of Barcaldine Regional Council Steven Boxall, “Mate, bad news,” he said. “Gerry had a heart attack last year. He passed away.” The town will miss you, Gerry. And I’ll never forget my Friday night at the Commercial Hotel – disco lights spinning, drinks flowing, the courtyard packed with people playing pool in the stuffy, outback air. It was a drink-tilldawn crowd, loose as a goose. I hung round till closing partly because I was enjoying Chris’ tragic company but mostly to see how Gerry was going to get the rabble to leave. He had no trouble. His gentle demeanour commanded respect and compliance. After last drinks were called he used a broomstick to reach high up the wall to flick off the disco lights, then did a slow lap of the courtyard, making eye contact with each group. Everyone knew what it meant. The crowd filed quickly and obediently out into the drought. Without saying a word, the publican had spoken.

Ricky is a writer, musician and outback adventurer.

by Fiona Scott-Norman @fscottnorman

Pando-monium

PHOTOS BY JAMES BRAUND

1.5 STAY ALIVE Mash-up of the 1.5m socialdistancing safety zone with a reducing-theroad-toll slogan. And just a hint of Bee Gees. ARDENFREUDE The combination of self-loathing and pleasure you get when New Zealand registers some new corona cases. BLURSDAY See also Febtembuary. Coined by comic Celia Pacquola, Blursday is every day in lockdown, because time has lost all meaning and the only fixed point on our calendar is bin night. CHOTTIE Victorian in provenance. A contraction of “Chief Health Officer” and “hottie”, because the women of that fine state are in a collective

swoon over the calm demeanour and silverfox handsomeness of CHO Brett Sutton. He can take my temperature any time... Come on, we’re in lockdown. COVFIFI My drag name. DOOM SCROLLING You know how you can’t stop reading bad news story after bad news story after bad news story? That. Get off Twitter. FATTENING THE CURVE What’s happening because we can’t stop eating COVID carbs. INFLUENZER Someone making money off COVID scams on Instagram. MASKHOLE People who refuse to wear a mask because rights. See also: Dicknose: the practice of wearing a mask slung underneath your nose, thus rendering them ineffective. Drawn from the startling mental image of a man wearing his underwear slung beneath the peen. SNACKCIDENT When you eat something you didn’t intend to eat because lockdown. “Where did that empty wrapper for a 1kg bag of Twisties come from? Oh noes.” SPENDNESIA A complete lack of recall of what you’ve bought online. Includes random items turning up on your doorstep, like say a hat made of cheese or a rescue dog, or online events which pop up confusingly in your reminders. “I’m doing Zumba in 15 minutes? What?” THE UNPRECEDENTOCENE The unprecedented overuse of the word unprecedented. WALKTAIL The practice of mixing a Quarantini (lockdown martini) before leaving the house for your prescribed exercise, at a prescribed time, going for a walk, and greeting your friends who are similarly strolling the block sipping an alcoholic beverage. ZUMPING. The worst. Dumping or firing someone via Zoom. *Technically not what they call it. But it’s what they mean.

Fiona is a writer, comedian and cardcarrying word nerd.

18 SEP 2020

ait,” you’re probably thinking, “it’s only September. Way too early to be fretting about the Macquarie Dictionary’s Word of the Year competition.” But, you, my friend, would be wrong. It’s Christmas for word nerds, we need something to look forward to, and it is never too early to start compiling your wish list of submissions for our premier dictionary’s publicly voted annual Bestest Word* poll. Last year “robodebt” won, in 2018 it was “Me Too” (technically two words, but they’re mavericks at Macquarie), in 2017 “milkshake duck”. You get the gist – they’re after words or phrases which nail the zeitgeist to the wall like a throbbing piece of gristle. 2020, in a shock to no-one, is spitting out new words and phrases like Roger Federer’s practice buddy tennis-ball launcher. Pew. Pew. Pew. Australians are renowned for their love of slang, and according to Celeste Lawson, head of communications at Central Queensland University, shared words like “iso” and “the rona” create a sense of community and a comforting illusion of control. If we’re clinging to “plandemic” for our identity we may be in trouble, but say what you like about the pando, it’s unleashed a torrent of wordplay. If one of these isn’t word of the year, I’ll eat my…carbs. I’ll eat carbs, because I can’t stop. Help me.

Say what you like about the pando, it’s unleashed a torrent of wordplay.

Fiona

Reasons to Be Cheerful

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

Books

Matt Haig

We may be beset by social media insecurities and a pandemic, but author Matt Haig says that things will get better. by Saskia Murphy The Big Issue in the North

e’re in a comparison culture now,” says author Matt Haig. “Even this year in lockdown I think there was almost a competition about who was having the best lockdown and making the most use of their time.” Time, regret, comparison, anxiety, disappointment and existential FOMO are themes Haig has visited and revisited in his work. In Reasons to Stay Alive (2015), he candidly told the story of a suicide attempt in his mid‑twenties, and how he learned to live again, while Notes on a Nervous Planet (2018) explored the impact modern life has on mental health, and questioned how we stay sane in a world of career demands, consumerism, social media, air pollution, non-stop news updates and the realities of living in a fast-paced ever-changing world. Haig’s 18 works of fiction, including his new novel The Midnight Library, traverse similar terrain. Protagonist Nora Seed is riddled with regret over choices she’s made in the past, always wondering what might have been if she’d lived her life differently. In the meantime, she’s not really living at all. Fed up with life, she decides to end it all – but instead enters a world of limitless possibilities in the Midnight Library, where she has a chance to live all the lives she could have lived if she’d made different choices. Launched into parallel universes, Nora finds out what would have happened if she’d never given up competitive swimming, where she’d be now if she’d married her ex-fiancé, and whether she’d be happier if she’d packed up and moved to Australia. “Since I first started writing books I’d wanted to do a story about parallel lives but I had no hook for it. I had nothing new to offer, so I put it aside and got on with other stuff,” Haig says. “Then I had this idea of it being like a library – imagining there was a library where every single book was a different version of how it would be. I thought that was nice. It fits in with what libraries are anyway, as in a place of many, many different worlds that you can enter.

“I can remember when I had depression and I often felt full of regret,” he says. “It was nice to explore that idea and in a way find a kind of therapy in the idea of accepting your own decisions and accepting where you are in life, [rather than] always imagining or torturing yourself over things you could have done differently.” Although Haig has found huge success as an author – his How to Stop Time (2017) is being filmed with Benedict Cumberbatch in the lead role – it hasn’t always been easy. In 2010 he was dropped by his publisher and told to give up. Battling debt and drinking heavily, Haig relapsed into depression. In both his fiction and non-fiction work, it is these experiences Haig draws from when writing. He often shares his life story underpinned by a simple message: things do get better. Even those who have not read his books have likely come across his Instagram page or Twitter feed, where Haig posts thoughts, inspirational quotes and advice on self care. Yet he recognises that social media can create divisions and exploit insecurities. “We compare ourselves to other people but we also compare ourselves to ourselves, so we present this version of ourselves online which might not be quite the real truth, and then there’s the gap between what we feel like we should be doing versus what we’re actually feeling on the inside. That’s a contemporary issue that impacts mental health and mental illness in quite a big way. “And we compare ourselves all the time not just to a small circle of people within our community but to literally the most famous or exceptional people in their fields in the world, so we are continually seeing people who are achieving things or doing things, and it has set a bar that’s unrealistically high. We all need a bit more self-acceptance and less comparison.” Since Reasons to Stay Alive was published, Haig has been catapulted into the role of a leading mental health campaigner. His quotes are often listed as inspirational words to turn to in times of difficulty, and readers have credited him with saving them from their own struggles. The pressure that role has created has weighed heavily on him. “I struggled I think because I felt a bit of a fraud. I’d written this book called Reasons to Stay Alive and there I was, in the midst of anxiety and depression and not having all the answers. “I think people who read my stuff now understand that I’m not a doctor, that I’m not a neuroscientist and I haven’t got a PhD in brain chemistry or anything. I’m just someone who went through an experience and recovered, to a great degree, although I resist saying I’m 100 per cent better. People feel less alone from reading those books and I think that’s great, but I’m not a magic wand or someone who can fix everyone. But I’m glad it gives people that feeling of being understood.” THE MIDNIGHT LIBRARY IS OUT NOW.

18 SEP 2020

COURTESY OF THE BIG ISSUE IN THE NORTH, UK. PHOTO BY KAN LAILEY

I struggled I think because I felt a bit of a fraud. I’d written this book called Reasons to Stay Alive and there I was, in the midst of anxiety and depression and not having all the answers.

Róisín Murphy

Music 28

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PH Y NE VE RS RÓ IS ĺN M UR E VI SU AL FO RG ET S TH

by Anthony Carew

Anthony Carew is a Melbourne-based critic. He hosts The International Pop Underground on 3RRR.

n early March, Róisín Murphy released a single called ‘Murphy’s Law’. The play on her surname and the familiar adage that “anything that can go wrong will go wrong” proved prescient – for a world descended into the chaos of the global pandemic and for the album itself. “‘Murphy’s Law’ is a classic example of it,” reflects Murphy herself. “You finish a record with so many dancefloor tracks, and all these remix packages ready to go, but [it’s being released] without the clubs to play it in. It’s really sad, to be honest.” Murphy is speaking to The Big Issue from Ibiza. That doesn’t seem strange – the queen of neo-disco spending time at Europe’s home of clubbing – until you remember: 2020. “It’s quite a weird time here in Ibiza,” she says. “It’s beautiful, but it’s very quiet. It’s almost like a simulation, because always in the back of your mind, you know that this is not how it normally is. And sometimes you forget reality, when you’re at the beach or whatever, but then suddenly you’ll end up where there’s loads of people, and they’re all in masks. There’s a real melancholy here.” Murphy isn’t playing, or even going to, any clubs while she’s there. Instead, the Irish singer/producer/ director/style icon is holidaying with her family (she has two children), working on new songs and filming live-performance videos to accompany the release of her fifth solo LP, the rhymingly titled Róisín Machine. These videos play like counter-programming to the endless live-streamed sets of people playing acoustic guitars in front of bookshelves that have become de rigueur during iso. Murphy’s ‘Live @ Home’ lockdown videos have been wild delights that preserve the hallmarks of her stage shows – costume changes, a sense of high theatre and mischief – in a domestic presentation.

RÓISÍN MACHINE IS OUT 24 SEPTEMBER.

18 SEP 2020

Dance clubs around the world may well be shuttered, but neo-disco diva Róisín Murphy won’t let a little thing like that stand in her way.

The Law of Murphy

“It’s important to me to perform,” Murphy explains. “I am a performer after all: that’s what I’ve been doing my whole life. I found a way to perform whilst in lockdown. It’s a whole other thing – it’s not connecting with an audience, it’s connecting with a camera. It’s a cinematic close-up, a kind of intimacy. You get a sense of expression that you normally wouldn’t get on stage. But I wanted them to remain performances. I’m very visual, so I like to take the opportunity to be visual.” Since 2015 – and the release of her sister albums, 2015’s Hairless Toys and 2016’s Take Her Up to Monto – Murphy has directed all her own music videos, as well as styled and choreographed her live shows. Coupled with the onus on contemporary musicians to be continually producing content and sharing themselves online, she’s carrying the burden of a DIY act while operating at scale. “I think I’m happiest like this,” Murphy beams. “I know it’s hard, and I know it puts a lot on me, but now I don’t have to explain myself all the time. I don’t have to be trying to communicate ideas to other people,” she says. “I just get to say, ‘Give it to me, let me do it!’” This is, she thinks, a continuation of a career where she’s refused to be put in a box. Murphy was 20 when she first arrived in the music business, as the vocalist for the oddball dance outfit Moloko. Across four successful albums – 2000’s Things to Make and Do went top 5 and was certified platinum in the UK – she and partner Mark Brydon often found themselves fighting to preserve their eccentric, experimental nature. When Murphy went solo in the wake of Moloko’s 2004 breakup, she encountered many a music-biz exec who wanted to sculpt her as a pop starlet, something she always adamantly refused. “All sorts of things have been expected of me that I’m never going to be,” Murphy says. “I am such a bosswoman, and I’m a frontwoman as well – I’m a pop‑star-ish type thing. There’s a dissonance that’s hard for people to get their heads around... Rightly or wrongly, every decision I’ve ever made, every thing I’ve ever done in my career, has come from my gut. There’s never been an overarching plan; there’s never been a genius svengali behind me. I’ve had to fight my way through various record companies. The support that would normally be there for a sort of girlie pop star has never been there, and I’ve never wanted it.” A quarter century in, Murphy is unafraid to think of her career as a whole, as her life’s work. “When I look back on it, I feel very proud,” she offers. “When I die – oh, now, I sound very Irish, talking about death – this is what will be left behind. You start thinking about this when you have kids. Because, at the end of the day, I’ll be leaving my songs in my will to my children. The publishing will belong to them... It’ll be theirs to protect. Hopefully they won’t just look at it and be ‘Oh, that’s just Mummy’. Hopefully they’ll think it’s good.”

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Small Screens DIY Podcasts

So You Want to Make a Podcast?

Nathania is a Melbourne-based writer and editor.

illustrations by Bea Vaquero

istening to a podcast feels a bit like being told a secret that’s just for you. An especially good podcast can feel like chatting with a friend for an hour – except you don’t have to say anything exciting back (Highly Enthused). It can also be a ticket to a different world: perhaps road-tripping around America in search of someone’s supposedly dead wife (Alice Isn’t Dead). In the age of social distancing and multiple waves of lockdown, putting on a pair of headphones and choosing who to listen to is a small act of freedom. It’s been 15 years since the first podcast – a mash-up of the words “iPod” and “broadcast” – hit the iTunes store, taking the medium mainstream and democratising the way stories are broadcast. Now, as technology closes the gap between who consumes and who produces stories, I grew curious about crossing over to the other side: how easy is it to actually make a podcast of your own these days? After all, you only need a microphone, a recording app on your computer, and something you’re keen to talk about, right? Still, getting started is sometimes the toughest bit. So before you start thinking about how you’ll do it, you might want to ask yourself why? Joel Werner is the Audio Lead at ABC Science and host of Sum of All Parts, a podcast that explores the ways numbers influence the way we think, feel and behave. A trained journalist and researcher, he recommends fledgling podcasters resist the trap of simply making something for themselves, rather than for a broader audience, even if it is a personal project. “It runs the risk of seeming self‑indulgent,” he says. “Ask yourself, ‘Who is it for? Why do they care about this?’” Australians listen to podcasts for all sorts of reasons: to be entertained, informed, learn new things, be kept company and to hear how other people live and think, reports the 2019 ABC Podcast Survey. With these motivators in mind, you’ll find it much easier to sell your clear creative vision not only to listeners, but also to collaborators, interviewees and your new podcasting peers. Jessica Hamilton wrote the fiction podcast Slaughterhouse Road: an alt-country musical tale of young love set in

So, can anyone make a podcast? With a bit of ambition and clearly articulated ideas, perhaps. Technology drives podcasting, but so do people. “It’s easier to make something happen if you have the right people around you,” she says. Often, aspiring storytellers feel held back when they lack the latest equipment. But, as Werner notes, “This year, all us public broadcasters have been working from home. The pandemic has levelled the playing field a bit, resource-wise.” He points to his own kit: an 11-year-old Zoom recorder and two seven-year-old microphones. “When it comes to audio production, there aren’t really any secrets,” he says. “It’s a craft. If you want to get good, you need to practise.” His best advice? “Spend time with your gear, make mistakes and experiment. “I don’t think there’s a way things should be done,” he adds. He finds inspiration in reality TV shows like Survivor, for “the way they build a narrative, using editing to create a sense of tease or tension to keep the audience hooked”.

18 SEP 2020

by Nathania Gilson

an abattoir. She says finding community early on – even if it’s online – can help you make the transition from listener to maker. “I got into the audio world through volunteering at [community radio stations] FBi and 2SER in Sydney,” she says. “I learned how to produce live radio, edit podcasts and work with a team. I’m still producing stuff today with people I met in my very early days as a baby ‘frontliner’.” Hamilton also recommends joining online communities – including Facebook groups like Podcastaway and Australian Fiction Podcast Makers – to source recommendations, and gain support or feedback for your ideas. Johanna Bell has produced such podcasts as Birds Eye View, made with women in the Darwin Correctional Centre, and The Collection, made with the Museum and Art Gallery of the Northern Territory. For her, a sense of community also means accountability. “If you’re working alone, try to build a team, even if it’s only one other person you occasionally check in with.

For 15 years, we’ve been plugging into other people’s worlds and stories via the powerful medium of podcasts. So maybe it’s time to launch your own.

18 SEP 2020

And as you continue down this their stories down. Give them an Resources to Help new creative path, it’s only a matter audience, though, and you’ll be on the Kickstart Your Own of time before you find unexpected edge of your seat.” Podcasting Project stories coming through from your While making Birds Eye View, own life experience. Bell noticed that a fully scripted Hamilton’s day job is at approach wouldn’t work because – The Australian Audiocraft, a podcast agency in even if the cast wrote their own lines Audio Guide Sydney, producing branded content they hesitated to read off the page. (australianaudioguide.com) for businesses and publishers. But her “We could either invest in capacity independent romance-horror podcast building so that women developed A hand-picked guide to Slaughterhouse Road was inspired the skills to make scripted content Australian audio culture edited by by a real-life abattoir she passed on a sound natural, or we could change our Jon Tjhia, Beth Atkinson‑Quinton road trip. “I started writing country process to minimise scripted content and Mia-Francesca McAuslan. songs about two awkward young and play to their strengths through Great for discovering new lovers in a small Aussie town as a improvised recording. quality pods and tips from joke,” she says. But it was a joke she “We ended up doing a bit of audible creators. started taking pretty seriously when both,” she explains. “So, match she saw the potential of the story. “I your storytelling format with really wanted to hear the characters your storyteller’s preferred way of Audiocraft Festival in my head singing along with the telling stories.” Podcast sounds of lawnmowers on a Sunday Acknowledging and navigating (wherever you get podcasts) morning, cackling kookaburras, the unspoken power dynamics in Listen back to four years of sizzle of snags on a barbie, Mr Whippy podcasting is often the trickiest talking shop, skill-sharing and vans, a chorus of mooing cows and ethical territory. Having worked with shining a light on industry open mic night at the local pub.” vulnerable and underrepresented trends – as well as broadcasting For those interested in developing communities, Bell has some advice for the Australian and international creative skills, Hamilton recommends anyone figuring out whose stories to makers you need to meet. working on branded content. “All your tell, apart from their own. projects will be in dialogue as soon as “I’m an advocate for #ownvoice you focus on writing only for the ears,” work. I think our industry still Radio Diaries she says. has a long way to go to make (radiodiaries.org) Her first branded podcast, Modern storytelling accessible to, and Babies, came with the challenge of reflective of, a diversity of lived The award-winning US team creating a sonic safe space – one that experiences,” she says. built an archive of extraordinary guided listeners through different “The space I practise in is more like stories of ordinary lives, collecting lived experiences of fertility and ‘elevated voice’ rather than ‘own voice’. first‑person diaries and sound childbearing in Australia. “It taught It usually involves working with people portraits that have helped pioneer me to think really carefully around who wouldn’t be able to share their a new type of citizen journalism. the ‘character’ that podcast hosts play stories unless it’s collaborative.” in translating complex information, For Bell, building community sounds or stories for listeners.” matters as much as credibility and “There are very few podcasts accessibility to making your mark. without at least one host,” says Bell. “The women in Darwin “Birds Eye View would not have made it into the Correctional Centre [the subjects of Birds Eye View] were world without assistance: editors, publishers, musicians, trying to get at the question, ‘Who are we, really?’ It didn’t designers,” she says. “But it can be uncomfortable work, too, make sense to spotlight only one or two voices. We ended because at the heart of collaboration are questions about up approaching it more like a chorus, where 18 women were sharing power. It helps to be very clear and upfront about involved in hosting.” authorship, remuneration and visibility from the outset.” Bell is also a children’s book author, creative director at So, can anyone make a podcast? With a bit of ambition Darwin’s StoryProjects and founder of the live storytelling and a clearly articulated idea, perhaps. Technology drives event SPUN: True Stories Told in the Territory. She loves that podcasting, but so do people. It’s ultimately up to those of us podcasting allows her to help others develop their confidence with something new to say, who have the confidence to look and knack for oral storytelling. “Audio is a wonderful tool beyond narrative tradition, to help the industry evolve and because it cuts through challenges like low literacy,” she welcome in new voices. Oh, and avoid going it alone. Hamilton says. She’s not afraid to throw out the rules of traditional agrees, wholeheartedly: “Community is everything!” storytelling when it makes for a better story. “Writing is my creative practice, but I realised a long time INTERNATIONAL PODCAST DAY IS 30 SEPTEMBER. ago that many skilful storytellers don’t feel confident writing

Film Reviews

Annabel Brady-Brown Film Editor @annnabelbb

n something of a miracle, the Brisbane International Film Festival is happening this October as an IRL festival with bums on seats and all the attendant joys. Opening with the anticipated 1930s-set Australian drama High Ground (due in theatres in 2021), BIFF’s eclectic program of more than 70 films includes the latest releases from cult directors such as Japan’s Sion Sono and Portugal’s Pedro Costa; a retrospective that salutes Australian editor Jill Bilcock, whose contributions heighten the 90s magic of Romeo + Juliet through to stylish local hit The Dressmaker (2015); and Filibus (1915), a restored Italian silent crime caper about a devilish female sky pirate and the detective on her case. For those with an appetite for more recent Italian cinema, the Italian Film Festival takes place nationally next month (Melbourne when it can). The titles include a fresh take on the classic Pinocchio fairytale starring the delightful Roberto Benigni; Marco Bellocchio’s stomping Cosa Nostra drama The Traitor, about a real-life Sicilian mob boss turned informer; and Martin Eden, an incendiary adaptation of Jack London’s semi‑autobiographical novel from Pietro Marcello, and one of my favourite films from last year. If that wasn’t enough, 2020 is the 100th birthday year of Federico Fellini. For newcomers (or old friends), the director’s 1960 Roman opus La Dolce Vita is available on Amazon Prime, and his 1963 masterwork 8½, via Stan. ABB

MARTIN EDEN AT THE IRL ITALIAN FILM FESTIVAL

THE HIGH NOTE 

Nisha Ganatra’s comedy about a beloved late-career pop star, Grace (Tracee Ellis Ross), and her assistant-cumaspiring producer Maggie (Dakota Johnson) in some ways echoes A Star Is Born (2018). Both feature an older star with a hefty music career behind them, alongside an up-and-comer possessing what characters describe vaguely as “talent”, and both films invest a significant amount of screen time propping up the cliché that in pop, electronic music is inherently shallow, while an older musical tradition (in this instance old-school soul) is necessarily more valuable. It’s unfortunate that Grace’s songs are almost entirely forgettable, and that Ellis Ross and Johnson – two endearing and charismatic actors – are underserved by a stilted, choppy script. At one point, Grace tells Maggie that a recording she’s working on is “over-mixed” – an imprecise term that most likely means the song has been overworked, that its strong features haven’t been given adequate space to breathe. The same can be said for the film itself. GREER CLEMENS AN AMERICAN PICKLE

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

A caveman is accidentally frozen in the Stone Age and defrosts in California in Encino Man (1992). A soldier volunteers for a hibernation project and wakes 500 years later to a dumbed-down society in Idiocracy (2006). Herschel Greenbaum (Seth Rogen) falls into a vat of pickles in 1919 and awakes next century in An American Pickle – if only he had the luck to sleep through 2020. The “man out of time” story is persistent, but screenwriter Simon Rich (Saturday Night Live, Miracle Workers) leads with the silliest preservation tale yet, based on his novella Sell Out. The pickle incident is so ridiculous that it’s easy to go along with the premise. But once Herschel is out of the jar and reunited with his distant, distant relative Ben (also Rogen) the absurdity tapers off in favour of a cross-generational culture clash. The Greenbaums’ relationship is salty and sweet – and Rogen excels in the dual role – but ultimately it lacks comedic crunch. There’s not enough brine time for this pickle. CAMERON WILLIAMS

TROLLS WORLD TOUR 

Thoughtfully championing the acceptance of others, no matter how different they may be, Trolls World Tour broadens the scope of the toy franchise as the musical trolls make a new discovery: they’re not alone. Each genre is represented by its own fervent troll tribe – rock, country, funk, techno, classical and, of course, pop. Poppy (Anna Kendrick) and Branch (Justin Timberlake) are back leading the high-energy sequel, but they must face the threat of Queen Barb (Rachel Bloom), who is set on forging one nation under rock‘n’roll. This expansion allows the film to constantly morph in tone and style – from a spaghetti western-styled getaway to an Afrofuturism-tinged space battle – and saves it from brazenly numbing kids’ minds with a jukebox of catchy tunes. Countless celebrities are scattered throughout the kingdom, and there’s joy to be found in recognising their familiar voices on silly cartoon faces. Who would ever have imagined the K-Pop group Red Velvet and the Prince of Darkness, Ozzy Osbourne, sharing scenes? BRUCE KOUSSABA

Small Screen Reviews

Aimee Knight Small Screens Editor @siraimeeknight

BEST FRIEND FOREVER  | PC, MAC + NINTENDO SWITCH

THE LEGEND OF THE FIVE

 | NETFLIX

 | VOD FROM 23 SEPTEMBER

Author Ken Kesey (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest) once bumped into the former colleague who inspired his tyrannical Nurse Ratched. “She was much smaller than I remembered, and a whole lot more human,” he told The New York Times. If the real antagonist and her villainy is minuscule to its creator in hindsight, she’s a lot bigger, more complex and diabolical in Netflix’s prequel series. Everything is huge: the performances, the trauma, the blood splatter! It’s elaborate fan fiction with lush neo-noir visuals and wicked delights: a long therapy session away from the anti-authoritarian book and Oscar-winning film adaptation. There’s only one hitch. Like Kesey’s reunion with his colleague, Mildred Ratched (Sarah Paulson) here loses a little oomph once screenwriter Evan Romansky and executive producer Ryan Murphy (American Horror Story) elaborate on her past. For all the effort put into explaining how a monster is made – such is the trend with these preludes to villainy (think: Joker) – unknown malevolence still terrifies the most.

Teenage angst, special powers and an ancient magical world are not as legendary as expected in actor Joanne Samuel’s (Mad Max) feature directorial debut. The film follows five misfits who, after touching an artefact on a school excursion, are transported to a magical realm where they must use their new powers to stop a sorceress from world destruction. It’s a narrative built on a hoard of familiar fantasy tropes, from fairies to ancient plagues – even the Mad Hatter’s tea party gets a nod. The Legend of the Five pays enthusiastic homage to its genre, but the frantic vignettes are strung together by a handful of teen-film stereotypes, fumbling through a discombobulated script. Despite execution issues, however, Samuel’s strength is using iconic Australian landscapes – like the Blue Mountains and the Great Ocean Road – for the fantastical, with a determined pride in country akin to Peter Jackson’s New Zealand in The Lord of the Rings series. The Legend of the Five is a mess, but a magical one, not without a virtue or two.

CAMERON WILLIAMS

MERRYANA SALEM

ith the annual chatter about the Emmy Awards – TV’s night of nights, this year telecast live from the honourees’ homes – I want to spotlight a show that’s been conspicuously absent from the nominee dockets, year after year. Since 2017, The Good Fight has lampooned politics, pop culture and current affairs with a comic absurdity befitting of Our Times. Its seeds of eccentricity were sown in foremother The Good Wife (Prime Video), but this scrappy satire about a prestigious Chicago law firm quickly outgrew its procedural roots, maturing into a sharp, witty and judicious thorn in the side of the One-Percenters. Pitch‑perfect writing and direction is delivered with salty aplomb by a cracking ensemble cast, led by Christine Baranski as figurehead attorney Diane Lockhart. It’s a role for which she received six consecutive Emmy nominations for her dramatic interpretation on Wife, though none as yet for her comedy chops on Fight (and to that I say, “Objection!”). Like many American series, The Good Fight had to halt production back in March, so the show’s fourth season – on SBS and SBS on Demand from 23 September – is only seven episodes long. The good news? Each one is dynamite, blasting the usual suspects and, surprisingly, a few names previously enshrined to progressive sainthood. No holds barred, this round is the highest rated yet, with a fifth already greenlit despite (or, perhaps, because of) the pandemic. Year after year, The Good Fight bests itself, even if the powers that be refuse to see it. AK

18 SEP 2020

RATCHED

FIGHT FOR YOUR RIGHT... TO EMMY

A pastel world of companionship awaits at Rainbow Bay – a seaside city where the only folks friendlier than the locals are their dogs – in the world’s first combination pet-and-dating-simulator. For clarity, the prospective beaus are Homo sapiens, not canine; the pet-care element is separate to the courting. That said, the aim of the game is to develop meaningful relationships with everyone you meet, regardless of species, as you gad about town wooing non-player characters, and teaching your newly adopted furever friend the ways of the world. Low on character customisation but heavy on exposition, Best Friend Forever takes some time to hit its stride. Building momentum as you bond with your dog and your dates, the dialogue and plot points are, for the most part, rom-com cute. Mildly irritating US accents are belied by splashes of endearing dagginess that give away the game’s Kiwi origins. Wellington developers Starcolt, whose motto is “We deal in feels”, have gifted gamers of all pedigrees a story-driven sim that’s joyful, empathetic, a real treat. AIMEE KNIGHT

Music Reviews

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n a year of stop-starts, new beginnings, never-ending endings and just genuine, utter chaos, I have decided to step away from my role as Music Editor of The Big Issue. This is, in large part, because I have been growing a little human who is due to arrive in the world shortly. But also because it has been a total privilege being ed for nearly four years, and the time seems right to let someone else have that opportunity. The final line in my first-ever column here was “good riddance 2016!” which, considering 2020, now seems a little bit bloody dramatic of me. At the time, I was reflecting on the musicians we had recently lost – Bowie, Prince, Sharon Jones – but also looking to the future, excited at the prospect of a summer of new music and shows. I would never have guessed that only a few years later we’d be entering a summer likely devoid of so much: there will be no festivals, or big headline gigs, and even local ones seem increasingly unlikely or compromised. I don’t mean to pump up the gloom – for 2020 did gift us Cardi B’s extraordinary ‘WAP’ after all – but rather take this moment to reflect on what we still have. Brilliant albums and songs will still emerge, and the music community will find a way. All we can do is make sure we nurture it, appreciate it and support those who need it. I know The Big Issue will continue to do that in every way possible. SS

ST D I B LEA AT ’ S C A R E R THE

Sarah Smith Music Editor @sarah_smithie

THE ASCENSION SUFJAN STEVENS 

With Sufjan Stevens’ eighth album, The Ascension, the gauntlet is down. Fifteen songs detail the horror unfolding in America – culturally, socially, politically – and the innate betrayal of this demise. Stevens has always had a knack for covering dark subject matter with his delicate, often whispered vocals, and here it is no different. The album is also more electronic (Sufjan describes it as “lush”) than past releases, a modern take on his past folk forays. The title track – dripping in church-style choruses and ethereal vocalisation – is also a warning: do not be blind to what unfolds before you. Nothing happens without consequence. In the closing track ‘America’, the accusation is explicit: “Don’t do to me what you did to America.” The song repeats this chanted refrain, winding and soaring through its 12-and-a-half minutes. The outro moves slowly from sinister to divine, yet the end still brings melancholy. The Ascension is no doubt titled in irony, but it also holds hope. Because without hope, what is there? IZZY TOLHURST

OR NOT THIBAULT THIBAULT

BLAK MASS NARETHA WILLIAMS

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Melbourne’s Nicole Thibault returns with her first release in 15 years. Formerly in Minimum Chips, Thibault enlists some of her city’s most prolific musicians for this new project, including Rebecca Liston (Parsnip), Zak Olsen (Traffik Island, Orb) and Lachlan Denton (The Ocean Party) to bring a kaleidoscope of sounds to life. Or Not Thibault is not your ordinary pop record, with the songs interspersed by instrumental tracks that impressively showcase the band’s dexterity and experimental sensibilities. Thibault’s songwriting is at the fore, with ‘Centrelink’ and ‘Drama’ evidence of her empathetic lyrics. There is a tinge of melancholy on the record accentuated by Thibault’s airy voice – though the songs aren’t outwardly downbeat, they possess a wistfulness that is subtle but affecting. An interplay of synths and layered vocals takes songs down unconventional routes, seamlessly blending psychedelic and electronic sounds. Thibault’s signature trombone makes an appearance too, adding another dynamic layer to the band’s instrumentation. HOLLY PERIEIRA

Many musicians have employed Melbourne Town Hall’s grand organ, but none have bent it as dramatically to their will as Naretha Williams. On her debut album, the Wiradjuri woman manipulates the two‑storey behemoth using transformative effects and live electronics, creating what’s been described as “a uniquely Australian horror soundtrack”. A performance piece commissioned last year, Blak Mass maintains stunning power as a recorded work. Williams harnesses the moody, enveloping effect of intense instrumental music for instigation and protest, meditating on the organ itself as a symbol of European colonisation. She extracts impressive variety, rather than being content to simply pair the instrument’s deep reverberations with brooding beats. ‘Servitor for the Stolen’ is propulsive, while ‘Collective Consequences’ adds a swirl of psychedelic wooziness and ‘Carnivalhalla’ an unexpected element of whimsy (including theatrical groans). Lively and layered, this emotionally charged suite is ripe with affecting interpretations. DOUG WALLEN

Book Reviews

Thuy On Books Editor @thuy_on

MORE THAN A WOMAN CAITLIN MORAN

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Set in Melbourne’s northern hipster suburbs, a middle-aged couple juggling work lives, babysitters and insecurities decide to give polyamory a go. With varying anxieties about ethical non-monogamy, their motivations are potentially questionable. Chris adores his wife Sarah and craves her. But after having two children Sarah doesn’t feel the same about Chris, and explores her sexuality with other men. Unexpectedly, Chris meets Biddy, and is introduced to her world as they start a serious relationship. Meanwhile, Sarah struggles to find a similarly deep connection with her lovers. Then there’s Zac, an acquaintance who becomes the couple’s ideal babysitter and confidant, but are there more sinister motives at play? An exploration of identity and love with all their messy, flawed complexities, Poly commendably handles issues around mental illness and suicide. But it falls down with its lengthy depictions of the couple’s social-life minutiae and their refusal to confront responsibilities outside of romance. GEMMA MAHADEO

Caitlin Moran’s How to Be a Woman became an instant hit in 2011 with its canvassing of the relationship between feminism and patriarchy. It largely centred on the problems facing young women. Her latest book looks at the battles of the middle-aged (she now has teenagers of her own), and Moran’s idiosyncratic blend of firebrand musings, wit and humour returns as she explores issues facing women aged from their thirties onwards. Topics like sex and long-term relationships, physical acceptance, parenting, housework and ageing are all part of this manifesto. It may sound like dreary material you’ve read many times before, but Moran uses herself as the basis of her book and there are laugh-out-loud moments throughout, even as she talks about serious matters (for instance, she confesses to having “Womble-nose breasts that point downwards”). But don’t let the funny bits fool you; there’s a lot of sense and intellectual vigour as well in More Than a Woman.

DEATH IN HER HANDS OTTESSA MOSHFEGH 

In this, Ottessa Moshfegh’s fifth book, the narrator is 72-year-old Vesta, a woman living in a new town after the death of her husband. On a walk in the woods behind her home with her dog, Vesta finds a confessional note about the murder of a woman called Magda. It drives Vesta into a solitary and imaginary world – who was Magda and how could she have been killed? Was Magda even a real person? Is the note written as a joke? Moshfegh’s construction of Magda’s imagined life with this plot line falls short, but the mysterious dark and forbidding tone throughout, along with Moshfegh’s skill in exploring the small details (particularly the remembering of Vesta’s husband and the familial relationship with her dog Charlie) are a testament to her skill as a writer. This isn’t as exciting or as page-turning as Moshfegh’s previous books, but it is a beautiful blend of metaphysical suspense and mystery, and the bonds between humans, nature and animals. MANDY BEAUMONT

THUY ON

POLY PAUL DALGARNO

18 SEP 2020

espite that old adage, we all do judge a book by its cover – and this year’s 68th Australian Book Design Awards features some amazing artwork. The awards have many categories, devoted to different literary genres, but I’ll just focus on one in particular. The Booktopia Designers’ Choice Cover of the Year was jointly won by two books: Nick Gadd’s Death of a Typographer, designed by Stephen Banham, and Alice Robinson’s The Glad Shout, designed by Jenny Grigg. After the win, Banham told me, “This book design project was completely unique for a number of reasons. Not only was it a murder-mystery about typography (that’s unusual in itself ) but the fact that the main character was loosely based on my own life as a designer made this a very personally-invested project.” And Gadd added that the bloodstained punctuation mark “perfectly captured the quirky vibe I was aiming for in the novel”. As for Alice Robinson, she felt there was “something almost abstract… something fragile or vulnerable” about the woman’s figure on the cover of her cli-fi novel: “To me it looks as though she’s looking down at a babe in arms. And the stunning hue of blue resonates with the watery themes in the book: flood and the ocean.” TO

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Public Service Announcement

by Lorin Clarke @lorinimus

Here are some things that could be very helpful if written on a CV or in a dating app, but that don’t often get included. You might be the kind of person who is passionate about befriending other people’s dogs in the park. Your biggest strength might be attention to the details in the lives of the people around you – a name‑rememberer, a question-asker, the person who sits down next to someone at a party when nobody else noticed they were sitting alone by themselves. You might be passionate about organising the drawers in the bathroom, or sorting things into colours,

or arranging flowers, or getting the colour exactly right on the wall that’s being repainted, or nailing the lighting in the lounge room so that whenever anybody comes over to your house everything feels right – perfect and beautifully thought through. Your biggest strength might be the opposite of that. The people around you might roll their eyes and tease you for being messy, or late, or forgetful, but they might also know that the reason for that is your enthusiasm. Enthusiasm for whatever’s happening now. Enthusiasm for the people around you. An ability to run with things and pick everyone else up with you when you go. You might work well in a team. Not necessarily in the work setting you might boast about, but at the most important times. Like when you were kids and a fight started out about how to play a game. Or when your grandma was in hospital and everyone else was working and you were the one who made some phone calls so that problems nobody else had thought of yet just disappeared. Maybe attention to detail means you notice things. The way a woman pretending to read a book on a train is listening, actually, to the conversation taking place next to her – her little smile hidden behind the book. You notice the tiny fern fronds busting out of the crack halfway up the post office wall. You notice the moon, and people’s shoes, and the little clues that tell you something’s coming. Maybe you’re a really great manager. Managing your own things, and other people’s things, and rolling with the punches and planning a family event three years from now even though everybody knows Uncle Barry is going to be painful to organise. Stakeholder management is an important skill – keeping people from squabbling, holding a party together – but critical thinking can also be good. Nobody likes to feel like the bad guy, but sometimes it’s the person who spots the disasters early who solves the biggest problems well before they happen. Public Service Announcement: your CV is probably excellent. Everyone’s the right kind of person for something. Even Uncle Barry.

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

omeone sent me a job advertisement the other day. It was for a job a friend was interested in and the advertisement specified that the applicant had to be “the kind of person” who was “passionate about data management”. Now, I am sure there are people who are interested in whatever data management might be. I am sure there are even people who feel very strongly about the management of data. My friend is one of them. I am quite sure my friend can tell you all kinds of things that are wrong with the way data management tends to be…managed. The cynical theft, however, of the word “passionate” from its rightful place in romance novels, descriptions of historic grand-final comebacks, and Anne of Green Gables offends me deeply. This heinous linguistic crime occurs regularly in the world of employment marketing and should, in my view, become an indictable offence. Having said that, anyone who has written a CV might recognise an element of this in their own work. Have you ever said you are passionate about retail? Ever told anybody your main strength is your attention to detail? Guilty! Finding the perfect person for a job is kind of like finding the perfect romantic match. It’s important that the qualities of the two entities match up in just the right way – but sometimes it’s hard to know what those qualities are. The way we talk about this: it’s important that the right kind of person be selected. But some of the most important qualities in a prospective employee or partner are the ones that can’t be written down. Public Service Announcement: being the right kind of person isn’t always something you can nail down.

18 SEP 2020

What the CV Doesn’t See

Zacchary Bird

Tastes Like Home THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

Loukoumades Ingredients 2 teaspoons instant dried yeast 300g plain flour ½ teaspoon sea salt canola oil, for deep-frying vegan honey, for drizzling (recipe below, or use store-bought vegan honey) unsalted shelled pistachios, crushed, for sprinkling

Vegan Honey 2 litres fresh, cloudy or long-life apple juice 880g sugar 4 teaspoons carob syrup

Method Combine the yeast and 125ml warm water in a small jug and set aside for 10 minutes or until the mixture becomes frothy. You don’t need to add sugar for the yeast to work but adding a pinch of flour after a few minutes will give the yeast plenty of sugars to begin blooming. Place the flour and salt in a large bowl and stir to combine. Make a well in the centre and add the yeast mixture and 185ml water. Using a wooden spoon, bring the mixture together until you have a sticky, runny dough. Cover with plastic wrap and set aside in a warm spot for at least an hour, until doubled in size. To make the loukoumades, heat the canola oil in a large heavy-based saucepan over medium-high heat. Test if the oil is ready by inserting a wooden skewer or the handle of a wooden spoon; if the oil begins to bubble quickly then you’re ready to go. Here’s where it can get messy. Pour a little extra oil into a cup. Dip a metal dessertspoon into the oil, then use it to scoop out a spoonful of the dough mixture (the oil will make it easier for the dough to slide off). Use your finger to quickly slide the dough from the spoon into the hot oil. Aim for the most fluid motion you can, while also not dropping the loukoumades batter from too high into the oil. These factors will determine how round your doughnuts will be. Working in small batches, fry the loukoumades for 1-2 minutes, using a

slotted spoon to turn them in the oil. They will cook very fast so keep a keen eye on them. Once the loukoumades have an even golden coating, scoop them out and drain on a plate lined with paper towel. Place the warm loukoumades on a serving plate, drizzle over an unhealthy amount of honey and sprinkle with pistachios. Serve immediately. If you opt to make your own vegan honey, place the apple juice in a saucepan and bring to boil over medium heat. Simmer, maintaining a low boil, for about 45 minutes or until the juice has reduced by half. If using fresh or cloudy apple juice, frequently skim the surface to remove sediment. Smells good, right? In a separate saucepan, bring 1 litre of water to the boil over medium heat. Stir in the sugar and stir for 3 minutes or until the sugar has dissolved. Pour the sugar syrup into the reduced apple juice. Keep the sweetened apple juice bubbling for 1-1½ hours, until the liquid has reduced to about 750ml and resembles a honey-like thickness. Use a candy thermometer to keep an eye on the temperature; if it goes over 112ºC the final product will be firmer than a syrup and it won’t work as a pourable honey. Remove the pan from the heat and stir in the carob syrup. Allow to cool before pouring into sterilised jars for storage. The honey will keep in the pantry for several months.

Zacchary says…

VEGAN JUNK FOOD BY ZACCHARY BIRD IS OUT NOW.

18 SEP 2020

Tastes Like Home edited by Anastasia Safioleas

PHOTOS BY PETE DILLON

y first experience with loukoumades as a kid was in a fairly unorthodox setting – Brisbane International Airport. We had only a few hours during a flight changeover, so what better time to catch up with the local extended family? I’m talking about the sort of aunties who begin cooking before you’ve even decided you’re coming, and the type to send you off with a few extra kilograms under your belt plus a jar of homemade mango chutney for later. We had no hope of merely passing through without being fed first. Into the departure lounge they marched: an army of five-feet tall Greek women, laden with Tupperware, and blinding bystanders with aluminium-foil-wrapped treats. Nestled among the smorgasbord were little fried balls of dough, still slightly warm. Loukoumades! Some wonderfully round, some with their own tails, all perfect. Next to them was an old jam jar filled with honey for dipping and making sure cleaning up was as difficult as possible. What a delight! My grandmother always says loukoumades are best enjoyed on a cold, rainy day. Given her hometown holds the annual rainfall record for Australia, I’ve taken this to mean these Greek-style doughnuts are an everyday treat. She and her sisters, as with so many of our family favourites, each have their own little tweaks to the original recipe and a wealth of opinions as to why theirs is better. Sometimes you’ll get something closer to the shape of a puftaloon or the honey might be omitted altogether, while a sprinkling of nutmeg instead of cinnamon seems to attract the most criticism. Whichever version, the basics stay the same and as simple as ever: flour, yeast, sugar and salt combined and left to rise before being fried and drenched in something syrupy. Over the years, crushed pistachios or walnuts have become a must-have topping for me. The extra crunch and nutty flavour feels a little more sophisticated and helps cut through the sweetness of the syrup. Whether it’s rainy or not, today seems like a great day to try making vegan junk food and treating yourself to a big batch of loukoumades.

Puzzles

ANSWERS PAGE 45

By Lingo! by Lauren Gawne lingthusiasm.com FRANK

CLUES 5 letters Collect bit by bit Make changes to Sound or fjord Stare threateningly Visitor from space 6 letters Deer’s horn Friendly Intertwined mess Lease payment Sifting device 7 letters Bloat Dependent (on) Easily broken Lock of hair 8 letters Fundamental

F G N

Sudoku

by websudoku.com

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

3 6 4 8

5 4 6 1

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

5 3 7 6

Puzzle by websudoku.com

Solutions CROSSWORD PAGE 45 ACROSS 1 Uncertain 6 Poser 9 Air-conditioning

10 Exam 11 Diligent 14 Relieving 15 Audio 16 Album 18 Squelches 20 Jason Day 21 Item 25 Southern Comfort 26 Sit-up 27 Detonated

DOWN 1 Usage 2 Curtail 3 Rook 4 Aide 5 Nothing but 6 Profitable 7 Stipend 8 Righteous 12 Penmanship 13 First aired 14 Readjusts 17 Biscuit 19 Hotfoot 22 Mated 23 Scat 24 Omen

20 QUESTIONS PAGE 9 1 The World Wide Web 2 5.33m 3 Mali 4 ‘I Got a Woman’ 5 Novak Djokovic 6 36 7 Trees 8 16.3 per cent 9 Insulting the monarch/monarchy 10 8 11 Japan 12 Black Is King 13 Novichok 14 An Emmy award (named after an “immy”, or image orthicon) 15 Pineapple 16 Nancy Cartwright 17 Hooves 18 Boundary Islet (in the Hogan Island Group) 19 A wishbone 20 The olive family

18 SEP 2020

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

It’s good to be free, which is why frank pops up in so many places across English. The Franks were a Germanic nation, who in the sixth century conquered Gaul, a large area in Western Europe covering much of France and Switzerland (as well as Luxembourg, Belgium and parts of Northern Italy, the Netherlands and Germany). The Franks gave their name to the country of France. Not being ruled by the Roman Empire, their name became synonymous with freedom in Latin. Thanks to borrowings from Latin at various points, English has frank to mean someone is liberally outspoken, and franked letters that could be mailed at no cost to the sender. It’s also where we get the name Frank for a person.

Crossword

by Steve Knight

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

Quick Clues ACROSS

1 Hesitant (9) 6 Show-off (5) 9 Temperature control (3-12) 10 Test (4) 11 Conscientious (8) 14 Soothing (9) 15 Sound (5) 16 Record (5) 18 Stifles (9) 20 Australian golfer (5,3) 21 Component (4) 25 Brand of bourbon (8,7) 26 Type of exercise (3-2) 27 Exploded (9)

11 12

DOWN

21 23

Cryptic Clues

Solutions

ACROSS

DOWN

1 Cute inn with topless bar running at a loss (9) 6 Dud, after first passing driver’s test he sat (5) 9 . Maybe IRA is cooler? (3-12) 10 Test cockney’s omelette recipe? (4) 11 Particular fellow from Timor-Leste (8) 14 Spelling “inveigler” incorrectly (9) 15 Sound investment offshore starts backing local

1 Dubious agenda items for convention (5) 2 Dock this from dog? (7) 3 Hustle Crow? (4) 4 Assistant at New Idea … (4) 5 …just bought inn renovated last August (7,3) 6 Commercial for Formula One schedule (10) 7 Lean forward to receive regular payment (7) 8 Moral dilemma for this rogue (9) 12 Prison fellow’s cool calligraphy (10) 13 Pilot appeared then dismissed over single step

currency (5)

16 Help – he’s slipped disc (5) 18 Suppresses clue she’s concocted over initial query (9) 20 Journey ends draped across convertible as a nod to

professional Aussie driver (5,3) 21 A bit time poor (4) 25 Bourbon Street’s entertaining cohort more fun when drunk (8,7) 26 Crunch the numbers starting from Putin’s backflip (3-2) 27 Went off to posh school with old-fashioned clothing (9)

1 Application (5) 2 Shorten (7) 3 Chess piece (4) 4 Assistant (4) 5 Solely (7,3) 6 Lucrative (10) 7 Regular payment (7) 8 Virtuous (9) 12 Handwriting (10) 13 When a media broadcast debuted (5,5) 14 Changes setting (9) 17 Cracker (7) 19 Sprint (colloq.) (7) 22 Produced offspring (5) 23 Animal droppings (4) 24 Portent (4)

in flight (5,5)

14 Resets jewel originally embedded in fancy ear

studs (9)

17 Nice for one to order lobster soup with it (7) 19 Bolt a popular legend? (7) 22 Spin team and Democrat formed union (5) 23 Leave droppings (4) 24 Warning ladies heading off (4)

SUDOKU PAGE 43

8 5 7 1 2 9 6 4 3

2 3 1 8 4 6 7 9 5

9 6 4 3 5 7 8 1 2

3 4 2 7 9 5 1 8 6

1 8 6 2 3 4 9 5 7

7 9 5 6 1 8 2 3 4

5 1 9 4 6 2 3 7 8

4 2 8 9 7 3 5 6 1

6 7 3 5 8 1 4 2 9

Puzzle by websudoku.com

WORD BUILDER PAGE 43 5 Glean Alter Inlet Glare Alien 6 Antler Genial Tangle Rental Filter 7 Inflate Reliant Fragile Ringlet 8 Integral 9 Faltering

18 SEP 2020

Click words by Michael Epis photo by Getty

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

16 OCTOBER 1968

Peter Norman, Tommie Smith and John Carlos

ustralia’s Peter Norman had no idea what he was in for when he set foot on the Olympic track in Mexico City to compete in the 200m sprint final. He ran a personal best of 20 seconds flat, but Tommie Smith ran quicker, so Norman had to be happy with the silver medal, while John Carlos took bronze. But that’s not the story.

Before the medal ceremony, Americans Smith and Carlos had a word with Norman. They asked him if he believed in human rights, if he believed in God. He did. Carlos later said he expected to see fear in Norman’s eyes. Instead, he said, he saw love. “I’ll stand with you,” Norman told them. Smith raised his gloved right hand and made a fist, the Black

Power salute, a salute associated with the Black Panthers and other fighters for the rights of African‑Americans. Carlos raised his gloved left hand. Norman stood, a human rights badge pinned to his chest, with his fellow medallists. Carlos had forgotten his gloves, so they split a left and a right, on Norman’s suggestion. There was no glove for Norman – so he sought out one of those badges. “I believe in human rights,” Norman said years later in the documentary The Salute. “The fact that we were on different teams, our skins were different colours, didn’t make that much difference.” Smith and Carlos were banned from the Olympic Village and sent home. The only work Smith could find when he got home was washing cars. Their gesture had been feared in advance. Black athletes had almost boycotted the Games altogether. America was still burning after the assassination of Martin Luther King months before, and the subsequent riots. Death threats to the athletes were a daily occurrence in Mexico City. Earlier that October, Mexico’s armed forces had killed hundreds of protestors in the Tlatelolco massacre. Despite ranking fifth in the world at that time, Norman was not selected for the 1972 Olympics. He was not invited to the 2000 Sydney Olympics (where his time in the 200m would have won gold). When the US Olympic Committee heard that, they invited him as their guest of honour. On 3 October 2006 Peter Norman died of a heart attack, aged 64. Six days later Tommie Smith and John Carlos spoke at his funeral in Melbourne. The US Track and Field Federation declared that day Peter Norman Day.

17 APR 2020