The Big Issue Australia #642 – Jock Zonfrillo by The Big Issue Australia

Ed.

642

06 AUG 2021

16.

HOMELESSNESS WEEK

24.

WALKING THE CAMINO

28.

and NGAIIRE

M AST ER C H EF ’S

ON H O M EL ES SN ES ADDICTION AND HIS

FOOD OBSESSION

NO CASH? NO WORRIES! Some Big Issue vendors now offer contactless payments.

NATIONAL OFFICE Chief Executive Officer Steven Persson Chief Financial Officer Jon Whitehead Chief Operating Officer Chris Enright Chief Communications Officer Emma O’Halloran National Operations Manager Jeremy Urquhart EDITORIAL Editor Amy Hetherington Deputy Editor Melissa Fulton Contributing Editor Michael Epis Contributing Editor Anastasia Safioleas Editorial Coordinator Lorraine Pink Art Direction & Design GOZER (gozer.com.au) CONTRIBUTORS

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Contents

EDITION

642

16 A Place to Call Home When COVID struck, more than 40,000 Australians were housed in emergency accommodation – but what about a forever home?

24 Stepping Out Bestselling authors Graeme Simsion and Anne Buist don’t just write together, they walk together, too. Here they hike the Camino.

28 MUSIC

Breaking Three

12.

“I Wasn’t Homeless By Choice.” In his Letter to My Younger Self, MasterChef’s Jock Zonfrillo reveals his battle with addiction, his obsession with food and cooking – and how his nonno taught him that there’s no such thing as a good habit.

THE REGULARS

26 Ricky 27 Fiona 34 Film Reviews 35 Small Screen Reviews 36 Music Reviews 37 Book Reviews

40 TASTES LIKE HOME

Green Pockets

contents photo by Tina Smigielski cover photo by Jacqui Way

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

Ngaiire’s soulful new album 3 is a collection of love letters to herself, her country and her nearest and dearest.

39 Public Service Announcement 43 Puzzles 45 Crossword 46 Click

Cornersmith’s delicious green pockets are on the money: fried doughy parcels packed full of cheesy, vegetable goodness. Yum!

Ed’s Letter

by Amy Hetherington Editor @amyhetherington

Making Census

LETTER OF THE FORTNIGHT

ery soon, if you haven’t already, you’ll be asked to sum up your life by checking a series of boxes. Are you married? Do you speak Mandarin at home? Do you work part-time? Have you ever been diagnosed with diabetes or depression? It’s census night, allowing the Australian Bureau of Statistics to paint a picture of our nation – how we are changing, and have been changed by COVID. For most of us, we already know where we’ll be staying on the evening of Tuesday 10 August. But for those Australians without a home, it’s not so simple. The last census in 2016 found that 116,427 of us were homeless. An increase of almost 14 per

cent in five years, it revealed that one in 200 Australians were without a safe, secure place of their own. It can be easy to get lost in these numbers, but every single one of them is a person who doesn’t have somewhere to sleep tonight. Tomorrow, the same. In this edition, which falls in Homelessness Week, we go beyond the statistics to hear from the people these numbers represent. Big Issue vendors Jannah in Perth and Nathan in Brisbane share their lived experiences of homelessness, and the importance of having a place to call home. We also speak to MasterChef judge Jock Zonfrillo, who shares his own struggles with homelessness as a teenager. As he says: “I wasn’t homeless by choice.” No-one is.

IT’S BIG, BIG, BIG!

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

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

Your Say

Brian sells The Issue, The Big Issue Brian is the big issue, always was really – to us anyway See, Brian’s been sick, really sick. We, his customers, rallied behind him during his period of illness, throwing in a few extra “coins” of support as he recovered. A nice, quiet man, Brian seldom has a mean word for anyone. And I’ve no need to check the weather forecast: he performs that role expertly. Brian has now returned to his valued “pozzie” outside Coles supermarket. Though somewhat “battered and bruised” and now in a motorised scooter, Brian’s well and truly back on deck and continues to be my barometer. PHILIP RICHARDS WILLIAMSTOWN I VIC

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

Philip wins a copy of Cornersmith’s new cookbook Use It All. Check out their recipe for Green Pockets on p40. We’d also love to hear your thoughts, feedback and suggestions: submissions@bigissue.org.au. SUBMISSIONS@BIGISSUE.ORG.AU

YOUR SAY SUBMISSIONS MAY BE EDITED FOR CLARITY AND SPACE.

Meet Your Vendor

Cindy

SELLS THE BIG ISSUE AT ADELAIDE SHOWGROUNDS FARMERS MARKET, BLACKWOOD AND GOODWOOD, ADELAIDE

interview by Rebecca Dempsey photo by Nat Rogers

PROUD UNIFORM PARTNER OF THE BIG ISSUE VENDORS.

06 AUG 2021

Growing up in Tassie, Mum raised us, and we never had much money. I am the middle of three kids and both my siblings were boys. Mum wasn’t really a girly-girl, so I grew up pretending I was a guy. I didn’t grow up with another female who did the girl stuff. It was hard. I went to a primary school in the area and Mum helped me get extra support – it wasn’t a lot though. In high school I was put into a mainstream class, but I was always slipping behind, so I left when I was 16. Just because I couldn’t keep up and there wasn’t much support for me. My school years were quite dark, horrible even. I found it hard at an all-girls school. If I went to a co-ed school, I probably would have fitted in better. At 18 I went to live with Dad, but we had an argument and I had to move out. I wasn’t talking to Mum or Dad, so ended up in a women’s shelter, where I found acceptance from the staff and the other women. I got some counselling to help with my mental health. It did improve. After that I was couch surfing for two years. During the day I’d go to drop-in centres or hang around the streets because I had nothing to do. I finally got a trolley job which was seven bucks an hour, not really a bread-winning job. I also did an office placement for nine months. When that finished, I did a business course, and had a downward spiral of depression. At the same time, I got involved with The Big Issue’s Street Soccer Program in Hobart. I was into it in no time. I went to the 2010 and 2011 soccer nationals in Sydney. And I got selected for the Homeless World Cup in Paris in 2011. I scored the first goal for Australia, from a penalty! I ended up leaving for Adelaide the following year and began selling The Big Issue. Then I moved to Brisbane for about six years and I sold up there. It was nice but I think I hung in there longer than I should have. It was better to leave, to get out. My life is so different now compared to when I was in Brisbane. I’ve always wanted a spot where I feel happy and comfortable and relaxed, and Adelaide’s it. I just love it. There are lovely awesome people here and the customers support me. I’m still playing Street Soccer and enjoy going out to Port Adelaide; I get to meet new people and can ride my bike there from home. I like working the suburban pitches because I know I will see familiar faces and I can count on regular sales. It brings in money, which means I can keep feeding my bird Sunny! Today I’ve got important people in my life that I cherish to bits. I wouldn’t change anything. I’ve got someone special who I’m very close to and who I can see in my longterm future. And while my older brother and my dad have passed I still have a lot of phone contact with Mum, every day.

Streetsheet

Stories, poems and pictures by Big Issue vendors and friends

Let It Grow

D B U F F A N IE L : A LO S TA N CE

Selling The Big Issue is the best job I’ve ever had. I enjoy saying hello to my customers and smiling at people as they walk by. It makes my day, coming to work. I suffer from a few mental illnesses and The Big Issue helps me get out of the house, meet new people and earn an income. I also attend regular meetings at a mental health wellness organisation called Grow. This has helped me become more comfortable in groups of people. I am a recovering compulsive gambler and have been attending a peer support group. This group has helped me to stop gambling for seven years and 10 months, which has improved my quality of life. The highlight of the last eight years is getting married to my wife Heather. Thank you to all my wonderful customers. MICHAEL CNR ALBERT & CHARLOTTE STS I BRISBANE

Super Cool VENDOR SPOTLIGHT

DANIEL K

Mine, All Mine

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

went to Coober Pedy a few weeks ago. Due to COVID-19, my boarding house does not allow me to travel interstate. I didn’t want this to get me down, so I thought I’d go mining instead! I went to the mines in Coober Pedy. Although I tried, unfortunately I did not find any opals. I did go to an outback hotel that had a dead water buffalo! I saw the Breakaways mountain ranges. I was also lucky enough to go on the Outback Mail Run where we stopped at the Andamooka hotel for coffee and refreshments (beer). DANIEL K WAYMOUTH & HUTT ST I ADELAIDE

I live in Canberra and guess what the government forgot to do on a cold day? They forgot to pay their electricity bill! That’s why it’s so cold in Canberra. The other joke I like to play on customers when they are cold is to say that it’s nice and warm today. Then they’ll say to me “No! It’s freezing cold!” then I say “Yes, it is! It’s nice and warm inside, but it’s freezing cold outside.” So, if you work outside like I do, it’s best to make yourself think you are inside so you can stand up outside for a few hours and hopefully make some money! GRANT W WODEN TOWN CENTRE I CANBERRA

Many Happy Returns I left my bag on the bus and didn’t realise until I had gotten off. The next day, one of the managers of the Kirribilli Chambers bottle shop came out and returned my bag.

They told me, “One of your friends found it, and left it here for me to return.” I was very worried as I had left all of my money and magazines in the bag and thought I wouldn’t get them back. I was ecstatic. I am truly blessed and thankful for my beautiful customers.

and earn an income. We vendors are traders for The Big Issue – we carry the name but work for ourselves. I have a lot of pride in that.

ALEX MILSONS POINT I SYDNEY

My best memory of selling The Big Issue was back in 2014, when I started to sell the magazine while sorting out problems in my life. I desperately needed accommodation: my permanent residency was in limbo. I flew back to Thailand, got a police check, then came back to reapply for my Australian citizenship. My application was rejected three times due to an uncertain address, incomplete documents and inappropriate accommodation. At a backpackers’ where I resided,

Dream Team Do you know how this magazine is put together and how it is distributed? It’s not just vendors out on the street selling the mag; there’s a lot more that goes on behind the scenes. There’s a team of hardworking people who you don’t see that make it easier for us vendors to do our job. Vendors pay $4.50 for each mag, half of the cover price, and we keep the extra profit. That allows us to invest in more mags

DAVID H&M BOURKE ST MALL I MELBOURNE

Road to Citizenship

I was bullied, my stuff was stolen and I faced ongoing racial assault. There were bedbugs and scabies there as well. Long story short: after nine months of struggling to deal with my homelessness issues, I was called to be interviewed for St Bart’s transitional accommodation. As soon as the interview was over, I was invited to choose a secure room. I was shifted to long-stay community housing nine months after that – and have been there since. I became an Australian citizen in 2015. I acknowledge that The Big Issue had a significant role in ending my homelessness, while my Big Issue vendor job was both valued and accepted in the eyes of government sectors and other organisations who deal with homelessness. PAT HIS MAJESTY’S THEATRE I PERTH

Jock It to Me!

06 AUG 2021

GLENN F CENTRAL STATION I SYDNEY

ND NN A GLE OOKING C : K JOC TH GAS WI

ALL VENDOR CONTRIBUTORS TO STREETSHEET ARE PAID FOR THEIR WORK.

The 25th anniversary magazine started off well – my first customer was MasterChef judge (and Big Issue cover star!) Jock Zonfrillo. I love watching MasterChef, so it was an honour meeting him on my pitch outside David Jones in Sydney. Thank you for the photo Jock.

Hearsay

Andrew Weldon Cartoonist

“

I don’t usually say things like this but coming here, I wanted to win... To finish now and I’ve got, what? Four of them? I can’t believe it.

Australia’s most decorated Olympian, Emma McKeon, on quietly lapping up four gold medals in the pool at Tokyo, totalling a record seven medals at this Olympics. She’s racked up 11 Olympic medals in her career – the most by any Australian, ever. THE AUSTRALIAN I AU

HINDUSTAN TIMES I IN

THE AGE I AU

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

SMITHSONIAN I US

“These brain circuits are self‑organised at birth and some of the early teachings is already done. It’s like dreaming about what you are going to see before you even open your eyes.” Professor Michael Crair, from Yale School of Medicine, on a new study of mice that suggests mammals dream about the world they’re about to enter before they’re even born.

“I think about how many tears have come through this face, how much joy, how much exhaustion or exuberance – that’s an incredible collection of experience that this really small area of my body has taken on.” Actor Justine Bateman (Family Ties) on facing the realities of aging in Hollywood head on.

with pain. I did it once and I’ll never do it again; however, my daughter won a gold medal in it.” Gina Kalloch, chairwoman of the World Eskimo-Indian Olympics and Koyukon Athabascan woman, on the infamous ear-pulling event, a tug-of‑war involving a piece of sinew looped behind each of the competitors’ ears. The aim: ripping the sinew off your opponent’s ear.

“At the end of the day, I’m such a huge athlete, but who am I? If you take off that mask, you know, who will I be? I’m still trying to find that out.” Even before she withdrew from the Tokyo Olympics team final, Simone Biles, the greatest gymnast of all time, was pondering her life outside of sport. THE NEW YORK TIMES I US

“Good on ya, ladies. I’ll be happy to pay for your fines. Keep it up.”

Popstar Pink throws her support behind Norway’s beach handball team, offering to pay the 1500 euro fine they copped for wearing bike shorts instead of bikini bottoms. TWITTER

“That’s where my gunning started. You don’t really need a brain to play that mode; you can just run around with a [rifle] and kill everyone, have fun, you know?” Streamer Liam “Jukeyz” James on how he’s made a name for himself as a gaming athlete – only the second to be sponsored by Red Bull. He’s gunning to win the Call of Duty World Series this month – and the $415,000 prize. NME I UK

“The ear pull is specifically designed to be a competition to withstand pain. The pain mimics what it’s like to experience frostbite and teaches people to learn to deal

“The sun is not always shining, water is drying up, fossil fuels are not always going to be used, but people are always moving.” Jeremiah Thoronka, founder of Optim Energy, on using kinetic energy from road traffic and pedestrians to generate clean electricity in Sierra Leone, where just 26 per cent of the population have access to electricity. BBC I UK

“I don’t wear a bra. I can’t wear a bra. I can’t, no. I can’t.” Actor Gillian Anderson (The X-Files) on her “go-to lockdown outfit”, when getting dressed in more than your trackies is just plain alien. THE NEW DAILY I AU

“I was looking for Cheetos to list on eBay, and my dad uncovered one that looked like Elvis. At first, I didn’t see Elvis, until my dad showed me a picture that had an amazing resemblance to [the Cheeto].”

20 Questions by Rachael Wallace

01 Who was recently re-elected

as Mayor of London? 02 What does the Latin phrase sub rosa

refer to? 03 What is the chemical symbol

of potassium? 04 Who lit the flame at the opening

ceremony of the Tokyo Olympic Games? 05 Rock band Silverchair hail from

which Australian town? 06 True or false? The sum of all

numbers on a roulette wheel adds up to 666. 07 Which former Bond girl was once

married to Charlie Sheen? 08 In what year did Australians vote

in favour of marriage equality? 09 What is secretly hidden in the

mountain of the Toblerone logo?

“In 2017 I opened my glorious gift box of size 13 shoes. I could not have guessed the brilliant adventures, worlds and wonders I was to see in them.” Actor Jodie Whittaker on having the Time Lord of her life as Doctor Who. She’s set to hand over the Tardis to a new Doctor in 2022. BBC I UK

“One of the last things they do before they’re intubated is beg me for the vaccine. I hold their hand and tell them that I’m sorry, but it’s too late.”

NBC NEWS I US

“It took two hours to remove him and I think they went through about three bottles of baby oil to get him out.” Rachel Beech, founder of Just Cats, on the rescue of Jasper, the nine-week-old kitten who fell asleep in freshly laid bitumen – and got stuck until workers found him the next morning. He still has eight lives. HOBART MERCURY I AU

“Faith organisations and social media are a natural fit because both are about connection.” Sheryl Sandberg, Facebook’s chief operating officer, on the company’s reincarnation as the biggest online forum for religious communities, offering America’s megachurches tools for fundraising and prayer requests.

10 Which Australian AFL player

has had their famous 2019 kick immortalised in bronze? 11 Which Australian author won the

inaugural Miles Franklin Award in 1957? 12 What is the name of the famously

crooked street in San Francisco? 13 In the musical Hamilton, which

character sings ‘The Room Where It Happens’? 14 What is the cause of the medical

condition scurvy? 15 In which continent did tomatoes

originate? 16 Which US city has an underground

subway system that was built but never used? 17 How many legs does a lobster have? 18 What is the alcoholic component

of a bloody Mary? 19 What is the official language

of Bulgaria? 20 How long is the course in Sydney’s

annual City2Surf race?

06 AUG 2021

VICE I US

Dr Brytney Cobia of Alabama, USA, offers a heartbreaking firsthand account of treating critical COVID patients who regret not getting inoculated.

THE AUSTRALIAN I AU

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

ANSWERS ON PAGE 43

Blake Recker on the Cheeto he hopes Very Nice Dad: “But we’ve will help pay his done lots of new things this morning. Now it’s Dad’s turn.” college tuition. Small Girl: “Whine, whine.” The cheese-dusted Very Nice Dad: “But Dad snack is listed at loves Bunnings.” US$100,000 on Overheard by Pat in Brisbane, eBay, one of many Qld. weird-shaped Cheetos that are up for auction at jaw‑dropping prices. EAR2GROUND

My Word

by Mary Powell

’ve been thinking about why I give so much space to clothes that belonged to loved ones who have died. During lockdowns, my attention has been drawn to my overflowing cupboards. I’ve been home so much, this “stuff” has started to feel like a weight that’s rolling over the house and smothering it. Like the contents of the house is trying to push me out. I’m sentimental, and I worry this makes me a hoarder. As I open a full-to-bursting wardrobe, I find a browny-yellow cardigan my dad wore during the last year of his life. It’s knitted in a complicated

He used the cardigan as a dressing gown when he got up…to make the toast and tea. It was part of him. Aran pattern by Mum. Dad had given her detailed instructions as to the size of the pockets and where they needed to go. The southern part of New Zealand, where Dad lived, is cold in winter and he spent most of his last winter parked in his chair with the newspaper, his thin frame cuddled into this cardigan. He did the crossword and kept yelling out clues in the hope that one of us would know the answer. When he shuffled around the garden with Mum – who was the gardener in the family – telling her what should be done to maintain it, he wore the cardigan. He used it as a dressing gown when he got up in the morning to make the toast and tea. It was part of him. I rescued it when I saw it heading for an op shop. When I look at it now, I see Dad in his worn chair hitting the newspaper to get it folded the way he liked it, his frail body wrapped in its browny-yellow cosiness. I’ve

worn the cardigan on occasions. I find it warm but rather bulky with all the pockets. I place it back into the drawer where it takes up about three-quarters of the space. I also keep a stylish fawn trench coat that belonged to one of my most beloved friends. It’s rather big for me, but as I pull the belt tight, I feel close to her. She died a few years ago, leaving a large gap in my life. I ended up with her beautiful coat, a coat she loved. I never saw her wearing it, but I have a long email – a letter really – from her, describing in detail how she wore it in Paris, just after she bought it, and felt part of the crowd on the Champs-Élysées. She was a Parisienne when she wore that coat. She loved herself in it, and kept her mouth shut so her basic French wouldn’t give her away. As I stow the coat away, I smile; it has an English label – not French, after all. But I imagine my friend blending well into fashionable Paris. I wore it last winter when I walked in the Melbourne rain along narrow, gloomy Nelson Street to Carlisle Street where I worked. I felt the glamour, and imagined I too was swinging along a leafy Parisian boulevard. I even felt her presence – just for a moment. Hanging in my wardrobe is also a quilted, button-through dressing gown of my mother’s. It’s a striking garment, covered in flowers, which gives the impression you’re wandering around encased in an English country garden. Mum saw it in an expensive shop in her local town, a shop long gone now, and she fell in love. She rang to discuss whether she was justified in spending an exorbitant sum on something that she would “just wear around the house”. I said I thought she was, if she loved it. She carried it home wrapped in tissue paper, wore it for dinner that evening, and at every other opportunity for years afterwards. In the last few months of her life, when she was in an aged care home, she refused to take the gown with her, in case someone stole it. Other people’s clothes will continue to take up space in my crowded closets. They trigger visual memories, and often a very real sense that their original owner is around me. There will never be a right time for me to cull these clothes – that will be someone else’s job when I won’t need them anymore.

Mary Powell is a freelance writer who lives in Melbourne.

Custodian of cardigan, inheritor of trench coat, Mary Powell remembers absent loved ones through their wardrobe favourites.

06 AUG 2021

Hearts on Sleeves

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

BY CHOICE”

PHOTO BY TINA SMIGIELSKI

Letter to My Younger Self

“I WASN’T

HOMELESS

@anast

f I was to describe my 16-year-old self I would describe him as a drug addict. I had just gone to the Turnberry [a luxury Scottish hotel now owned by Donald Trump] as an apprentice and found myself in what was like chef army barracks. It was full-on, especially for a young kid. I was unleashed from home and in another world trying to keep up with the excesses of chefs. As a 16-year-old I was hanging out with 20-, 30-, 40-year-olds who were all taking excessive amounts of drugs and partying hard. The other part of me was my need to learn and become a chef, to learn the craft of cooking. I was very career orientated and aggressive in that regard; nothing was going to stop me from being the best. But I was a young kid trying to work out if this was my life now. I don’t want to say I was confused by it, but I didn’t really know what you were supposed to do. By then my 16-year-old self had been exposed to a lot. I’d had a couple of part-time jobs, I had a taste for drugs, had a taste of freedom living on my own. There was absolutely an established addiction to narcotics by then, without question, and the beginning of quite a nasty addiction to heroin. But I think food was an obsession more than an addiction. Those were the two things in my life really. People came and went,

places came and went, relationships came and went, but the two things that remained were always drugs and cooking food. I look back on that with a certain amount of regret. I burnt a lot of friendships and relationships at the cost of those two things, which isn’t necessarily a happy memory. What was I like at school? Not great, if I’m honest. I never wanted to be there. School was one of those things that I was told to do. I tolerated it and went every day. I hated the teachers. I just hated it. If I think back to any of my school days – primary school or high school – I can’t really think of happy memories. There was a lot of fighting. The first registration class in high school, when the art teacher was calling the registration, he called out my surname with the attitude that you were already burnt. I could tell just by the way he asked, “Are you any relation to Paul or Marco?” They were my cousins. I knew that my card was marked straight away. I was pretty young, but I already had a reasonable level of disappointment in people and could recognise what was coming. And Zonfrillo isn’t a common name in Scotland. Not only did it affirm that teacher’s suspicions, but it also made sure I was going to have a dreadful time in high school because he would have gone and told every other teacher. That provoked me to be a sarcastic little shit. Some people are just going to be against you. It’s no different to having

06 AUG 2021

by Anastasia Safioleas Contributing Editor

MasterChef’s Jock Zonfrillo talks homelessness, addiction and his lifelong obsession with food, from Glasgow to the Kimberley.

a surname like Zonfrillo and getting bullied because you’ve got mortadella sandwiches that smell of garlic in your lunchbox. It’s what happens. Racism wasn’t a subject parents broached back then. Neither was drugs. I was a young teenager from a middle-class family. I wasn’t homeless by choice – it was just circumstance. I was embarrassed by it. I had no money and a healthy drug addiction when I went to London to get a job. I got the job [at Hyde Park Hotel with Marco Pierre White] but I couldn’t afford to rent a flat or pay a deposit, so I signed up for a hospitality youth hostel. You had to be under 21, but there was a long waitlist to get a place in a dorm. I had nowhere to stay. I didn’t know anyone really in London. Being a proud person, I didn’t want anyone to know I didn’t have anywhere to live, but at the same time I wanted this job and I wanted to be successful. I had to make it work. That meant clocking out of my shift, walking around Hyde Park and then going back to the change rooms at nighttime and sleeping in there. I stayed in there for a while – until I got caught. I thought for sure I’m going to get sacked here but I didn’t get sacked. In fact, Marco helped me find a sofa at one of the lads’ places, and then actually he rang the hostel and asked them to bump me up the list a bit, which I was grateful for. You can find yourself homeless for a whole variety of reasons, and you don’t need to be from poverty, you don’t need to have had some dramatic life event to find yourself in that situation. It’s hard. I think the key thing there is trying to stay real and true and honest to yourself during that time. For me, certainly having Marco and work [helped] and, despite the drugs, I was fortunate enough to have this obsession. Heroin is such a thankless, nasty, piece-of-shit drug, but unless there is something more compelling, you’re just not going to get out of that cycle. Food was definitely something that held my focus ever since getting my first part-time job washing dishes. It was a high‑pressure, intense, exciting, inspiring environment to be in with these people who are so engaged with what they were doing. I hadn’t really seen that level of extreme passion.

I never expected to feel at home on Nyul Nyul Country in the middle of the Kimberley as much as I do walking the streets of Glasgow.

LAST SHOT BY JOCK ZONFRILLO (SIMON & SCHUSTER AUSTRALIA, $45) IS OUT NOW.

06 AUG 2021

TOP RECEIVING A SALON CULINAIRE AWARD AT 17 MIDDLE WITH DAUGHTER AVA BOTTOM JUDGING THE GRAND FINALE OF MASTERCHEF 2021

told me that they observe at least six seasons, depending on which part of the country they’re from, and take cues on when they can eat things by flowering plants or trees. Like when the tea-trees blossom, they know the fish are running up the coast. As a chef, I thought that was fascinating. That’s another level of relationship with produce that as a chef really fried my potatoes. Indigenous Australians were making damper out of grass seeds at least 40,000 years ago. So why weren’t people talking about that? The injustice of that pissed me off to the point where I decided I would do something about it. And the only way I know how to do something is through food. So that was it; I started to go out on Country and visit communities, trying to understand from their perspective what it means to be Australian and what their relationship to the land actually means. To try and understand some of the ingredients so that at some point we can have this ability to share their story in order to bring acknowledgement to their culture through food. I was happiest when my kids were born. The birth of your children is a special moment, something that undeniably brings you happiness on a level that you’ve never experienced. I now find myself in a situation where I’m happily married with [four] kids of all ages. I couldn’t be happier than to be locked down at home with my family, cooking, rolling around the floor with the kids. That for me is real happiness. Real joy. An addiction of any kind is inevitably dangerous, but an obsession can be even more dangerous. Food became an obsession for me from an early age. The obsession helped me conquer an addiction, but at the same time it pretty much blew up so many parts of my life along the way. My advice to my 16-year-old self is obsession is just as dangerous as addiction. Find somebody to help you with that. Find somebody to talk to you or mentor you [because that was] the bastard thing that tripped me up. That’s the thing that led me down so many dead-end roads.

PHOTOS SUPPLIED BY JOCK ZONFRILLO, KELLY GARDNER

I was like, wow. It was inspiring. I was drawn to it like a moth to a light from that first time. I was only 12. I was hooked. The biggest life lesson my parents passed on to me is to have a work ethic. My dad just worked and worked and worked. He was a barber and he was constantly working – career and work always came first. Mum was the same. If I think of my grandpa on my mum’s side, he was a farmer and a very broad-shouldered farming kind of guy. He was very work orientated. There was a belief that as long as you are trying your hardest – just going hell for leather the whole time – you were doing well. That came above everything else, which is part of the problem. Having that as your compass – that work is everything – made me a workaholic. That set me up for a lot of pain later in life. My nonno used to say to me that there was no such thing as a good habit. He used to say that because he always wanted us to better ourselves as kids. He was a barber too and he believed that if you got into the habit of cutting hair a certain way – even if you were doing a good job – it became a habit, and blocked you off from other ways of doing it. So I’ve spent my whole life questioning everything. If I look back to when I was 16, I already had ingrained in me that there was always a better way to do absolutely everything. The biggest surprise of my life is that I would end up spending a lot of time with Indigenous Australians. It wasn’t planned. But finding peace within that space took me by surprise. I never expected to feel at home on Nyul Nyul Country in the middle of the Kimberley as much as I do walking the streets of Glasgow. That I would feel more at home there than I would in Melbourne or Sydney. So that’s a surprise in my life. A very pleasant surprise. I met a guy called Jimmy, who was busking down in Circular Quay. This was back in 2001. It was meant to be a quick conversation and it turned into a four-hour sit down with Jimmy that just changed my perspective not only on what I’d been told about Indigenous Australians but also showed how little I knew about the people of the country I had decided to immigrate to. Jimmy

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A Place to Call Home When COVID struck last year, more than 40,000 Australians were housed in emergency accommodation. Melissa Fulton asks, where are they now?

illustrations by Michel Streich

We’re in the throes of a housing crisis. Jannah and Dakota are among the 155,000-plus households on waiting lists for social and public housing nationwide. “It’s really, really tough out there,” says Jenny Smith, CEO of the Council to Homeless Persons, which cites a lack of affordable housing as the single biggest cause of homelessness in this country – a problem that has only increased since the onset of the pandemic. So how did we get here? One of the few silver linings of COVID was that it put the right to housing back on the agenda. Nationwide, when the pandemic struck, governments snapped into action, adopting a public health response to homelessness, securing and funding emergency short-term accommodation for Australians

without a safe, secure place to call home – mostly in hotels and student accommodation. A UNSW study found that some 40,000 Australians in New South Wales, Victoria, South Australia and Queensland were given emergency accommodation between mid-March and September last year. JobKeeper payments and the doubling of JobSeeker, coupled with eviction moratoriums and restrictions on rental increases helped stave off disaster, protecting vulnerable Australians against the pandemic. It suggested a solution to homelessness was possible. The problem is that even before the pandemic, we were in a state of crisis. More than 116,000 Australians are homeless on any given night, and 15,800 of them are children under 12, like Dakota. In the 12 months before COVID, some 290,000 people received support from homelessness services, an increase of 14 per cent in four years, while another 250 people were turned away by emergency homelessness services each night due to a shortage of beds and a system buckling under the weight of demand. Now, with the winding back of many of the temporary crisis supports, coupled with the continued social and economic costs of the virus, we’re facing a substantial risk of increasing homelessness, according to a University of Melbourne study – especially among young people. Of those 40,000 people given emergency accommodation during the pandemic, only one third transitioned into more permanent housing. Following the recent lockdowns in NSW and Victoria, ACOSS reported that the demand for emergency relief services has increased by more than 800 per cent. “Requests for food, emergency relief and financial support have spiked significantly during lockdowns, while demand for housing support, mental health and family violence services have been increasing steadily over the course of the pandemic and are now at record levels,” says David Spriggs, CEO of Infoxchange Group, which operates Ask Izzy, a mobile app that connects people in need with services. “I would say I’ve observed in my personal interactions that people are inclined to think that something’s been done about homelessness, that homelessness has been solved, if you like, by the short-term hotel response,” says Jenny Smith. “And I’ve had to let them know that actually the fundamentals in our country have not changed in the slightest. We’ve missed a huge opportunity not to have a national initiative in relation to social housing.”

t’s just been like, ‘Is this for real?’” says single mum and Big Issue vendor Jannah on the moment she found out she’d been accepted for transitional housing in Perth. “It was an enormous relief. It was like, ‘Wow! A place to call home.’” Over the phone, Jannah sounds relaxed, positive, happy. It’s Thursday when we talk, and she just moved in on Monday – to a humble three-bedroom home with a front gate and some friendly neighbourhood birds, including a cheeky mudlark that visits every day. Already, Dakota*, Jannah’s 10-year-old daughter, has turned her bedroom into a TikTok studio, complete with LED lights. “She’s done her own bedroom, her own little design,” says Jannah. It’s been a long road for the two of them. In August last year, Dakota was diagnosed with a tumour in her foot. She was booked in for surgery and they were staying at Ronald McDonald House when they got the news from their landlord that they were being evicted. Since then, they’ve been homeless, bounced around between boarding houses, hotels and other crisis accommodation. They did three different two-week placements at Perth’s Beatty Lodge, and a few hotel stays – some of which cost Jannah $130 a night, a huge portion of her income support payments. They lived in a share house for a while but that didn’t work out. Jannah says that if she had a car, they would have slept in it. Jannah and Dakota were able to get help in the short term, from emergency housing providers, but when it came to secure long-term accommodation, there was just nowhere to go; there were no suitable rentals available, no social housing.

06 AUG 2021

by Melissa Fulton Deputy Editor

Meanwhile, back at Jannah and Dakota’s place, they’ve been sleeping better, getting up early and starting to build a routine, alive to all the simple pleasures that come with a stable home. “It’s so good to cook a meal again!” says Jannah. “Like last night, I could use an oven instead of a fry pan.” She made Dakota’s favourite Dino snacks. “I’m looking forward to stability, getting back on track. Hopefully we can get some pets here – Dakota’s asked our Salvation Army caseworker if we can get a chicken coop and some chickens.” Dakota’s recovering well and is happy to be back at school, and Jannah’s looking forward to getting back to her studies too – she’s working towards Certificate III in Social Work, Community Services and Domestic and Family Violence. “This is for real now,” says Jannah. “I’ve got my little humble home. A place to call home, I call it.” * Name changed.

06 AUG 2021

It’s clear, Australia’s housing system isn’t working for everyone. With real-estate prices soaring to record highs, it’s locking people out of home ownership. Just 50 per cent of households aged 25-55 are expected to own a home by 2040, compared to 60 per cent in 1981, according to the Australian Housing and Urban Research Institute. For young people, the news is even worse: for those in the 25-to-34 bracket, home ownership dropped by 28 per cent between 2002 and 2015, to around 45 per cent.

“We’re seeing a wealth-creation event for the haves who can afford to buy another property at the moment,” says Jenny Smith. “But for people on low incomes, it’s a difference between being able to just put a roof over your head, and not.” With more than a third of us now renting, demand has meant rental properties are less affordable than ever. Across the country, the median rent of houses and units has increased 6.6 per cent over the last 12 months. In regional areas, it’s even more extreme: rents have surged by 11.3 per cent – the biggest hike on record – as tree-changers flee the city during the pandemic. In Perth, where Jannah and her daughter live, the median rent jumped 16.7 per cent. It’s perhaps unsurprising that Anglicare Australia’s latest Rental Affordability Snapshot found that of the 74,226 rental listings across the country on a given weekend in March, only three were affordable for a single person on JobSeeker ($620.80 per fortnight). For those on Youth Allowance ($512.50 per fortnight), there were none. Without more affordable homes, the options are limited for those struggling to afford private rents. Over 1.5 million Australians are living with housing stress, stretched by rent or mortgage payments totalling more than 30 per cent of their income. It’s why housing bodies and homelessness providers are calling on all levels of government to invest in affordable and social housing to meet the shortfall of 600,000 homes needed to satisfy national demand. “[Social housing] is an asset to the community and it provides jobs,” adds Smith. “Providing social housing and increasing the JobSeeker payment [means] people can live, and we’re not all just bouncing people around temporary outcomes.” The pandemic has prompted governments to consider long-term housing solutions. At the end of last year, the Victorian state government announced its $5.3 billion “Big Housing Build”, which aims to create 12,000 homes in four years, with 9300 of these being social housing. New South Wales has allocated $812 million to social housing and homelessness services, including a pledge to build 800 social housing dwellings.

“I sleep where I work – right out the front of 7-Eleven,” says Big Issue vendor Nathan from Brisbane. “As a homeless person, male or female, it’s safety first. And because I work there as well during the day, it’s a lot more plausible for me to actually sleep there. Because you never know, someone might actually turn up and say ‘Hey, I’ve got a room available here. You can stay here, or here’s a feed.’ It’s little things.” When I call Nathan, he’s just checked into a hotel room. They charge a weekly rate of $300 a room, and he springs for it when he can. He’s been on the waiting list for social housing for 10-plus years. In that time, he’s slept rough, on couches, and in a boarding house. When Brisbane locked down earlier this year, he was put up in a hotel by Micah Projects, but when lockdown finished, he no longer had a roof over his head, and he was back to sleeping on his pitch. “It’s more stressful than anything else, you know?” says Nathan of living homeless. “And when you’re stressed out like that, and you’re trying to get a place, it does take it out of you – you’re exhausted.”

series by David Wadelton

The Big Picture 20

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Minding Their Business

Sila Espresso on Melbourne’s Brunswick Street was established in 1954 by Pasquale Zampogna. His son Dominic now runs the cafe.

For Melbourne photographer David Wadelton, capturing the soul of these small businesses is a race against time. by Melissa Fulton Deputy Editor

FOR MORE, VISIT WADELTON.ONLINE OR THE NORTHCOTE HYSTERICAL SOCIETY FACEBOOK GROUP.

06 AUG 2021

here’s just this whole class of businesses that are vanishing, and I feel this urgent responsibility to record them while I can,” says photographer David Wadelton of his Small Business project. It started back in 1975, when Wadelton moved to Northcote in Melbourne’s northern suburbs. He lived across the road from Dot’s newsagency, which he used to visit every day. Back then you could not only buy the paper, but also books and lollies, and even records, from Dot. They’d have a chat and a laugh; she’d tell him stories about the 60s pop star Normie Rowe, who grew up down the street. One day, a thought occurred to him: “I was like, It’s amazing she’s still there. She’s really old now, in her eighties.” He asked if he could take her photo. It wasn’t something he was typically doing at the time. “I wasn’t sure if she’d chase me out of the shop or what,” he remembers with a laugh, “but she was friendly and chatty.” Around the same time, while waiting around for his dim sims to come out of the fryer, he felt compelled to capture the splendour of his local fish’n’chip shop, with its original 1950s interior and illuminated fibreglass shark. Owners Jim and Pam were getting into their retirement years and Wadelton had that same thought: This just can’t last forever. And so Small Business was born – although Wadelton didn’t know it at first. “At the time I was just taking photos of the local area. It wasn’t until I revisited those old film negatives around 2010 that I realised how much of the world had changed,” he reflects. “This is something that comes with age: the awareness of things passing and changing comes with the years.” These days, however, the project – which he describes as “a kind of time capsule” – is a more deliberate affair. Wadelton pores over Google Maps and Street View for potential businesses around the country to capture and preserve, and gets tipoffs about local gems through his social media accounts. He never leaves his house without a camera, just in case. And when he does find a new small business, he notes its GPS coordinates so that he can check on how it’s going later on. With a heavy heart, Wadelton explains that maybe a third of the businesses he has included in his new book have since closed – and that COVID has only made things worse. “I always get a little surprise or a little shock when I notice they’re boarded up,” he says. “It’s inevitable. And we all knew when I was doing the project that this would happen, but it’s still quite a surprise when it actually does.” So what does he hope to achieve with the photos? “I like to share them and I like them to be on the public record,” he says. “I want the experience of looking at them to be like walking into the shop itself and seeing everything all at once.”

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Ready to set your perm: Maria’s Continental Hair Stylist in Preston, Melbourne.

The iconic interior of Niagara Cafe, Gundagai, NSW, established in 1902. Fun fact: Prime Minister John Curtin once ate a midnight meal of steak and eggs here.

The fibreglass shark watches over Jim’s Fish’n’Chips in Northcote, Melbourne.

Check the COVID-safe witch’s hats at Robert Cox Motors in Maldon, Vic – they’re maybe the only hint that we’re living in the now.

06 AUG 2021

Golden Tower Restaurant, Swanston Street, Melbourne, closed in 2016 after 63 years.

Sometimes you need to take a long walk. Graeme Simsion and Anne Buist test the limits of that advice on the Camino.

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e’re in sight of Scoffera when the rain comes down, hard, turning the steep downhill track into a muddy obstacle course. By the time we’ve connected with the road into town, our “waterproof” pants, jackets and shoes are soaked through, and there’s no sign of the hostel where we plan to spend the night. It’s Sunday afternoon, the main street empty except for a woman

standing in a doorway, watching us. The wind is picking up. We’re on Day 37 of a walk from central France to Rome. Less than halfway. Why are we doing this? A hard-earned glass of red, a blazing fire and a hot meal (or in summer a chilled rosé as we watch the setting sun) is part of the answer. Though in down-at-heel Liguria, it’s more likely to be pasta with a can of tomatoes and frizzante wine in an unheated kitchen. Something else keeps us going. This is our third walk of over 1600 kilometres – 1000 miles. The first was in 2011. We were hunkered down in a French village on long-service leave: in need of rest, reflection and renewal. One day, we spotted a scallop-shell symbol fixed to a lamp post and discovered that it was a waymark for the famous pilgrims’ walk to western Spain: the Camino de Santiago. We knew a few people who’d “done” the 800-kilometre Camino, beginning in St Jean Pied de Port on the French-Spanish border, more than a thousand kilometres from where we were staying. But there are many routes to Santiago, and all over Europe are scallopshell signs: follow them, and you’ll be walking, more or less, in the footsteps of the medieval pilgrims who couldn’t take a bus to the border. It’s a romantic notion and we decided we’d have a taste of it by attempting the two-week first stage to Le Puy, where several trails meet. So, as uncounted pilgrims have done since the ninth century, we packed a change of clothes, walked out our door, and headed in the direction of Santiago. In February. There would be snow on the ground and

illustration by Annie Davidson

Stepping Out

Anne Buist is chair of Women’s Health at the University of Melbourne, and a writer of psychological thrillers. Graeme Simsion is the author of The Rosie Project series. They live (and sometimes write) together in Melbourne: Two Steps Forward was an international bestseller; their latest is the sequel Two Steps Onward. graemesimsion.com

annebuist.com

06 AUG 2021

When you set out to walk hundreds or thousands of kilometres you can’t think about the end – it’s too far off. It has to be one day at a time.

to collect them but to begin walking “forever”. The sense of freedom, of carrying all you needed on your back, spoke to me at the time, and even more strongly as we set out on that first long walk. I still feel it as a yearning when I spot a scallop-shell sign in some village or on the road. It’s what’s made me want to walk again. Often, we were alone all day, in places that no motorist was likely to see – and if they did, they’d see them differently. In Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, Robert M Pirsig talks about the difference between observing from a car and being on a motorbike, out in the environment. Walking gives you that too, at a gentler pace. The trails take you places you’d not visit otherwise. That rainy Ligurian town isn’t on any must-see lists and our accommodation wouldn’t rate on an online booking site. But our expectations are different and so is our state of mind…we’re not stressed or fussy. There’s that same motorcycle sense of being part of the world we’re travelling through, rather than tourists being served by it. For someone who spends a lot of time in his head, walking was a form of forced mindfulness. I’d expected to spend the time reflecting, imagining a new novel, making plans. But if I didn’t want to trip over or get lost, I needed to be in touch with my surroundings. I watched winter turn to spring, day by day, and realised I’d never done it before. Anne and I had time together – a lot of it. It was a test and a validation of our relationship, and a reminder of the importance of planning and doing things together. We researched our books Two Steps Forward and Two Steps Onward on walks but didn’t write much. Like a meditation exercise, the walk is simple, but consuming. We found the hostel in Scoffera – the owner was the woman in the doorway, waiting for us – and reached Rome in March 2020. COVID was spreading from Lombardy and would chase us to Melbourne. The silver lining: over six months of lockdown, one of the legitimate reasons to leave home was exercise. We could walk.

in the air. We would find that much of the accommodation in our photocopied guide was closed. We would meet only one other walker. But there was always a scallop shell to guide us and an affordable room, food and wine to sustain us. When we reached Le Puy, we decided to keep going as long as our feet and resolve held out. And after 87 days and 2038 kilometres of walking, we arrived in Santiago. What did we take from three months of doing nothing much besides putting one foot in front of the other? Why are we doing it again? It’s not a question we can answer with one voice. So, Anne: Getting fit, and in touch with my body again, was really important. Three weeks into the first Camino, my bunions started giving me grief and I needed to take breaks more and more frequently; for a while I feared I’d have to stop altogether. Two weeks later, they stopped hurting, and 10 years later they still don’t hurt. Knees and ankles were always better the next morning, though we saw walkers much younger than us crippled by blisters. I think we’ll be able to walk for many years to come – a sustaining thought as we grow older. The walks reconnect me with nature; snow whirling around me on Day 11 of the Camino transported me to fairyland and reminded me I was only a tiny speck of a much greater whole. There were David Attenborough moments when I saw the first bud in spring or watched a green snake take a frog larger than it was. The longer walks bring something more: lessons that have stayed with me. We travel light – very light – and you’re reminded that “stuff” is so unimportant. I’ve learned that when you set out to walk hundreds or thousands of kilometres you can’t think about the end – it’s too far off. It has to be one day at a time. It’s a hugely important lesson that has served me well: from writing novels to enduring COVID lockdowns without end dates. Walking is also healing; many people walk the Camino to grieve or to reassess their life. I hadn’t realised until near the end of my first long walk that the loss of a patient had been why I had needed the timeout – and the walk. Before I left I hadn’t been able to mention her name without crying. The hours of walking each day, and the distance from everything else, gave me time to reflect and to put this and other problems into perspective. ...and Graeme: In Carol Shields’ The Stone Diaries, a character has shipped all his belongings from Canada to England: on a whim he decides not

Ricky

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Nice one – that’s exactly what we need right now, signs of society unravelling around us.

by Ricky French @frenchricky

Twisties and Shout

very night before going to bed, and every morning after waking up, our son gives Mum and Dad a kiss on the cheek. If there’s one thing humans crave, it’s stability, a routine. Day after day, year after year, my dad would put a packet of Twisties in his esky to take to work at the construction site. He told me once he didn’t really like Twisties any more, then added, “But I’m a creature of habit.” We all are that creature, to some degree, which is why this pandemic is such a grind. The life we know today is not the life we will know next week, next month or even next year. Lockdowns come and go, we seesaw between catastrophising and optimism, then back again. Good news is followed by bad, which is followed by more uncertainty. Last week I was in Alice Springs, where life remains largely unchanged, and where the streets are busy with travellers from far‑flung cities in four-wheel drives plotting their next move. They are people on the run from restrictions, trying to outmanoeuvre the virus and the lockdowns, chasing some semblance of normality on the road, being herded inland. They are the lucky ones, unshackled to the job or mortgage or rent or family commitments that keep most of us at home. When the trans-Tasman bubble was announced earlier this year, it was a time of celebration for the thousands of Aussies and Kiwis who had loved ones across the ditch. But there was barely a time when the bubble wasn’t at least pricked to some states, opening and closing and opening again, and now finally closing completely until at least late September. I was supposed to be back in New Zealand now, working and visiting family and friends, but instead I’m at home, wondering when I’ll be allowed back to the other side of town. My mum, who lives in New Zealand, has been trying to visit me and my sister for over a year, and had finally booked tickets,

before the Sydney outbreak happened and the world changed again. She still holds out hope, but we all know she’s got Buckley’s chance. I’m a travel writer, and I spent the weekend totalling up the thousands of dollars of income I’ve lost, or am set to lose in the coming months, due to travel restrictions – not to mention the Instagram photos. But I’ll be alright. Many others won’t. JobKeeper is gone, and times are bleak for warehouse workers, casual workers, or anyone not in an industry with a sexy image or a powerful union or a peak body to lobby for government assistance. Not helping matters are the legions of misguided conspiracy theorists and right-wing zealots whipping up gullible Australians to take to the streets to protest violently over the enemies in their heads. Nice one – that’s exactly what we need right now, signs of society unravelling around us. All this nonsense is a symptom of a lack of critical thinking, brought on by a combination of addiction to social media and too much idle time. I’ve always believed the cure for whatever vice you have, whether it be drugs, alcohol or a dependency on garbled, online nonsense, is to be busy, to be working. Maybe that’s what’s feeding the growing insurgency of ignorant activism: lockdown‑induced malaise? Maybe I shouldn’t be so negative. Maybe the world isn’t going to hell in a handbasket on a supermarket panic-buying spree. Maybe the devil is the uncertainty. So let’s take comfort in the things we can count on. Like watching the sunrise, as I did on the summit of Mount Sonder in the West MacDonnell Ranges last week. Sunrise is ever reliable, and so is the thing that was waiting for me when I returned home, and straight back into lockdown: a kiss from my boy.

Ricky French is a writer and musician waiting for the day he can see his mum again.

by Fiona Scott-Norman @fscottnorman

PHOTOS BY JAMES BRAUND

ou know what nobody says ever? “I’ve just spent a few hours online and, gee whillikers, I am refreshed. I can barely contain my optimism! Is that sunshine on my shoulder?” You could argue that no-one says “gee whillikers” either, and given its heyday was the mid-19th century when folk couldn’t bear to go the full Jesus as a swear, you’d be right. But the point remains that even if you spend three hours bingeing adorable cat videos and Stephen Colbert opening monologues, you still come up for air with the emotional bends and bewildering time distortion. It’s a screen hangover, essentially, which I’ve identified as the creeping sensation that your soul was stolen through your eyes, and is doing an exhausted walk of shame back to your body after an electronic night on the town. I am not my best self after hours on my laptop, phone and desktop, which I toggle between for the entirety of my day. No-one is. We are not, physiologically or psychologically, built for this. I’m peeved at the hours I spend interfacing with tech, most definitely including the envy and doomscrolling that is algorithmically demanded of me. Also, after 18 months of teaching online, I’m beginning to shy away from duty like a Shetland pony that has given one too many rides to sticky, ice-cream-licking children. I’m done with it, sitting at a screen, pouring my energy into a void. And yet the lockdowns keep coming, and the university wants “hybrid delivery” “going forward” “whatever that means” “nothing good”. Look, online is fine when it’s part of a balanced diet of living in the actual world, and objectively brilliant for disability access, photographs of Victoria’s CHO Brett Sutton as a young hottie, and doing writing masterclasses with David Sedaris, but we are well past the tipping point of what we can handle and remain chipper. It’s like spending most of the day with our heads shoved inside a Dementor.

We’re all frayed beyond reckoning, and turning on each other online like exhausted toddlers. We’re all shattered, and lockdown – and excess screen time – isn’t going anywhere. There are antidotes, however, so I figured I’d share some mood-elevating alternatives: 1) Procure some chickens. I know, I know, broken record, but they will get you out of the house, ground you, and give you meaningful tasks. My honey and I spent last Saturday night in lockdown inspecting our chickens’ cloacae for mites, and look you’ve got to make your own fun. All this plus eggs, chicken maths and endless entertainment. 2) Bike rides! Tooling around the neighbourhood during my state-sanctioned exercise window made me feel about 12. I think it’s because, as an adult, a bicycle has become a mode of transportation (with the side benefit of gentle cardio), whereas “tooling around” catapults it back into the realm of childhood exploration and adventure. Explore streets you’ve never been down, zip through parks, get off that beaten track, and channel your inner Nicole Kidman from BMX Bandits. 3) Night walks. Ooooh. Spooky stuff. Everything looks different, mysterious and thrilling. Excellent for the soul. 4) Throw yourself in the water. I know I keep banging on about cold-water therapy and wild swimming, but if you can get to a body of water and immerse yourself, holy crap, you know you’re alive. Baths are also good. I just read George Orwell’s Down and Out in Paris and London in the bath, while drinking hot tea and eating Penguin biscuits, and it occurred to me that I hadn’t presented as that English since I emigrated. 5) Read The Big Issue! It’s now available online. Gee whillikers, eh?

Golly gosh! Gee-whizz! It’s writer and comedian Fiona Scott-Norman!

06 AUG 2021

Virtually Reality

I’m beginning to shy away from duty like a Shetland pony that has given one too many rides to sticky, ice-creamlicking children.

Fiona

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Music Ngaiire

by Giselle Au-Nhien Nguyen

Giselle Au-Nhien Nguyen is a VietnameseAustralian writer based in Melbourne.

PHOTO BY DANIEL SEGAL

n 2017, Ngaiire embarked on a project that aimed to demystify her Papua New Guinean culture through research and music. The plan was to clear up misinterpretations of her identity in the largely white-dominated Australian music industry. But as often happens, life and the world changed, and so too did her project. “As time passed, and I had a child and had some really hectic health issues through writing and recording the album, I started to realise that it really isn’t my responsibility to tell people or inform people what a Papua New Guinean, Melanesian, Pacific Black artist is, because you just can’t,” she says. “So now it’s more like, ‘I’m just going to put it all on a platter and go: here, eat it or don’t eat it.’” The soul musician – full name Ngaire Joseph – is speaking from her home in Sydney, wrangling her three-year-old son throughout the conversation. We’re discussing 3, her third album, which emerged from the bones of the Papua New Guinea project. Written over a three-year period of great personal and political transition, and co-produced with Paris-based Aussie Jack Grace (Japanese Wallpaper, Paul Mac), 3 is a defiant and joyful statement from an artist who’s sick of having to justify or explain herself to others. In a powerful mission statement, Ngaiire describes the record as “a collection of love letters to three entities: myself, my country and those I love both here and now departed”. “When I first started, a lot of people would put me in boxes that weren’t really telling them who I was,” she says. “People would put me on stages that were only meant for Indigenous and First Nations

3 IS OUT 27 AUGUST.

06 AUG 2021

Papua New Guinea-born soul singer Ngaiire finds – and redefines – herself on her new album.

Breaking Three

artists, and I’d never really be given a foot into the contemporary stages. When things like that happen over and over again, it starts to wear on you as an artist.” The music industry has wised up to inequality, but it is often a double-edged sword, with representation often feeling like a box-ticking exercise. “I’m filled with so many mixed opinions on the wokeness that is happening now,” Ngaiire says. “I’m so grateful for the opportunities that are arising right now for me and for artists who are people of colour from marginalised backgrounds or communities, but then there’s always that thing in the back of your mind that goes ‘Well, you’re just doing it so that you can save face.’ “It’s basically just signalling that you are creating a diverse space for your advertising campaign or your festival line-up, so there’s always that bittersweet kind of taste. You obviously want to be grateful for the opportunities, but it comes with a lot of trauma attached to it.” Rather than kowtowing to these expectations, Ngaiire is going her own way. Blending elements of electronic, soul, R&B and dance-pop, and driven by Ngaiire’s commanding voice, the songs on 3 span the spectrum of human experience, dissecting themes of “death, love, loss, sex and happiness”. There are moments that are more explicitly political, such as closing track ‘Glitter’, inspired by former Papua New Guinea Prime Minister Peter O’Neill. “The song is to do with him and the lies politicians tell, which everyone can attest to now in these times with COVID,” Ngaiire says. Other moments are personal, such as ‘Shiver’, which pays tribute to the artist’s late aîné (grandmother), and ‘Closer’, prying open the experience of sex and love growing up in post-colonial Papua New Guinea. “I’ve definitely changed as a person, but I view these songs as a timestamp for when they were written,” she says. “When I look back on these songs, it’s like, ‘Oh, I was feeling that kind of way at that point.’” The album is diaristic, but it’s also about letting go and accepting uncertainty, especially with the ever‑present spectre of injustice and in today’s precarious and ever-changing world. Becoming a mother also changed Ngaiire’s outlook. “There’s nothing in the world that will force you to really look at yourself the way having a child will do, and it’s definitely forced me to really stare at myself in the mirror and ask what’s actually worth crying about, what’s actually worth investing in, who’s actually worth investing in,” she says. “What I think this album speaks about is finding who you truly are and celebrating that regardless of what anyone says you have to be. I still struggle to exist within the spaces that I do, but I have more clarity around how to access freedom for myself. You just get better at identifying your weak spots and identifying what to put in place for yourself so you can have a healthier outlook on life.”

Film

Ryusuke Hamaguchi

KOTO NE FU NA KA JI MA RU KA W A AN D AY UM U STAR IN W HE FO RT UN E AN EL D FA NTASY OF

Festival favourite Ryusuke Hamaguchi has two feature films hitting cinemas. Coincidence, or something more?

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by Annabel Brady-Brown Film Editor @annnabelbb

he films of rising arthouse star Ryusuke Hamaguchi are full of eerie accidents and close encounters of the absurd kind. With not one but two prize-winning features playing this year at the Melbourne International Film Festival and the Sydney Film Festival, the prolific, young Japanese writer-director has staked out a peculiar terrain: exploring the Sliding Doors-style moments when life tilts off course, lapsing into realms strange and sublime. The first is the ecstatically titled Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy – a collection of three chatty short stories bundled together into the one light and sparkling film, in which women of different generations find themselves buffeted by the winds of fate. Though the stories appear unconnected, the original Japanese title Gūzen to Sōzō (Coincidence and Imagination) explicitly makes the link. “I have been interested in coincidences in fiction for a long time,” says Hamaguchi, speaking over Zoom from his home in Tokyo with the assistance of a translator. Echoing his past films like Happy Hour (2015) and

PHOTO COURTESY OF NEOPA/FICTIVE

Good Fortune T

Asako I & II (2018) – tales of ghosts, doppelgangers and cases of mistaken identity – Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy sees one heroine stumble upon a love triangle while another mistakenly emails the wrong person. “In fiction, what tends to happen is that it suits the storyteller to have the coincidence,” says Hamaguchi. Instead, he wanted to use the stories as testing grounds, “to work through the ways in which haviang coincidences didn’t evoke that sense that the author is not really doing their job properly… In a sense, I wanted the coincidence to bring out what is possible in human relationships in a different way.” This feeling of latent possibility in even the most mundane daily interactions electrifies the drama – nodding to spirited French New Wave filmmakers like Jacques Rivette and Éric Rohmer, whose 1995 triptych Rendez-vous in Paris was an influence – as it slides imperceptibly into make-believe worlds. “When you take on the subject of coincidences, you land yourself on the borderline between fantasy and reality,” he says.

WHEEL OF FORTUNE AND FANTASY AND DRIVE MY CAR SCREEN AT THE MELBOURNE INTERNATIONAL FILM FESTIVAL AND THE SYDNEY FILM FESTIVAL – FULL PROGRAM ANNOUNCED SOON.

06 AUG 2021

RYUSUKE HAMAGUCHI

When you take on the subject of coincidences, you land yourself on the borderline between fantasy and reality.

For some, art offers ways to escape reality, but for Hamaguchi such playfulness is a deeply serious matter. “I don’t feel strongly that reality is a very solid thing that we inhabit in our day-to-day life… that it is so set, that it’s going to be roughly the same one day and the next. From this afternoon you could be doing something completely different as a result of something that happens to you,” he says. “This is reflected in my films, I think.” Across the globe, unpredictability and surreality have defined the last 18 months, thanks to COVID-19. For Hamaguchi, the pandemic affected the production of Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy; the first two stories were shot in 2019, but the final story was shot using socially distanced crews last year, after the Japanese government declared a state of emergency. A sci-fi-inflected scenario in which a woman seems to randomly bump into a desperately missed old friend on the street, it captures the overwhelming emotions that many feel when reconnecting with loved ones – even though the script was written in a pre-pandemic world. “Ninety per cent of it had to do with the emotional hunger that [the two women] had for one another, so I didn’t really want to change anything… What I did not anticipate was that we would be living under these conditions in such a way that, when they have that moment, it would affect the audience in the way that it does. That part of the film, the way it plays to us today is totally surprising. And really, maybe that’s a coincidence as well.” The film was rapturously received at this year’s Berlin International Film Festival – an event that happened virtually – where it won the Silver Bear. Hamaguchi’s more traditional new feature, Drive My Car, was even more significantly affected: the shoot was delayed by eight months, and the majority of the story was forced to relocate from Busan, South Korea to somewhere closer to home: Hiroshima, the Japanese city still haunted by the memory of the atomic bomb. A melodramatic epic that clings to a grief-stricken widower, his aloof chauffeur and one beautiful red Saab 900 Turbo, Drive My Car is a sensuous adaptation of a 2014 short story by Haruki Murakami, perhaps Japan’s best-known living writer, and was awarded Best Screenplay at Cannes Film Festival last month. In this film, too, characters’ lives are decided by freakish interventions, including a landslide, a cold snap in Russia that grounds an aeroplane in Japan, and a car that runs out of petrol, fortuitously determining the heroine’s new home. “The films have different origins, but because they were made very close in time, the thinking of one goes into the other,” Hamaguchi says. “It’s such a delight to have these films presented [in Australia] in such a way that people can see both.”

Body of Work by Kirsten Krauth

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Books

Tilly Lawless

@almost.a.mirror

Kirsten Krauth is the author of novel Almost a Mirror. Her podcast of the same name, about 1980s pop and post‑punk music, will be released this month.

ork makes me feel normal,” says author Tilly Lawless. “It’s become escapism, when it used to be what I needed to escape from. I can’t tell if there’s a real irony or serendipity in that.” A self-described “country girl” who grew up in the Hunter Valley and Bellingen, NSW, Lawless took on sex work when she moved to the city to study a Bachelor of Arts at the University of Sydney, for which she received a scholarship. She’s since become an advocate for the industry, for feminism and for the queer community, using social media to shine a light on the everyday stigmas sex workers face – her 2017 TEDx talk has clocked more than 66,000 views. Lawless’ debut novel Nothing But My Body explores the rapidly changing world of a nameless queer sex worker in Sydney as she negotiates the new rules of COVID; the shifting boundaries with clients, lovers and friends; and the push and pull of rural and city life. Told in a quick-fire expression of love, lust and yearning for a better world, the writing is vivid, taking the reader from brothel rooms, to laid-back northern New South Wales retreats, to Mardi Gras dance parties. On the phone from her house in Sydney, Lawless is upbeat, even though it’s mid-lockdown. For her, this one’s been easier than the last: less financially desperate because she’s taken on some paid writing work. With sex work banned under COVID, Lawless used last year’s lockdown to finish her manuscript. “I just forced myself to put aside the time each day…the same number of hours that I would spend in a brothel in a week,” she says. After six months (and many years worth of notes), she had a fully fledged novel. While the words are both sexy and sad, eye-opening and occasionally even filthy, Nothing But My Body is highly literary. In our conversation, Lawless scatters literary allusions everywhere – she cites Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf as an influence, as well as City of Night,

Mexican-American writer John Rechy’s landmark 1963 novel of gay street life. Lawless’ Instagram community also shaped Nothing’s structure and style. She noticed her followers were most responsive to “things that were really immediate…written in present tense, first-person, where they felt like they were in that moment with me, very emotions-based”. For Lawless, writing is always cathartic. “I often like to joke to friends that I’m not over something till I’ve written about it,” she says. What comes across is her careful negotiation of tricky boundaries – between her writing self and the central character in the book, her ethics and revelation, the women whose stories she hides versus the clients whose stories she doesn’t. “I really do feel very protective of the women I work with. And so I didn’t go into their lives,” she reflects. “Whereas often the client who comes and goes…I don’t know his name. I never see him again.” Despite the book’s title, its focus is more on mind‑loops than the body: how the cyclical nature of our thoughts can imprison or release us. This exploration offers not just a clever shift in the power dynamics at play, but also a great deal of humour too. While the women sex workers are careful to only use their persona names in the public sphere for their own security – “I’ve known workers who had their children taken off them because they’re a sex worker,” says Lawless – male clients often use fake names as part of their fantasy creation. “In my phone I have so many Davids. And it’s like Annoying David, Big Dick David, Nice David, Dr David,” she says. When I ask her if it’s okay to put “David” in the article or if it’s crossing some kind of line, we both laugh. “I don’t think any of them are going to read it and be like, ‘Oh, my God, am I Annoying David?’” she says. The sex scenes are particularly vivid, occasionally brutal, offering a unique insight into the frailties of men from the perspective of a character whose thoughts wander into other realms altogether, often obsessing about her women lovers and their bodies, rather than the ones right in front of her. Given Lawless’ background, the novel inevitably raises questions about the murky line between novel and memoir, but she is clear that the situations and the characters are fictionalised, amalgams of the various clients, friends and lovers

PHOTO BY CHLOE NOUR

Potent, immediate and highly literary, Tilly Lawless’ debut novel follows a queer sex worker at the onset of the pandemic.

NOTHING BUT MY BODY BY TILLY LAWLESS IS OUT NOW.

06 AUG 2021

of her past, and that the real point of her novel is not sex work but queer community and connection. “I think sex workers are forced into the same genre again and again,” she says. “And a lot of marginalised people…[readers] want to only accept them in memoir form: they want and like it because it’s real, but they can’t recognise the literary value of those people outside of their identity.” While Lawless would one day love to go back to live in Bellingen – a highlight of the book is the descriptions of the lush landscape around her hometown – she is fixed in Sydney, a place she returns to for her friendships and strong “queer community that feels organic”. It is this culture that frames and scaffolds the novel and offers up an exciting new voice in Australian fiction.

Film Reviews

Annabel Brady-Brown Film Editor @annnabelbb

ith lockdowns around the country restricting travel and changing the situation on the ground in the blink of an eye, many will be thankful that this year’s Melbourne International Film Festival includes a virtual component, with ticketed sessions streaming nationally (5-22 August). Among the gems, there’s a notably rich Asian cinema strand: Wife of a Spy is a classically styled drama of deception, set on the eve of WWII, from cult Japanese filmmaker Kiyoshi Kurusawa; Days is an aching urban romance from Taiwanese slow cinema maestro Tsai Ming-liang, starring his forever muse Lee Kang-sheng, seeking companionship in Bangkok; and Pickpocket (1997) is the rascally feature debut that launched visionary director Jia Zhangke, relocating Robert Bresson’s 1959 portrait of alienation and anomie to the Chinese town of Fenyang. (Also unmissable in the retro program: Laura Dern’s debut lead role as a rebellious teen in Joyce Chopra’s 1985 coming-of-age tale, Smooth Talk.) Meanwhile, highlights of the documentary slate include Sisters With Transistors, Lisa Rovner’s zippy survey of the unsung women pioneers of electronic music; The Inheritance, Ephraim Asili’s warm mash-up of radical collective politics and 60s pop art; and The Witches of the Orient, the latest from archive wiz Julien Faraut, responsible for the John McEnroe doc In the Realm of Perfection (2018). This time round, the sport in focus is volleyball, and the mercurial stars are the 1964 Japanese women’s Olympic team. ABB

SMOOTH OPERATORS LAURA DERN AND TREAT WILLIAMS

OLD 

Every new M Night Shyamalan film comes with a certain set of expectations. Following the pattern laid down in the writer-director’s breakout hit The Sixth Sense (1999), there will invariably be a healthy dose of suspense, a director cameo and, famously, a twist ending. Drawing comparisons to Spielberg, his work is marked by a sincere dedication to narrative and an almost childlike sense of wonder. Old is a tropical departure from Shyamalan’s usual chilly Philadelphia setting. “This is much better than Cancún,” Prisca (Vicky Krieps) enthuses to her husband Guy (Gael García Bernal) as they arrive at a luxe resort with their two children, eager for a relaxing family vacation. Shuttled off for a day trip to a secluded cove with a small group of fellow guests, this vision of paradise swiftly shatters. A dead body is found, and the children seem to age years in mere minutes. As the surreal mysteries of Shyamalan’s beach unfold, a rare, thrilling kind of movie joy erupts. JESSICA ELLICOTT SOME KIND OF HEAVEN

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Lance Oppenheim’s debut feature documentary is as surreal as its subject. From balletic lines of synchronised swimmers to dance classes captured in eerie slow zooms, Some Kind of Heaven uses meticulously crafted shots to emphasise the uncanny atmosphere of the USA’s largest retirement community, The Villages in Central Florida, home to more than 130,000 seniors. At times, the film feels like a unique work of fiction – not unlike the community itself, which is marketed to retirees as a self-contained paradise. But loneliness lurks beneath the utopian image. The film focuses on four residents: Dennis, a van-dwelling bachelor; Anne and Reggie, a couple struggling with his deteriorating mental state; and Barbara, a widow looking for love. She is one of the few to admit The Villages isn’t “the fantasy land” she’d imagined. Oppenheim recognises the humanity of his subjects with a level of empathy and interest rarely afforded to the elderly, though one wonders why he focuses only on The Villages’ white residents. IVANA BREHAS

SHIVA BABY 

This supremely squirmy, closely observed black comedy began to pick up praise on the festival circuit when writer-director Emma Seligman was just a few years older than her protagonist, Danielle – a snotty but insecure New York undergrad (deadpan alt-comedian Rachel Sennott). Seligman’s feature debut transforms the shiva (Jewish wake) for a family acquaintance into a social minefield: thrown unexpectedly into the company of her ex‑girlfriend (Molly Gordon) and current sugar daddy (Danny Deferrari), alongside her oblivious parents (the excellent Fred Melamed and Polly Draper), Danielle struggles to keep her different, tenuously constructed personae from collapsing in on one another. Each new interrogation deflected, she retreats to the buffet table to listlessly load and unload her plate. Sennott brings vulnerability and vicious comic timing to the role. Seligman, for her part, shows deep empathy for her heroine, even as she subjects her to the millennial horrors of the gossipy gathering. KEVA YORK

Small Screen Reviews

Aimee Knight Small Screens Editor @siraimeeknight

PLAYING WITH SHARKS: THE VALERIE TAYLOR STORY  | DISNEY+

MR CORMAN

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 | APPLE TV+

The best period pieces are often critical or satirical takes on society. This three-part adaptation of Nancy Mitford’s novel The Pursuit of Love certainly proves why the eccentric Mitford family fascinates to this day. Actor Emily Mortimer (The Newsroom) writes and directs, and her love and affection for the source material – in which the eldest Mitford sibling satirises her family, and particularly her sisters’ marriages – is palpable. Our narrator Fanny (Emily Beecham, Cruella) is cousin and best friend to the impulsive Linda Radlett (Lily James, Downton Abbey), whose pursuit of love is the story’s focus. Beecham shines despite the wallflower nature of her role, grounding the series as the rest of the cast ham it up. James lacks the gravitas to convey Mortimer’s empathetic take on the flighty Linda, which is a shame, as she’s the lead. The use of contemporary music, particularly New Order’s ‘Ceremony’, draws obvious comparisons to Sofia Coppola, but Mortimer’s vision feels uniquely her own. For all period drama fans, this is a delightful romp that never feels too indulgent. NATALIE NG

Millennial blues are at the forefront of Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s return to the small screen. The actor, who grew up on the sitcom 3rd Rock from the Sun, here juggles multiple hats: creator, writer, occasional director, and star, playing titular character Joshua Corman. An anxious fifth grade teacher with a broken heart, failed rockstar dreams and a goofy roommate (Broad City’s Arturo Castro), he’s a victim of his own actions, and a jaded witness to the dilemmas of those closest to him. Scenarios intended to play as dramedy – like depending on distant friends for prescription drugs to avoid dealing with the US healthcare system – in practice feel plain corny, hitting you over the head with subtext and faux relatability. However, for every few swings and misses, there’s a heartfelt moment or clever idea that grabs attention, only to suffer from being too far and few between. Mr Corman awkwardly assembles the pieces of what could have been compelling television, leaving much to be desired from its themes, characters and puzzling lyrical subplots. BRUCE KOUSSABA

n ABC TV’s new factual series Back to Nature, co-hosts Aaron Pedersen and Holly Ringland are but conduits for the show’s true lead: Country. An Arrernte and Arabana man, Pedersen is best known as an actor, having starred in both the big and small screen iterations of Mystery Road. Here he continues his side gig in presenting, joined by author Ringland (The Lost Flowers of Alice Hart) and a swag of special guests who all share their own connections to this country’s natural spaces. Anecdotes run the gamut from scientific to spiritual, magnetic to inexplicable, but they are invariably moving and full of beauty. The show is something of a homecoming for Ringland, who grew up close to the Gondwanan rainforests of Springbrook National Park. This lush bit of Yugambeh Country near the Gold Coast is showcased in the first episode through spectacular cinematography and compelling oral storytelling. In episode three, ‘Giant’s Country’, the hosts venture to my neck of the woods in South Australia, exploring the undulating landscapes of Kaurna, Peramangk and Ngarrindjeri Country. They even visit Morialta Falls, where I was tickled to see my first superb fairywren on a visit a few weeks back. Each of the eight episodes features a ‘Connect and Share’ moment, nudging us to delightful action – observing birdsong, photographing a flower – plus a recipe to stimulate the senses. Based on Finnish series Metsien kätkemä, this isn’t “slow TV” per se, but it is gentle, joyous and medicinal. It premieres 10 August on ABC TV and iview. AK

06 AUG 2021

THE PURSUIT OF LOVE

FORCES OF NATURE: AARON PEDERSEN AND HOLLY RINGLAND

After a premiere at Sundance Film Festival, Sally Aitken’s Playing With Sharks has been acquired by National Geographic. The documentary chronicles the life of Australian deep-sea diver Valerie Taylor as she oscillates between ambition and redemption. After making her subaquatic debut on the competitive spearfishing scene, Valerie loses her appetite for the kill and turns to shooting the underwater world with cameras. This leads Valerie and husband Ron Taylor to work on films like Jaws (1975), which provoked unprecedented shark culls, resulting in Valerie devoting her life to conservation. Playing With Sharks gives audiences plenty to chew on as the Taylors’ career trajectory rises in tandem with the evolution of underwater photography. We see Ron using antiquated tools of the trade, then cut to the incredible footage he shot. With less bravado than the likes of Steve Irwin, Valerie is a likeable lead and Ron’s footage of her showcases the extraterrestrial quality of life below sea level. AMANDA BARBOUR

Music Reviews

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his winter, I’ve been looking for music that will soothe, and found it in a number of female folk albums – the kind that were met with a muted response at the time of their release, but have since become sought-after cult records, rebooting the artists’ careers after decades of obscurity. The first is Vashti Bunyan’s Just Another Diamond Day (1970), which was written while Bunyan and her then boyfriend travelled by horse and cart to an archipelago off the coast of Scotland, where her friend (the Scottish singer Donovan) was setting up a commune. The album is angelic, filled with hushed, heavenly vocals and songs that tap into nature’s mythic capabilities. Another album released in 1970 is Linda Perhacs’ Parallelograms. A dental hygienist in Beverly Hills who wrote songs in her spare time, the singer was discovered by one of her clients (film composer Leonard Rosenman), who helped Perhacs record her debut album. Parallelograms is a delicate folk record that routinely slips into transcendent psychedelia. This is most present in the astonishing title track, an ethereal acoustic song that transforms into a surreal experiment in haunting echo. Sister duo Wendy & Bonnie’s only album Genesis (1969) is an unsung gem of 60s folk and soft rock. The teenage children of two professional musicians, their album contains simple, stripped-back arrangements that centre the sisters’ lush harmonies. Their best track is the languid ‘By the Sea’, which could almost be a lullaby. IT

LK ON U R F OI B U N YA N G E T YO SHT A V H W IT

Isabella Trimboli Music Editor @itrimboli

YVES TUMOR THE ASYMPTOTICAL WORLD 

American experimentalist Yves Tumor’s surprise six-song release The Asymptotical World certainly embodies its title. The EP sees the artist marry Heaven to a Tortured Mind’s (2020) psychedelic glam rock with Safe in the Hands of Love’s (2018) dark ambience, creating a murky mix of postpunk, avant-pop and grunge rock. Whether it’s pining over an old flame in ‘Jackie’ (“These days have been tragic/I ain’t sleeping/Refuse to eat a thing”) or the self-defeating egoism of ‘Katrina’ (“So what’s the point?/Why bother?/I have shit memory too”), this album – thanks to the life-altering events of 2020 – plummets to an all-too-familiar feeling of despondency. The EP swings between hope and nostalgia, best revealed in the cheery carelessness of ‘Crushed Velvet’ (“Grew up selfless/So I could make it to heaven/I feel my best when/I’m dressed in all crushed velvet”). The Asymptotical World sees Tumor stepping further towards music’s edge. OLIVIA BENNETT

WILLOW LATELY I FEEL EVERYTHING

CLAIRO SLING

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Ever the musical chameleon, Willow Smith (performing under the name WILLOW) returns with her first solo record in four years, the pop-punk inspired lately I feel EVERYTHING. Entering the music scene in 2010 with the effortlessly catchy single ‘Whip My Hair’, Smith has slowly moved away from the upbeat hyper-pop of her teen years. Bringing on board early-2000s icons such as Travis Barker and Avril Lavigne, lately I feel EVERYTHING seems to be interested in exploring one thing and one thing only: the angst of early pop-punk. Though clearly the work of someone with a sincere admiration for the genre, unfortunately much of the record cannot help but read like middling pastiche. Smith’s vocal range lends itself to a more exploratory sound than pop-punk can offer, and it is telling that many of the highlights here are the ones that stray furthest from the four-chord structure. Though admirably vulnerable at times, one can’t help but wonder what a less affected version of this record might sound like.

At age 22, Clairo has traversed more sonic ground than some entire discographies: the lo-fi internet pop of viral breakout ‘Pretty Girl’, the percussive indie rock of debut album Immunity (2019), and a few clever, genrehopping collaborations in between. Sling marks another shift – slipping into the singersongwriter cosplay of Joni Mitchell and Carole King, all jangly pianos and wispy harmonies. If Clairo’s previous work occupied intimate spaces – dancing in bedrooms, sensing an exlover’s presence in an apartment – then Sling ventures outwards, into the woods of upstate New York where she now resides. Here is the locus of fear and frustration as Clairo diarises tales of industry exploitation (‘Blouse’), musings on motherhood (‘Management’) and existential epiphanies (standout ‘Amoeba’) – often in a tone so hushed it can feel like her only audience is herself. Throughout, she invites a leap of faith in moments where the tempo jitters back and forth, instruments crackling with anachronistic production. This is a world of Clairo’s creation and, finally, one she wholly owns. MICHAEL SUN

LUKE MCCARTHY

Book Reviews

here’s nothing more soothing than being read to. Remember being little, sitting cross-legged on the classroom floor and drinking in a story? Heaven. Lately, I’ve been thinking that I’d like to get good at reading aloud. And because it’s winter and it’s nice to try new things but also comforting to revisit old favourites, I just reread Maggie Nelson’s The Argonauts (2015). It’s an extraordinary memoir that resists summary, but is maybe best described as a love letter to her partner Harry Dodge and the splendour and difficulty of making a life with someone. This time, I read it aloud to my partner, a few pages a night before bed. There was room to enjoy the texture of the writing, to pause and unspool ideas, to connect them to our lives. Nelson’s voice is so nimble and honest; it was like she was in the room with us. Soon, she will be! Kind of – she’s joined the line-up of next month’s Melbourne Writers Festival, which runs from 3-12 September. If you’re short of a personal orator, the next best thing might be The New Yorker’s Fiction Podcast, where famous authors pore over the mag’s archives, select a story they admire, read it aloud and discuss it. From Ottessa Moshfegh reading Sheila Heti to Dave Eggers on Sam Shepard and Etgar Keret on Janet Frame, there’s something here for everyone. Plus, you get to experience the ASMRish tinkle of fiction editor Deborah Treisman’s intelligent voice. Sometimes, I like to pour myself a drink and stream an episode from the tub – it’s like a bedtime story for grown-ups. And the acoustics are great in there, after all. MF

YO U

THE STORY OF AUSTRALIA DON WATSON

THE GOLDEN BOOK KATE RYAN

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Don Watson first published The Story of Australia in 1984, providing a thoughtful alternative to the stereotypically stuffy history textbook. This updated edition remains comprehensive and, importantly, uncondescending, taking readers of all ages through the country’s winding lifespan. In-depth sections on ancient Australia and Indigenous culture offer a needed corrective to European-dictated history. While surveying the shifts of the past century especially, Watson fluidly spans politics, pop culture, land rights, immigration, war and more in plain, direct language. Illustrations, photos and profiles of prominent figures break things up nicely too. Though Watson is graceful when citing opposing views, he does allow for some personal touches, such as passing poetic flourishes and subtle commentary on technology. Thorough and up-to-the-minute, the book concludes with recent bushfires and COVID-19 while looking ahead to this century’s challenges. It’s open-ended, which will hopefully invite further updates from this refreshing voice. DOUG WALLEN

Kate Ryan’s debut novel The Golden Book is a tightly woven and compelling story about the incorruptibility of childhood friendships, the bitterness of teenage rivalry and the impact of childhood trauma as it unfurls over time. Mostly set in Bega in coastal New South Wales, the story follows Ali when she returns home after the death of her childhood best friend. The story is told over two timelines: one follows Ali as a 12-year-old girl, the other as a young mum with a daughter the same age. The mirroring allows Ryan to investigate the inevitable separation of mother and daughter during adolescence. Ryan reveals Ali’s past with tantalising slowness, expertly interspersing Ali’s adult life with visceral memories from her childhood. The story hinges on the interplay between Ali’s chronic fear of separation and the inevitable changes that come to all relationships over time. The Golden Book is the rare novel you will want to read in one session and not put down.

MUDDY PEOPLE SARA EL SAYED 

Sara El Sayed was born in Alexandria, Egypt, and moved to Australia with her family when she was a child. Her memoir Muddy People shares her experiences growing up as an Egyptian Muslim in Australia – a coming-ofage story that we rarely see published. Rather than writing linearly, El Sayed captures moments in time – an embarrassing toilet mishap, a cat that visits her baba each day, her nana’s lecture about the pointlessness of men – and uses these as touchstones to paint a picture of her life, her family and everything around her. From these stories we see El Sayed’s understanding of her family deepen as she gets older and balances her culture and family expectations with what makes her happy. While each moment in El Sayed’s memoir is charmingly written, at times it felt a bit light to the touch when she could have dived deeper. However, that’s a small criticism of an otherwise tender and insightful story of family, culture, and growing up not knowing exactly where you belong. SARAH MOHAMMED

RAPHAELLE RACE

06 AUG 2021

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Melissa Fulton Deputy Editor

Public Service Announcement

’ve been thinking lately about clutter. You’ll never guess why. Oh, who am I kidding, you’ve probably figured it out. Yes, it’s because I am far too neat and tidy and organised, and don’t keep enough things for far too many years, and nor do I still have notes I passed in class when I was in Year 11. There’s a wonderful musician called Jane Siberry who toured the world for her work. She travelled so much, in fact, that she ended up living out of a suitcase. She described the process of letting go of her possessions until she had just a few photos and a passport in a tiny locker. Then she realised she had committed the photos to memory, so – and maybe I am misremembering this part – she got rid of those too. It’s a very First World problem, of course, the idea of clutter. It speaks to our hedonistic culture that we attach such significance to consumer goods. That we hoard and bulk buy. The other day though, I was asked a question by a child. The question was, “May I interview you please, for school, about an object of importance to you that you would like to keep forever?” Let us set aside for a moment the element of this project that made me feel like a relic of history. Public Service Announcement: things can be lovely. Love your things. Love your favourite cup. The china just thin enough (or thick enough), the handle just right for your fingers. Love the tools of your trade. Love your best drill or your finest fountain pen. Enjoy the way those sewing scissors glide through that material like a hot knife through butter. Love the hand-me-downs. The row of Russian doll sugar and flour and tea canisters that remind you of your grandma every time you enter the kitchen. This suggestion came from my friend C (thanks, C!) but we all have something in our lives that performs the role of the canister. I have a quiche platter that reminds me of a great-aunt and a letter opener that reminds me of how my dad used to stand and talk while slicing envelopes open at the kitchen bench, a cup of tea always within reach, and a little wastepaper basket temporarily relocated to just below where he stood. There’s something about using that letter

opener that makes me feel like my dad, dropping the discarded envelopes in the wastepaper basket, pausing to sip the tea. Enjoy your stationery. Ridiculous, I know, but consumer culture works for a reason. If you’re doing a task you hate, at least give yourself a notebook you enjoy and a couple of snazzy highlighters. Yes, I just used the word “snazzy” and no, I am not surprised I am being asked to assist children with their history projects. Enjoy other people’s things too. Sometimes I find myself, even as I inwardly rage at the mess, smiling fondly at my loved ones’ clothes, abandoned thoughtlessly where they fell from their bodies just before bed, slightly in the shape of them. Telling the story of the day. If you’re a book lover, you probably have to keep a few books. Again, though, I find the ones I would be keeping are rarely just my favourites. They’re the ones I love because of who gave them to me. They’re the ones with someone’s name in the front who isn’t me but who loved me, and who I loved, and who wrote their name in the front of the book in their recognisable handwriting, and maybe made notes in the margin. There is something special about a book that was someone else’s, and is now yours. Like you’re reading two texts: the book, and the story of the book. There’s a crystal pig in my family. I bet even my cousins remember the crystal pig. Tiny, the size of an olive, made of glass actually – pink glass – with a wiggly little tail and two pointy pig ears. As kids, we all used to love that crystal pig. We were never allowed to touch it though. It was Grandma’s pig. It was the most beautiful thing in the world. I now have the crystal pig. It has no ears. It has no tail. Just two eyes. I do not need to protect the crystal pig for future generations because my kids love the crystal pig. Public Service Announcement: things mean what we make them mean. Sometimes a wonky glass oval with two dots on it is a crystal pig. Forever. Enjoy it.

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.

06 AUG 2021

Diamond in the Stuff

by Lorin Clarke @lorinimus

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

Tastes Like Home edited by Anastasia Safioleas

PHOTOS BY CATH MUSCAT

Tastes Like Home Cornersmith

Green Pockets Ingredients Makes 8

Spiced onion (optional) ½ small onion, very finely diced 2 garlic cloves, minced ½ teaspoon ground cumin Pinch freshly cracked black pepper 1 teaspoon salt 2 teaspoons dried herbs, such as oregano, mint or basil

Simple yoghurt dough

Method

Combine the greens and herbs in a bowl. In a separate bowl, combine the cheeses and salt. You can leave the mixture here and it will be yummy and family friendly, but if you want to take it up a notch, it’s worth the extra 5 minutes to make the spiced onion; simply combine the ingredients in a small bowl and set aside. To make the yoghurt dough, combine the oil, vinegar and yoghurt in a bowl and mix well. Sift in the flour and bicarb soda and mix with a wooden spoon until all the ingredients come together to form a dough. Tip out onto a floured work surface and knead for 10 minutes or until very smooth. Divide the dough into eight balls and place under a damp tea towel. Working with one ball of dough at a time, roll the dough into 15cm circles. To assemble, spread 2 tablespoons of the cheese mixture over half of each dough circle (or use Greek pita bread; the thicker, doughy sort) and scatter 2-3 teaspoons of the spiced onion mixture (if using) on top. Add ½ cup of the greens and herb mixture, then fold the dough over to make a semicircle. If using homemade dough, pinch the edges to seal. If using pita, wet your hands and dampen the outside of each pocket and seal as best as you can. Heat the olive oil in a frying pan over medium heat. Working in batches, pan-fry the pockets for 2-3 minutes each side, until golden brown. You can also brush each pocket with olive oil and grill them on the barbecue. Serve with a squeeze of lemon and a salad if you can be bothered, but there’s so many greens inside you hardly need to. Other combinations we like include kale, parsley, feta and chilli flakes; rocket, mint, haloumi and lemon zest or chopped preserved lemon rind; and baby spinach, basil, mozzarella and parmesan.

PLAN TO RECREATE THIS DISH AT HOME? TAG US WITH YOUR CREATION! @BIGISSUEAUSTRALIA #TASTESLIKEHOME

Alex & Jaimee say…

hese green pockets are a sort of homage to our own children when they were all much younger. As friends who have been in each other’s lives for a long time, we remembered when we all used to go to the markets on Sunday mornings and the kids would get gözleme. We would marvel at how they didn’t notice the greens in their favourite snack when there was also cheese and fried dough going on. We both started making this very simple version at home. Greens, cheese and the dough come together to make a quick and very satisfying lunch or dinner. This yoghurt dough is particularly lovely to make – it’s very soft and you don’t need to wait around for it to rest. This was the stuff the kids loved making when they were small. Sure, there was flour everywhere, but whatever, they had fun and seemed to always love dinner more if their little fingers had made their mark. Now they are all big, and this is still a meal they request and help make. Best of all, as they approach young adulthood, they will have this recipe up their sleeve and will be going into the world with more than spag bol or two-minute noodles in their repertoire! ALEX ELLIOTT-HOWERY AND JAIMEE EDWARDS ARE FROM CORNERSMITH – A CAFE, COOKING SCHOOL AND PICKLERY LOCATED IN SYDNEY. THEIR COOKBOOK USE IT ALL IS OUT NOW.

06 AUG 2021

1 tablespoon vegetable oil 1 teaspoon white wine vinegar 1 cup (250g) Greek-style yoghurt 2½ cups (375g) plain flour, plus extra for dusting 1 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda

2 cups (100g) very thinly sliced green leaves – English or baby spinach leaves, silverbeet leaves, kale leaves, rocket ⅓ cup (10g) finely chopped soft herbs – mint, dill, parsley 200g cheese – ricotta, crumbled feta, grated haloumi, grated mozzarella ⅔ cup (70g) grated parmesan ½ teaspoon salt 100ml olive oil Lemon wedges, to serve

Puzzles

ANSWERS PAGE 45.

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

CLUES 5 letters Added photo Eagle claw Holy person Lustre Make up for 6 letters Brackish, briny Breathe Give rise to Sincere Strangers 7 letters Aquatic mammal (2 words) Conspicuous Special phone link 8 letters Clipped feet parts

L O H E N

Sudoku

by websudoku.com

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

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

Puzzle by websudoku.com

Solutions CROSSWORD PAGE 45 ACROSS 1 Orson Welles 7 Sim 9 First 10 Diplomacy

11 Racehorse 12 Niche 13 Amenity 15 Dart 18 Tell 20 Salieri 23 Agora 24 Whetstone 26 Half-truth 27 Adieu 28 Rye 29 Cut-and-paste

DOWN 1 Off break 2 Stricken 3 Notch 4 Elderly 5 Lip‑read 6 Scoundrel 7 Seance 8 Mayhem 14 Inelastic 16 Aerobics 17 Mixed use 19 Lawsuit 20 Stephen 21 Bather 22 Goalie 25 Sharp

20 QUESTIONS PAGE 9 1 Sadiq Khan 2 Confidentiality 3 K 4 Naomi Osaka 5 Newcastle 6 True 7 Denise Richards 8 2017 9 A bear 10 Tayla Harris 11 Patrick White 12 Lombard Street 13 Aaron Burr 14 Vitamin C deficiency 15 South America 16 Cincinnati, Ohio 17 10 18 Vodka 19 Bulgarian 20 14km

06 AUG 2021

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

We know the pretzel as a crisp, salty biscuit in the shape of a knot, but it actually comes to us from the Latin word for “arm”. Over time, the Latin brachium began to be used figuratively to mean the branch of a tree (because branches look a bit like arms). By the 10th century, Latin had added a diminutive form, brachitella “little arms”. Medieval German inherited this form as brezitella, which was then used to name a certain savoury biscuit that looked a lot like…little folded arms! By the early 1800s, the name was shortened to Brezel, which English then borrowed from German. We couldn’t hear the German “B” properly, though, so we’ve been spelling it pretzel ever since.

by Chris Black

Quick Clues

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

18 21

DOWN

Cryptic Clues ACROSS

DOWN

1 Delivery driver faces not working on holiday (3,5) 2 Affected small deception points (8) 3 Score century over championship leaders (5) 4 Old Yeller remade without sad ending? (7) 5 See meaning per dial movement? (3-4) 6 Foolishly scorn duel with rogue (9) 7 Meeting for spirited discussion (6) 8 Might go over border chaos (6) 14 Firm question: is it clean? (9) 16 Vigorous exercises fixed core bias (8) 17 Sue cryptically gets urban planning

convenience? (7)

The Weston (9)

26 Vera likely to mislead? (4-5) 27 Farewell gold-plated roller? (5) 28 Concerning import of unknown grain (3) 29 Updates can’t improve data transfer (3-3-5)

1 Spinning delivery (3,5) 2 Troubled (8) 3 Score (5) 4 Aged (7) 5 Understand speech by looking (3-4) 6 Rogue (9) 7 Meeting with the dead (6) 8 Tumult (6) 14 Rigid (9) 16 Form of exercise (8) 17 Type of zoning (5,3) 19 Legal action (7) 20 Man’s name (7) 21 Swimmer (6) 22 Footballer (6) 25 Astute (5)

Solutions

1 Treated sore and swollen player (5,6) 7 Osmium regularly part of phone (3) 9 Principal heals rifts (5) 10 Foreign affairs changes mad policy (9) 11 Charioteers lost without it? (9) 12 Chronic heckler keeps calling (5) 13 The last word in transforming your earliest 15 Field artillery protecting missile (4) 18 Inform the loyal sides (4) 20 Avant-garde Israeli composer (7) 23 Pythagoras keeps open space (5) 24 Smith might use this to renovate

ACROSS

1 Influential filmmaker (5,6) 7 Type of card (3) 9 Initial (5) 10 Statecraft (9) 11 Competitive animal (9) 12 Recess (5) 13 Facility (7) 15 Small projectile (4) 18 Gambler’s giveaway (4) 20 Composer (7) 23 Ancient assembly area (5) 24 Tool for sharpening (9) 26 Misleading statement (4-5) 27 Goodbye (5) 28 Cereal plant (3) 29 Computer command (3-3-5)

classification (5,3)

19 Spooner noticed stolen goods in case (7) 20 Man to dance with bird (7) 21 Swimmer arranged a berth (6) 22 She’s agile, moving to catch ball (6) 25 Small instrument for cutting (5)

SUDOKU PAGE 43

8 3 4 6 2 5 7 1 9

7 9 1 3 8 4 6 2 5

6 2 5 7 1 9 3 4 8

3 5 7 4 9 1 2 8 6

9 8 6 2 7 3 4 5 1

4 1 2 5 6 8 9 3 7

1 6 8 9 4 2 5 7 3

2 7 3 8 5 6 1 9 4

5 4 9 1 3 7 8 6 2

Puzzle by websudoku.com

WORD BUILDER PAGE 43 5 Inset Talon Saint Shine Atone 6 Saline Inhale Entail Honest Aliens 7 Sea lion Salient Hotline 8 Toenails 9 Hailstone

06 AUG 2021

Crossword

Click 1936

Soldier, Barcelona words by Michael Epis photo by Gerda Taro/Magnum Photos

THEBIGISSUE.ORG.AU

ho fights a war in heels? This woman, apparently: an anti-fascist militiawoman, training on a beach near Barcelona in August 1936. The war was the Spanish Civil War, which began that July when a group of generals, who’d had enough of the five years of instability following the deposing of Spain’s king, decided to put an end to the leftist government. The war was a preview of WWII: a messy fight between fascism and communism, with many other parties – monarchists, capitalists, Catholics, anarchists and every shade of socialist – also involved. An ideological war, it attracted international volunteers – famously writer George Orwell, and perhaps the woman above, whose identity has vanished into the fog of war. Her photographer was another woman – Gerda Taro, who’d fled anti-Semitism in Nazi Germany for Paris. Taro was an assumed name; her birth name was Gerta Pohorylle. In Paris she met Andre Friedmann, a Hungarian-Jewish photographer who too had fled political oppression, first to Berlin, then to Paris. His career was starting out. The two joined forces; she wrote his captions and handled the business side of things, before taking photos herself. They became lovers, and

created a name together – Robert Capa – pretending to be American, the better to get work. Friedmann took the name Capa for himself and she became Taro. He proposed; she refused. Capa went on to great fame as a war photographer, documenting this war, WWII (in particular D-day), the Second Sino-Japanese War, the 1948 Arab-Israeli War and the Indochina War (when the Vietnamese fought the French, before the Vietnam War). Capa co‑founded the world’s most famous photographic agency, Magnum. On 25 July 1937, Taro was riding the runningboard of a general’s car evacuating injured soldiers under aerial fire when it collided with a tank. She fell – and the tank ran over her. Taken to hospital, she died the next day. Aged 26, she had earned the unenviable distinction of becoming the first woman war photographer to die on the job. The newspaper she worked for, Ce Soir, organised a funeral in Paris, where thousands lined the streets, before she was buried in Père Lachaise, her grave marked by a monument by famous sculptor Giacometti. Robert Capa never married (although Oscar-winner Ingrid Bergman was a lover). Ultimately he met the same fate as Taro when in 1954 he stepped on a landmine in Vietnam’s Thái Bình, which mordantly means “great peace”.

06 AUG 2021