Michael Kirby, Australians’ champion of love

Australia’s longest serving judge Michael Kirby shared the stage with authorised biographer Daryl Dellora and chair Mick O’Reagan, ABC Radio National’s homepage editor. Kirby’s thoughtful and compassionate comments and humorous anecdotes of his personal life, and his experiences as a High Court judge were entertaining and thought provoking.

Kirby set the tone early by taking the mickey out of himself when plugging his own book A Private Life: Fragments, Memories and Friends and Dellora’s Michael Kirby: Law, Love and Life, holding the books up and saying “I would hate to be so vulgar as to advertise my books”.

O’Regan described Kirby as a man with a great passion for family, his long-term partner Johan van Vloten and an unrelenting courage to stand up for what he believes to be right and just.  Kirby was quick to point out that he has his faults, joking that one day he sat down with van Vloten to list them and van Vloten looked across at Kirby’s notepad and said, “that pad’s not big enough”.

Michael Kirby, Daryl Dellora and Mick O’Regan in the signing tent at Byron Bay Writers’ Festival after their session. Photograph: Tao Jones.

While the conversation moved effortlessly between his early years when he met van Vloten, to his rise in the High Court, it soon became apparent that Kirby’s message today is about love. Referring to Law, Love and Life Kirby said that the title should be reversed as life precedes all, it is the genesis of our being, then comes love, it gives our lives meaning while developing and enriching us and lastly is the law, “down there”.

Kirby spoke warmly of his family admitting that he has been surrounded by love all his life and, “anyone who denies another love is not a nice person”. This was in spite of the difficulties he encountered when coming out as a homosexual both publicly and personally. Dellora’s book contains extracts from letters between Kirby and his father written in the ’60s that encouraged him to go to the top doctors on Harley Street to get himself fixed, making his plea, “as a loving father”. When his mother read the letters she wrote back, “I love you, I love you, I love you”.

Kirby encouraged the audience to be grateful for the love in their lives, that if we find someone who is kind, supportive and honest we are a lucky human, whether we are straight or gay. He said it doesn’t matter if we have a mother who loves us and another mother, or a dad and another dad, the important ingredient is love and any child that is loved is a lucky child.

He talked about the fear campaign in the media’s coverage of refugees pointing out that Australians shouldn’t be swayed by fear. He drew attention to the fact that Australia has a very small number of refugees, currently around five thousand, which is substantially less than other countries. What he would like to see is a process where their applications can be processed more quickly so people know where they stand asserting, “we shouldn’t be so unkind to these people”.

Kirby’s respect for life is not limited to human beings but extends to animals. He is encouraged to see how many young people attending university are campaigning for Animal Law, that they are saying our society is cruel to animals and, “we have corporatised the killing”. Kirby’s own view is we should be treating animals as sentient beings and extending to them love and care.

When writing a biography, Dellora said he looks for something others have overlooked and saw that Kirby is one of the only people willing to speak out about love.

Kirby, a man who has devoted his life to human rights and the law and continues to serve on international bodies remains genuinely conscious of his shortcomings. He spoke highly of his partner van Vloten and his capacity, “to give and give at all times”, against which he could only describe himself as a selfish man.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he said, “I should be down mowing the lawns.”

Missed the Kirby session? Click on the image to listen.

Humble words from Australia’s champion of love.

Margo Laidley-Scott is a media student at Southern Cross University.

After Auschwitz, there can be no more poetry

During the closing session of the Byron Bay Writers’ Festival 2012, some of the darker themes of writing were explored in Going To The Dark Side.  Chaired expertly by Ashley Hay, the panellists Tony Birch, Tony Cavanaugh and Denise Leith all spoke about their unique experiences of going to the dark side in their writing – a defining thread that seemed to tie them all together. The discussion took an up-close-and-personal look at the darker aspects of human society: war, fear, violence, disaster and environmental collapse – all the usual suspects.

In writing their novels, each panellist had to embark upon a journey into the dark, either through their protagonist, or through the vivid reality of war itself as in the shape of Leith’s book; more closely aligned with fact.

Leith questioned her own obsessive interest in war but reasoned that it is in trying to understand injustice and humanity – an issue she has grappled with since childhood – that she keeps coming back to the subject.

“In war, you see the worst of human behaviour and the best of human behaviour,”  Leith says.

Compassion and kindness always find a way to arise from even the darkest of places, including the abject horror of war, and it is to that place Leith always returns.

It is evident early on in the session that all of the panelists climbed deeply into their books, in some cases research itself almost bordering on a process not dissimilar to madness, channelling psychopaths and swallowing down story after story on serial killers and the like.

Tony Birch describes his connection to the darkness as a deep sense of intrigue into the nature of evil. Before long the line between good and evil is explored in depth on the panel.

Let’s talk about the Rwandan genocide and the way in which Hutus were not just killers, but in some cases heroes – as in those who were hiding the Tutsis, Leith said. This made us all question what enabled them to be so incredibly brave?

Does evil exist? Leith suggests that after everywhere she has been and everything she has seen as a reporter and war correspondent, it isn’t so much that people are evil but that they are capable of doing evil deeds.

There is great skill involved in orchestrating mass slaughter, explain Tony Cavanaugh. Though it is cold-blooded, pathological murder that he struggles to understand. Those are the kind of murders that make you stand up and take notice.

So what keeps us from crossing over? From going to the dark side?

Having the courage to go inside yourself and to ask the deeper questions, Cavanaugh explains.

“To know thy self. Because once you have crossed that line, there is no going back. After Auschwitz, there can be no more poetry.”

Michelle Sim is a student at Southern Cross University. 

Speaking Freely: The impact of censorship

If you were heading out to the Byron Bay Writers’ Festival today to an event entitled Speaking Freely: The Impact of Censorship, you’d probably assume that Julian Assange would rate a mention.

Instead however, the presence of Assange loomed large in the marquis tent this morning, like an omniscient presence – the proverbial elephant in the room.

Was it a conscious decision not to talk about the Wikileaks founder and the fate that surely awaits him for his role in overseeing what he describes as the pursuit of transparency?  Was it possible that the panel of journalists, hand chosen for their stance against censorship, had in fact chosen today to censor the big man himself? Perhaps it was just a really big oversight on um… someone’s behalf. Anyway -

Sitting on the panel were Mohammed Hanif, Denise Leith and Nicole Moore, who has just recently published a book on the history of censorship in Australia. Chaired by Julianne Schultz stepping in for Simon Marnie, Schultz paid homage to the PEN empty chair, reserved for not one, but three international writers who were currently imprisoned respectively in Mexico and China, on charges relating to censorship and conspiracy.

I couldn’t help thinking that a chair should have been reserved for Julian Assange but then that would have actually meant mentioning his name, and discussing a whole bunch of really necessary issues – giving less time for each panellist to plug their prospective books. Enough said.

The theme of ‘speaking freely’ pivoted around what censorship has to say about a society. The central questions society must ask of itself chimed the panel, revolve around what is being censored and why.

In Pakistan, explains Hanif, silence is the ultimate blasphemy. What is silenced and excluded tells you a lot about a society.

Moore brought an interesting perspective to the panel derived from the research on her book, The Censor’s Library. Funnily enough the book took seven years to complete, Moore tells us.

“I went down into the archives and then seven years later, I emerged.”

There were literally 793 boxes, equalling 12,000 titles of censored books.

Throughout Australia’s history, explains Moore, different types of books have been banned for different reasons, depending on the era and the moral panic of the time. Social norms played a huge role in determining what was classed as taboo. For example, in the thirties it was books on birth control and sex, then we moved onto homosexuality, and in a post war Australia it was all about political censorship, particularly Socialism and Communism.

In Pakistan, explains Hanif, it used to be about sex, and now censorship is all about religion. Even the average citizen must be careful how they speak about religion in the public domain and therefore a kind of self-censorship becomes normal in everyday life.

For the writer and for the journalist, there is a responsibility to share truth and to remain faithful to the truth while at the same time remaining respectful of those who may not want those stories told. Hanif suggests that fiction is the perfect solution. Writing fiction, he explains, enables the writer to tell the story they want to tell, the story they think is important, without having to worry about self-censorship or stepping on anyone’s toes.

On the topic of self-censorship, Denise Leith shares her own knowledge and wisdom on the subject of war reporting and particularly photojournalism.

“Photo-journalists are faced with a series of ethical and moral decisions,” Leith says.

Telling the truth isn’t always straight-forward, there are costs involved for the subjects in the photograph and their families, for the newspaper owners, for the advertisers and for the public at large. The journalist’s role is to document the truth and they give us the first cut of the truth but at the same time, there are consequences, and choices must be based around decorum, respect and tact. In the end it always comes back to that question of what is most at stake.

Evidently.

Michelle Sim is a Southern Cross University Student. 

Cooking our way to salvation: Jim Hearn and Wayne Macauley

Can we cook our way to salvation?

This is the question posed to Jim Hearn (researcher, filmmaker, chef and author of High Season: A Memoir of Hospitality and Heroin), and Wayne Macauley (highly acclaimed and awarded author of many titles including his most recent, The Cook) by Michaela McGuire (writer, columnist and author, Melbourne’s Women of Letters Salon host) in the Blue Marquee on the final afternoon of the Byron Bay Writers’ Festival.

Two very “real” authors sit facing the crowd from the stage, “real” as in honest and approachable. Jim Hearn and Wayne Macauley have a common thread in their writing; both their recent books are set inside commercial kitchens, but that is where the similarities end.

Hearn’s experiences in High Season are gritty and real-to-life. Set locally in Byron Bay, it is a memoir reflecting upon the reality of chefing and the toll it can take on one’s life. He describes the havoc on our “actual, physical body” that long hours and unforgiving schedules creanjte, the roller coaster ride of adrenalin that fast-paced service times demand, as well as the effect of this sort of career on family and relationships. He laments that “hospitality doesn’t lend itself to happy families”.

Hearn describes his work as being “raw and unapologetic, (a story) about living on the edge, addiction”  – he went through a nasty heroin addiction and thankfully, a recovery – “and rites of passage”.

There are no doubt some similar experiences that Hearn may have shared with “Zac”, a troubled young man wanting to become a chef who is Macauley’s central character in The Cook. Hearn’s experiences were all very real happenings though, that he has courageously shared with readers even though they may be some of the most difficult times of his life. Macauley credits his research to a lot of reading cookbooks, foodie blogs and biographies of celebrity chefs, whereas Hearn can look back on his life and see how his own path created an amazing story to work with, despite many twists and turns.

After working for many years as a Chef, Hearn returned to university at SCU as a mature age student to complete a BA (Hons) and is currently enrolled in a Phd at the University of Sydney, demonstrating the benefits of re-educating ourselves in later years with life experience to back up the theory.

It seems Hearn is a man with the gift of retrospective clarity. He is of an age when he reflect on his life and start to see that all of the craziness and suffering might have actually been headed somewhere, not just a continual path of learning, but towards lessons he can share with others in a hope of reaching out, both on a cautionary and empathetic level.

Both men read passages from their books. Hearn reads steadily and it is easy to see the rawness of the text in relation to the person reading, which is an amazing thing to witness in a world of overly constructed writing. Macauley offers a faster paced account, with his passion for storytelling really coming alive as he speaks, almost excited to drop each word into an attentive audience. Both men are engaging on their own terms, very different in styles which creates an interesting dynamic on stage.

Michaela McGuire now turns the conversation towards how meals and eating out (and the whole Masterchef movement) have gained such power, and how they are viewed as  status symbols in contemporary Australian society rather than as mere sustenance. Hearn seems slightly amused by this notion, explaining that the actuality of restaurants is more about the service and receipt of generosity than “all about the food”. He laughs off the TV perception that chefs stand around all day discussing the greatest way to create jus, also at the contrast of “working class” Australian kids getting immersed in French cooking terminology to get through their apprenticeships.

Hearn said it has definitely been part of the reason that Australian cuisine has become more sophisticated, due to a strong European influence, but that, overall, the relationship between the host and the guest is paramount to the underlying tasks of any successful food business.

There is lively debate between Macauley and Hearn over the role of service and servitude, and Macauley makes the point that sometimes it can be excruciating to pay for ten times an ingredient’s worth whilst dining out, especially in stark disproportion to the fact that we are experiencing widespread global poverty and food shortages. His socially aware stream of thought seems to echo a moment of sadness in the audience, which Hearn breaks by stating the truth of the matter, however disconcerting to hear.

“We live in a consumer-driven climate; so, no, cooking will never be a way to salvation, it is not possible.”

It seems that it is going to take more to save the world, or our souls, than a well-executed meal. Maybe true salvation may lie not in the presentation of a plate but in filling the bowls of the starving? Just a thought …

Keira Patrick is a Southern Cross University media student.

Nationhood, identity and stories

Michelle Aung Thin is the author of The Monsoon Bride. Born in Burma before growing up in Canada, Aung Thin was raised with tales of her Burmese history by her parents and family, but didn’t have a connection with her past. The stories she was told felt removed from her existence, similar to a fairytale told to children.

This was before Aung Thin went to research one of the stories she was heard as a child. The story was her parents’, as they tried to leave Rangoon during the Japanese invasion in the 1930s. According to the story, Aung Thin’s parents were aboard a train, heading to cross the Indian border. Aung Thin’s mother was pregnant with Michelle, and the situation was one of life and death. There were thousands of Burmese trying to flee the Japanese army, and there weren’t enough vehicles to see everyone to safety.

The train that was taking Aung Thin’s family to safety was bombed, and this left the family in a situation. There was only one plane to take refugees to India and luckily, her family was able to get on board and across the border.

This was a story that was told in great detail to Aung Thin, but she was unable to comprehend that this was her story, her history. It more than just a fairytale to her, but it was her fairytale. When Aung Thin went to the British Archives to research this story, she found out that much of this story was reality.

The story of Burma’s history isn’t as settled as somewhere such as Australia. Rather than there being a definite ‘Burmese’ race, Burma is a nation made up of a wide range of ethnic societies and communities. Before colonial intervention, the nation did not exist, and thus Burma did not have a national identity.

Since colonialism and the borders it created, the countries surrounding Burma have been contesting them. The totalitarian regime that has ruled the nation has meant that for many years, stories and news from inside Burma have been hard to come by outside its borders. This inspired Aung Thin to write The Monsoon Bride, as this period of history is unwritten and very often unspoken. Compared with the other events that took place in the 1930s, the struggles of Burma for identity and independence has been one either ignored or unknown.

Michelle Aung Thin speaks from a generation who grew up hearing about Rangoon being an amazing place, filled with opportunities. Her father came to the city with nothing, funded himself through law school and ended up opening a law firm. He was able to marry, start a family and purchase his own home.

That was Rangoon back then, a diverse cosmopolitan city, but now it is something completely different, and only a change from the silence of totalitarian rule to the open speech of democracy can bring back. Michelle Aung Thin is a voice from a land that needs it story heard.

Michelle Aung Thin spoke with author Janie Conway-Herron.

Aaron Monopoli is a Southern Cross University media student.

Scaring people ‘sh*tless’: the craft of crime writing

We got settled in our seats, while chairman John Green looked out over us, his sweeping gaze settling on everyone. He asked us to trust him.

“Don’t turn around,” he said. “Don’t panic. Don’t leave your seats, but there’s a shifty looking man at the entrance with something explosive. It’s not a bomb – it’s a crime novel!”

Well, there isn’t anything too scary about that is there? Well, if you met the panelists at this session of the 2011 Byron Bay Writers’ Festival, you might say differently.

Jaye Ford was living the typical Australian life; a sport presenter on SBS and regional television, and then running her own public relations business. But the lure of crime writing couldn’t be stopped. Her first novel, Beyond Fear, was published earlier this year, and she is currently working on her second.

LA Larkin has many busy days, working at one of our country’s leading climate change consultancies and writing. Her first novel, The Genesis Flaw, was released last year with her second novel to be released later this month.

The final member of this panel was a veteran of crime fiction, Michael Robotham, who has published multiple international bestsellers. He has written as a ghostwriter for celebrities and decorated soldiers since his first thriller, Suspect, was written in 2004. His latest, The Wreckage, was released in April this year.

This group of crime buffs, led by our creepy chairman John Green, walked the audience through what it takes to scare the readers. Developing characters, setting the scenes and taking the reader on an adventure are only just three of the factors needed to write ‘the perfect crime’.

When asked if it’s is important to scare the readers, Jaye Ford didn’t think so.

“I want them to read a rocking good story, and if they get scared along the way, then I did a good job,” she said and Larkin agreed.

“It’s not about the scare, it’s about the adventure; how you get the reader back safely,” Larkin added.

But it isn’t the most popular line of work, as Robotham found out after his wife reviewed a draft of Shatter.

“[She said] no one’s going to invite us round to dinner anymore,” he said. “Everyone will think you’re a sick bastard.”

As stories were told about gathering research and finding time to write, these three authors lent their magnifying glass to the audience to discover the secrets behind crime writing. A great help for the detective in all of us, and the perfect note to end our experience of the 2011 Byron Writers’ Festival.

Amelia Turner and Josephine Mooney are Southern Cross University media students.

A terrifying prospect turns to pleasure

Finalists hear the judges' feedback after making our 'perfect' pitches

I’ve always had a fear of public speaking so naturally I entered the Perfect Pitch.
What I was thinking of? Pitch Perfect was session where six writers were selected to talk about their manuscripts for five minutes. It means putting your work and your ideas right out there.
I was still nervous when it came time yesterday to pitch my novel, The Search Engine. I hadn’t slept well and had been busy with the blogging team but had a good support team of friends. That helps. The public speaking book and visualizations I had done helped as well. It felt a bit like going in for an operation. You have to take a deep breath and know it will be better when it’s over. I watched all the previous pitchers first – Annette Kendall with her Lost in Kakadu novel from which she read. (The judges said they hoped everyone had selected something to read. Tick.)
I watched Marissa Treichel with her excellent sounding parenting book, and Annette Marfording with her fascinating idea for an anthology of her Australian writers’ radio interviews and Sue Vader with her book that sets out a magical connection with David Boyd and his family, and Francis Dundovic-Cloake and her Sarajevo tale following me.
The judges, publishers Louise Thurtell of Allen and Unwin, Penny Hueston of Text Publishing, and John Hunter of University of Queensland Press made excellent and helpful comments.

As I began, I started to read my notes but looking up and smiling when I could, seeing many familiar faces. The crowd laughed mostly when I hoped they might, and then something happened. I started to enjoy it.
I’m sure this was because of the preparation – years on the book, and weeks, and hours on the pitch. The feedback from the publishers was positive with them identifying a couple of points in my pitch. I should more closely define my market and not mention any rejections.
Now I must go home and polish my manuscript for submission.

Marian Edmunds