Abbreviations

A tense moment in this household is when two of my children produce books to be read. Mercifully, the Mr Men and the more excruciating of the Golden books have been mysteriously mislaid; and we have gone beyond whiffy Miffy. It is a delight to return to Aranea and John Brown and the Midnight Cat, by Jenny Wagner and Ron Brooks; to look again at Possum Magic by Mem Fox and Julie Vivas. And a bit sad to realise that the great achievement of contemporary children’s fiction is not given enough serious recognition in the community at large. A recent discovery in this household is Nobody by Neil McLoud, Ninon Phillips and Jim Howes. Nobody is a skeleton in search of a body, and he answers ads such as ‘The Ferret’s Body-Building business. Let me put some muscle on your bones’ and ‘Zed’s Smash Repair Shop – We put new bodies on old frames’. It is a witty and whimsical book and we all love it. Nobody makes me think of a complex question: who are the Nobodies and who are the Somebodies in the literary world; and who are Nobodies who are really Somebodies? It would be interesting to hear more about ghost writers, who exist in various forms. I’m not talking about the ‘Anon’ letter writers, like the person from Perth who wrote upbraiding me for suggesting that Elizabeth Jolley’s Palomino would have been a worthy recipient of the Miles Franklin Award. My suggestion was – and still is – Mr Scobie’s Riddle, though I’m quite happy to accept Palomino, but all that is beside the point. What is fascinating is that this neatly typed letter offered a jokey pseudonym and then an indecipherable signature. Hello, Nobody. Anonymity might carry some authority in editorials, not in letters. But I’m interested in the Nobodies who are really Somebodies, and I’m sure some of our readers could tell us more about the ghosts who live behind the books. In my ignorance I did not know until I read Craig Munro’s Wild Man of Letters that when I spent hours and days living through Frank Clune’s The Wild Colonial Boys that I was really reading Inky Stephensen. And we know so little about those other ghosts who get so little acknowledgement, the editors of books, whose work is so important in the shaping of so many books. Their work is often unacknowledged, and of course writers have been known to dispute the importance of the contribution of their editors, while others are gracious in their acknowledgement. Perhaps some writers and publishers might like to tell us more about the work of editors. Or some ghost writer might like to rise up and tell us how he/she has been writing Patrick White’s novels for him all these years. Then there are those other ghosts, readers. No, not you, friend. (Anyone still here must be a friend). The readers beloved of magazine editors, publishers and the distributors of literary grants. The reasons for their anonymity are fairly obvious. But I would love to see editors and publishers issue a list of the stable of readers they use. The anonymity of readers carries that authority that editorial writers possess. When you discover that the reader was the class clown back in your primary school days, and is now the literary loudmouth on Friday nights at the pub, that authority is somewhat diminished. ‘Reader’s reports’, ‘our reader’s comments’ have always fascinated me, being a rejectophile of considerable standing and the founding spirit of Rejectophiliacs Anon. The distinguished editor of a distinguished journal rejected an undistinguished story of mine, adding a typed, anon ‘reader’s comment’. The reader noted that I had not ‘homed in on a central, mediated realty’. Fair enough, I have always known that my metaphysics were a bit unmediated, decentralised, even if I don’t know what ‘the reader’ meant. It did become a bit clearer. I found attached to the typed anon report a fuller version, handwritten, signed by a prominent man of letters. ‘The writer has not homed in on a central, unmediated reality, especially as he expects us to believe that an eight year old would be allowed to accompany her uncle to a lounge bar’. There are readers and readers, there are pubs and pubs. It was with some pleasure a few years later, that while relaxing from the rigors of a literary conference, I was able to approach the man of letters, recall his comment, and point to the two kids accompanying their mother across the lounge bar. Editors might like to mediate the reality of their stable of readers. So might the awarders of literary grants. While not denying that there is some point to Anon’s existence, even necessity, I think Anon has too much authority. Literary awards presumably acknowledge a writer who is somebody, though of course in terms of public recognition they often make Nobody into Somebody. One of the important aspects of the Mattara Poetry Prize is that it is simply a Poetry Prize. When prizes are spread across a number of categories, we put our money where our mouths are and poetry often seems to get left behind by fiction, non-fiction and drama. The Mattara is sponsored by the Hunter District Water Board and the University of Newcastle. The first prize will be $2000, with other prizes of up to $1500. Further payments will be made for publication in the annual anthology. The judges are Les A. Murray, Chris Wallace-Crabbe. The manuscript must be an original work, written in English, and must not have been previously published, accepted for publication, or under offer to any publishers. Manuscripts must be type-written and two copies should be submitted. Entries should include two stamped, self-addressed envelopes, not for the usual purpose as entries will not be returned, but for acknowledgement of receipt and for notification of results. Entries must be lodged by May 31, 1985. Prize winners will be announced in the Australian on 7th September, 1985. Entries should be sent to: The Mattara Poetry Prize,Department of English,University of Newcastle,N.S.W. 2308 So, Everybody, get to it. I don’t know whether the Queensland Government is going to extend literary awards in that State. Recently, the Queensland Parliament was no doubt stunned with delight to hear the Minister for Education inform the breathless world that in Queensland there was none of the censorship carried on by the loony left of the London Education Authority. Goodness me, now. Golly, in the deep north you can still read Robin Crusoe (now that’s positive discrimination) as well as the works of Jane Eyre. Over in South Australia, they’re also into books, with the South Australian Festival Awards for Literature. This involves a revision of the previous South Australian biennial literary prizes and the awards will be offered biennially in six categories. 1) National Fiction Award for published novel or collection of short stories. $10,000.2) National Poetry Award for a published collection of poems or for a single poem of substantial length. $7500.3) A South Australian Award for a published work of fiction or non-fiction. $7500.4) A National Children’s Book Award for a published work of fiction or non-fiction. $7500.5) A National Novel Manuscript Award. $75, with publication by the Wakefield Press.6) The South Australia Youth Awards for Poetry and Prose. This is restricted to young writers between the ages of 16 and 25, usually resident in South Australia. $2500, plus any resulting royalties. The closing date is 1st November, 1985. Winners will be announced at the opening of Writers Week, March 1986, at Adelaide Festival Arts. Further information may be obtained from: William Fleming,Project Officer,Department for the Arts,GPO Box 2308,Adelaide, 5001 (phone 08 227 3980) And good luck to ghost writer, Jane Eyre.

John Hanrahan

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Abbreviations