Where are you happiest?
In the driver’s seat of our Toyota Corolla on the way to Burleigh Heads. The family’s playing a trivia quiz where you have to answer deep-cut questions about a particular family member sitting in the car, and then my youngest daughter says some gag weirdly beyond her years and we all laugh our heads off, and then my wife calls it all for wh ...
Joan Didion. Not sure what happened, to her or to me, but she lost me about twenty years ago.... (read more)
Mum and dad. I still need to talk to them. My kids, Marnie and Jack. Best meal was scallops and a few beers with my son at Huonville on a pontoon in the river.... (read more)
Cleaning out my flat recently I offloaded quite a few books that – after carrying them around for twenty years – I finally admitted I would probably never read again. Among them were quite a few Paul Auster novels. I had a huge crush on his work when I was younger, but feel they have outlived their appeal for me.... (read more)
Camping at Thurra River in the Croajingalong National Park, swimming in its tannin estuary, cooking fresh fish, gossiping while walking its long white beaches, watching the sea eagles soar.... (read more)
At night I sit on the brick patio of a beach house at Currarong with a garden of flannel flowers and kangaroo paws. I listen to the ocean through a windbreak of low eucalypts and banksias, just a hundred paces away.... (read more)
Generally where I am right now, in my study writing, but also in the garden. It is very uncomplicated.... (read more)
Our reading needs change, and the books we revisit constantly grow in number, but if I must choose, I will nominate Kate Millett’s Sexual Politics (1970) for the way it forced me to confront the ugly fact that the works of so many of the (male) writers I admired – specifically Norman Mailer, D.H. Lawrence, and Henry Miller – were predicated on a deep hatred of women. This changed me forever.... (read more)