When Craft and Song Collide...

Don't ever let it be said that craft isn't awesome. If Architecture in Helsinki AND Tricot Machine are doing it, it's cool.

Architecture in Helsinki - Like It Or Not from helsinkids on Vimeo.

Tricot Machine - Les Peaux de Lievres

We used to DREAM of living in a corridor!

In honour of it being the Melbourne Comedy Festival, I present: The Evolution of a Skit.

Remember the Four Yorkshiremen skit from Monty Python? Well it turns out it wasn't originally a Python Skit. The first version was on the At Last the 1948 Show, and featured John Cleese, Tim Brooke-Taylor, Marty Feldman and Graham Chapman.

The Pythons did it some years later, and it's pretty much the same. Here's a live version:

And then finally, here's a more recent live version, with Eddie Izzard, Harry Enfield, Vic Reeves and Alan Rickman. They updated it a bit, but it is still full of lolsome goodness.

White Raven

Scatterheart has been selected as a White Raven book.

The International Youth Library in Germany selects 250 books from all over the world each year that they think 'deserve worldwide attention because of their universal themes and/or their exceptional and often innovative artistic and literary style and design'.

The list is called the White Raven catalogue.

Friday Things

My favourite book cover of the week:

My favourite headline of the week: Man charged after teen bashed with hedgehog.

My favourite cheezburger of the week:

And here's an old favourite, with a twist.

Come and see me!

I'll be at the Coburg Library on Thursday evening, talking about Me and My Books and My Job. I might even read from one of my New Books...

7pm, Thursday 10 April
Coburg Library
Cnr Victoria and Louisa Streets
Coburg.

To book, call 9353 4000

Trust Me

Oh look! It's a new anthology, featuring a creepy story by me!


Trust Me is published by Ford Street Press and edited by Paul Collins, and features such luminaries as Shaun Tan, Gary Crew, James Roy and David Metzenthen. It has an introduction by Isobelle Carmody, and can be found in the normal places where you find books.


The super-keen should come along to the launch, which will be at the State Library of Victoria Theatrette on Thursday April 10, at 4pm.


PS. I'm older! w00t!

Adelaide: City of Horror

My grandparents have guests, so Mum and I are staying in the house next door. It’s empty, because the Italian couple who used to live there died over two years ago. But the house is still full of all their furniture and clothes* and toothbrushes**. And crucifixes. LOTS of crucifixes***. Crucifixes and lots of fancy ornate furniture and a gold satin bedspread****.

Above the ornate bed and the gold satin bedspread, there’s a light-up picture of Jesus looking miserable.

I feel like I’m in the first scene of a horror film. I’m about to go and have a shower, and I know I’m going to come out, wearing a towel, and I’ll walk down the hall and it will be colder than I remembered. And I’ll open the door to the bedroom, and Mum will be lying on the bed, but she’ll be all wrinkled and grey and sunken, like she’s been dead for a hundred years.
I’ll scream (and, depending on what kind of horror film it is, my towel might fall down). Then sunken-dead Mum will open her eyes and draw a ragged, gasping breath...

______________________________________________

*dead-people clothes!

**dead-people toothbrushes!

***crucifixes? Should it be crucifices?

****PLEASE TELL ME somebody washed the sheets after they died.

Friday links

My oldest friend Jellyfish (who is now, thanks to the Powers of Awesome, my next-door neighbour) has requested that I post more entertaining internetty things on this blog so she doesn't have to trawl through all the dancing-hamster guff.

Jelly, this is for you.

(via Meg Cabot)

5 songs that don't work in Australia anymore

I Can't Stand the Rain

Why Does it Always Rain on Me?

Nothing Stops the Rain

Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head

Rainy Days and Mondays

Look out for cyclists

Diamond Wedding Anniversary

INT Thai Restaurant, afternoon. Adelaide.

LILI, MUM and GRANDMA are putting out place-cards at the table. A WAITRESS is doing something with prawn crackers.

GRANDMA

We can’t put Barbara and Ley on that side of the 

table, because they won’t be able to get out with

 their walking-sticks.

MUM

But if we put them there, then Auntie Peg won’t be 

able to talk to Mary.

GRANDMA

But if Peg is there, then she’ll have to sit next to 

Dennis, and she won’t like that.

WAITRESS

I don’t have a grandma.

LILI

If Mum and I are round there, we’ll have to clamber

 over everyone to get out and make our speech 

and run the slideshow.

GRANDMA

But if Kat and Brian are there, they won’t be able 

to go outside to smoke.

LILI

So?

WAITRESS

My grandma is in Cambodia. I never met her.

MUM

Put us on the end.

GRANDMA

Make sure you’re next to your Dad, Carole.

MUM

Wouldn’t it be better if you were next to me?

GRANDMA

Why?

MUM

Because you talk so much, and you’re stuck in the 

corner. Dad never talks to anyone, and he’s in 

the middle.

LILI

So why don’t we move them over there?

WAITRESS

You’re so lucky to have a grandma.

GRANDMA

No, because we can’t move Barbara and Ley. 

It can’t be done.

The WAITRESS starts to cry.

MUM

So let’s just swap you and Dad.

LILI

But then it won’t be gender-balanced! For the love 

of God, it has to be boy-girl!

SILENCE, except for the choking sobs of the WAITRESS.

Poetry

I'm not much of a fan. Oh, I like Aussie YA poets like Steven Herrick, alicia sometimes and Adam Ford. Sharon Creech's Love that Dog is one of my all-time-favourite books. I like e.e. cummings and Lewis Carroll and Walt Whitman and that guy who wrote the poem about eating all the plums. I can even recite all of The Lady of Shalott, and know that it's 'clothe the wold and meet the sky', not 'clothe the world and meet the sky'.

But I don't really like poetry. Mostly because of the way it's abused. In fact, the only way I would ever read a book about poetry, is if I found an audiobook about it read by Stephen Fry. Which I did, and so I am.

Fry points out the problem with poetry, using another highly-structured art form as an example. Music, he says, (and I paraphrase because I was on the train and couldn't write it down) may provoke an intense emotional response in the listener. But an intense emotional response is not enough to make music.

You don't come home from a crappy day when your boyfriend got runover and your cat ran off with a supermodel and think - I'm going to write an emo symphony about how nobody ever really loved me. You need to have some sort of learned skill that involves reading music or playing chords on a guitar or knowing what a 3/4 time signature is.

So it's not that all poetry is crap. It's that most poetry is crap. Your average amateur poet thinks that because poetry is constructed out of language, and language is something they have a grasp on - they can do it. Most of the time they are wrong.

This is the same kind of logic that made Heather Mills say that she thinks she'd be good at writing children's books because she has a daughter.

In other news, I'm planning a new career as an entymologist, because there are moths in my pantry so clearly I'd kick arse.

renovating

things might look a bit weird for the next few days. i'm getting me a website!

Five Awesome Things

Yesterday there was an unpleasant incident involving a very large dead possum, and a picket fence gate. It also involved me, some rubber gloves, a garbage bag, and the knowledge that I will never be the same.

But after having had multiple showers, I'm feeling much better about the whole thing, and am ready to focus on the good things in life, namely:

1. The Baby Formally Known As Figgy.

2. Cool Changes.

3. Long Weekends.

4. Hot Cross Buns.

5. YouTube (thanks, B!)

iPod shame

Today, for the first time ever, I experienced iPod shame.

Now, I'm generally quite proud to have some unusual things on my iPod. I have a large collection of songs from Sesame Street, for instance, that I treasure*. I'm even willing to admit I have a couple of George Michael songs on there.

But recently I've been delving back into the 90s. Why? Good question. It's certainly not because it was an era of musical genius, that's for sure. The reason is because I'm writing a book that contains elements of autobiography, so I'm trying to remember what it was like being 16 year old Lili. This process has also involved reading lots of old diaries and letters (the POETRY! save me from the POETRY!!!), and watching TV shows like this on DVD.

So I managed to get my hands on some Top 40 hits like this one. And this one. And this one. Oh, and this one.

So this morning I was sitting on the bus. Listening to my iPod. And a new song came on. And I looked down at my iPod, and saw this. And I quickly turned it over to hide the screen, because I Had A Shame. Please don't judge me.

Oh, and just to make you feel old: that baby, on the cover of the Nirvana album up there? His name is Spencer Elden. He's 17 now. Doing his final year of high school in LA.

_____________________________
*Who wouldn't want Steve Tyler singing I Love Trash? Come on, people.

The Crafty Wench Strikes Again

A cosy flowery scarf for winter... Pattern here.
A not-turtle* for Not A Turtle's Birthday. Pattern here.

And some elfin boots for baby Figgy. Pattern here.
___________________________
*because it's a tortoise.

Well done, sister suffragette!

Today is International Women's Day.

It's also the Centenary of Women's Suffrage in Victoria.

New Zealand came first with the whole women-voting thing, in 1893, followed by South Australia in 1902.

In Victoria, the issue was kicked off in 1891 when Premier James Munro said that he'd introduce a bill for Women's suffrage if ordinary women demonstrated they wanted the right. They did. They created the Monster Petition, with 30 000 signatures, in six weeks. The petition was 260 metres long, and several attendants were needed to carry it into Parliament. For some strange reason it took 19 bills and 17 years to actually give women the voting stamp of approval, but that's what happens when all the politicians are men.

The UK gave women the vote in 1918, but it had restrictions until 1928.

The US did it in 1920.

Italy gave women the nod in 1948, as did Belgium, Israel, Iraq and South Korea.

Switzerland didn't have women's suffrage until 1971, nor Lichtenstein, until 1984.

The most recent nation to grant their women the right to vote was the United Arab Emirates. There are still restrictions, which will be lifted by 2010.

We've come a long way, but while you're munching on your purple-iced cupcake and admiring your fancy new blue stockings, spare a thought for the women in the world who are still disenfranchised.

A Short Comprehension Test

NEW YORK (Reuters) - Billionaire Harry Potter author J.K. Rowling would feel "exploited" if a fan's unofficial encyclopedic companion to the boy wizard series was published, she said in court papers made public on Thursday.

QUESTION:
Who's side is Reuters on, the billionaire, or the fan? Explain your answer. (full article here)

Anniversary

I have worked here for five years. How very un-Gen Y of me.

Garfield minus Garfield

What is reading?

I was listening to the audiobook of Barack Obama's The Audacity of Hope this morning on the bus, and I thought Is this reading?

My immediate thought was no. Reading has to have words printed on a page. Then I thought of Shaun Tan's The Arrival, which has no words, but is definitely read.

But you don't read a painting in a gallery. Do you?

You do read:
-sheet music
-tea-leaves
-braille
-moods

Wikipedia says: Reading is the cognitive process of deriving meaning from written or printed text. I am not so sure.

Saturday morning rant (story v language)

I've been thinking a lot about the war that is being fought between story and language.

It shouldn't be a war. Language and story should work together. But people don't seem to want to let them, and so they fight.

I heard someone say recently that they didn't like books they couldn't put down. This person felt manipulated by a gripping plot. I found this astonishing.

It goes hand-in-hand with the snobbery towards mass-market fiction, chicklit (see Maureen Johnson's awesome post for more on that) and, of course, YA.

Nick Hornby has this to say:

“In a way, I think all books should be teen books. I can read them quickly without getting bogged down, and feel I’ve read something that was meant in the way literature’s supposed to be. They’re very digestible, designed not to bore people.”

But if you have a look at the kind of books that win the Miles Franklin and the Booker, it seems pretty clear that the literati don't agree. Literature needs to be dense, beautiful and obfuscating.

I love beautiful language. Writers like Margaret Atwood (pre-Oryx & Crake), Jorge Louis-Borges and Gabriel Garcia Marquez. And of course the beautiful-language YA writers Ursula Dubosarsky, Margo Lanagan and David Almond. But as well as having a truly magical control over language, all these writers also know how to tell a cracking good story.

Making stories is an art. It's difficult and complex and there are rules and structures, and if you don't want to stick to those rules and structures, then fine, but you'd better have a damn good reason. In my four years of studying creative writing at Uni, not one class mentioned the importance of structure, except of course, for my screenwriting class.

The story vs language brawl spills over into visual media as well. Film can be loved by our intellectual elite because of its 'language' - the cinematography, metaphor and mood. Television, however, is much more reliant on story. Smaller screens, heavily prescribed time limits, and a need for continuity mean that TV shows have more rules and structures.
But that doesn't mean they can't be art, too. There is often more thought, care, craft, put into an episode of The West Wing, Six Feet Under or Veronica Mars, than into a feature film of the kind that our intellectual elite favour.

I'm not really sure where this rant is heading. I suppose it's a plea. Don't be ashamed to read The Da Vinci Code just because it's mass market fiction. There are plenty of other reasons to be ashamed (ie: it's crap). Embrace your love of chicklit (and its cinematic equivalent, the romcom). Read a fantasy novel. Watch Battlestar Galactica.

Yes. There is bad chicklit. And bad fantasy novels. And books like The Da Vinci Code.

But here's a revalation: there's a lot of bad books, full stop. Some of them have won prestigious literary awards.

You will judge a book by its cover - everyone does. I certainly do. But I try not to judge books by what section of the bookshop they are shelved in*.

Send in the peacekeepers! End the war! Give story a chance.

_______________

*This isn't entirely true. I tend to avoid self-help and true-crime. But in terms of fiction, I'm showing the love for all shelves.

ZOMBIE IDOL

Over at insideadog, Maureen Johnson is putting to the test the theory that all books are made better with a zombie.

And you're invited! Transform a work of existing literature by adding a zombie. You might even win a prize...

Here's examples from Maureen, Justine and Scott. And here's mine, with apologies to Walt Whitman:

O ZOMBIE! my Zombie! our fearful trip is done; 

Our bodies weather'd every whack, the brains we sought are nom nom nom; 

Our lunch is near, the bells I hear, the people all screaming, 

While follow eyes the zombie reel, our onslaught grim and daring: 

But O brains! brains! brains!

O the bleeding drops of red, 

Where on the deck my dinner lies, 

Fallen cold and dead.

Sorry

Today we honour the Indigenous peoples of this land, the oldest continuing cultures in human history.

We reflect on their past mistreatment.

We reflect in particular on the mistreatment of those who were stolen generations - this blemished chapter in our nation's history.

The time has now come for the nation to turn a new page in Australia's history by righting the wrongs of the past and so moving forward with confidence to the future.

We apologise for the laws and policies of successive Parliaments and governments that have inflicted profound grief, suffering and loss on these our fellow Australians.

We apologise especially for the removal of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children from their families, their communities and their country.

For the pain, suffering and hurt of these stolen generations, their descendants and for their families left behind, we say sorry.

To the mothers and the fathers, the brothers and the sisters, for the breaking up of families and communities, we say sorry.

And for the indignity and degradation thus inflicted on a proud people and a proud culture, we say sorry.

(the rest is here)

Writers + Editors = Love

Santos for President!

Er, I mean Obama. Are they actually different people?

There's been much Debate amongst the troops about whether we like Santos Obama or Hillary better. And I know there must be many Americans who are also struggling with this decision. So, for all of the THOUSANDS of Americans that I know read this blog, here is my helpful guide:



Candidates as gaming consoles (Hillary is the well-funded and experienced Xbox 360, Santos Obama: "Yes Wii Can!")

Candidates as D&D characters.

Candidates as Muppets (thanks, Snazzy!)

BUT SERIOUSLY

This is a really useful website that has a QUIZ to match your priorities against the candidates'. Environment and Education make me squarely on the Santos Obama train.

Overheard in Melbourne Central

Skanky Teen Girl #1: Ohmigawd, have youse read that book Twilight?

Skanky Teen Girl #2: Huh?

STG #1: Twilight? It's Stephanie Meyer? It's the BOMB.

STG #2: Books? Yuck?

STG #1: No, I know that, you know, teachers say you fall in love with a character in a book? And I'm all like gross? That's so dumb? But I swear, chapter one of Twilight and I just... you just... he's so...

STG #2: Shut up. Let's go to Supré .

Inky in the flesh... or at least in the plush

Look at who arrived on my desk at work today!

It's my very own Inky Mascot. Even his newspaper skin is made from dog-related newspaper articles!

Many thanks to Rochelle and her crafty madskills for brightening up my Wednesday.

Lili at the Gym

So I'm doing my sumo squats (VERY flattering, let me assure you), sweating, and listening to my iPod. The thing that I'm listening to makes me laugh, and the middle-aged woman doing lat pulldowns nearby glares at me with a 'oh the young people today and their gizmos, never get to play outside with the other children, shutting themselves off from the world with their LONG HAIR listening to these BEATLES and it's not even SPELT right DEATH OF CIVILISED SOCIETY' kind of face.

My question is: would she have been more or less disapproving if she'd known I was listening to the audiobook of Christopher Hitchens' God is Not Great?*

_____________

*interspersed with high energy, low quality numbers like Avril's Girlfriend.

More Awesome

1. US author Sherman Alexie, author of Diary of a Part Time Indian, is awesome. And he has a boner.


2. Oedipus, in 8 minutes, performed by vegetables.

Five Reasons why Mexicans are Awesome

1. Mexican food.

2. Corona.

3. The way that whenever characters on TV go to Mexico, everything is shot with a yellow filter.

4. 2006. All police officers in Nezahualcoyotl are required to attend a fortnightly book club in order to keep their jobs. This is a two-pronged approach: firstly, it broadens the minds of the cops (most of whom didn't stay at school past grade 5). And secondly, it proves to the public that not all cops are scheming low-lifers. "The principle is that a police officer who is cultured is in a better position to be a better police officer," says Jose Jorge Amador, the head of public security.

(replace the words "police officer" with the words "human being" and I reckon we've got ourselves a Charter for Life)

5. 2007. The reading program (it's called Literature On Alert) is still going strong. And still amazingly creative. They've translated some of the best works of Spanish literature into... into Cop. Like this, from Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude:

Many alfas later, in front of a 44 squad, Col. Aureliano Buendia had a 60 about that distant afternoon when his father 26 him to 62 ice.

They're police radio codes. They're giving this new version of the book to new recruits, who then, astonishingly, ASK FOR MORE BOOKS. In normal Spanish. And then they go home and buy books for their CHILDREN. One cop has published a novel. Another is studying Law in his spare time. They have creative writing classes and group storytelling sessions.

I think I want to be a Mexican cop.

Can you IMAGINE what life would be like if everyone, in every job, did this? What the world would be like? Sigh.

The Story of Beekeeper John and the Bees

On my summer holiday, I helped my Dad liberate some honey from his bees. These bees live down at our block of land at Glenaire, although we do have 2 hives on the roof in Clifton Hill as well.

Step 1: We approach the hive, with some trepidation. The Bees* are very suspicious.
Step 2: Beekeeper John puffs some smoke onto the hive, which calms the Bees.
Step 3: Beekeeper John takes 2 of the 8 frames from the hives. This is where the Bees make honeycomb and fill it with honey. Special Helper Lili stays in the car and observes.
Step 4: The Bees** get REALLY REALLY ANGRY because Beekeeper John is stealing their honey. It's lucky he's wearing his special Beekeeper Suit (btw, it's white because Bees are less likely to attack white. Except obviously in this case, as he gets five stings.)
Step 5: With a heated knife, we break the seals on the honeycomb.
Step 6: The frames are put into a centrifuge...
Step 7: ...and Beekeeper John spins them round and round so the honey flies out and drips down the sides.
Step 8: Then we just open up the tap on the bottom of the centrifuge and all the honey comes out. We strain it to get rid of the wax.Step 9: Nom nom nom. We got about 3 litres off those two frames.
Step 10: Then we go replace the empty honeycomb back in the hives. The Bees*** are still pretty pissed, but they are enjoying their lovely view.
-----------------------------
*Nerdy Bee Fact #1: Honey is the only natural foodstuff on earth that doesn't perish.

**Nerdy Bee Fact #2: Bees dance at each other to communicate the location of nectar sources.

***Nerdy Bee Fact #3: Taxes were paid with honey in Ancient Egypt.

Christmas at the Wilkinson House

8am. rinse turkey and season with lemon, garlic and herb butter.

8:30. toast and tea. open presents. 

9:15. turkey in oven. baste every 15 minutes for the next three hours.

9:30-11:30. make bread sauce and stuffing, prepare veggies, put pudding in to boil. shower, tidy, set table.

12:30. turkey out to stand. make gravy. crank up the oven for the veggies, stuffing and bread sauce. steam veggies. cut ham.

12:45. open the wine.

1pm. eat. crackers, more wine. terrible jokes.

2pm. swear you'll never eat again.

2:30. pudding. soak in rum on the plate, and then heat rum in a ladle, set on fire and pour liquid fire onto pudding. nom nom nom.

3pm. swear you'll never eat again.

4pm. chocolate santas and mince pies. pictionary, chinese checkers.

5pm. walk to the park (SLOWLY).

6pm. small nap.

7pm. turkey and stuffing sandwich.

7:30. swear you'll never eat again.

8pm. maybe one more mince pie.

8:30. It's a Wonderful Life on TV (or a Muppet Christmas Carol). Graze on nuts, chocolate santas, ham, leftover veggies. Try and learn the difference between port, muscat and tokay by having one glass of each.

11pm. Bed.

Merry Christmas, blogosphere!

Real or Fake? The Christmas Tree Dilemma

I love Christmas. I love everything about it. I can even tolerate a tiny bit of Jesus-lovin' at Christmas time (as long as it's the Away in a Manger kind of Jesus-lovin', not the 'Jesus wants me to carry a gun' kind).

And one of my favourite things about Christmas (apart from the food) is a Christmas tree. But there is the dilemma: real or fake?

Real is nice because it's... well, it's real. It is a tree and it smells nice. But there are a couple of things that are problematic with real ones, namely:

1. They go brown very quickly, and don't last until twelfth night.

2. Things live in them. Like snails who eat wrapping paper.

3. I am violently allergic to them, and can't be in the same room as one without medication.

and

4. Monterey pines, which are the only kind of Christmas tree available in Australia.

These are Christmas trees:

This, however, is not a Christmas tree:

It just isn't.

So I've gone fake. If I could get a Douglas fir or a Fraser, then I might be prepared to deal with the snails and the vast amounts of Claratyne. But not for a Monterey Pine.

Takadanobaba

We're staying in a ryokan in Takadanobaba.

The REALLY nerdy among you will know that Takadanobaba is the birthplace of AstroBoy (or Tetsuwan Atom, as he is known in Japan). When you get off the train here, the station PA plays the theme song. 

Also, me and AstroBoy share the same birthday.

Flying

If you ever have the opportunity, fly from New York to Tokyo*. The route goes north, up though the very top of Alaska, over miles and miles of pure white snow and frozen lakes, with absolutely no sign of people. Then a short stretch of ocean and then down through Siberia. This time with enormous cliffs and mountains of snow that drop dramatically into the ocean.

It was perfectly clear the whole way, and as we were flying west in the late afternoon, we had a perpetual sunset for most of the way. It was amazing.

------------------------------------

* But don't fly American Airlines. Ever. No matter how cheap it is. It's like being in jail. But I'm sure you get better food in jail. There isn't even any booze! Not even to BUY!

The True Story of a Squirl who Loved a Soldier

So I'm standing in line, ready to get on the ferry to Ellis Island. It's a long line, I'll be here for an hour and a half. It's also outside, and about 1 degree. Brr.

There's a gruff-looking soldier standing, supervising the line with disinterest. A Swedish guy goes over to him and asks in broken English where to buy tickets. The Gruff Soldier stares at him, and does this irritating thing where he refuses to anticipate what Swedish is trying to say, even though he's struggling, and also even though Gruff must get asked that question about a million times a day. He doesn't even smile or nod to indicate that he's listening. He insists on waiting until Swedish has managed a complete sentence before he jerks his head and mutters a few words.

'Nice,' I think. 'Very courteous. Bloody Americans.'

There is a Squirl* sniffing around the park, eating all the things that the tourists drop. He stops near Gruff and looks up at him, its Squirly nose all twitchy and adorable. Gruff looks down at Squirl and continues to look gruff.

Squirl is clearly disconcerted that Gruff didn't acknowledg

e him. So it shuffles a bit closer, and puts a little Squirly paw on Gruff's khaki trouser leg. Gruff exhibits no discernable emotion.

Squirl is just plain pissed now. Can't this stupid man see how CUTE the Squirl is? The fluffy tail? The twitchy nose? The adorable wide eyes?

Squirl does a little shudder of the tail, and then runs up the outside of Gruff's military issue trousers, grabs his belt, and fixes him with a beady and slightly pugnacious eye.

Gruff looks down at the adorable ball of fur attached to his hip pocket.

And he winks at Squirl.

--------------------------------------------

*Squirrel. Like this one:

Snow meets Squirl!

Spectacular

So I could tell you about the amazing off-Broadway play we went to last night, directed by Ethan Hawke. I could tell you about the awesome cast. Or I could tell you about the famous people who were mere seats away from us in the audience.

But I'm not going to.

Because tonight we went to the Radio City Music Hall Christmas Spectacular with the Rockettes. And it was made entirely of cheese, Christmas and Awesome. There were fireworks and midgets and children and camels (real camels) and ice-skating and toy soldiers and a whole bit where we put on 3D glasses to watch Santa fly his sleigh over New York. I cried with joy the whole way through - even the Jesus bit (but mostly because of the camels. also the donkey).

Thankful

So I had my first ever Thanksgiving on Thursday. So this is my list of what I'm giving thanks for:

1. THIS.

2. Maureen & co for making such an amazing feast.

3. Justine & Scott for introducing me to the aforementioned.

4. THIS.

5. Turkey.

6. Staying up til 5am New York time with S&J and Snazzle to read the words landslide, mauled, humiliated and crushing defeat.

7. Pumpkin pie.

Happy holidays, Australia. I am proud of you once more.

New York Minutes

Scott, Justine, Sarah and I are walking through the East Village on our way to dinner.

me: (randomly musing out loud) I should call David Levithan to see if we can get on the set of the Nick and Norah movie.

sarah: (pointing) Uh, isn't that him there?

David Levithan: Oh hai.

Yeah. They were shooting on that street. Unfortunately Michael Cera wasn't there (playing Nick), but this guy was, playing Jesus with no pants on.

(justine photographing david listening to movie).

Start Spreading the News...

So this is New York. It's cold, but not too cold. It's full of people and trains and shops and museums and Christmas trees.

At the moment we're staying in Queens with Sarah's Uncle Larry. His car's SatNav has a mind of its own, and is always trying to take us to other places.

Yesterday we visited the American Natural History Museum, which had this great way of explaining the universe. There's an enormous sphere (about 35 m across) called the Hayden Sphere. And you walk around it down a spiral ramp. At the each station on the ramp, there is a comparison, like 'if the Hayden sphere is the size of the known universe, then this marble is the size of the Virgo supercluster of galaxies'. As you move down you get smaller in powers of 10, until the comparison is 'if the Hayden sphere is a raindrop, this (small lump) is the size of a red blood-cell'. It was an amazing way of describing scale and understanding the universe.

Tomorrow is my First Ever Thanksgiving.

Lili is...

in Tokyo.

It's strange being back here. We caught the train past my old apartment, and went to some familiar shopping haunts today (not too fat for Japanese clothes!).

I also learnt that the difference between Western Breakfast and Japanese Breakfast is - Western Breakfast has a knife and fork. Otherwise it's still fish and miso (oiishi!).

Tomorrow - New York.

So what's this Golden Compass film all about then, eh?

There appears to be a rather big dummy-spit going on in the US about Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy. Here are some claims and comments:

In the last book, a boy and girl are depicted representing Adam and Eve and they kill God.

They are hoping that unsuspecting parents will take their children to See the movie, that they will enjoy the movie and then the children will want the books for Christmas. That's the hook. Pullman says he wants the children to read the books and decide against God and the kingdom of heaven.

I couldn't believe that in a children's book part of the story is about castration and female circumcision.

IF you're goal is to raise your child in a way that would cause them to grow and know God as He is described in the Bible, you should shield them from the writings.

I want more than anything else I want for my children, even their own happiness in this life, for them to believe in God, Who is their salvation.

i dont know much about pullman or his writings but the Word of God is the truth and the Bible says that Lieing is a sin.*By pullman writing this book he is lieing and he knows not the truth and the truth is not in him But God is truth and His word never fails and God has the final say. So Mr Pullman God wins you lose.

If a book is written by an atheist, the spirit of everything in that book is one of atheism.

Why risk filling your childs head with thoughts that you may have been able to prevent?

Why indeed? I'm pretty sure this stuff don't need any extra commentary. Just imagine me jumping up and down being REALLY angry. And then imagine some Stupid People complaining about books they CLEARLY HAVEN'T READ.

These comments are all from beliefnet, which i'm not going to link to because I don't want them all coming over here and dirtying up my blog with their petty and repressive thoughts.

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*So what does the Bible say about spelling?

Why I Love the State Library

People often ask me what my favourite part of the State Library is. Sometimes I say the dome, or the Mirror of the World exhibition. But I'm lying.

My real favourite place in the Library is right next to my staff kitchenette. It's this:

I like to think of it as a rather profound and existential statement on the human condition.

The Inevitable Post about Dumbledore

"The Potter books in general are a prolonged argument for tolerance,"

-JK Rowling

I find with all things Harry Potter, that I really enjoy it, until I start thinking, and then I get irritated. It was the same with Rowling's recent announcement about Dumbledore's sexuality.

At first I thought "awesome! positive gay characters in children's literature!"

And then I thought 4 things.

Thing #1

"He is my character. He is what he is and I have the right to say what I say about him."

Once your book is published, it doesn't belong to you anymore. It belongs to your readers. Let THEM tell YOU what happens next, not the other round.

Thing #2

"If I'd known it would make you so happy, I would have announced it years ago!"

No. You should have announced it years ago anyway. You should have put it in the books. You are probably the most influential human being in the world for young people. You have more power to influence young people's attitudes than the United Nations, Sesame Street and their parents combined. You had an opportunity to present them with a positive gay role model, and you chose not to, I assume, because you were scared of the reaction from the religious right.

Thing #3

[Rowling] didn't feel the need to be explicit about Dumbledore's sexual preferences because she wanted to focus on character development.

I'm going to skip over the fact that many gay people might find that sentence deeply offensive.

Dumbledore was brave. Dumbledore liked to stick it to the Man (no pun intended). Dumbledore was never afraid to tell anyone his opinion, no matter how powerful or dangerous they were.

Except no one in the Harry Potter world knew he was gay. Not Harry, or anyone else that we know of. So he was in the closet.

So if a man as open and brave as Dumbledore felt he needed to keep his sexuality a secret - exactly what kind of a world is the Potterverse? How homophobic must the world be for Dumbledore to conceal such an important part of his identity? That's not a "positive message" at all, or a "prolonged argument for tolerance". It's sad and regressive and scary.

Thing #4

Seriously. Like Rita Skeeter wouldn't have known and put it in her book.

Improve Your Vocabulary - help developing nations!

Check out Free Rice, a project from poverty.com

For every word you correctly label, poverty.com will donate 10 grains of rice to a developing nation.

It's procrastination AND worthy AND promotes literacy!

Advertising and Bunnies

My parents always mute the TV and go and do something whenever the ads come on. I do too. Most of the time.

Except ads are getting... well... really good.

Advertising companies are obviously hiring some fresh-thinking film school graduates to make amazing, expensive, innovative short films with brands attached. Like that (and I can't believe I'm saying this) that Golden Arches ad where all the kiddies climb out of the grown-ups tummies. And the eBay one with the shopping trollies and the snow (although I kinda don't like the way it implies that when you buy so

mething from eBay, it's never what you expected).

But my very favourite ads are the Sony Bravia ads*. You know, the first one was all the millions of little bouncy balls bouncing their rainbowy goodness down hills in San Francisco? And the one with the building being demolished with layers of coloured paint exploding out of each floor as it went?

The think I like the most about these ads is they REALLY do them. They really did let a million coloured bouncy balls loose in SF. And they really did explode a building full of paint. Bugger all this CG nonsense (sorry, Gollum).

Well now there's a new one. And it has bunnies in New York.

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*due to my leftiecommiepinko guilt at essentially giving Sony some free promotion, I need to link to this article about how plasma screens are really bad for the environment.

Freedom to Read

There is an organisation called the Happy Endings Foundation's East of England Cheering Committee.

What do they do? (I hear you ask.) Do they reunite orphans with their long lost parents? Do they find Handsome Princes for Lowly Peasant Girls? Do they provide support and counselling for failed Idol participants?

No. This lady and all her lovely, caring friends are out there to make sure that kids don't get too upset by books with sad endings.

Oh (you say), that's nice. They talk about why the Snowman melted, and why the puppy had to go to the Big Doghouse in the Sky.

No. They just burn all the books with sad endings.

(they WHAT?)

They burn them. With fire. They call it a Bad Book Bonfire, and they have them quite often.

So the newspaper article says that Lemony Snicket is on the pyre. But I'm thinking you'd have to torch The House at Pooh Corner, Charlotte's Web and Bridge to Terabithia as well. And let's not even mention The Velveteen Rabbit.

Now seems like a REALLY good time to mention that it's Banned Books Week.

This weekend, read a Sad Book or a Bad Book or a Banned Book to celebrate your Freedom to Read...

Memetastic

(from Penni)

1. My rock star name (first pet and current car)
Mishka Swift (hott. with two 't's.)

2. My gangsta name (ice cream flavour plus cookie, or biscuit)
Cookies & Cream Shortbread (sounds more like a fluffy bunny)

3. My fly girl name (first letter of first name, first three letters of last name)
L Wil (meh)

4. My detective name (favourite colour, favourite animal)
Green Bear (rawwr)

5. My soap opera name (middle name, city of birth)
Mei-Ling Melbourne (i can totally see her. she'd wear lots of awful faux-Chinese dresses)

6. My Star Wars name (first three letters of your last name, first two of your first name)
Wil-Li

7. My superhero name (second favourite colour, favourite drink, add “the”)
The Blue Water (She surfs. She wears a bikini. She's on the ABC. She's soft porn for teenagers...)

8. My Nascar name (first two names of my two grandfathers)
Jack James (I like this one a lot)

9. My stripper name (favourite perfume, favourite sweet)
Olene Musk Sticks (how foxy is that? She'd be a totally classy strippper)

10. My witness protection name (mother’s and father’s middle names)
Ann Richard

11. My weather anchor name (fifth grade teacher’s name, a major city beginning with the same letter)
Jeremy Jakarta

12. My spy name (favourite season/flower)
Spring Jasmine

13. Cartoon name (favourite fruit plus garment you’re wearing, with an “ie” or “y” added)
Cherry Red Bootsie (she'd be unreal)

14 Hippie name (what you ate for breakfast plus favourite tree)
Peanut Butter Toast Ornamental Cherry (well, if by 'hippy' you mean 'utter nonsense')

15. Your rockstar tour name (favourite hobby plus weather element, with “the”)
The Reading Fire. (sounds a bit Christian Rock...)

BY NOD LET IN

So, if Enid Blyton left secret codes in her books to tell the world how much she hated her first husband... well, that would be Made of Awesome.

But the "clues" that biographer Duncan McClaren found in the Mystery books are... unconvincing. To say the least:

1. Her husband used to drink in the cellar. The bumbling policeman got locked in the cellar. Once.
2. Her husband had no imagination. The bumbling policeman had no imagination.
3. Her husband's name was Hugh. The bumbling policeman's name was Theophilus Goon, which anagrams to O Hugh Spoilt One or O Let Hugh Poison.

Yeah? Well it also anagrams to Highest I Polo On and Eighth Oil Spoon. And Sleigh Hop In Too.

There are, in fact 32250 legitimate anagrams of Theophilus Goon. Yep. THIRTY TWO THOUSAND. Secret code my foot.

So let's give up on that particular "theory", and look at the awesome new promotion for the Wyoming Library.

Pros and Cons

Pro: singing karaoke with my peeps til the wee hours of the morning.

Con: my head today which is ouch.

Con: getting out of bed.

Pro: doughuts.

Con: going to the office on a Saturday.

Pro: (from The Age) "Apart from Ruth Park's Playing Beatie Bow, there are few stand-out young adult books with an Australian history background. Scatterheart is a notable exception."

Now it is time for a nap.

What I Know Is

1. Heroes is much better when you watch it in Spanish*. (it's pretty good normally, but Made of Awesome in Spanish, especially if you do funny voices over the top of it.)

2. Old people Baby Boomers are far more likely to engage in risk-taking behaviour than teenagers. Take note, Today Tonight and Jim Schembri: "Middle-aged hooligans!", not "teenage hooligans!". Binge drinkers? More than double the amount of boomers than teens/early 20s. Illegal drug-death? Five times more boomers. For shame. (via Justine)

3. The following statement could not be more untrue:

Children’s book protagonists skirt past private wounds; they are too busy exploring Narnia or Neverland and fending off witches, pirates and Indian chiefs — or hostile saleswomen at Bendel’s.
Only adult fiction indulges the grown-up delusion that children are interested in their parents’ personal lives.

Too busy exploring Neverland? Please. There's a reason why Mr Darling and Captain Hook is usually played by the same actor.

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* This may not be true if you actually speak Spanish.

Launch of a Lili

All of these photos were taken by the wondrous Snazzles, who is made of awesome.

Shortlisted!

Joan of Arc has been shortlisted for a NSW Premier's History Award!

It's the Young People's History Prize, and I'm shortlisted alongside John Nicholson (for Songlines and Stone Axes) and Peter Macinnis (Kokoda Track: 101 Days).

I'm awfully glad to be on a shortlist with such good company.

Scatterheart review

I promise I won't do this for every review. Just the ones that use the word "brilliant".

(from the Sydney Morning Herald)


Equally brilliant, but quite different again, is Scatterheart by Lili Wilkinson, children's literature critic, author and blogger (see, thinkingsofalili.blogspot.com). This epic tale begins in 1814 London, where 15-year-old Hannah Cheshire awaits trial for a crime she did not commit.
The descriptions of the prison itself, and of those imprisoned alongside Hannah, are vivid and gruesome. Hannah is convicted and sent to Australia on the convict ship the Derby Ram, another wonderfully realised setting. The hopelessness and injustice of the situation is palpable but Hannah proves surprisingly resilient, finding strength in new friendships and the possibility of a rediscovering old ones.
Wilkinson weaves the narrative together with great skill - from Hannah's present situation, back to when she led a life of wealth and privilege - revealing bit-by-bit how the naive young woman has ended up in such awful circumstances.
Also entwined with Hannah's story is a fairytale, Scatterheart, which bears many similarities to what's happening to Hannah, and allows the reader to hope that she will find her "happily ever after". The fairytale shares the same epic qualities as the novel, as well as creating a strong contrast between fantasy and gritty realism.