Monday musings on Australian literature: Quiet achievers 2, Barry Scott of Transit Lounge

Back in August, I wrote the first post in my Monday Musings sub-series on Quiet Achievers in Australia’s literary landscapes, meaning people like publishers, for example. My first post was on Terri-ann White from Upswell Publishing.

Of course, most of these people aren’t really Quiet Achievers. Those in the industry will know them, often well. However, for the general reading public, people in the industry are not necessarily well-known, hence this new little sub-series.

Barry Scott (Transit Lounge)

I have read and reviewed many books published by Transit Lounge over the years because they publish the sorts of books and authors I like. According to Wikipedia, Transit Lounge was founded in Melbourne in 2005 – 20 twenty years ago – by two librarians Barry Scott and Tess Rice. It is an independent Australian literary small press, which publishes literary fiction, narrative and trade non-fiction. Its focus is to “show the diversity of Australian culture”. Their website says they are

dedicated to the publication of exciting new fiction and non-fiction.  Our tastes are broad and encompass literary fiction and upmarket genre writing such as  psychological thrillers.  We have a particular interest in creative literary publishing that explores the relationships between East and West and entertains and promotes insights into diverse cultures.

As far as I can tell, Scott works full-time on the press, while artist and photographer Rice works part-time. In 2018, Scott was interviewed by Books+Publishing, and said their books:

go in search of the outsider, the marginalised, the immigrant, the different or the disappearing. We are always searching for what seems beautiful, unique, true, and isn’t afraid to push beyond the current zeitgeist in terms of themes or genre tweaking.

AS Patric, Black rock white city

And, they have been successful in doing so. AS Patrić won the Miles Franklin Award in 2016 for his immigrant story, Black rock white city (my review), and Jane Rawson’s “genre-tweaking” From the wreck (Bill’s review), won the 2017 Aurealis Award for best science fiction novel, with its blend of historical and science fiction. Many other Transit Lounge books have been listed or won significant awards, including, recently, Lisa Kenway winning the Ned Kelly Award for Debut Crime Fiction with All you took from me (my post).  We often wonder about the impact of awards on sales, so I was interested to see a comment by Scott, in the Sydney Morning Herald (SMH) after Patrić’s win, that the company overall “will be more visible” and that he had “already noticed more people following the company on Twitter and wanting to see its books”.

In 2023, Scott was interviewed by ABR (the Australian Book Review), and here we hear his motivation for getting into publishing:

I was involved with administering the Victorian Premier’s Literary Awards in 2003 when the Unpublished Manuscript Prize was conceived. … I became acutely aware that there were many talented writers unable to achieve publication. Transit Lounge always has been and always will be about giving some of those new writers a voice, as well as publishing more established authors.

A bit like Terri-ann White! That said, Transit Lounge’s focus in terms of what they publish has changed a little over the years. In the above-mentioned SMH article, Scott said that he initially ‘wanted to publish Australian authors writing about other cultures and people writing from overseas about here. “We have moved away from that a bit; we were a bit more travel based than we are now”.’

Once in the publishing game, it seems that Barry Scott was fully invested, that is, he became involved in the industry. He was a director of the Board of the now-unfortunately-defunct Small Press Network. In 2009, he visited the US for several weeks, under a Copyright Agency Limited grant to find out about small independent publishers there, including the state of the industry. You can read his report at Overland.

Meanwhile, I’ll return to the ABR interview. Over the years, it has run several interviews with publishers, and I will refer to those – if or when I focus on those people. It’s illuminating to see their different reactions to the questions. For example, when asked about the significance of book reviews, Scott replied:

They are gold, even when negative. As Oscar Wilde said, ‘There’s only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.’

Not all publishers responded so positively to this question, although most recognised that reviews mean something to authors. I recently listened to the interview with Graeme Simsion and Anne Buist on the Secrets from the Green Room podcast, and Simsion, a “data person” who has researched bookselling at some length, said that the main impact on sales comes from “word of mouth”. He didn’t talk about how you get that word-of-mouth started, but surely reviews, as Scott implies, are a contributing factor? I wonder whether the current fragmentation of book “reviewing” across traditional media, websites, blogs and social media, is, in fact, resulting in increased “word of mouth” exposure?

I have a few Transit Lounge books on my TBR, as I write, including Carmel Bird’s latest novel – a foray into historical fiction with Crimson velvet heart, set in Versailles at the end of the 17th century.

I’ll conclude, however, with a comment made by another author. In the blog, In Their Own Write, Mandy Sayer says

Barry Scott at Transit Lounge is a truly collaborative publisher, and I’m grateful for the opportunity to work with him.

This was August 2025, just before the publication of her memoir, No dancing in the lift. It seems that the fire is still burning in Scott.

Finlay Lloyd 20/40 Publishing Prize 2025: Winners announced

In August I wrote a progress report on Finlay Lloyd’s 20/40 Publishing Prize, a prize in which I have special interest because I love novella-length writing and the publisher behind this prize, Finlay Lloyd.

So just a quick recap on the prize: 20/40 is a manuscript award, with the prize being publication. It is not limited to debut or young or women or any other subgroup of writers, as some manuscript awards are. However, it does have its own criteria, which is implied in its name. It is for prose writing that is between 20,000 and 40,000 words. Outside these criteria – prose and length – the submissions can be from “all genres … including hybrid forms”. The aim is to choose two winners, preferably one fiction and one non-fiction, as they did last year.

And now, the Shortlist and Winners

The shortlist, announced on Finlay Lloyd’s website, was:

  • Angus GauntAnna: a novel which “steps with deep insight into the dire circumstances of a girl who has little more than her own inner resources to deal with sustained privation and the threat of violence”.
  • Kim KellyTouched: “a memoir that uses self-deprecation and humour to turn her own experience of intense panic attacks into a lively and profound reflection on the prevalent role of anxiety in so many of our lives.”
  • Monica RaszewskiMystic Vera and Lottie the shadow puppet: another novel, this one “centred on eccentric, flighty, Vera who dances with happy abandon around her sister, Lottie’s flailing attempts to control her excesses.
  • Paul TooheyBad face: an historical novel “set on the late 19th Century US frontier, where totemic violence between settlers, cattle ranchers and rustlers, and native Americans is played out with vital gothic intensity”.

And the winners are Angus Gaunt’s Anna and Kim Kelly’s Touched. You can read more about them on the Winner Announcement page. The judges were last year’s winners – Sonya Voumard, Penelope Cottier and Nick – plus Finlay Lloyd author John Clancy and the publisher Julian Davies.

The judges liked Gaunt’s novel because “the extreme circumstances of this story are written with a quiet yet incisive humanity”. Gaunt as born and educated in England, coming to Australia in 1987. He now lives in Dharug/Guringai country on the northern edge of Sydney. He has been published and nominated for awards in Australia, England and Ireland.

They liked Kelly’s memoir because of its “breadth of understanding—of the author’s own crazily complex family, of the wider issue of anxiety across society, and of her own voyage as a highly competent yet vulnerable being in a worryingly unhinged world”. Kelly was one of the two inaugural winners of this prize with her historical fiction novella, The Ladies Rest and Writing Room (my review). She lives and works on Wiradjuri and Eora lands in central west NSW and Sydney. Kelly has written historical fiction, short stories and essays, and is completing a PhD in Literature at Macquarie University. She is also a book editor (as Kim Swivel).

I was able to attend the launch of the 2023 and 2024 winners, as they were held in Canberra. This year, however, because both authors have Sydney bases, the launch will be held there next week when I’m in Melbourne, so I will not be able to report on the winners’ conversation, unfortunately. However, I do have the books and plan to read both for this year’s Novellas in November. And, there is an excellent interview with the authors available RIGHT NOW on the above-linked Winner Announcement page!

I am thrilled that this prize has now passed its third year, and hope it continues for many years more. If you like the sound of these books, and would like to support them (and the prize), you can order the books at Finlay Lloyd (though great bookstores will carry them too.) The recommended retail price is AUD26, but you can buy them from FL at AUD23.40 each (plus postage).

Congratulations to Finlay Lloyd and this year’s winners.

Monday musings on Australian literature: Australian writers and AI

Today I saw an Instagram post promoting the latest interview on Irma Gold and Karen Viggers’ podcast, Secrets From the Green Room. The interview was with Emily Maguire, and the promo shared this:

Other people of my age who’ve been working at something for as long as I’ve been working at writing – they have a better lifestyle than me. They’re able to live in a way that I can’t, even though I feel successful. (Emily Maguire)

Emily Maguire, An isolated incident

Emily Maguire should indeed feel successful. She has written seven novels, and three works of nonfiction. In 2013 she was named one of The Sydney Morning Herald Best Young Australian Novelists. Her fifth novel, An isolated incident (my review) was shortlisted for several significant literary awards including the Stella Prize and the Miles Franklin Literary Award. Her latest novel, Rapture, won the Queensland Literary Award for Fiction and was listed for other awards.

And yet, she doesn’t have the same lifestyle as her peers. This brings me to the issue which is currently causing concern among writers internationally, including those in Australia. I’m talking of course about the AI industry’s use of copyrighted material to “train AI models”. This issue has been bubbling along for some time now and I’m not going to track it all here. The Conversation published an article in September summarising the current state of play in Australia, including these points:

  • The Productivity Commission’s interim report (published in August) “proposed a text and data mining exception to the Australian Copyright Act, which would allow AI training on copyrighted Australian work”.
  • The Minister for the Arts, Tony Burke, said in that same month that the government had “no plans, no intention, no appetite to be weakening” our copyright laws. 
  • Both the Australian Society of Authors (ASA) and the Australian Publishers Association oppose the the Productivity Commission’s proposal. The publishing industry is not entirely opposed to AI, but recognises significant legal and ethical challenges. The Australian Publishers Association wants government policies on AI to prioritise “a clear ethical framework, transparency, appropriate incentives and protections for creators”. They want a balanced policy which enables both AI development and cultural industries to flourish.

The concerns make sense to me. I am a librarian by profession, which means that freedom of information is one of my founding principles. It also means that I love the Internet and all that it offers us in terms of being able to find (discover) the things we want to know. However, this doesn’t mean that I believe these things should come at a cost to others.

So, what do librarians think about this? In February this year, the National Library of Australia published its Artificial Intelligence Framework. It recognises that “AI technologies present opportunities for developing new ways to collect, understand and share the collection” (p. 3) but also that:

Responsible AI governance includes recognition of legal rights holders and their valid commercial interests. Where legal frameworks for AI are evolving or unclear, any development will proceed with caution and consent from relevant stakeholders and copyright owners will be sought. This includes engaging with external stakeholders such as the NED Steering Group, publishers and independent publishing communities. We will not on-sell or share in-copyright data under any circumstances. As discussed below, we recognise the rights of Indigenous peoples to control their own cultural and intellectual property.

And, under their principles, they include that “We will always respect Australian copyright law and protect valid commercial interests”.

Meanwhile, Australian authors and musicians spoke last week at a Senate committee hearing on the Productivity Commission proposal to introduce the exception to the Copyright Act to allow AI training. Anna Funder, Thomas Keneally and other authors spoke powerfully on the importance of copyright to sustaining writers’ careers. I loved that Keneally invoked Frank Moorhouse, the author who was significant in the development of Copyright law in Australia, but he also made his own points:

It’s not copy-charity. It’s not copy-privilege. It’s not copy-indulgence. It’s copyright.

Anna Funder concluded her comments with:

If Australia would like books to delight itself, to know itself, to be itself, and not a source of raw materials for American or Australian computer companies, we will need books. But without copyright, no one will write them.’

(I saw these on Instagram, but you can read a summary on the ASA’s page.)

AMPAL, the Australia Music Publishers Association Limited, posted on Instagram that:

If AI needs our songs to learn … then our songwriters deserve to earn.

Life is tough for creatives, and yet what they create for us is, as one person told me many years ago, what makes life worth living! (Besides our family and friends of course.) So, I stand with Australian creatives in their fight to retain the right to say who can use their material, and how, and to be recompensed for that.

Prime Minister’s Literary Awards 2025, Winners

In lieu of my usual Monday Musings post, I am reporting on the 2025 Prime Minister’s Literary Awards which were announced this evening, and which I attended via the live-stream from the Creative Australia website. I shared the short list several weeks ago, so I won’t repeat those here.

The awards ceremony was a long one, and I suspect longer than planned, because Mr Gums saw the winners come through on his phone before they had all been announced. The problem, I’m guessing, of automatic scheduling!

The event was emceed by an Australian comedian, writer, actor, and television presenter, Alex Lee, whom I don’t know. (I guess you are going to say, “where have you been?”) She injected lightness and humour into the opening, a bit like you see at America’s Academy Awards. Like the Academy Awards, some of the jokes worked and some didn’t. The thing is, I suppose, different jokes will work for different people.

She did say, however, that there were 645 entries this year, 100 more than last year. That says something, I presume, about the health of writing and publishing in Australia.

 There were then two speakers, the Chair of the Writing Australia Council, Larissa Behrendt, who commented on the appropriateness of holding the Awards at the NLA which embodies the “the heart of our nation’s stories”. She said that the Awards “celebrate writing, reading ideas and the voices that shape who we are”, and she thanked Selina Walker for her welcome. She reminded us of the 65,000 years of storytelling in our country.

Behrendt then introduced the Minister for the Arts (among his many hats), Tony Burke, whose passion for the arts is palpable to anyone who hears him speak. Behrendt noted his appreciation of the centrality of First Nations Arts to Australia’s cultural policy. And said that this is a minister who shows up at opening nights, awards nights, festivals and so on, because he deeply understands why the Arts matter.

I couldn’t possibly share all that Burke said. He recognised the main players, commenting first on the generosity of the word “welcome” Selina Walker’s Welcome to Country. He thanked Australian Greens leader, Sarah Hanson-Young, who was present and who has been there, in support, through the whole cultural policy journey. He thanked Alex Lee for injecting a bit of fun, and he acknowledged Larissa Behrendt (who is Chair of the National Library of Australia Council) and Clare Wright (who is Chair of the Council of the National Museum of Australia.) He noted that it has been a long time since a writer has chaired the NLA’s Council, and an historian that of the NMA. (I groaned inwardly as we are still waiting for an archivist – or appropriate professional – to chair the council of the National Film and Sound Archive!) But all progress in this sphere of Boards/Council appointments is good!

Burke talked at some length about the importance of the arts and, what he believes to be the strength of the Government’s Creative Australia cultural policy. He talked particularly about writing. he argued that the ability to learn from writing is the gift “we celebrate tonight”. He suggested that writing is the only art form that we don’t react to with physicality. Music, Dance, Visual Arts, and so on, engage through the senses – sight, hearing – but writers work on our imaginations, writing lives within our minds. (There are some debates in this, I think, but I still like his point.)

He also quoted from three books to illustrate his points. First was from Kelly Canby’s children’s book, A leaf called Greaf, which ends on the idea of things being held in the heart forever, and which is the gift writers give us. Then he mentioned Fiona McFarlane and Michelle de Kretser who spoke to untold stories. Highway 13 deals ingeniously with the fact that we hear more about the person who should not be remembered rather than the stories of those affected by that person’s actions. Then he quoted from Theory and practice, which I will abbreviate to “that was the meaning of assimilation … it trained us to disappear”. Writers, he said, make sure that people are seen. (For me, though, he raised yet another idea to explore in this wonderful novel.)

There was more, but I think that’s a great point on which to end the introductions.

And the winners

  • Fiction: Michelle de Kretser, Theory & practice (Text, my review)
  • Poetry: David Brooks, The other side of daylight: New and selected poems (UQP)
  • Nonfiction: Rick Morton, Mean streak (Fourth Estate)
  • Australian history: Geraldine Fela, Critical care: Nurses on the frontline of Australia’s AIDS crisis (UNSW Press)
  • Children’s literature: Peter Carnavas, Leo and Ralph (UQP)
  • Young adult: Krystal Sutherland, The invocations (Penguin)

Links on authors’ names are to my posts on these authors. (I loved that Children’s Literature winner, Peter Carnavas, is a teacher-librarian. Go him.)

Now, this being the Prime Minister’s Literary Awards and, anyhow, this being a gathering of writers who as a group are passionate about ideas, many political comments were made, lengthening the supposedly short speeches. These comments addressed what is happening in Gaza, the issue animal rights, the treatment of human beings by government social policy, and the gutting of humanities and humanities research in Australian universities. In the case of the last, Geraldine Fela’s video speech had been cut off at the allotted time, but she had asked Clare Wright to complete her speech, which Wright did!

Thoughts anyone?

Monday musings on Australian literature: Creative Australia Awards in Literature

Creative Australia is the – how shall we say it – rebranded Australia Council for the Arts / Australia Council. Under whatever name it has, this is the body that serves as the major arts funding and advisory body for the Australian Government. You can read its history on Wikipedia if you are interested.

The Australia Council Awards were established around 1981, and over time have been offered in various categories, but Literature has been one of them since at least 1987, again under different guises. These awards recognise outstanding and sustained contributions to arts and culture across a range of disciplines, including literature, music, dance, but sorting out a full and proper history of these awards is not easy. They are now named under the Creative Australia umbrella. The writers who have been given these awards include novelists, poets, nonfiction writers and children’s literature writers. They include First Nations Writers, like Ruby Langford Ginibi, Herbert Wharton and Bruce Pascoe as well as Alexis Wright.

In the lists below, links are to posts I have written on the writers.

Creative Australia Awards for Lifetime Achievement in Literature

As far as I can gather, the “Creative Australia Awards for Lifetime Achievement in Literature” dates just from 2023, and acknowledges “the achievements of eminent literary writers over the age of 60 who have made an outstanding and lifelong contribution to Australian literature”.

Australian Council Awards for Lifetime in Literature

ArtsHub calls the 2021 award that went to Arnold Zable a “Lifetime Achievement in Literature” award, and says he follows writers like Malouf and Garner in receiving this award. Earlier research I did suggested that in 2015 it was also called a “Lifetime Achievement award”.

Previous Award Recipients

You will see that this section of my list includes “awards” and “fellowships”. I could have just included the “award” but decided the fellowships might be interesting too. You might notice that some women are listed under their “married name”, like Judith Wright as Judith Wright McKinney, and Mary Durack as Mark Durack Miller. In the 1990s!

  • 2013: Australia Council Award for Lifetime Achievement in Literature: Frank Moorhouse
  • 2012: Australia Council Award for Lifetime Achievement in Literature: Herbert Wharton
  • 2011: Emeritus Award: Robert Gray
  • 2010: Emeritus Award: Peter Kocan
  • 2007: Emeritus Award: Christopher Koch and Gerald Murnane
  • 2006: Emeritus Award: Alice Wrightson
  • 2005: Emeritus Award: Ruby Langford Ginibi
  • 2004: Emeritus Award: Margaret Scott
  • 2003: Emeritus Award: Don’o Kim and Barry Oakley
  • 2001: Emeritus Award: Dimitris Tsaloumas and Amy Witting 
  • 2000: Emeritus Award: Donald (Bruce) Dawe and John Hooker
  • 2000: Emeritus Fellowship: Eric Charles Rolls
  • 1999: Emeritus Award: James Henderson and Eleanor Witcombe
  • 1998: Emeritus Award: Peter Porter
  • 1997: Emeritus Award: Boro Wongar
  • 1996: Emeritus Award: Rosemary Dobson and David Martin
  • 1996: Emeritus Award: Dorothy Hewitt
  • 1995: Emeritus Fellowship: Victor Beaver, Michael M Cannon, Barbara Jefferis, Ray Lawler, Vincent Noel Serventy, Ivan Southall, and Maslyn Williams
  • 1993: Emeritus Award: Ivan Southall and Judith Wright McKinney
  • 1993: Emeritus Fellowship: Hugh Geddes Atkinson 
  • 1992: Emeritus Award: Mary Durack Miller
  • 1992: Emeritus Fellowship: John Blight, Beatrice Bridges, David Rowbotham, Harold Stewart
  • 1990: Emeritus Fellowship: Dorothy Green and Roland Robinson
  • 1989: Emeritus Fellowship: Jack Lindsay
  • 1987: Emeritus Fellowship: Olaf Ruhen

Monday musings on Australian literature: Trove treasures (14), Louise Mack, the “colonial”

Help Books Clker.com
(Courtesy OCAL, via clker.com)

Early in 2023, I created a Monday Musings subseries called Trove Treasures, in which I share stories or comments, serious or funny, that I come across during my Trove travels. Having posted on her two sisters the last two Mondays, I thought it might be fun to round off the series with two references made to Louise Mack in contemporary newspapers, regarding her being a “colonial writer”. They are interesting because of what they directly and indirectly say about Australians as colonials.

The first is a review of her debut novel, The world is round, which was first published in 1896 and which I have reviewed. Published in Hobart’s The Mercury on 17 June 1896, It is scathing:

Louise Mack, The world is round

A very different book, though also of colonial authorship, is “The world is round,” by Louise Mack, of Sydney, with which Mr. T. Fisher Unwin, of London, commences a new series of short sixpenny novels. It is a mere skeleton of a story, trivial and disconnected, and making use of that cheap criticism of society foibles, of which shallow natures are so fond, to quite a nauseating extent. Whole pages of misspelt words are given to show, most superfluously, how the young Englishman, and colonials who imitate him, mispronouce the mother tongue, while the caricatures of people themselves are, it seems likely, reproductions of those whom she has really met in society, and for which she certainly deserves all-round ostracism. The book is only 6d., but is not worth that small sum.

Not all thought this. As I shared in my post, another commentater at the time said that “The reader’s report” for this novel called it a “brilliant little study of two men and two women, sparkling and witty, and told in a graphic style”. I wonder who was that reviewer in The Mercury? (The previous paragraph comprises high praised for another Australian novel, Lockwood Goodwin: A tale of Irish life by L. Anderson. It has pretty much disappeared from view, though Amazon has it in a British Library digital edition.) Meanwhile, looking at The world is round from over a century later, I found it a delightful read that still had plenty to offer.

Anyhow, writing about her after her death for Melbourne’s Advocate on 4 December 1935, “P.I. O’L” (the journalist and poet, Patrick Ignatius Davitt O’Leary) included this paragraph:

“One of the best of colonial writers,” was the description English critics in a hurry used to apply to Louise Mack. The term “colonial” was a sort of separative mark. It was meant to indicate that she was not up to the “home” standard, and this in the face of the strident fact that many English writers, men and women alike, inferior to her were accorded an acclaim which she merited much more than they. And speaking of this term “colonial” — English critics still use it. Sir John Squire, for instance, is apt at any moment to think that it really applies. Such a thought, of course, manifests one of the numerous limitations of English critics of Australian authors. 

A back-handed compliment from the English, but Australian-born O’Leary makes no bones about his thoughts on the “colonial” matter.

I have talked about the “cultural cringe” before. These two examples demonstrate the sort of thinking that Australians were reading, and that fed into this cringe.

2025 Mark and Evette Moran Nib Literary Award shortlist

This is a quick post because I’m on the road in Japan, but I do like the Mark and Evette Moran Nib Literary Awards, and their shortlist has just been announced, so here is a quick post.

Just to recap if you don’t recollect my previous posts on this award, it is not limited by genre or form – that is both fiction and non-fiction are eligible. The judging is based on “on literary merit, research, readability, and value to the community”. Research and value to the community are interesting criteria. I have written about it before, so if you are interested in its origins and intentions please check that link. Previous winners include historians Alison Bashford and Claire Wright, biologist Tim Low, novelists Helen Garner and Delia Falconer, and journalist Gideon Haigh.

Each of the six finalists receive the $1500 Alex Buzo Shortlist Prize and are eligible for the $4,000 Nib People’s Choice Prize, which, by definition, is awarded by popular vote. The winner will receive $40,000.

The judges for the 2025 award are Sydney based writer, editor and arts producer Lliane Clarke, publisher and award-winning editor Julia Carlomagno, and author and publishing professional Angela Meyer (whom I’ve reviewed a few times here). They said, according to the email I received from Waverley Council which manages the award:

“In reading the nominations this year, we noted the effort, dedication and often bravery required to delve with such depths into topics of personal, political and cultural significance. The shortlisted books display great passion and commitment on the part of the authors and publishers, often years and decades of work, and they are all thoughtfully constructed, absorbing, moving works of literature with great value to the community”.

The email also said that this is the Award’s 24th year, and describe it as “one of Australia’s most high-profile and valuable book prizes, celebrating the most compelling research-based literature published annually”.

The 2025 shortlist

Last year I had, unusually for me, read two of the six shortlisted books, but this year we are back to the status quo! That is, I’ve read none, though most interest me. There were 174 submissions.

  • Helen Ennis (ACT), Max Dupain (biography)
  • Amy McQuire (Qld), Black witness (nonfiction/essays)
  • Rick Morton (NSW), Mean streak (nonfiction)
  • Samah Sabawi (Vic), Cactus pear for my beloved (memoir) 
  • Martin Thomas (ACT), Clever men (history)
  • Tasma Walton (WA), I am Nannertgarrook (historical fiction)

This list seems to be a bit broader, as in less life-writing heavy, than it has sometimes been, but like last year, there is just one work of fiction.

You can vote for the People’s Choice award at this link, but voting closes on October 9.

Have you read any of these books?

Monday musings on Australian literature: Forgotten writers 14, Gertrude Mack

Gertrude Mack is the third of the Mack literary sisters, and by far the least known, though at the time she was well-recognised, with her activities and thoughts frequently reported in the newspapers. Her “disappearance” from view is most likely because, unlike her sisters, all her writing was for newspapers and magazines. She did not have one published book to her name. It makes a big difference to a writer’s longevity in the literary world.

As with many of my Forgotten Writers posts, I researched Gertrude Mack for the Australian Women Writers’ blog. This post is a minor revision of the one I posted there. So, who was she …

Gertrude Mack

Gertrude Mack (?-1937) was an Australian journalist and short story writer. The youngest of thirteen children – who included five daughters – Mack was born in Morpeth, New South Wales, to Irish-born parents, Jemima (nee James) Mack and the Rev’d Hans Mack. As a child, she lived in various parts of Sydney including Windsor, Balmain and Redfern, and was educated at Sydney Girls’ High School. Two of her older sisters also had literary careers, Louise Mack (see my posts) and Amy Mack (whom I featured last week). These sisters have been documented in Dale Spender’s Writing a new world: Two centuries of Australian women writers (1988) and by their niece Nancy Phelan in the Australian Dictionary of Biography, but neither Spender nor Phelan mention Gertrude. According AustLit, a diary of Mack’s is included in Phelan’s papers at the State Library of New South Wales. Curious.

This dearth of formal biographical information meant relying heavily, for this post, on Trove, where articles written by Mack abound. They tell of a curious and adventurous woman who was able to report firsthand on those challenging 1920s and 30s in Europe and the Americas. For example, in 1924, four years after the Mexican Revolution, she decided to go to Mexico City, something her American friends thought “a wild whim”. She writes for The Sydney Morning Herald (22 November 1924), that “according to American newspapers, it did seem a risk, but I knew their way of making any Mexican news appear hectic”. In the end, it does prove difficult, and she fails on her first attempt. She admits that she was not prepared for the poverty she sees in Juarez, just over the border from El Paso, and “was not yet accustomed to the unshaven Mexican”, but she later wrote admiring pieces on the country.

Mack spent eight years in London from around 1929 to 1937, and returned at least once for a few weeks in 1933. It was a difficult time in Europe, and The Sun (18 June 1933) reports that she had found “the same sense of strain in all the European countries, and this has been intensified more recently by the war menace, which seems to be very real.” I have not been able to find an image of her, but during this visit, sister Louise described her in “Louise Mack’s Diary” in the Australian Women’s Weekly (17 June 1933):

Tall, very slight and svelte, in a smart black frock of her own making, her hair marcelled, her big, grey eyes looking big-ger than ever under the glasses she had taken to lately. Elegant? Yes, certainly.

An interesting little fact which came up in a couple of the newspaper reports of this 1933 visit was that on her voyage she, and two other “matrons” had been in charge of 48 children, who had been selected for the Fairbridge Farm School to be taught various branches of farming. Sydney’s The Sun (June 18) explained that “the children, whose ages ranged from eight to twelve years, included both boys and girls, and were chosen by the selection committee of the Child Immigration Society, which body exercises the greatest care in choosing only suitable potential citizens for Australia, says Miss Mack”. If you haven’t heard about Fairbridge, check out Wikipedia. Miss Mack might have had faith in it, but the whole scheme was marred by dishonesty, and worse, child abuse.

Gertrude returned again to Australia in 1937. There was much interest in her return, with newspapers reporting on her thoughts from the moment she first touched the continent in Western Australia. The West Australian (3 March 1937) wrote that she had passed through Fremantle in the “Orama”, and quoted her as saying Australian writers were doing well in London. “Henry Handel Richardson was acclaimed by many critics as the finest writer of the day”; and Helen Simpson (my first Forgotten Writer) “had taken up broadcasting work in addition to her writing”. She said Nina Murdoch had had success with Tyrolean June and Christina Stead with Seven poor men of Sydney. The paper observed, tellingly, that “undoubtedly Australian writers were getting more recognition in London than in their own country”.

It also quoted Mack as saying she believed England was interested in stories about Australia, but that their interest depended “entirely on the topic of the story.” Unfortunately Australian writers “usually presented the drab side of the life of the country and laid too much stress on the droughts and the drawbacks” and “the frequent descriptions of struggles against drought and the hardships of Australian life gave readers a wrong impression of the country”. Consequently, readers “did not realise that the country had a normal life, with a bright social side, and the mass in England seldom knew that there was very fertile land in Australia”. According to Mack, “German people knew more about Australia and were more interested than the people of any other country”.

Adelaide’s News (6 March 1937) took up the issue of how Australia is viewed, but with a slightly different tack, writing:

“It would be difficult,” said Miss Mack, “to make the average uneducated English man or woman believe that there is, in Australia, such a thing as culture. English people would be surprised if they could have a glimpse of real country life on a big station.
The only way to overcome this wrong idea.” she said, “is by our literature, which has not yet developed fully.”

Although she was talking about staying in Australia for just 6 months, it appears that Gertrude Mack was seriously ill when she returned in 1937. She visited her brother C. A. Mack, of Mosman, but died in a private hospital in Darlinghurst on Wednesday 31 March and was buried at the Northern Suburbs Crematorium on the Friday.

A few days later “an appreciation” written by “W.B.”  appeared in The Sydney Morning Herald (6 April). W.B. It’s a moving tribute:

To those of us who had the happiness and the privilege of an intimate association with Gertrude Mack over a long period, abroad and in Australia, her death has meant a very poignant personal loss and sorrow. Her happy outlook on life, her faculty for perceiving the humorous side of things, and her sensitive reactions to atmosphere, made her a delightful companion, and she made friends among every class of people, whether they were foreigners or people of her own race. She had an unusual flair for getting at the heart of the interesting aspects of life and affairs, and this, added to her other gifts, enabled her to write such charming and interesting sketches, stories, and interviews. Her short stories and sketches were invariably the outcome of personal contacts. She could paint engaging pictures of people and places, and make them real to her readers. She also possessed outstanding musical ability, and might have won distinction as a pianist had she elected to take up music as a profession, for she had a fine critical perception and a rare appreciation of the true values in music.

She also translated stories from Russian, collaborating with Serge Ivanov to publish in English a volume of N. A. Baikov’s tales for children. Gertrude Mack was a fascinating woman, and would be a worthy subject for a biography – either on her own, or as part of a larger biography on the Mack sisters.

Sources

Monday musings on Australian literature: Forgotten writers 13, Amy Mack

In the first decades of the 20th century, a family of sisters made some splash on Australia’s literary scene. I have already written about the eldest of them – Louise Mack – but there were also Amy (this post’s subject) and Gertrude, all of whom appeared in newspapers of the time as writers of interest. They were three of the thirteen children of their Irish-born parents, Rev. Hans Hamilton and his wife Jemima Mack. As with many of my Forgotten Writers articles, I researched Amy Mack for the Australian Women Writers’ blog, where we have several posts devoted to her.

Amy Mack

Amy Eleanor Mack (1876-1939) was a writer, journalist, and editor. She was six years younger than the more famous Louise, and, says Phelan in the Australian dictionary of biography, was “less temperamental … and lived more sedately”, which is not to say she lived a boring life.

Mack began work as a journalist soon after leaving school, and from 1907 to 1914 was editor of the ‘Women’s Page’ of the Sydney Morning Herald. She married zoologist Launcelot Harrison, in 1908, and in 1914, they went to England where he did postgraduate work at Cambridge, before serving in Mesopotamia as advisory entomologist to the British Expeditionary Force. While he was away, Mack worked in London as publicity officer for the ministries of munitions and food.

The couple returned to Sydney after the war, with Launce becoming professor of zoology at the University of Sydney, and Amy continuing her literary career among other roles and activities. They did not have children. According to Phelan, after her husband died she continued to publish occasional articles, but her impulse to write faded as her health declined. She died of arteriosclerosis in 1939.

Works

Amy Eleanor Mack’s subject was nature, and she wrote about it in newspapers and books, for adults and children. Australian ecologist, Manu Saunders, writes on her blog that:

Australia has a wonderful heritage of nature writers, many working before nature writing was ‘a thing’. The national collection of Australian children’s books about native wildlife is inspiring. Even more inspiring, many of Australia’s best nature stories were written in the early-mid 19th century, and mostly by women.

And one of those women, she continues, was Amy Eleanor Mack. (I have written before on one of our early colonial nature writers, the pioneering Louisa Atkinson.)

Book cover for Bushland stories

Mack’s first publications were two collections of essays, A bush calendar (1909) and Bush days (1911), which were compiled from articles she’d written for the Sydney Morning Herald. She also wrote two popular children’s books, Bushland stories (1910) and Scribbling Sue, and other stories (1915). Wikipedia lists 14 books, many of which were first published in newspapers, but all of which have nature-related titles, like The Fantail’s house (1928) and The gum leaf that flew: And other stories of the Australian bushland (1928).

Her books were well-reviewed in the newspapers of the time. Her first, A bush calendar, was described by Sydney’s The Farmer and Settler (26 November 1909), as charming, “a sympathetic review of bird life and plant life in the Australian bush during the four seasons of the year”. But what is interesting is what they say next:

It is the kind of book that ought to be on every girl’s bookshelf, and every thoughtful and intelligent boy’s also, being not only an exceedingly pleasant thing to look at and to read, but one calculated to induce in many a desire to get to know more of nature in some of her sweetest phases.

I’m intrigued by the gender differentiation – “every” girl, but only “every thoughtful and intelligent boy”. These sorts of insights into other times make researching Trove such a joy. Anyhow, the review also suggests that it would be “a delightful remembrancer for Australians abroad”. A year later, on 26 November 1910, Sydney’s The World’s News, reviewed Mack’s children’s book, Bushland stories, calling it an improvement on A bush calendar. It comprises a “collection of fables, allegories, fairy tales, or whatever one chooses to call them” which, the News says, has “created a folklore for young Australians”. In it, Mack personifies nature, with birds, beasts and fish all acting and speaking “like rational beings”. Each story has a moral but there is none of the “preachiness, which many youthful readers shy at”.

Reviews of later books continue in a smilier vein. In 1922, on 6 December, Lismore’s Northern Star writes about Wilderness, which, it says,”tells in a most interesting way of the fascinations of a piece of land which once had been a garden, planted with fruit trees and roses, but which has been neglected until the bush reclaimed it for its own”. This is the book that Saunders writes about in her blog in 2017. The book had been originally published in three parts in the Sydney Morning Herald. Saunders explains that it

tells the story of an unnamed patch of wild vegetation in Sydney (Mack never names the city, but given the original publisher and the wildlife she describes, it seems pretty obvious). Mack describes the plot so vividly and intimately that you imagine yourself there. You can visualise Nature reclaiming this plot of land, left untended after the keen gardener who owned it passed away.

Saunders then describes its content, including examples of the nature Mack describes, as well as her attitude to it and her observations. Saunders was surprised but “weirdly” comforted to find conservation messages that are still relevant today embedded within the book.

Legacy

Australian feminist Dale Spender, in her book Writing a new world, says a little about Amy Mack, though she spends more time on Louise. However, she makes a point about the Mack sisters and their peers, Lilian and Ethel Turner:

Lilian and Ethel Turner, Louise and Amy Mack were part of a small group of spirited literary pioneers who at very early ages adopted public profiles in relation to their work. When they moved into the rough and tumble world of journalism – when they entered competitions, won prizes, and published best-selling novels before they were barely out of their teens – they broke with some of the long-established literary conventions of female modesty and anonymity. They sought reputations and in doing so they show how far women had become full members of the literary profession: they also helped to pave the way for the equally youthful and exuberant Miles Franklin whose highly acclaimed novel, My Brilliant Career (1901), was published when the author was only twenty-one.

Ever political, Spender argues that had it “been brothers (and ‘mates’)” who created the sort “colourful and creative community” these sisters did, and achieved their level of literary success, we would have heard of them. Books would have been written about ‘their “literary mateship” and they would have been awarded a place in the readily accessible literary archives’. But,

because these writers were women, and because they have been consigned to the less prestigious categories of journalism and children’s fiction (both a classification and a status with which I do not agree) they, and their efforts, and their relationships – to rephrase Ethel Turner – go unsung.

Amy Mack is less well-known now than her sister Louise, and certainly less well-known than Ethel Turner, but in her time she was much loved. However, even then, she didn’t always get her due, as a reader wrote to The Sydney Morning Herald on 16 April 1935:

With reference to the articles on Australian women writers in the Supplement, one is surprised at the omission of Amy Eleanor Mack, who surely wrote two of the finest books for children ever published in Australia. In “Bushland Stories” and “Scribbling Sue” the true spirit of our bushland has been preserved with a charm and sincerity all its own, and I think I am right in stating that, with the exception of Miss Ethel Turner’s “Seven Little Australians,” no books published in Australia for children had greater sales.

Four years later, announcing her death on 7 November 1939, The Sydney Morning Herald said that her work “had a mark of reality about them that found for her an increasing circle of readers”, but it was “A.T.” of North Sydney, who wrote to this same paper on 8 November, who captured her essence:

Her culture, wit, and broadmindedness, and her marvellous sense of humour made her a figure in the northern suburb in which she resided.

Sources

Nancy Phelan, ‘Mack, Amy Eleanor (1876–1939)‘, Australian Dictionary of Biography, National Centre of Biography, Australian National University, published first in hardcopy 1986.
Manu Saunders, “The wilderness: Amy Eleanor Mack“, ecologyisnotadirtyword.com, 4 March 1917
Dale Spender, Writing a new world: Two centuries of Australian women writers, originally published by Pandora Press, 1988 (sourced in Kindle ed.)

Monday musings on Australian literature: Michael Crouch Award

The Michael Crouch Award is part of the National Biography Award (NBA) suite of prizes. I have written about the NBA before, but have never specifically focused on the Michael Crouch Award.

But first, a quick recap … the National Biography Award has been going since 1996, and celebrates excellence in life writing, that is, in biography, autobiography and memoir. It is, apparently, Australia’s richest prize for Australian biographical writing and memoir, with the prize-money being:

  • $25,000 for the National Biography Award winner
  • $2,000 for each of the six shortlisted authors
  • $5,000 for the Michael Crouch Award

Michael Crouch Award

Michael Crouch was one of the original sponsors of the NBA, but died in 2018. In 2019, the award came under new sponsors, who not only increased the prize money for the shortlisted authors, but also created a new prize to honour Michael Crouch. Named, obviously, the Michael Crouch Award, it is for a first (debut) published biography, autobiography or memoir by an Australian writer. It has been awarded since 2019, but most of the NBA reporting focus has continued to be the “main” award.

So, to give these writers some extra air, I’m listing here all its winners to date:

Book cover
  • 2025: Nikos Papastergiadis, John Berger and me (Giramondo Publishing, biography/memoir)
  • 2024: Jillian Graham, Inner song: A biography of Margaret Sutherland (Melbourne University Press, biography, Lisa’s review)
  • 2023: Tom Patterson, Missing (Allen & Unwin, biography)
  • 2022: Amani Haydar, The mother wound (Pan Macmillan, memoir, Kate’s review)
  • 2021: Andrew Kwong, One bright moon (HarperCollins, memoir)
  • 2020: Jessica White, Hearing Maud (UWA Publishing, biography/memoir, my review)
  • 2019: Sofija Stefanovic, Miss Ex-Yugoslavia (Atria Books, memoir)

It’s interesting, but not surprising, that the memoirs have it.

Having read several hybrid biography/memoirs, including Jessica White’s, I am particularly interested in this year’s winner. I enjoy the process – if done well of course – whereby a writer explores another person through some prism of their own life, though this prism varies widely. In some cases, the writer and subject are related (like mother and daughter), or they are friends (like Papastergiadis and Berger), or they have something in common (like deafness in the case of Jessica White and her long-dead subject, Maud Praed). If you want pure biography, these don’t do the job, as they tend not to be comprehensive. But, what I like about these hybrids, is how the writer explores some aspect of their subject’s life story alongside, or through the prism of, their own perspectives or experiences. Done well, and particularly if both writer and subject are interesting, this form can be satisfying – and illuminating.

This was the case with Jessica White’s Hearing Maud, as I discussed in my post, and I can understand its being the case with Papastergiadis’s book. The judges called it “an original hybrid form”. The website continues:

The judges chose John Berger and Me for the Michael Crouch Award for a Debut Work for its originality and clever, non-linear but accessible structure. The quality of the author’s perceptive, lyrical, subtly humorous prose also stood out among a highly competitive field of debut books. A unique and highly readable blend of biography and memoir.

And there, I think, is a major reason why I enjoy reading these hybrids, the fact that there is no set form or formula. Each one can reinvent the wheel, with authors free to choose the approach that best suits the story they want to tell, the ideas they want to explore. It’s exciting to read books like this where authors have to work out from scratch how to start, proceed, and finish!

As for this latest winner, I am particularly interested, because John Berger’s Ways of seeing made a lasting impression on me when I read it – and saw the BBC series – in the late 1970s. I can imagine why such a man would interest a sociologist like Papastergiadis, but I think their friendship and points of contact ended up being far deeper and broader than just sociology. I’m so tempted.

Have you read any of these winners – and/or are you interested in hybrid biography/memoirs?