AustLit

'Raymond Longford and Lottie Lyell’s 1919 adaptation of C.J. Dennis’s vastly popular 1915 verse novel, The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke, has long been regarded as the great classic of surviving Australian silent films, yet relatively little has been written about how text and image relate to each other within it. This article begins with a consideration of Dennis’s poems in the context of the contemporary fashion for dialect verse, which paradoxically represented comic, semi-literate speakers for the entertainment of an increasingly literate mass audience, often through popular recitals in which the magic lantern show offered an early model of incorporating poetry with projected images. It is argued that Longford and Lyell’s deployment of Dennis’s text in the form of first-person expository intertitles implies that Arthur Tauchert’s performance as Bill, the Bloke, may itself be read as a kind of filmic ‘recital’. This has implications for the different ways in which his patois has been ‘picturised’ throughout, and two scenes are analysed in detail: ‘The Play’, where Bill famously first encounters Shakespeare, and ‘The Stroot ’at Coot’, where he vanquishes a middle-class rival. Against the artifice of Dennis’s ‘larrikinese’, the film unfolds through a naturalistic style of acting and direction that, while it incorporates earlier modes of popular performance, also reimagines them into a style of comic, dramatic irony.' (Publication abstract)

'Stephen Fry has described the typical American comic hero as a freewheeling “wisecracker” compared to the English type, who is apt to be an aspirational lower-middle-class failure. With Fry as a prompt, we consider humour and class in the evolution—or devolution—of that representative local hero, the larrikin, during Australian television’s first three decades. This was a period that saw a realignment of the nation’s political, economic and cultural affiliations away from Britain towards the US, and in which the ocker came into sudden prominence as a less benign version of rowdy male identity. If media larrikins such as Graham Kennedy and Paul Hogan excelled at the kind of sketch-based humour that had its origins in vaudeville and were unsuited to sitcoms, ocker characters such as Wally Stiller from My Name’s McGooley and Ted Bullpitt from Kingswood Country found a home there. Our analysis of larrikin and ocker humour is triangulated with that of Norman Gunston, as played by Garry McDonald: a desperately aspirational failure with his own mock variety show who emerged from the dialogue between these two comic types. We conclude with some thoughts on post-ockerism and the emergence of the bogan.' (Publication abstract)

'The Hard Word is the second collection from this respected and influential critic and teacher. The poems contain his trademark conversational tone combined with vivid wit and is the distillation of 12 years of poetry.'

Source : publisher's blurb

'In the first century BCE the Roman poet Horace proposed that, “A poem is like a picture”, meaning that, like painting, poetry engages in mimesis by imitating life, copying it in a fixed medium. But what happens when art imitates art, as in Australian poet Rosemary Dobson’s poem, For the Painter Ben Nicholson, about the work of the British modernist?' (Introduction)

'Chloe Hooper's second novel, The Engagement (2012), was always likely to face a critical challenge. Her previous book was the multi-award-winning The Tall Man (2008), a non-fictional account of the death in police custody of an Indigenous man, Cameron Doomadgee, on Palm Island off the coast of North Queensland in 2004. Coinciding with Kevin Rudd's 2008 National Apology to the Stolen Generations, it was a timely work about racial injustice overshadowed by historical guilt, and was widely publicised and well received. In contrast, The Engagement, variously described as a thriller or a gothic novel, might seem frivolous, and so far has sparked no critical attention apart from reviews, most of which, while finding things to praise, also carried reservations. Owen Richardson in the Monthly-which in 2006 had published Hooper's Walkley Award-winning essay on the inquest into Doomadgee's death—thought that "it was hard not to think that Hooper's gift is slumming it a bit," and Geordie Williamson in the Australian was "not sure how successfully Hooper has held fantasy and reality in tension" (19). Kate McFadyen in Australian Book Review struck something of a common chord when she remarked: "Hooper masters all the generic plot devices, but her characters' responses and motivations do not always ring true...' (Introduction)