Interlude 4: something of a divide
Interlude 4: something of a divide:
I hope it is apparent by now that I am not trying to construct a theory, a history, or any other large-scale, coherent formulation about Australia’s writers and their books. As a writer myself, I am distrustful of such formulations. I prefer to think that every book, every poem, should be allowed to speak for itself, because writers are only vehicles for their perceptions and creations to enter the world. If a writer says something at variance with what s/he’s written, go for the writing every time! Writers’ opinions are worth no more and no less than anybody else’s opinions, and that’s not much. Their books, on the other hand … [read more]
Introduction:
Writers of my sort can be said not so much to read as to examine another writer’s work rather as one car freak examines the vehicle and driving of another car freak. One says, “Splendid vehicle! Superb driving!” Or, “Nice vehicle! Ghastly driving!” Or, “Can’t stand that kind of cumbersomely pretentious vehicle! And what bewildering and erratic driving!”
Hal confesses that the third attitude is his to the novels and plays of ‘Mr White’. I will say no more at this point about Mr White or Mr Porter, but I quote this comparison of writer and car freak because in the essays that follow I am the freak who comments on others of his kind. I know I can’t see my essays as others will see them but I imagine some readers accusing me of many things, and others, well trained, perhaps, in one or another school of literary or social criticism, who will think my observations no more than shallow or ignorant. To such people I can only say that these essays offer whatever it is that a fellow-writer can offer, and don’t pretend to offer anything else.