Author Archives: residentjudge

I hear with my little ear: Podcasts 25-30 November

The Rest is History Episode 614: Walt Disney: The Great American Storyteller. So there I was, on my evening walk through the suburban streets of Rosanna, laughing my head off at the start of this episode where Tom Holland regales us through a truly terrible rendition of ‘When You Wish Upon a Star’, while Dominic intones the words. But the reality is that this song is burned into my memory as the theme song of Disneyland, which I rarely got to hear as I was usually bundled straight into bed (at 7.30!) unless we were visiting family friends all the way out in Croydon- miles away! It took awhile to all pile into the car, and so I got to hear the song. Mum and Dad would put the back seat down, and we would lie down in the back, watching the orange sodium street lights until we were asleep.

Enough reminiscing. After murdering the song Tom and Dominic redeem themselves by really capturing just how new Walt Disney’s early animations were, starting with Steam Boat Willy in 1928. The sound was fully synchronised to the action, and the cartoon characters actually had their own personalities. The Three Little Pigs in 1933 introduced brilliant colour, and Snow White (1937) was seen as the supreme achievement in animation with thousands upon thousands of drawings. Pinocchio won an Oscar in 1940, and it was followed by Fantasia and Bambi, which presented a particular challenge in depicting animals realistically and yet with human features. They draw a parallel between Walt Disney and Steve Jobs (Apple) in that they both worked in a field where technology was in its infancy, they are linked to California, and moving on from their own ‘tinkering’ from interest, they became the public face of a wealthy corporation. But Walt Disney and his brother Roy were not wealthy at first, and the company nearly went broke during WW2. Losing the licensing rights for his first creation ‘Oswald the Lucky Rabbit’ spurred Walt Disney to ensure that he always maintained tight control of licensing- something that exists to this day. Politically, Disney became increasingly conservative, especially after a strike in 1941 over unionization, which was a PR disaster for them, and he publicly aligned himself with Joseph McCarthy. He continued to make films (Cinderella etc) but they were not of the same quality as his earlier films. By the 1950s he embraced television and produced the hugely popular Disneyland. He died in 1966, by which time opinion had turned against many of his films, which were accused of being infantalizing, commercial and sentimental. This criticism was strongly voiced by P. L. Travers, who resented Disney’s treatment of her Mary Poppins character. Really interesting – and a good recovery from that terrible opening song.

Episode 615 Disneyland: The Modern American Utopia This episode looks at the construction and place of Disneyland within Walt Disney’s imagination and American life. It was conceived during the 1940s, after the success of Snow White, when Disney was looking for something new. He was obsessed with train sets, and even had a life size train built in his house. He at first conceptualized Disneyland as a miniature travelling village, and in 1951 he sent out a team to investigate museum displays and historical recreation parks (which US is into in a big way). At this point Tom and Dominic become more historical as they trace though the development of pleasure gardens and entertainment parks, starting with the oldest park in Copenhagen in 1580 that was built beside the tourist attraction of a spring. The Vauxhall Gardens were established in London during the Restoration era. They kept the riff-raff out by charging 1 shilling, which is about $150 in today’s currency- similar to the price of a ticket to Disneyland. But by the mid-19th century it had gone downmarket, and it closed in 1859. The first carousel was built in 1790s France, and by 1861 a steam-driven carousel was opened in Boulton UK. Fred Savage was the Father of 1860s rides, developing the switchback ride by 1888. Disneyland was conceptualized as a theme park, rather than a park with rides. To cover the huge expense, Disney entered into an arrangement with ABC Television to present 26 television episodes, which became hugely popular. At the end of the 1950s he bought a huge parcel of land in Florida, where he planned to build Disney World as a housing village for his workers, but he died before this eventuated. On reflecting on Disneyland Tom and Dominic observe that it’s a reflection of one man’s biography and vision. It is a total immersion experience, with ‘cast members’ rather than workers, and the rides are stories, rather than thrills. There is an emphasis on order, just as there was in Vauxhall Gardens, and although it has the past and the future, there is no present.

There’s then a Bonus Episode with an interview with Bob Iger, the head of Disney today. It’s a bit boring, so don’t bother. But it is interesting that Disney is now a corporation that needs to provide shareholder value, and that it has now purchased the stories from other franchises.

Journey Through Time I’ve only just started listening to this podcast, hosted by historians David Olusoga and Sarah Churchwell, I started listening to the episodes about the Paris Commune, without really knowing quite what it was, or when it occurred. The Paris Commune: France’s Bloodiest Revolution Episode 1 looks at the 1871 Paris Commune where a combination of soldiers, students, women and artists governed Paris of 72 days, independent of the government. It is not as well known as the French Revolution of 1789, but it was more violent. Paris had been modernized since the French Revolution with Haussman’s massive public works program between 1853 and 1870. The Commune began with France’s humiliation at the hands of Bismarck’s Prussia, who had deliberately fomented war to forge German nationalism. Napoleon III took the bait, but ended up captured, with the Second Empire in ruins. The Third Empire was soon established outside Paris, but it just replicated the status quo. Bismarck surrounded the still-walled city of Paris, thinking that it would soon fall, and when it didn’t, he decided to starve them out. A large government delegation escaped Paris and set up outside. Meanwhile the Parisians were starving, and when they heard rumours that the government was about to surrender, a country-wide uprising occurred on the 31 October. However, the uprising quickly collapsed in the provinces, and so Paris now felt that it was fighting on alone.

The Documentary (BBC) The Shiralee: D’Arcy Niland’s 1955 Australian western. A western? I don’t remember it that way. The BBC blurb mentions the 1957 movie starring Peter Finch, but Bryan Brown also made a version in 1987. Anyway, Kate Mulvaney is doing a stage version with the Sydney Theatre Company (the run finished at the end of November 2025) and this is an audio diary account of her writing the screen play and watching the performance come together in rehearsal.

‘Prophet Song’ by Paul Lynch

2024, 320 p.

SPOILER ALERT

I am writing some weeks after I finished reading this book, and I really regret that I didn’t sit down and write it immediately afterwards. My response to it has dulled with time, but I do remember slamming it shut and announcing “Fantastic!!” I read it for the Ivanhoe Reading Circle immediately after finishing Sally Carson’s Crooked Cross (review here) and the two books complement each other beautifully. In fact, I think I will always link them mentally because they seemed to be a similar response to an uneasy, suffocating situation, separated by nearly ninety years.

The book is set in Dublin, at some unspecified time, two years after the National Alliance Party has passed the Emergency Powers Act, which gives expanded powers to the Garda National Services Bureau, (GNSB) a new secret police force. Eilish, the mother of four teenaged children, the last only a baby, answers the door to two policemen seeking her husband Larry, a teacher and trade union organizer. Within the first chapter, her husband disappears after a peaceful union march, and her attempts to find where he has been taken fail. Eilish is a mother, daughter, wife, scientist and a long-time resident of Dublin. For much of the book, and as the world becomes a sharper place, she concentrates on the mundane, the quotidian, trying to keep routines together. She holds on to the life that she had before, that she thought was immutable, too afraid to look beyond her house, her community, her family. Catching sight of herself in the mirror in the hallway

[f]or an instant she sees the past held in the open gaze of the mirror as though
the mirror contains all it has seen seeing herself sleepwalking before the glass the
mindless comings and goings throughout the years watching herself usher the
children out of the car and they’re all ages before her and Mark has lost another
shoe and Molly is refusing to wear a coat and Larry is asking if they’ve had their
schoolbags and she sees how happiness hides in the humdrum how it abides in
the everyday toing and froing as though happiness were a thing that should
not be seen as though it were a note that cannot be heard until it sounds from
the past seeing her own countless reflections vain and satisfied before the glass (p.43)

Her friend Carole, whose husband has also disappeared, urges her to resist and to look at what is going on around her as people in her street beginning hanging National Alliance Party flags from their windows, and as her house and car is vandalized. People stop talking:

…the brilliance of the act they take something from you and replace it
with silence and you’re confronted by that silence every waking moment and cannot
live you cease to be yourself and become a thing before this silence a thing waiting
for the silence to end a thing on your knees begging and whispering to it all night and
day a thing waiting for what was taken to be returned and only then can you resume
your life but silence doesn’t end you see they leave open the possibility that what you
want will be returned someday and so you remain reduced paralysed dollars an old
knife and the silence doesn’t end because the silence is the source of their power that
is its secret meaning silence is permanent. (p.165)

Eilish’s father Simon is living alone and subsiding into dementia, but he still has flashes of clarity which pierce through the domestic cotton-wool that Eilish is trying to cocoon herself within.

…if you change ownership of the institutions then you can
change ownership of the facts you can alter the structure of belief what is agreed
upon that is what they’re doing Eilish it’s really quite simple the NAP is trying to
change what you and I call reality. If you say one thing is another thing and you say it
enough times, then it must be so and if you keep saying it over and over people
accept it as true this is an old idea of course it’s really nothing you but you’re
watching it happen in your own time not in a book. (p 20)

Her sister Aine in Canada is urging her to leave while she can, but Eilish feels rooted to Dublin, still hoping that her husband Larry will return. She tries to protect her eldest son Mark by sending him away; and it is only when her thirteen year old son Bailey is killed -and she finds his body in the morgue, tortured- that she finds the strength to act. And here we come to Lynch’s purpose in writing the book. As the world hardened against refugees, he asks us to engage in ‘radical empathy’ by seeing the leaving and flight from a repressive regime from the perspective that it could happen to us, just as it has with Eilish, just as it has again and again throughout history:

…it is vanity to think that the world will end during your lifetime in some sudden event, that what ends is your life and only your life, that what is sung by the prophets is but the same song sung across time, the coming of the sword, the world devoured by fire, the sun gone down into the earth at noon and the world cast in darkness, the fury of some god incarnate in the mouth of the prophet ranging at the wickedness that will be cast out of sight and the prophet sings not of the end of the world but of what has been done and what will be done and what is being done to some but not others, that the world is always ending over and over again in one place but not another and that the end of the world is always a local event, it comes to your country and visits your town and knocks on the door of your house, and becomes to other but some distant warning, a brief report on the news, an echo of events that has passed into folklore… p. 304

There is only one perspective in this book- that of Eilish- and as you can tell from the quotes, it is told in a breathless, relentless suffocating urgency with no punctuation and few paragraphs. Yet, it was not hard to read once you relaxed into it- just as the people of Dublin relaxed into autocracy and violence, I guess. I can think of few books that frightened me as much as this one did. Absolutely fantastic.

My rating: 10/10

Read because: Ivanhoe Reading Circle selection

Sourced from: own copy

‘Crooked Cross’ by Sally Carson

380 p. 1934 republished 2025

It’s happened a couple of times that I have read two books in close succession, only to find that the books speak to each other, and are long afterwards fused together as a reading experience in my mind. This was the case with Crooked Cross, first published in 1934 and recently re-released by Persephone Books this year. It might be 90 years old, but it soon became a publishing phenomenon- and I can see why.

It must have been as close as possible to being contemporary when it was published in 1934, as it deals with a six-month period between Christmas Eve 1932 and Midsummer night 1933. Of course, we know what is going to happen, but neither the characters in this book nor its author do. As it is, there is something queasily anxious about Christmas Eve in a small mountain town in the Bavarian mountains, where the Kluger family – parents and three young adult children eldest son Helmy, daughter Lexa and much-indulged younger son Erich- are celebrating Christmas. The family has been in straitened circumstances: the father’s wages have been reduced and eldest son Helmy has been unemployed for several years. Giddy with the prospect of soon marrying her fiance Moritz, Lexa has resigned her job, while Erich has returned for Christmas from his seasonal job as a ski-instructor, with the occasional dalliances with clients on the side. In amongst the carols and the snow and the midnight church service, there is a photo of Hitler on the piano, adorned with holly. Just a mention, an aside, but National Socialism is to embed itself within the family, and change the trajectory of their lives.

Lexa finds herself forced to choose when her fiance Moritz, a converted Jew, is sacked from his position at the hospital, and is increasingly confined to a small flat where he lives with his father. Meanwhile, her two brothers, and eventually her father too, join the Nazi party which provides jobs and identity to a generation of men who were emasculated by the years after WWI. The party becomes more and more embedded and normalized in everyday life, and the cost of being outside the party and its ideology becomes steeper.

It is impossible not to draw parallels with current events, which is no doubt why this book has been republished now. It ended on a cliff-hanger, and I was excited to find the next book, The Prisoner, which was published in 1936, followed by A Traveller Came By which appeared in 1938. Unfortunately these books, which like Crooked Cross were published almost in real time, have not yet been re-released. As it is, they form a little time capsule of contemporary awareness, shaped only by events and perceptions at the time rather than historical fact seen in retrospect. They came to an end with the author’s death of breast cancer in 1941 at the age of just 38. She was not to know just how prescient she had been.

My rating: 9/10

Read because: Lisa at ANZLitLovers reviewed it.

Sourced from: Kobo ebook.

I hear with my little ear: Podcasts 17-24 November 2025

The Rest is History Episode 579 The Irish War of Independence: Showdown in London (Part 4) This episode looks at the Anglo-Irish Treaty, signed in December 1921. “Deals” are all the go with Donald Trump, and this episode reveals the intransigence and craftiness of ‘deal-makers’, in this case Lloyd George. David Lloyd George was a Welshman, from a non-conformist background (although he personally lost his faith). He despised Catholics, and as a Welshman couldn’t understand why Ireland objected so much to the United Kingdom. He was radical and charismatic, but he was dependent on the Conservatives (who were protestant and anti-catholic) to maintain his position. For some reason, Éamon de Valera refused to go to London to negotiate the treaty, sending instead a team including Michael Collins and Arthur Griffith, with instructions not to sign anything without checking with him first. But Lloyd George was a masterful negotiator who separated out Collins and Griffith from the rest and dealt with them individually, and Griffith was too quick to sign a document of agreement made as part of this separate negotiation. The ‘deal’ they came up is encapsulated in the border which lasts till today, and Lloyd George came out the winner, achieving his two ‘red lines’ of maintaining the unity of the empire, and devising a solution that was acceptable to the Conservatives on whom his government depended. De Valera was furious, especially over the oath that had been agreed to, and walked out when the deal was backed by the unofficial Irish government. On 14 April 1922 the armed IRA occupied the Four Courts in a challenge to the Collins/Griffith government.

Shadows of Utopia Tet Part 2: the My Lai Massacre This long episode doesn’t start with My Lai but instead with the village of Ha My on 25 February 1968, a few weeks before the My Lai massacre. By this time, the fighting was petering out, and the NLF flag had been taken down at Hue. A troop of soldiers, mainly South Korean but also with Australian and Thai soldiers called a meeting of the villagers to be addressed by the South Korean commander. The villagers, mainly women, old men and children, gathered hoping to receive some of the lollies that the US-aligned troops handed out. 135 villagers were shot.

By the time My Lai occurred, Westmoreland was confident of victory. There were 500,000 US troops in Vietnam, mostly draftees. They had a 12 month stint there, which Lachlan Peters emphasizes as it was too short to gain any real expertise or experience, and there was a constant churn of men eager to do their time and get home. My Lai was in a ‘free fire’ zone, where ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ was the modus operandi. Charlie Company was led by William Calley, who had benefitted from the churn of personnel to be promoted beyond his modest abilities. The troops were not trained in how to deal with civilians and non-combatants. On 16 March 1968 he led over five hours of pandemonium, arriving at 7.30 in the morning and killing between 350-500 villagers by lunchtime. The divisions had been split up from each other, but there was no attack on them by the Viet Cong. There was an immediate coverup. There’s not many heroes here, but one was helicopter pilot Hugh Thompson who challenged Calley, rescued the few people he could, and reported the action to his superiors. He received a Distinguished Flying Cross, but threw it away.

Lachlan then embarks on a (long) reflection on why the My Lai massacre occurred.

NY Times The Daily Parenting a Trans Kid in Trump’s America. A policy which might (and that’s a big ‘might’) seem acceptable on the face of it can be challenged when it comes down to an individual person and their family. This podcast features two parents, both ministers in Christian churches in the South, who become increasingly conscious of their child’s unhappiness as she (they use the preferred pronoun ‘she’) approaches puberty. To give some breathing space for their child Allie to make up her mind, they begin to search for puberty-blocking hormones, only to find the options becoming increasingly narrowed as Trump’s policies on trans people take effect. Even moving to a ‘blue’ state sees the options dry up, out of fear of penalty and retribution.

Witness History (BBC) The Father of E-Books In 1971 Michael Hart had access to an ARPANet computer at a university for one week. He typed the Declaration of Independence into the computer and emailed it on to the 100 people who had access to the network. This was the genesis for his plan to make the world’s literature available online, starting with 100 books, then going on to the next 100. Project Gutenberg was born!

‘The Sympathizer’ by Viet Thanh Nguyen

“Have you read The Sympathizer?” asked my son as we were planning our trip to Vietnam. Great book, he said although I did have a qualm or two as I packed it. Would it would be viewed as suitable reading matter should the Customs Officers at Ho Chi Minh city airport decide that my cases needed to be inspected? It is a great book, and no one had much interest in my suitcases at the airport after they had been scanned. It was the winner of the Pulitizer Prize for Fiction in 2016, and a worthy one too.

2016, 384 P.

Framed as a confession written by an unnamed Vietnamese double agent for the shadowy Commandant, the narrator is a Vietnamese army captain who is working under cover for the North Vietnamese. We do not know who the Commandant is, or in whose custody our narrator is, or why.  He is obviously being told to rewrite his confession because there is something missing, so it is a slippery narrative.

Our narrator is a man of divided loyalties on many sides: his father was a French priest who took advantage of his young, now deceased mother, and he is shunned as not being ‘properly’ Vietnamese. His closest friends were Man and Bon, and they shared the scar on their hands that they made as blood brothers.  They did not, however, share their politics, as Bon becomes an ardent South Vietnamese patriot in exile in America with our narrator. During the war, our narrator worked with the American troops, and after the war he infiltrates the South Vietnamese diaspora community based in America. He becomes a sort of cultural consultant for a film which sounds very much like ‘Apocalypse Now’ (and indeed, books about Coppolla and the making of the the movie are credited in his references) and at times the book is quite funny as the Auteur reveals his complete disregard for the Vietnamese people who are just fodder to his film-making vision.

But the confessor’s hands are not clean. When suspicion arises that there is a mole in the diapora community, he fingers a man he calls ‘the crapulent major’ instead, and assassinates him. When a journalist called Sonny moves in on a woman he has fallen in love with, he assassinates him too. According to this clearly self-serving and written-to-order confession, he is haunted by these two deaths, although early crimes committed in his presence are left unnamed.

The ending of the book is graphic, but I found myself wanting to push through to find out who the commandant, and his superior the commissar were and how he found himself in this situation- a sign that the narrative strength of the book could overcome my own squeamishness.

My enjoyment of the book was probably enhanced, having read it in Vietnam, immersed in museums commemorating the struggle for independence and the end of the war, and moving through areas that were just names in the news reports of the 1960s and 1970s. But even had I read it in cold old Melbourne, I still would have been fascinated by the split nature and slipperiness of the narrative, and the situation that led our confessor to write this tract.

My rating: 9/10

Read because: I was in Vietnam

I hear with my little ear: Podcasts 9-16 November 2025

The Rest is History Episode 578 The Irish War of Independence – Bloody Sunday (Part 3) As with the previous two episodes, Dominic and Tom are joined by Irish historian Paul Rouse. I knew about the 1972 Bloody Sunday, but not about the Bloody Sunday that took place on 21 November 1920. It started with the IRA targetting about 19 men in Dublin, shooting 15 dead in 8 locations. It was personally ordered by Michael Collins himself. Not all the victims were intelligence officers, and not all were English. That afternoon there was a football match at Croke Park. The football authorities were warned to cancel it, but they decided to go ahead because the park was already half-full. At 3.30 trucks, and 15 minutes after the game began, trucks arrived. Shooting began from the outside (this is important because the British claimed that the shooting began from inside), and there was a stampede and crush. There was blowback in England with acts of violence, followed by reprisals against the IRA, who found it hard to get arms. Finally a ceasefire and truce was announced, and negotiations began.

The Human Subject (BBC) This is the final episode in the series. If the second-last episode about deep-brain stimulation seemed a bit ho-hum, this one certainly made me angry. The Trauma Victims and their Blood tells the story of Martha Milete, who was shot in 2006 when masked men invaded her house. Without ever giving consent, she found herself part of an experiment into Polyhaem, a form artificial blood which would certainly be a boon to emergency medicine, but which initially caused heart attacks in all of the first ten subjects, with two of them dying. These terrible results caused the product to be shelved but in 1996 a change in the FDA regulations meant that there was no need for individual consent from trauma patients- which is how Milete found herself part of the experiment. Instead, Polyhaem had to gain ‘community consent’, which they interpreted as giving a Powerpoint presentation at the hospital, and the initial provision of blue bracelets that had to be worn 24 hrs a day opting out (they soon ran out and it took a year to replenish them). Appalling.

Witness History (BBC) I love this program. Ten minutes- enough time for a walk home from the station- and really interesting. Orson Welles Broadcasts War of the World has interviews from various people who were involved on the radio program broadcast on the night before Halloween in 1938. I’d forgotten that H.G. Well’s short story ‘The War of the Worlds’ was set in England. When Howard Koch wrote the radio play, to be performed as part of a weekly program, it was a very boring show. So it was decided to set it in a real location in New Jersey, and to present it as a live broadcast which had interrupted the programming for the night. Up to six million people tuned in, unaware that they were listening to a radio play, and it prompted mass panic. There’s an interview with Orson Welles himself, as well as with the script writer and the producer John Houseman. Really good.

Rear Vision (ABC) America’s Radical Left Part I and Part 2 looks at the history of the left in America. Part I looks at the religiously-driven radicalism of early America and the failure to create a dedicated ‘labour’ party in United State. This failure was tied up with other competing ideas about colour and ethnic identity, and the Republican and Democratic parties were canny enough to co-opt some of the Left’s ideas- enough to undermine support for a minority party which might not gain power. Part 2 looks at the effect of the Soviet Union on Left politics, McCarthyism and the rapid re-emergence of Left ideas under the Black Power movement. The election of Zohran Mamdani to New York mayor and the persistence of Bernie Sanders shows that the Left isn’t dead yet.

‘The Tiger’s Wife’ by Tea Obreht

2019, 368 p.

To be honest, I don’t know if I understood this book. I enjoyed it enough while I was reading it, but whenever I tried to conceptualize in my mind what it was about, the whole thing just seemed too slippery and unformed.

The frame story revolves around a young doctor, Natalia, who is travelling back to an unnamed country in the Balkans, after the region has been torn apart and clumsily reassembled after the civil war. She, and her friend (partner?) Zora are moving into remote villages in order to vaccinate children whose childhoods have been disrupted by the war. Far from home, she learns that her beloved grandfather has died. Her grandfather had been a pivotal part of her childhood, taking her to the zoo to see the tiger, who held a special fascination for her grandfather.

With her grandfather much on her mind, she recalls two stories that her grandfather, also a doctor, had told her. One was of the Tiger’s Wife, a young deaf-mute woman married to a brutal man, who somehow (don’t ask me how) becomes the wife of a tiger that had escaped and was terrorizing the surrounding villages. He had met the Tiger’s Wife as a child. The second story was of the Deathless Man, who warns people that they are about to die, even though he cannot die himself. Her grandfather encounters the Deathless Man several times in his life.

War is an ongoing presence in the book. Natalia is living in the wake of the most recent Balkans war, but war is threaded through her grandfather’s life as well. In the villages, people are digging up the remains of their relatives buried in the fields, and war has claimed the tiger that Natalia visited as a child as well, as it gnaws off its own paws through stress.

The narrative switches backwards and forwards, and even though the individual stories were engaging, eliciting your sympathy for characters who were otherwise unlovely, they do not hang together into a coherent whole- or if they do, I couldn’t detect it. I am not uncomfortable with magic realism but it seemed incongruent in this dark, war-haunted country. If there was a deeper meaning connecting the stories, I couldn’t find it, even though I felt that it was just beyond my grasp.

Very clever, or too tricksy? I think the latter.

My rating: 6/10

Sourced from: my own bookshelves

Heather Cox Richardson on Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving Day in America has just passed. We do not celebrate it, or anything like it, here in Australia, although as it happens I participated in a Thanksgiving lunch with American and Australian friends last Saturday. Historian Heather Cox Richardson posted a video about Thanksgiving which she was undecided about leaving up, so I’m posting about it now while it’s still there. You can find it here:

In this video, she returns to one of the primary documents, Mourt’s Relation to describe the First Thanksgiving, and it’s quite different to the story as I understood it. There’s no starving Pilgrims here: instead they were surrounded by food:

Our harvest being gotten in, our governor sent four men on fowling, that so we might after a special manner rejoice together after we had gathered the fruit of our labors. They four in one day killed as much fowl as, with a little help beside, served the company almost a week. At which time, amongst other recreations, we exercised our arms, many of the Indians coming amongst us, and among the rest their greatest king, Massasoit, with some ninety men, whom for three days we entertained and feasted, and they went out and killed five deer, which they brought to the plantation and bestowed on our governor, and upon the captain [Myles Standish] and others.

Mourt’s Relation was a document published in 1622 to reassure investors that the colony was a successful (and that they hadn’t ‘done’ their money) and to encourage others to come. There is another similar document called Of Plymouth Plantation written between 1630-1651 CE. Of Plymouth Plantation doesn’t have any starving Pilgrims either:

They began now [fall of 1621 CE) to gather in the small harvest they had, and to prepare their houses for the winter, being well recovered and in health and strength and plentifully provisioned; for while some had been thus employed in affairs away from home, others were occupied in fishing for cod, bass, and other fish, of which they caught a good quantity, every family having their portion. All summer there was no want. And now, as winter approached, wild fowl began to arrive [and] they got abundance of wild turkeys besides venison. (Book II.ch.2)

HCR (ie. Heather Cox Richardson) points out that there is a difference between the Pilgrims and the Puritans although they are often conflated in the public imagination. The Pilgrims were separatists, who wanted to leave the Anglican Church, whereas the Puritans were prepared to stay in the church and transform it from within. The Pilgrims went to America from Leiden in the Netherlands, where they had escaped in the hope of establishing their own independent congregation. However, when their children were not doing as well as they hoped, they headed off for America as a form of ‘tough’ love to turn their grumpy adolescents into god-fearing responsible young people.

She also points out that the Pilgrims were not the first Europeans to arrive in New England. English cod fishers had been plying the New England coast to avoid competition in the North Sea, and they had established relations with the local tribes, as well as exposing them to contagious diseases that plunged the indigenous population into crisis.

What really interested me were the parallels and differences between the early contact in New England and in New South Wales. The fishers were followed by explorers, like George Weymouth, who was struck by the straight pines which he immediately saw as potential masts for the British navy – a very early hope with the NSW settlement as well. The Pilgrims were struck by the ‘park-like’ appearance of the land, which as in Australia, had been managed by firestick farming by the local tribes. ‘Park-like’ was a common description of the Australian explorers as well. The difference was that the Pilgrims saw this as proof that God had prepared this new land for them: Australian explorers just saw the commercial potential. And in both cases, the spread of disease decimated indigenous populations and de-stablized their politics.

HCR recorded this for an American audience, but this Australian listener found it fascinating.

‘The empty honour board: a school memoir’ by Martin Flanagan

2023, 208 p.

When it comes to the Catholic Church and sexual abuse of children, there is little space for nuance without it being mischaracterized. However, nuance is what we find in Martin Flanagan’s memoir of his school days at an un-named Tasmanian Catholic boarding school between 1966-1971. As he says in his opening line “I was warned against writing this”. Not only was there the danger of stirring up pain and controversy, but there was the danger of being forced to rethink one’s own story that had seemed certain.

By the time you get to my age-67 at the time of writing- people’s sense of their personal history has taken a mythological turn. Most of us cling to the notion that there is meaning in our lives and, whether we know it or not, arrange the furniture in our minds- our memories- accordingly. We acquire a personal mythology, and personal mythologies, when they clash can do so violently. This is a region where demons lurk. (p. 2)

But as a stream of claims from former student from his school surfaced, the demons found him:

Each disclosure took me back to a time in my life when I thought I inhabited a concrete reality. Now that concrete reality was bending and breaking like buildings in an earthquake. (p.3)… Behind the issue of what actually went on at my school on an island off the southern coast of the world’s most southern continent, global forces were at play- ancient controversies to do with the Catholic church, the Pope, the authority of priests, celibacy, the Vatican’s exclusive maleness and the epidemic of sexual abuse that has followed it around the world. Somewhere inside all that of that, being thrown about like a leaf in a storm, was me, my story. (p.8)

Flanagan was not sexually abused himself – or at least, he did not perceive that he had been sexually abused. But at the age of sixteen he was invited into the room of one of the priests where the priest, Eric, gave him a massage with his pyjama bottoms removed, face down on the priest’s single bed, nude from the waist down. After a vigorous massage of his legs with oil, he rolled over and the priest glanced at his limp and uninterested cock. “End of story” (p. 86)

Completely inappropriate though this clearly is, Flanagan did not consider himself to have been sexually abused, even though other people thought that he had been. As far as he is concerned, “to be abused you must surely feel as if you’ve been abused”. He feels that he was inoculated from a strong response because he never did believe in the Catholic church, and because by then he was already quite certain in his own sexuality.

However, he knew other boys who were sexually abused by the priests. At much the same time as this happened to him, he was the school captain, and he was led by another boy to where he found a 12 year old shaking and shuddering in his pyjamas, with a spray of semen up his back. He and other boys reported the priest to the school rector. Some thirty years later, he gave evidence against one of the three priests from the school who were charged with sex crimes.

Flanagan may not have been sexually abused but he was abused by the ingrained cruelty of the school that filtered down through the priests and bubbled up among the boys themselves. He felt ashamed of many things: his abject begging not to get the cuts for some minor misdemeanour, his failure to intervene when he saw other boys being bullied, his desperation to appease the bullies who had decided that he was a ‘teller of stories’ as a ‘fear like a sort of radiation illness infiltrated my being’. (p.74). Years later, he began having panic attacks at night. For about six months he was in mental tumult until

In the end, one hot day I was standing beside a blackwood tree in the paddock beside our little home, when a shadow hurried across the grass towards me. With it came a great fear that I was about to be extinguished or swallowed up, and I cried out ‘I have a right to be!’. Pure madness, I know, but I’m glad I did it. Glad I shouted at my shadow. At the negative imprint of those early years. I have a right to be, everybody has a right to be. What do I believe in? Human dignity. (p.102)

What saved him was sport, especially football, and writing about sport. It was through sport and writing that the boys he had gone to school with, now men, circulated back into his adult life. These men came with their own stories, their own pain and the author’s response and reconciliation with this shared, and yet so private, experience takes up the last third of the book. The report that he had made as school captain on discovering the shivering boy in his pyjamas all those years ago resurfaced as part of the controversy over the school 43 years later. He reads the letter from the rector to the head of the order detailing the report that Flanagan himself had made, which the rector described as ‘fooling around’. Here he learns about the evasions and plans to withdraw the priest from classes, to move him around the state, or divert him into working on the school magazine. As a result of the Royal Commission into Institutional Sexual Abuse that he learns about ‘Father GMG’, sent to his school to avoid the repercussions of another interaction of a sexual nature, who is moved from one school to another. There is a pattern here.

Over the years, the author attends three Catholic ceremonies. The first was a vigil at St Ignatius, Richmond as 25 year old Van Tuong Nguyen was hanged in a Singapore jail for drug running. The second was Ned Kelly’s funeral in a Catholic Church in Wangaratta in January 2013. The third was a Ritual of Lament in 2021 run by his old school. He struggled over whether to go: he didn’t like ceremonies; he feared inauthentic emotion; he feared doing it the ‘wrong way’. He went.

What is striking about this book is the way that Flanagan holds many things in tension: acknowledgement that the same men who whipped him also imbued in him a love of literature and writing; disgust at the sexual abuse and yet compassion for the situation that, at least for the priest that he gave evidence against, he

could be well described as a maladjusted, sexually immature, lonely individual… [who] had virtually no possibility of a sexual relationship with a woman given his living circumstances. (p. 7)

He accepted the word that two of the priests at the school were unaware of what was going on amongst their brother priests. He did not characterize what he observed at his school as a long display of cynical behaviour. Instead,

[W]what I see at the core of this whole business is abject human isolation surrounded by a floundering belief system. (p. 142)

The book is not divided into chapters, and although it moves forward chronologically, it is divided into dozens of small shards, separated by asterisks. It’s almost as if the truth he is grappling to explain is also fragmentary, without an overarching structure that can be imposed onto it. There is some sort of resolution – not ‘closure’- with the Ritual of Lament performed by the now-coeducational school, no longer an all-boys boarding school. He sees this book, which was almost finished at the time of the Ritual of Lament, as his way of honoring the experience from 40 years ago as he sees it now. He speaks only for himself.

The old school’s honour board doesn’t have an entry for my last year. Perhaps it’s because the following year the school started a new era by going co-ed, perhaps it’s because my last year ended in a scandal. The tide of golden print records the year – 1971- but after that are empty spaces of varnished wood. The real names in this book are my honour board, although the list, I must add, is far from complete. (p.11)

My rating: 8/10

Read because: Ivanhoe Reading Circle August selection

Sourced from: own copy

I hear with my little ear: Podcasts 1-8 November 2025

Let’s just jump ahead, shall we? I have been listening to podcasts between September and November, but many of them have been current affairs podcasts, which just come and go.

The Human Subject (BBC) The Gay Man and the Pleasure Shocks From the website:

This is the story of patient B-19, a 24-year old who, in 1970, walks into a hospital in Louisiana troubled by the fact that the drugs he’s been abusing for the past three years are no longer having the desired effect. He claims he is “bored by everything” and is no longer getting a “kick” out of sex. To Dr Robert Heath’s intrigue, B-19 has “never in his life experienced heterosexual relationships of any kind”. Somewhere along the way, during the consultations, the conclusion is drawn that B-19 would be happier if he wasn’t gay. And so they set about a process that involves having lots of wires sticking out of his brain. Julia and Adam hear from science journalist and author, Lone Frank, author of The Pleasure Shock: The Rise of Deep Brain Stimulation and Its Forgotten Inventor.

Actually, I wasn’t particularly shocked by this episode. It was the 1970s after all, time of ‘Clockwork Orange’, and brain stimulation and operant conditioning was all the go. While most of us wouldn’t see being gay as something that had to be ‘cured’, I do wonder if truly deviant behaviour that would otherwise see a person incarcerated for life (an inveterate child abuser?) might not still turn to methods like this?

The Rest is History Episode 606: Enoch Powell Rivers of Blood With Nigel Farage on the loose, it seems appropriate to go back to revisit Enoch Powell and his ‘Rivers of Blood’ speech. As Dominic and Tom point out, Enoch Powell is better remembered than a lot of Prime Ministers are, and he influenced Thatcher and inspired the Brexiteers. He was born in Birmingham in 1912 and was a precocious child who seemed destined to be a classics scholar. He had no interest in women, but he was obsessed by Nietzsche. He was a Professor of Greek at Sydney University by the age of 25 (I didn’t know that!), but he really wanted to be the Viceroy of India (as one does). He fought in WW2 but not in a combat role. He was a Tory, but he was often critical of the party, and championed English nationalism in Parliament in his hypnotic droning voice. He decriminalized homosexuality, was anti-Vietnam, anti-US but economically very dry. Despite the influx of Windrush and British/Pakistani immigrants in the late 1940s, immigration was seen more as a regrettable necessity rather than a national issue. At first Powell did nothing about the reported ‘white flight’ from areas like his electorate of Wolverhampton, but by 1964 it was recognized that immigration had to be controlled to avoid the ‘colour question’, a question supercharged by television of unrest in Montgomery and Alabama in the US. Why did Powell change? He argued that he was representing the views of his electorate, and he held up an ideal of the English people and became more radical as a way of distinguishing himself from Heath. In 1967 there was an influx of Indians from Kenya after Kenyatta expelled them and an Act was passed to restrict immigration. The Labour government introduced a Racial Relations Bill in 1968 which prohibited racial discrimination in areas like housing. When the Tories decided to quibble over the details but accepted the principle of the bill, Powell was furious and this was the impetus for the ‘Rivers of Blood Speech’, which was publicized beforehand, so television crews were there to record it. He was sacked as Minister for Defence, but he had strong support on the streets. He never distanced himself from violence, but he was wrong- there were no rivers of blood. And until now Tories wouldn’t touch the issue again.

The Rest is History Episode 577: The Irish War of Independence: The Violence Begins (Part 2) After their largely ceremonial electoral victory in 1917, Sinn Fein established an alternative shadow government which had cabinet positions, courts and issues a Declaration of Independence. It wanted to attend the Paris Peace Conference, but it didn’t get a seat at the table. The IRA was recruiting heavily, but the majority were more involved with logistics and protection rather than firing guns. The conflict hotted up in the early 1920s when the IRA began attacking police barracks and courts. There was a mass resignation of police, and they were replaced by ex-army soldiers, the notorious ‘black and tans’ and auxiliaries. In 1921 the Flying Columns and IRA intelligence ramped up, with localized violence. But this violence was not necessarily a sectarian war, but it certainly had sectarian aspects.

In Our Time (BBC). Apparently Melvyn Bragg is stepping down from In Our Time after 26 years. He is 85, after all, and he was starting to sound a bit quavery. So, they’re dipping back into the archives and they replayed an episode on Hannah Arendt from 2017. She was born to a non-observant Jewish family in Hanover in 1906, a family that was so non-observant that she was surprised when she found herself singled out as being Jewish. She had an affair with Heidegger, but then he became a Nazi. She was a classicist, and she maintained this interest throughout her life. She escaped to America in 1941 as a refugee, where she developed English as her third language. In her book Eichmann in Jerusalem, she warned of a new sort of atomized evil, like a fungus, and she saw Eichmann as thoughtless, rather than evil. Actually, I hadn’t realized that she was anything other than a political writer: she was just as focussed on the human condition as politics.