Monthly Archives: April 2022

‘The Winter Road’ by Kate Holden

2021, 336 p

When I think of a ranger being killed, my mind skips immediately to Kenya and those brave, short, sinewy green-clad men of the Kenya Wildlife Service. The idea of a ranger being killed in Australia is so jarring that it is immediately memorable, and that’s the way it was for Kate Holden when Glen Turner was shot in Talga Lane, Croppa Creek, near Moree in 2014. His murderer, Ian Turnbull, aged 79 died in prison of heart attack, after being sentenced to 35 years imprisonment.

This book is quite a change from Kate Holden’s previous books: the first, In My Skin a wonderful memoir of heroin addiction and sex work; the second The Romantic: Italian Nights and Days a follow-up autobiography. Here she shuttles between reportage and reflection on a real-life crime which extends beyond a cold dirt road in Croppa Creek to a broader meditation on land, legacy and its meaning not just for Ian Turnbull and Glen Turner, but for both black and white Australians more generally.

We know that Glen Turner dies because she tells us, in the short prologue. The book then divides into three sections: Trespass, Murder and Inheritance. There is a chronological progress through the crime – lead-up, crime, and consequences- but the chapters themselves interweave a range of themes. Take Chapter Two, for example. It starts with a description of the Brigalow Belt that extends between Townsville and mid-NSW, the qualities of Brigalow Acacia harpohylla, the story of wheat in Australia, land-clearing legislation, clashes between Ian Turnbull and the Office of Environment and Heritage, land-clearing around Moree, and interactions between Turner and Turnbull. There is observation, reportage of conversations that Holden has held with the main protagonists, and desktop research drawing on the work of ecologists and historians. This interweaving continues throughout the book but I, as reader, I always felt that she was in control of the narrative, moving it steadily forward.

The book starts with the theme of ‘Trespass’, and there are different types of trespass at work here. Ian Turnbull’s trespass against the environmental law of the land; his accusation that Glen Turner, as a representative of government, was trespassing against his rights as a land-owner; the original trespass of white settlement onto indigenous land.

The emotional heart of the book for me comes in part 2 ‘Murder’, where she takes a slow-motion view of the murder. Here, too, there is an interweaving between the physical murder of Glen Turner, and the ecological ‘murder’ of the brigalow through the voracious demand for agricultural land. The murder itself, with Glen Turner and his old colleague Robert Strange bailed up by the gun-wielding Ian Turnbull in their departmental ute, took between twenty and thirty minutes. Twenty to thirty minutes. I think of shoot-outs or physical fights which, however long they might appear to the protagonists, are over in minutes. The thought of this deliberate, drawn out, highly personal, game of cat and mouse at sunset on a lonely dirt road is chilling.

Part 3 ‘Inheritance’ looks at the fall-out from the murder, for Ian Turnbull and his family; for Glen Turner’s family; for Robert Strange and other government employees; for the broader Croppa Creek community. It has truly been a poisoned inheritance. It seemed to me at the start of the book that she was at pains to represent all sides fairly, or at least to acknowledge the validity of their viewpoint from their perspective. But in Part 3, especially with the passing of weakened environmental laws that rendered Glen Turner’s death completely futile, it seems that Holden cannot withhold her judgment any longer. This is not a weakness: on the contrary, it would be weakness to continue to stand on the sidelines after all the exhaustive research she has undertaken.

This is non-fiction writing at its best. It is founded in research, which has been integrated with observation, conversation and reflection. It travels much further than that dirt road at sunset, interrogating Western society’s relationship with land and what it means to ‘own’ property. It is a beautiful piece of work

My rating: 9/10

Sourced from: purchased e-book

I hear with my little ear: Podcasts 17-24 March 2021

Emperors of Rome. At this stage, the ‘Emperors of Rome’ podcast and the ‘History of Rome’ podcast part ways. Episode CLXIX – Gallus sees Trebonianus Gallus appointed by his troops in June 251 after Decius and his son Herennius Etruscus died during a battle with the Goths. Decius’ son remaining son Hostilianus died of the Cyprian Plague, which was ravaging the Empire. (Kyle Harper has written about this plague in The Fate of Rome: Climate, Disease and the End of an Empire, which sounds quite interesting). During Gallus’ two year reign, there were uprisings East and West. Aemilian, the governor of Moesia Superior and Pannonia, defeated the Goths and was declared emperor by his troops. Somehow or other Gallus ended up dead, but Aemiliain lasted only 88 days before he was murdered by his own forces. Valerian became emperor and ruled for 15 years, ending a phase of short-lived emperors.

History of Rome. 116- Here Come the Illyrians sees the start of a string of Illyrian emperors. Some people mark this as the end of the ‘real’ Roman Empire, but Mike Duncan asserts that they saved the empire. Claudius Gothicus had no aristocratic links at all. He had been Gallienus’ trusted general. Maybe he wasn’t actually involved in the assassination of Gallienus, but he probably would have known about it. Nonetheless he exiled or executed the ringleaders to ‘prove’ his clean hands. He was worried about the East and the rise of Zenobia, but he had to deal with the Goths first. He oversaw a change in policy of treatment of defeated enemies, which allowed the Goths to settle on land, as long as they provided men for the army. Claudius also defeated uprisings in Germany, and then turned to the Vandals. An emperor’s work is never done. The future Emperor Aurelian was 2nd in charge when Claudius died of the plague in 270 AD. In Episode 117- Aurelian’s Walls, Mike Duncan raises the question: when you say that someone is ‘the greatest’ do you mean that they were the greatest at their peak, or do you look at their whole career? Duncan reckons that Aurelian was ‘peak emperor’ between 270 and 275, when he consolidated power in Italy, then went off to battle the Vandals. He employed the tactic of withdrawing all resources into a village, and then defending that village. When he defeated tribes, he insisted on a quota of soldiers, which eventuated in the Germanization of the Legions.

Despite his victory on the field, when he returned in triumph to Rome, he was faced with riots because people were unnerved by earlier defeats under Aurelian’s leadership; bread prices were high, and there was corruption over the mint. The old tactic of garrisoning the frontiers employed by Augustus and Hadrian no longer worked, because the invasions were bigger and it was the emperor (rather than a general) who was rushing around at the head of the army. Cities were vulnerable and needed their own walls, so Aurelian ordered a big wall around Rome (as the old 4th BCE wall was no longer sufficient. It was constructed rapidly, using existing buildings where possible, and using civilian rather than military labour. Nonetheless, the walls took 5 years to complete.

The Daily (New York Times) Ukraine Puts Putin’s Playbook to the Test (March 24, 2022) features NY Times journalist Carlotta Gall, who covered the Chechen conflict 30 years ago. She believes that there are real similarities between the two, so much so that when she hears Ukranian citizens vowing to remain, she wants to warn them just how dire it will become in the face of Russia’s ruthlessness. However, factors in Ukraine’s favour are: first, that it is much bigger than Chechnya with a population of 40 million as opposed to 1 million; second that it is already an independent country; third that it has Western recognition and finally that there is an adjoining country that fighters can withdraw to when the going gets too tough. But she reckons that if Putin follows the same strategy, it will get tough.

Australia If You’re Listening (ABC) Even though I’m a big Matt Bevan fan, I didn’t really particularly fancy this season about Australia’s politics of climate change. But when the first episode was inserted into the Coronacast podcast, I started listening (which just goes to show how hijacking an episode of a program can work). Episode 1 The legacy of our first decisions on climate change points out that warming of the environment through burning coal was first publicized in 1912. The tenor for Australia’s approach was set by none other than Labor minister Roz Kelly, who promised that Australia would not move faster than any other developed country – and we haven’t. The program looks at a big conference held in 1987 where, for the first time, scientists discussed climate change, then moves onto Kyoto and the significance of the ‘Australian clause’ over land-clearing. Interestingly, Roz Kelly defends Robert Hill, the Lib/NP Minister for the Environment who led Australia’s delegation to Kyoto- lauded by John Howard as a great result for Australia. Humpf.

I hear with my little ear: Podcasts 9-16 March 2022

The Daily (New York Times) I’m doing a fair bit of listening about Ukraine at the moment. In Four Paths Forward in Ukraine (March 17) David Sanger, White House and national security correspondent for The New York Times, explores four scenarios: 1. The diplomatic path- Ukraine agrees to Russian demands to give up any claim on Crimea; accepts independence of Donetsk and Luhansk; declarse its neutrality; and promises never to join NATO. Russia would demand that all sanctions be lifted. Scenario 2: A long war of attrition, with Russia ‘winning’ but an ongoing Ukranian insurgency (which Sanger thinks is likely). Third scenario: China helps Russia. Sanger thinks that China will just sit back and watch how things play out for now. They might assist, but from behind the scenes. Scenario 4: Putin decides to expand the conflict beyond Ukraine.

Axios – How it Happened. This series on Ukraine just has two episodes so far. Episode 1 Putin’s Invasion Part I: How We Got Here features Axios’ world editor Dave Lawler talking about how Putin came to power and how he has wielded that power. The podcast also features “our Aussie” Jonathan Swan, speaking about his exclusive Axios on HBO interview with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky. Trump, Zelensky- is there anyone he hasn’t interviewed? Episode 2 Putin’s Invasion Part II: The Consequences discusses President Biden’s decades of political experience with Russia and the sanctions the U.S. and Europe have brought against the country. It also explains why it’s so hard for the West to cut ties with Russia when it comes to energy, and why the Biden administration chose to do so even if it would send gas prices soaring.

History of Rome Podcast. Episode 113- Three Empires. Although the Roman Empire now split into three, Mike Duncan argues that all three empires remained culturally Roman, and that’s what’s important. Following the capture of Valerian in 260 AD, the western provinces broke away to form a separate Empire and the east became controlled by the city of Palmyra where Odaenathus was the last stop on the Silk Road. He defeated the Sassanids, and so he was mollycoddled a bit by the Romans who, deep down, thought he was a bit of a barbarian. Meanwhile Postumus was up on the Danube. At this time, local troops threw their support behind their own commander as Emperor, and when he had a stunning victory, Postumus was acclaimed emperor of Gaul, Germania, Britannia and Hispania in what was known as the Gallic Empire. Meanwhile Gallienus concentrated on the centre of the empire. He hit on the idea of the mobile cavalry as a way of reinforcing his authority, and it was a good psychological connection with the provinces to have the cavalry come by occasionally. In Episode 114 The Nadir of our Fortunes, Mike Duncan reminds us of the mess that the Empire was in, with the Sassanids in the East, the Goths on the Danube, the Alamanni in Italy and the Franks in the West. He then backtracks to Odaenathus over in the East, who was seen as a bit of a saviour when Macrinus and his son were killed, and he took over. Over in the west, Postumus was chosen by his own troops, and he happily embraced Aureolus, Gallienus’ top general, when he defected to Postumus. Gallienus had concentrated his efforts on Rome, but the senators hated him because he turned to military men instead of Senators- so he ended up with a bad rap from the historical sources. He founded four mints near the big military deployments so that the soldiers could be paid on time, but this just caused inflation and debasement of the currency. In the end Gallienus defeated Aureolus in battle, but then he was shot (probably assassinated). Episode 115 Phase Two Complete sees the almost simultaneous deaths of Gallienus, Odenathus and Postumus in the Late 260s. The Goths were coming south and Odenathus was assassinated by his nephew -(why? Personal reasons? or was his wife Zenobia behind it?) Zenobia stepped right in to the role of emperor of the east, assuming that she had the right as Odeanthus’ widow. The Goths sailed down and sacked Athens. When Gallienus left Rome to fight the Goths, his trusted general Aureolus mounted a revolt. Gallienus was assassinated in a conspiracy of his top officers. The troops rallied around Claudius, who demanded the head of Aureolus.

Emily Greene Balch. I prepared a presentation for my Unitarian fellowship on the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom (WILPF), and the connection with the Australian Church’s Sisterhood of International Peace. Emily Greene Balch was raised a Unitarian in America (although she later joined the Quakers) and, along with Jane Addams, was a founding member of WILPF. This podcast, from the Internet Archive, is of Kristen E. Gwinn talking about Balch at First Church of Jamaica Plains (which Balch and her family attended). A pretty formidable woman. She was one of the pacifists who was really challenged by the rise of Fascism, and ended up siding with ‘freedom’ over ‘peace’.

Now and Then I’ve been listening to American historian Heather Cox Richardson for quite a while, and she has started a podcast with fellow historian Joanne Freeman called ‘Now and Then’. As you might expect from two American historians, it is VERY American focussed, but in the episode Avatars of Democracy, they express their admiration for Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky. They then look at three other historical leaders who fought for democracy: the French-born Revolutionary War hero Lafayette, the Latin American liberator Simón Bolívar, and South African political prisoner and president Nelson Mandela.

Six degrees of separation: From Our Wives Under the Sea to….

Does having a book on reserve at the library count as having read it? Probably not. So, I must confess to not having read Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield, the starting book for April’s Six Degrees of Separation Meme. A literary association game, Kate at Books Are My Favourite and Best chooses the starting book, and participants name six books that spring to mind because of some association- no matter how obscure- with the starting book.

I could instantly think of many books about the sea, but I have chosen to stick to the idea of being under water.

The first book that I thought of is Margo Lanagan’s Sea Hearts (2012). I have no idea what happened in Armfield’s book, but I have always been attracted to books and films about selkies (I absolutely loved the film The Secret of Roan Inish).

It’s a beautifully told story, spun out over several generations. It is set on remote Rollrock Island, with its village of fisherfolk and small cottages. The chapters are of varying lengths, told in the first person in a curious, lilting accent. Each chapter focuses on a different character and time elapses between generation to generation. One of the longest and most compelling chapters is told by Missakaella, an awkward young woman, shunned by the villagers, drawn to the sea and especially the seals in the bay. They are attracted to her, too, and her mother forces her to wear an apron with crossed strings, that somehow keeps the seals at bay. It is through Missakaella that the age-old meeting between selkie and human is reconsummated. It is a powerful and evocative piece of writing that I found oddly, and breath-holdingly erotic. That’s quite a narrative feat: to not only be lulled into suspending disbelief about the physicality between seal and woman, but to actually stir a response to it as well. But actions have consequences: obsession becomes possession; love becomes loss; something taken can take in return.

See my review here

I’m fascinated by lands under the sea- in particular Doggerland, which existed in the North Sea and English Channel 18,000 years ago, making what we now know as the United Kingdom a contiguous part of Europe. It was not a land ‘bridge’, which suggests a narrow and tentative link between UK and Europe. Instead it was a fertile plain, with its own coastlines and rivers, with humans roaming across it. It was not a route from one place to another, but a territory in its own right. Julia Blackburn’s Time Song (2019) is an environmental history, but it is more:

But it’s also a very human story because of the way she tells it. Her search is narrated almost as a conversational journey, as she meets with this person and that, and as she relates her own reminiscences of places and items she has herself found. Collectors and academics share their enthusiasms with her, and indirectly with us too. There is a lot of science in this book (and her list of acknowledgments at the back of the book demonstrates her debt to academia) but it’s written very much in layman’s terms. Her response to the academic literature is expressed in 18 ‘Time Song’ poems, which intersect the text, each preceded by a black and white drawings by Enrique Brinkmann.

See my review here.

Doggerbank may be well and truly under the sea, but in James Boyce’s Imperial Mud: The Fight for the Fens (2020) we have man fighting against the encroachment of water in ‘The Fens’ in Cambridgeshire, Lincolnshire, Norfold and the Isle of Axholme in Yorkshire. The Fens, he explains, are not a precise location, given that the creeks and waterways that constitute them have always been an ever-changing phenomenon. James Boyce is an Australian historian, so this book seems a bit of a departure for him. But his focus is ‘colonization’, which can occur within a country, as well as overseas.

It is this bi-focal approach to colonization, seeing it as a process wielded in Britain and well as by Britain that is the real strength of this book, prompted by Boyce’s deep engagement with Indigenous history here in Australia. I must confess as an Australian reader, I found myself wishing that I knew more British history and geography. … Boyce is an incisive and economical writer, carefully attuned to landscape and ecology, continuity and change. His book is only small, but it makes an argument about colonization and resistance with its feet planted in two different, widely separated continents.

Read my review here

There’s plenty of water in Northern NSW and Queensland at the moment, and I’ve found myself thinking recently of Margaret Cook’s A River with a City Problem: A History of Brisbane Floods (2019). She takes as her focus the 2011 floods which devastated the homes and businesses along the Brisbane River, right into the CBC.

This book tells the story of the three major floods – 1893, 1974 and 2011 – from ecological, geographical and human perspectives. More importantly, though, it looks at the failure of policy as successive governments of both persuasions lacked the courage to say ‘enough!’ and prevent development on the floodplain. In the aftermath of a crisis, there’s a proud defiance in claiming that” we will rebuild” but often it defeats good sense.

See my review here

Fish live under the sea. And people bob around in boats and stand on the river banks trying to catch them. Historian Anna Clark takes a bit of a detour here from her interest in the historiography and teaching of Australian history to tell the history of fishing in Australia in The Catch: The Story of Fishing in Australia (2017). She shares her own love of fishing not just in the “we” language that Clark deploys, but also in the carefully crafted ‘fisher’s-eye’ paragraphs that commence each chapter.

Its copious and beautiful illustrations mark it out as a coffee-table book, but the text ranges beyond the ‘whoa! look at that!’ response to a photograph of a big fish. Its author, Anna Clark, is well known in academic circles for her work on public history and history teaching and she brings to the book an awareness of sources and a keen sense of finding history in the everyday. Most importantly, she brings her own love of fishing to the text, and I think that this is what fishers will respond most to in this book.

See my review here

Natural resources are under the sea as well. And as Bernard Collaery has found to his chagrin in Oil Under Troubled Water: Australia’s Timor Sea Intrigue (2020), governments are fiercely protective of the negotiations that govern their use by competing nations. Bernard Collaery is a former Attorney-General of the Australian Capital Territory and worked for many years as legal counsel to the government of East Timor. In May 2018 he was charged by the Australian Commonwealth Director of Public Prosecutions with conspiracy to breach the Intelligence Services Act of 2001, introduced in the wake of September 11. He, and Witness K, a former senior ASIS agent, have been effectively gagged over a claim that ASIS had bugged the offices of the East Timorese team during negotiations over Timor Sea oil. Actually, even though I am very interested in the legal ramifications of Collaery’s silencing, and the sorry tale of Australia’s treatment of East Timor in these negotiations, I found the book quite difficult to read.

This, then, is a history of Australia’s dealings with East Timor and Indonesia over the oil resources- and more importantly, the helium reserves- in the Timor Sea. It moves chronologically, but it is a lawyer’s argument rather than a historian’s….I did manage to finish this book, but I found it very hard to read. Inexplicably, there is no map until page 362 and in a book that bristles with acronyms, there is no glossary. It is meticulous, with every fact noted, but it groans under the weight of so much detail. My gut feeling all those years ago was that Australia was acting like a bully, and this book only confirmed it further.

Read my review here

Well, with the exception of the Lanagan book, I’ve drawn on non-fiction books in this Six Degrees with a heavy dose of history.

‘Bruny’ by Heather Rose

2019, 424 p.

This book was nothing like I thought it would be. I don’t know quite what I was expecting, but I wasn’t expecting a political thriller, a rather hum-drum love story and too many of my own political opinions stuffed down my throat. It does, however, raise questions about political expediency in a time of climate crisis while, rather unfortunately, ramping up anti-Chinese rhetoric.

The book is set in the near future, and a beautifully designed, two billion dollar bridge connecting Bruny Island and mainland Tasmania has just exploded. With an election on the horizon, the Chinese consortium funding the bridge receives clearance to bring in Chinese workers to ensure that the bridge meets its opening date schedule. Astrid Coleman, the sister of both the Tasmanian Premier ‘JC’ and (rather implausibly) also of the Tasmanian Opposition Leader Max, is summoned home to liaise between the pro- and anti- bridge lobby groups and, to a lesser extent, find out who sabotaged the bridge and why.

This professional summons by her brother is matched by the personal summons of family, with her father succumbing to dementia by quoting apposite slabs of Shakespeare and her mother in the last stages of cancer. She has a difficult relationship with her mother -and near the end of the book we learn why – and despite the different political allegiances of her siblings, she loves them both.

This near-future world is a plausible extrapolation of our own. A Trump-like US president has won a second term, there is a King on the throne in England and climate change is wreaking its own ongoing crisis. But I found the banging of the present-day political drum through Astrid’s first-person observations too blatant and too instrusive, even though they match my own. Who knows what I would have thought of them had I been on the other side of the political divide. Moreover, I suspect that many of the celebrity-culture references will date badly. I found the political scenario, when it was finally revealed, to be rather implausible, but nonetheless interesting to contemplate.

The descriptions of scenery are really well written, and Rose captures well the sense of love that place can engender in us. But the whole book felt a little too ‘Womens Weekly Good Read’ for me – although that I doubt that it would earn a gold sticker from that august publication on account of its political stance. But overall, the book felt rather too much like someone shouting at the television. I can do that for myself: I don’t need my books to do it for me.

My rating: 7/10

Sourced from: Yarra Plenty Regional Library.