‘Bright Shining: How Grace Changes Everything’ by Julia Baird

2023, 279 p.

The first thought that comes into my mind if you say the word “grace” is the physical sense of poise, dignity and a quiet confidence. The other meanings of “grace” seem to me to have been co-opted by religion – particularly Christianity- and I’m rather less comfortable with that. In this book, Julia Baird explores the concept of “grace” in ever-widening circles: Our Souls, Ourselves in Part I; Our Circles in Part II, Our Strangers in Part III, Our Sins in Part IV and Our Senses in Part V. I think that even this structural skeleton of the book highlights its major weakness: trying to stretch the concept to cover too much. It is a digressive book, interweaving research, commentary and her own personal struggle with cancer, and I’m not sure that she completely succeeds here.

As it says on the front cover:

Grace is both mysterious and hard to define. It can be found when we create ways to find meaning and dignity in connection with each other, building on our shared humanity, being kinder, bigger, better with each other. If, in its crudest interpretation, karma is getting what you deserve, then grace is the opposite: forgiving the unforgivable, favouring the undeserving, loving the unlovable.

Which all sounds rather gooey and do-goody to me.

In Part I she does try to define “grace”, noting that it is wrapped in the everyday but still extraordinary (p. 8). Her definition which remains nebulous, comprises three elements:

  1. to be fully, thrillingly alive
  2. something undeserved
  3. the ability to see good in the other and to recognize their humanity

Part I Our Souls comprises two chapters. Chapter 1 ‘2.3 Grams’ considers the 1907 experiment of weighing a soul: the difference in weight between when someone is still alive, and when they have died. Chapter 2: Anonymous Samaritans explores the phenomenon of blood donations, and why people might do something altruistic for people they will never meet.

Part II Our Circles has four chapters, two of which are largely autobiographical. In Chapter 3 ‘Grace Inherited’ she writes of her mother, who visited women in prison, most particularly Katherine Knight who was jailed for life without parole for the horrific murder of her boyfriend. Yet her mother spoke of Knight’s gentleness. This chapter is bookended by Baird’s response to her mother’s death, sitting vigil as she died, and then the grace of a friend afterwards. Chapter 4 ‘Icarus Flew’ continues the theme of grief as she talks about the death of an ex-boyfriend in a Garuda aircrash, and the difficulty of finding a place for grief as a former girlfriend in the hierarchy of grief. Chapters 5 (‘Inhale the World’: An Ode to the Fire of Teenage Girls) and Chapter 6 (‘On Being Decent Men’) are particularly apposite as the spotlight on domestic violence has turned to changing attitudes amongst men and boys – an approach that I find rather insufficient, personally.

Part III Our Strangers is again a bit of a grab-bag. Chapter 7 ‘Other People’s Lives’ points out that we see only a sliver of other people’s reality, and that grace would extend our lens further to see the whole person. Chapter 8 ‘The Comfort of Strangers’ talks about kindness of others, especially during travelling when through unfamiliarity and language problems, we are often at the mercy of people unknown to us. Grace? or just human decency and empathy? Chapter 9 ‘The Discomfort of Estrangers’ looks at the obverse: the harassment of online warriors liberated by anonymity. In Chapter 10 ‘Restlaufzeit: In the Time We Have Left We Must Dance’ she returns to the theme of illness and the precariousness and preciousness of life, both for herself and for others.

Part IV Our Sins is the longest section of the book, and while I found this the most interesting part of the book, Chapter 11 ‘Napoleon’s Penis: What We Choose to Remember’ does not seem to fit into the other chapters, which deal more with forgiveness and justice. In Chapter 11 she discusses public memory, the role of the historian, and what we choose to remember in public figures. Moving then to forgiveness and justice, in Chapter 12 she looks at ‘When You Can’t Forgive’; the expectation that women in particular should forgive, and the potential for weaponization of forgiveness by imposing it on the victim. This is picked up again in Chapter 13 ‘The Stolen Generations: What Does Forgiveness Mean?’ where she reminds us of Scott Morrison’s exhortation that forgiveness be displayed the part of Aboriginal people. This completely ham-fisted ‘suggestion’ was brusquely rejected by indigenous people who bridled at the inappropriateness of placing an expectation of forgiveness onto another person. In Chapter 14 ‘We Will Wear You Down with Our Love’ she turns to truth-telling, and the treatment of Stan Grant by the ABC and other media commentators, especially those from the right-wing press. Chapter 15 ‘The Callus: On Restorative Justice’ refers to the callus, the fibre that knits bones together, and she looks at Restorative Justice schemes as a way of knitting together after injury, starting with the story of Debbie McGrath, who participated in one such scheme eleven years after her brother was killed by his best friend. In Chapter 16 ‘A Broken Place: People Who Have Forgiven’ she explores examples of forgiveness rooted in faith, whether it be Christianity, Islam or Judaism. While I found these interesting, I think that they would have been better framed in a discussion of forgiveness in its own right, rather than trying to squeeze them into a ‘grace’ framework.

Part V ‘Our Senses’ is only short. Chapter 17 ‘Fever Dreams’ again refers to her experience of cancer, and her determination to be “fully, thrillingly alive”. In Chapter 18, the last of the book, she returns to the idea of ‘grace’, referencing the hymn Amazing Grace, from which she has taken the title.

As you can see, this book wanders off down a number of different pathways, all of which are enjoyable enough to follow, but which do not cohere into a rounded whole. Which is ironic really, as one of the definitions of ‘grace’ that she cites in the book is that given by Marilynne Robinson who described grace as an ethical “understanding of the wholeness of a situation”. This is the definition which most resonated with me, and the one to which I (unsuccessfully, I’m afraid) aspire.

My rating: 7.5/10

Read because: It was on the shelf.

I hear with my little ear: Podcasts 8-15th May 2024

History Extra The Bloomsbury Group: everything you wanted to know. Good heavens, this was released in January! The Bloomsbury Group started as an ‘at home’ at 46 Gordon Square Bloomsbury, amongst people who wanted to live differently. Vanessa (Bell) and Virginia (Woolf) Stephen were at the heart of it. They then moved to Kensington, and young men from Cambridge would come for cocoa after 10.00 p.m. The group included Lytton Strachey, Toby Stephen, Duncan Grant (with the beautiful voice, who nearly everyone was in love with at some stage), J. Maynard Keynes, Clive Bell, Saxon Sydney-Turner, Roger Fry. Leonard Woolf differed from the rest in that he did not come from a privileged background. The group moved from the sitting room into public debate, although they did not share a unified political position. There were all sorts of triangles, especially revolving around the homosexual Duncan Grant, who nonetheless had a child with Vanessa Bell. The group, most definitely an elite, nonetheless moved into the centre of English life in the fields of economics, literature and art.

You’re Dead to Me (BBC) Simón Bolívar I’ve been interested in Simón Bolívar for some time, and so I was interested in this rather irreverent podcast featuring Dr Francisco Eissa-Barroso and comedian Katie Green, who really knew more about Latin American history than she let on. Simón Bolívar, or ‘The Liberator’ as he was known, was responsible for the overthrowing of Spanish colonialism in six countries, but he himself distrusted democracy. He was born in Venezuela to a very rich plantation-owning family. In 1799 he joined the militia, went to Madrid and married a woman who died of yellow fever soon after they returned to Venezuela. He visited post-Revolutionary Paris where he was both impressed and repelled by Napoleon, and he committed himself to independence from Spain. His first attempt was when Caracas declared itself independent from Spain in an attempt to avoid being taken over by Napoleonic France. Along with Miranda, who he had met in exile in London, he headed a rebellion, but an ill-timed earthquake seemed to be God’s punishment and the rebellion collapsed, Miranda fled and Bolívar was captured. His second attempt was a three month campaign, marked by atrocities on both sides, but after making himself dictator (in the Roman sense of a dictator for emergency times), he was overthrown in a counter-revolution. He was almost killed by an assassin, but the assassin killed the wrong man. and Bolívar then decided on a third attempt, planning to attack New Granada instead and invade Caracas from there. He was successful, and Peru and Bolivia became independent nations too. He drafted the Bolivian Constitution, which had some liberal elements but some pretty illiberal ones too- like being able to name his successor. He met Manuela, whom he loved but did not marry because he had sworn not to remarry after the death of his first wife. Manuela saved him from a second assassination attempt. But by 1830 everything was falling apart, the various nations seceded and went their own way, and he died. Nonetheless, he has been used as a unifying political myth, especially by Chavez.

The Rest is History Luther: The Man Who Changed the World (Part I) is the first of a five part series. Obviously Tom and Dominic are becoming fans of the long-form podcast over several episodes. But let’s face it: Luther did shake things up. But would there have been a Reformation even if there were no Martin Luther? Luther himself was born in an outpost of religious thought, the son of a pugilistic, upwardly-mobile ex-miner from a smelting plant. Martin was the pious, educated eldest son growing up in apocalyptic times, with Islam on the march. He was a brilliant student, but there was nothing to suggest the influence he would have later on. The First Reformation had occurred in the 11th century when the medieval church divided the world into two realms: the early and the Church. The clergy became professional Christians, Latin was introduced into the mass, and the scheme of indulgences was established. Huss, a precursor to Luther, had proclaimed that the Bible was the ultimate source of authority, and ended up arrested and burned in 1414.

All of Us: Homegrown

Usually on the second Saturday of every month, I go to the cinema with my Unitarian Universalist fellowship. But this month, there weren’t any movies that seemed appealing showing at the right time, so I decided to go to a concert where one of my Unitarian friends and her husband were singing. The group is called ‘All of Us’, conducted by Stephen Sharpe and they were excellent.

The program ‘Homegrown’ reflected the fact that all of the pieces that they performed were written either by locals, choir members or friends. People are just so talented: I’m in awe of them. There were two beautiful, and complementary songs about war. In the first, ‘One of Us’ conductor Stephen Sharpe took Paul Keating and Don Watson’s words at the funeral service for the Unknown Soldier . The second, with words and music by Bruce Watson, was called ‘The War Without a Name’ and it marked the loss of life in the Frontier Wars that it has taken us so long to recognize as a war, instead of anodyne phrases like ‘dispersal’ and ‘clearing the area’. There was a song that paid tribute to the joy of owning 72 Derwent pencils as a child (I only ever had 36), and another that captured so well the ‘Ennui’ of lockdown. Bruce Watson’s other song ‘Love is’ took the words of Corinthians 13, and it was beautifully rendered by the choristers each taking a stanza in turn. The concert was beautifully accompanied by cello, violin, guitar and piano.

The concert was held at Montsalvat, the artists’ colony out at Eltham, and it felt very special to have all the composers either up there performing on the stage, or else in the audience. It was really good- and even better knowing that it was so local. What riches our community holds!

I hear with my little ear: Podcasts 1-7 May 2024

History Extra An Obscenity Trial That Shocked Victorian Britain tells the story of Annie Besant and her friend and partner-in-crime Charles Bradlaugh who published a book Fruits of Philosophy by American writer Charles Knowlton about conception and contraception. Annie Besant had married a minister at the age of 18, but the marriage was unhappy and she left him. Her husband retained custody of one of her two children. She became a needleworker and went to Bethnal Green where she met Charles Bradlaugh, a dissenting minister. He was 40 and she was 26. In 1876 he encouraged her to speak publicly about contraception (something that women rarely did) to the National Secular Society. When the bookseller of Fruits of Philosophy was arrested and fined, she wanted to be arrested for publishing it as well, as a test case. She represented herself in a highly publicized case. The jury found the book obscene, but Besant and Bradlaugh were found not guilty. Meanwhile, her former husband sued for custody of her other child. She was involved with the Fabians, Home Rule and she championed the cause of the Match Girls. She went to India and became involved in Theosophy, which led her to renounce her books, smashing the plates so that they couldn’t be republished. Given that US politicians are invoking the Comstock Act of 1873 to prevent the sale of abortion drugs today, it’s a throw-back to the days when selling and publishing information about contraception was illegal.

Lives Less Ordinary (BBC) My Grandmother Walked the Rabbit Proof Fence Australians are familiar with the story of the young indigenous girls who walked the Rabbit Proof fence after being stolen from their families, but I’m not sure how widely their story spread internationally. So it’s important that the BBC has picked up this story. What I didn’t realize is that -shamefully- the story spread across three generations, right up to recent events. Doris Pilkington, who wrote the book (which I reviewed here) has now died, and the story is being taken up by Maria Pilkington, her daughter, who herself had to resist attempts to have her own child taken from her. A sobering corrective to the idea that all this was long ago and long past.

The Rest is History. Episode 432 Titanic: The Survivors (Part 6). And so I finally come to the end of this 6-part series- surely the longest that Tom and Dominic have done so far. They talk about the aftermath of the sinking and the rescue by the Cunard ship ‘Carpathian’. They point out that gender was more important than class: 74% of women and 52.3% of children survived, but only 20% of men survived. They suggest that the death rate was so high in second class because of the values of deference and not wanting to make a fuss. At first the London newspapers said that few had died. The port cities of Southampton and Liverpool were particularly affected because so many of the crew came from those cities. People wanted someone to blame, and Ismay was the man, as was reflected in James Cameron’s film, but as a later inquiry headed by Lord Mersey found, the Titanic adhered to what was “standard practice” at the time. But very soon the sinking was cast in a proud, jingoistic, heroic mode. Many suffered from survivors’ guilt. The first film was made just four weeks after the sinking, starring an actress who had actually been on the boat. The 1955 book A Night to Remember by Walter Lord was written from interviews, but Lord didn’t actually take notes. Then of course there is the James Cameron film, which has immortalized the sinking for a new generation. The sinking took place two years before WWI, and has come to represent a cliched metaphor of gathering disaster. The Bishop of Winchester blamed greed and capitalism, and Winston Churchill used it as an excuse to have a slap at lady teachers (of all people). A good series.

Being Roman (BBC) Episode 5 Battling Bureaucrats tells the story of Apolinarius of Panopolis who is an obsequious, pedantic middle-ranking bureaucrat in Egypt, who is freaking out because Emperor Diocletian is going to visit, and nothing is ready. He wrote 12 letters over two weeks in which he threatened, cajoled and upbraided traders and other bureaucrats, but he was essentially impotent as everyone was covering their own arse. One of the demands he was making was for marble columns from Aswan and he did manage to get those. They were used in constructing baths, but they ended up in a church where they stand today.

‘So Late in the Day’ by Claire Keegan

2023, 47 p.

Claire Keegan is a very, very good short story writer. Within less than fifty pages she can create a whole world and characters that you respond to – and in this case, with increasing wariness and dislike. It’s a short story, so spelling out the plot would eviscerate it completely, so I’m not going to even try. The most I can do is tell you that it is set on a sunny Friday morning in Dublin, and Cathal is at work even though the date was, or should have been, an important one.

I’m glad that she changed the title that she had originally chosen for this book, which I’m not going to tell you either. You can read it at the end of the book after your quick afternoon’s read of the whole thing. By changing the title, she allows you as a reader to come to your own opinions about the characters, instead of having it framed for you from the start.

But Faber takes us for mugs. This $20.00 hardback could be read in an hour for a rapid reader. It appeared in the New Yorker magazine in February 2022, as have other of her stories. I guess that Faber are cashing in while they can, but I can’t help feeling a bit ripped off. I’m glad I got it from the library instead.

My rating: 9/10

Sourced from: Yarra Plenty Regional Library

Six Degrees of Separation: from ‘Butter’ to …

Well, it’s the first Saturday again, so that means its Six Degrees of Separation Day, hosted by Kate at Books Are My Favourite and Best. She chooses the starting book, then you think of six other titles that you have read that are related to the starting book in some way. Once again, I haven’t read the starting book Butter – haven’t even heard of it- so where to go now?

Well, Butter is nearly Butterfly which is yet another Sonya Hartnett book about brutal places where damaged children are lacerated by cruelty and neglect. Actually, I didn’t enjoy it at all (my review here)

There’s any number of books about damaged children, but one that I enjoyed more was Shuggie Bain by Douglas Stewart. It’s about a little boy growing up with his alcoholic mother, and Stewart catches well the emotional nuances of a child’s sense of obligation and persistence in keeping on hoping, and trying to keep a parent sober. My review is here.

Shuggie Bain was set in Scotland, which made me think of Don Watson’s Caledonia Australis, an excellent early (1984) book about the Highland Clearances in Scotland, and their contribution to emigration to Australia where similar hardships were being imposed on the indigenous people, often by Scots themselves. My review here.

I’ve read several historical and political books by Don Watson, but in Chloe Hooper’s Bedtime Story, Watson himself IS the story. Hooper is his wife, and she writes beautifully about his struggle with a rare and aggressive form of leukemia, and how to negotiate this territory with her six- and four- year old sons. I wanted to keep reading it, to acknowledge her humanity and generosity in sharing, such a vulnerable and intimate time, but I did feel as if I were intruding. My review here.

The idea of story leads me on to Catherine McKinnon’s Storyland. In this book each separate story builds chronologically onto the next one, with a link between each story until it reaches an apex, then goes back down again, revisiting each story in descending order. The stories are all set in the same geographical location: around Lake Illawarra (south of Sydney Cove and Botany Bay, near Wollongong). As the title and subtitle (‘the land is a book, waiting to be read’) suggest, the land is the unifying feature, although birds and a stone axe are also literary talismans that appear in each story. It’s a reflection on land, history, truth and omission. My review here.

Structurally, it was very similar to David Mitchell’s Cloud Atlas, which I felt was much better done and much less earnest. I loved Cloud Atlas, but I read it before I started blogging. So there’s no link to my review, but even the fact that I can still remember it suggests that it made quite an impression on me!

I hear with my little ear: Podcasts 24-30 April 2024

History Listen (ABC) Section 71 The Hindmarsh Island Bridge Affair Part 2 Times changed. Robert Tickner lost his seat in the 1996 election, and John Howard was now Prime Minister, voted in promising “bucketloads of extinguishment” of Native Title. In December 1996 the Hindmarsh Island Bridge Bill before Parliament specifically ruled out Doreen Kartinyeri’s cultural heritage challenge to the Hindmarsh Island Bridge proposal. The May 1998 case before the High Court challenged the power of the Federal Government to make laws using the ‘race powers’ of the Constitution against Aboriginal People. Kartinyeri’s case was not successful, with a 5-1 judgment against her. The developers of the bridge, the Chapmans, claimed $20 million compensation, and it went back to court. This time, in 2001, Justice John von Doussa of the Federal Court rejected the claims for malfeasance and was not satisfied that the restricted women’s knowledge was fabricated or that it was not part of genuine Aboriginal tradition. Since then, the panic among miners and pastoralists over Native Title has abated (although not gone away completely). In 2002 bones were found on Hindmarsh Island and a formal apology was issued by the local Alexandrina council. The bridge is still there.

Emperors of Rome Episode CIX Saturnalia. In Roman mythology, Saturn was the father of Jupiter, and he ceded his power to him. Saturnalia marked the end of the sowing time, before winter set in and was celebrated around 17 December, but the length of the celebration varied. Nonetheless, it was the longest festival that the Romans celebrated. It’s hard to tell exactly what they did as part of the celebrations. Fifth century sources tell us that there was a sacrifice at the Temple of Saturn, but other than that, it’s hard to work out. There may have been an element of topsy-turviness, with masters serving their servants- or maybe not.

History Hack and Little Atoms. I have just finished reading Sarah Churchwell’s The Wrath to Come (my review here) and so I though that I’d listen to a couple of podcasts interviews with the author. In the The History Hack podcast the author points out that Mitchell’s grandmother had seen the burning of Atlanta, and that Mitchell grew up with these stories, supplemented by a reading diet of plantation romances. GWTW is the ultimate rich-poor-rich again Cinderella story valorizing survival and resilience, with a strong female anti-hero. The Little Atoms episode covered much of the same territory, and she explains about the Lost Cause, and emphasizes that the book and the film is revisionist history.

Three Million BBC Episode 3: The F-word What really struck me about this episode is how closely it reflects what is going on in Gaza today. As with the Israeli/Western governments today, there was a real squeamishness about the word ‘famine’, and the British Government was using its wartime censorship powers to censor the letters passing between Indian soldiers and their families. In the end, even the British censor (based in India) felt very uncomfortable about the suppression of knowledge of the famine. Aware that the optics of people dying in the streets of Calcutta could be used for propaganda purposes by the Germans and Japanese, the Bengal Vagrancy Act was passed in July 1943 to get the bodies off the street. Stevens, a British journalist and editor of the English language Statesman newspaper in Calcutta, knew that any text would be censored, but he realized that there was a loophole which would allow photographs to escape censorship. So he sent out a team of photographers, and the following week was emboldened to write an editorial condemning the lack of action. By October, it was being raised in Parliament, and the BBC was drawn into conflict with the government over the “India Food Question” (they still couldn’t say ‘famine’). Then a book called ‘Hungry Bengal’ was published which showed sketches of starving Indians. Of course, it was banned, but there is one copy in the British Library and here a starving man actually gets a name. Three million didn’t.

Things Fell Apart Episode 7 You’ll Own Nothing and You’ll Be Happy The theory of ‘The Great Reset’ which has been protested by people caught up in the sovereign citizen movement was centred on the idea that the World Economic Forum had plans for a radical reordering of society, expunging private property and restricting people’s movement to a small geographical area. It drew on several individually innocuous proposals: a suggestion of bus lanes; a business of ‘sleep pods’, and especially a thought experiment piece presented to the World Economic Forum speculating on the implications of products being turned into services (I guess, in the way that DVDs and CDs which we used to own are now streaming services). These ideas became weaponized, and their proponents demonized in a way that they never anticipated.

‘The Weekend’ by Charlotte Wood

2021, 288 p.

I’m trying to resist the temptation to think that this book was written to order: ” This’ll attract sales -how about a book about aging women that book groups can discuss!?” It certainly felt as if it were aimed at an educated, older female audience of readers. Aging, women’s friendships, betrayal… all set in a beachside setting over the Christmas weekend on the central coast of NSW.

Jude, Wendy and Adele, all in their seventies, have been going to Silvie’s beachside house for Christmas for years, and they head there again. But this time it is different: Silvie has died, and they have come to clean out the house for sale. The 1970s house has seen better days despite its ocean views, with its creaking inclinator (i.e. lift) obviating the need to scramble up the steep cliffside driveway, and it is full of the greasy, musty, scurf and accumulated detritus of a long residence. Jude, successful restaurant manager, has arrived to work; widowed public intellectual Wendy has brought her sick, old, mangy dog Finn, and washed-up actress Adele has come as an escape from her female partner who has been quite insistent that their relationship is at an end. They are all well aware that this phase of their life and friendship has come to an end.

They have been friends for over forty years, and I guess that in that time you could accumulate a long list of slights and peeves. They are judgmental of each other and hold secrets and deceptions from each other. Jude is the long-term mistress of the married Daniel, with whom she spends a week a year at the beach-house after the other women have gone home. Rather implausibly, these long-term friends have never met Daniel, although they are aware of his existence. Wendy is in the final stages of her academic career, but she feels that she still has one final book in her. She had two children, now adults, with her husband Lance, and after his death her friend Sylvie brought her the puppy Finn, who by now is a blind, deaf, incontinent and confused dog, who should have been put down long before. Adele has not worked for some time, but still dresses in skin-tight tops to reveal her cleavage and takes pride in her athleticism. However, years of sporadic theatre work have left her financially distressed and she has not worked in a long time, even though some other actresses her age have continued to do so.

The story is set over just a couple of days, and it felt rather like a play. I read this immediately after reading Demon Copperhead, which was such an exhilarating experience that this felt particularly jejune in comparison. It was a particularly ‘interior’ book, with lots of backstory and cogitation, revolving around relationships and choices and responses to aging and loss. She did capture the setting well: I could ‘see’ the house, and even the characters, in my mind’s eye, and there was a veracity in the complexity and ambivalence in their relationship together. I was surprised that Wood herself is ‘only’ 58 because she wrote well about aging women’s bodies and the indignities that they subject us to. But I can’t help feeling that she was writing to a particular audience- me- and perhaps the stereotypes she held up were just a little bit too close to home.

My rating: 7/10

Read because: CAE bookgroup

I hear with my little ear: Podcasts 16-23 April 2024

I Was a Teenage Fundamentalist Episode 97 What about Progressive Christianity? I must say, that when I was an evangelical Christian about 40 years ago, I didn’t ever have a problem with Christianity and Progressivism. I think that it says more about modern evangelical Christianity than it does about me, that there could even be a tension between the two. In this episode, Brian and Troy talk with Rev. Tim Costello, someone I generally admire for his work on refugees and gambling. In the introduction Brian and Troy give a trigger warning for how much Christianity is going to follow: I bet that Tim Costello hadn’t been introduced with a trigger warning before! I do find his frequent declarations that “I believe in Jesus” rather strident, given the general progressiveness of the rest of the podcasts- what does that mean? Resurrection? Salvation? etc.

Three Million Episode 2: The Cigarette Tin When the Japanese invaded Calcutta (I didn’t know they did!), people fled their lands and crowded into the cities. Because the British government was requisitioning supplies, the price of rice rocketed. Amartya Sen, one of the interviewees, who lived a comfortable middle class childhood, speaks of his mother allowing him to give half a cigarette tin of rice to people in his immediate neighbourhood who asked for it. The British Government refused to free up ships as a mere ‘goodwill gesture’ and merchants were buying up rice and stockpiling it. It was a class-based famine.

The Rest is History Episode 431: Titanic: Nightmare at Midnight (Part 5) The two hours and 40 minutes that it took the Titanic to sink makes it seem like a performance to us. Survivors mention the crunch (like running over gravel) as it hit the iceberg, then silence. People were paralyzed by deference, inertia and compliance. CQD (‘All stations help’), the emergency code, was sent out (SOS had been introduced 4 years earlier but was not in widespread use). All the crew knew that there was a lifeboat deficiency of about 1000 (it would have been almost 2000 if the Titanic was at full capacity). There was a fear of panic but also reluctance to face the 11-storey drop down to the water. The code was ‘women and children first’ but what did that mean? No men until all the women were off? Or let women and children fill up the lifeboat, then men could go on? The instructions were interpreted differently on one side of the ship to the other, so your survival depended on which side you went to. The gates blocking Third Class were opened after 45 minutes but there was a 3rd class reluctance to leave their baggage (their sole possessions) and it was very, very cold. Sir Cosmo Duff-Gordon and his wife survived in Lifeboat 1 which had only 12 occupants out of a capacity of 40 and were treated with obloquy for the rest of their lives. Isodor Strauss and his wife Ida, two of the few Jewish passengers and co-owners of Macy’s department store, chose to stay because, as a man, Isodor was refused a place on the lifeboat. J. Bruce Ismay, the chairman and managing director of White Star Line also survived when he got onto a spare lifeboat. Most of those who died did so because of the cold, rather than drowning. The survivors recalled hearing the clamour of voices, then a roar as the Titanic sank.

Very Short Introductions Podcast Abolitionism Abolitionism? Is that an American thing? This podcast, of very poor acoustic quality, is presented by Richard Newman, who has written on American Abolitionism, and is very US-centric. He sounds almost surprised by the fact that there was a continuous wave of activism through from the 1770s to the late 19th century on both sides of the Atlantic, and that it worked globally and tactically through petitions and courtcases. He notes the diversity among abolitionists, who worked as politicians, ministers, photographers, writers, men and women, black and white. He notes that African Americans were particularly important in the formation of the first Pennyslvania Abolition Society in 1775, and in Britain. He emphasizes the importance of the slave revolt in Saint-Domingue (Haiti) in 1793 which led to the end of French slavery, and attracted the attention of the whole world.

History Hit Episode 1424 Pontius Pilate features Helen Bond. She discusses the portrayal of Pilate in the canonical bibles, the apocryphal books of the Bible, and through secular writing at the time. In 6CE Judea came under direct Roman rule, and the first governors appointed were prefects, as was Pilate. The early Christian writers, who had the problem of squaring the Messiah with a crucified criminal, portrayed the Jewish leaders as responsible. Mark (the earliest of the gospels) speaks of the trade-off with Barabbas – is that plausible? Matthew depicts Pilate washing his hands, and Herod Antipas, another high-status man involved in his trial. John goes off on an esoteric frolic of his own. The Romans were mainly based at Caesaria Maritima, on the coast, and they were not a big presence in Jerusalem, where they knew they were not welcome. The Apocryphal gospels have The Acts of Pilate (or Gospel of Nicodemus) but they are generally viewed as being spurious. Among the non-biblical sources, Philo of Alexandria is contemptuous of Pilate, while Josephus is writing after the Jewish-Roman War and is looking for insensitivities amongst the prefects to explain the war. He notes times when Pilate backed down over Jewish demands, and generally sees him as mediocre. In the Coptic Ethiopic tradition, Pilate is a saint because he converted to Christianity. There are other stories about Pilate’s supposed suicide, and the idea that he was buried in a lake in Lucerne because evil spirits followed him. What we do know is that Pilate was in Judea for about 10 years (a relatively long posting) and that he really existed.

‘The Wrath to Come’ by Sarah Churchwell

2023, 464 p.(including notes)

Sometimes, a good essay is more forceful than a book, I reckon. This is what I kept thinking when reading this book, and although the pace picked up and the book ranged more widely once Part I was out of the way, I just felt as if I had been hit over the head with a mallet as the same argument was repeated again and again. I wish it had been a good long-form essay New Yorker-style rather than a 389 page book.

Churchwell’s argument, which she spells out succinctly in her prologue, is that there is a connection between Gone With the Wind, the instant bestseller of 1936 and the later movie adaptation which became the most successful of its time, and the events of January 6 2021 as the crowd, fortified by defeated-President Trump’s support (“So we’re going to, we’re going to walk down Pennsylvania Avenue. I love Pennsylvania Avenue. And we’re going to the Capitol…”) crashed its way into the US Capitol. It is not so much about the history, but about the book and the film as paired phenomena:

‘Gone with the Wind’ provides a kind of skeleton key, unlocking America’s illusions about itself. When we understand the dark truths of American experience that have been veiled by one of the nation’s favourite fantasies, we can see how the country travelled from the start of the Civil War in 1861 to parading the flag of the side that lost that war through the US Capitol in 2021. That journey was erratic and unpremeditated, but America ended up there all the same. (p. 8)

The book Gone With the Wind appeared in 1936, and sold a million copies in less than six months, won the Pulitzer Prize in 1937, was translated into at least 27 languages and became within a few years the best selling American novel of all time. The film Gone With the Wind was released in 1939 and smashed all records, and adjusted for inflation, is still the highest-grossing film of all time.

The book, which Churchwell has obviously read closely (and which I have not read at all), is more overtly racist than the film. David Selznick’s film consciously eliminated the novel’s many casually racist slurs, as a result of the lobbying from the film’s Black stars. However, the racism continued in the manifestation of the film as a phenomenon: the Black actors were not invited to the film’s premiere, and when Hattie McDaniel became the first Afro-American to win an Oscar for her portrayal of Mammy, she was sitting at a separate table to the rest of the cast, after Selznick had managed to overturn the Cocoanut Grove nightclub ban on black patrons.

Churchwell’s book follows the narrative of the book and film, starting off with ante-bellum Georgia and the rumblings of war. As Churchwell tells us over and over, Mitchell’s portrayal of plantation life (especially in the book) was gratuitously racist and infantalizing. I was relieved to move onto the post-war section of Churchwell’s book, even though I think I remember feeling (it was a very long time ago) that the film had lost impetus once Scarlett returned to Tara. But in Churchwell’s analysis, it is in the return to Tara that the book takes up its major purpose to reify the Lost Cause into American identity. Scarlett O’Hara is not the heroine of Gone With the Wind, instead the real heroine is Melanie, and it is not a love story, but a story of revenge. It is profoundly anti-democratic and consistent with fascism. And this, Churchwell argues, is what fuelled January 6.

I am not at all well-read in Reconstruction and Jim Crow legislation, many hours of listening to Heather Cox Richardson notwithstanding. I saw Gone With the Wind decades ago and have no particular wish to re-watch it, and I have never read the book and am not likely to do so. This book was too detailed for me, although admittedly I’m sure that it was not written for an Australian audience. I was deeply affected, though, by the sheer and graphic violence meted out by the Klan and other vigilante groups: I had not read this before.

Overwhelmingly, this is an angry book, which is ironic given that anger was the predominant driver of January 6 too. I felt that it was too repetitive in its critique, and would have been much punchier as a long-form essay. It felt a very long , and I was pleased to have reached the end of it so that I could move onto something else.

My rating: 7/10

Read because: I heard about it on a podcast, I think.