Meanwhile, beyond the land of the beigists

The Stinging Fly is hosting a showcase for Ireland's various literary magazines during Listowel Writers Week, which kicks off tonight.

We'll have copies of the various journals for sale, as well as providing subscription information and submission guidelines.

Please come and visit the table in the Listowel Arms Hotel on Thursday, Friday or Saturday (May 31 - June 2).

Other magazines featured include Crannóg, Cyphers, The Dublin Review, Poetry Ireland Review, The Shop, Southword, Succour and The Yellow Nib.


Bluepepper addendum

Pubs and books, Sydney readers!! Remember when that was more than an idea to be sneered at by the seemingly relentless tide of makeover people, those inextricably smug, painfully inarticulate and dangerously thin-skinned creatures who poison our favourite drinking holes and then raise our rent as a thank you?

PS Yes, I am speaking from bountiful experience here. Shutup or I'll write a poem about it.

Black Mark

Quarterly Essay 26: His Master’s Voice By David Marr PB $14.95

John Howard has the loudest voice in Australia. He has cowed his critics, muffled the press, intimidated the ABC, gagged scientists, silenced NGOs, censored the arts, prosecuted leakers, criminalised protest and curtailed parliamentary scrutiny. Though touted as a contest of values, this has been a party-political assault on Australia’s liberal culture. In the name of “balance” the Liberal Party has muscled its way into the intellectual life of the country.And this has happened because we let it happen. Once again, Howard has shown his superb grasp of Australia as it really is. In His Master’s Voice, David Marr investigates both a decade of suppression and the strange willingness of Australians to watch, with such little angst, their liberties drift away.

“More than any law, any failure of the Opposition or individual act of bastardry over the last decade, what’s done most to gag democracy in this country is the sense that debating John Howard gets us nowhere.”DAVID MARR, HIS MASTER’S VOICE

*David Marr will be touring Australia - see below for Quarterly Essay 26 events*

Memories Like Angels

After four long years, Brentley Frazer has finally released his much anticipated follow up to "Dark Samadhi", a book I savoured both publicly and privately. I may as well 'fess up now that I have written the blurb for this one, at least the one that appears at the publisher's web site, but some of you will already be well aware of my regard for this Brisbane poet recently relocated to Melbourne. We share a common sensibility, although our styles and artistic milieu are markedly different, and his energy and commitment to new writing is far more effective than mine. Would that there were more Brentley Frazer's in our small but vibrant poetry scene and a few less of those Sydney beatnik hacks last seen penning dross for the harbour city's most august and questionable rag. This one has the long and typically Frazerian title of "Memories like angels at a ball tripping over their gowns" and is available first and foremost at the publisher's website (just click on the post heading) as well as all good bookshops worth the name.

Call for submissions

I am in the process of setting up a website, but as my web designer is about to fly back to Malta for a whirlwind of avuncular advice and grappa, I will keep the bluepepper flying for the foreseeable. If you feel you have anything worthwhile to add to this kitchen experiment with fridge magnet forever at your back, then please send me your best and honest, and please do so secure in the knowledge the whole lot will be linked to the new website (if and when it happens) and will continue pretty much as is in that capacity. As far as I can fathom from the white fog sprouted at me by IT guys (I am in my forties and do drink and so on a great deal) this will mean many more hits for anyone posted at bluepepper. The website I envisage as a more permanent display of contemporary poetry's newest and brightest, but we have all heard that before, so I will attempt (very much against my Scorpio nature) to tread lightly from here on in. So please feel free, which is, I am afraid, what your poetry will continue to be in this particular corner of cyberspace until the aprons are finally off and the fridge magnets politely fed to the belching one-eyed monster canvassing your electorate any day now.

New Poetry by Les Wicks

BURNT RUBBER AT THE DEAD ZONE

Elena has a new art, her brushes

this black Kawasaki Big Ninja, ZZR-1100, plus a radiation detector.

Girl of speed and silence,

technology beyond fingers, a stretched drum-skin of abyss

and straw where the Monkey Law of Curiosity is written in poison.

She rides through Chernobyl taking photos – the Luminous Law of Poke.

Snow promises “reconciliation”.

A few declining shards of occupation, even tour guides

but visitors cannot stay -

canned by quiet, the innate dissonance

of human clutter without the tribe…

well-fed eyes skitter, shoulder muscles clench beside placards

for the 1986 Mayday Parade

Party of Lenin leads us to the Triumph of Communism.

Magazines unread, Fish and Hunt.

Kindergarten trips are postponed

for 30 generations.

"Chernobyl" means wormwood and

is an iridescent palette. This woman passes

rusting nests of tanks, Sikorski bones. My own

daughter was born that week 1986, this alp of news and a slow, implacable

gyre of contractions as we watched Nightmare on Elm St, then Cheers.

A hoar of antiquity in the toss of their manes
Prejevalsky Horses shave grasslands, this new age of life -

roses go the way

of any managed thing.

Peace is imposed on this tiny patch as

confident wolves ignore the scent of dead farmyards.

Wild boar multiply, move in to simple wooden huts that

drink radiation but refuse to desert

their contract of shelter.

The Ferris ("Devil's") Wheel will not turn.

Washing, 20 years untouched, still on the line.

Vovik + Tanya = love (maybe still/

600 miles away and them nervously with new children

waiting for the taint).

Elena reassures us

that bitumen protects,

doses at their lowest in the centre of roads.

No one is surprised by this, enduring haven of we beasts that ate.

Is this the last human ecology?

Roars of our engines, the septic gasp.

Opal eyes peering from tarmacadam coats.

Les Wicks 2007

Folly

For reaons completely unfathomable to me, Google has decided to butcher their blogging program, and until I can find my way around the ten tonne boulder they have rolled across my path, visitors are simply going to have to live with the format as it stands. Or you could email Google and let them know what you think of the genius who thought he'd earn his Christmas bonus early by touting this folly.

In the meantime, however, you may be interested to know that The Great Big Show is about to hit the bookstores. I would post a link here, but I was hungover the day they handed out IT degrees.

Oh no, there it is. Now for the cover art......

Justin Lowe makes a correction (or two)

I have withdrawn The Great Big Show from public circulation while I finalise its publication and release. I thank those people who showed an interest and hope the rest of you do likewise when it hits your bookstores.

Black Inc. makes a correction

Please note this correction to Friday’s March & April events information.
Bookings for these events at Gleebooks can only be made by calling 02 9660 2333 or by visiting www.gleebooks.com.au/events

Another Country by Nicolas Rothwell

Nicolas Rothwell in conversation with Murray Waldren, literary editor of The Australian newspaper.

For several years now, Nicolas Rothwell has traveled the length and breadth of Northern and Central Australia. Another Country collects sketches and portraits written over this time and combines them into a book that reveals another Australia. Another Country is a portrait of people and places. It is also a literary achievement – a mesmerizing, many-faceted journey into the landscape, and beyond.

Nicolas Rothwell is the author of the award-winning Wings of the Kite-Hawk and the novel Heaven and Earth. He is the northern correspondent for The Australian. In 2006, he won the Walkley Award for coverage of Indigenous Affairs.

Venue: Gleebooks, 49 Glebe Point Rd, Glebe NSW
Date: Tuesday 6 March 2007
Time: 6.30 for 7 pm
Bookings: Tickets $10/$7 conc. (Gleeclub welcome) through Gleebooks
02 9660 2333 or email morgan@gleebooks.com.au


Quarterly Essay 25 – Bipolar Nation: How to Win the 2007 Election by Peter Hartcher
Peter Hartcher in conversation with Maxine McKew

Australians are more economically secure, yet existentially as anxious as ever. On the one hand we see a more prosperous, confident and "aspirational" society, and on the other the continuation of a well-cultivated sense of fear, xenophobia and insecurity.
This fascinating Quarterly Essay analyses today’s ‘bipolar nation’. It revisits Donald Horne’s Lucky Country, looks at the legacy of Paul Keating, and discusses how John Howard will set out to craft an election-winning strategy. It explains how the Lucky Country and the Frightened Country will be the two grand themes of the election, and in doing so lays out the political agenda for 2007’s election year.

Venue: Gleebooks, 49 Glebe Point Rd, Glebe NSW
Date: Monday 2 April 2007
Time: 6.30 for 7 pm
Bookings: Tickets $10/$7 conc. (Gleeclub welcome) through Gleebooks 02 9660 2333 or email morgan@gleebooks.com.au

For further information on Black Inc. books, please visit www.blackincbooks.com

The Great Big Show

For the past year I have been poring over books and maps and unpublished diaries and digging deep into my troubled soul in an attempt to piece together some sort of narrative thread set against the tragic events in East Africa between 1914 and 1918. I am pleased to announce my efforts are at an end and that those who wish can assay the results for a nominal fee by clicking on The Great Big Show post heading. The work has still not been finalised and obviously does not have an ISBN, but you are more than welcome to buy a draft paperback if you are so inclined. Downloads of the complete story are going for US29c, paperbacks for slightly more, although that is withouth Susie Bower's fantastic cover art. All the same it may fetch a bit on ebay one of these days when paper is truly short. Future of the planet aside, it really is about me now and I would welcome feedback from poets and historians about anything but me (but mostly the book at the post heading).

Writing and Society

The Writing and Society Research Group is pleased to present the first in its 2007 seminar series -

Samar Habib On Female Homosexuality in the Middle East

Friday 9 March2.00-4.00pm

Bankstown campus Building 1, room 1.2.36

Samar Habib, author of the forthcoming book Female Homosexualityin the Middle East: Histories and Representations, discusses the writing and research for, as well as the cultural and political import of, this new work.

Subsequent seminars in the series include:

23 March Ivor Indyk, The awkwardness of Patrick White

20 April Ross Gibson, The idea of repletion in crime-scene photography

4 May Glen McGillivray, The Osama Show: theatrical metaphor resurgent

18 May Paul Sheehan, Thomas Bernhard's art of excess and renunciation.

All on Fridays, 2.00-4.00pm Bankstown, Building 1, room 1.2.36

THREE HOURS

I have been used to adoration

only at night.

The quiet, the soft

places of thought and response,

analysis and even temper.

An extended road where focus is rewarded,

challenge is invited and fulfilled.

But now I have seen you twice.

Two early mornings,

leaving me drained,

a broken clock without function.

I have turned

around

to face the day.

Three hours earlier

and the world is new,

smelling the new smells,

greeting the starkness of green and blue

where before were grey and silver.

Now I can see you

and not be broken.

My hours are open and

I will have patience

for your confusionand your stealth,

the strength of your desire for love

that strangles your ability

to accept it.

I will repeat my offer

with the sun for my sponsor,

disarming you

with sunburned smiles

and strong brown arms

like your own,

easing the transition

from a non-committal twilight

to a fierce noon.

- Jason Monios 2007

Jason Monios lives in Edinburgh. His publications include Acumen, Poetry Scotland, New Writing Scotland, nthposition, Umbrella and The Guardian.

New Poetry by Joel Deane

BOOK OF NUMBERS

Should I find something more
than a number—

a name that might have been;
a word that might remain

once the name has left a scar—
I will whisper it

to a world that will not listen.
A world worn out by words.

I will repeat it for this brevity
the damned call eternity.

I will give it life.

- Joel Deane 2007

MIDTOWN

If you encounter a man
wearing no shoes

selling mini-umbrellas

- six dollars a piece
- ten dollars a pair

Something is falling.

- Joel Deane 2007

Joel is a Melbourne-based poet and novelist whose poetry has been published in magazines such as Antipodes, Australian Book Review, Overland, Quadrant, Meanjin, Cordite and Famous Reporter. His last book was Subterranean Radio Songs (Interactive Press, 2005).

New Poetry by Jane Williams

Churches of the developed world

(a partly found poem)

to light a candle

drop any coin into the slot

(more coins may be required

for longer prayers)

on medical advice

communion is to be made by

receiving the bread only

(salivation is to be kept

to a minimum)

not in use

the alms box owing to recent

forced removal of padlocks

(bag checks now operate

in this church)

under electronic surveillance

you

(and you and you and you ...)

-Jane Williams 2007

Begging the question

who worries over this woman

fingering you are my sunshine

on the piano accordian

squat as an invalid's breakfast tray

above her outsized lap

tack suited against the swank

of the common wealth bank

when she reaches the end

she knows to start over

hour after hour

this music by numbers

this empty chocolate box
open for business

its heart shaped lid

inviting payment for services

and begging the question

- Jane Williams 2007

New Poetry by Wayne H.W. Wolfson

Leviathan

A storm, bad ideas and urges. Lightening, blinding silver-purple flashes.
On the line next to the forgotten laundry, a neighbor’s chimes buffeted by the wind. A novice playing a frantic song too fast.
I hate this too, but would be lost without its familiarity. Buildings sway, the sky darkens further, I join in singing the refrain.
The storm.
Flashes of lightening, the final beating of a dying leviathan’s heart, lights up the sky. Blinding silver, burnt ozone offering. I sweat copper, it makes you happy.
Despite how jumpy the thunder makes you, I can not stay awake.
In my sleep I felt a bite. I know it is just chemical. We were holding hands as if, like Sunday.
The city is all decay and late night secrets. That is mine.
Desire, cash, gloom and retreat. A kingdom whose demise is announced in-between thunder claps.

- Wayne H.W. Wolfson 2007

Call for Submissions

I haven't forgotten my threat to start posting excerpts from my verse novel, so poets and poetry lovers consider yourselves on notice. Just click on the "email me" tag in the top right hand corner and submit anything up to five poems, a 1000 word comment or review in the body of the email. NO ATTACHMENTS PLEASE. I have a very good turnover time, and that applies to most things I do. Probably why I haven't got a girlfriend...Anyway, be that as it may I see no reason for not submitting something. The worse you will get is silence, as I won't comment on subs unless I can see some way of working with the author to make them more suitable for posting under the Bluepepper. There are no payments and thus no guidelines.

Seasons Greetings

In keeping with the Christmas spirit, Shane Warne, history's greatest leg-spinner, has given the Test batsmen of the world an early present by announcing his retirement from the game at the end of the Sydney Test Match. To those of you from non-cricketing nations (my condolences), Warney is a kind of antipodean Babe Ruth whose ability to outfox batsmen has enthralled millions of us for the past 14 years. His departure, though premature in my opinion, will at least bring back some equilibrium to a game utterly dominated by the Australians for more than a decade. God bless you, Warney, and thank you, but may no team gain such ascendancy over the Noble Game again.

The Stinging Fly

Some of you may be wondering what I've been doing since my last posting. Well, amongst other things I have been savouring the delights of Irish literary magazine The Stinging Fly. Although it won't interest those who only read things they are in, this admittedly Celto-centric little mag is my find of the year. After a previous issue devoted solely to the fine art of the short story, the current issue returns to the bubbly mix of poetry and prose from many of the leading lights of Irish letters. Special mention needs to be made here of Kevin Barry's story Last Days of the Buffalo, one of the finest pieces of short writing I have read in years. The editors appear to be a lively crew obviously in love with the job who are always hunting around for international contributors (yes, that means you dear reader). Click on the post heading to see how you can get hold of a copy. Subscriptions are ludicrously cheap. I promise you won't be disappointed.

Giramondo Press

Late last year Giramondo published three collections of essays by distinguished Australian authors - Gerald Murnane's Invisible Yet Enduring Lilacs, Beverley Farmer's The Bone House and Louis Nowra's Chihuahuas, Women and Me. Together with John Hughes' award-winning The Idea of Home: Autobiographical Essays, published the previous year, these four collections form an impressive series.


For this Christmas, they are offering all four titles at a price of $75, including postage. That's a big slice. Or, if that's too big a bite at once, any two titles for $40, or three titles for $60, including postage. That's Nana's sponge plus the sherry!

Either email your order through the links on the post heading (ie click the big words north), or follow whatever nineteenth century prompts they chose to still display.

For information about other Giramondo titles, please click the big words, also. Or not.

We believe you until we doubt you.

New Poetry by Jane Williams

Political poem

this is not a political poem I don't write political poetry
about banda aceh and inappropriate tsunami
aid like boxes of breast implants wigs fur coats
or the fight for east timorese independence the subsequent
donation of buses too wide for the narrow roads of dili
too expensive to run for longer than a joy ride left to rot
this is not a political poem I don't write political poetry
about one size fits all campaign speeches
promises self fulfilling as a five o'clock shadow
suits climbing the ladder corporate or social it doesn't matter
to people wearing next to nothing trying to divine water from rock
this is not a political poem I don't write political poetry
about the price of petrol or a family holiday to alpha centauri
ski slope cheek bones bee sting lips
the colour of poverty the weight of guilt by omission
my enemy's enemy is my friend and what's mine is yours
but don't worry
this is not a political poem I don't write political poetry

- Jane Williams 2006

Jane Williams' most recent collection of poems is 'The Last Tourist' (Five
Islands Press 2006). She lives in Hobart,Tasmania.