My fatal flaw is clearly an inability to walk into bookshops without goddamn buying everything. Try writing a play of interest about that, Bill Shakespeare. Actually, I did exercise some restraint. I managed to leave a couple of choice tomes licking their paws, crying that no one will ever love them. But this supposed wallet-back-in-pocket move was of no real comfort, because I laid some scrilla down on a pair of black knee-length riding boots not an hour later. Enthusiastic praying at the altar of consumer patron saint Carrie Bradshaw? Nooo, not me.
Fascinated (or perhaps bored) to see Tim Winton top the ol’ ‘Favourite Australian novel’ (FAN) poll in ABR with Cloudstreet. I read that book when I was too young to appreciate it, and I have not yet persuaded to revisit – two companions on my holidays in Sri Lanka turned the pages so slowly and reluctantly I could’ve sworn the book had dead flies between the pages. But Winton’s Breath was in the top ten, too, at number 4. Now that is a Winton book I can get behind. Until I read Breath, I don’t think I had a FAN. And I’m still not quite sure of the criteria I applied to reach that conclusion. What does make a ‘favourite Australian novel’? Favourite novel you can thrust in a foreigner’s face and say, ‘This is Australia?’ Highly dubious concept, too reductionist. Enthralling portrayal of la vie Australienne, breath of the wattle and all that? Snoretown. Favourite novel written by an Australian? It probably is just that, at that. Breath gave my viscera a bit of a ride, and it’s rather amazing in many ways.
Anyway, I’m surprised as anyone that I have a FAN. Do you have one? Do you think it’s a useful concept?
