Philip Neilsen

Germany, offers much to admire. Apart from the many historical mon- uments, the bookshops alone - the range of titles they carry, the service they provide if what one wants is out of stock - are enough to drive one crazy. As a holiday-maker, however, as a visitor whose stay cannot be long, one is apt, in the excitement of exploration and discovery, or in rushing to the theatre or to this or that concert, to imagine cultural opportunities necessarily mean more here than at home. The fact, that one is experiencing the culture through the medium of a language acquired by study, inclines one to be impressed, easily pleased and optimistic. One tends, maybe, to construct and preserve in one's mind an image of city and society as charming and misleading as the Budden- brook facade. But what, one might ask, do the history and traditions of Luebeck mean to her stevedores, for example? How many teenagers in the city know who Thomas Mann was, or could truthfully say they read even one of his stories? And what of poetry, so little regarded in Australia, the concern, outside classroom and lecture theatre, seemingly of poets and pretenders only? Does it really engage more of the public's time and intelligence in North Germany than in North Queensland? The brevity of my stop-over in Luebeck does not permit me to answer such questions with authority. I can only report that on December 12, 1985, in the Zentrum on the corner of the Mengstrasse and An der Untertrave, a fascinating, totally committed performance of "Lyrisches Koerpertheater" was loudly applauded by an enthusiastic audience of ten. PHILIP NEILSEN WAITING FOR THE BARBARIANS AN INTERVIEW WITH PETER CAREY PN: You once said: "It took me three novels to begin to know how to tell a story". PC: Well, I think that when I started writing, all of the books that I admired were like, for example, Beckett's novels. Admiration of Beckett's novels doesn't necessarily lead a young writer into thinking about a well-constructed story. They're just a conti- nuum of humorous despair or something. And similarly, I suppose, you can look at Kafka, which is somebody I like a lot. Never realising back then, that he was a comic genius. I didn't know anything then about ordinary story-telling - stories with beginnings and endings and everything. 66 PN: So, are you talking about getting the reader's interest, keeping them going, curiosity? PC: Yes, things like not boring people. There was a time when one would have thought of just telling a story as being almost reactionary. PN: What about the stories that Harry and his father tell in Bliss? PC: The first part of it I suppose is that Harry tells stories in this brainless way: he is like a transmitter, and he never even thinks about what they mean. There is a story he tells at Palm Avenue where everybody criticises him and he gets upset. And he is criticised really for not having any awareness of what it is he is talking about, so that's the first part. And I suppose what one feels at the end is that Harry's storytelling is done with some more knowledge of what the stories that he has been carrying mean. Secondly, he has found a social niche or role in that community. That is, an important part in that culture. Which is probably just a writer's wish-fulfilment, living in a community full of people who think making concrete tanks is more important than anything. Not that different to this wider society! PN: You also said, the last time I interviewed you - in 1980— that one of your great undiscovered talents was as a humourist, and that we'd see that in your new work, which turned out to be Bliss. But this satirical talent you discovered is even more evident in the new novel, Illywhacker. PC: Yes, I see that comment sometimes, because I look at that interview from time to time - and I think that when I first wrote, people would meet me, having read The Fat Man in History, and I didn't seem to be the kind of person that wrote those stories. And I suppose I found in Illywhacker probably a truer picture of my personality. I can still go on being sort of - bleak - but have a laugh as well. So, whenever people tell me that they have laughed a lot, when they've read the book, I feel really happy. PN: The theme in Illywhacker of American colonialism - which was certainly in Bliss as well - you've developed it further. Obviously people have got to pick that up. Do you want them to see that as a major theme? The pet shop theme? PC Whether it's American or English, that's one of the things it's about and it's where I started, and so you would have to say that was a very strong force. But, as the book develops you start to bring in other strands. I worry also sometimes, that the book will be read too much for its allegorical or even didactic element so, yes, it's all there and it is very important to me, obviously. 67 PN: Does Herbert Badgery, the central character of Illywhacker, believe his lies? PC Sometimes. If you look at the structure of the book, in a sense it starts in 1919 when Herbert picks up this snake to show off, and Phoebe says "What is it"? and he says "It's a pet". Abso- lute bulishit, but he wants the admiration of a woman so he will risk death to do it. PN: And he has to persist with that. PC: Yes, so the whole book builds on that until the very end. I'd like to think I'd planned that very clear line of development, because I wanted to end up with a pet shop, and I suppose it sounds more neatly planned to start with a pet. PN: I'd like to give you a chance to defend yourself - because I think you have come under unfair criticism from some critics. They don't seem to want to grant you the status of novelist yet. They want you back being a short story writer. The allegation is that these novels are short stories stitched together or that "within this novel is a great short story". PC: Well, that shits me, but also now, sensing not so much my own arrogance or my own worth, but just smelling out different opinions among people whom I want to listen to . (laughter) I think Illywhacker works and I think it is a thing of worth and I think a lot of people whose business is reading, don't know how to read. There are so many people, even people who enjoyed the book, who can't actually sense its architecture and yet they criticise. I don't mind that they can't sense it, but when they can't sense it and then criticise me because they can't see it - well, Ijust think they mightn't look silly this week but they will look silly sooner or later. PN: But I assume you read Peter Pierce's review in the National Times - he seemed to be more on the right track. PN: Peter Pierce was an interesting example, on the positive side, of what happens with reviewing in this country. There are aspects of the book that he thought, from his perspective were failures and that's fair enough, but he celebrated the book and he went into it with a generous spirit. And I think that separates him from some others. The other thing, is just bloody mean- minded. And it doesn't celebrate anything. So, one doesn't mind criticism of course, just the mean-mindedness, it's really pathetic. PN: But of course, these critics belong to a pretty conservative, formalist school. Ideologically they're predisposed to think a 68 novel that deals with political or economic issues is a bit dodgy - just a tract. For instance Adrian Mitchell's review showed he was uneasy with the historical sweep of Illywhacker, and that the book was suspect in terms of "organic unity", as he would see it. Perhaps the big test from a conservative critical perspective would be Leonie Kramer's opinion. PC: She was one of the judges in the Miles Franklin the year Bliss won. She came up and said "Congratulations, I'm Leonie Kra- mer and I think it is a great book." PN: Well, there's no equivocation there. While we're on the subject of criticism, I'd like to raise the issue of the women in your novels - for example, Bettina Joy in Bliss. It has been said that you're not aware of how horrible you make her in some ways. That she is physically repulsive. But you're not aware of that. They can see that you are trying hard to be fair, that there are basically feminist tendencies in the book, but . PC: It's a book about the women; I mean, Harry is a fool . - and you notice this when you're looking at the film, also. Harry basically reacts to things that happen. It becomes more and more apparent that he is an extraordinarily passive character in many respects and it is the women that have the drive and the ideas. I like Bettina, she's a much more interesting character than Harry is and she has got more passion, more drive.

Load more