Fights and Fancies: a Search for Australian Magical Realism Caroline Elizabeth Graham University of Wollongong

University of Wollongong Research Online University of Wollongong Thesis Collection University of Wollongong Thesis Collections 2012 Fights and fancies: a search for Australian magical realism Caroline Elizabeth Graham University of Wollongong Recommended Citation Graham, Caroline Elizabeth, Fights and fancies: a search for Australian magical realism, Master of Creative Arts (Research) thesis, Faculty of Creative Arts, University of Wollongong, 2012. http://ro.uow.edu.au/theses/3560 Research Online is the open access institutional repository for the University of Wollongong. For further information contact the UOW Library: [email protected] Fights and fancies: A search for Australian magical realism A collection of short stories and exegesis Submitted in (partial) fulfilment of the requirements for the award of the degree MASTERS OF CREATIVE ARTS (RESEARCH) from UNIVERSITY OF WOLLONGONG by CAROLINE ELIZABETH GRAHAM, BA, BJour Bond University 2012 2 CERTIFICATION I, Caroline Elizabeth Graham, declare that this thesis, submitted in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the award of the Masters of Creative Arts (Research), in the Faculty of Creative Arts, University of Wollongong, is wholly my own work unless otherwise referenced or acknowledged. The document has not been submitted for qualifications at any other academic institution. Caroline Elizabeth Graham, April 17, 2012 3 4 ABSTRACT Fights and Fancies: The Search for Australian Magical Realism attempts to answer the question: Can magical realism successfully translate into the Australian experience? To respond to this question, I have written a collection of nine short stories, titled The Town Time Forgot. Although its approach to the genre is somewhat unconventional, this 50,000 word creative work demonstrates that magical realism can be a valid and successful way to present the Australian story and landscape. The collection is set in the fictional central Queensland town of Marvale (based on Mackay), where the past has a habit of showing up uninvited and strange happenings have become part of the fabric of reality. The characters are caught between the grungy suburban, rural and industrial landscapes of reality and the magical touches of the town’s collective narrative. To varying degrees, the presence of the mining industry as a colonising influence on the town permeates all the characters’ stories as they try to reconcile the gulf between wealth and wanting. The second element of this submission is a 5000-word exegetical component that contextualises the collection of short stories. In its interrogation of the relevant academic and creative literature, the exegesis also attempts to prove the legitimacy of Australian magical realism as a postcolonial and cross-cultural discourse. The work integrates analysis of several key pieces of Australian magical realist literature (Peter Carey’s Illywhacker, Richard Flanagan’s Gould’s Book of Fish, Tim Winton’s Cloudstreet and Glenda Guest’s Siddon Rock) as well as international examples of the genre, and academic literature. It acknowledges the valid concerns of those who suggest Western writers’ adoption of the genre undermines the core subversive impact of magical realism. However, the thesis concludes that magical realism’s goal of challenging the dominant culture, ideology, narrative and history is better furthered through dialogue with multiple perspectives rather than divisions of ‘legitimate’ and ‘illegitimate’ claim on the genre. 5 6 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS This work couldn’t have been accomplished without the aid of some key people. Firstly, I must thank my supervisor, Merlinda Bobis. Her enthusiasm for and belief in this project have been both an inspiration and a relief, given the self-doubt that comes with a project like this. On many occasions she has questioned elements of the stories, re-focused my perspective and re-invigorated my passion for the project with her own contagious enthusiasm, and the result is a much stronger product than I could have imagined possible on my own. Thank you also to the University of Wollongong for the advice and structures of the excellent MCA-R program, and also the many minds at Bond University who indulged me with their guidance and support. On a personal level, there are many people who deserve gratitude. Special thanks must go to my parents, David and Shelagh Graham, who have been unwavering in their belief in and support of this venture, and to Alessandro (Alec) Piovesan, Tara Goedjen, and Alana Hall, who provided detailed and candid feedback on their impressions of many of the story drafts. Alec also offered insight into Australian- Italian heritage and life in a mining camp and for these reasons, and many others, I am both grateful and lucky. 7 8 TABLE OF CONTENTS Certification ................................................................................................................... 2 Abstract ......................................................................................................................... 4 Acknowledgments ......................................................................................................... 6 Table of Contents .......................................................................................................... 8 The Town Time Forgot: A collection of short stories ................................................. 11 The Town Time Forgot ........................................................................................... 12 The River Rat .......................................................................................................... 24 Dead-end dreaming ................................................................................................. 37 It’s Hard to Find a Lover ......................................................................................... 49 Aquariums are for children and creeps ................................................................... 56 Blackbird’s Song ..................................................................................................... 72 Nick was already broken ......................................................................................... 94 The Laws of Happiness ......................................................................................... 104 The Generosity of Trees ........................................................................................ 121 Fights and Fancies: A search for Australian magical realism (exegesis) .................. 137 Bibliography .............................................................................................................. 156 9 10 THE TOWN TIME FORGOT A collection of short stories 11 12 The Town Time Forgot No one could remember how it happened. Or when. That was the point. I suppose you could say that it started with the packets of oats – because you couldn’t buy oats without someone to stack them before the supermarket doors opened at eight. Or maybe it began with the dark hole in the ground they pulled all that coal out of. It might have started with the Earth’s tedious journey round and round the sun – or before that, with the sun’s journey round and round the Earth. But all that was irrelevant, now. Because without time, words like before and after, between and beyond, order and era, past and future, even the present… all that just disappeared. It was hard to sleep when the midday sun was so fierce, it cracked the roof with its warping glare. Or when your body wanted to work, or worry or pee, or when you were surrounded by cheap, impersonal furniture, so far from the people you loved. Or when the early shift came home mid-afternoon, clattering out of their boots and calling across the camp to see if you wanna beer? When all your clothes were crammed in a blue duffel bag. When the crows pecked on the fucking roof again – every fucking afternoon. It was just hard to sleep. So Whitey lay there and stared at the ceiling, cursing nightshifts. There was a reason nobody called a donga home and that’s because it wasn’t one. It was four walls and a ceiling. Clean enough, nice enough even. They’ve come a long way since they used’a make em out of shipping containers and refrigerated storage, they’d told him the first time he was out west. They were fine. But not your home. Not even yours, actually – just a place to stay during your two weeks on, to be surrendered to someone else on your two weeks off. You could leave a few things in the cupboard if you wanted but there was a good chance they weren’t going to be there when you got back. And anyway, leaving stuff there meant admitting you were going to return – to stare at the ceiling for another two weeks. Next to your donga, if you were prepared to call it yours, was another, exactly like it. With the same doona cover and the same heavy curtains and the same air- conditioning unit, whose filter had to be cleaned of red dust every few days. And next to that was another, and another, and another – a whole make-shift city of half-homes plonked in the middle of the desert. If the camp needed more men (or women, as the diversity training vigorously reminded everyone), the beast simply spat out more 13 dongas, sprawling into another patch of desert. Thing was, you never could say what direction it sprawled – where it began, or where it ended, or where it was going – it all looked the same. Whitey’s donga was standard issue: 6 x 2.7 x 2.4. Exactly big enough. Big enough for the bed and the bag and the coathangers you never

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