An Occasional Free Spirit: Randolph Stow’s Satiric Streak Gabrielle Carey n aspect of Randolph Stow’s work that has attracted little A attention is his gift for comedy and satire. Throughout his life Stow used satire as a way making fun of pretension, as a defence against what he perceived as insidious influences and individuals, and also as a playful celebration of being Australian. The earliest evidence of Stow’s instinct for satire was a story published in the Guildford Grammar High School student magazine, Swan, in 1952, Stow’s final year at the school. In it, Stow parodies the school’s headmaster. The Head, as he was known, was allegedly unpopular among both students and staff, particularly for his habit of surveillance, which took the form of skulking about corridors eavesdropping or suddenly surprising students from darkened corners. Stow’s story for Swan, written under the pseudonym of ‘Albion’, and titled ‘He Snoops to Conquer’, starts innocently enough: ‘Once upon a time there was a man called Mr. Battersby’, but Mr. Battersby soon becomes a tyrant in what Stow describes as ‘the little buffer state of Guilgascolia’, a playful, portmanteau-style word that barely disguises Guildford Grammar. The story continues: 15 Westerly 57:1 One of Mr Battersby’s first actions on his coming into power was to institute a one-man secret police. To do this he bought himself a pair of crepe-soled shoes, and delighted to stroll around the market place after dark, listening to the conversation of the peasants and arresting the discontented ones. Because of his habit the simple Guilgrascolians called him ‘Il Plop Plop’, which means in English ‘The Snooper’. When this edition of the school magazine was released, the model for the protagonist in the story — the then headmaster of Guildford Grammar, Mr Thwaites — was immediately identified, as was the satire’s author. A letter of apology was demanded and Stow obliged. In that same year, Stow published two poems in the Swan, also under the name of Albion, and it is clear that, when not preoccupied with despotic headmasters, this precocious student was already taking himself seriously as a poet. A few years later, while still a university undergraduate, Randolph Stow had enough confidence in his own work to write to A.D. Hope, enclosing several of his poems and requesting advice and commentary. Hope took some months to reply — four to be exact — but when he did it was a gracious response: 29th Oct, 1956 Dear Mr Stow, By now I suppose you have given me up and have laid a curse upon me for an unmannerly devil. The fact is that since your letter and manuscript came in June I have been almost without staff and it has been an unusually busy year… Even now I am afraid that I haven’t time to give anything like the adequate or proper treatment of your poems which I think very highly of and like very much. As you can probably guess, a good many people I don’t know send me their poetry and ask me to criticise and comment. In nine cases out of ten this is easy. I take 16 Gabrielle Carey one poem and go through it in some details, add a few general comments and that is that. But I think all the poems you sent me deserve separate consideration. They are all genuine and alive and like all living things each has its separate individuality. You can’t just lump them together. If you hadn’t told me your age I should have thought you were probably young but not nearly as young as you say. Because the poems have a grasp, a command, an economy of effort, which, savé Rimbaud, suggests a man who has been at his craft for a good while. That, I think, is significant. Early instinctive command and natural verbal imagination are the marks — or are often the marks — of a real poet of power and possibility. And you have them with an exuberance and force that is quite unusual. Please don’t take that as a lofty pat on the head, because it is a matter of envy to me. I have always lacked these qualities. Hope then goes on to say that he doesn’t want to offer much in the way of criticism of Stow’s work, but nevertheless comments briefly on a few specific poems. He then suggests where Stow might send his work, the first recommendation beingMeanjin. Then Hope signs off: I hope you will write again if my long silence is forgiven. I should like to hear from you. Yours sincerely, A.D. Hope (Papers of Randolph Stow 1935–2010). This seems like a promising start to a genuine friendship, even a possible mentorship between older and younger poet. It is something of a mystery then, when in 1964, in response to a comment by A.D. Hope in Meanjin that the journal should publish more satire, Stow submitted a parody of the famous and influential poet, in the form of Augustan prose.1 Stow’s letter to the then editor, Clem Christesen, dated 18 July, 1964 (typed on University of Western Australia letterhead) reads: 17 Westerly 57:1 Dear Mr Christesen, I’m enclosing a parody-satire on the literary pretensions of A.D. Hope — the sort of thing he considers is done too little nowadays. Would you mind letting me know fairly soon whether MEANJIN can use it, as I won’t be around much longer. Yours sincerely, RS. (Papers) Stow‘s audacity is impressive. Barely twenty-nine, he was taking a shot at possibly the most powerful literary authority in the country. One wonders if any young up-and-coming novelist or poet would dare to do that now. Christesen sent a copy of the parody to Hope, asking his permission to publish and whether he wished to have a right of reply. Hope responded: Serves me right, doesn’t it, for demanding more satire? But why is Master Stow so prickly about me? I’ve never sold him an eggbeater or pissed on his forget-me-nots. I don’t think I want to reply in kind but you can, if you print the poem with his reason for writing it add: ‘A.D. Hope comments: Mr Stow seems an apt pupil and shows promise.’ That should meet the case, I think. (Papers) Yet despite Hope’s claim of having never offended Stow, the omission of the younger poet from his 1963 text, Australian Literature 1940–1962, had been a glaring one. As Max Harris commented in his 1966 essay ‘Conflicts in Australian Intellectual Life’: ‘It is bewildering that the dominant academic voice should find substantial qualities in the work of Grace Perry and Roland Robinson, and yet find the poetry of Randolph Stow so utterly worthless as not to be worth mentioning even among the nonentities dutifully recorded in his Australian Literature 1940–1964 ’ (Literary Australia). 18 Gabrielle Carey The begging question is, of course, why had the young poet that Hope had once encouraged and even envied, now disappeared so completely from the older poet’s survey of the literary landscape? For whatever reason, Christesen decided against publishing the parody and on September 7, 1964, a letter was sent from Meanjin. Dear Mr Stow, I am writing on behalf of Mr. Christesen, who is away from the office at present. We also apologise for the delay in letting you have a decision on the script you kindly sent to us. Mr Christesen felt the parody was not suitable for publication in Meanjin Quarterly, so I am returning it herewith. With compliments. Yours faithfully, [blank] Secretary. (Papers) Less than two weeks later, on September 19, 1964, a lengthy parody by Stow appeared in Nation with the unlikely title of Babbitt Eats Babbitt.2 In it Stow attacks what he describes as an epidemic of ‘Babbit-baiting Babbits’ or ‘BBBs’. ‘BBB’ is the label he has settled on for ‘the sallow horde which is threatening to invade the very life- stream of our infant culture’ and ‘has led to the Messianic cult of A.D. Hope and Barry Humphries.’ (11) Stow describes at length the characteristics and habitat of BBBs. Under the sub-heading ‘Recognition’, he explains his research methods: By blindfolding my research assistants and placing them strategically in foyers…in front of wireless and television sets…I am happy to report that I have proved beyond doubt my earlier hypothetical classification of BBBs. In every case, the voice indicated by the blindfolded assistant as showing BBB symptoms has belonged to one of the following …(11) Stow then lists nine culprits, including Leonie Kramer and anyone ‘who has remarked three times or more that there is only one Hope 19 Westerly 57:1 for Australian poetry.’ By 1964 Stow was convinced that Australian literary and critical culture had become adversely dominated by A.D. Hope and Leonie Kramer and he clearly felt that satire was his only defence in the face of this double-headed monster. Stow’s gift for satire, however, wasn’t used exclusively as a weapon. Midnite (1967) beautifully demonstrates Stow’s natural talent for comedy, satirising all things Australian with a tender playfulness. All the precious myths are sent up, bushrangers, brave explorers (especially Lord Forrest) and even our most respected literary figure — whom Stow also deeply admired — Patrick White. The beauty of Midnite is that the slightly bitter tone of Stow’s former style of parody has been completely replaced by buoyant humour and cutting wit.