‘The Shark Caller’ and ‘The Dog with Seven Names’ and ‘Crafting Animal Characters in Fiction for Young Readers’ Dianne Wolfer Student number 10173725 Dip.Ed. (Melbourne State College, 1982) MA (Creative Writing) (University of Western Australia, 2005) This thesis is presented for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy of The University of Western Australia School of Humanities (English and Cultural Studies) 2017 Abstract The fiction component of this thesis consists of two novels, The Dog with Seven Names and The Shark Caller. These works are linked by their usage of animal characters and their exploration of social themes. The Dog with Seven Names is a work of historical fiction for a young readership of 9-12 years; it uses an animal viewpoint to explore the impact of war upon north-western Australia 1939-1943. The Shark Caller is a contemporary cross-cultural quest-fantasy for a young readership of 10-14 years; it explores environmental issues set in the New Ireland Province of Papua New Guinea. Shark involves human protagonists who become embroiled in a fantasy scenario involving confrontation with undersea creatures; Dog uses an animal to narrate a sequence of events in close parallel with researched history of the period. In this way each novella could be said to work variations upon a clutch of thematic and technical concerns with animal portrayals (of differing kinds) presenting a major creative challenge in each case. The accompanying exegesis, “Crafting Animal Characters in Fiction for Young Readers”, explores my own authorial practice in the context of a discussion based on a wider survey of exemplar Australian children’s titles featuring animal characters. 1 Candidate’s Declaration This thesis contains only sole-authored work, some of which has been published and/or prepared for publication under sole authorship. The bibliographical details of the published work are: Dianne Wolfer, The Shark Caller (Sydney: Random House, 2016) ISBN 978 0 14378 055 7 2 Contents Fiction: ‘The Shark Caller’ …………………………………………………………………………………….. 4 Tok Pisin Glossary ………………………………………………………………………………….... 146 ‘The Dog with Seven Names’ …………………………………………………………………... 150 Exegesis: ‘Crafting Animal Characters in Fiction for Young Readers’ ………………………. 261 Bibliography …………………………………………………………………………………………………….. 358 Appendices: Appendix 1: ‘A Selection of Australian Animal Characters, 1841-2015’ …… 371 Appendix 2: ‘Notes to Accompany ‘The Dog With Seven Names’ ………….… 404 3 The Shark Caller 4 Dedication For Karen and Owen, with thanks for introducing me to PNG and the wonderful world of diving, and for Sophie, who never gave up on this story, even when I wanted to. Note This story is set on fictitious Finsch Island in the New Ireland Province of Papua New Guinea where, as is the case in several Pacific communities, shark calling has been a traditional practice for centuries. Although inspired by this tradition and other Pacific Island customs, my story and the characters within are entirely fictional. 5 Before I was only six when I first heard the voices. Monsoonal clouds gathered as we paddled across the lagoon. ‘Shark road,’ Uncle Aaron said, running his fingers through the water. ‘Ancestors travel along this pathway.’ My uncle lifted a strange coconut shell rattle. ‘What are you doing?’ I asked. ‘Calling the ancestors.’ ‘The ancestors?’ ‘Sharks!’ my brother whispered. ‘How do you know?’ Ray shrugged and looked away. Perhaps he’d heard something in the men’s house. Dark currents swirled under my uncle’s wooden canoe. Then a fin sliced the surface. I flinched and the boat tilted. ‘Nogat wari,’ Uncle Aaron said. ‘I won’t let the ancestors hurt you.’ He balanced on the prow chanting strange words. As Uncle Aaron dragged his rattle through the ocean, the shark swam closer. Coconut disks distorted the watery mirror of the dawn sky. Then I heard voices. Words seeped through my mind like incoming waves. I turned to my uncle. ‘Tumbuna,’ he muttered. I stared into the shark’s unblinking eye. The voices grew louder. It felt like they were calling me. I tried to understand, but the mako’s black eyes frightened me. I looked away. The voices stopped. 6 1 Returning We need in love to practice only this: letting each other go. For holding on comes easily; we do not need to learn it. Rainer Maria Rilke I love that moment when an aeroplane’s wheels leave the runway. The cabin angles upwards and the city below shrinks to the size of a toy town. Tonight our take-off is smooth. We circle Guildford and our plane turns east. My mother squeezes my hand and I think about the urn in my suitcase. It holds my brother’s ashes. We’re taking him back to Papua New Guinea. Mum’s family owns a dive resort on an island near Kavieng. It’s where my brother and I were born fourteen years ago. I haven’t been back to PNG for three years, not since my parents split up. As the pilot guides our Airbus into the clouds, I stare out the window, watching the flashing wing lights. They remind me of the night the police came. It’s a moment that’s never far from my mind: ‘I’m Sergeant Zoe Crisp and this is Constable Glover. We’re looking For Mrs Williams.’ ‘Mum’s in her studio printing photographs . .’ ‘We need to speak with her.’ An image oF my brother Filled my mind. His still body lying on the beach. ‘Mum,’ I yelled, running to the studio to Find her. ‘The police are here. There’s been an accident.’ Mum’s dark eyes stared into mine. She hurried inside. I Followed, stumbling as my vision blurred. Then I Felt the hallway closing in. I was tumbling along a tunnel. My brother was Floating through the air ahead oF me. ‘Wait!’ Ray turned. He seemed close, but when I reached out, the distance between us shiFted. And suddenly there were others – spectral creatures with Fins and scales. It’s up to you, Ray whispered. The community needs you. 7 ‘I don’t understand. Ray, wait . .’ My brother shook his head. It’s up to you now, Izzy. Watch the ocean. The sharks will show you the way. ‘Sharks?’ Ray nodded, then driFted towards a blinding light. ‘No,’ I cried. ‘I won’t let you go.’ ‘Isabel!’ Mum’s voice drew me back. The creatures slunk into mind shadows as an oFFicer led me to a chair. I looked at Mum. Her Face was pale. ‘Isabel said there’s been an accident.’ The sergeant looked puzzled. ‘We didn’t tell her . .’ ‘They’re twins. She Feels things. Please, what’s happened?’ The policewoman looked at me curiously. ‘Mrs Williams, your son has been involved in an accident. We don’t have all the details yet. A boy saw an octopus at Abalone Cove where Ray was snorkelling. He said it had blue rings. Your son has been taken to hospital.’ ‘Is Ray all right?’ ‘We’re not sure.’ Mum grabbed her car keys. ‘I’ll take you,’ Sergeant Crisp oFFered. Then the sergeant’s portable radio crackled. She stepped aside to take the call then turned to Mum. Her eyes told us beFore her words. ‘I’m so sorry . .’ Mum clutched the carved shark statuette on our mantelpiece. Its shell eyes seemed to glow as an eerie buzzing Filled my ears. For the First time in Fourteen years I was no longer one oF two. ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Constable Glover muttered. He returned with a mug oF warm Milo and said, ‘Sip this. The sugar will help.’ That was three months, two weeks and five days ago. I haven’t drunk Milo since. * 8 I look out the cabin window again at the wing lights. What did Ray mean when he said sharks would show me the way? To where? Is our family in Papua New Guinea the community he was talking about? I close my eyes and loosen my seatbelt. There’s plenty of time to try to work out what Ray meant. Mum and I are on an overnight flight from Perth to Brisbane before connecting with our morning flight to Papua New Guinea. I plug in my earphones and flick through the audio channels. A song Ray loved comes on. I quickly change channels. Ray and I spent our first years in PNG and, although I look like other girls on the surface, I’ve always felt a bit different. Now it’s like I’ve slid into a parallel world. I still can’t believe my brother’s gone. At school I keep thinking he’ll be there. My best friends are kind. They offer advice, but their words don’t really help. I can’t bear people watching me. My skin feels raw. I hide behind my fringe, avoiding eye contact. In class I can’t concentrate. The teachers let me stare into space, but I know they won’t leave me alone forever. At lunchtime, I sit in a toilet cubicle, staring at graffiti-covered walls. Last week the words Felicity is a Loser became Follow the Sharks. Then other words merged to become an image of my brother. He was clawing at the wall as giant tentacles dragged him downwards. I scratched those tentacles till my fingers bled. A Year Seven girl heard me whimpering inside the cubicle. She told the duty teacher, who rang my mother. Mum came to collect me. It was a quiet drive home. My days are bad, but nights are worse. In my dreams I keep seeing Ray trapped behind a watery curtain. It feels like my brother needs me to do something. Sometimes when I wake from nightmares, I hear Mum crying.