Havoc in its Third Year
Havoc in its Third Year is a powerful, moving novel set in the religious turmoil of 1630s England. Written by Ronan Bennett, it was only after beginning this book that I realised he had also crafted The Catastrophist, which I read and enjoyed several years ago.
The Catastrophist is set in the dying days of Belgian rule in the Congo and portrays the various conflicts that arose during that chaotic time.
Havoc is similar in its effective use of natural conflict as a narrative tool.
It traces the story of John Brigge, a decent, hard-working farmer and landowner. He also happens to be a Governor on the local town council, the district coroner, and, quietly given the times, a Catholic.
He’s called to hear the case of a murdered infant, with an Irish woman the prime suspect. These were the triumphal days of Puritanism, where even the Church of England was under pressure to abandon ritual and decorative worship. Catholics were feared and persecuted.
Brigge finds the infanticide case less clear cut than his fellow Governors would like, and begins to investigate. At the same time he’s torn towards his duties at home, where his loving wife is about to give
birth to their son. It was a difficult pregnancy and his wife ultimately died.
Meanwhile, the town council fell further under Puritan control. Extremist members forged an unlikely alliance with the former aristocratic ruler, marginalising moderates like Brigge. His Catholicism made it easier to remove him from power and influence.
Brigge was reluctant to join the intrigue and suffered personally as a result. This was the inner conflict, which Bennett handled with great sensitivity and quiet passion.
I’ve always considered that great novels, as opposed to good stories, rely on their treatment of conflict.
In Havoc there was conflict at multiple levels: Religious, political, personal; and several variations of each.
I found Brigge a very frustrating man. I admired his loyalty to family and faith, his sense of justice and fairness, tolerance and virtue. I also wanted to shake him out of his political naivete, which of course I couldn’t do.
The loss of his farm, the fire which burnt the town and the analogy with St Gerome were poignant endings to this beautiful novel. I won’t give anything more away.
Up to mischief
The twins are pretty mobile now, at 13 months of age, and succeed in getting up to mischief without any trouble.
They can walk, run, crawl fast and climb as required. Their only disadvantage, fortunately, is height, so valuables can be securely placed above three feet high.
They’re also bundles of joy, of course, and probably experience more freedom than our older children had at the same age.
Beazley is yesterday’s man
A recent opinion poll showed that only 46 percent of Australians favor a republic (any model). Given the directness of the question, results in favor are generally much higher and this is probably the lowest in two decades.
Such polls don’t carry across to referenda, as Australian history has repeatedly shown. We’re very conservative when it comes to constitutional change.
That’s why I’m surprised and disappointed Kim Beazley chose to identify the republic debate as a key issue in his opening statements as “new” Labor leader.
If the Labor Party believed its own rhetoric, it would listen to the community and act in the interests of the majority. Labor should accept the results of the last referendum and move on with acquiescence for at least a generation.
By focusing on a fringe issue, like the republic, Labor will continue to be marginalised.
Poor Kim. If that’s his best shot then he will remain but a passing shadow, yesterday’s man. His chances of ever becoming Prime Minister are fortunately remote.
Chinaman’s Hole
I took the big kids today to the place they call “Chinaman’s Hole” along the Ovens River just out of Porepunkah towards Eurobin.
There’s a fantasic swimming hole there, with a sandy bottom and deep water. We spent more than three hours enjoying the water in hot sun. Snowy came too and had fun floating on the air mattress.
We were the first to arrive at 11am, but by the time we left about 2.30pm there were 10 cars at the remote spot. I presume the name dates back to the gold mining days of the 1860s.
Local government taxation
I’m surprised how little debate there is in Australia about the archaic practices of local government taxation.
Hopefully the new Howard Government will tackle tax reform in a serious manner, as people like our local MP Sophie Panopoulos have been urging.
If this does occur, I would like to see them work with the states to put municipal taxes on the table as well.
Charging people a yearly sum based on the value of their property is unfair and selective. It’s also subject to large fluctuations as values change.
An argument in favor of the GST was that all people use services and should contribute towards their cost, not just people on wages.
The same argument applies to council rates. I own a property (with assistance from the National Bank) and pay $1322 a year to Alpine Shire. The ony direct service I receive in return is rubbish collection.
Sure, I should contribute to the maintenance of parks and gardens, the salary of the health inspector and local road improvements, but so should people who rent houses and so should visitors.
The solution, in my view, is for rates to be abolished and the GST increased by 2-3 percent or whatever it takes to raise an equivalent amount across the whole of Australia.
About half the total tax pool should be paid to councils on the basis of population and the balance split according to the existing Grants Commission formula, which takes into account factors like isolation, tourism, etc.
Australia Day
Australia Day (January 26) doesn’t mean much to me at all. It’s nice to have a holiday, but like the Queen’s Birthday and Labor Day, the historical meaning of this holiday is not cause for celebration in itself.
For a day to have significance it needs to mark something significant.
January 26 was the date British soldiers, sailors and convicts arrived in Sydney to found the penal colony of New South Wales. They actually landed a few days earlier at Botany Bay, but couldn’t find water, so headed upshore a little to Port Jackson.
Dates that do have significance for me are Christmas, Easter and Anzac Day.
There’s been a lot of PR effort from all levels of government go into promoting Australia Day over the past 20 years, without much success.
It’s hard to contrive nationalist fervor about the launch of a convict settlement, even if that was the inauspicious beginning of a great country.
Some people suggest Anzac Day should be the national day, but that’s a day of reflection, almost spiritual, and should remain sacred.
Our Federation of the six colonies would be worth celebrating, but the founding fathers had no marketing sense when they planned it to occur on January 1, which is already a holiday and everyone’s hungover.
Nobody knows for sure when the first man, black or white, stepped foot in Australia, so that’s out. The Melbourne Cup and AFL grand final are already celebrated and don’t need more official sanction than they already have.
We used to have Empire Day and Victoria Day, but they passed away into the mists of time.
I seriously believe we need a summit of community leaders to tackle this question. We should look at meaningful events in Australian history and reach consensus on one that can be developed as a national day.
Consider the Eureka Stockade, for example, which is a good one, but too controversial. Others might include the Bourke and Wills expedition and victory against Japan. The event needs to be significant and not parochial in terms of location or politics.
Trying to promote January 26 is like the proverbial flogging of a dead horse.
Is there anything better?
Is there anything better than having a 13-month-old baby girl come toddling towards you, with a big smile on her face, saying: “Daddy, daddy,” when she she first sees you?
Gripe zone
A blog is somewhere you can rant. Here are my latest gripes:
Family Assistance Office: This misnamed department of the Howard Government sent us a letter threatening to cut our childcare allowance unless James was immunised.
All our children’s immunisations are up to date, and they always have been. We go to the Bright Medical Centre when they’re due and they’re promptly done. What happens to the paperwork after that is a mystery to me, but I presume it’s entered into the system through Medicare.
I had to write a letter to the so-called Family Assistance Office explaining these facts and giving evidence of James’ immunisations. I pointed out that their letter to us was unsigned. How can government departments justify bad manners like that?
Myrtleford Bi-Lo Supermarket: We shop locally in Bright as much as we can, but as I work in Myrtleford several days a week I sometimes call in at Bi-Lo, especially for bread, milk and other essentials. Their discounted bread is the best deal around for a big family.
I’m annoyed though, that they never have enough checkouts opened, usually just one or two apart from the fast lane (eight items or less).
Perhaps I notice this because I generally call in at lunch time, and the same issue probably applies to all supermarkets.
Anyhow, I generally try to purchase eight items or less, so I can use the express checkout. I’m careful not to abuse the system and feel guilty if I have nine items.
It’s therefore frustrating that Bi-Lo allows people to go through the express lane with 20 items or more. I was stuck behind such a person this week, who chatted amicably with the experienced attendant.
He had at least 20 items, mostly vegetables, which had to be individually weighed. The man’s wife intruded later with a couple of extra items she had obviously been prowling for while the husband was checking out.
This is not the first time I’ve experienced this.
After the cheeky couple departed, my senior “checkout chick” turned around to serve some newly arrived customers at the other counter who wanted cigarettes, ignoring the queue in front of her.
My question to Bi-Lo management is do they deliberately encourage people to go through the express lane with more than eight items?
That’s what happens at Myrtleford. The only way to stop this is for staff to direct such customers to another checkout.
Likewise, is it Bi-Lo policy to fast-track cigarette buyers to the detriment of grocery shoppers? That’s what is happening at Myrtleford.
I’m obviously motivated to comment on these seemingly trivial issues, and may write to the store manager.
Greenhouse assistant?
Alpine Shire Council advertised in the Border Mail today for a “greenhouse assistant”. I thought this was an horticultural position, the nature of which intrigued me, so I read further to try and figure out what the bureaucrats in Bright are up to.
It surprised me further to learn the position is something to do with data collection related to the Greenhouse Effect.
There are a few choice phrases to question why a small local council would be interested in this international scientific phenomenon, the most polite and literary of which is: What the devil?
I daresay they obtained some state or federal funding to finance this scheme, but the hidden costs may never be known (eg supervision, compliance, administration, etc).
And at the end of the day what can usefully be achieved?
I was talking to a local identity in Myrtleford yesterday and he commented on how many people are now employed by Alpine Shire. It’s true that new positions seem to be proliferating under the current regime.
Henderson the Rain King
Henderson the Rain King by Saul Bellow is a
strange book. It’s bizarre plot entices the reader and there are some
hilarious, side-splitting scenes. Unfortunately, long periods of
tedious introspection by the main character, Henderson, undermine the
positive attributes.
Henderson is a rich American who inherited his fortune. He’s a
strong man and a Second World War veteran with an eccentric outlook on
life.
At the age of 56, Henderson tags along with a honeymoon couple to
Africa, but splits from the pair after falling out with the woman.
He decides to venture into the interior and sets off with a guide to
visit the Arnewi people. These are a peaceful cow-loving tribe and
Henderson, a pig breeder, feels at home among them.
They’re suffering a drought and their water supply is contaminated
by frogs. Their superstition forbids them killing the frogs, but
Henderson is under no such restrictions and gained tacit approval to
act.
He devised a scheme to dynamite the frogs and this was successful,
however he also blasted the retaining wall and the tribe’s water supply
washed away.
Henderson left the Arnewi in shame and disgrace to visit the
neighboring Wariri people, hoping news of his frog debacle didn’t
precede him.
He attended a local festival and was the only man present able to
lift a stone statue of the Wariri rain goddess, Mummah, causing him to
be proclaimed Sungo, the rain king.
Unknown to Henderson, he also became next in line to the throne.
He enjoyed a close relationship with the king, Dahfu, and that’s
where the story stalled as they engaged in philosophical discussions
while trying to tame a lion under the king’s palace.
It’s evident from this brief summary that the plot is amusing and
captivating, so it seemed a shame to interrupt the thread with deeper
meaning that escaped me.
Dahfu eventually died, mauled by another lion, and Henderson was
held securely pending his coronation. The idea of being king appealed
to him, although he was concerned at being able to serve the 64 royal
wives and so escaped.
This book won’t appeal to everyone, but it has much merit and certainly fits the bill if you’re looking for something different.
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