Here we are, it's July again
exploring the archives | reading uncomfortable things | actively not mentioning that thing that happens in December, or only accidentally
With the winter solstice already in the past it seems that time is nothing but unstoppable. Here we are, it’s almost the end of July again, again, again. I skipped a note last fortnight due to the school holidays and a work trip, so it has been around a month since I was last here. I am not the best at finding the time to read other newsletters on Substack, but on Friday I spent the morning studying before allowing myself the luxury of a cup of tea (two!) and some internet browsing before school pick up. I read Bri Lee’s latest newsletter on time and instagram and priorities and Maggie Mackellar’s exquisite notes on change and recommend them if you have the time. They both tie into thoughts I’ve been having of late, as we move into yet another school term, and yet more commitments and obligations clogging up the calendar, when all I find myself wanting to do (with the deepest anti-social urgency) is read and walk with my dog through layers of grey and float around the place with my noise cancelling headphones on listening to audiobooks, podcasts and gentle music. Sometimes my mind can be a cavity of anxiety and unhinged dread, but this week it’s brimming with ideas and curiosity and I’m quite comfortable in here, entertaining myself and keeping myself company.
At the time of writing my email inbox is overflowing, I’m back from a work trip interstate (something I rarely do: leaving my family and the comfort zone and getting on a plane wasn’t without some amount of trepidation - refer to the above comment re unhinged dread) and second semester of library school has begun. Things have ramped up a bit (there was even a brief mention of Christmas in my family WhatsApp - I know, I’m sorry, stop!), and yet I’m far from ready for it. What to do, what to do…
In amongst all this peripheral thought and activity, I have been reading. If You Go by Alice Robinson (along with an episode of Bridgerton and a hurriedly gulped sav blanc) kept this fragile flyer company on the plane and was unputdownable. Firstly, the way in which Robinson describes motherhood is phenomenal: achingly so. Unsentimental, dark and bitterly real, she gently conjures the complexities of love and longing, responsibility and ethics. Whilst you might come to this book anticipating a dystopian tale (ask and you shall receive) you’ll also somewhat unexpectedly be drawn into a braided narrative about sacrifice, loneliness, domesticity, memory, ecology and morality.
On my bedside table at the moment is an erratic stack of books (with things like this and this and this) but I’m mostly reading A Very Secret Trade by Cassandra Pybus, a horrific window into the colonial history of the trade and mutilation of Tasmanian (and other) Aboriginal bodies and remains. It is an incredibly disturbing yet important read, particularly for white Australians. [As a side note, this is something I grapple with, saying it’s an important read, as I know not everyone likes reading things that make them feel uncomfortable. Maybe I should frame it this way: if you’re in the privileged position of having choices around your reading material and time, I'd suggest you consider reading this book. Thomas Mayo’s quote on the front cover of A Very Secret Trade says it best: ‘Truth-telling is every Australian’s responsibility. Reading this book will help you to walk with us.’]
Other things…
In my librarianship studies this fortnight I’ve been diving deep into archives: what they are, who keeps them, their purpose. If (like me) this kind of extreme nerding gets you all aflutter, check out (the archives of) this podcast recorded on Wurundjeri land.
I stumbled across the ACMI Environmental Accelerator Film Festival which you can stream for free here until 28 July, aiming to ‘to increase awareness and action on a range of pressing environmental issues by using documentary storytelling as a tool to create change.’
I spent almost two weeks reading, taking notes on and mulling over Joëlle Gergis recent Quarterly Essay, Highway to Hell: Climate Change and Australia’s Future, an accessible reportage into the political and scientific undercurrents of climate change in this country. If reading the essay is not your cup of tea, you can watch an interview about the essay with Joëlle and Polly Hemming from the Australia Institute here.
I’m still working on this beanie, and hope to finish it before the end of the season, though that is looking unlikely (knitting always accompanied by Jimmy Perez, as I have previously confessed).
And that’s quite enough for now.
Until next time, travel light,
Lucinda x
Lots of great recommendations, thanks Lucinda 🙏