Archive for August, 2012

Interview: Rowena Cory Daniells

Rowena Cory Daniells’ latest book, The Price of Fame, has just been released through Clan Destine Press. Set in St Kilda in both the 1980s and the present day, it’s a paranormal crime thriller, engaging both music and painting in the unravelling of the murder mystery.

The storytelling is vivid, the characters strong and the distinctive sense of place combines with a slow-building creepiness to make The Price of Fame a compelling read. And it contains so many of my favourite things: Melbourne, mystery and rock and roll!

To celebrate the release of the book, I asked RC Daniells a few questions about the book, music and art.

Q: The Price of Fame is set in St Kilda: what relationship do you have with that town?

When I moved to Melbourne at the age of eighteen, I ended up living in St Kilda and stayed there (in several different flats) for the next twelve years. I loved Acland Street with its continental cake shops. I used to wander along the Esplanade to look at the craft markets and I used to go for early morning jogs through the Blessington Street Gardens.

Q: The Price of Fame combines crime, the paranormal and rock music. What do you think makes those three concepts go together?

Perhaps I’m weird but to me this seems perfectly normal. We lived in a grand old mansion that had been turned into flats. Below us were the members of a punk rock band who would practise all hours of the night and have noisy fights. One of our friends was a taxi driver who used to pick up street kids and try to help them. I was reading a lot of SF, fantasy and horror. It seemed only natural to combine all these elements. I wrote the early narrative thread of the novel when I was twenty-three, then added the contemporary thread more recently.

I should say here that the people in this book are invention. Like Mark Twain’s Tom Sawyer, they are an amalgamation of lots of people, fused together to drive a narrative.

Rowena and Lindy Cameron

Rowena (right) and Clan Destine publisher Lindy Cameron

Q: What music influenced the book?

Suffering through nights of trying to sleep while the band rehearsed. Someone told me they were The Boys Next Door (later known as The Birthday Party). I don’t know if they were, but I do know they were doing the whole Punk Rock thing. There was a vibrant music scene happening in Melbourne at the time. My husband Daryl was going to hotels like The Prince of Wales where bands like The Models, The Ears, Midnight Oil and Men at Work were playing.  He says if you want to get a feel for what it was like, watch the movie Dogs in Space, directed by Richard Lowenstein, staring Michael Hutchence.

Q: Does music influence your writing generally?

I’ve done some surveys with writers on this topic and I’ve found about 75% of writers are music oriented. They’ll play certain songs to get them in the mood for certain books, even make up a play list to listen to. Music is powerful. It goes straight to the hind-brain and draws on our emotions so it’s not surprising authors use it to help them find the ‘zone’ when they’re writing.

The proportion of writers who are visually based is much smaller. I’m one of the visuals. I can go to the art gallery and come out feeling like I’ve reached a zen state. I dream vividly in full colour (sometimes with a sound track, sometimes with people singing in rhyme. The night zombies did a 1940s song and dance routine down the street was pretty amazing). But I’m not a writer who will make up a play list for my books.

Q: Do you have favourite music to listen to while you write, or do you prefer to write in silence?

Looks like I’ve answered this one. When I was illustrating, (I used to illustrate children’s books and I painted super-realist), I would play classical music. But when I write I don’t seek out music. If something is playing in the background with lyrics, I find the words get in the way of what I’m writing.

Q: What artists do you find most interesting/stimulating or are just your favourite? 

Ahh, artists. You can hear me drawing a big breath. There are so many, I’m sure to forget a few.

There’s George de la Tour (1592, 1652), who did amazing things with light. He brings the intimacy of a life lived by candle light to us five hundred years later.

There’s Joseph Leyendecker, who was a homosexual immigrant to the US, yet he shaped the way US citizens thought of themselves and created the ‘look’ for a generation. You’ll recognise his work from the many Post covers and advertisements he did.

There’s the Pre-Raphaelites who reacted against the establishment until they became establishment. Their woman are beautiful, romantic and haunted. (I’ve blogged about them here).

There’s Maxfield Parrish with his saturated colours and idyllic settings.

I’ve blogged about Art Nouveau and Art Deco in the past because both these styles inspire me.

Sigh. Just writing about them makes me happy.

Narrelle M Harris is a Melbourne-based writer. Find out more about her books, iPhone apps, public speaking and other activities at www.narrellemharris.com.

2012
08/29
CATEGORY
Interviews
writers
writing
7 comments

Lessons in language: Remember my name (fame!)

to narrelle: (verb): to dress in a slightly eccentric fashion, associated with lady novelists

Like many people, I wouldn’t mind my name being remembered by history. Who wouldn’t want to be, like Shakespeare or Herodotus, known and named centuries after their death?

But maybe not quite like other people, I’d rather like my contribution to history to be a new verb. Madeleine narrelled every Sunday. Or maybe a noun.  Everybody appreciates a fine narrelle.

English vocabulary contains some terrific words that come from proper nouns.  Many of these eponyms come from people’s names: sandwich, martinet, quisling, pavlova.

Even place names can become regular English words given enough time: the word doolally (meaning deranged or irrational) c0mes from the western Indian town of Deolali and dates from the 19th -20th century when British soldiers waited there before being mustered home. Between the boredom, the heat and (presumably) serious PTSD, many soldiers were hospitalised in the local sanatorium with mental health problems. Doolally isn’t used so often these days, but the word still pops up in early 20th century British fiction.

Back to people. After some research (at the superb Alpha Dictionary: Eponyms site) it seems that it’s a bit hit or miss whether people who are turned into regular nouns are actually remembered fondly.

I mean, the Earl of Sandwich might be perfectly happy to live on in the language as the inventor of the result of slapping a bit of cheese and pickle between two chunks of bread; Anna Pavlova might think it’s just fine to have her dancing career dismissed in favour of a sticky dessert made of egg whites, sugar, cream and fruit. Chances are that James Watt is perfectly thrilled to have given his name to a unit of power; and 18th Century physician Caspar Wistar might be crooning with delight that the good hearted botanist Thomas Nuttall named the wisteria vine in his honour.

I can’t help thinking, though, that Nazi collaborator Vidkun Quisling might have thought twice about his choices if he’d known his name would be adopted in the lexicon as a synonym for traitor. Notorious 16th century stickybeak Matthew Parker might have mended his ways if he’d known that ‘nosy parker’ entered the language just because of him.

There are other less-than-flattering contributions individuals have made to the language. US politician Elbridge Gerry gave us ‘gerrymander’, which is a dodgy way to draw up voting boundaries; sharp-tempered Jean Martinet gave us the name for a rigid disciplinarian.

So, it appears than unless I invent something cool (like a biro or a hansom cab) or discover an animal or a plant (like a guppy or a zinnia) or invent a delicious and convenient foodstuff  (or make a friend who’ll name an invention, discovery or foodstuff after me) the chances of my name going down in history are pretty low. Unless I behave in a memorably appalling fashion, and then I can join Parker, Quisling and Gerry in the ranks of the linguistically vilified.

I’m not sure what narrelle would mean in a general lexicon anyway. A propensity to talk about vampires a lot? That writer really narrelles; doesn’t she read anything about living people? A measurement of the period between one book of a series and its sequel? It was a good narrelle between the fourth and fifth installments of the series. (Though that would surely be a carmody, measuring 13 years.)

What do you think, gentle readers? If narrelle were to enter the English language, what would it mean?

There’s a copy of Walking Shadows in it for the entry that makes me laugh the hardest. Entries close on Saturday 8 September 2012!  Just write your answer in the comments.

Narrelle M Harris is a Melbourne-based writer. Find out more about her books, iPhone apps, public speaking and other activities at www.narrellemharris.com.

2012
08/23
CATEGORY
language
12 comments

Review: Sharp Shooter by Marianne Delacourt (AWW Challenge #9)

I do enjoy a bit of a crime romp, with a sassy but imperfect heroine and a supporting case of intriguing and maybe disreputable characters. Marianne Delacourt’s Sharp Shooter delivers on both counts, with the bonus of being set in an Australian city. Delacourt’s Perth is a step to the left of the real Perth, but there’s plenty that’s recognisable about my old stomping grounds.

Tara Sharp, former basketballer and aura-reader, seems to be failing spectacularly at life, but getting a little guidance from one Mr Hara sets her on a new path. Trying to use her aura-reading skills to establish herself as a professional body-language interpreter, Tara ends up on the wrong side of a notorious criminal, his notoriously dangerous lawyer and a number of notorious-to-demented people, one or more of whom seem to want her dead.

At the same time, Tara is negotiating her attraction to a man she’s meant to be spying on, the demands of her friends and parents and, well, trying to be a proper grown up. The way to keep out of trouble is to keep her head down and her mouth shut. That gets a bit hard when, first up, you’re not a woman who knows how to shut up and, secondly, when someone, as a favour, has painted your Monaro burnt orange with racing flame insignia.

It’s all as hectic and occasionally ludicrous as you can imagine from that premise. It’s also immense fun. There’s action, awkward situations, unresolved sexual tension, unlikely friends, running like the clappers and a general sense of whirlwind adventure, with just a whisper of the paranormal. A rollicking good read!

Buy Sharp Shooter for Kindle

Narrelle M Harris is a Melbourne-based writer. Find out more about her books, iPhone apps, public speaking and other activities at www.narrellemharris.com.

2012
08/18
CATEGORY
awwchallenge
Reviews
writing
2 comments

Review: Triangle by MKA Theatre

Triangle: Elizabeth Nabben pic by Sarah Walker

Elizabeth Nabben in Triangle; picture by Sarah Walker. Photo courtesy MKA Theatre.

You all know me by now. If there’s a whiff of the vampire around a bit of theatre, I’m knocking enthusiastically on the door yelling “Let the right one in!” demanding, like any good vampire, an invitation to the revelry.

MKA Theatre’s new production, Triangle, came to my attention with words that sounded something like ‘it’s a play about a vampire who lives in a tree in Edinburgh Gardens.’ How, I ask you, could I possible resist?

Triangle is certainly not a traditional vampire story, but it carries all the hallmarks of the genre: temptation, passion, ennui, blood, transformation and death.

It’s also witty, engaging and utterly riveting.

The vampire (Elizabeth Nabben) appears on a large wooden swing, representing her tree in Edinbugh Gardens. These ideas are a great symbol to be getting on with: freedom, playfulness, nature and the outdoors aren’t necessarily what we’d associate with the undead, but this vamp isn’t quite what you expect either. She is enthusiastically focused on the best-worst supermarket in the world, Piedemonte’s in North Fitzroy, where she gets the couscous she likes to eat and sometimes sees Chopper or Vince Colossimo pretending to shop. There’s a dangerous undercurrent to her, though, and a definite sense of the macabre. It’s no surprise that couscous is not the only thing she likes to eat.

The vampire’s strange, cool-blooded freedom contrasts sharply with the comfortable, cosy, claustrophobic life of the mother (Janine Watson) who is clearly being driven to destructive extremes by the banality of her bourgeois life in the inner city, with her son (whom she mostly refers to, disassociatively, as ‘the child’) and her despised, inattentive husband. She doses the kid up on caffeine and scorns her husband for thinking little Finnegan simply suffers from ADD. She plans to leave, to take action, but never seems to actually do anything.

And then she takes the enormous pram to the Gardens, can’t stop crying, and meets a hungry woman…

Their world gets a bit stranger after that as the story splits into multiple lines. The characters in each storyline are slightly different, their paths vary a little, and then a lot, and one path leads to giving in to an ordinary life while the other… doesn’t.

Glyn Roberts’ script is full of energy and wit, especially when humour springing from the ordinary and banal collides with scenes of raw carnage. The living are muted and half dead while the dead are vibrantly alive.

Eugyeene Teh’s fabulously simple set is excellently employed by director Tanya Dickson. Nabben and Watson display terrific physicality as well, orbiting each other around the spare stage. Their movements – languid, sharp, mirrored or disconnected -  are never overdone, but never wasted.

The production leaves me with thoughts about the way a life that’s affluent but dull can contrast starkly with the violent but undoubtedly fully alive choice to embrace dramatic change. The mother at one stage cries out that at last she’s doing something, and even if what she’s doing at the time is a terrible thing, that sense of finally acting, actively choosing the path of her life instead of bumping along full of rage and resentment, makes her a much more appealing person.

I’m sure I’d have other insights into this terrific, gruesomely horrific-wonderful play in a few days time, but you need to rush along to North Melbourne to see it before then. You really do.

Triangle plays until 4 August 2012 at MKA’s pop-up theatre at 64 Sutton St, North Melbourne. Performance starts at 8pm.

Tickets: $25 full; $20 concession, at the door or online. It’s very popular, though, so buying beforehand is wise. Visit MKA to book.

Narrelle M Harris is a Melbourne-based writer. Find out more about her books, iPhone apps, public speaking and other activities at www.narrellemharris.com.

2012
08/01
CATEGORY
Reviews
Theatre
vampires
writing
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