Being my final semester at uni, there was perhaps no better way to finish then how I began, with one of Michaels literature units. I thoroughly enjoyed this unit, both the way it was taught, and the content itself. It was a pleasure to learn about the diverse history of this young nation through the eyes of the many authors that we looked at. At the conclusion of the unit, I can definitely concur that Australia is indeed an unfinished product which has through the years been revealing itself to us, most notably through the body of literature it has produced. It was so fascinating to read literature from early colonialists like Charles Sturt, who viewed the country with such fascination and curiosity. Or Louisa Ann Meredith, who captured the virgin beauty of New South Wales in the mid 19th century. Latter authors like Henry Lawson also captured my attention, conveying the plight of the working class man in a modernised society in “Faces in the Street” and of the bush woman in “The drovers wife”. Down the track, we studied literature that captured the immigrant experience, in Patrick White’s Tibby Szabo which was also fascinating, as it showed such a dramatic shift in the Australian experience. I would have to choose my best blog to be my very first one, as I believe it to be the most genuine and authentic. Only weeks after reading and learning about the different views towards the early Australian landscape, I went on a hunting trip in outback Australia. I got to experience the wild beauty and solitude the authors we studied in wrote about in their literature which was amazing. If I could choose a another favourite blog, it would be my fifth blog, which was a short poem I wrote in the style of Henry Lawson, inspired directly by his poem “Faces in the crowd.” I based the poem in modern day Australia and described the plight of young people getting caught up in the clubbing scene of Sydney. My fourth blog is also another favourite, and probably the blog I am most proud of, because I had the most fun writing it. I wrote a short creative piece inspired by the interactions of Tibby Szabo and Miss Slattery. In this blog, I humorously captured an encounter between a door to door salesman and an elderly Lebanese man, which for me summarises the beauty of the contemporary multicultural experience and is a testament to the diversity of this ever evolving place we call Australia. I also enjoyed writing my peer reviews in this unit, particularly I loved appreciating how people had such different yet talented writing abilities. For example, two blogs might be at a distinction standard and yet both be completely different. I loved how the uniqueness of the individual writer was present throughout the whole blogging process, be it in a creative or critical blog.
I would like to conclude by affirming the words of David Malouf, who made the profound statement that “Australia is still revealing itself to us.” Indeed, from the early indigenous inhabitants, to colonial Australia, to a post world-war multicultural society, Australia is constantly evolving and forming new shapes as the years go by. Undoubtedly it is impossible to put a name, title or label on this amazing country, it is too diverse, too colourful, too different, there are far to many contrasts. Rather then declare what Australia is, I would after this unit conclude that we should let it be, rather then tell it what it to be.

Creative – Write a short poem in the style of Henry Lawson.

Sydneys youth marching line by line,
Into the city, to the slaughter like swine.
Off they go to nightclubs and bars,
Their innocence is stolen,
They will get there by cars.

Drugs and alcohol, sex and violence
Loud music, a lack of silence
Its what is cool, its what is accepted,
Everyones doing it, its highly respected.

And off they go, friday and Saturday night
In search of fun, in a place without light
Sydneys youth, who have not yet reached maturity,
In dens of filth, that are void of purity.

A quick fix can surely be acquired,
There are so many options for one to be inspired
But once the night is over,
When the music and lights have ceased
The emptiness will return, and so will the lack of peace.

Alyssa that was a awesome blog, you have a very unique style of writing. You have a heavy emphasis on short, truncated sentences, which flow nicely as they contain allot of meaning but are also very authentic. You dont waffle on when describing whats around you, rather you state it clearly and concisely. There is also allot of descriptive language in the blog which paints a vivid of the beach and shrubbery before you.
My favourite part was were you juxtaposed Wooli beach with the “overcrowded’ northern beaches, it gave the image of Wooli being a sort of escape or paradise from what you are used to in Sydney.
Keep up the great work 😀

My review of Alyssa Seccull’s Blog 1 about Wooli Beach. Awesome blog with vivid imagery and a unique style of writing.

Link: https://alyssaseccullsliteraturejournal.home.blog/2019/08/19/blog-1-wooli-beach/comment-page-1/?unapproved=3&moderation-hash=ce8f77c5b28c35af10d3ec60a42bd7d4#comment-3

Creative – Create a short story documenting the interactions of an immigrant with an Australian door knocker in the style of Tibby Szabo and Miss Slattery.

Knock. Knock. Kno–
“Eh min?” echoed a voice from behind the door.
“Hi my name is Jason sir, im here from-”
The door slammed wide open.
“Ash bedak? What do you want?”
A well fed, middle aged Arabic looking man stood across the house entrance.
“Hi sir, my name is Jason im here from-“
“I know what you are, you are Jehovah’s witness!”
“No sir I assure you im-“
“Enough!” he yelled.
“You are at the wrong house I assure you this much.”
“Sir im not a Jehovah’s witness, im here from-”
“What are you? Enta Masihi? Are you a Christian?” he barked, raising his voice higher.
“Well sir I am actually, but-”
“Unna barref, I know these things. Let me tell you sumsing, Jonathon-“
“Jason sir-”
“Whatever.” he snapped.
“I know what you are. You are a protestation, you want to change me.”
“Protestant sir, and no Im not here for that-“
“Habibi, let me tell you sumsing” he repeated.
“Unna, im from Libanon. My family is Libanese, but we are Orthodox Greek.” he raised his eyebrows triumphantly.
“Sir thats wonderful but-“
“Habibi.” he repeated, proceeding to point at a thick gold chain nestled in between the forest of greyish hair adorning his chest.
“We are original Orthodox. You know what Orthodox mean? That mean the original way of Jesus. We are not interested!”
“Sir!”
“Eh what?” he replied, surprised that his monologue had been so abruptly interrupted.
“I am selling solar power sir, not evangelising, please if you could lend me your ears for just a few minutes. You could save hundereds of dollars every month.”
His expression changed, the caterpillar of a moustache nestled on his upper lip suddenly gave way to reveal a huge smile.
“Habibi why didn’t you just tell me!”
“Sir I tried-“
“Lek ya ahlo sahla, you come in for coffee and tell me all about your solar flower. Yallah come.”
“Solar power sir-“
“Ya Latifi, Ya Latifi!” he shouted across the house as he swivelled away from the door.
“Put on the Ahawe ya Latifi!”
“You drink with Sugar?” he said as he turned back around to face the door.
“One please.” sighed the salesman as he finally gave up.
“Yallah come Jonathon, we drink coffee, and we talk business.”

Key:
Eh min – whos that?
Ash bedak – what do you want?
Enta masihi – are you Christian?
Unna barref – I know
Habibi – my darling
Unna – me
Ahlo Sahla – welcome
Yalla – hurry up
Ahawe – Lebanese coffee
Latifi – female name

Creative – Take any single Australian painting that you saw at the gallery yesterday (it must be one that you saw) and write a description either in poetry or prose. Pay close attention to detail in your description. What you are in fact doing in this exercise is a piece of Ekphrastic Writing. Check up the meaning of this word!

“Good Lord Andreas, can we slow down already.” barked Hans in his husky German accent.
“Not yet old friend, we must get to the top of this waterfall, I am convinced the view will be splendid.” replied Andreas with authenticity, but with his focus fixed elsewhere. With his hand extended upwards, Andreas mumbled to himself as he paced on the rocky ground beneath, his eyes transfixed on the glory before him.
“Look at the beauty, the grandeur… it is so virgin… so untouched!” His thought process was brought to a halt by the loud groans of Hans beneath him.
“You’ve brought me out here to die havent you! I just know it! And for what? To view this God forsaken wasteland!”
Andreas turned his loving eyes to behold the frustrated and irritated Hans beneath him. His eyes lit up as he let out a knowing chuckle from deep within his belly,
“Oh Hans, have I been with you this long and you still cannot see what is before us? My dear friend, the problem is not with this landscape, it is with your eyes!”
Hans countenance began to change as he sobered up from his miniature tantrum, which had been occurring more frequently of late.
“Come Hans, rest your hands on this rock and look at the waterfall. We need not do anything to it Hans, look at how splendid it is! So free flowing, and the trees, look at the trees Hans how wild and untamed they are!”
Submitting to the loving goad of his colleague, Hans reluctantly perched his body on the rock and fixed his gaze upwards.
“Andreas its so barren, its so colourless.” he questioned with a childish innocence. “How could you even dare compare this with the slopes of Innsbruk or the falls of Krimml?”
Andreas remained quiet as he kept his focus above, his hand still moving around from spot to spot, as if he couldn’t capture enough of the beauty despite his very best efforts.
“My dear Hans.” whispered Andreas in a quieter voice, his eyes still fixed above.
“You are far to accustomed to the chiseled perfection that Our Father above has graced our homeland with. But here, my dear Hans, here is a different type of glory. There is a wildness in this nature that cannot be subdued, a beauty that cannot be described, in this bush lies a peace that surpasses all understanding.”
“But Andreas, we cant even paint the landscape before us. Its too natural, too uneven, too unpredictable!”
“A-HAH!” shouted Andreas with excitement, as if Hans had finally caught onto his wave length.
“That is precisely the point my Dear Hans! Here lies a beauty like nothing we have encountered before on our many adventures. A beauty that no brush can capture, a beauty that not even the greatest of poets can describe. That is true beauty Hans, beauty that cannot be contained or captured! It must be experienced! Yes, it must be experienced..”
He lost focus of Hans almost instantly, his attention going back to the nature before him as he began mumbling to himself once more. “Milford… Milford is beautiful, and Lysefjord is fantastic, but this.. ” his voice became lost in the sound of a company of rosellas flying up ahead.
Andreas turned his attention back to Hans, awakened from his captivating revelation by the sound of the birds above.
“Come now, dear Hans.” he whispered.
“Let us ascend to the top of this waterfall.”

Ethan, I really enjoyed reading your blog. I like your sense of humour and your use of short truncated sentences, they convey allot of emotions but also authenticity. I also appreciate hearing about your cultural background, and definitely concur with you that this country is built on immigration and diversity. I like how you mentioned that sense of familiarity you feel when walking through Sydney, that was really insightful. There really is unity in our diversity here. Awesome blog, keep up the great work 😀

My peer review of Ethan Hua’s blog 1. A witty and relatable blog, and although he chose a hard question to answer he did a great job.

Link: https://ethansopinion.home.blog/2019/08/12/we-are-australian/comment-page-1/?unapproved=46&moderation-hash=d4a3c40dd91806503a1e065c1def81a8#comment-46

CRITICAL – What does A.D. Hope’s poem Australia (written half a century after the 1890s) add to the debate on what is Australia?

Far from a poet who celebrates the natural beauty of Australia or even the colonialists who’s bewildered eyes beheld Australia for the first time in awe and fascination, A.D Hope in his poem “Australia”, provides a scathing critique of the country. Hope has famously been dubbed as the “20th century’s greatest 18th century poet”, alluding to his classical and satirical style of writing, and rightly so. When reading the poem “Australia”, the scepticism, the pride, the arrogance and the disdain with which he writes resembles that of a European who would have beheld the country 140 years earlier. Infact, when reading the poem, one could almost assume that he had been born and bred on the shores of the Emerald Isle itself, not outback New South Wales. But it must be said there is something admirable about the way Hope writes. His use of metaphors and allusions are almost parabolic in nature, as Hope portrays deep meanings through simple, relatable examples. For instance, in the second half of the second stanza, he likens Australia to a women with tender breasts yet a dry womb, in essence saying that Australia has a fertile exterior but within is infact infertile and barren. He also interestingly comments on the drabness of the Australian landscape, which is fascinating because by this time period most people would have generally begun to embrace the uniqueness of the Australian landscape, rather then detest it. Further down the poem, in the fifth stanza, there is again a conceited attack, this time not on Australia, but on Australians themselves. He compares the 5 major Australian cities to parasitic sores and robbers, potentially highlighting the effects of capitalism on the country. He also states in the same stanza that Australia is a place where “second hand Europeans” can breed, which is a bold and somewhat self righteous statement, essentially denoting Australians as second class to Europeans or not real Europeans. A.D Hopes poem adds much to the debate about what Australia is, because, in my opinion, he holds a very traditional and controversial view of the country in a time where one would expect Australians to be progressing in a very different direction. Hope dosent hail it as a glorious british colony, a young country down under, his writing is void of nationalistic sentiment. Nor does he praise the solitude and beauty of the Australian bush, to him it is barren and useless. Hope maintains an intelligent, sceptical and gloriously unique view of the country, one of skepticism and critique. Wether you agree or disagree with the man, you cannot help but praise the prose with which he writes and ingenuity through which he shares his poetry. What does he add to the debate on Australia? That is up to you to decide.

Isabella, that was an awesome blog post, you have a great style of communicating. Your blog was very authentic and as I read it I could literally imagine the childhood you had on that farm, it sounds amazing. You have great sentence structure and use a variety of powerful literary devices which is great. In your blog you are also extremely descriptive whilst keeping your writing concise and relatable, I especially like those short sentences that carry heaps of meaning. Keep up the great work 😀

My peer review of Isabella Giandomenico’s blog 1. A descriptive and delightful blog to read on her childhood experiences on the family farm.

Link: https://isabelladigi.home.blog/2019/08/16/week-4-blog-1-for-judith-wright-the-mountain-has-its-own-meaning-describe-a-favourite-place-that-has-a-real-meaning-for-you-that-you-would-hate-to-see-destroyed/comment-page-1/?unapproved=1&moderation-hash=1935321a5ee1460fef18cdcd0799d54e#comment-1

CREATIVE – Create your own creative work drawing on any of the work we have been exploring and anchoring it in your own experience.

Me and 7 friends embarked from the busy suburbs of western Sydney at 2am in the morning for a 5 and a half hour drive north to the sleepy village of Mullaley, just outside of Tamworth. We were hunting on an 8,000 acre property that was used to raise cattle. The topography of the land was absolutely amazing, like nothing I have ever seen before in Sydney. I dont want to talk about my time hunting (which I thoroughly enjoyed) as much as I want to mention how I came to appreciate the amazing Australian landscape during my time away. The literature of colonialists and the first settlers came alive when I viewed the wild Australian bush and I understood why the land would have been so distasteful and unappealing to their conditioned eyes. The problem was not with the Australian landscape, rather the problem was with what they wanted from it. The earlier european explorers did not come to view what the land could give to them, rather what they could take from it, and do to it, so in that regard, it was indeed useless. But during my 4 days in the bush, I did not possess those same eyes. There is such a profound beauty and uniqueness in the Australian bush that cannot be found anywhere else. For starters, theres no reception, Praise God! That in itself was a massive burden lifted. But spending time in the bush, I came to concur with the later authors studied in class, who rather than rejecting the land embraced its beauty, its solitude and the solace it provides. The stunning colours of the rainbow lorikeets and eastern rosellas sharply contrasted the dry and arid land which lay beneath them. I seriously marvelled when wondering at how such colourful creatures could inhabit such a dry and drably coloured landscape. The landscape itself was so unpredictable, it was rocky, grassy, mountainous, dry and yet fertile. There were creeks, there were plains, there was an abundance of amazing trees and yet there was a lack of anything that was truly green. Far from the cautious eyes of Charles Sturt or the prideful gaze of Charles Darwin, my experience in the bush was one of appreciation and escape, of reflection and enjoyment, of glorying in the amazing creation set before me.