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An Uncomfortable Question on the Great Australian Novel

JA December 08

Last week, the University of Melbourne held a rather lively debate on whether it was still possible to publish the ‘great Australian novel’ in an era of globalisation, with Chris Flynn (Torpedo), Ken Gelder (Melbourne University) and 
Nicole Eckersley on the negative, and Aviva Tuffield (Scribe),
Bob Sessions (Penguin)
and Jessie Mawson on the affirmative (the winning side). While the arguments got a bit bogged down in semantics at times, the topic was certainly thought-provoking, and managed to touch on something that I’ve been trying to wrap my head around for a while.

The term ‘great Australian novel’ is a catchphrase that we see constantly repeated, and nowhere is this more evident than the world of literary prizes (even if an award doesn’t have an express cultural mandate like the Miles Franklin, it is still a term regularly used to talk up the winner). To write the great Australian novel often seems to be held up as a beacon, a bright goal to which all writers and publishers should aspire. Granted, this once accepted benchmark has been put under scrutiny over the years, for example the push for a more generous interpretation of the all-important Miles Franklin criterion, that the winner ‘must present Australian life in all its phases’. But despite the debates and articles written, I can’t help but feel that there is a certain level of discomfort, ambivalence and even defensiveness whenever we go to address the question of whether there is even such a thing as the great Australian novel, and whether prizes should strive to find and award it. Perhaps this is because the whole debate brings up a flurry of sentiments that are close to home and are, more often than not, contradictory, such as national identity, cultural gatekeeping, the need to both protect and diversify Australia literature and so on.

Sam Cooney, writing in the latest issue of Voiceworks, points out the power struggle here:

Literary awards shape our culture; they influence what it means to be ‘Australian’. This is without doubt. While any published work written by an Australian or about Australian contributes to the vast blob we call our ‘national consciousness’, when one book is held up above all others it has an unproportionate weight in dictating who we are as a whole, even if we disagree with it entirely.

This also from Ryan Paine:

If people do gravitate toward award-winning literature when deciding what to read, then the determination of what qualifies as award-winning does lend inordinate cultural weight to certain books. If the public’s vision of culture (which, to some extent is derived from the literature they read) contributes to the way culture is actually realised in Australia, then if we change the literature they read (by awarding different literature with relevant accolades) we alter the nature of the culture that is realised and we all have to endure.

The trouble is, as pointed out by the negative at the debate, the idea that one book or award can come to represent an entire nation is, to put it bluntly, impossible. These days, we are constantly moving, shifting, changing and evolving, not only in a cultural and geographical sense, but also technologically – as Chris Flynn pointed out, new media such as Twitter, Facebook and blogs have instant global reach. In such a world, the very idea of ‘national identity’ is thrown up into flux, and I think this is perhaps one of the reasons we tend to cling so strongly to the idea of the great Australian novel in the first place – because we are scared of this uncertainty, and because of the old fear that if we can be everything than perhaps we are really nothing.

The Miles Franklin Award this year was awarded to Breath by Tim Winton, a fantastic, graceful book by any standard and well-deserving of praise. I am an avowed Winton fan and have read him many times over, but this year I couldn’t help hoping that The Slap by Christos Tsiolkas would take out the gong. Both books may have been brilliant in their own ways, but for a prize with such an overt cultural mandate, I felt that The Slap would have made the braver and more relevant choice. This is because I found it to be the more challenging read – it jolted me out of my comfort zone and made me realise just how dark and restless and varied contemporary Australia is. Breath on the other-hand, seemed to re-affirm the Miles as an award that still clung to a nostalgic version of Australian life, one that may slowly be vanishing.

A few weeks back, Meanjin ran a Spike Poll on the best Australian fiction. I realise that this exercise too had the qualifier ‘best Australian’, but the idea was to provoke debate, and also see what people felt best captured the here and now. (I was thrilled when Dead Europe came in at number one, because if anything this novel showed just how confusing, dark and difficult it can be to grasp any notion of identity and nationality in the present times). I’m not sure how panellists voted and I can only speculate that it was for the fiction that they themselves liked best. However one or two voters said that they had some trouble choosing between what they enjoyed reading and what they felt they should be voting for. Sam quotes author Michael Meehan, who has judged several literary prizes, on the danger of assuming that there is a universal Australian experience that can ever be put up on a pedestal:

at the outset we all agreed to put forward the books we liked best… Otherwise, you can get into some pretty sterile formulas – which novel best embodies ‘national themes and current issues, or worse, which novels are ethically and ideologically the most ‘sound’.

While I have to agree with Chris, Ken and Nicole that the idea of the great Australian novel is no longer relevant, I’m also aware that it is almost impossible to stop referring to great Australian literature in some way. Likewise, I should point out that I’m certainly not against literary prizes – as Angela Meyer says, they can ‘raise awareness of authors to the reading public, and also give winning authors an income to live off, giving them time to create a new work’, which is absolutely crucial. Given all these things, I think that references to the great Australian novel are unavoidable, for now anyway. What we need to do is perhaps be careful about the way we use it, and the extent to which we take the expression ‘Australian life in all its phases’ into account when judging awards, which, hopefully, will be done with a grain of salt.

If you’re interested, the Millions also have an interesting essay on nationalism and prizes, here.


 

Comments

by Jane GW
08 Dec 09 at 12:16

Great post Jess. It's something I've been thinking about recently too - the idea of a 'great Australian novel', or even of an 'Australian' novel, in an electronic transnational age. Especially after writing a book called 'Australian Classics', which purportedly included some 'great Australian novels' among poems and non-fiction. After immersing myself in Australian literature exclusively for a year I was reminded that broad themes do run through our literature, mostly concerned with dispossession and cultural division, articulated in various ways throughout our 200 year literary history and recently and most brilliantly in 'Dead Europe'. So I still think the term 'Australian novel' is useful - because while our heads and often our bodies are more and more located elsewhere, we're also uniquely shaped by living in a continent with an indigenous population with a rich ancient culture, overlaid by 200 years of migration from the four corners of the globe, each bringing its own rich ancient culture. I think 'Dead Europe' and 'The Slap' are perfect examples of great Australian novels. To me they could not have been written anywhere else and their portrayal of hybrid Australia - and of European culture in both Australia and Europe - is electrifying in its freshness and truthfulness. I agree that it would have been exciting if 'The Slap' had won the Miles Franklin this year, with its new generation of 'Aussie blokes' and sheilas' in an Australian landscape that extends no further than the suburban back yard.
But I've been thinking about the 'great Australian novel' because I wonder about the novel form itself in an electronic age. I always used to imagine reading or writing 'the great Australian novel', with some fairly clear idea of what that would mean. Yesterday I thought about it and for the first time ever the idea 'great Australian novel' had lost its force - it seemed too definitive and closed a thing for such a shifting multivalent world, more likely that a series of tweets would have something true to say about contemporary life than the sort of sustained fixed narrative writing usually associated with novels. But perhaps that is my own mental limitation and the novel will prove as resilient a cultural form as it's always been.

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by phill
08 Dec 09 at 14:29

I don't want to sidetrack the conversation too much here, but I did just want to say that while I acknowledge The Slap as an important book, I don't think it counts as a Great Australian Novel. Or if it does, then the definition for a GAN needs to be changed.

I gave up reading The Slap halfway through (waits for the stones to be thrown). While I appreciated the style of writing, I could not relate to the characters, or the place, or that limited backyard power culture at all. More importantly, given the big gold sticker announcing its Miles Franklin eligibility, I couldn't believe that this book represented my Australia. However, I live on the west coast and so perhaps this geographical difference can account for my indifference. And then again, perhaps this is how people living in the regions written about in other country's Great Novels feel like, taken aback by the possibility that what they see isn't what is considered a true and accurate representation.

To my mind (and it should be noted that I'm totally unqualified to say any of this) the definition for a Great Novel that represents an entire country's lifestyle requires that that country be able to be written about so specifically. This is reflected in your quote from the Miles Franklin that the winning novel 'must present Australian life in all its phases'. Without knowing too much about its history, I think it can be broadly said that the typical Great American Novel, for example, represents a time and society and attitude that was common more-or-less throughout the entirety of America. Whether it is due to our geographic variety, or as you say the fact that we have such a huge influx of different cultures and ways of living through the various waves of immigration, I believe it to be impossible to completely encompass these same things with respect to Australia. The next best thing to hope for is a novel that honestly presents just one facet of Australian life honestly and accurately. If this is the definition that we accept, then there are clear front-runners for the category: The Slap with its suburban backyard drama, Breath with a reflective on surfing culture and growing up in coastal towns, and many others.

Anyway, I'll stop my uninformed rambling and let the pros continue. Thanks once again for the thought provoking topic!

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by Jess
08 Dec 09 at 15:34

Thanks again for these engaging responses! The more I seem to read, the more it seems I could go on about this topic for another 1000 words.

Jane – that’s a great point about the power of the ‘novel’ in the electronic age.

phill - I think your response to The Slap touches on one of my key issues with the concept of the GAN. You said that you didn't feel it represented your Australia and (quite rightly) that it was impossible for any novel to do so for everyone. To me, this flags the inherent contradiction in the very idea of the GAN. Again, as you say, the best we can hope are a handful of novels that show various aspects of our lives as truthfully as possible.

However, this too is tricky territory. For one, not everyone sees the GAN this way. I think the phrase itself can easily be interpreted as encompassing and absolute. Anyone saddled with it, including the winner of the Miles, can therefore be read as speaking for a ‘majority’. And again, there’s still the difficulty of choosing what aspects of ‘Australian life’ to award.

One of the things that struck me about the debate since is that in some ways the negative and the affirmative were arguing the same thing. One side argued explicitly that GAN (as books relating to jackaroos and the outback and gumtrees) was no longer relevant in today’s world. The other argued that the GAN could be widely interpreted to be many things, whether it be Cate Kennedy’s novel on the Tasmanian wild or Nam Le’s diasporic, The Boat. The point is that it could be any and either of these, which only goes to show difficult it is to come up with any definitive idea of the GAN nowadays.

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by jane
08 Dec 09 at 16:30

Yes, I agree that your comments about 'The Slap', Phill, highlight the problems inherent in the idea of a Great Australian Novel. I was responding more to the idea of whether it was useful to think of literature in terms of nationality at all - and I do think it still can be.

But as for a 'Great' Australian novel - as you say, Jess, the the idea of a 'Great' Australian Novel begins to suggest all-encompassing or representative in a way that's probably not possible in any novel, not of Australia or the 21C any more than America and the 19C or 20C. (Although a novel like 'War and Peace' would aspire to it for 19C Russia.)

As for Great American Novels - eg that supposedly Great American Novel 'Moby-Dick', I don't think that tale of whalers and whales represents 19C US society and attitude any more or less comprehensively than 'The Slap' represents 21C Australian culture. Both are portray part of the whole but for me both are so vivid and rich they speak to broader issues, eg 'The Slap' touches generally on contemporary family life, parenting, discipline, generational change, teen experience, sex, marriage, drugs, alcohol, etc, and I think the fact so many people are reading and discussing it, a year after it was published, whether they 'like' it or not, attests to fact it's hit at nerve that goes beyond suburban Melbourne.

I think it's always been difficult to come up with a definitive idea of the GAN, except that for one moment in Bulletin driven 1890s Sydney a bush-centred national literary culture was enshrined, from which came 'My Brilliant Career' and Miles Franklin's legacy.

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