- Home
- Quintessential Queensland
- Distinctiveness
- Perceptions
- Perceptions: how people understand the landscape
- From runs to closer settlement
- Geological survey of Queensland
- Mapping a new colony, 1860-80
- Mapping the Torres Strait: from TI to Magani Malu and Zenadh Kes
- Order in Paradise: a colonial gold field
- Queensland atlas, 1865
- Queensland mapping since 1900
- Queensland: the slogan state
- Rainforests of North Queensland
- Walkabout
- Queenslanders
- Queenslanders: people in the landscape
- Aboriginal heroes: episodes in the colonial landscape
- Australian South Sea Islanders
- Cane fields and solidarity in the multiethnic north
- Chinatowns
- Colonial immigration to Queensland
- Greek Cafés in the landscape of Queensland
- Hispanics and human rights in Queensland’s public spaces
- Italians in north Queensland
- Lebanese in rural Queensland
- Queensland clothing
- Queensland for ‘the best kind of population, primary producers’
- Too remote, too primitive and too expensive: Scandinavian settlers in colonial Queensland
- Distance
- Movement
- Movement: how people move through the landscape
- Air travel in Queensland
- Bicycling through Brisbane, 1896
- Cobb & Co
- Journey to Hayman Island, 1938
- Law and story-strings
- Mobile kids: children’s explorations of Cherbourg
- Movable heritage of North Queensland
- Passages to India: military linkages with Queensland
- The Queen in Queensland, 1954
- Transient Chinese in colonial Queensland
- Travelling times by rail
- Pathways
- Pathways: how things move through the landscape and where they are made
- Aboriginal dreaming paths and trading ways
- Chinese traders in the nineteenth century
- Introducing the cane toad
- Pituri bag
- Press and the media
- Radio in Queensland
- Red Cross Society and World War I in Queensland
- The telephone in Queensland
- Where did the trams go?
- ‘A little bit of love for me and a murder for my old man’: the Queensland Bush Book Club
- Movement
- Division
- Separation
- Separation: divisions in the landscape
- Asylums in the landscape
- Brisbane River
- Changing landscape of radicalism
- Civil government boundaries
- Convict Brisbane
- Dividing Queensland - Pauline Hanson’s One Nation Party
- High water mark: the shifting electoral landscape 2001-12
- Hospitals in the landscape
- Indigenous health
- Palm Island
- Secession movements
- Separate spheres: gender and dress codes
- Separating land, separating culture
- Stone walls do a prison make: law on the landscape
- The 1967 Referendum – the State comes together?
- Utopian communities
- Whiteness in the tropics
- Conflict
- Conflict: how people contest the landscape
- A tale of two elections – One Nation and political protest
- Battle of Brisbane – Australian masculinity under threat
- Dangerous spaces - youth politics in Brisbane, 1960s-70s
- Fortress Queensland 1942-45
- Grassy hills: colonial defence and coastal forts
- Great Shearers’ Strike of 1891
- Iwasaki project
- Johannes Bjelke-Petersen: straddling a barbed wire fence
- Mount Etna: Queensland's longest environmental conflict
- Native Police
- Skyrail Cairns (Research notes)
- Staunch but conservative – the trade union movement in Rockhampton
- The Chinese question
- Thomas Wentworth Wills and Cullin-la-ringo Station
- Separation
- Dreaming
- Imagination
- Imagination: how people have imagined Queensland
- Brisbane River and Moreton Bay: Thomas Welsby
- Changing views of the Glasshouse Mountains
- Imagining Queensland in film and television production
- Jacaranda
- Literary mapping of Brisbane in the 1990s
- Looking at Mount Coot-tha
- Mapping the Macqueen farm
- Mapping the mythic: Hugh Sawrey's ‘outback’
- People’s Republic of Woodford
- Poinsettia city: Brisbane’s flower
- The Pineapple Girl
- The writers of Tamborine Mountain
- Vance and Nettie Palmer
- Memory
- Memory: how people remember the landscape
- Anna Wickham: the memory of a moment
- Berajondo and Mill Point: remembering place and landscape
- Cemeteries in the landscape
- Landscapes of memory: Tjapukai Dance Theatre and Laura Festival
- Monuments and memory: T.J. Byrnes and T.J. Ryan
- Out where the dead towns lie
- Queensland in miniature: the Brisbane Exhibition
- Roadside ++++ memorials
- Shipwrecks as graves
- The Dame in the tropics: Nellie Melba
- Tinnenburra
- Vanished heritage
- War memorials
- Curiosity
- Curiosity: knowledge through the landscape
- A playground for science: Great Barrier Reef
- Duboisia hopwoodii: a colonial curiosity
- Great Artesian Basin: water from deeper down
- In search of Landsborough
- James Cook’s hundred days in Queensland
- Mutual curiosity – Aboriginal people and explorers
- Queensland Acclimatisation Society
- Queensland’s own sea monster: a curious tale of loss and regret
- St Lucia: degrees of landscape
- Townsville’s Mount St John Zoo
- Imagination
- Development
- Exploitation
- Transformation
- Transformation: how the landscape has changed and been modified
- Cultivation
- Empire and agribusiness: the Australian Mercantile Land and Finance Company
- Gold
- Kill, cure, or strangle: Atherton Tablelands
- National parks in Queensland
- Pastoralism 1860s–1915
- Prickly pear
- Repurchasing estates: the transformation of Durundur
- Soil
- Sugar
- Sunshine Coast
- The Brigalow
- Walter Reid Cultural Centre, Rockhampton: back again
- Survival
- Survival: how the landscape impacts on people
- Brisbane floods: 1893 to the summer of sorrow
- City of the Damned: how the media embraced the Brisbane floods
- Depression era
- Did Clem Jones save Brisbane from flood?
- Droughts and floods and rail
- Missions and reserves
- Queensland British Food Corporation
- Rockhampton’s great flood of 1918
- Station homesteads
- Tropical cyclones
- Wreck of the Quetta
- Pleasure
- Pleasure: how people enjoy the landscape
- Bushwalking in Queensland
- Cherbourg that’s my home: celebrating landscape through song
- Creating rural attractions
- Festivals
- Queer pleasure: masculinity, male homosexuality and public space
- Railway refreshment rooms
- Regional cinema
- Schoolies week: a festival of misrule
- The sporting landscape
- Visiting the Great Barrier Reef
By:
Lara Cain Gray The literary mapping of Brisbane underwent a major shift in the 1990s. Until this time, even the most celebrated Brisbane authors often had imagined the city as a launching pad: a homely base from which to flee to the brighter lights of London or Sydney. In the early ‘90s, newly favourable conditions saw writers encouraged and acknowledged through initiatives like the Brisbane Writers Festival and the Albert Street Literary Trail. Local writers like Nick Earls, Andrew McGahan and Venero Armanno created a spate of novels describing life in Brisbane, unapologetically detailing real streets and shops, parks and landmarks, in a way that allowed the reader to follow an imagined walking trail through the city. These novels resonated with locals, and invited tourists to envisage a liveable and vibrant Brisbane, whilst placing the city firmly on the broader ‘literary map’.
'A place where poetry could never occur'
Brisbane had been home to accomplished storytellers throughout its history, yet was rarely viewed as a hub of literary activity. David Malouf’s central character, Dante, in the seminal Brisbane novel Johnno (1975) states that soulless Brisbane is ‘A place where poetry could never occur’. Amidst conservative political regimes, book bans and minimal arts funding, Brisbane writers struggled to succeed in the local market, choosing instead to embrace more ‘sophisticated’ cities with stronger publishing traditions. The success of Brisbane writers in the 1990s was described by anthologist Stuart Glover in 2002 as ‘one of the most significant signposts of a developing intellectual and cultural life’.
Big business
In 1988, as a new political age dawned in Queensland and the nation’s bicentenary was being feted with large scale public programs, Brisbane played host to the World Exposition. The phenomenal commercial and creative success of Expo ’88 stimulated support for the arts. Simultaneous changes in the publishing industry meant books and writing were becoming ‘big business’. Sales became increasingly dependent on media coverage and the profile of the author. Brisbane was ready for this trend when it arrived, and the 1990s saw an explosion of literary events in bookstores, coffee shops and night clubs. Book readings and launches began to attract a mix of people, outside of the traditional audience of academics and writers. Online writing communities also made the world smaller, meaning writers and readers could be in contact with wider influences without necessarily travelling.
Brisbane Writers Festival
Within this enthusiastic space, the Brisbane Writers Festival (BWF) grew in scope and influence. Its previous incarnations, most successfully as a Writers Week within Brisbane’s Warana Festival, had mainly been for writers themselves. By 1996, when the Festival relaunched as an independent event, it included a diverse program of public events. The festival has played an ongoing role in what Cori Stewart called in 2009 ‘socio-political debate over the meaning and cultural significance of the city, its history and its literature’. The festival, in conjunction with the establishment of peak body the Queensland Writers Centre (1990), was instrumental in altering perceptions of Brisbane as culturally remote in literary terms.
Albert Street Literary Trail
So, while Brisbane was imprinting itself on the broader ‘literary map’, this flurry of literary activity was fuelling other kinds of mapping; both literal and imagined. The Albert Street Literary Trail was launched at the 1996 BWF. It is a series of 32 plaques featuring quotes about Brisbane by authors who have called Brisbane home. Running the length of Albert Street, in the heart of the CBD, it symbolically brings writers in from the margins. The Trail highlights the ways in which Brisbane has been represented in text; and such representations are not passively received by readers. The words evoke a landscape which either resonates with locals or draws a picture of an unknown city for wider readers. The Trail spans 100 years of Brisbane narrative: Francis Adams (1890) describes the ‘blue winding river’, whilst Andrew McGahan (1995) illustrates Brisbane through the ‘glow of orange street lights’.
Urban Brisbane
McGahan’s descriptions of urban Brisbane are typical of the realist style of writing that came to the fore in the 1990s with a trend towards stories of the small details of modem life, exemplified by internationally popular texts like Seinfeld or Bridget Jones’ Diary. These Brisbane novelists were conjuring mental maps of the city by virtue of detailing the shopping, dining and work habits of their unspectacular protagonists. However, this was not New York or London, and local readers were thrilled.
Zigzag Street
The events in Nick Earls’ Zigzag Street, for example, which was also launched at the 1996 BWF, take place around Brisbane’s inner west - Red Hill, Paddington and Milton. Local references are frequent and specific:
‘At around two o'clock I walk up to Wee Willie Winkie's on Waterworks Road […] and I buy a packet of Tim Tams. I stand outside the store eating them and watching the occasional cars speed past, heading out of town and down the hill into Ashgrove’
Many Brisbane readers felt a strong affinity with this local yarn: there was a rush of new diners at the lead character’s favourite restaurant on Park Road, Milton, a street which itself was enlivened in the 1990s as café culture infiltrated the city. For outside readers, modern Brisbane was being textually created by these books. Curious tourists came to take photos of the real Zig Zag Street. The Nick Earls fan site Sunny Garden responded to this by creating a series of virtual tours, matching pictures of Brisbane streets with lines from Earls’ novels (http://www.nickearls.com/tour.html).
Words to walk by
There are signs that Brisbane has come a long way in embracing its writing community. In 2002 Earls was chosen as the face of the city in a campaign for Brisbane tourism; a privilege more often reserved for media personalities than authors. The 2005 text Words to Walk By maps out a series of walking ‘tracks’ that take readers through key sites of interest in Brisbane literary history. The ‘unlovely’ Brisbane memorialised by writers like David Malouf is, importantly, referenced in these walks, however tracks with titles like ‘At the bar with Nick Earls’ demonstrate a vital contemporary Brisbane, where writers no longer look elsewhere for approval.
References and Further reading (Note):
Todd Barr and Rodney Sullivan, Words to walk by: exploring literary Brisbane, St Lucia, UQP, 2005
References and Further reading (Note):
Robyn Sheahan-Bright and Stuart Glover (eds) Hot iron corrugated sky: 100 years of Queensland writing, St Lucia, UQP, 2002
References and Further reading (Note):
Cori Stewart, ‘The culture of contemporary writers' festivals’, Doctoral thesis, Queensland University of Technology, 2009
References and Further reading (Note):
Lara Cain, 'Hitting home: Nick Earls' Brisbane and the creation of the celebrity author', Queensland review, 12/1, 2005
There was a time when I, like a lot of other people, didn't appreciate Brisbane. It took me a while to work out that in terms of fiction Brisbane has a lot to offer. It's a great place to live, it has the colour and the characters and it's really coming into its own as a literary place to live. I love it here and I think that comes through in Zigzag Street.
Nick Earls, 1996
From Francis Whiting, ‘Fact makes great fiction’, Sunday Mail, 8 September 1996, p 21
Brisbane is so sleepy, so slatternly, so sprawlingly unlovely! I have taken to wandering about after school looking for one simple object in it that might be romantic, or appalling even, but there is nothing. It is simply the most ordinary place in the world.
David Malouf, Johnno, St Lucia, UQP, 1975, p 51
The glow in the sky. Orange streetlights. Outlying suburbs. It was beautiful. The highway turned onto the six-lane arterial. We came in through Oxley and Annerley, flowing with the traffic. Then the city high rises were in view, alight, multicoloured. Brisbane. It was impossibly beautiful.
Andrew McGahan, 1988, St Leonard’s, NSW, Allen and Unwin,1995, p 308