Monday, October 09, 2006
The Sound of Settling
H---- Garner, author of my lit text The Children's Bach came to school today. Preoccupied as I was with practice exams, practice exams and more practice exams, I nearly forgot about it; consequently I didn't know what to expect when I came tromping out of Homeroom and into lit class. I suppose if I had given more thought, I would have imagined a slightly snobbish, cranky old eccentric writer.
But then, if I had given it more thought, I would easily have come to the conclusion that the author of such a beautiful novel could never be herself anything but lovely. Oh, she really was! She's in her 60s but looks like she's in her early 50s. She's petite, dressed sensibly (plain, no-nonsense long brown coat, black pants and strange brown shoes), bespectacled. Nothing at all intimidating about her appearance, althought the sheer force of her intelligence hits you the moment you enter the room; this woman exudes intelligence. She's the kind you imagine chatting to for hours, talking about just really smart things. Oh, and not just intellectual things, you could talk to her about pop culture and she'll probably have things to say that would fill pages and pages and pages of notebooks (her daughter is an actress, and she has rock musician friends - but she didn't at all name drop, that was just background research on my lit teacher's part.)
Probably the most incredible thing about her is how down-to-earth she is, completely without any airs or irritating affectations. In fact she was a little nervous at first and gradually warmed up to us; she had a lovely sense of self-deprecating humour and the most glowing smile. Ms Garner obviously isn't used to adulation, blushing when we gave her a standing ovation. And she never, ever put anything we said down. She always listened attentively, was always open to our intepretations. She even brought her diaries from the 1980s, at the time when she was writing the novel, and read out little excerpts for us (whoa - we got a peek at the diary of one of Australia's contemporary classic novelists. Tell me that isn't giving you a literary orgasm!), shared her frustrations and fears about writing the novel. In short, novelists are humans too, no matter how bursting to the seams their brains are, they share the same fears and anxieties and neurotic tendencies that we plebians do.
Oh, isn't she lovely? (And aren't I a major boot-licker?) She's not going to ever read this, but...
Ms Garner, your novel has been bumped up to my second favourite novel of all time.
But then, if I had given it more thought, I would easily have come to the conclusion that the author of such a beautiful novel could never be herself anything but lovely. Oh, she really was! She's in her 60s but looks like she's in her early 50s. She's petite, dressed sensibly (plain, no-nonsense long brown coat, black pants and strange brown shoes), bespectacled. Nothing at all intimidating about her appearance, althought the sheer force of her intelligence hits you the moment you enter the room; this woman exudes intelligence. She's the kind you imagine chatting to for hours, talking about just really smart things. Oh, and not just intellectual things, you could talk to her about pop culture and she'll probably have things to say that would fill pages and pages and pages of notebooks (her daughter is an actress, and she has rock musician friends - but she didn't at all name drop, that was just background research on my lit teacher's part.)
Probably the most incredible thing about her is how down-to-earth she is, completely without any airs or irritating affectations. In fact she was a little nervous at first and gradually warmed up to us; she had a lovely sense of self-deprecating humour and the most glowing smile. Ms Garner obviously isn't used to adulation, blushing when we gave her a standing ovation. And she never, ever put anything we said down. She always listened attentively, was always open to our intepretations. She even brought her diaries from the 1980s, at the time when she was writing the novel, and read out little excerpts for us (whoa - we got a peek at the diary of one of Australia's contemporary classic novelists. Tell me that isn't giving you a literary orgasm!), shared her frustrations and fears about writing the novel. In short, novelists are humans too, no matter how bursting to the seams their brains are, they share the same fears and anxieties and neurotic tendencies that we plebians do.
Oh, isn't she lovely? (And aren't I a major boot-licker?) She's not going to ever read this, but...
Ms Garner, your novel has been bumped up to my second favourite novel of all time.
# posted by me lah @ 10:25 pm 
