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- GenresFiction
493 pages, Paperback
Published January 1, 1997
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July 12, 2021
Book review George Papelinas No
12/7/21
3.5 stars
Around 23 years ago, I did a creative writing course in my Lit major undergrad arts degree with George Papaellinas. I’d bombed engineering, and my plan B - Philosophy was too hard, full stop, and apparently impossible to make a living from. My philosophy tutor was bisexual and took an interest in me out of Eros. I guess feeding his interest without delivering on the sexual component was enough to get a pass, but not enough to get me grades that would allow me to be a philosophy major (double), and go into honours.
George also was bisexual. After sharing another of my short pieces in class, which included a series of riffs on other participants works woven into the narrative, George awarded me the title of ‘most intriguing’ writer in the class. I wasn’t really bothered by the resentment I saw (at least in one young man’s eyes). I have to admit, it was a boost to my ego. George, unlike my philosophy tutor, never made a move on me, but I had to suspect that like the other tutor (who was upfront about it), there was some element of Eros in George’s compliment. My old mum’s diary of parables suggested to me long ago that flatterers are like wolves.
I think I was a competent, and intriguing, writer. I can see how George might interpret my piece as the most intertextual with the other wannabees in the class.
But I really didn’t grasp then just how hard it is to write one’s story. Several other members of the class referred to George’s work NO, during that class, and I had to admit I hadn’t read it. ‘Any Guru will do’? I really hadn’t done my due diligence, and the commentary included the idea that it was just basic respect to read some of the work of your teacher. I did go straight out and read some of his short stories from the Ikons collection, at least one of which is pretty much an excerpt from NO; a story about going out in a row boat as a child, with his parents and being caught off guard by the tide, then attacked by a swarm of biting insects on the way back to shore, after dark.
I did enjoy that story, and promised myself I would read NO one day. NO was at the time, George’s new, critically acclaimed work, for which he won the job teaching creative writing at Melbourne University. And now, fortune has spared me lying to myself, for I have lived long enough to read it.
And suddenly, all those conversations 23 years ago come back to me, and make sense. The main character Lucky was pretty unpleasant. No, he wasn’t George (the author), and George does speak – it would be hard to teach creative writing if he didn’t. He isn’t tattooed. The violence was more a riff on the film Romper Stomper – a kind of reversal, which was all the rage at that time. George was actually quite likable in person. Lucky/Laki’s silence was more a representation of George finally finding his own voice.
His use of repetition and vernacular really is quite engaging and enjoyable to read. The Greek community didn’t really like it at the time, for its negative portrayal of the Greek community in the final part of the book. For some in our writing class, the end was unsatisfying – there was no resolution, no redemption, no reconciliation. But George defended his work on the grounds that it was authentic – he asked his inquisitors – do you think, from what you’ve read of the depicted ‘traditional’ Greek family, that they could ever have accepted Laki back into the fold, given what he’d done, what he’d become – sexually, criminally, and having tattooed his face (and whole body)? The honest answer for the time was no. My peers quipped much of the crime must also have been fictional, for George to be permitted to teach a university course. George affirmed this demurely.
I suppose George was teaching us mostly by example. His enthusiasm was inspiring and he read to us some passages from one of my favourite Australian novels at the time – Eric Dando’s Snail, which indicated George was on the same page as me. He illustrated the importance of a poetic lilt even in prose novels. And he was willing to expose his own vulnerabilities, by talking about a part of the novel in which he depicted Lucky’s elder sister (transparently modelled on his own sister) in quite an unflattering light, and the real world repercussions from that on his family relationships, already strained by his sexuality.
Some readers wondered why, if Lucky was so failed by the Labour politics of the time, George spent so much time exploring that. George’s defence was that it was an essential part of the narrative, and necessary for the final plot point to have the meaning he intended, which is true, and also necessary to place his father’s war time ‘communism’ before his later role as a Labour party wannabee king maker. “It was ‘Fuck the left’ and ‘Fuck the right’, that’s what I wanted it to be.” (to paraphrase him).
George said his publishers wanted him to change the title, to something a little less negative, but he refused, and stood by his guns.
I’ve never given up on writing my own book, but I see now how naïve my expectation that a book contract was right around the corner in my early 20’s. For some people that is the way it turns out. Not for me, but I keep working away, and found some inspiration and context in finally reading this work.
12/7/21
3.5 stars
Around 23 years ago, I did a creative writing course in my Lit major undergrad arts degree with George Papaellinas. I’d bombed engineering, and my plan B - Philosophy was too hard, full stop, and apparently impossible to make a living from. My philosophy tutor was bisexual and took an interest in me out of Eros. I guess feeding his interest without delivering on the sexual component was enough to get a pass, but not enough to get me grades that would allow me to be a philosophy major (double), and go into honours.
George also was bisexual. After sharing another of my short pieces in class, which included a series of riffs on other participants works woven into the narrative, George awarded me the title of ‘most intriguing’ writer in the class. I wasn’t really bothered by the resentment I saw (at least in one young man’s eyes). I have to admit, it was a boost to my ego. George, unlike my philosophy tutor, never made a move on me, but I had to suspect that like the other tutor (who was upfront about it), there was some element of Eros in George’s compliment. My old mum’s diary of parables suggested to me long ago that flatterers are like wolves.
I think I was a competent, and intriguing, writer. I can see how George might interpret my piece as the most intertextual with the other wannabees in the class.
But I really didn’t grasp then just how hard it is to write one’s story. Several other members of the class referred to George’s work NO, during that class, and I had to admit I hadn’t read it. ‘Any Guru will do’? I really hadn’t done my due diligence, and the commentary included the idea that it was just basic respect to read some of the work of your teacher. I did go straight out and read some of his short stories from the Ikons collection, at least one of which is pretty much an excerpt from NO; a story about going out in a row boat as a child, with his parents and being caught off guard by the tide, then attacked by a swarm of biting insects on the way back to shore, after dark.
I did enjoy that story, and promised myself I would read NO one day. NO was at the time, George’s new, critically acclaimed work, for which he won the job teaching creative writing at Melbourne University. And now, fortune has spared me lying to myself, for I have lived long enough to read it.
And suddenly, all those conversations 23 years ago come back to me, and make sense. The main character Lucky was pretty unpleasant. No, he wasn’t George (the author), and George does speak – it would be hard to teach creative writing if he didn’t. He isn’t tattooed. The violence was more a riff on the film Romper Stomper – a kind of reversal, which was all the rage at that time. George was actually quite likable in person. Lucky/Laki’s silence was more a representation of George finally finding his own voice.
His use of repetition and vernacular really is quite engaging and enjoyable to read. The Greek community didn’t really like it at the time, for its negative portrayal of the Greek community in the final part of the book. For some in our writing class, the end was unsatisfying – there was no resolution, no redemption, no reconciliation. But George defended his work on the grounds that it was authentic – he asked his inquisitors – do you think, from what you’ve read of the depicted ‘traditional’ Greek family, that they could ever have accepted Laki back into the fold, given what he’d done, what he’d become – sexually, criminally, and having tattooed his face (and whole body)? The honest answer for the time was no. My peers quipped much of the crime must also have been fictional, for George to be permitted to teach a university course. George affirmed this demurely.
I suppose George was teaching us mostly by example. His enthusiasm was inspiring and he read to us some passages from one of my favourite Australian novels at the time – Eric Dando’s Snail, which indicated George was on the same page as me. He illustrated the importance of a poetic lilt even in prose novels. And he was willing to expose his own vulnerabilities, by talking about a part of the novel in which he depicted Lucky’s elder sister (transparently modelled on his own sister) in quite an unflattering light, and the real world repercussions from that on his family relationships, already strained by his sexuality.
Some readers wondered why, if Lucky was so failed by the Labour politics of the time, George spent so much time exploring that. George’s defence was that it was an essential part of the narrative, and necessary for the final plot point to have the meaning he intended, which is true, and also necessary to place his father’s war time ‘communism’ before his later role as a Labour party wannabee king maker. “It was ‘Fuck the left’ and ‘Fuck the right’, that’s what I wanted it to be.” (to paraphrase him).
George said his publishers wanted him to change the title, to something a little less negative, but he refused, and stood by his guns.
I’ve never given up on writing my own book, but I see now how naïve my expectation that a book contract was right around the corner in my early 20’s. For some people that is the way it turns out. Not for me, but I keep working away, and found some inspiration and context in finally reading this work.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Displaying 1 of 1 review