Among the Trees

Inga Simpson has, with her latest work A Life with Trees, given us a poignant story of the constant tension between the dreams and desires we humans try to impose on "our" land, and the drives and needs of the manifold occupants - plant and animal - that were in and on that land before us, or that have arrived from elsewhere to enjoy the side-effects our decisions and actions have wrought upon that land.

Within its pages there is a resonance with my own life amid tree and pasture, and the attachment I formed to the landscapes within which I lived, and, at times, made my living.  Like her, I have moved more than once, and cleared and planted, trying to add my dreams and desires to the existing ecology, and like her I have had to compromise between dreams and the counter forces of nature and economics.

I have been enchanted by the grandeur of a place, and by the miniscule wonder and beauty that reveal themselves to the quiet traveller or sojourner.  The first view of any landscape, large or small, always contains more than the observer can take in.  We think we see it all, but our brain, as it usually does when confronted with large amounts of information via the senses, filters and simplifies - bringing to our consciousness the "big picture" first, and then the more easily identifiable aspects, with an emphasis on things about which we already have some knowledge.

Another view, in different light, weather, or season, and different aspects are highlighted - the big picture changes shape and gains texture.  Finer details begin to come to our notice, until we make that all too common mistake and think we know all about the place, and fully understand it.

Then the light changes again, or the temperature, or rain falls, or fails to fall when expected - and the view changes again as we notice previously overlooked details.  Carefuly nurtured plants die of drought, drowning, or unseen disease, while self-sown seedlings that weren't obvious only weeks before are suddenly flourishing.  Perhaps they were there all along, rendered invisible by our ignorance, or even misidentified as weeds.

Mature trees that somehow escaped notice for years, even as we lamented the absence of that species, appear under our nose (or over our heads), and supposedly rare and endangered ground orchids suddenly, and briefly, carpet a ridge top in flowers - no matter how long we dwell in a place, it can always surprise us.  And so we add to our knowledge of place, and as the surprise fades, we again grow smug about our understanding - until the next new discovery.

The store of knowledge contained in Indigenous lore is astounding, but should not surprise - there have been many millenia of gathering knowledge, arranging it, piecing it together, and passing it on for future generations.  The Australian First Peoples have been living with this place for so long that they have seen it change as the most recent glaciation cooled the planet and lowered the oceans, and they have seen it change back as the planet warmed.

They have seen old homes and fishing spots drowned by the rising oceans, and adapted as deserts grew, and forests moved and changed - all the while adding their observations and understanding to the songs that hold their memory.  Now they are seeing it change again, as human technological ability and desire for dominance once more overtakes human understanding and ethics.

A lifetime cannot be enough for a complete understanding of a place, an ecology - be it a forest, as in Inga's case, or a shore, or a marsh.  When trees can live for centuries, even passing a millenia or more in the sun and the wind, how can one person ever fully understand a forest?  But that person can live in the forest, and learn its rhythms, and love it -though those people who choose such a path are ever more often finding themselves at odds with that other branch of humanity, who, for whatever reason, see in a forest only a short term picture comprised of dollar gains and dollar costs.

Humans are creatures of story, and it is story-tellers like Inga who help people see the view that they may not previously have noticed - to see the intricate, essential to all of us, life that, without such seeing, they could too easily trample underfoot, or consign to the blade of the bulldozer or the teeth of the chainsaw.

Understory tells of that tension between the needs imposed by "economics" and "society", and the needs of life itself - the constantly growing, moving web that makes our world liveable and beautiful, and without which no amount of money or economic growth would be of any use to the human race at all.  It is a story that has been told in other forms, about other places, by so many people - it needs constant re-telling, for all our sakes.

Volunteer Editors (and Worse)

Who are these people who take to library books with pen or pencil, correcting, underlining, or crossing out perceived errors?

What is the point?  Do they think that they are the only reader whose eyes and mind will detect the mistake?  Really!  Anyone who chooses to read the book they have seen the need to correct will either consciously notice the mistake, or auto-correct it as their eyes race across the paragraphs.  What monstrous ego compels an otherwise well mannered library patron to so needlessly deface a book? 

What if the "error" is not a mistake, but a deliberate choice of word by the author that was intended to convey some special meaning in a poetic way?  What if it is poetry, and has confounded the literal minded volunteer editor.  What would such an editor have done with the works of Shakespeare?  Would any copy of the works of Lewis Carroll remained unmarked by such enthusiasts?

As library staff and patrons know, these pen wielding pedants make more murk than clarity.  They should annotate and sign for every correction, on a flyleaf or insert, so the rest of us can gloat if their correction turns out be incorrect. They should allow for the likelyhood that other readers who pick up this book after their pen has made its mark will share (or even surpass) the volunteer editor's facility with words, and refrain from such petty, pedantic scratchings.

Sure, if it is an "early reader" that is meant to teach a small child the correct spelling, use, and meaning of words, by all means show the book to the librarian at the circulation desk when returning it.  Perhaps you can write a letter to the publisher or author setting out the mistake, but for those books aimed at literate, experienced readers, please stay your hand and set down your pen.  If knowing the "error" is there is keeping you awake at night, please show it (un-annotated) to the librarian.

But as annoying as the volunteer editor can be to librarians and patrons, there is someone who will be consigned to a deeper circle of library hell, and that is the self appointed censor.

When all the books on a sensitive topic suddenly vanish, are defaced, or are found kicked under the bottom shelf, the librarian knows someone's cherished beliefs or opinions have been wounded.  The librarians care, they really do, and it is possible that the books in question may offend the librarians, too - but modern public libraries commit to free and open circulation of books and information, and to not censoring publicly available information - despite the fact that more than a few of the books that are officially catalogued as non fiction really deserve to be put on the paperback fiction shelves, with a "Fantasy" genre sticker on the spine.

To those few who feel they have the right to censor our public libraries collection, please have a polite chat with the librarian - there is a policy they must follow to determine if the book should in fact be on the shelf.  If the policy does not give you the result you seek, please take it up with the author and publisher - perhaps a word from you could set the author on the right path after all.  Just don't take it out on your public library.

Public libraries are, after all, one of the pillars of a free and democratic society - if you doubt that, then ask the librarian to direct you to the shelves containing books on politics, society, and history. 

Spend a few weeks or months reading deeply on the subject and you will soon find out what sort of society results when the censors move in and the books are destroyed or burned.

Goodbye Girlie

If you have in your family people over the age of 80 years, and wonder what planet they were born on, then I can recommend this book as a window to their world, and as a way to understand where the Australia you are living in now came from.  The world we occupy is very different from their world, and this book - written by a woman who was born less than a century ago - not only shows you that world, but shows you why so much of our world is as it is.

Patsy Adam-Smith's Goodbye Girlie is a wonderful memoir - the sequel to her memories of childhood that were published in Hear the Train Blow.

It is too easy for people to paint a picture of a golden age in Australia's past - an age that really only shone for people in the upper levels of society.  The minority who lived well before and between the world wars were some of the men, and a handful of women - for the rest, life was somewhere between tough and abyssmal.  Patsy enlisted as a nurse's aid and did so to escape the boredom, poverty, and repression - social, economic, and religious - that was the life of a woman in so much of Australia.  Many other women did so for the same reasons, and more than a few of the men who enlisted also saw a brighter future for themselves if they could get into uniform and out of the grinding life allowed to "the lower classes" - if you are over 60 then you grew up listening to and interacting with older relatives who had lived that sort of life. If you are under 30, these books are an opportunity to hear stories that are otherwise being forgotten, and lost to posterity.

Such harsh conditions still exist in pockets of Australia, even today - and as for the wider world, well, I am truly glad that Australia is where I live.  Perfect we are not, but when you let Patsy's stories wash over you, you understand just how fortunate a country we are.  When you have time to sit and read for a few hours, I can recommend any of her books, just as I can recommend Ion Idriess, for anyone wanting to understand those times that were not really so long ago.