A Delicate Business David Malouf's Shorter Prose

8/12/2019 A Delicate Business David Malouf's Shorter Prose

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"A Delicate Business": David Malouf's Shorter ProseAuthor(s): Paul SharradSource: World Literature Today, Vol. 74, No. 4, David Malouf: 16th Laureate of the NeustadtInternational Prize for Literature (Autumn, 2000), pp. 759-768Published by: Board of Regents of the University of OklahomaStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/40156081.

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S I IbelkccteKiinafDAVID MALOUFfS SHORTER PROSEPAUL SHARRAD

Style is something that slips away fromyou, likea wet melon seed."So sayswriter-scholarChrisWallace-Crabbe,as he goes on to confirm he many descriptionsof David Malouf as Australia'sleading producerof"poeticprose."In doing so, he observesthe tendencytosmall-scaleworksof polished "Vermeerish" etail. Thisis admitted(if we allow for the mix of autobiographyandfictivenarrator)n the finalstoryof Antipodes'.

I was remindedof somethingI had seen once fromthewin-dow of a railwaycarriageas my trainsat steamingon theline: three old men- tramps heymighthave been- in aluminoushuddle behindthe glassof a waiting-shed, heirgreyheads aureoledwith fog andthe closedspace aglowwith theirbreathing ike ajarfull of fireflies.Thevisionhauntedme. Itwas entirelyreal- I mean the trampswererealenough, you mighthave smelled themif you'd gotclose- but the way I had seenthemchangedthatreality,made me so impressionably ware thatI couldrecalldetailsI could not possiblyhave seen at that distanceor with thenakedeye;the greenish-grey f one old man'shair whereitfell in locks over his shoulder, he grimeof a handbringingout all its wrinkles, he ringof dirtrounda shirt collar.(159)

Despitethis awarenessof his gift,Malouf has (possiblyunderthe influence of PatrickWhite)pushed himselftoward the long novel and "big"national themesofAustralianhistory(Craven).Evocative magery s stillproducedin showing a personal experiencingof keymoments n white Australian egend,but the legendsthemselves WorldWarI in FlyAwayPeter, ts succes-sor in TheGreatWorld,he bush as artist'sretreat n Har-land'sHalfAcre, he returnof the white man gone nativein Remembering abylon,he convict and bushrangermythos in TheConversationst CurlowCreek pushhim, literally, into a more prosaic expansiveness.

WhereasAn Imaginary ife ound a powerfullyimagina-tive vehicle fordealingwith elementsof this nationalset of preoccupations, uccessiveworksmightbe seenas becomingincreasinglyprogrammatic. t is perhaps nthe shorterprosethat the realexperimentand thedirectnessof ideas canbe found - where the "poetry"morepowerfullyresiststhe entrapmentsof what PeterPiercehas calledthe "manneredplainness"of Malouf'sprose (Pierce,187).

Writingabouthis manyventuresas librettist oroperas,Maloufcomments,"If . . textworkstoo well, atthe verbal or dramatic evel, it will leavenothingforthemusic to do."Thismight equallyapplyto his own fic-tion, especiallythe shorterwork,which relies foritsimpact on musical qualities such as rhythmandcadenceand the modulationof evocativemotifs.Hedescribesthe collaborationbetween composerandlibrettistas "adelicatebusiness"(SMH,8), and again,we can considerhis fictiveart as seekinga similarkindof balancebetweenbusinesslikecraftand tonaldelica-cy. Thebriefbut ratheruncertain andcontroversial)return o the "poetic" reatmentof the past in Remem-beringBabylonhowed the tension between his twomodes of fictionwriting.On the one hand,the poeticsymbols generatedstrong yet discreteclustersof mean-ing thatpreventedthe narrative rompulling togethera sustained vision; on the other (moreapparent n alongerwork such as TheGreatWorld),xtension ntonarrativeenactedthe writer'sown critiqueof libretto:the text becametoo full of words for the music to shinethrough.For the critics(notably he acerbicGermaineGreer), his lackof cohesion,coupledwith the repeti-tion of types and ideas alreadyfamiliar o Australian

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readers,suggesteda loss of inspirationor a conserva-tive resurrection f the mythsof the colonial white past.Maloufs shorter iction,being more inclinedtoward thetellingimagethantowarddiscursiveness, s able more

consistently o tap intohis creativestrengthsandto providenew insightsinto old experiences.This is not to say thatthe shorter iction s total-ly distinct from Maloufsnovels. The most recentstorycollection,DreamStuff, orexample,contin-ues the writer'sengage-mentwith the wartimeperiodof his adolescencefirst seen in Johnno.Herewe find a tale of a boy'sfantasizing about his

missingfather,soldieringoverseas.His mother attractsa jovialyoung American erviceman o the house, andtheboy graduallywakens to present realityand theadultworld. Otherstories have the war as a less centralelement,but it recurs n mentionof a father ost in thebattleson Crete("DreamStuff"),of harassmentofyoung soldierspreparing or the KoreanWar("NightTraining"), nd of the pathosin providingcompanion-ship for soldierson R&R romVietnam "Sally'sStory").Unlikehis longerfiction,however,there is no attemptin the stories to explorenationalmyth,and the light-ness of touchin sketchingpersonal"dream tuff" smoresatisfying.War serves as a powerfulinstanceofthosemomentsof defining challengewhen the extraor-dinarywe dreamof intrudesupon ordinaryexistenceandthe two differentexperienceshave somehow to beaccommodated Dream tuff,64).The moment of contactbetweendifferentorders ofexperience s imbuedwith mystery.Apartfrom the spe-cificmysteryplots of works such as Child'sPlay, here sthe mysteryof what makespeople tick (theirOedipalinheritances,he fascinationof people absorbed n atask or lost in sleep, the puzzle of why a fathercannotinspire goodwillbut his son can).There s the mysteryof our connection o the naturalworld andthe wonderor fear t canengender n some of us, the mysteryofhow languageworks,of how some of us find intuitivebalance n aworld that others force nto solid blocks ofunfeelingcertitude.Forthewriter,creativity tself stemsfrommystery:"Ithink most people who arewriting

Maloufs shorter fiction,being more inclined towardthe telling image thantoward discursiveness,is able more consistentlyto tap into his creativestrengths and to providenew insights into oldexperiences.

seriously, write because there is something they don'tyet understand which they want to find out about"(Tipping,41).Whether t is in a local"folk"museum("GreatDay"in DreamStuff)or the Museum of the Holocaust("InTrust,"Antipodes),ne of the greatwondersconfrontingMalouf s the transfiguration ffectedby thepassageoftime.Objectspass througha succession of handsandon back to a condition of simultaneous oss, preserva-tion,and alteration,

... as if the substance .. - a denseness that hadpre-vented us fromlookingforwardor too farback- hadcleared at last. We see these objectsand ourselvesas co-existent, n theverymomentof theirfirststeppingout intotheir own beingand in everyinstantnow of their ong pil-grimage owardsus, in whichtheyhavegathered hefin-gerprintsof their mostcasualusersandthe ghostlybut stillpowerful presenceof the lives they served.

. . . We stareandare amazed.Weretheyonce,we askourselves,as undistinguishedas thebuttons on ourjacketor a stickof roll-ondeodorant?Our own utensilsandarte-facts take on significance ora moment n the lightof thefuture.Smallcoinsglow in ourpockets.Ourworld tooseemsvividly, unbearablypresent,yet mysteriously aroff.(Antipodes,124)

At his best, Malouf suggests these ideas throughimages:the gesture that will convey a potential formeaningfulness,the sound that will encapsulatethatmoment- a piano chordto hold our attention,thethudof a discardednecklace hatwill signifylife'sbaldfactualitybefore the onset of silence(Antipodes,7).He also workswith effects of light andlandscape,poised like his surferandphotographern Fly AwayPeterbetween the minimalistlightnessof FredWilliams'scanvases of sparselytree-dottedhillsidesandthe Goth-ic darknessof ArthurBoyd'smoreviolentlydramaticpaintings.In the impressionisticvignetteof "AMedi-um,"the closing piece in Antipodes,tself summoned,we feel, almost unbidden from the past, the writerteeterstowardsentimentality hatis justheld in checkby thenarrating elf-awareness,and achievesanAnti-podean moment of symbolist resonanceworthy ofMansfieldandWoolf

There s no story,no set of events that eadsanywhereorproves anything- no middle, no end. Justa glimpsethrougha half-opendoor,voices seen notheard,vibrationssensedthrougha wall while the trainedearstrains,not tohear what is passingin thenextroom,but to measure hechords precise, ixed,nameableas diminished ifths orNeapolitansixths,but also atmomentsapproachingears

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thatarebeing truck utonan ron-framedpright;nd hevoice hatnames hemyourown. 160)There s oftena mysticalsense of flowing out intolife, as well as a countersenseof being invadedby it. In

Antipodest arises fromstargazing "Southern kies")/on the one hand, and,on the other,from the visitationof memory and a sense of the country'shomeless,alienatedyouth ("TheEmptyLunch-Tin"),r suddenpoliticalviolenceat a Mediterranean olidayresort("AChangeof Scene"). n DreamStuff t appearsas a drunk-en muggingand interrogation "DreamStuff")and thehijackingmurderof a retiredcouple travelingAustralia("LonePine").Bothaspectsof transformation re neces-saryfor characterso bringthe disparatepointsof theirlife into focus as constellations upplyingmeaninganddirection. t is the artof the stories to presentthese con-stellationsas shiftingand delicatelyconnected ntima-tionsrather hanas fixed symbols.MaryanneDeverusefully points out in this regardhow loss (lost child-hood, lost parents, ost loves, lost pasts) can be bothdebilitatingandthe catalyst or creation.ChrisWallace-Crabbe, owever,finds "somethingalittlepuddingy" n David Malouf s latestcollection,andattributest to the numberof publictalksa successfulwriter s forced nto in this world of "marketing rod-uct."Becominga nationaltreasurecan confera certainponderoussubstance, suppose,but moreprobably thashelpedmove Malouf'srecentwritingtowardessays,stories,and sketchesand away from extendednovels.Thisis not a bad thingif it has allowed him to maintainhis facilitywith the evocative mageandthe lyricalca-dencethatcharacterized is early "poetic" tyle, if itpreserves hatdelicacywhichIhabHassannicely phrasesas attending o "whispersof hiddenbeing"(Hassan,39).Inrecentyearsin Australia, he essay has come backinto literaryprominence.Oncetaught in high schoolsand published in newspapers,this form was pushedaside by "real" iterature,by media panderingto thetabloidreader,andby government ntoleranceof publicdissent.A combinationof the theoretical ritiqueof cat-egoriessuch as "literature," autobiography,"nd "his-tory"andconcernover the decline of "thepublicintel-lectual"has prompted magazine prizes for essays,experiments n "ficto-criticism,"nd anthologiesof es-says.Malouf,as a formeracademic,has alwaysbeenprepared o intellectualizeabout his artandhas givenradio talksand interviewsthathave fed back into hiswork.12 Edmondstonetreet s one expressionof this,but also marksa progressivefusion of genres other-

wise found in RobertDessaix's NightLettersor KateLlewellyn'swriting.There s somethingof this in thewriter'sself-mockingconfession n an early storyofproducingan "anthropology f prowlers" Child's lay,201)- which is also a confessionfound in other works(suchas "ATraveller'sTale" n Antipodesr "Jacko'sReach" n DreamStuff) of producingcommentarieson the nature of writing.Malouf talks aboutthe "comfortable"nd "safe"pleasuresof following a numberof perspectivesacrossseveral"worlds" n extendedfiction.Bothnovels andshort storiesemerge unplannedfromoriginsin "atmo-sphere . . . textureand landscapeand the feel it willhave."Butthe shortstoryhas a particularpleasure nthat"youknow you canwrite the first draft n a coupleof days, and thenyou've got this nice little thingto pol-ish"(L. Smith).Polishingthe artefact/story, however,does not meanturning t into a perfect,self-enclosedunit;there is an energyrelatedto leavingthingsunsaidand events unresolved.Maloufdeclareshimselfhappywith loose ends and evocativemystery,with workingthrough impressions, "correspondences,analogies,metaphorsrather hanplot,"but is also drivenby thedesire to understand,to see the shape of something(Kavanagh, 47-48,251).Thestories enactthis dynamicof lettingthe muddle andmysteryin a situationexpressitselfwhile moving theirelements towardsome appre-hension of an underlyingpatternwithoutwhich the sit-uation would remainconfusingor simplybanal.One key pattern n Maloufs writingnotedby Devershows age redirectedthroughchildhood to achieveanew wholeness of being,while youth is led into a widerawarenessof theworld.As with theconnectionbetweenJimSaddlerand ImogenHarcourt FlyAwayPeter) rthe boy and Ovid (AnImaginary ife), ransformationoccurs out of a contemplative activity borderingonmystical awe - bird-watchingor staring at prairieflowers.In Rememberingabylon eekeeping eads to lifein a convent as well as to scientificarticles. t is Keats-iannegativecapabilityplus Wordsworthianmmersionin the naturalworld with a corrective ouch of Blake-like vision (Kavanagh, 54).Butthe point is thatthis isshown to occur n modernand local termsas well asEuropeanand classicalones. In "Southern kies"wesee this dynamicdramatizedthroughstargazing roman Australianbackyard.An agingprofessor nductsayoung boy into sexual and mental awakening:hebecomes morethanhis erraticadolescentself-fascina-tion;he is "put... at the centreof an enlargedview"(Malouf,in Tipping, 41). Loss of childhood and an

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openingout into adultawarenessare held together na moment of grace.This transmutesin other circum-stances to a pure,sometimesterrifyingmoment of poisebeforechange:He felt too heavy to move. Therewas sucha swarming nhim.Everydropof blood in himwas pressing against hesurfaceof his skin- in his hands,his forearmswith their

gorgedveins,his belly, the calves of his legs,his feeton thestony ground.Everydropof it holdinghimby force ofgravity o where he stood,andmight go on standingtilldawn if he couldn'tpull himselfaway.Yet he hadno wishto stepon pastthismoment, o move awayfrom t intowhateverwas to come.

But the momenttoo was intolerable. fhe allowedit togo on any longerhe would be crushed.He launchedhimselfat the air andbrokethrough ntothe nextminutethatwas waitingto carryhim on. (DreamStuff, 115)

Inthese moments of suspension,we can detectMaloufsconstantpull towardepiphanyand the numinous. Hearguesfor retaininga sense of religion as a savinghumanfactorprovidingrealizationof continuity,andforconnectingwith the ritual,mythicbasis to behaviorbeneath socialnormality Tipping,43-45).This is theportentousend of the balancepole on his writer'shigh-wire act,the prosaicbeing at the other. Malouf s awareof the dangersin didactic or discursivewriting andfavorsa more dynamicvision and a more subjectivemeans of engaging our attention:"I think in the endthatpeople arechangednot by an argumentbut bybeingput into a situationthatrequiresan actof imagi-nationon theirpart,which changesthemby makingthemsee n a new way" (Tipping,41).A furtheraspectof this imaginativeshift is finding the language withwhich to express new perceptions:"Thethings thatcan'tbe named because we have not yet discoveredthelanguagefor them, though we know they are there.Theyarewhat provideourgrowingsense of the world"(Kavanagh, 59).In terms of Australianwriting,Maloufs fictionbal-ances the stolid materialityof social realismagainstthesolid portentousnessof White'ssymbolismand treadsadelicatepathbetween them(Copeland, 34).Dream tufftouches on this balancingactin "Jacko'sReach,"a med-itation on the significanceof what is lost and the reten-tive power of memorywhen the local council turnsawasteland nto a shoppingmall:

The ast uminous rains fafreer ndmoredemocraticspirit,hat hehusbandsndwivesofmy generationtillturn oindreams.. .It s this,allthis, hatwillgounderhebarsofneon ights

and the crowded shelvesandtrolleysof the supermarket,the wheels of skateboards,hebitumenwalksandsolid,poured-concreteamps.Jacko's, s we knewit, will enterat last intowhata centu-ry andmore has alreadyprepared t for,the dimensionsofthe symbolic.Which s of coursewhat it has alwaysbeen,thoughthe gritof it betweenyourbare toes andthe densityof its undergrowth,he untidymass of it against he eve-ning sky,fora long time obscured he fact. . .So it will be gone and it won'tbe. Likeeverythingelse.Under.

Where ts darknesswill neverquitebe dispelled,howevermany mushroom-lightshey install n theparking ot. . . .If there s only one wild acre somewherewe will makethattheplace.Ifthey take t awaywe will preserve t in ourhead.If there s no suchplacewe will inventit. That's heway we are.(99-100).

It is not hard to see here a parallel to the writer'sretelling of childhood spurredon by the fact that thefamily home at 12 EdmondstoneStreet is now a con-creteand cyclone-wire-enclosed ardforlight industry.

AlthoughMaloufrejects he word nostalgia s tooescapist (Kavanagh, 47),there s a confessionof thevaledictoryand the elegiacin this thatis at timesa cre-ative forceand at othersa debilitatingelementin Ma-loufs fiction. SuzanneKiernan ecognizesthis whenshe notes the importanceof memoryand the riskthat"literature f the backward ook"will be eitherdis-missed or championedas politicallyconservative or itsrelianceon "pathosrather hanethos"(Kiernan). t is,as the narrator f "Jacko'sReach" ays, people of hisgenerationand olderfor whom the Jacko'sReachesandthe under-the-house pacesof childhood,the legends ofcountrypioneering,or the losses of two warshave anymeaning.Fortoday'skids on skateboards, acko'sReachand Maloufs "classicallyEdwardian" ulturalupbringing L.Smith)no longerexist:the memory snot there.The one wild acre,when it is gone, is goneforgood. Sometimes t would be nice to find a less sen-timental,morepoliticallytoughstancein Maloufs sto-ries. He is right,however (butperhaps n away thisstorydoes not allow for),in that the next generationwill reinventthe urbanizedemptinessof poured-con-creterampsas theirown site of adventureandraffish-ness and conflictwith civicregulation.

SybilleSmithpointsout the "thematic onsistency"underlying he "formal ersatility" f Maloufs work-he calls t his obsessionsor "thekindof problems gobackandbackto"(Smith,83;Copeland,435).Ifwe con-siderthe most recent collection's ocus on dreamsandlook backat an early piece like "Eustace,"we canseehow this is the case. "Eustace"ells the storyof a

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teenage ntruder n the dor-mitoryof a girl's boardingschool. Malouf s good atconveyingthe inchoatenatureof adolescentdesiresandthe innocentcuriositythat eads inevitablytosome moment of decisivechange.

This was his real need here:that the situationshouldmake of him something hathe painfully ongedforandhadcomehere,all unwit-ting,to have revealed.Hehadno ideawhat it mightbe. He had simplyfollowedsome cluein himselfandarrived. .. It was asif hehad climbed into a highplaceof his own head wherehe could breatheat last,andconfronted t:a situa-tionthat had alwaysbeenthereandfromwhich hewas to forcenow the longwithheld revelation. 168)

Here,the young mechanicis "adopted"by the girls,who competeto makehimpartof their dreams.Aswith Gemmypoised on thefenceat the beginningofRememberingBabylon, heintruder s momentarilysuspended in a puremoment of encounterandpotential hatquicklybe-comescomplicated.Onepartof the mysteryof suchan occasionto which Ma-louf regularlyreturns s thefleetingtransformation fthe ordinary nto the magi-cal:a carrot-haired,anglygrease-monkey and abunch of giddy schoolgirls ogethergeneratean auraofenchant-mentthat demands o be preservedbutquicklysuccumbs o the everydayfrom which it is born. We seethejockeyingbetweenboy-strangerand girls,the girlsas a groupand the one who first "discovers" ndnames

Eustace,and the pressuresthat driveJaneand Eustaceto runaway together.Froman adultpoint of view, wecan see the violence and sexual drive threateningatthe edges of controlover innocentdreams(151),and(throughthe stuffy Miss Wilson, the composition




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teacher)we sense the potential for horror n goingbeyond the bounds of conventionality;but the storytakes us into the fascination of unshaped potentialinherent n breakingboundsand following dreams.

Along with the continuedworkingover of themes,though,Smith also notes Malouf's"range romfairlyconventionalnarrative o pieces thatare more likeessays andnotations" somethingthatbecomes clear-er as he overtlymoves into these forms of expression(S.Smith,83).In this respect,Malouf'sshortstories enacttheirown generic "hoveringat the threshold" eflectedwithin them in themes of transition fromEuropetoAustralia,youth to maturity,past to future.PeterPiercesupportssuch a view when he notes the blending ofseveralgenresin Rememberingabylon183-84), ndwecanperhaps ocatethe beginningsof this in the "dia-logue"that was alreadyoccurringbetweenessay andstory.While PeterCravenconsidersthat DreamStuff"doesnot sound like the work of an essayistwith lyri-calgifts of some grandeur,who makesgesturestowarda fictional action of which he can conceive but notembody," here is alwaysa tendency n Malouf towardthe idea.This canappeareitheras a questfor the con-ceptthat will fill out the image sparkinga story,or asthe foundationseekingsituationsand imagesto makeitdramatically isible to the reader.Thepull of intellectagainst mage (orat least theparallel orces of these two elements)as well as the the-matic inks acrossMaloufs prose outputcan be seen inthe factthat12 Edmondstonetreetappearsprettymuchat the sametime as Antipodesnd functions n partas agloss on the fiction.Its first word is "memory," nd itsfirstimage (pickedup in thebook'sillustrations) s a"colonial-style"Queensland imberbungalowon posts.Here is the pointerto Maloufs creativeresources: heimpressionisticdredgingof childhoodpasts (thespacesand objectsof the home, such as the "Brass ardiniere"[40-42],operating ike the mental roomsand markersofthe pre-Renaissancehetorician's rtof memory)andthe interest n how a colonial culturetransmogrifiesnsettlinginto a new climateand society (theairy"underhouse"and the verandahas a "border one,"an ambig-uous marker"thatyou arejust one step up from thenomads"[11/20]). These ideas are revisited in lateranalysisof the socialspaceof campingfamilies n "AtSchindler's" DreamStuff,8-9)and spelled out in Ma-louf'sessay "AFirstPlace,"where he speaksof the urgeto use suchprivate consto constructmyths by whichpeople can settle into a new culture.In the title memoir-meditationof 12 Edmondstonetreet,memory is also

shown to be a mysteriousphenomenonrelated o psy-chologicaldevelopmentand a dramaticpower or affec-tive "truth"beyond accuracyand rationalexplanation.Thus, t becomes the vital catalyst or artisticcreation,the interfacebetweenloss, reclamation, nd generation.Malouf'smemories of his Lebanesegrandfathertelling stories in a language meaningfulto the childonly as a kind of music (5)or the indecipherable"Chi-nese Dictionary"n Father'sworkshop(45)reflects heconstant nterest n languageandpossibilitiesof com-municatingbeyond its bounds (as in Ovid learningTomismeaningsandhow to teach learn fromthewolf-boy in An Imaginary ife; rJimSaddler's ascinationwith the "language" f birdsand migration n FlyAwayPeter; r the story"TheOnly Speakerof His Tongue" nAntipodes).n the location of the familyhome and theconcernof Malouf'sanglophilemotherforpreservingsocialniceties(33),we can also see the child'sand laterthe writer's ascinationwith the demimondeof differ-ence: "immigrants . . abos, swaggies and metho-drinkers" 8),"fallen"women who smokeand swear(15-16),plus prostitutesand small-timecrooks(as inUncleJake's"rake'sprogress"n "BadBlood" Antipodes]).Malouf couches these interests in the language ofFreudiancrisisand control,dreamand socialfacticity- what Peter Piercecalls the "terrors f severance . .andthe palliationsof memory" 186).Storiesandessayalike confess to traumasof exclusion(9,21)and fears ofintrusion.("OurBurglar" 26-27]reappearsas "TheProwler" n Child'sPlay,a catburglarand rapistin"ThatAnticJezebel" Antipodes],nd, in the most recentcollection,a jitterygunman n "LonePine"or a muggerin "DreamStuff.")Here the power of words providesconfessionalcomfortand sublimatoryorder.PaulKavanagh 257-58)notes the connection n this contextto a problematicof gender (very pre-liberation-era)nwhich women aremysteriousandmythicandboys arefascinatedby and ejected rom theirworld in the sameway thatnarration s founded on a constitutivesepara-tion from or recoveryof the past and childhood.Suchpsychologizingoften leaves the impressionofMalouf as conservativelyreconstructing n era of pre-sixties "oldpieties"(25)and reducingeverything o pri-vate obsessions(a sensory solipsism[53-54]memorablyand exaggeratedly dentifiedby GermaineGreer). nhismoreexpansivefiction,this maybe a shortcoming,butin the stories,such an approachcan lend the fleetingsubjectiveeffectsof atmosphereandemotionthe gener-alizing primalpower of myth.Inthe openingstoryofDreamStuff, orexample,a boy workingthrough he

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loss of his fatheroverseas n wartime,his own growingintoteenagemanhood,his friendshipwith a young GI,and his discoveryof the "primalscene'' between hismotherand the soldierwould have less impactif itwere not for the Freudiandrama nherent n the detail.Theschematicsubstructure,however, is saved fromponderoustritenessby two things:Malouf'sabilitytoconvey the modulationsof the processof bringingsomethingto consciousness,andhis fine detailingoftime and place (periodwords like lowboy nd localidioms such as pozzieabound;the morningheat of a"sleepout"n summerand the ritualsof a beach holi-day individualizethe generaldrama).WhenMilt,theenergeticyoung GI,talks of archeologyas "resurrect-ing" things through ogic and guesswork(11-12),wecan see the writer n a self-reflexivemomentthatis ofa piecewith the workingsof the narrative.Theboy issimilarlyputtingtogether hepiecesof his life andlearn-ing to see beyond them in accordancewith Malouf sown aims.

WhatI aminterested n is continuity,andthatmeans, f youaregoingto understand hepresentat all and see whatmightbe the patternsof your developing ife, thenyouneed to experience, eexperience,hepast,but thepastas itreallyalwayswas - as something mmediate, ull of mud-dle, containingn averyconfusedway all thethingsthatareto come. So when I recreatea moment n thepast,it is tomake t aspresent s possible,to establishcontinuity, oopenit up to the future. Kavanagh, 47)Theopennessintopossibilities s presented throughdeft use of leitmotivssuch as the boy'sbalanceat the

edge of a divingboard. Thisimpliesvariousaspectsofhis liminal/transitional ondition;Jack s practicing oemulatehis fatherand waitingfor the war to end so thepool will be refilled,he will be older,andhe can com-plete the dive. Thestory's progressbringsout the ideas.Malouf's nterest n the conceptualand the pattern hatwill give shapeto events can nonetheless ead to falsenotes at times. When the eleven-year-oldprotagoniststarts o theorize abouthis personalrelationships nterms of triangles 9, 15),we see the abstractunderpin-nings of his story obtrudingat the expenseof the senso-ry,bodily "logics"of youthfulperception.Freud over-rides the mythhis theoriespoint to;rigidshapessub-sume the mysterious"broken ontinuities" 9)of lifethatsupplythe power of the tale. Thewill to connectionandharmonycarries he narrativebeyondits dramaticand symbolicresolution,pointingto the downside ofMalouf's yricimpulse- a sentimentalism dentifiedby PeterCraven.

Thedynamiccoexistenceof intellectand impression,foundin the swing fromreflectionson the natureoftime (39)to a catalogueof the furniture n the frontroom(49), s held togetherby Malouf'smusicalprose.(Theessay mentions "the Piano Room" and AuntFrances,who gave lessons in "piano, iddle and man-doline"[32].)Thisbecomesquiteclear n the verballandscapepaintingof "InTuscany,"which records herhythmsof life andnature n an Italianvillage.Consid-er the varying lengthof sentenceandphrase n the fol-lowing passageand its carefulconstructionof rhythm:"InMay, great swarms of fireflies, in such brilliantdriftsthaton moonlessnights you can see your way bythem.Nightingales.And from the vineyardsthe regularboom of the automaticcannonthatare used to keepoffboar.Inpoorervineyards, sleepy childrenbeat sauce-pans,and all the way into the distance the dogs bark"(71).The writer moves from the flow of things andevents to reflection on them, connectingthe outsideworld of nature to his interiorwriting life and theprogressof a film shoot:

All this snow . . . was not providedfor when we began.Itwill obviouslybe a major actornow. I see it as a meta-phorfor the snowbound state of isolationI am in when Iamshutup herein the village,with no telephone,no car,absorbedn abook. It is as if I hadproduced t by magicora free act of the imagination, o makemy point.Anyway,wherever t has comefrom, t is now a factand will imposeits own conditions. .. So that s 'thescript'.OnlywhatIread can be fixed. (83)

There s not the same luxury of orderwhen thewriter travelsbeyond his familiarbounds to India.Controlswings to crisis,the anxietyof injectionsandcrowds,and the confusion of boundaries(the"promis-cuousness[of]teeming plenitude"[110]).Onlywhen abeggarboy providesinsightinto local "roles o playout . . . dignities ... a socialshape"(106) s the writercharmedand moved by the memoryto revisit. None-theless,althoughhis outlookis morepositive thanNaipaul'sfirstview of the subcontinent,Maloufworkson the same panoramiccataloguingof dress,people,activity,objects usingwords like nativeandprimitivewith a curiouslyold-fashioned nnocence).Therhythmis morefrenetic, he viewpoint objectivized,but the nar-rative effect is subjective ensory impact.Onlywhen aconnection o European ulture s made(viatheswastika)does the writer feel able to move brieflytoward intel-lectual abstraction 113-14),until at the end of descrip-tion there s an assessment of the meaningof it all forthe writerandhis ilk:"India s full of temptations or




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the westerner. ... To walk on blindly as if no needexisted,or as if all this were meretheatre, s to be in onemoralpredicament; o reactputs you immediately inanother.And of course to be concernedwith moralpredicamentat all is an indulgence, f all it involves isthe desire to be in the right" 118-19).All the writer sal-vages fromthe experience s a series of random magesand the disturbingknowledgethat even humangestureis not universal:he is excluded fromunderstanding(122).Thisisolatingrealizationof "thevast gap of dark-ness" which existsat the heart of difference andits cor-relationwith shifts to Europeand Asia) lies behindthevariouspolaritiesof the stories n Antipodes, lthoughthere s, in thatcollection,an accompanying nterest nthe groundbetween extremesand how it might beimaginativelycrossed.In the essays, the connection smorean awareness hatthe "darkgap"opens not onlybetweencountriesand cultures,butbetweenpresentandpast,childand adult,fearand desire. Its existentialstatusis signaledin the appearancen the concludingessay,"TheKyogleLine,"of "barriermoments"similarto those of the Indiantravel-memoir n Queenslandmemoriesof wartimetraintravel,JapanesePOWs,andGrandfather's istoryof migration 131-33).The most recentshort-story ollection,DreamStuff,appears o have its inceptionaround the same time asAntipodes the writerclaiming n an interviewwithLindaSmith n 1985thathe has anothercollectiononthe way, and also a long novel and anothershorterone.It is, therefore,not surprising hatthere is no startlingchange n the style or themes of the second collection;indeed,it has been hailed as a return o Maloufs mostsuccessful orm,where the "sensuouslyattractive"eadsto the "shockof recognition" hroughdramaticntensityand expressiveeconomy(Craven).We can discern certainshifts,such as the greateremphasison Sydney,a morecontemporary ense ofrandomviolencewithin Australiarather han the com-forts of social conventions,an opening into a moreadultworld of retiredseniorcivil servants,successfulwriters,caravanningnews agents, religiousprejudices.There s an element of intertextualtribute,too, thatdeclaresthe collection as one from a successfullyinstalled"artsidentity."Severalpoets,Shakespeare,IbsenandTennesseeWilliams,and Dickens are men-tioned (81,91, 104-5,177)-1* s nigh impossibleto readthe openingstorywithout some hint of TomKeneally'sSchindler'sArk{Schindler's istin the U.S.), and thecountry undamentalists f "Closer" ot only recall heQueenslandupbringingof JanetteTurnerHospital,

refracted nto her novel Oyster orpossiblytheworld ofJeannetteWinterson's hildhoodwritten nto OrangesAre Not theOnlyFruit),but they also live north ofBuladelahnearthe home districtof poet LesMurray.Possiblya trialpiece forRememberingabylon, Black-soil Country" inwhich thebigotryof a father eads tomurderof Aboriginesand the paybackkilling of hisson, thereby urninghis wife's facefromdreamsof else-where to herpresent ocality)also carries n it the sameidea of ritualsacrifice o settlewhite nomadsinto Aus-tralianaboriginalitywhich is central o Murray'spoem-novel TheBoysWhoStole heFuneral.Dreamsof recon-ciliationof all kindspermeate hebook,and we see thebeginningsperhapsof a socialengagement ookedforin earlierwork,even if it is still in psychologizedandromanticguise.The title DreamStuffoffersa quickguide to Maloufswork.It indicatesa long-standing nterestand sourceofmaterial or thewriterandcombinesdemoticAustralian("somestuff aboutdreams")with unobtrusiveEuropeanliteraryallusion (Freud's"dreamwork"and Shake-speare's"Weare such stuff as dreamsaremadeon").Inthe storythatlends its nameto thebook,"dream tuff"is also the marijuana rownin the tropicalhinterlandof Brisbane. t possibly drives a derangedman disap-pointed in love to attackthe writer-protagonist ndthenattemptsuicide (thusprovidingthe writerwith adream/nightmare,connected angentiallywith his ownhistoryof desiresand failures,on which to build a nar-rative).But it also fuels urbanmythsof druglordsandgangs of streetpeople carriedoff in trucks o harvesttheircrops by night.The disconnectedyet juxtaposedand circlingelementsof life's extremitiesare the mys-terythatshakesus and fromwhich storiesarise.

The easing uggestionfsomethingmore ocome,whichwasunseen utstronglyelt,andhad obepuzzled verandguessed t,appealedohim.Toa sideofhim hatpre-ferred otto come o conclusions.hat ivedmostrichlynmystery ndsuspendedxpectation.heafternoonadashape hathe came o feelwasexemplary,ndhis readersmighthavebeen urprisedoknowhowoften he ictionshe created erived heir agrantorm, utevenmore heirmixture fopenness ndhidden, alf-sought-forenace,fromanoccasion ehadnevergotto thebottom f,forallthathehadgoneback imeafter imeand ethis magina-tionplaywith tsmanypossibilities.41)A new element in the storiesis the citing of a phi-

losopherat the very end of DreamStuff. t is exactlythekindof "classical," econditework a retiredseniorcivilservantfroman establishment amily likely to quote

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Goethe(137)might pick up on in his leisuredprogresstoward the grave.WhileI do not think thatMalouf sindicatinga significant ntellectual nfluence(thepointat the time is the virtueof paying attention o things-an echoof JanetFrame's aterwork),the allusiongivesus some idea of the writer'sgeneral nterests.NicholasMalebranch1638-1715) ttempted o reconcileCarte-sianmind-bodydualism with Catholictheology,con-cludingthatour actingby natural aw orhumanwill isnot in itself causal,but merelythe occasionfor divineintervention;hat we thinkand see and move withinandthrough"theefficacioussubstanceof the divinity"(Flew,202,236).Here we have an indicationof one cen-tralconcern n Malouf'swork: to show how thebody isa sensory organof apprehension hatcan lead the mindto knowledge beyond intellectualreach,how we needthe mind to see patterns n thingsfor such knowledgeto have meaning,and also how both mind andbodyhave to be transcended,"possessed"by somethingsub-lime forany morethanmundanetruthto be perceived.Maloufspeaksof subtlephenomenasparkingoff thecreativedrive,as "messengers tandingaround n yourlife, andyou have to ask themwhat the messageis ...the qualityof light,a colour. . . Youhave to thinkofthem... as sacred"(Tipping,43).There s an element ofthe Romantic ublimein thesemessengers: hey caninspireawe at onceupliftingand terrifying n their car-ryingus over into visions of otherness: he mind of abeehive, the world beyond the farmfence as seen bynomadicAborigines, and and people seen fromanairplane, he violent logic of a terrorist.Partof the writer'shonesty is showing how thevisionary,sublimemoment is itself amoral: t can leadto both fulfillmentand annihilation.In "Outof theStream"young Luke,raging againstthe restrictionsof bourgeois life, is given a glimpse of universalharmony:

You fell into suchstates. . .They beganin strangenessandmelancholy you very nearlyvanished- then when youcameback, t was to a sense of the onenessof things.Therewas a kind of order n the world andit was in you as well.You attended.Youcaughta rhythm o which eachgesturecould be fitted. You let it lead you out of your body into-(Antipodes,82)

Forhim, this leads to thebrinkof suicide,from whichhe is drawnaway by his grandfather nd the rhythmsof gutting,scaling,and cookinga catch of fish. For oth-ers,there s the elatedpoise of the surfer(FlyAwayPeter), scapeinto drugs("DreamStuff"),or the kindofviolencewhich (likewar)can be mythicin its excess.

Thereare crimes hatdefy judgmentbecausetheydefyunderstanding.A mild-mannerednewsagentshutshis shopone evening, goes out to thewoodpilewherethe chooksaredealtwith, takesan axe,sits for tenminutesor so listeningto the sounds of thewarmsuburbannight,thengoes andbutchershis whole family,alongwith a childfromnextdoor who has comein forthe serials.Thelawcourtsdo what theycan,and so too,at the levelwherelocalhistorybe-comesfolk-lore,do thenewspapers;buthorrorsof this sort cannotbegatheredbackinto theweb of daily living, thereis too muchblood,toomuch darkness n them.Wemust assumetheirruptionamongstus ofsome otheragency, awild-hairedfurythatsets its handon a manand shakes thedaylightsout of him, or a god in whom the rivalaspectsofcreationandchaosare of equalimportance ndwho knowsno rule. But badis civil; t is small-scale, ommonplacesomething he good citizen,underothercircumstances,mighthimselfhave doneandis qualified o condemn.("BadBlood/7Antipodes,3)Malouf s clearhow we use the sublime(orotherformsof absolutedifference) o defineour lives. Hisretiredpublicservant,allowed a momentof reflection,

producesa blend of Freudand Nietzsche:Whatwe dare not do ourselves,he foundhimself think-

ing, theydo forus, thehousebreakers,he muggers, hesmashers, he grabmerchants.When we punishthemit is tohide our secretguilt.There s an ancientandirreconcilableargument n us betweensettlementandthe spiritof thenomad,between the makersof orderandourneed to giveourselves over atmomentsto the imps anddemons,to thedervish dance of what is in the last resortdust.We areinlove with what we most fearandhide from,death.("GreatDay/' DreamStuff, 177)

The writeralso suggests thatwe canonly ever tell thestories we know from our own place in cultureandtime (Antipodes,55) hence the consistentlymiddle-class,white-male outlook of the "we"aboveandMa-louf's stories generally.Wherehe falls into the senti-mental,he fails to consider how we constructsuchhorrificdifference o absolve ourselvesfromresponsi-bility, or how we createstrangenessto provide our-selves with an easy promiseof excitementor release.Inthesemoments we feel thatthe insightsor consolationsaffordedcharacters re not earned or fully realized, hat

Here we have an indicationof one central concern inMalouf's work: to showhow the body is a sensoryorgan of apprehension thatcan lead the mind toknowledge beyondintellectual reach . . .

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the necessary solation of the artisthas spilled over intothe life of his characters,hatthe essay has imposedonthe story.Thus, n DreamStuff, he surferson the beachare moresymbolic figuresin the minds of the bourgeoisvoyeursthanrealpeople,andwhen the "holyfool"(traffic-accidentictim,Clem)pronounceshis science-fictionversion of the medievalmystic's"Allwill bewell"- "Anything s possible. Nothing is lost.Nothingevergets lost" 181) thewisdom comes fromnowhere.Thepositive aspectof this is thatits fleetingimpact spartof a loose assemblageof impressionisticmomentsfilteredthroughdifferentcharacters nd events,and thewhole countsformorethanthe odd portentous nstance.Malouf s best when he holds back from full-onroman-tic idealismandconcentrates n the tenuousmysteriousgraceof the ordinary.Thebalancingact betweenbanal-ity and bombastin quest of a lyric fineness and com-pelling harmony,the blend of modernityand classi-cism,intellectand image, producefor me an Australianprose equivalentof W. H. Auden's verse:a difficult,oftenuneven,but overallcompellingachievement.ETUI

University of WollongongWorks consultedAuden,W. H. Selected oems.EdwardMendelson,ed. London.Faber& Faber.1979.Copeland,Julie."Interviewwith DavidMalouf/'ALS.Craven,Peter."Shockof Recognition." ydneyMorningHerald,1April2000,Spectrum,p. 10s.Dessaix,Robert.NightLetters.Sydney.Macmillan. 996.Dever,Maryanne."SecretCompanions:TheContinuityofDavid Malouf 's Fiction." WorldLiteratureWrittenin English,26:1 1986),pp. 67-74.Flew,Anthony,&JenniferSpeake,eds.A Dictionary fPhiloso-phy.London.PanBooks.1979.Greer,Germaine."Malouf'sBabylon,an IndulgentTale ofSelf." TheGuardian,reprinted in the Sydney Morning Herald,5 November1993,p. 11.Hassan,Ihab."InDreamsBeginReconciliations"ReviewofDreamStuff).Australian ookReview, 19(April2000),pp.39-40.Kavanagh,Paul."WithBreath ustCondensingon It:An Inter-view with David Malouf."Southerly, (1986),pp. 247-59.Kiernan,Suzanne."ATrip rom the OuterSuburbs o theSoul's Destination"Reviewof 12 Edmondstonetreet).TheNationalTimes, -9January1986,p. 28.

Koch,C.J.TheDoubleman.ondon,Chatto&Windus.1985.Llewellyn,Kate.TheWaterlily. awthorn.Hudson.1987.Malouf,David.Johnno.t. Lucia.Universityof QueenslandPress.1975. . AnImaginary ife.London.Chatto& Windus.1978. . Child's lay,Eustace,ndTheProwler. ondon.Chatto& Windus.1982. . Fly AwayPeter.London.Chatto&Windus.1982. . Harland's alfAcre.London.Chatto&Windus/Hogarth.1984. . 12Edmondstonetreet.London.Chatto&Windus/

Hogarth.1985. . Antipodes. ondon.Chatto&WindusHogarth.1985. . TheGreatWorld. ondon.Chatto&WindusHogarth.1990. . Rememberingabylon. ondon.Chatto&Windus/Hogarth.1993. . TheConversationst CurlowCreek.MilsonsPoint,NSW.Vintage.1996. . Dream tuff.London.Chatto&WindusHogarth.2000. . "AFirstPlace:TheMappingof a World."Southerly,March1985,pp. 3-10. . "Operaandthe Muse."SydneyMorningHerald, pec-trum,12August2000,pp. 1,8-9.(SMH)Murray,Les.TheBoysWhoStole heFuneral. ydney.Angus&Robertson. 980.Pierce,Peter."ProblematicHistory,Problemsof Form:DavidMalouf sRememberingabylon."n ProvisionalMaps:CriticalEssays n DavidMalouf.AmandaNettlebeck, d. Nedlands,W.A.Universityof WesternAustralia,Centre orStudies nAustralianLiterature. 994.Pp. 183-96.Smith,Linda."DavidMalouf:PublicFaceof a PrivateAuthor."TheWeekendustralianMagazine,-7April1985,p. 4.Smith,Sybille."DavidMaloufs ShortStories" ReviewofAntipodes). uadrant,uly1985,pp. 83-85.Tipping,Richard."DavidMalouf n ConversationwithRichardKellyTipping."PNReview,1986),pp. 41-45.TurnerHospital,Janette.Oyster.MilsonsPoint,NSW.Vintage.1997.Wallace-Crabbe,hris."AFistfulof Fables" Reviewof UntoldTales).Australian ookReview, 18(February/March2000),p. 45.Winterson, eanette.OrangesAreNot theOnlyFruit.London.Bloomsbury. 991.

Paul Sharrad s Associate rofessorn English tudies t theUni-versity f WollongongAustralia). e teachesn areas fpostcolonialliteratures,ditsNew LiteraturesReview,andhaspublished ain-lyonIndian ndPacificwritingn English.He hasreviewedorWLT ince1990.

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A Delicate Business David Malouf's Shorter Prose