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November 2009, no. 316

Welcome to the November 2009 issue of Australian Book Review.

John Byron reviews Film Adaptation and its Discontents: From Gone With The Wind to The Passion of The Christ by Thomas Leitch
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Contents Category: Film
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Article Title: The colour of his breeches
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If the past is a foreign country, Hollywood is another planet: they sure do things differently there. Just how differently is the predictable and tedious obsession of far too much adaptation scholarship, fixated on the degree of fidelity of a film to its adapted literary Urtext. This practice, boring and unimaginative, diverts the attention from what art can tell us about ourselves to what it can tell us about the colour of the breeches worn in the novel by that odd fellow in the twelfth chapter. Thomas Leitch, for one, is sick of it, and he has set out to shake up film scholarship and inject new life into the study of adaptation in this wide-ranging and acutely observed treatment.

Book 1 Title: Film Adaptation and its Discontents
Book 1 Subtitle: From Gone With The Wind to The Passion of The Christ
Book Author: Thomas Leitch
Book 1 Biblio: Johns Hopkins University Press, $52.95 pb, 354 pp
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If the past is a foreign country, Hollywood is another planet: they sure do things differently there. Just how differently is the predictable and tedious obsession of far too much adaptation scholarship, fixated on the degree of fidelity of a film to its adapted literary Urtext. This practice, boring and unimaginative, diverts the attention from what art can tell us about ourselves to what it can tell us about the colour of the breeches worn in the novel by that odd fellow in the twelfth chapter. Thomas Leitch, for one, is sick of it, and he has set out to shake up film scholarship and inject new life into the study of adaptation in this wide-ranging and acutely observed treatment.

Leitch, a prominent figure in American film studies, has recently developed a niche in the sub-discipline of literature-to-film adaptation. He has spent the last few years railing against the most simplistic approaches and encouraging those who look beyond specious questions of infidelity and transformation. I have seen him in action – engaging in good-natured but passionate debate with old friends and new colleagues alike – at the Literature/Film Association annual conference in the United States. Despite the cheerful urging of Leitch and his fellow travellers, though, critical practices are frustratingly slow to change. As he remarks in one of his endnotes: ‘Adaptation theorists regularly deplore the principle of using fidelity to a putative original as a measure of a given adaptation’s success even as many of them do exactly that themselves.’

Read more: John Byron reviews 'Film Adaptation and its Discontents: From Gone With The Wind to The Passion of...

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Stuart Macintyre reviews Historical Encyclopedia of Western Australia edited by Jenny Gregory and Jan Gothard
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Contents Category: Western Australia
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Article Title: A to Z of the West
Article Subtitle: The new reference to Western Australia
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In the closing years of the twentieth century, historians combined to produce large reference volumes of national history. Some were stimulated by anniversaries, notably the dictionary, atlas, gazetteer and chronology, guide to sources and compilation of statistics that were published by Fairfax, Syme and Weldon for the Bicentenary. Some were initiated by publishers, such as the Companion to Australian History (1998) that Graeme Davison, John Hirst, and I edited for Oxford University Press.

Book 1 Title: Historical Encyclopedia of Western Australia
Book Author: Jenny Gregory and Jan Gothard
Book 1 Biblio: University of Western Australia Press, $99.95 hb, 1044 pp
Book 1 Author Type: Editor
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In the closing years of the twentieth century, historians combined to produce large reference volumes of national history. Some were stimulated by anniversaries, notably the dictionary, atlas, gazetteer and chronology, guide to sources and compilation of statistics that were published by Fairfax, Syme and Weldon for the Bicentenary. Some were initiated by publishers, such as the Companion to Australian History (1998) that Graeme Davison, John Hirst, and I edited for Oxford University Press.

In the opening years of the present century, the historical profession has turned its attention to states and cities. The Wakefield Companion to South Australian History appeared in 2001, then the Companion to Tasmanian History and the Encyclopedia of Melbourne in 2005. A similar work for Sydney is being prepared, and no doubt others will follow.

Read more: Stuart Macintyre reviews 'Historical Encyclopedia of Western Australia' edited by Jenny Gregory...

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Open Page with Andrea Goldsmith
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Why do you write?

For the language, for the ideas, for the pleasures of the imagination, for the unorthodox hours, for the solitude.

Are you a vivid dreamer?

To dream you need to sleep, and sleep, like sport, is not a skill I have mastered.

Where are you happiest?

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Patrick McCaughey reviews I Blame Duchamp: My Life’s adventures in art by Edmund Capon
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Contents Category: Art
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Article Title: Capon’s gallimaufry
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Over the past three decades, Edmund Capon has transformed the Art Gallery of New South Wales. Before he arrived, you could have swapped the contents of the Sydney gallery with Ballarat’s and nobody would have noticed the difference. How a city of that size, wealth and international ambition could have wound up with such a provincial collection puzzled the mind. No more. Capon has thrown out new wings, created a distinguished Asian collection virtually ex nihilo, attracted the generous benefaction of some remarkable old master paintings from James Fairfax, and acquired major twentieth-century and contemporary works. As importantly, he has made the AGNSW the liveliest of the state galleries. Even a wet Tuesday morning sees the central court thronged. Often Capon installs a medley of works there which would look inchoate in most other galleries but which emerge as resounding and triumphant. I once saw the big Kirchner Three bathers hung with the august Max Beckmann’s Mother and daughter and Picasso’s crackling Seated nude from the mid 1950s. Collectively, they gave off the whack and weight of modernity more excitingly than any other display in Australia.

Book 1 Title: I Blame Duchamp
Book 1 Subtitle: My Life’s adventures in art
Book Author: Edmund Capon
Book 1 Biblio: Lantern (Penguin Books), $49.95 hb, 396 pp
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Over the past three decades, Edmund Capon has transformed the Art Gallery of New South Wales. Before he arrived, you could have swapped the contents of the Sydney gallery with Ballarat’s and nobody would have noticed the difference. How a city of that size, wealth and international ambition could have wound up with such a provincial collection puzzled the mind. No more. Capon has thrown out new wings, created a distinguished Asian collection virtually ex nihilo, attracted the generous benefaction of some remarkable old master paintings from James Fairfax, and acquired major twentieth-century and contemporary works. As importantly, he has made the AGNSW the liveliest of the state galleries. Even a wet Tuesday morning sees the central court thronged. Often Capon installs a medley of works there which would look inchoate in most other galleries but which emerge as resounding and triumphant. I once saw the big Kirchner Three bathers hung with the august Max Beckmann’s Mother and daughter and Picasso’s crackling Seated nude from the mid 1950s. Collectively, they gave off the whack and weight of modernity more excitingly than any other display in Australia.

There has been substance and ambition behind such key acquisitions as Braque’s 1908–09 landscape, the most important cubist picture in Australia and, more recently, the fine Cézanne, which must be the most expensive work of art acquired by an Australian art gallery since Jackson Pollock’s Blue poles.

Read more: Patrick McCaughey reviews 'I Blame Duchamp: My Life’s adventures in art' by Edmund Capon

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Michael Shmith reviews The Point of the Baton: Memoir of a conductor by John Hopkins (with William Cottam)
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Contents Category: Memoir
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Article Title: Hoppy the hero
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My memory of John Hopkins – in fact, the memories of most of my generation of Australian music-lovers – goes back to the Proms he conducted in Sydney and then Melbourne from the mid 1960s to the early 1970s. Hopkins was, to young audiences of the day, an anti-establishment musician who dared to strip the furniture from the stalls and, in the process, also strip away what he calls the ‘dynamic conservatism’ of the then Australian Broadcasting Commission. ‘Hoppy’, as he was known, was a hero – the Sir Henry Wood of the Great Southern Land. He was, after all, English, with a broad Yorkshire accent.

Book 1 Title: The Point of the Baton
Book 1 Subtitle: Memoir of a conductor
Book Author: John Hopkins (with William Cottam)
Book 1 Biblio: Lyrebird Press, $66 pb, 259 pp
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My memory of John Hopkins – in fact, the memories of most of my generation of Australian music-lovers – goes back to the Proms he conducted in Sydney and then Melbourne from the mid 1960s to the early 1970s. Hopkins was, to young audiences of the day, an anti-establishment musician who dared to strip the furniture from the stalls and, in the process, also strip away what he calls the ‘dynamic conservatism’ of the then Australian Broadcasting Commission. ‘Hoppy’, as he was known, was a hero – the Sir Henry Wood of the Great Southern Land. He was, after all, English, with a broad Yorkshire accent.

Of course, from the vantage point of a tartan picnic rug on the dusty hardwood of the Melbourne Town Hall, we all looked up to John Hopkins: that balding, toothy, eternally cheerful fellow in a white tuxedo who filled our long, hot summers with music by composers whose names we didn’t know and couldn’t spell, and which were speckled with curious foreign accents: György Ligeti, Luboš Fišer, Edgar Varèse, Witold Lutosławski. Then there were other composers, more easily spelt and without the accents, who were just as challenging, even though they were closer to home. Where would Australian music have been without Hoppy to bring to our attention works by Peter Sculthorpe, Nigel Butterley, Richard Meale, Margaret Sutherland, Don Banks and a legion of mid twentieth-century Australian or Australian-born composers?

Read more: Michael Shmith reviews 'The Point of the Baton: Memoir of a conductor' by John Hopkins (with...

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