<\/p>\n
I first came to the Barr Smith twenty years ago. Sat in a corner, somewhere. Admired the spray-on concrete ceiling, the flickering lights, the books about mycology. Eventually, I sharpened my pencil and began. What might\u2019ve been a career; although it\u2019s mostly felt like a hobby; what might\u2019ve been the Great Australian novel; although the remaindered fragments of the 2000 Vogel-runner-up, Attempts to Draw Jesus<\/em>, are scattered far and wide. The pages yellow; the glue fails; the spine cracks. You find a copy (inscribed) at the Port Dock market. $3.00, or negotiable.<\/p>\n Point being. I was off and running. On a career that\u2019s had more downs than ups, lows than highs, disappointments than vindications. Henry Lawson went through something similar. His advice to Australian writers was to \u2018study elementary anatomy, especially as it applies to the cranium, and then shoot yourself carefully with the aid of a looking glass.\u2019 Ninety years later, George Johnston felt the same way. Living on the Greek island of Hydra in 1958, he explained his and Charmaine Clift\u2019s combined income of 125 pounds \u2018comes from five books in circulation or accepted, two foreign translations, one sale of foreign serial rights, an earlier novel and certain magazine extracts. For this, and all the work it represents, the return\u2026I\u2019m sure you\u2019ll agree is hardly worth while.\u2019<\/p>\n Hardly worth while. But, he explained, \u2018I have all sorts of writing plans and shall probably go on producing a novel a year for many years to come.\u2019 This, as all writers know, is the curse of perpetual frustration. He explained it away by saying, \u2018I have, you see, enough confidence in myself at least\u2026\u2019<\/p>\n Back to the Barr Smith; two levels below here. The terrazzo dunnies with their outstanding graffiti. Phil Grummet, a character in my second published book, Hill of Grace<\/em>, studies pharmacology at Adelaide University, but he has a bent for other things (if you know what I mean). This includes perfecting his poetic gifts on the dunny walls (a sort of budget Mastersingers of Nuremburg<\/em>). Someone drills holes in the walls. Just enough to cop an eyeful. But Phil writes messages like, Not Recommended for Children, or, Insert Here. He adds the predictable: Arts Degrees, please take a single sheet, above the bog paper, and tries some Eliot on the back of the door. We shall never cease from exploring. And he doesn\u2019t. Ending up at Mt Crawford vomiting mushrooms he mistakes for the magic variety.<\/p>\n The Barr Smith has changed. I spent hours watching flies trying to escape from cobwebs, the spider emerging, the worst of natural selection as my fiction went unwritten. I wrote my first five books here. Longhand. Clearing my throat when people talked, and the librarians didn\u2019t spring to life, jumping on the miscreants like an elite SS troop. Eventually I\u2019d give up and move, throwing a angry glance, not that anyone cared. Silence, I think, is the most valuable thing of all. Up there with love, wisdom, an unexpected sunburst.<\/p>\n The Barr Smith rendered by Simon Fieldhouse<\/a>.<\/em><\/p><\/div>\n I loved the Barr Smith\u2019s retro fifties feel, although it wasn\u2019t actually retro. The desks, the chairs, the Khrushchev-era windows. The idea that a million people had written a million books about a million topics and, if I had the time, I could explore them all. That\u2019s always what\u2019s excited me. The potential to know. I could never understand sport. That only ever had the potential to kick a bit further, run a bit faster. So what? So I\u2019d sit there for an hour after I\u2019d finished writing. Looking through maths texts, wondering why I was looking through maths texts. Reading a history of sans serif types, or the Hitler Youth. The same thing I did as a kid, at school. The grass was always green, the sandwiches stale and sweaty. But if you were early enough, and got a copy of Asterix, your lunch would be bearable.<\/p>\n That\u2019s why libraries matters. Why the Barr Smith matters. All of this knowledge is held in trust. For our great great grandkids. God knows they\u2019ll have Weatherill\u2019s plutonium to deal with, so we should leave them something they actually want. I hope the books remain. The heavy, smelly paper types. I hope someone doesn\u2019t come in, digitise them, and then arrange a book burning on the Barr Smith lawns. Or maybe others have that in mind? The Advertiser<\/em>. Winston Smith snipping away at the truth, producing a world view pleasing to the North Terrace mob. Bill and Ben, flower pot men. Praising ham strings and high octane stupidity in equal measure.<\/p>\n So, now you\u2019re saying. My, he\u2019s a bit angry, isn\u2019t he? To which I reply: Moi? Problem being, speaking writers, it seems, are meant to entertain audiences these days. I prefer to terrify. And at this, Patrick White was the best. If I can share a selected quote: \u2018The Bicentennial circus tends to hide from us the fact that we are no longer a democracy. We are a country run by and for millionaires and by a prime minister who toadies to them.\u2019 Or: \u2018In a society where there has been such a serious lapse in integrity, our politicians\u2019 attitude to uranium isn\u2019t surprising.\u2019 Wonder what he\u2019d make of Kimba, glowing with golden wheat, sheep, and other things?<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/em> Stephen Orr reading his latest novel, The Hands<\/a>, as part of the upcoming Goulburn Biggest Read<\/a>.<\/em><\/p><\/div>\n Listen to the rest of Stephen’s speech<\/strong>\u00a0here<\/a> thanks to Radio Adelaide.<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" In 2016\u00a0the Friends of the Barr Smith Library have teamed up with Wakefield Press to present a series\u00a0of talks by Wakefield Press authors. On 21 April, renowned novelist Stephen Orr entertained the masses (despite attesting that he prefers to ‘terrify’) … Continue reading ![\"The](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.wakefieldpress.com.au\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/07\/Barr-Smith-Library-Adelaide-University-Simon-Fieldhouse-300x224.jpg?resize=300%2C224\")
<\/a>![\"Stephen](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.wakefieldpress.com.au\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/07\/Screen-shot-2016-07-05-at-11.09.15-AM-300x202.png?resize=300%2C202\")
<\/a>