Category: Life

Memories

personby Gillian Polack
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When my life is a bit too busy or the illnesses eat my energy, I’m going to share with you something about my books or something I wrote for another time in another place. Today it’s the latter, and I feel wildly historical, so here’s an article I wrote for BiblioBuffet in 2011. Why did I choose this? I’d love to know what books you’d use to illustrate some of the things you read for. I want to know what books I’d place, 15 years on and to find out if my reading has changed in nature, but for that I need energy. One day. Today is about the books I read one week, back in 2011, and why I enjoyed them.

 

 

I love lists. Today I have a list that’s ten items long. It could have been five, or a hundred, or even a thousand. I wanted to tell you ten things I love about books and illustrate them using some of my recent reading. Some of the recent reading is hot off the press, and some is less so. I’ve chosen books from the speculative fiction end of the reading spectrum. This might be because they reflect my reading recently. It’s just possible. Let me admit, up front, that I know some of these writers. I wish I knew them all, but I know just a couple. Once there is something in someone’s writing that you love, the likelihood is quite high that when you meet the person in question, that you will get on. I’ve only given examples from writers whose books struck me for these precise reasons before I ever met the writer in question.

My ten things:

1. I love exploring someone else’s politics through their fiction, especially when that fiction is very fine. My book for this is Ursula Le Guin’s The Dispossessed. It’s all about freedom and the life of the mind and the limitations that we humans place upon ourselves. A lot of political books written in the 1970s have dated, for life has changed since the seventies, but this one hasn’t dated at all. It’s still vibrant and forceful.

2. Lyrical writing couched secretly inside a genre novel. It takes me by surprise and gives me a sense of the world being right, every time. So many of my favourite writers have this flavour in their writing: Hope Mirrlees, Alma Alexander, Mervyn Peake. My example for today, however, is Daniel Fox’s Dragon in Chains because he manages to take a non-Western universe and make it feel particular and its own, while still maintaining that lyricism.

3. Sometimes language and concept and personality infuse a writer’s work. Cordawiner Smith and Roger Zelazy are two writers who don’t seem to be able to write a word of fiction without that word somehow defining the universe anew. My example book is probably the least of all the writings of both authors: Roger Zelazny’s The Last Defender of Camelot. It is, however, the one I re-read most recently. When I get some time, I intend to re-read the whole Amber cycle, plus Smith’s Norstrilia books. Time is the limiting factor. Their worlds and their words haunt me even when I don’t go near the writing for years on end.

4. The historian deep inside me (well, maybe not so deep, in fact maybe just the one who shares the same skin as the rest of me) loves a book that explores another world that breaks with what we accept as normal reality and that does so in such a way that the reader accepts things that are unacceptable or understands things that are usually conceptually too difficult. Not that I want to accept the unacceptable, but that I really like writing that’s strong backing world building that’s even stronger. Aliette de Bodard’s Harbinger of the Storm is today’s example of that. An Aztec society, with gods and belief systems and treatment of women that are very uncomfortable for me, and yet I must read and continue reading for she makes it real. Lord of the Flies was the same but more so ‑ hate the world, but must believe it can exist.

5. There is happiness in small things. Grumpy fairy tales and twisted minds. When I was a child I read James Thurber’s The 13 Clocks and The Wonderful O. They rang truer for me than most other children’s literature at that time. The other book that I fell in love with (and have a lion’s head doorknocker right now, to prove that doorknockers are crucial to grumpy magical existence) is William Makepeace Thackeray’s The Rose and the Ring. The bizarre fairytale is still my favourite book by Thackeray, and this despite me having read Vanity Fair at least four times.

6. There are warped and twisted books for adults, also. There is Shriek. An Afterword by Jeff VanderMeer and there is almost anything by James Enge. I was reading Enge’s The Wolf Age and I finally realised that it’s not the sharpness of these books or even their views on society that make them so delightful, it’s their inventiveness. Enge’s imagination is always one step beyond my mind’s reasoning ‑ he manages to think of places I’ve never thought of and make fantasy worlds look fresh and new.

7. There are trilogies. There are sets of trilogies. What there are, too, are occasional authors who manage to write one big book that has been broken up into parts that make coherent narrative sense but that are nevertheless mere aspects of one big book. I always find one of these near my desk, for I have a weakness for them. Right now there are two books by Joe Abercrombie, and there is Ravensoul, part 4 of James Barclay’s Legends of the Raven.

8. I love it when the people of two worlds meet. There’s always a book in my vicinity that shows the clash of cultures or someone who was brought up in two worlds or is touched by two worlds and has difficult choices ahead. The most recent book that touched on this (and leaves it unresolved ‑ I must read the next book!) is Jon Sprunk’s Shadow’s Lure.

9. Steampunk! Right now, for me, steampunk is alone enough to make me look twice at something. From the reasonably standard romantic approach to machines and villains and changing worlds expressed in Andrew P Mayer’s The Falling Machine to the steampunk romance of Katie MacAlister, but the best encapsulation right now, for me, personally, is in the work of Cherie Priest.

10. New approaches to something that I thought I knew. Eye-opening and making the whole world new. This is the most exciting writing of all. My example is Kafakaesque, and I shall write about it properly in due course. Some books demand attention of their own, and this is one. The editors’ genius in placing Carol Emshwiller, Kate Wilhelm and Theodora Goss in the same volume make it something that shifts what thought I knew about short stories. This is my current reading, and it’s wonderful.

Books mentioned in this column:

The 13 Clocks, by James Thurber (NYR Children’s Collection, 2008) 978-1590172759

Changer of Days, Alma Alexander (HarperVoyager, 2005) 978-0060765750

The Dispossessed, by Ursula Le Guin (HarperVoyager, 1994) 978-0061054884

Dragon in Chains, by Daniel Fox (Del Rey, 2009) 978-0345503053

The Falling Machine, by Andrew P Mayer (Pyr, 2011) 978-1616143756

Harbinger of the Storm, by Aliette de Bodard (Angry Robot, 2011) 978-0857660763

Kafakaesque, John Kessel and James Patrick Kelly (ed) (Tachyon, 2011) 978 1 61696 049 0

The Last Defender of Camelot, Roger Zelazny (ibooks, 2007) 978-1596871076

Lord of the Flies, by William Golding (Perigee Trade, 2003) 978-0399529207

Lud-in-the-Mist, Hope Mirrlees (Cold Spring Press, 2005) 978-1593600419

Ravensoul, by James Barclay (Pyr, 2011) 978-1616143817

The Rose and the Ring, by WM Thackeray (Folio Society, 1964)

Shadow’s Lure, By Jon Sprunk (Pyr, 2011) 978-1616143718

Shriek. An Afterword, by Jeff VanderMeer (Tor, 2007) 978-0765314666

The Wolf Age, by James Enge (Pyr, 2010) 978-1616142438

The Wonderful O, by James Thurber (NYR Children’s Collection, 2009) 978-1590173091

personby Deborah J. Ross
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Traumatic memories are often fragmented – a psychologist explains how and why that happens

Young Asian woman sits on a sofa looking sad and worried.
Traumatic memories are not recalled the same way pleasant memories are.
Filmstax/E+ via Getty Images

Michele Patterson Ford, Dickinson College

When survivors of trauma recount their experiences, they are often questioned because of how they relay their stories. They may have problems remembering what happened, or their memories may be jumbled or even contradictory. People hearing those stories – attorneys, reporters, healthcare workers or friends – may expect a clearer, linear narrative.

Those unaffected by trauma may also be surprised to hear how the person acted in the moment. It’s easy to assume that someone experiencing a traumatic event would have a “fight or flight” response, instinctively fighting off a perpetrator or fleeing the scene – but that might not be the case.

Understanding the science of how trauma affects memory and behavior reveals why these responses can actually be expected and are not contradictory.

In both my academic and clinical work as a psychologist, I have witnessed the impact trauma has on people’s memories and behaviors, especially when an event in their present life triggers something from their past.

Research shows that taking a trauma-informed approach, which prioritizes understanding and curiosity about someone’s experience as opposed to judgment or critical evaluation, increases empathy for survivors’ thoughts, feelings and behaviors.

How trauma affects the brain

According to the World Health Organization, approximately 70% of people worldwide report experiencing a traumatic event in their lifetime. The majority of these people do not develop PTSD, a clinical diagnosis of symptoms, such as having nightmares and flashbacks about the event, avoiding places that are reminders of it, and increased arousal that can make concentration and sleep difficult. Many survivors don’t meet criteria for PTSD but struggle with feeling distressed, depressed or anxious.

In traumatic situations, people often respond in unexpected ways, and they may second-guess themselves. This may happen particularly when someone experiences a repeated trauma, which is more likely than not due to how many people experience traumatic events.

Trauma also distorts how memories are stored and retrieved.

Research indicates that people experience traumatic memories differently than memories of other significant events, such as sad or positive experiences. Two of the main brain structures scientists believe are involved in storing traumatic memories are the hippocampus – responsible for memory storage – and the amygdala, which is responsible for processing emotions.

During trauma, the amygdala becomes highly active, processing emotions such as fear, and the hippocampus becomes overwhelmed by stress, leading to problems with memory storage.

Traumatic memories do not follow a neat, linear story. Instead, people may experience the memory as disconnected fragments of sensations, emotions, smells or images. Such memories cause the body to reexperience the past threat as if it is happening in the moment. This may cause a person to feel like running away or fighting back – flight or fight. Or they may freeze.

In other words, people don’t have the distant perspective they often feel with other memories from the past. Rather, they may feel they are reliving the original experience.

Single working mother and her teenage daughter talk with much emotion in the kitchen.
Emotionally intense conversations can bring up past traumas, causing a person to freeze or feel numb.
Olga Rolenko/Moment via Getty Images
Misinterpreting victims’ behaviors

With this understanding, consider someone who experiences a trauma at the hands of a professional during an appointment. They may appear outwardly calm while it happens and then leave the session as they typically would – checking out, providing payment and possibly even scheduling the next appointment. While their response to act normally may seem odd, such behavior makes sense for someone trying to escape a threat.

Fight, flight or freeze responses have become widely known in popular culture. In a freeze response, a person’s mind goes blank and they may be unable to speak, leading to a “deer in the headlights” behavior.

On the other hand, a person may act paradoxically – perhaps by going on about their day as if nothing happened. They may not report the event or may question whether the incident even occurred. This represents another survival response – the lesser-known fawn response. This way of handling stress occurs when someone acts calm, appeases the threatening person and retreats to de-escalate the situation. Instead of literally backing away, in this example, the person metaphorically backs away by completing the session and exiting as expected without further conflict.

Outsiders may misconstrue these behaviors as evidence that a trauma did not actually happen or that a survivor lacks credibility. But that logic reflects common misconceptions about how people “should” remember or respond to trauma.

If this was the person’s first experience with a traumatic situation, afterward they are likely to feel afraid, disoriented or hyperalert. However, if they had previous similar experiences, this scenario may trigger past memories in the moment. This can muddy the experience even further, making it difficult to recall the incident later, especially under stressful circumstances.

When a survivor reports an incident and ultimately testifies against someone who harmed them, memory recall might be uniquely affected. Most people in this situation would be highly stressed, especially if the perpetrator were in the room.

To make matters worse, the feeling that the recalled memory is actually happening in the moment and not in the past may cause a survivor to convey a more fragmented story. They may also have either a more intense or detached emotional experience, depending on their own trauma responses.

Legal and other professionals unaware of the range of natural responses to trauma can easily misinterpret these behaviors as signs of lying or malingering.

In reality, the percentage of people who falsely report sexual assault, for example, is low – between 2% and 10%.

Two middle-aged men of diverse racial backgrounds engage in an intimate conversation while sitting in a living room.
Empathy can build trust and safety.
AzmanL/E+ via Getty Images
Providing better support

Research shows that people who better understand nuances of trauma and mental health in turn are more empathetic toward survivors. Some healthcare settings have adopted a trauma-informed approach to prevent retraumatization and build safety. Studies show that even being attentive to word choice can help ensure effective care for patients that avoids victim blaming.

A trauma-informed approach can also improve legal and justice systems so victims are better supported. This includes understanding why accounts aren’t linear and not equating memory inconsistencies with lying.

Research also shows that trauma-informed responses are equally important in everyday relationships. In friendships and close relationships, or in the workplace, patience and empathy convey a sense of respect, safety and trustworthiness. These offer a strong foundation for positive social and working relationships, which can lower a survivor’s distress and support their healing.

When people have a greater understanding of how trauma affects the brain, they gain insight into how survivors think, act and process their memories. What initially looks confusing or inconsistent is actually behavior that flows logically from a traumatized brain.

Having a trauma-informed perspective helps people to be better friends, co-workers and professionals. By extension, responding from this awareness may even help survivors understand their own reactions and experiences, which may ultimately aid their healing and ability to lead fulfilling lives.The Conversation

Michele Patterson Ford, Lecturer in Psychology, Dickinson College

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Continue reading …

Australia

personby Gillian Polack
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Today I want to talk about cancellation in Australia. I want to talk about it under the same heading as the Green party in the UK, at a meeting where they had to have a ‘safe room’ for Jewish Greens, passing a motion that Zionism is racism but failing to pass the addition that Jews should be safe in the UK. That heading is sometimes “All is well just as long as we make decisions for you.” That heading can also be “As long as no-one knows what’s actually happened here, we can pretend everyone’s safe.” Mostly it’s “Jews must remain silent here. We do their thinking for them.”.

Once upon a time there was a mass murder in Israel. October 7 2023. Many people who had been closet antisemites came into the open. A bunch of Jewish writers and artists and others who create needed to talk, so someone made a Whatsapp channel and lo, they worked towards healing. A few of them (maybe five, maybe six (I read the material in question, but didn’t count) talked about writing letters to make it clear that Jewish Australians and Australian Jews were scared by the rise in antisemitism. Someone doxxed all 600+ people in that group. Their argument was mainly about evil Jews plotting. So many in the Arts in Oz were hurt by this and Jews have been given purity tests for literary festivals. I was not doxxed myself, because I can’t get WhatsApp to work so I never joined the group, so I’m only targeted by those purity tests and by erasure. I didn’t have to move house for safety and over that time, I have only received one death threat.

This was in 2024. So the problems are now past for Jews in the creative industries in Australia? Not at all.

I myself (undoxxed) am still only welcome at most events as an audience member as long as I carry or wear nothing that indicates I’m Jewish. My home town excludes me more than anyone: I am not (at the moment of writing this post) on the programme for anything to do with writing in the Canberra region. When I ask, I am given ‘reasons.’

Some organisers elsewhere won’t let any racism enter their doors and do not exclude Jewish writers. I was both delighted to be a minor part of the Sydney Fringe (I gave a workshop and panel at the science fiction weekend at Old Government House) and why I celebrate whenever I am welcome into a place without anyone wanting to shout “Free Palestine” or “Jews murder babies” at me.

The doxxing happened in 2024. I say this again because something important just happened. Jewish artists and writers and musicians created a film called “Cancelled,” Explaining what has happened through the life of four who had to deal. It was shown at a film festival… then it was cancelled. Right now, it’s impossible to see.

First doxxing then cancellation – this sums up three years of life in the Arts in Jewish Australia for most of us.

A Fortnight in the Life

personby Gillian Polack
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This week’s post is about my next few days. I’ll skip most of the writing and editing and publishing side, because they’re posts all of their own. One day, you will learn more. Keep reading, because eventually there is coffee.

This weekend I’ll be at Octocon. Online in Ireland. This is the Ireland we don’t see in the news. I feel safe there. In honour of an Irish friend who I (alas) haven’t seen in decades, let me share his cure for hangovers to provide a bridge between the antisemitic country we hear about and the kindness and openness of fandom in Ireland and Northern Ireland: 1 part port to one part brandy. Any quantity. If necessary repeat the dose several hours later.

I’m on two panels and giving a workshop on world building. I do love sharing my worldbuilding research. Each time I teach it a bit differently. This time it’s going to be all about Medieval magic. Not all Medieval magic, but how to incorporate certain aspects of that magic into your perfect novel in a way that makes it feel to the reader that they can find that magic portal and enter your world.

Another thing-of-the-moment is waiting anxiously to see if a kickstarter gets up. I have an essay in the book being kickstarted and I so want it to become published. It’s also related to my research self linking with my writing self. It’s the uni classes I would be giving if I were still in the teaching system in Canberra but, alas, Canberra is still not keen on me teaching and I’ve given up asking and instead written an essay: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/benyehuda/again-at-a-crossroads

What else am I doing? Eating fruit and nuts, because it’s Sukkot. Being worried a bit because ASIO tells us that Jews here are still under threat. Dealing with hate. Dealing with hate has been an everyday thing for 3 years now (the anniversary in the Jewish calendar of October 7 is at the end of Sukkot) and you’ve heard enough about it, so I won’t explore it here.

I’m revising my own thoughts about the world. I do this regularly. I’m an ethnohistorian, I know that people change and culture changes and I need to know how I change. Every bit of my own bias I understand, I can factor into my other work. When I realised that being hated was a bad path to take for self-analysis, I decided to watch old TV to remind myself of where I have been and give myself context to explain how I deal with this interesting new world. I’m watching two shows right now to give myself this context. One is Heroes, which was first shown in Australia after I’d started looking into how we see heroes in story. I began on that trail 45 years ago, so it’s a handy trail to look back from and check for change. When heroes was first release I was in the middle of formulating a tool, which I never took up academically but which is a lot of fun socially. If our TV was seen by aliens or our literature read by aliens, how would they see humans? I looked at gender, age, cultural background, religious background, amount of violence, amount and nature of sex-related stuff, material goods, use of tropes… No big project because no funding for it, alas. I still play with aspects of the idea, however.

The other show is Doctor Who. I saw the original when I was very small, and it’s been part of my viewing life. Every twenty years I watch as much as I can and it shows me how I have travelled to reach my current point. Last time I rewatched was the year before the new series, because our public broadcaster showed much of the surviving Who. Oddly, I could remember the bits that were not there. Later, as other bits became cartoonified and put to the original audio, I discovered a strange phenomenon: I could remember the original and, in one story in particular, it was as if the original walked alongside the new version and they argued with each other.

Now I’m in the 70s with Tom Baker. I was in high school when it was first shown, and it’s a wonderful tool for bringing back lost memories. When I say “Tom Baker” people instantly tell me about the scarf, but what I find is that Baker himself acts as himself and so the Doctor is real and so… it’s closer to who I was as a teen and how I saw myself.

My family never let me become properly Gothic and was not kind in the way they prevented it (which is another story), so some of the Baker episodes show me a path I wanted to travel but could not. I suspect this will appear in my fiction sooner rather than alter, because I have a character at hand who needs to discover something related.

Everything returns to story in my life. Always. This is not a bad thing.

Another thing that is not bad at all is that a friend gave me some of the spice mix used in Yemeni coffee. It fits with the way coffee was made in the region in the 15th century. When time permits, I’ll see if I can find out the relationship between the current spice mix and the history of coffee. I need to get through the next few weeks first, however. I’ve told you the tip of the iceberg, but I do not want the actual iceberg to turn my life into another Titanic accident. This takes careful navigation.

Not another Royal Commission!

personby Gillian Polack
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This is a quick note because my week is just a tad busier than usual. First, there’s always catching up on paperwork to do after Yom Kippur, because people always send me things, assuming it’s a normal day. I’ve made a little list of some of the things that must be done by Wednesday afternoon. It’s 14 tasks long and some of them are quite hefty tasks.

The question is, why Wednesday?

I’ve talked about the Royal Commission into Antisemitism and Social Cohesion at great length, but I didn’t mention the other one. I’m giving my testimony as part of a group testimony on Wednesday afternoon. It’s into disability. I tick all the “Who has been left out in our current system” box.

I’m not doing a written submission for this. My right eye is problematic and my vision is even more impaired than usual, so it would be a lot harder than the earlier submissions. But the RC into disabilities is allowing for such things and a group of us is being brought together online to work through the framework and explain the things the Commission needs to know about our lives.

I’ve never done things for two Royal Commissions within six months before. I had a whole submission published and cited in the report for one, many years ago. They’re not an ordinary part of our lives, but they’re one of the places and times when we can interface with government on issues that are beyond the ordinary. They are terrifyingly expensive, but they’re also exceptionally valuable. Even when the government in power pretends to accept the outcomes of a Commission and never does anything, the process shifts Australia and makes us choose our paths more carefully. Initially, the RC into Antisemitism caused a tsunami of hate, but as people saw that tsunami and thought it through, I think the hate is diminishing a little. I won’t know, however, until the studies of it are in.

If I remember and if it’s not classified, next week I’ll let you know what happened on Wednesday. The government methods of other countries always entertain me, so maybe they will also entertain some of you.

If any of you would like a 101 on our parliamentary system and an explanation of how we vote, I’m happy to explain. We are so different from the US and Canada! And all this stuff used to be my meat and drink. Being Jewish excludes me from those circles right now, but I had 20 years of working to help people within the system and I loved it.

To a Good and Sweet New Year

personby Gillian Polack
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We in one of those times when it’s not easy being Jewish and not always safe, either. And yet, the new Jewish year began on Friday evening. How do Jews get through times like this? Where it’s possible, food helps. This year I[‘m sharing my family’s most made honey cake recipes, in the hopes that the good and sweet year will spread. These recipes create much goodness and also much sweetness. They’re at their best cut into small pieces and enrobed in really good dark chocolate… but they’re never not good.
The recipes are mostly metric, being Australian.
I use the first recipe as a guide and change it considerably. I use real coffee instead of instant coffee and boiling water, for instance. This year I sued grapeseed oil, other years I might use a but oil. For one cake I used blood orange. And I added my homemade candied dekopon peel. For me, each and every eyar is different and I want the incoming year to be good and sweet and enver boring.

GRANDMABLACK’S JEWISH NEW YEAR HONEY CAKE (GILLIAN’S VERSION)

Ingredients:

500 g honey (or a bit less)
1 cup sugar
1 ½ cups plain flour
1 ½ cups SR flour
juice and rind of one orange (a nice big one – but you can replace some of the juice with brandy or other alcohol)
at least two heaped tbs. good, rich cooking chocolate (not too sweet)
1 dessertspoon instant coffee
approx. 1 cup oil (a salad oil is best, but not olive)
3-4 extra large eggs
½ tsp. vanilla
1 tsp. bicarbonate of soda
1 cup boiling water
about a cup of your favourite dried fruits and nuts (chopped)
1 tsp. of cinnamon, ginger, allspice, nutmeg and a taste of cloves (NOT 1 tsp. of each)

Method:

Beat eggs, sugar, oil and honey. Add orange rind and juice. Add spices. Sift both flours with soda. Add to liquids. Add chocolate, coffee, vanilla, fruit and nuts. Mix well. Add boiling water.

Pre-heat oven to 500°F. When you put the cake in, reduce heat to 350°F. After and hour, reduce heat again, to 300°F until the cake is done (normally another 15-20 minutes).

Cool on greaseproof paper. Store in an airtight tin, preferably in the fridge. The cake will keep for weeks this way – if you can keep greedy fingers away from it.

HONEY CAKE (THE OTHER GRANDMOTHER’S RECIPE)

Ingredients

1 lb honey
1 ¼ cups plain flour
1 small cup sugar
2 eggs
1 small cup oil or melted butter
1 tsp cocoa
1 tsp mixed spice
1 tsp cinnamon
a heaped tsp bicarbonate of soda

Method

Melt the honey and sugar over a low flame. When the are cold, add the eggs (which should be well-beaten first – a form of domestic discipline), the oil and the remaining ingredients. Put the bicarbonate of soda in last.

Pour into a well-greased cake tin and bake in a moderate oven for 1 ½ hours.

My Space

personby Gillian Polack
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Last week on Facebook, Yaritji Green asked the history of the space I live in. I answered her post directly, and then I realised some of you might be interested, so I’m copying it here.

“I live on Ngunnawal land*, currently owned by the Federal Government and managed by the ACT Government. I don’t own any land, but I lease the space along with many others. I don’t even own the structure of the building – I am part of a body corporate. I own the possessions in my flat, though, and so that flat is my space, even though it’s on the land of others
It was first taken from the Ngunnawal people by farmers and the occasional bushranger. The family that farmed this particular valley is still in the region and one of their ancestors wrote the first Australian Gothic novel. So this valley has consistently been science fictional since White settlement. Then the government took it, when we Federated and the regional was made into the capital.
This space has layers. The most ancient is the geological with a faultline running alongside my flat. Until quite recently, this was part of the Bogong Trail, for corroboree near Yankee hat in the Brindies**, so that was the most stable layer for humans. I don’t know how long the Bogong Trail was used or enough about other uses of this little valley, but we have clear evidence of it being 900+ years, in some paintings near Yankee Hat. My block of flats is the most recent layer. It was built in the 70s, before self-government in Canberra, and my flat was owned by the builder of the whole complex and then by a young couple and then by me. it still had the 70s carpet and kitchen when I moved in.
This has been my place since 1991. Me and my books.”
I am now remembering… the first thing that comes to mind is an Auntie (I won’t use her name because she’s no longer around, but it’s the same first name as the poor child who was murdered last December) who taught my Israeli dance class the dances of this country. Specifically this country: she was a Ngunnawal elder and these were her tradition. She was willing to teach us women’s business, but young Irwin refused to recuse himself.
“You can teach me anything,” he said.
“You’re male,” Auntie said, “And so you deny everyone the learning.” and so we only learned the dances.
Irwin explained his view to me afterwards. In his world, he had the right to learn everything. Mind you, in his world, also, he was a missionary. Totally lovely, and very very Christian.
I remember three steps, but I do them very badly.
One of the things I’d like to do this year is get to one of the bush tucker workshops at the National Museum. Since I cannot do this without a friend who has a car, I’d love to hear from anyone who’d like to do this with me. I can cook using local foodstuffs, but I only know them as adaptations of European foodways and they’re a lot more than that. I need to re-learn from someone with the right knowledge and that is (among others) a guy who does workshops for the national Museum.
For me, living anywhere requires constant (and respectful) learning. I wish the same applies to those who hate. It’s been bad this week.
*Canberra, Australia, just in case a reminder helps.
**Canberra slang for the Brindabellas, a local mountain range. If you know Miles Franklin’s My Brilliant Career, this is where she grew up. Mt Aggie is named after her aunt Agnes.

Is it Still Monday in California?

personby Gillian Polack
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I’m so late today that I’m (almost) posting on your tomorrow… which was my tomorrow over 15 hours ago. It’s been a busy day and was a busy yesterday and I’m so tired that I want to use colloquialisms. I shall refrain, because Australian colloquialisms can read as rather rude to North Americans.

Yesterday afternoon I finished with my end of the proofs of the forthcoming novel, then I went to a book launch. Then I had an online meeting and we updated each other on antisemitism. There were other things, too, but I forget. I did all this with the eye problems and every minute the world felt funky.

This morning was a grocery delivery and an emergency printout of stuff for a friend (at which point my printer failed) and we have a weather shift (it being spring here) and so my joints reminded me they hate weather. All my joints. Why the little toe aching is more annoying than the back aching is something I cannot work out.

I ought to be celebrating receiving copies of the German translation of one of my favourite short stories. There is an academic comment on my sense if humour, so my sense of humour is officially an academic thing now. In German academia. This is important, because a French translation of another story, a while back, turned all the subtlety into sarcasm and the story was not funny at all.
I’m also giving a workshop for ConSYDeration in two weeks. ConSYDeration is part of the Sydney Fringe Festival and this is my first time even getting to the Fringe. Which means, of course, my next thing is to update my handout for the workshop because I forgot to add my list of publications. It’s not gratuitous advertising this time round – my non-fiction is directly relevant to the workshop.

And all this is why, in a few minutes, I’m going to make a cuppa and watch some William Hartnell Doctor Who for a bit. I have so much to do but my body tells me to be gentle. I might put a bit of cinnamon in my tea. Later I’ll do more of the things.

I have been considering my New year, which is way soon. If anyone wants either or both of my grandmothers’ honey cake recipes here, next week, just say and I will oblige.

Old People Aren’t the Problem

personby Nancy Jane Moore
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The New York Times has an interview with Morgan Freeman, who is 89 – he in fact says “pushing 90” – and still working. At the moment he’s got a regular role on a streaming series.

I am a sucker for all reports about people who are older than I am and still pursuing their art or their career or doing something else that we’re all told is “unusual” for old people. I want to be reminded that getting old doesn’t mean you have to stop doing stuff and just wait around to die.

But there’s a hell of a lot of ageism out there right now and it’s really starting to get on my nerves. The other day I saw a social media post excoriating James Carville’s ideas about what Democrats should do and then saying something that I read as “oh, well, he’s 81 and gonna die soon anyway.”

I got the impression that the person who wrote just thought 81 was horribly old, not that they knew anything about Carville’s health.

Now I despise Carville. His ideas about what Democrats should do are awful; he’s the original “compromise with the Republicans no matter how extreme they get” person. I actually go to the trouble of cancelling political solicitations that mention his name, instead of just ignoring them. The Democrats made a major mistake by listening to him in the first place.

But he’s been wrong for at least 30 years, and probably longer. He thinks politics is a fucking game. After all, he’s married to a Republican consultant. Obviously he doesn’t think any of this is really vital – he just wants to win a game.

The problem isn’t that he’s old. It’s that he’s wrong. He’s always been wrong.

And when you blame it on his age, you give him a pass for all the terrible things he’s done for years. Continue reading “Old People Aren’t the Problem”…

Gefilte fish and chicken and being Jewish in Australia

personby Gillian Polack
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I am currently adding recipes to my Patreon page, and thought that this little piece might be of interest to everyone here.

Growing up as an Orthodox Jew (Modern Orthodox, Australian Orthodox – more interested in learning, community and food than in matters religious, unless we could argue about them – my favourite argument will always be how kangaroo can be seen as potentially kosher) in Australia is a most extraordinary thing. For one thing, it doesn’t matter how many generations your family has been in the country, too many people assume that you are a recent arrival, simply because you are Jewish. Some even try to spot an Israeli accent. In my case, this is very imaginative of them.

The classic case of this was at a New Year’s Eve party in Canberra. I was in a group of people, one of whom had recently taken out citizenship. We were talking about where our folks came from, and when, as one so often does. We were all very open about our origins, religions and background. We also had a lengthy discussion about date of arrival. Of the group, my family was the earliest arrival by at least one generation, and the new citizen’s was the most recent. My family started coming here about 150 years earlier than hers. After a bit (conversations can be very long on New Year’s Eve) we turned to weddings. The new citizen turned to me and asked intently, “What would your parents do if you married an Australian?”

A nasty reminder (well before the present thrum of hate) that Jews are somehow considered different, even in a very tolerant country was when I was nine years old, and was personally accused of killing Christ. At the time I was very bewildered, because I knew who he was and when he lived, and I also knew that I was nine years old. I could not reconcile the contradictions, so I nursed the puzzle until I had antisemitism sorted out sufficiently that I could deal with it. What I asked at the time was “Does this mean I invent time travel?”

What has this to do with cooking? Well, one thing that regular hints of prejudice does is to drive one to reconsider. I have friends who, when discriminated against, or subtly insulted, reject their past and tried to “fit in”. That is a legitimate decision, but has never been a road I have followed. Nor has it been a road my parents followed. What we do when faced with “not belonging” is to strongly reassert our complex cultural identity. That is to say we share it. And the easiest way to convince someone that to be Jewish is still to be human is to feed everyone in sight. After all, everyone eats, even if our religions are a bit different.

If the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, then a way to a person’s cultural appreciation follows the same route. People around me are forcibly introduced to Judaism. You know the method. It is stark and awful. Eat this chicken soup! Have a kosher chocolate! Try one of my Mum’s famous biscuits, after all, it is Passover next week!

That is the skeleton in the closet, the dread reason for me handing out food to everyone in my vicinity. It’s sort of nice to be thought a human being, and food definitely helps smooth the way. Mind you, the food can end up taking over your life. I no longer feed people to convince them I’m human. I feed people because I’ve fallen in love with feeding people. And the great thing is that many friends return the favour.

That’s the skeleton in the closet and explains why one whole tier of my Patreon contains recipes and food stories. It also explains why I was once a pro blogger. The skeleton under the bed is a different matter. As well as studying history at university, I studied some archaeology, so Mum let me have her old skeleton (not the one inside her, but the one she used before she dropped out of medicine). I called it George and I called it Yorick, depending on which head I was using. A skeleton with two skulls is very useful for understanding mandibular articulation. And, since my bedroom at this time was 5’3” by 7’, the only storage place was under the bed.

To get back to food (which neither George nor Yorick was/were, not having been kosher at any stage in his/their spotted past – the spots were some sort of mould, Mum suggested, but dissuaded me from running tests) my family demonstrates that minor prejudice can lead to the most wonderful, food-based friendships. That’s a good reason for a whole chapter on it in this book. This is the food that led to the friendships which make up the rest of the book. Isn’t there a children’s rhyme that goes something like that?

My father’s mother’s cooking was very Anglo-Australian. Mum says that her favourite desserts were blancmange, jelly, icecream or stewed fruit. Her standard Sunday dinner was soup (mostly “Jewish penicillin” ie chicken soup), a roast of lamb plus three vegetables, salad, with fruit and icecream for dessert. As you can see by the dairy product at the end, she did not keep kosher. She also followed the Anglo at the expense of the Jewish – I was brought up with Friday night dinners of the same menu (sometimes the lamb was replaced by chicken or beef, and the icecream was always replaced by a non-dairy dessert) with the leftovers for Saturday lunch. This was the natural compromise between Dad’s Anglo upbringing and Mum’s strong Continental Jewish tradition.

Mum was in tears when Dad proposed to her and said, magnanimously, that he was prepared to tolerate a kosher kitchen, as long as it was “done properly”. He was very good at keeping the rules once he started, even though he wickedly told people about an atheist friend who “knew he was Jewish because he could not bear to drink a glass of milk after his ham sandwich”.

This post would be lost without recipes. Let me share my family gelfilte fish recipe, and its very important alternate.

 

GEFILTE FISH

I have, alas, been unable to try out or even taste test this recipe. I am also told I’d be a lot nicer as a person if only I had been able to eat gefilte fish when I was young.  How I obtained it was by asking my grandmother. She explained it in detail, went away, made gefilte fish, then updated her explanation.

Ingredients

minced fish (use three different types of white fish – Grandma’s standard varieties are Murray Perch, garfish and mullet – she says to avoid anything pink. My suggestion is that if you get tuna or something then just put frills around the plate holding the pale rose gefilte fish and serve it as the Barbara Cartland variation)

eggs

fine matzah meal (made of ground-up matzo – unleavened bread – a yeast free bread that tastes like very bland dried biscuits, but is brilliant to cook with.)

 

Method

Mix minced fish with eggs and matzah meal and knead until firm. For proportions, what you want is a firm-ish mixture that holds its shape when you knead it. Start with the fish, then add eggs and matzah meal until it is a smooth, heavy paste (a damp, dumpling like consistency). Let stand a while.

Mince again, and mould into balls. Flour hands with fine matzah meal between each shaping.

In a big saucepan, place fish bones, topped by sliced onions and carrots. Add water. Bring to the boil. Add the fish balls, one at a time (use a spoon and be very gentle). Keep the broth on a slow boil until the fish is cooked through. Season to taste.

 

What does a good Aussie Jewish family do at Passover when several loud-voiced members have nasty fish allergies? Grandma makes them gefilte chicken, and everyone prods me under the table and asks “Where do you think Grandma got her three types of chicken from, eh?” My ribs were fragile the first night she served this delicacy, as almost every family member had the same idea and dug me in the ribs to emphasise their pungent wit. Gefilte chicken goes excellently with pickles and a bit of salad.

GEFILTE CHICKEN

Ingredients

take 2 chicken breasts and mince (if you don’t want this to look traditional and white, you can just use chicken mince – but the fat content may make them shrink; if you are using mince, I suggest 400 g and medium sized egg)

2 large eggs

salt

pepper

chicken stock

 

Method

Mix all dry ingredients and let stand a while. If the mixture is at all liquid add fine matzo meal to stiffen it. Make into balls using at least a tbs of mixture at a time (coat your hands with matzo meal to stop the mixture sticking).

Bring chicken stock to the boil, then lower the heat and place balls gently in the broth. Let cook gently, with the saucepan covered. Test to see when cooked (should take around 45 minutes).