All posts by Michael Burge

Journalist, author, artist

Dymphna Cusack & Florence James – literary chicks

YARN SPINNERS Dymphna Cusack and Florence James (Photo: University of Melbourne Archives).
YARN SPINNERS Dymphna Cusack and Florence James, working at Dymphna’s dictaphone (Photo: University of Melbourne Archives).

A Writer has another look at an Australian classic.

LITERARY analysis of the Blue Mountains in NSW tends to focus, perhaps a little too much, on the works of Eleanor Dark and Norman Lindsay, the enduring foundation for writers which bears her name, and the iconic gallery featuring his.

Other writers’ works also emerged from the cool climate heights of the region, in fact one of Australia’s most popular and enduring novels was written in the tiny town of Hazelbrook, in a home which never became a writers’ retreat.

The story behind its creation is the story of two women, their daughters and niece, who escaped the wartime city in order to live and write, and in doing so, created a literary milestone…

This article was published in the June-July 2011 edition of Blue Mountains Life.

Come Home Spinner

The Hazelbrook tenants who created Australian Chick Lit.

In the aftermath of the Japanese attack on Sydney Harbour in May-June of 1942, Sydneysiders woke-up to the reality of imminent attack, and many headed for the Blue Mountains to ‘see out’ the war.

With two generations of men fighting in Europe, job opportunities for women were on the increase, and the city was flooded with American troops. Right in the thick of this changing world, two writers — Dymphna Cusack (1902-1981) and Florence James (1902-1993) — rekindled the friendship they’d started as undergraduates at Sydney University in the 1920s.

Florence had been ‘caught by the war’ in Sydney with daughters Julie and Frances while on a visit from London, and Dymphna was living with her sister and family at Coogee. In spring, 1944, the women hatched an escape plan of their own: to write full-time in the sleepy Blue Mountains village of Hazelbook.

Dymphna had retired early from teaching, suffering with multiple sclerosis. Florence needed a place to live while her husband Pym served in Europe. Combining Cusack’s small pension and periodic literary grants with Florence’s ‘allotment’ from Pym, in January, 1945, the families moved to ‘Pinegrove’ on the south side of Hazelbrook.

In this unassuming fibro cottage with views to the Sydney basin, James’ and Cusack’s ruminations on literature and social justice gave birth to the first international bestseller to present contemporary Australian women to the world.

They started with a children’s book — Four Winds and a Family — created in autumn, 1945.

An allegorical telling of the adventurous episodes of the Pinegrove residents, complete with writers Tess and Topsy (Florence and Dymphna), and youngsters Fan (Frances), Jay (Julie) and Dee (Dymphna’s neice, also called Dymphna), and various cats, goats and other animals, the book maps their ever-growing world of friendly neighbours and unfriendly school teachers.

NAN KNOWLES
FAMILY PICTURES Nan Knowles’ illustrations show an allegorised Florence and Dymphna.

They commissioned Nan Knowles to illustrate and sent the manuscript to a publisher the same year. Knowles’ work included a naive map (eventually the front endpaper) illustrating the part-real part-fantasy realm of Four Winds. It’s an enduring symbol of the secure world mother and aunt sought for daughters and niece at Pinegrove.

Emboldened by their success in juvenile fiction, Florence and Dymphna soon embarked on their magnum opus, the book they’d been talking into existence ever since leaving the city: Come in Spinner.

“We picked everyone’s brains,” Florence recalled when interviewed by Marilla North (editor of Yarn Spinners – A Story in Letters the letters of Dymphna Cusack, Florence James and Miles Franklin).

“Everyone” included local cleaning help Mrs Catherine Elliot (who regaled the authors about the realities of working as a barmaid in the inner city); and Blue Mountains Mayor Tom Walford (who explained the rules of popular gambling game ‘Two-Up’ in which ‘Come in Spinner’ is the call ending all bets before two pennies are spun).

Through the author’s letters, Marilla North was able to pinpoint the exact day that work on Come in Spinner began at Hazelbrook – Monday July 30, 1945, only a fortnight before the end of the Pacific War.

“Addressing issues like abortion, rape and prostitution, Cusack and James’ second collaboration placed female protagonists in the real world.”

“It took us two-and-a-half years to write,” Florence explained, “we didn’t write by each exclusively developing one character’s story. If one of us had an inspiration about it then she’d do that bit of the writing. Then everything had to be interwoven”.

“We worked five days a week when the kids were at school. At the weekends we had friends up and kept in touch with what was going on in Sydney. We went down there occasionally and very reluctantly…” Florence said.

In order to write without causing pain to her hands, Dymphna made use of a dictaphone she nick-named ‘Delphi’ (probably a reference to the Delphic Oracle in ancient Greece into which prayers were whispered). Tom Walford arranged for local typist Joan Gray to produce manuscripts from Cusack’s reels.

The story of a trio of resident beauticians at the fictitious Marie Antoinette salon of the Hotel South Pacific, Come in Spinner explores their lives and relationships against a cross section of Sydney’s working and elite classes.

Seen objectively, beauticians Deb, Claire and Guinea are the natural evolution of the three girls in Four Winds and a Family, placed in a world much less secure, with no map to guide them save whatever moral compass their upbringing had given them.

Each of the women takes a journey through wartime Sydney, juxtaposed against the innocence that came before shortages and the black market, and a new world of gaining an advantage by any means.

In Four Winds and a Family the breeze is never strong enough to blow the girls into too much trouble, whereas Come in Spinner suggests life’s fortunes can be decided in a gamble. Addressing issues like abortion, rape and prostitution, Cusack’s and James’ second collaboration placed female protagonists in the real world, making it hot property even before publication.

Entered anonymously into The Daily Telegraph’s novel prize of 1946, the families remained at Pinegrove while the authors edited their manuscript. In 1947, the cottage was sold, meaning eviction by June, even as editing continued.

Florence and her daughters sailed for England to be with Pym. A separation of almost a decade (apart from occasional leave visits) saw the marriage unable to survive the reunion. Dymphna moved back to Sydney and continued work on other novels, sailing for Europe herself in 1949.

HOME SPUN First edition cover (1951).
HOME SPUN First edition cover (1951).

Come in Spinner eventually won The Daily Telegraph award but was never granted the promised publication, considered too controversial for Australian release. The authors were awarded the thousand-pound prize, but had to extricate their work from the newspaper for Florence to offer it to publishers in the United Kingdom.

The William Heinemann company published Come in Spinner in 1951. It proved an instant international bestseller after a series of rave reviews in the United Kingdom and has never been out of print.

With its cast of female protagonists, and its omission from most literary criticism (despite an enduring popularity), the novel ranks amongst the first true examples of Chick Lit in the world.

In deference to regular Pinegrove visitor and the author of My Brilliant Career, Come in Spinner was dedicated to the woman whom Dymphna Cusack described as the godmother of the collaboration – Miles Franklin (1879-1954).

The drawn-out publication and success of Come in Spinner has tended to overshadow the other works which came out of Pinegrove. Two other novels by Dymphna Cusack (Say No to Death, exploring the affliction of tuberculosis, researched in part at Bodington TB sanatorium in Wentworth Falls where one of Dymphna’s friends was a patient; and Southern Steel, set in the industrial city of Newcastle) were substantially written while at Hazelbrook.

Another collaboration of sorts was Caddie – the story of a Barmaid written by the woman who came once a week for laundry and chat – Catherine Elliot. It was Dymphna and Florence who suggested to Elliot that she write her memoir in her own ‘voice’. Dymphna edited the manuscript, assisted Elliot in finding a publisher, and wrote the forward for the novel which became a classic and a popular movie in 1976.

In her capacity as an editor and literary agent, Florence James encouraged two further generations of female Australian authors, including Mary Durack and Nancy Phelan.

Unknown
Justine Clarke and Rebecca Gibney in the ABC’s production of Come in Spinner (1989).

Come in Spinner was adapted as a mini series by the ABC in 1989. Times had changed enough for an unabridged version of the novel to be published in Australia by Angus and Robertson.

Dymphna had died in 1981, after spending three decades travelling and writing, mainly abroad, which meant Florence was tasked with editing controversial sections of the collaborative work which were removed before publication in the 1950s.

Pinegrove still stands at Hazelbrook, although its original acre is somewhat diminished by development and many of its pines are gone. It was renamed ‘Four Winds’ after becoming the home of Sheryl and Geoff Smith three decades ago.

There are traces of the literary hotbed the home was in the 1940s – the wall where Florence and Dymphna pinned-up a plan of the plot, characters and eight-day storyline of Come in Spinner is still there, off the sizeable living room which attracted the women to the house for their growing girls. The same room inspired Geoff and Sheryl to buy the house on first inspection.

The autumn weekday afternoon of my visit comes with an almost complete silence which must have been a godsend for a pair of writers, nestled as the place is away from the highway and railway.

Sheryl shares with me a copy of Four Winds and a Family given to her son by Florence James herself, who revisited the home for the making of a documentary not long before her death. On the fly leaf, a dedication reads: “A happy life at ‘Pinegrove’ – where Dee, Jay and Fan used to live – also did Tess – Florence James.”

‘Tess’ had come home, but what about ‘Topsy’?

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“Why oh why did we leave Pinegrove?” Dymphna wrote to Florence, on the brink of an international career which took off in a cottage in Hazelbrook. It is not known if she ever returned.

Extracts from Yarn Spinners – A Story in Letters edited by Marilla North (published with the permission of University of Queensland Press). Now available in a collector’s edition.

© Michael Burge, all rights reserved.

This article appears in Michael’s eBook Pluck: Exploits of the single-minded

Whose eye is on the sparrow?

WHO'S WATCHING WHO Do animals have souls?
WHO’S WATCHING WHO Do animals have souls?

A Writer argues for his dog’s soul.

I LOST my eldest dog at the weekend. Olive was my constant companion for fifteen years.

Without her, our household is a little lost. It’s because we live as a pack, and one of us is missing, buried in the corner of the backyard, a tree where once the old lady made her daily wobbly journeys following the patches of sun across the grass.

Tully, our other dog, has that questioning look. Richard’s home from work early with hay fever that won’t budge. I’m just floating along in denial, glad of any distraction.

On the day Olive died, I was drawn to my bookshelf in search of my old copy of Richard Adams’ Watership Down (1972). I was of the generation who loved not only the book, but also the animated film of this tale of the survival of a warren of rabbits in the English countryside.

220px-Movie_poster_watership_down

Long before I came to understand its Holocaust metaphors, I also suspect this book coloured some of my views of animals, and mortality.

An expatriate farm boy, I became a vegetarian at the age of 15. I knew exactly how animal products were manufactured from a very young age, but I wanted to remove myself from a marketplace which still widely rests on the suffering of animals.

Because I could see plainly that animals are, like us, sentient beings. Our dairy cow would come to our call, but she would flinch at barbed wire. The retired sheepdogs were our companions, but I remember the cries as Gertie gave birth to her pups. Feral kittens in the shearing shed were fun to play with, but their confusion as they were killed-off by ticks still haunts me a little.

Naively, I thought my stand against suffering would be seen as courageous, but coming out as a non-meat-eater in my teens was an eye-opener.

In my religious school environment I endured lectures from adults about how uncivilised humans would be unless we’d eaten meat. Any respect for an animal’s welfare was perceived as weak. They were simply a soulless commodity.

But my history classes suggested civilisation as we know it did not come about until humans ceased wandering and began farming grains in one place. Archaeology showed animals were revered and even worshipped, imbued with souls no less capable of transitioning into an afterlife as humans.

Dogs were an integral part of those early communities, drawn to the fireside by offers of scraps, providing protection from invaders in return.

My resolve was sharpened: I quietly underlined that eating animal flesh, and animal suffering, do not have to go hand-in-hand.

Once we start down a pathway to animal suffering, the next step is inevitably the suffering of humans. The Nazis were inspired to herd people into train carriages for transportation to concentration camps by the same practice being used on livestock. That’s what makes Watership Down so believable, and not merely a story for children about rabbits.

LIVE TRANSPORT Interior of a boxcar used to transport people in World War Two (Photo: US Holocaust Memorial).
LIVE TRANSPORT Interior of a boxcar used to transport people in World War Two (Photo: US Holocaust Memorial).

I find little solace in religion. Christianity offers many allusions to animals, often symbolic – the wolf laying down with the lamb, and, from the book of Matthew, references to God’s care of even the smallest sparrow.

I love gospel music, and “His Eye is on the Sparrow” (1905) is a favourite, but buried in the lines is an exhortation to think ourselves more than animals.

So I return to literature. Alice Sebold’s revelatory portrayal of the afterlife in The Lovely Bones (2002) contains a passage in which Susie, the main character, sights the family dog:

“At evensong one night, while Holly played her sax and Mrs. Bethel Utemeyer joined in, I saw him: Holiday, racing past a fluffy white Samoyed. He had lived to a ripe old age on Earth and slept under my father’s feet after my mother left, never wanting to let him out of his sight … I waited for him to sniff me out, anxious to know if here, on the other side, I would still be the little girl he has slept beside. I did not have to wait long: he was so happy to see me, he knocked me down.”

“Having experienced the unconditional love of a dog, I strongly suspect that the songs need rewriting.”

Knowing what was coming as Olive aged, I called her The Lovely Bones, whispering it into her ear as I carried her increasingly skeletal form up the back stairs in the dark after her dinner. She never gave up trying to climb them herself – such was the courage she showed in her desire to sit with us in the evening.

Olive protected us well, in the unseen territory of the heart. I can offer no proof that dogs have evolved after millennia of living with humans, apart from the love they show through their actions.

I remember the very moment she transitioned from puppy to watch-dog; the love she taught a flatmate who needed herding back to the hearth; the solace and constancy she showed me after my partner Jono died, and the courageous way she demanded I snap out of it when my grief saw her and Tully so neglected they both had fleas, ear-mites and knotted coats that needed my attention.

Faced with having to help her in her ultimate transition, my memories of the death of Richard Adam’s lapine protagonist, Hazel, were already in my fibre.

HAZEL'S JOURNEY from Watership Down (1978).
HAZEL’S JOURNEY from Watership Down (1978).

So, I’ll admit it, I called on souls already departed to come, like the Stranger did for Hazel in Watership Down.

“It seemed to Hazel that he would not be needing his body any more, so he left it lying on the edge of the ditch … (the Stranger) reached the top of the bank in a single, powerful leap. Hazel followed, and together they slipped away …”

Having experienced the unconditional love of a dog, I strongly suspect that the songs need rewriting: his eye is not on the sparrow, the sparrow’s eye is on him.

OLIVE'S LEAP
OLIVE’S LEAP

© Michael Burge, all rights reserved.

Plotting to win

BATTLE LINES "Who do you think you are kidding ..." if you don't write with a well structured plot?
BATTLE LINES “Who do you think you are kidding …” if you don’t write with a well structured plot?

Plot: 1. A secret plan or scheme to accomplish some purpose, especially a hostile, unlawful, or evil purpose: a plot to overthrow the government. 2. Also called storyline.

This week I am feeling like a legend, because I’ve completed the first draft of a novel.

For three-and-a-half years I have religiously slogged away at this piece of work, and I have barely reread a word of it for fear of giving up and not completing the task.

Along the way I have made a study of the elements of good storytelling, particularly plotting, and how it can be applied for the benefit of entertaining the reader/viewer.

Now, faced with editing and rewriting my own work, I have created the following toolkit for myself, which I hope may be a help to other writers. But, a warning: This toolkit is not for writers who don’t care about entertaining their readers.

Creative rules are meant to be stretched, that’s what I call being original, but remember, even Picasso, one of the 20th century’s greatest abstract artists, could utilise realistic composition as well as any traditional old master. He knew the rules before he broke them.

I have transposed my research into battle parlance because compelling stories are not about people sitting around contemplating their navels in isolation, they are about conflicts, winners and losers. The Catcher in the Rye is as much of a battle as Gone With the Wind, and I guess ‘plot’ has two meanings for a reason!

Plot_Skeleton_photo_FINALIZED

The five-act dramatic structure

The narrative hook – announcing a war!
On page one, grab attention by extrapolating why your war is worth telling. Prevent readers/viewers from putting your book down or finding another movie in the multiplex. See my post on the Sh%t, click moment.

Act One – an exposition describes both armies, and the battle lines
Introduce us to the characters and show who is the protagonist (the hero) and the antagonist (the anti-hero, or ‘villain’). The protagonist must be called to action, posing a question so interesting that we are gripped: Can they possibly win?

Act Two – rising actions show the armies testing one another’s strength
A series of events unfolds in which the antagonist puts obstacles in the pathway of the protagonist, events that show us who both of them really are. These might result in minor skirmishes between the two armies.

Act Three – the climax starts the battle, and the combatants charge!
The climax must show the start of the major battle between the protagonist and the antagonist, including a devastating point of no return, after which there is no going back for either.

Act Four – falling actions show one army losing
The battle between the protagonist and the antagonist continues, allowing one of them to win. The winner defines the piece as a comedy or a tragedy.

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Act Five – The dénouement ends the battle, but not the war
Everything that created this battle unravels (dénouement means ‘to untie’), or dissipates, or is resolved. In a comedy, the protagonist is left better off than when they started. In a tragedy, this is reversed. The big question posed in the exposition must be left answered.

Good luck with your plotting!

© Michael Burge, all rights reserved.

An extract from Write, Regardless!