Category Archives: Society

Through a Glass Mission Brown: Cosmo, “Paper Giants” & the 70s

Over the last two nights ABC television has presented a semi-fictional drama based on the advent of the woman’s magazine ‘Cleo’ in the Australian publishing market of the early 1970s. “Paper Giants” depicted in what many would consider to be a romanticized fashion the early career of Ita Buttrose and her tempestuous employers, the Packers (Sir Frank and Kerry). In itself an entertaining piece of TV, unlike the more lightweight brethren of the Australian TV drama world (i.e. commercial soap operas)  this two-parter not only tried to keep the viewers focused for a tick over three hours on the episodes, it also tried to resonate historically plus give some kind of social insight into the various issues it portrayed (women’s rights, sexual discourse, the pressures of work on families, etc).

Overall, from my amateur, child of the 70s, male perspective I think “Paper Giants” was an enjoyable piece of television and yet marginally of value as an interpretation of the changes underpinning Australian society and history at that time (i.e. the pre-Fraser years). However some of the themes appeared to be historically muddied or too narrow in focus, relying too much on the self-appointed importance of ‘Cleo’. Also the underlying premise, that the beginnings of a woman’s magazine run by Ita Buttrose and the Packers could provide a unique and telling insight into Australia as it was then seems to me at best a problematic position.

Taking the last point first, is the story of the ACP’s radical answer to ‘Cosmopolitan’ a solid entry point for a TV drama to examine what Australia was like in the early 70s? In all honesty no, and this isn’t the fault of the show’s producers. At the risk of taking the higher and broader approach favoured by historians of yore the most telling way to understand what was happening in Australia to Australians before and during the events of the 1975 dismissal is through the story of Gough Whitlam and his federal Labor government of 1972-1975. “Paper Giants” attempted to reflect itself against Gough’s rise and fall, showing the younger staff on ‘Cleo’ firmly behind Whitlam’s spirit of the times if not his policies, whereas the character of Kerry Packer was seen as representative of much of the old conservative business establishment of the time, writing of the ALP government as economic wreckers. However the technique of using a ‘people’s level’ standpoint to look at grand sweeping social and historical changes can only go so far. Just as one wouldn’t use ‘War and Peace’ to understand Napoleon’s 1912 invasion of Russia or “The Sullivans” to understand World War Two, “Paper Giants” is more a series of vignettes about Whitlam-era Australia. To get a far more useful and telling insight through a TV drama on the times that were arguably the most tempestuous of the last 50 years of the twentieth century the first and best option always will be “The Dismissal”:

Portraying the differences in how young Australian women dressed, found out about sex toys or struggled to find a balance between work and family as was done in ‘Paper Giants” is arguably too superficial, too focused on trivial minutiae of day to day life, or even non-specific to the era. The gender wars, fashion, culinary trends and all those kinds of social issues are always in a state of flux, the difference being the actual things we wore, drank, listened to, watched, played with etc etc. On the other hand the political and social spirit of the Whitlam era is utterly unique and needs to be seen through the two most significant lenses of the time; Kerr’s sacking of the government in 1975 and end of the Vietnam War for Australia by 1973. Both of these issues have been dealt with very successfully by Kennedy-Miller mini-series from the 1980s, and it’s an unfortunate shame that “Paper Giants” can’t tread new steps in the footprints of these programs.

There are other stories about Australia from this era that could also be just as important and just as instructive as to how Australia progressed as a nation and as a society during the 70s which have as yet not been aired. I recall with tremendous clarity another story that perhaps was far more divisive and far more influential, even though it’s origins were hardly nationally important. When Kerry Packer decided that the TV coverage for test cricket in Australia should be his on the Nine Network, and the establishment failed to do what he wanted, the same larger than life media magnate effectively destroyed the establishment of the game internationally, creating the World Series Cricket circus which for 2 years divided loyalties and sparked bitter legal, even diplomatic conflicts. That would be a highly suitable subject for the same kind of production presented in the style of “Paper Giants”.

How about Jack Munday, the BLF and the Green Bans placed on the planned redevelopment of The Rocks in the early 70s? The boat people influx from South East Asia after the Vietnam War? The anti-Kerr protest movement post-1975, perhaps tied in with a postscript on the decline of Gough Whitlam to 1977? A mini-series showing how the single most important youth program on Australian TV grew (i.e. Molly Meldrum’s “Countdown”)? Or a docudrama based on the most controversial soap opera of its time, “Number 96”? Whether from high or low culture, national politics or sport; there are more interesting and arguably just as important stories from Australia’s seventies history that could and should be told on TV in the early 21st century.

The second problem facing “Paper Giants” is the historical veracity of the program and the associated historical significance of “Cleo” itself. There were without doubt some generic accuracies relating to parts of the story. Jack Thompson did pose semi-nude for “Cleo” and at the time he was shacked up with two sisters. Kerry Packer and his brother Clyde did  struggle to deal with their father’s regime and it was true that Mike Willesee was almost the first centrefold for the magazine. However the whole significance of a racy publication that had a smaller circulation than its far more established and conservative stablemate ‘Women’s Weekly’ must be carefully weighted. How important was “Cleo” in depicting sexuality and nudity during the early 70s in Australia contrasted with more popular and arguably more important media as embodied in “Number 96”? For those who shaped Australian business and public policy magazines such as “The Bulletin” and “The National Review” were arguably just as crucial. Men still had access to the old “Australasian Post” which was perhaps just as significant in terms of readership and influencing Aussie male culture as “Cleo” was for women’s culture. Then there were local and imported books ranging from Germaine Greer’s “The Female Eunuch” through to Alex Comfort’s “Joy Of Sex”. “Cleo hardly failed to inspire a culinary or fashion revolution in Australia, insofar as much of the impetus for these changes came from immigrants coming to this country or young Aussies coming back from overseas. Perhaps “Cleo” and the whole Packer/Buttrose collaboration as depicted in “Paper Giants” was most important historically because it was a symptom of the times, not a catalyst or causal agent. And of course journos and publishers are besotted with the idea of being the men and women who shape how society thinks (without understanding sometimes the consumer of the media can make their own mind up without guidance from a sensationalist magazine).

If one was to sit back and let “Paper Giants” do its first and primary job as a television show and entertain the viewer then I think there are far too few current Australian productions that can do what this docudrama did. It may have been 70s History-Lite or Women’s Rights Through Media 101, but it was a good story reasonably well told for an audience which may not have anywhere near the intimacy of knowledge of the subject nor the personal experience to pick huge holes in the narrative’s historicity. As a summation and reflection of a time when Australia changed more radically than it had for generations, tinted with rose colour mini-series glasses it’s was better than to be expected. However like almost all semi-fictional TV or movie adaptations of real events the underlying medium itself as well as the cribbed short cuts in terms of explaining the politics and society of the times means it fails to really inform as well as entertain. By taking its subject too seriously whilst dressing it up in both the fanciful and the vaguely historic it contorts our past for those who weren’t there in ways that aren’t always accurate.

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The Death Of The Bookshop?

As we have hurtled forward through the information revolution several once seemingly integral parts of our day to day life have been consigned to the rubbish bin of history. It’s only about 20 years ago I was reasonably familiar with the use and ubiquity of the telex machine. Microfiche readers were dotted throughout the floors of my university library and I would avail myself to their use regularly. Typewriters, manual or electronic were the basis of all things beyond the handwritten letter when it came to writing, and of course the social form of corresponding to friends and family via the post office now seems an almost dim and forlorn memory.

Now, thanks to the recent financial woes and the demise of the corporate owners of the Borders, Angus & Robertson and Whitcoulls chains much debate has been had over the decline and possibly inevitable fall of the bookshop. The shift away from the traditional form of the book, inherently unchanged since the days of Gutenberg has gathered immense pace in the last decade or so, what with E-Readers, downloadable content from the internet, Google Books, the spoken word book etc etc. Publishers looking to extend profits have moved away from bulk print runs of glossy mass market titles, beginning to reach out to their customers through direct sales or by becoming more specialised in their product and philosophy. Authors can and do become more independent thanks to the likes of Lulu and other self or garage publishing companies, cutting out the middleman to go direct to their reading public. Online stores such as the Book Depository and of course the elephant in the room, Amazon, can build a monolithic stock listing without ever putting up a shop front in the high street or shopping mall.

In summary there is a world of change and hurt for the bookshops we’ve known for years both in terms of the basic product it sells and the sprouting of new rivals, so the question has to be asked; is the bookshop dying? Is the likes of Dymocks on life support, or shall we see the likes of those remaining Borders and A&R stores here in Australia dwindling like refugees on the run from an invading rapacious horde of predators? Having worked in the book game for over twenty two years I still think the bookshop has a life. However to paraphrase Dr ‘Bones’ McCoy from ‘Star Trek’, it’ll be life Jim but not as we know it now.

The first thing all bookshop operators must understand is that the reading public generally do not have the time as we once did to give over to the simple pleasures or the academic rigour of sitting down with a book and pouring over the text. Thanks to the rapid expansion of new media, the demands placed upon those of us in the work force by a far more aggressively anti-social employment environment, a television industry that now spews forth dozens of new channels, more and more pressure to be the engaged parent or hop on the social merry-go-round, travel not to relax but to experience the locals’ lifestyle and many other factors the days when you could tell the world to go hang and stick your head in the latest Patricia Cornwell or spend hours seeking out the nuances in a DH Lawrence novel are dead and buried for most of us. My writing of this blog is but a single simple illustration of this point. Instead of increasing the verbiage online I could be reading that copy of ‘Tristram Shandy’ that has remained unfinished since 1985. The bookshop operator can’t expect his or her product to be as integral a part of our lives as it once was.

Next, the advent of the online/electronic/audio/alternate media form of the book has effectively raised questions about the actual raison d’etre of the book’s form. Why buy something that doesn’t allow you to update it’s contents thanks to the discovery of new information or a faster, better way to access the material? Why read a paperback on the train when you can log in via your IPad to the 3G network and access the same content online with the benefit of electronic addenda integrated into the e-book? Love the idea of picking up the new book from Anthony Bourdain? Well as he has a digital version of that same book available for purchase so you can put it on your personal MP3 player and listen to him read it himself why bother? Haven’t got time to wade through the Penuin Classics edition of ‘Pride and Prejudice’? No worries, you can always watch the Blu-Ray version of the five or six movie or TV productions that can be bought online or even downloaded thanks to to Bittorrent. The actual printed word on paper has become what some would consider laborious old tech that does little more than fill up shelves.

Another issue facing the world of the bookshop operation is the capabilities and interests of the staff and owners of the shops. For decades if not centuries bookshops were owned and operated by people who wanted to make money whilst selling a product that had more than its physical, commercial value as its selling point. A book represents so much more than the sum of its pages. There is the creative spark behind the book, the craft and the intellect that goes into its publication. Then once it is in the store the staff who have the role of selling it were once probably avid readers themselves, understanding that whilst the wages may be low the pleasure taken in finding that one customer who appreciates your recommendation of Boris Akunin or can talk to you about Foucault’s ‘History of Sexuality’ is a real perk of the job.

Sad to say nowadays the bookshops that most people deal with on a semi-regular basis have become soulless places where the same stock is carried across every branch or every outlet and the shop assistant is either too busy doing daily stock takes or chained behind a counter relying on a computer to give them every bit of knowledge they need. For every Abbeys or Gleebooks there has been a dozen A&R, Dymocks, Collins etc etc, and of course the apotheosis of the bookshop as supermarket, Borders. Instead of selling books because it is a passion or a way of life, or something beyond just another box of Corn Flakes or dental hygiene goods, the majority of bricks and mortar bookshops have become generic, disinterested in more than your wallet and selling some knick-knack or loyalty program or online newsletter. Throw in the unrealistic expectations of the investors who think that setting up American style superstores that will arguably stock everything but won’t create the environment where you feel like your interests and your queries will be fielded by a knowledgeable, considerate staff member, who will then shove you onto a self-serve computer interface is the perfect way to make an absolute motza…well there is some seriously fucked up attitudes to bookselling.

Then there is the cost of the book and the availability of it. A bookshop in Australia unfortunately cannot compete on price and availability when it comes to the dogged book buyer’s needs nowadays. If I want the latest Lindsey Davis Falco novel I am more likely to go online and buy from the Book Depository based on price alone. I have consciously shifted my dollar overseas and online because the local book store may sell the same book up to thirty per cent more expensive. Right now with the Aussie dollar buying about $1.05 US and the economies of scale via Amazon mean you can make a huge saving there, why wander into a bookshop when you can get the title you desire probably cheaper and possibly faster?

Now  these are but a selection of some fairly basic problems the bricks and mortar bookshop faces, and it is easy to understand why some are predicting the death of this way of selling and purchasing books. I haven’t even begun to consider publisher margins, authors’ rights, academic bookselling and the changing face of education material across all three levels of schooling. The question is, how do we revive this arguably dying activity?

The first and best option available to all bookshops is to actually try and define who you are and how that relates to your local market. If you are a megaplex designed to be everything to all people then don’t be surprised that you fail. The customers who shop there won’t stay because of loyalty or product knowledge; they will quickly move on to the next big thing that is possibly cheaper or easier to buy from. I’m not going to make a quid carrying thousands of books about sport, cooking and travel if my local returning customers prefer crime and/or graphic novels. For that matter opening any type of bookshop in an area that is economically or socially disadvantaged, or with low literacy levels or poor English will also impede profits. Plus lower your fiscal expectations; show me a man or woman who has made huge amounts of money from selling books from a store in the last decade and I’ll show you a nice way to make a few bucks out of buying the Sydney Opera House. My advice is to find a location that is amenable to the customer you want, not vice versa and then concentrate on squeezing a decent (not ginormous) living from selling either lots of books in bursts (such as at Christmas or in the academic context during enrollments) or lesser quantities to a more stable customer base.

The next thing; don’t be scared of pushing your barrow by being more selective with your product and then integrating the publishers and authors into the process. Wonder why Gleebooks and Abbeys are still in business when Borders Parramatta is closing? It’s because these types of bookshops will carry more learned or more specialised books and then get the authors to engage in launches and book signings on a regular basis. You won’t find cappucino machines and Maxim magazines in these bookshops, but you will find a selection of interesting commentaries from the likes of Noam Chomsky or PJ O’Rourke. When was the last time A&R in your city had a book club session with a major local or visiting author? Brilliant self and/or publishing promoting authors such as Peter FitzSimons has churned out a bucket of books that are popular, and I know that the Dymocks chain has made a decent quid out of getting him and his publishers to tout for business with those bookshops in mind. Same goes for the SBS affiliation that Dymocks has.

Then there is the willingness of some shops to be just the place to go because they are the gurus for one subject. For example, for the hard core military history buff in Sydney they wouldn’t dream of going to Borders to get their fix…it’d be Napoleons or Battlebridge bookshops in the CBD and Parramatta respectively. Small and selective stock holdings combined with interested staff and a decent blend of a browsing and buying environment means they should be able to meet their customer’s expectations. Love your sci-fi in Sydney? It has to be Galaxy Books next door to Abbeys. Manga and illustrated/graphic books? Kinokunya or the Art Gallery of NSW bookshop. Film? Perhaps the ACMI Bookshop in Federation Sqaure, Melbourne. The general purpose bookshop has its place and may continue to exist in lesser numbers; the niche bookseller on the other hand can flourish if again they bring the appropriate level of sales skill, passion, market knowledge and fiscal expectations to the table.

As for the actual question over the physical nature of the book and its possible perception of obsolescence sometimes ‘old tech’ is the best. What’s wrong with the idea of selling a book based on the idea that it is a never changing simple construct? A beautifully bound first edition of something more important than a trashy pop culture novel is going to be a more rewarding product to sell at a higher price than a few e-readers. Or what about emphasizing the  low-tech requirements of the book itself…all you need is eyes, literacy and a light to read it by. No need to download 350 megabytes of updating software. No batteries, no device that might break when drop, can;t be used by a small child or an infirm, technophobe grandparent. A book is at heart an assemblage of ideas, not a gadget that makes the user cool or with it. It can transport you to Periclean Athens or Hogwarts Academy whilst you’re on the toilet, in bed, traveling to work on the train or down the back of the bus on a journey from Brisbane to Perth, and you don’t need to plug it in or change the batteries.

Conversely if there is a customer base for the print on demand or the e-book go down that path, but don’t expect to be called a bookshop as most folk would understand. You are now part of the e-commerce or digital economy, selling something less about books and more about technology. This may attract many younger users (and it may be snobbery but I don’t think these types of customers are ‘readers’, the traditional basis of the bookseller’s market), however they won’t be the kind to engage with your lovingly maintained shelves of Dickens novels. Don’t pretend to be a bookshop when you are in fact an internet cafe with more bookshelves.

Or what about building bridges with clients earlier in their life. The whole ‘Harry Potter…’ phenomenon has seen an explosion in children who read books. Or, as I experienced when I was much, much younger there were book clubs designed to sell children’s novels direct to kids in the school. Why not gather in the children and just as importantly their parents with well managed, carefully selected stock of quality kids book’s that can be looked at in a child friendly environment. Again the margins may not be there to start with, but if you start the child associating pleasure with going to the bookshop then years down the track the adult will feel the same.

I could prattle on, try and divulge some secrets about publisher’s margins or staff conditions in the book trade. That’s not my place nor is it something I fully understand myself. However the above summary of a very complex and long-running issue does I think answer some fairly fundamental questions with soem straight forward answers. The bookshop isn’t dead, nor indeed is the book itself. Price and convenience as well as service levels and market demographics will always shape the casual buyer of books, and they won’t be the ones to form the basis of the sustenance of the bookshop’s continued existence. It will instead be the reader who is encouraged to engage with not just a passionate and informed bookseller but also appreciates what they are doing when they walk into your store that will keep the tills moderately filled with money. Don;t expect to make a killing from this people; respect them as you would the books you sell. And don’t try to be all things to all people; let the Amazons of the book world do that. Instead concentrate on what you care about, what your customers want and the lifestyle that comes with selling and reading books, instead of some monolithic greed-based commercial operation.

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Australia Needs a New Damien Parer

The first Australian film to ever achieve the honour of collecting an Oscar from the American Academy of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences was ‘Kokoda Front Line’ , which shared with three other winners the 1942 Best Documentary award. A Ken G Hall produced and directed feature length newsreel film, this iconic part of Australian cinema and military history relied upon the footage shot by one of our greatest cameramen, Damien Parer. Much like his static film predecessor Frank Hurley and the later Australian combat cameraman Neil Davis Parer was able to combine a true artist’s eye with personal bravery and a connection with his subject, giving Australians a better than expected insight into what happened to men before, during and after battle. There would be hardly any person who has not observed Anzac Day in Australia who would be unfamiliar with iconic images such as this one from ‘Kokoda Front Line’:Parer was able to do something that the founder of the Australian War Memorial and the man who did more than anyone else to create the legend of the Aussie digger, C.E.W. Bean could never do with his words and his official histories. Damien Parer showed not just the people back home but a world wide audience moving images of Australian men fighting a cruel and rapacious enemy. Yes, it may have been propaganda but the work of Damien Parer gave a world wide audience the opportunity to see how Australia was defending what it believed in, and how our soldiers fought and died battling the Axis forces. Arguably consigned to a certain anonymity whilst operating with the British in the European and North African theatres of war, the men of the AIF (as well as those of the RAN and RAAF) were properly given their own cinematic face in movies such as ‘Kokoda Front Line’, ‘Men of Timor’ and ‘The Battle of Bismarck Sea’.

Sadly Damien Parer was killed filming US Marines during the Pelielu campaign in September 1944, suffering a fate innumerable combat cameramen have both before and after his death. Other Australians contributed to the filming of war after Parer, firstly for the newsreels and then with the advent of TV their footage was made available for the nightly news. The aforementioned Neil Davis was the next cameraman to get up close and personal to the soldier fighting a war, in his case the South Vietnamese and Cambodian troops of the Vietnam War. It was Davis who took the footage of an ARVN police chief executing a VC insurgent during the Tet Offensive, then at the war’s end he filmed an NVA tank crashing through the Saigon Presidential Palace gates.

Davis would die filming a Thai Army coup, leaving the succeeding generations of Australian film makers and TV journalists struggling to match his and Parer’s legacy. Partially (and thankfully) for last quarter of the Twentieth Century Australian soldiers did not fight in any wars. Our cameramen did watch, film and (as in the case of the Balibo Five) sometimes suffer the cruel fate of becoming the victims of other countries’ wars. However no one was able to do what Parer did for the diggers of Kokoda or Salamaua on the big or small screen.

In itself this would not be something to be too concerned about except within media and film making circles. However the environment has changed since September 11th 2001. The commencement of the so-called War on Terror’ has seen Australian troops fighting in two major theatres of that war, Iraq and Kuwait. And so far, aside from Department of Defence footage, some YouTube video and the occasional ABC current affairs report the work of our fighting men and women has been woefully under-reported in film:

This isn’t a reflection on the abilities or desires of the Australian combat cameraman or film/TV maker to get deep into the heart of the 21st century digger’s war experiences. It is however an indictment of the failure of the Australian government, no matter its political persuasion to trust people at home with something more than micromanaged minutes of footage authorised by the Department of Defence. I would not call it censorship, although others almost certainly would. Nor would I say that the vision that has been released is utterly worthless propaganda (as the likes of a John Pilger may say). However the manner in which our vision of the war in Afghanistan has been conveyed since the almost total withdrawal of Australian ground forces in the Iraq theatre must be considered utterly unsatisfactory. There have been two VC’s awarded since January 2009 and our casualties there have risen steadily. Brave men have fought and become casualties in a war that supposedly is on our behalf and yet through governmental deflection (at best) or misdirection (at worst) we have not been given the moving images to properly dignify our troop’s efforts nor their sacrifices. For too long there has been a huge gulf between the occasional DoD news briefing and the almost stock scenes of our political leaders attending the funerals of those who have fallen in combat.

I’m not saying that we need to be shown a myth-making paean to our men and women in the war zone of Afghanistan, and I know that contemporary media cynicism means we won’t be able to accept a new ‘Kokoda Front Line’ set this time in Tarin Kowt. However there are effective and meaningful precedents from other countries and their film and TV journalists, who have brought back from the war on terror significant movies that actually go some way to reflecting a combat reality we don’t get in government coverage of embedded ‘Four Corners’ type reports. My prima facie evidence is the much lauded US film ‘Restrepo’:

‘Restrepo’ gets into the FOB of a company of US troops and doesn’t just go out on patrol with the men then scoots back to Bagram air base for hot meals, cold beers and an editing suite. It’s classic combat documentary cinema, insofar as the men in battle aren’t mythic heroes, they are soldiers who can do things no civilian would ever want to and yet at the same time they are fallible and vulnerable. There are mistakes and casualties, bravura and boredom, however one thing there is not is the BS factor of a micromanaged government sponsored film crew. This is a film that is a great example of how embedding with the troops to film their war actually adds depth and reality to something we civilians are almost utterly divorced from.

It has been utterly remiss of our media, our film and TV producers, our government and even those of us home here in Australia not to ask for more realism, more access to our men and women as they are engaged in a war on our behalf. We can’t all be expected to read Department of Defence media releases, nor can we seek truths that are at best relative and at worst not possible to find. We can however ask why no one has been able to put together for more than the length of a sound bite an independent documentary film or TV production that gets behind the barbed wire, goes out on patrol or nestles in underneath the OHP of a firing pit with the current generation of diggers. Marshall McLuhan said that the Vietnam War was lost in the living rooms of America; that may be true. For Australia the Afghanistan War is invisible not just from our lounge rooms, but also from our streets, our cinemas, our worplace discussions and our political debates. Let’s hope a new Damien Parer or the production team behind such a combat film maker can emerge before too late.

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