Reviewed by Rama Gaind.
By David Marr, Black Inc., $39.99.
Not often do we come across a writer who exemplifies distinction in every facet of his being. Such is the case with David Marr.
He has rightly been labeled one of Australia’s most unwavering, forensic reports of political debate, and one of its most perceptive and articulate biographers. My Country is the conclusive Marr collection.
At the outset he admits: “my country is the subject that interests me most, and I have spent my career trying to untangle its mysteries”. He has spent his career trying to untangle its mysteries … as he does here as well.
Curiosity, mischief and exasperation made him a distinguished journalist and notes:
“At a difficult point in my twenties I accepted I was gay. Wanting to understand my country came, right from the start, with wanting it to change. I have a naïve notion that change would come simply by setting out the facts with clarity and goodwill.”
He knew he had a lot to learn – and he did.
Marr knows his country and there’s some enlightenment through “this collection of a few pieces written over forty-five years that I hope make sense of this place”.
This compendium provides his commanding reflections on religion, sex, censorship and the law; noticeable accounts of leaders, moralists and scandalmongers; refined cogitations on the arts and the lives of artists.
The fine-looking hardback includes early works such as his report on the 1978 Mardi Gras police bashings and his review of the first Rocky Horror Picture Show.
There are some unforgettable narratives, including the remarkable story of David Marr’s wedding day.
Towards the end of the 561 pages is perhaps one of the most hauntingly touching articles – Patrick White: the final chapter. The essay starts with the death of White’s life partner, Manoly Lascaris, then shifts through the Australian writer’s passing, lets us ‘see’ how his genius resonates, combs through his papers and the finale comes back to the late Lascaris. It’s skillful.
‘In Marr’s hands, those things we call reportage and commentary are elevated to the most artful and illuminating chronicles of our time.’
