Diversity or perversity?: Award-winning children's literature and the Australian curriculum

Two of the three cross-curriculum priorities for the national Australian Curriculum prescribed by the Australian Curriculum Assessment and Reporting Authority (ACARA) are focussed on what might be called diversity education: “Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander histories and culture”, and "Asia and Australia's Engagement with Asia” (ACARA, “Cross”). One need not be versed in complex rhetorical theory to understand that, laudable and legitimate as such priorities are, their existence implies that mainstream education in Australia has been or is characterised by the marginalisation or erasure of Australia's history—the original Indigenous cultures are not only living and vibrant today, but also have tens of thousands of years’ “head start” on Australia’s settler cultures—and of its geography—Australia is, after all, located in some physical proximity to Asia. Some might even suggest that Australia is in Asia. These temporal and spatial “forgettings” constitute a kind of cultural perversity which the cross-curricular priorities both seek to address and serve to reinscribe. Even as ACARA requires Australian school students to engage with Aboriginal and Asian histories, cultures, societies, they imply that such histories, cultures, and societies are “diverse”, that they are not those of the students in Australian classrooms; producing them as objects of study rather than as lived experience. This should not necessarily be surprising. Michael W. Apple has provocatively argued that: “one of the perverse effects of a national curriculum actually will be to ‘legitimise inequality.’ It may in fact help create the illusion that whatever the massive differences in schools, they all have something in common” (18). In the Australian context, attempts to mitigate such perversity are articulated via the selection of literary texts. As educators move to resource ACARA’s cross-curricular priorities, ACARA notes that “Teachers and schools are best placed to make decisions about the selection of texts in their teaching and learning programs that address the content in the Australian Curriculum while also meeting the needs of the students in their classes” (ACARA, “Advice”). This assertion appears on a webpage called “Advice on selection of literary texts” which is notable first and foremost for its total lack of any literary texts being named, and its list of weblinks pointing to lists of texts compiled elsewhere, by other organisations, and in the main, compiled to serve agendas other than the Australian curriculum. One of the major resources referred to by ACARA for literary text selection is the Children’s Book Council of Australia (CBCA). Of course, the CBCA’s annual book awards do not share ACARA’s educational priorities, but do have a history of being drawn upon by schools as a curriculum resource. In this paper, I consider the literary texts which have been prized by the CBCA in recent years attending to their engagements with Aboriginal cultures.

The importance of science fiction and other STEM-related mass media in young people’s decisions to enrol in university STEM courses

This paper presents Australian results from the Interests and Recruitment in Science (IRIS) study with respect to the influence of STEM-related mass media, including science fiction, on students’ decisions to enrol in university STEM courses. The study found that across the full cohort (N=2999), students tended to attribute far greater influence to science-related documentaries/channels such as Life on Earth and the Discovery Channel, etc. than to science-fiction movies or STEM-related TV dramas. Males were more inclined than females to consider science fiction/fantasy books and films and popular science books/magazines as having been important in their decisions. Students taking physics/astronomy tended to rate the importance of science fiction/fantasy books and films higher than students in other courses. The implications of these results for our understanding of influences on STEM enrolments are discussed.

Australian eco-pastoral poetry

Les Murray and Judith Wright are two Australian poets who are widely read as landscape poets. While this framing offers valuable insights into their work it often fails to bring the importance into a contemporary context or to recognise the long tradition Australia has had with , to use Leo Marx’ term, “the complex pastoral”. As Ruth Blair reminds us in her chapter “Hugging the Shore: The Green Mountains of South-East Queensland” in The Littoral Zone: Australian Contexts and their Writers it is accepted that North America has a tradition of the complex pastoral mode but it should be remembered that Australia also has a long history of this form. Both Judith Wright’s and Les Murray’s poetry encourages active campaigning for the environment .These Australian poets are eco-pastoral poets whose poetry encourages active reading rather than passive reflections. Their poetry speaks to the strong connection between the lived everyday landscape and the imagination of past, present and future. Their work is imbued with a strong sense of ecocritical awareness while at the same time drawing on pastoral conventions. These two Australian poets do not offer idealistic pastoral notions but rather reveal the complexities of lived human/nonhuman relationships. This paper will discuss these complexities and how poetry can be experienced as literature in action—ways for readers to connect with and negotiate with the land they inhabit. The research for this paper was, in part, drawn from the responses that local community library groups offered after reading the works of these poets. What became evident from this research was the way the poetry made the readers think not only of landscape as a place of refuge from the urban technological world but also as a contemporary place with connection to agency that motivates readers into active change.

From stadium to page : why football deserves more fiction

A great football novel is like a perfectly executed bicycle-kick goal, like players such as Argentine legends Diego Maradona and Lionel Messi; they come along once in a generation. Against the accumulated volume of non-fiction football literature (some people still call it soccer), which could fill and spill out of a World Cup Stadium, football novels are comparatively rare. That said, football or soccer fiction is a genre with a very real and important historical longevity...

The case for Sheilas, Wogs and Poofters by Johnny Warren

If you had to argue for the merits of one Australian book, one piece of writing, what would it be? Welcome to our occasional series in which our authors make the case for a work of their choosing. See the end of this article for information on how to get involved. The late Johnny Warren – also known as Captain Socceroo – was a legend of Australian football. He is fondly remembered as a player, coach, administrator, writer and broadcaster, and the award for the best player in the A-League is named the Johnny Warren Medal. And yet his 2002 biography Sheilas, Wogs and Poofters, an Incomplete Biography of Johnny Warren and Soccer in Australia, which he co-wrote with Andy Harper and Josh Whittington, seems eternally destined to raise eyebrows...

Visions and values : the Children’s Book Council of Australia’s prizing of picture books in the twenty-first century

The Children’s Book Council of Australia (CBCA) administers the oldest national prize for children’s literature in Australia. Each year, the CBCA confers “Book of the Year” awards to literature for young people in five categories. In 2001, the establishment of an “Early Childhood” category opened up the venerable “Picture Book” category (first awarded in 1955) to books with an implied readership up to 18 years of age. As a result, this category has emerged in recent years as a highly visible space within which the CBCA can contest discourses of cultural marginalisation insofar as Australian (“colonial”) literature is constructed as inferior or adjunct to the major Anglophone literary traditions, and the consistent identification of children’s literature (and, indeed, of children) as lesser than its ‘adult’ counterparts. The CBCA is engaged in defining, evaluating, and legitimising a tradition of Australian children’s literature which is underpinned by a canonical impulse, and is a reflexive practice of self-definition, self-evaluation and self-legitimisation for the CBCA itself. While it is obviously problematic to identify award winners as a canon, it is equally obvious that literary prizing is a cultural practice derived from the logic of canonicity. In his discussion of the United States’s Newbery Medal, Kenneth Kidd notes that “Medal books are instant classics, the selection process an ostensible simulation of the test of time” (169) and that “the Medal is part of the canonical architecture of children's literature” (169). Thus, it is instructive to consider the visions and values of the national, of the social, and of the literary-aesthetic, in the picture books chosen by the Children’s Book Council of Australia (CBCA) as the “best” of the early twenty-first century. These books not only constitute a kind of canon for contemporary Australian children’s literature, but may well come to define what contemporary Australian children’s literature means in the wider literary field. The Book of the Year: Picture Book awards given by the CBCA since 2001 demonstrate that it is not only true of the Booker Prize that, “The choices of winning books reflect not only on the books themselves, then, but also back on the Prize, affecting its reputation and creating journalistic capital which is vital for the Prize to achieve its prominence and impact.” (81). Many of the twenty-first century CBCA award-winning picture books complicate traditional or comfortable understanding of Australianness, children’s literature, or “appropriate” modes of form and content, reminding us that “moments when texts resist or complicate recuperation into national discourses offer fruitful points for exploring the relationships between text and celebratory context” (Roberts 6). The CBCA has taken the opportunities offered by the liberation of the Picture Book category from an implied readership to challenge dominant constructions of children’s literature in Australia, and in so doing, are engaged in overt practices of canonicity with potentially long-lasting effects. Works Cited: Kidd, Kenneth. “Prizing Children’s Literature: The Case of Newbery Gold.” Children's Literature 35 (2007): 166-190. Roberts, Gillian. Prizing Literature: The Celebration and Circulation of National Culture. Toronto: U Toronto P, 2011. Squires, Claire. “Book Marketing and the Booker Prize.” Judging a Book by Its Cover: Fans, Publishers, Designers, and the Marketing of Fiction. Eds. Nicole Matthews and Nickianne Moody. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2007. 71-82.

Touching Texts : Adaptations of Australian Picture Books for Tablets

In order to explore some of the possibilities and constraints of picture books on tablets, this chapter addresses adaptations of contemporary Australian picture books for tablet devices. It considers how publishing technologies shape form and meaning of picture books, and attends particularly to the impact of interactivity and adaptation on such meaning. After discussing some contextual issues for electronic literature, this chapter explores the print and tablet versions of three picture books: Libby Gleeson and Freya Blackwood’s Look, A Book! (2011), Nick Bland’s The Wrong Book (2009), and Shaun Tan’s Rules of Summer (2013).

Bricolage and storied selves: Young people's assemblages of narrative and identity in an Australian life storytelling project

Narrating is simultaneously self-interpretation and self-construction. People make sense of their lives and create their identities through an active process of assembling and applying meaning to memories, experiences, thoughts, actions and passions. Such a process can usefully be described as a bricolage: life narratives are created as an assemblage of scattered experiences and events. Through the particular way in which they are arranged, the storyteller constructs what Paul Ricoeur (1992) calls a “narrative identity”; that is, an identity which is organised through and specific to the story told. Applying this notion of narrative as bricolage to ‘Heywire’ – an Australian youth life storytelling project – this paper discusses the unique affordances that the process of storytelling offers in terms of identity and the way new, digital technologies and the internet augment the features of life narratives. It argues that narrative, in addition to new media, offers important tools through which young people who participate in the Heywire project make sense of personal experiences and craft their own identities in powerful and purposeful ways.

Fresh Cuttings: A Celebration of Fiction and Poetry from UQP's Black Writing Series

As the first anthology of UQP's indigenous-authored books, Fresh Cuttings represents the very best of fiction and poetry publishing from UQP's Black Australian Writing series. An introduction by the editors and a biography of each author is included.

The (im)possibility of objectivity: Narrating the past in young adult historiographic metafiction

This article uses two Australian historiographic metafictive texts, Into White Silence (Eaton, 2008) and The Lace Maker’s Daughter (Crew, 2005), to demonstrate how particular narrative strategies destabilize the relationship between history and fiction and the past and the present.

Butterfly: the dark fluidity of suburban life

The American Association of Australasian Literary Studies (AAALS) Annual Conference, Forth Worth, Texas, 9–11 April 2015. The dark fluidity of Melbourne suburbia in Sonya Hartnett’s Butterfly Sonya Hartnett’s Butterfly (2009) is a fictional account of the suburban family life of the Coyles in 1980’s outer suburban Melbourne written from the perspective of teenager Plum Coyle. The Coyle family at first glance appear to be living a textbook example of the suburban lifestyle developed from the 19th century and sustained well into the twentieth century, in which housing design and gender roles were clearly defined and “connected with a normative heterosexuality” (Johnson 2000: 94). The Australian suburban space is also well documented as a place where people often have to contend with oppressive rigid social and cultural ideals (ie Rowse 1978, Johnson 1993, Turnbull 2008, and Flew 2011). There is a tendency to group “suburb” as one monolithic space but this paper will argue that Hartnett exposes the dark fluidity and the complexity of the term, just as she reveals that despite or perhaps because of the planned nature of suburbia, the lives that people live are often just as complex.

Children's literature and the environment

Fiction offers creative and imaginative scenarios and solutions that may stimulate young people to consider their own relationship with the environment. Literature for young people also offers insights into ecocatastrophe, anthropocentrism, sustainability, and other important issues. A further significance of this project is that it aligns with the cross-curriculum priority of the Australian Curriculum, namely ‘sustainability’. The 'Children's Literature and the Environment' project in AustLit includes a variety of bibliographic records (fiction, information books, film, poetry, and multimedia) relevant to children and young adults that deal with the environment in imaginative, scientific, educational, and creative ways, which culminates in an online exhibition. There are a number of components clustered around key concepts and issues, such as sustainability, urban environments, and Indigenous perspectives. This exhibition allows researchers and students to access and engage with bibliographical data on a range of literary and critical texts that provide various environmental perspectives over a significant period of time.

Scripted drama: The long wait for football to be taken seriously as a literary subject

This article is a work of non-fiction which draws on my research in football fiction.

Coming of Age in 9/11 Fiction: Bildungsroman and Loss of Innocence

Directly after the horrific events of September 11, 2001, many Americans were saying the same thing: the world has changed forever. They were overwhelmed with a sense that “the party was over.” It was clear that America had lost its innocence; it now had to “grow up.” Much of the fiction produced since 9/11 and with 9/11 at its core provides evidence of the larger cultural belief that September 11 was a turning point (much like adolescence) from which there is no turning back. In this chapter, I examine how three post-9/11 novels—Lorrie Moore’s A Gate at the Stairs, Joyce Maynard’s The Usual Rules, and John Updike’s Terrorist—position readers to understand September 11 as a moment that changed how young Americans come of age.