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First Person

Memories of Catholic Schooldays

  • Paul Chandler
  • 1st January 2009
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Memory is a strange thing. Suddenly, for no apparent reason, it will pop up an image of you standing in a doorway, aged seven, and then a minute later refuse to tell you your PIN. Memory is a shape-shifter, interpreting and re-interpreting, sometimes explaining you to yourself, sometimes excusing, sometimes deceiving. We all have shared […]

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First Person

The Friendly Spy Who Died Alone

  • Colin Fraser
  • 7th December 2008
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Over more than 100 years, the Commonwealth Public Service has probably employed a million men and women. A.N. Wootton was just one of them, outwardly a likeable and overloaded Commercial Secretary and Assistant Trade Commissioner, but also an incidental spy. Declassified departmental files tell his story, reflecting both the very best and the very worst […]

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First Person

If I Had a Hammer

  • Murray Mitchell
  • 1st November 2008
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We sat at the crossroads; it was early in the rainy season and we all sweated gently in the humidity. I say crossroads, but really they were just dirt tracks. The one from the east led in from the coast and went on to the big lake, to the village where we lived and from which we had motored early in the morning in the Land Rover. The southern track wasn’t up to much but the north-going one went on to the diamond mines.

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First Person

Double Vision

  • Alan Gould
  • 7th October 2008
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Behind Iceland Spar, John Greening’s eleventh collection of poems, lies one wartime narrative and one remarkable mineral. In addition, I must own to a particular, almost jealous interest in the parallel between Greening’s relationship with Iceland and my own, such that, in what follows I will both review his book and write myself into the […]

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First Person

The Immigrant’s Story

  • Eva Engleman
  • 7th October 2008
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The number of immigrants arriving in Australia from Europe increased rapidly just before and after the Second World War. As a postwar immigrant myself I would like to comment on how my experiences differ from the main characters in three Australian books. Moniek Prochownik, the unfulfilled artist in Alex Miller’s novel Prochownik’s Dream (2005), migrated […]

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First Person

Hell, Not Heaven

  • Sophie Masson
  • 1st September 2008
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When I was a child, I often used to wish I came from some other family. This is not an uncommon feeling in kids, who can easily become convinced that other people’s families are better and more interesting than the one they’ve been born into. In my case, though, I used to wish mine was […]

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First Person

The Whirligig of Time

  • Peter Coleman
  • 1st September 2008
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Chancellor, Provost, Fellows of the Senate, ladies and gentlemen: This occasion is for me a great honour and a great pleasure. The University has played a large role in my life. I cannot, to this day, drive past it and glimpse its towers, without recalling that summer morning sixty-two years ago when I first came […]

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First Person

Midnight Train from Budapest

  • Sev Sternhell
  • 1st July 2008
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FIRST OF JUNE, 1993, 11.30 p.m., platform number 5, the main railway station of Budapest. There is a bit of frisson to the location: the last time I left Budapest by train was in June 1944 and I, with 1680 others, was leaving for destinations unknown, seventy to a cattle truck. We finished up in Belsen. Now […]

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First Person

The Fibro School by the Swamp

  • Ron Cox
  • 1st June 2008
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“TEACHER-IN-CHARGE—Maria River via Kempsey. Second Class Rail Warrant Attached.” Yes, this was all the information thought necessary for me to begin my teaching career in some far-flung corner of the Department of Education empire. Well, I knew roughly where Kempsey was, and having been a member of Section 7, the small school section at Newcastle […]

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First Person

Alexander, Baches, Baras …

  • Sev Sternhell
  • 1st May 2008
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ALEXANDER WAS HIS SURNAME and I don’t remember his given name. He was a handsome boy with dark curly hair. His father was a professor at the Lwow University, his parents knew mine and I was encouraged to play with him. Baches, again a surname, was a somewhat overweight boy and wore glasses. Again, his […]

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