CBCA Book of the Year 2015

When I was in High School, the announcement of the CBCA shortlist was always a highlight of the literary year. I always endeavoured to read all of the shortlisted books before the winner was announced, and highlights of this period of my life were gems such as:

• Gillian Rubinstein's Beyond the Labyrinth, Galax-Arena and Skymaze (the sequel to the wonderful Space Demons which I devoured even in Primary School)
• Brian Caswell's Merryll of the Stones and A Cage of Butterflies
• Caroline MacDonald's The Lake at the End of the World and Speaking to Miranda
• John Marsden's Letters from the Inside (and Tomorrow when the war began, which was never given a guernsey for the CBCA Book of the Year, but started a new generation of teenage readers hooked on Australian YA.)
• And, of course, Melina Marchetta's seminal Australian YA classic, Looking for Alibrandi

I  also remember reading other Australian YA authors such as Victor Kelleher, Isobel Carmody and David MacRobbie. back when YA was seemingly more about being creeped out by supernatural and psychological thrillers. I also remember being confronted by Kate Walker's Peter, back when queer characters and sexuality was less prevalent in YA fiction.

Now, over 20 years later, times have changed, but Australian authors continue to bring a wide range of new and fresh YA that continues to push the envelope in the literary industry. This Friday, the CBCA Book of the Year for Older Readers will be announced, and whilst I unfortunately haven't been able to read all of the shortlisted titles, I've read a fair few of them, as well as some of the notables. Here are some brief reflections.

Notables:

• As Stars Fall - Christie Nieman. I must confess that this was an impulse buy, based on the fact that I used to work with Christie, and the cover is gorgeous - with a young odd-looking girl cradling a bush stone-curlew. What ensued is a haunting, evocative yet original novel about natural disaster and regrowth mirroring grief and healing, in a truly Australian gothicYA tale.

• Razorhurst - Justine Larbalestier. This was a fun, gritty romp around 1920s inner-West Sydney, with an assorted cast of gangsters, prostitutes, a street kid, aspiring novelist, and lots of ghosts.

• Still on my to-read list are Alice Pung's Laurinda, and Rebecca Lim's The Astrologer's Daughter.

Short-listed

• The Incredible Adventures of Cinnamon Girl - Melissa Keil. I loved her debut novel, Life in Outer Space (which was shortlisted for the CBCA Book of the Year in 2014), and this novel does not disappoint either. Where LiOS is an entertaining geek boy meets cool (but also secretly geek) girl, and romantic shenanigans ensure, full of pop culture references, Cinnamon Girl treads much more original territory, following a group of friends living in a quiet country town about to graduate from high school, but also facing the impending apocalypse. It's still has its share of fun, sassy banter, but also a lot of heart, with issues of friendship and facing the realities of impending change.

• Nona & Me - Clare Atkins. Set in remote Arnhem Land in 2007, I found this novel personally reminiscent of my time living in Darwin from 2006-2009. This novel is a tale of innocent childhood friendships and connection with indigenous culture, the changes that occur through adolescent, with peer pressures stemming through ignorance, and finally rediscovering that connection that was lost. This novel accurately depicts Yolngu culture, and the tensions that grew during the time of the Indigenous Intervention, through to the Apology speech of 2008.

• The Minnow - Diana Sweeney. The winner of the 2013 Text Prize, this one certainly stood out in its narrative style. Tom, the protagonist,has a unique, whimsical voice, tainted with grief but without the maturity to come to terms with her circumstances, as an orphaned pregnant girl living in the wake of a natural disaster that has claimed the lives of the rest of her immediate family. This novel is also excellently crafted, as something of an enigmatic puzzle that slowly comes together.

• The Protected - Claire Zorn. And yes, here we are again, dealing with grief, loss and coming to terms with the truth. Zorn's writing is raw and honest, yet balanced without letting this become just another derivative problem novel about bullying and family tragedy. Never didactic or melodramatic, this is a skilfully-crafted novel which has already won the Victorian Premier's Literary Award for Young Adult Literature.

Unfortunately, I was unable to get my hands on Christine Bongers' Intruder or Darren Groth's Are you seeing me? Nevertheless, if the quality and unique talent of these four novels is anything to go by, then I certainly don't envy the judging panel's task of picking a winner.

Reminders to myself...

Being an expat can be difficult, and, as my previous post highlighted, it can be very easy to focus on the negatives, and let it get me down. And recently, the farewells seem to be far outweighing the welcomes. This is something that is a quintessential part of the expat life - the fact that your stay will only be temporary, whether it's a 3-month placement or (such as in my current posting) up to four years.

So, in the interest of looking on the bright side of things, here's a reminder to myself of things that I am grateful for (in list form):

1. I have a job. With a reputable employer. With a range of varied, interesting, and challenging tasks. With opportunities to exercise my professional skill and help people in diverse communities.

2. I will have plenty of time, and enough money to travel. I just need to be patient.

3. I can - and will - travel all over Europe. It's the wrong time to travel right now, being both summer and peak travel season, but I'm itching to get some happening once September comes.

4. I have books - my own little library at home. Enough to keep my occupied for weeks in solitude, if the mood takes me. And if I need alone time, then that's okay.

5. I have a creative mind. I need to use it more - because that's what makes me happy. I don't need an audience right now - just some notebooks and my thoughts. I need to take more time to let myself be creative.

Three and a half months in, I feel like I've started out doing the things I *should* be doing, which feels like a rookie error, and I should know better at this point in my life. It's time to refocus on the things that I know will make me happy.

...like the deserts miss the rain.

It's an oft-uttered cliche to say that you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone. And it's not that I want to write a post for the sake of whingeing. Because the fact is that I've got some good things going for me, for which I am certainly grateful. I have a source of income, which provides a means to maintain a comfortable lifestyle. I have work that utilises my skills, and makes me feel like I'm making the world a better place, one baby step at a time. I'm based in Europe, where I can take leave and visit all those wonderful places that I've only ever seen in the movies. Most importantly, I always have the option to go home - nobody's forcing me to stay here.

That said, there are a number of things that I do dearly miss, and have to confess has been getting me down lately.

1. Having the support of real friends around me. (And no offence meant to people who have been part of my social circles of late - I think you're awesome too, but in a different way.) Somebody who I can have an honest personal conversation with, and they'll know'll exactly what I mean and can empathise and provide solidarity. Somebody who I can be truly myself around, without feeling self-conscious. Somebody who I can just hang with, and be purely comfortable with each other's company without feeling the need to talk bullshit. Somebody who I can trust with my life. Somebody who I will always look out for and will always look out for me. Somebody who just gets me. I miss that.

2. Being part of a community. Whether it's a creative community, or a dance community, or a group of peers from the same program (like the AVID program when I was in Vietnam) or just a regular social group that meets up regularly. This is difficult when living in a highly-transient environment, and people are constantly coming and going. It's easy to suddenly feel out of the loop, because 3/4 of the people who you met in the last month have already left, and none of the new people even know who you are.

3. Literary programming and events. This is something that I took far too much for granted when living in Melbourne, whether it was events at the Wheeler Centre, book launches, or spoken word events. Nowadays I read, and then go online to tell people about how awesome books are, but it's not the same.

4. Public socio-political discourse. This probably happens a lot, and I'm probably just unaware of it because I don't speak or understand Albanian, but I love going to events with panels sessions that discuss the social programs, with commentators from a range of backgrounds and ideologies. But considering that I work in an organisation that is primarily involved with the peacekeeping and development process in society, it's something that I feel that I need to engage more actively in.

5. Performing arts. Whether it's stage drama, dance, physical theatre, cabaret, fringe arts, comedy, etc. I've seen the occasional touring musical performance, but not much, and I do hope there's more on, but I'm not really aware of it at this stage.

6. Cultural Institutions. Yes, there are libraries, museums, and art galleries, but they could be so much more, finding ways of presenting and celebrating the full extent of the diversity and history of this region. Of course, perhaps I'm not looking hard enough, but for a region with a history that spans from the Illyria to Medieval Serbia, to the Ottoman empire, to the Kingdom (and later people's republic) of Yugoslavia, and finally the current situation after the Kosovo War, there's certainly a lot of content that these institutions could be continuing to curate and develop! It's certainly not something that there should be any shortage of in this region...

7. Having an audience. I'm a performer. I need an audience. It's what I live for, more than anything. Whether it's dancing, or singing karaoke, or performing a show, or being in a play, or even delivering a conference paper or delivering a training session, I need an audience. It's the time when I feel most alive.

8. Feeling appreciated and proud of my work. Work is important to me. It's important that I'm achieving the goals that I set for myself, and can be proud of those achievements. But lately, I've started doubting myself. Maybe it's because I've been working more in development, and in areas that don't highlight my professional strengths, and so I'm not always delivering the best outcomes possible, and taking longer than I should to create effective solutions. Really, there should be no excuse for sub-par quality work, and if I'm not working to my optimum, then maybe I should switch to another job.

9. Life / career guidance. I'm pretty far off the path-well-travelled right now. I know where I ultimately want to be (i.e. planning and delivering programs and events in cultural institutions with a literary / historical focus). And some of my work directly involves the facilitation and monitoring of cultural programs, so it's not entirely unrelated to my desired career path. But I'm also feeling a little lost, if I'm going to go be completely honest with myself.

10. Feeling like I fit in. I know that it's still early days. I've been living here a total of eleven weeks - not even three months, so I need to give myself more time. However, my work-related social circles are limited and constantly diminishing. I don't really know how to go about making more "local" friends. My current instinct is to withdraw and hideaway in my apartment full of books. But I know that I need to try to force myself to be more outgoing, and build new social networks - especially amongst those who are going to be here for the long-haul - if I'm ever going to feel like I fit in here in Kosovo. This is exactly the problem that I had last time I lived in Darwin, and also, to an extent, in Hanoi. I just never felt like I really fitted in. As an adult of almost 37 years, I feel like this is something that I should have learnt to be able to do by now. It shouldn't be this hard, right?

I'm not sure that trying to eloquently describe my feelings like this has had the kind of cathartic comfort that it maybe should, but it's a good way of reminding myself of the things that are important to me. Of course, I can survive without these things right now, and I have the consolation of being able to travel around Europe and discover new and exciting places. However, the next time I start considering making big changes in my life, I'm going to look back at this list, and ask myself, "Will I be able to tick all these boxes?"

Because, listed right here, are my priorities for my future.

Final day of #blogjune

So, this is the final post for yet another Blogjune. I missed one post along the way, and another time made a token effort that was hardly worth reading - I think both times were when I was in Prague, so that's forgiveable. So, let's say I achieved 28.5 posts out of 30. Not perfect, but not bad.

Certainly, there wasn't a shortage of things to blog about. There were topics that I also considered writing on, including:

- Kosovo beverages (Drinking yoghurt is weird, but good on muesli. The beer is mostly awful. Rakija is interesting and quince rakija is my favourite.)
- Fashion in Kosovo (If you want to fit in, wear jeans and some kind of black / dark top. Get a buzz cut.)
- Hanging out with the Clintons (There's a statue of Bill Clinton in one of the main streets, and next to it is a power-dressing women's boutique called "Hillary's")
- The Serbian side of Kosovo (visiting Gracanica Monastery, and wandering around the streets of Gracanica)
- National identity and ethnic identity - the issues from an Australian point of view, looking at the current state of affairs both in Australia and Kosovo. (I have many opinions, but I'm not touching that one...)

Blogjune has been an interesting exercise, as always. As a communal exercise, it's been a great way to share and compare ideas to a greater extent than merely an exchange of tweets on a topic. It's also been good to revisit some of the questions that we've been asking over the years, and see how our perspective has changed. On a more personal level, it's been an excellent exercise in forcing myself to reflect on my current state of affairs, on both a personal and professional level. For future reference, it gives me a snapshot of where my brain is at right now.

To be honest, I'm probably not going to continue blogging on a regular basis. I'll be blogging when there are major changes happening in my life, and also what is becoming my yearly review, reflecting on how my year went.

But for now, that's me, signing off for Blogjune 2015.

Maintaining perspective and living with ourselves...

Now, I like to think of myself as having an at-the-very-least-average level of political awareness, as an Australian who has spent much of the last few years watching Q&A, Mediawatch and The Insiders, as well as reading The Monthly and the Saturday Paper (which reminds me - I must renew my annual subscription). However, in the last few months, living in Europe and working alongside people who have spent their lives as specialists in political affairs, I've learnt to keep my opinions to a minimum, lest I get this response...

I expressed this to a colleague today, and their consolation was, "Well, at least you're not American." Great. But when it comes to matters of politics, I try to leave my Australian-ness out of it. Our government's attitudes to the comparatively minuscule volume of asylum seekers travelling by boat is now legendary across the world, as is our attitude to climate change, the global Islamic community, and marriage equality. But at the same time, it's Australia. They're on the other side of the world. Let them be a bunch of narrow-minded bigots, and play their petty political games. Here in Europe, there are bigger problems closer to home.

But I do consider how much my perspective has changed over the past year. Living in South-East Asia has increased my awareness of many of the social issues that plague our neighbouring countries, with problems of poverty, migration, corruption, environmental pollution, poor communication, media bias, the plight of ethnic minorities, and so on. And then, living in Eastern Europe, there's the impact of the Syria conflict and widespread poverty and unemployment that leads to mass-migration. There's national economic collapse, and the wider effects on the European Union, whilst other nations want to buy in as a way to stimulate their economy and bring about prosperity. And then there's poor education, social inequality, inter-ethnic tensions, and, again, the plight of ethnic minorities who will always be at the bottom of the pecking-order of society.

It's a lot to take on board, and at the same time, it really feels like the tip of the iceberg. And this all overwhelms me. And then I'm faced with first world problems and triumphs, and I feel bad that I'm not over the moon like everybody else is about marriage equality in the US, because, really, Canada has already had it for ten years, and meanwhile there's a massacre on a beach in Tunisia, hundreds of thousands of asylum seekers roam the land looking for sanctuary, and conflict situations and human rights violations continue to rage on around the world. Factory farming industries inflict ongoing cruelty to animals, palm oil industries destroy forests, kill wildlife and pollute the air, plastic bags fill our oceans, and carbon emissions fill our air, slowly poisoning this planet.

And then I have the gall to worry about myself, and my career, and whether I'm really happy with my life, and how I can keep myself both professionally and creatively stimulated, and worry about when I'm going to go swing dancing next, let along whether I'm ever going to own property or start a family because, y'know, that shit is important. It's really fucking important, otherwise what the hell is my purpose in life here?

This is how my brain works, and it really scares me sometimes.

I'm mindful to know that it's not healthy, but at the same time, it's also completely normal. We all live in our own bubbles, where we get so caught up in our own problems (and yes, First World Problems are still valid problems) that we completely lose perspective. But trying to maintain perspective is even harder. It's too hard.

How do we even live with ourselves?

Ugh, okay, this post was originally meant to be about learning to survive when living and working away from home... except, obviously, I let my brain derail my train of thought. Let's try to get back on track:

10 ways to stay sane when living overseas in a developing country.

1. Be mindful of your own mental wellbeing. Constantly check yourself, and give yourself a break from time to time.

2. Exercise regularly. Not because you think you're getting too overweight, or whatever, but because your body needs you to stay active and healthy now more than ever.

3. Stay social. Make the effort to go and make conversation with colleagues at lunchtime. Ask people out to dinner, or to meet up to watch a movie. Whatever it is, just keep making social connections.

4. Take pride in your work. You might be the only person who appreciates what you do, and that's probably the most important reason to do so.

5. Try to make some real friends. This is a tricky one, because you'll often be living amongst a transient population, and if you're anything like me, the number of people that you meet who truly "get you" will be few and far between. When you meet one - don't let them go!

6. Maintain momentum and direction. Set goals for what you're trying to achieve and what your next step in your life will be, so that you have something to work towards, and don't lose sight of it.

7. Don't drink (too much). It may seem like a valid coping mechanism, but it'll make things harder, especially if you're already not exercising enough.

8. Read books. I shouldn't have to explain this one to you. Trust me, I'm a librarian. I know.

9. Take the time to appreciate what's around you. Whether it's taking a weekend trip to the countryside, or just walking down the street and appreciating the lively colours, sounds - even the smells. You'll miss it all once you're gone.

10. Know when to walk away. Living and working in a developing country changes you. It changes your perspective on the world. It changes your priorities in life. But it's not without its challenges, and some of these will be insurmountable. By all means, take them on, and achieve what you can, but also know that you can't save the world. You can only do your bit, and eventually the time will come to walk away and pass the baton on to somebody else. That may seem like a cop-out, sure, and maybe it is. But if you have opportunities in life, don't waste them entirely. Not everybody in the world else has the luxury of choice that you have. Look after yourself, but do it with some semblance of grace and compassion as well.

Living in swing dance purgatory...

We're into the homeward run in #blogjune, and I've been trying to keep my posts diverse between my varied interests of libraries, literature, travel. However, I haven't been blogging much about swing dancing. For over five years now, it's been a big part of my life - it's very much a social activity through which I've made many new friends, it's a very physical activity, which makes me feel less guilty for neglecting to go running / to the gym regularly (and, in anything, provides me with motivation to go and improve my cardio fitness, so that I can be a better dancer!), and it's a creative activity, where I develop dance skills to connect musically and rhythmically with a range of authentic jazz music from the 1920s to the 1940s - as well as contemporary interpretations of this musical era - all of which is music that I absolutely adore to listen to. When in Melbourne, I would go out dancing at least twice a week, and often 3-4 nights a week.

However, in recently years, I've found myself living in cities / towns where there hasn't been a regular swing dance scene. This, of course, has a substantial impact on my life - for me, dance isn't just all of the things I've described above - it's also a release. There's an intense emotional connection with the music (and also, to some extent, with the dance partner), and this provides a cathartic function in my life. No matter how frustrating my work or personal life is, I can always dance my woes away. And there are times that I really crave that familiar comfort, connection and joy that comes from swing dancing.

Furthermore, it's something that I'm missing right now. Up until about four months ago, I was all booked in to go to Herrang Dance Camp - in Sweden - the biggest Swing Dance camp in the world. I would have arrived yesterday morning. But my life's road took an unexpected twist, as it often does, and that's okay.

So, when the dancing's not immediately available, how do I find it?

1. Travel to where the dancers are. 
When I lived in rural Japan, I would travel 2-3 hours each way on a Wednesday, for the sake of an hour and a half of social dancing before I had to run to catch the last train home at 9:30pm. It was worth it. More recently, I caught overnight trains to and from Bulgaria for a swing dance weekend, and two flights each way to and from Prague, where they have regular weekend social dancing. I've got some leave planned for September, and hopefully more around Christmas where I'll head to Snowball in Stockholm, or one of the other big events nearby, depending on when I can get away!

2. Teach the locals to swing dance.
I did this for the first five months when I first arrived in Hanoi, teaching every Tuesday evening, in the hope that this would lead to building a community of local swing dancers. However, I learnt a few things here. Firstly, teaching / building a scene cannot be a solo effort. Furthermore, there needs to be a substantial number of locals who want to build the community - it's not something that you can build, especially as a newly-arrived foreigner. It takes a lot of work and organisation, and even then the social dynamics can be such that a swing dance community can collapse easily within a short period of time, if not managed carefully (especially where there is a huge transient population). I can kinda understand why dance scene leaders get awfully sensitive when it comes to dance scene politics.

That said, I did enjoy teaching swing dancing, especially when I had somebody to teach with. I developed some valuable skills, and like to think that in finding ways to teach technique to others, I'm also mindful of my own dancing. It's something that I've also been able to bring to the Balkans, and assist another swing dancing friend who occasionally teaches swing dancing workshops in her local community (only five hours away from me by bus - but totally worth it!).

3. Collaborate with other dancer(s) living nearby.
Now, if you're lucky, there'll be at least once other dancer living nearby. And if you don't want to teach, you can at least dance with each other, and exercise your creativity by developing a routine, like I did earlier this year with another lindy hopper who was in town for three months (which we performed at her going-away party - see below)

Yes, it was a flying carpet. Appropriate for the song. For dancing, not so much.

4. Focus on solo jazz dance.
This has been my latest tactic. When I picked my apartment, I made sure the living room had a nice big wooden floor. I've recently purchased the means to connect my laptop to my big TV screen, and now I have my own solo dance studio!

Solo jazz practice and whiskey...

A photo posted by Andrew F (@lib_idol) on Jun 26, 2015 at 10:39am PDT

With last weekend's activities in Prague, I had to learn the Big Apple routine - of which I already knew the first half (aka the easy half). After some cram-learning, I've spent the last week actually taking the time to learn it properly, and through this, I'm rediscovering my love for solo jazz dancing. Once I've finished locking in the Big Apple, I'm going to start revising the Tranky Doo and the Jitterbug Stroll, and then seek out other routines, like Doing The Jive. If you don't know what these are, then see below...

The Big Apple routine from "Keep Punching"

Part of the Tranky Doo from the film "Spirit Moves"

I kinda love this teacher demonstration of the Jitterbug Stroll...

Doing the Jive - in Seoul, Korea, where the scene is huge and the dancers are amaaaazing!

That should keep me busy for at least a couple of months until my next big Swing Dance adventure, where I'll be spending my whole birthday week at a Swing Castle Camp in Germany.

The National Library of Kosovo

One of the most intriguing of buildings in the city of Pristina is that of the National Library of Kosovo. Built in 1982, and designed by Croatian architect Andrija Mutnjaković, it is often found on lists of the ugliest buildings in the world. Many people I've met here have never gone inside.

Actually, I quite like it. On the outside, there are the white domes, which are reminiscent of the ottoman baths in Prizren, or the domes of the various religious sites around kosovo, and although the building was completed before the rise of Milosevic and the Kosovo War, the stark cement-wrapped-in-metal-bars exterior seems fitting, given the political history of the area. But that's just my personal impression - other people see other things in this building, and that's the beauty of good art and architecture. It evokes a strong response in its beholder.

And the interior is just as striking, with patterned marble floors, large reading rooms, and an ornate wooden amphitheatre. And the semi-opaque domes effectively work as sky-lights, with natural lighting through the building. I had the opportunity to meet with one of the librarians, who was able to connect with through a former colleague and the International Librarians Network, and she showed me around the library.

      

As we have seen in other conflict situations, libraries such as those in Baghdad and Kabul suffer greatly at these times, often with the loss of significant collections of cultural heritage significance, and during the Kosovo War there were similar reports of destruction of cultural artifacts.

However, it was wonderful to see that this library has a strong focus on celebrating the diversity of culture found in Kosovo and making it accessible to all. The librarian was proud to say that they hold collections in languages that serve all the communities in Kosovo, and their role was to promote the culture of the community, rather than political agendas. And ethnic identity aside, they also have a collection for the blind, and I was able to meet some of the staff there who were working with equipment that transcribed print text into braille. Such underlying principles of impartiality and accessibility are so important with libraries, and it is great to see them underpinning the services provided here.

Library staff working with collections and equipment for the blind.

Display in music collection

Other collections in the building included the NATO collection, the music collection (which included musical instruments, sheet music, and recordings), and various donated collections of local cultural significance.

Unfortunately, I only had a small amount of time to view the library before heading to work, but I returned later that evening, and visited the "American Corner" - a reading lounge set up by the US Embassy, which runs programs to support English Language Learning, as well as collections of fiction by American authors. I donated a couple of my books that I had recently finished, and will certainly return to see if I can help in any way in the future, whether it be running programs or supporting collection development.