Bruce Pascoe

The novel has a strong sense of place, particularly in evoking the natural environment and characters of East Gippsland, a part of the world that is obviously close to your heart. What does it mean to Jim Bloke? Do you have a favourite spot you’ve recreated in the novel?

Jim likes beauty. Having spent so much time in institutions he has made it a mission to be immersed in beauty and peace. Like many dreams it’s abraded by reality but it remains his solace. The bay called Housekeeping is one of my favourite places. It’s actually two places but I’ve laid one piece of geography over another. Giant banksias grow close to the water’s edge, crayfish seek out you company. I used to gaze at it when I was working on an abalone boat.

Freshwater is actually Lake Baracoota and the description in Bloke is a factual representation. While camping there two years ago, a Sea Eagle flew over our tent at dawn. I don’t invent much, I just pull the quilt to bits and sew it back together to tell a different story. To please myself.

Jim Bloke is a likeable, self-taught man who hasn’t become too hard or wary after a stretch in prison and some other hard knocks. He appears to want to settle and perhaps finally find his place in the world and the love he craves. But as much as he thinks he’s got a handle on things, there is a lot about himself and the others around him he seems to wilfully ignore. Why?

He’s got this plan for the reinvention of his life but it’s like a shopping list. When he gets to the supermarket they’re out of lamb steaks and he has to settle for lamb and garlic sausages. They’re not bad but require a different recipe. The upside is that they have preservative.

Institutions teach control and Jim reckons he can institute the same rules for his life. The problem is that institutions are hermetically sealed and their environments are controllable. Wild life, however, operates on the chaos principle.

Jim enjoys playful, idiosyncratic and often funny turns of phrase, in his own speech and that of others. Did you have particular people in mind when writing each character? Do you collect examples of particular language before writing, or does it naturally grow from the characters as you write?

Throughout my life I’ve been surrounded by people who speak like this. I’ve worked in the fishing industry and, but for a few years, lived my life in the bush, so it’s second nature. I’ve also been surrounded by strong women, so I hope people notice how Giovanna and Aunty Cookup speak. One of my dearest girlfriends used to delight in saying, I haven’t had so much fun since the chooks got out.

I don’t have to make a conscious effort to source dialogue, these people speak in my head all the time. Yes, I hear voices. All the characters are blends of people, so the admixture causes them to develop independent characters. Fortunately, I can anticipate what they’re going to say next.

A few of the characters have a yearning for a simpler, less commercial, less greedy and cut-throat past, though their present still contains mysterious, almost magical, people and places (among plenty of others besides.) Are you suggesting all is not lost and plenty can yet be recovered?

What’s the alternative? The two most terrifying things I’ve been confronted with are the paling fence and the fawn cardigan. It’s possible to live without them, but you have to be prepared for the restrictions of bush life. When I visit cities I have a window of three days before the terror of sparrows, starlings and pavements kicks in. In those 72 hours I have a meal out, see a play at La Mama, go to a few galleries, knock about with degenerate artists and then flee. When I’m next in Melbourne, I’m going to that new Recital centre in Southbank. You could only have something like that in a city but that’s no excuse for us all to live there. Australia is a beautiful place but too few can leave their suburb long enough to see it.

As for some of the difficulties Jim comes up against, is the Australian fishing industry ripe for an Underbelly style expose?

Capitalism and communism have this thing about increasing production. Growth is seen as the natural order, which is why our governments and churches encourage population growth. We can’t feed all these people, so supplies dwindle and prices rise. Add ridiculous sums of money to any industry and you will attract some criminal minds. Most fishermen are honest but they have to compete for a living; the result is plunder.

Do you think Australia is currently undergoing a deeper positive shift in dealing with its Aboriginal past?

Australians are aching for a sense of belonging and legitimacy because most love their country and want to embrace it. Past generations have found it difficult because the spectre of contact history has caused them to gaze on the land through Perseus’s mirror. The young have plastic minds which allow them to ask questions of the past and I’m full of admiration for their searching enquiry. Without that curiosity and generosity we are destined to become Senator Fielding clones. Sorry to spoil your day with such a prospect.

To what extent do the indigenous communities of Gippsland maintain their connection to land and culture? Is this current connection fading or growing? If growing, has a revival of local language been part of this? And have you drawn from your own experience in portraying Jim’s reconnection to his family and background?

My family was told we had an Aboriginal heritage. Some of what the genealogist claimed has been incorrect but our search has uncovered other connections. Those connections are all remote and, for many, don’t amount to enough to claim identity but it’s too late. The search for family revealed a radically different history of Australia. To have swallowed the fantasy history without question is a continuing indictment of my brain and my education. The quest to inform myself and find family has racked up deep obligation to many Aboriginal families and I will never fully repay those debts. But I’ll die trying. There is an incredible cultural revival going on in Victoria and the Ganai of Gippsland are in the vanguard of that movement. I have sat in some of the kitchens Jim visits and heard the most radical thought expressed by people with no education and no money. No wonder I’m optimistic.

A few of your novels are interlinked. In writing and editing

Jim Bloke is related to Jim Fox, the character of my first few novels. Many of the characters, or their children, come and go throughout the books because I crave their company. I say without shame that I love the way Faulkner creates a world. Others do it too, but I love the way Faulkner’s world is such a truckload of kittens and chooks: chaos. I wish someone would ask me about the dogs and birds in my books. And the boats. And perfumed trees.

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Cover image for Bloke

Bloke

Bruce Pascoe

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