On Tues April 18, 2017, Reporter, Zona Black featured a lovely article about my book in the online version of the Launceston newspaper.
Thanks Zona for a great write-up.
http://www.examiner.com.au/story/4598403/memoir-of-love-music-in-tassie-photos-video/
There have been alot of serendipitous moments over the past few months. That six degrees of separation holds fast. We never seem to be too far away from our past, even if we think we’ve motored off into the sunset and left it all behind. The people in our life now are a direct conduit to those that went before them. It just seems to be how it is. If you dig down enough you’ll find those roots right underneath your feet.
I went to the Art in Tune weekend in Brighton (17-19 March), an art and music festival featuring the most incredible selection of paintings by a host of local artists – oils, acrylic, watercolour. Outside they had music playing in the gardens, and I was delighted to see Jeremy Gronow appearing there, with his latest band. In the 90’s he was the vocalist for Helvelln, a band that also features in my story. I took a few photos as they played. It was a searingly hot afternoon, and the perfect setting for some dancing on the grass. I recall dancing to Helvelln at an open air gig at Burnley college, just before Christmas 1990. The similarities were strangely evocative. Like I said, the past meeting the present.
It’s a time consuming business, all this marketing, but the response to the book to date has been very positive. I’ve found that the best way to promote it is to always have a copy to hand. Looking at it on-screen doesn’t convey its weight and volume, and you can’t get any sense of the quality of the paper, or the striking colours on the cover. Trying to generate chatter and maintain visibility about the book requires constant vigilance, and a knack for pestering that conveys enthusiasm and not harassment. There’s a fine line sometimes, but so far everyone’s been too polite to slam any doors. So thank you. It’s my baby, my first book. Of course I’m proud of it; and I have the pictures on my phone ready, whenever you want to see them.
Eight weeks on from the launch, I’m really happy that I used Ingram Spark for the publishing. In Dec 2016, there was a fair bit of angst at that final stage, trying to upload a file to their site, having to convert it to the right sort of pdf file, finding that there are plenty of pdf files that look totally fine, but they’ll get rejected every time. So it wasn’t easy, and actually in the end I stumbled onto Pickawoowoo Publishing Group in WA (yes, that really is their business name) who saved my sanity and got it all done right. Contact them. They’re amazing, and so calm, especially when you’re feeling dangerously close to a meltdown. (http://www.pickawoowoo.com)
The final product looks professional, and has been blending in with other books on the music / bio shelf of Readings stores. Proof that it looks legitimate. Job done.
I had another phone interview yesterday, with Zona Black of the Tasmanian newspaper, The Examiner, and I’m looking forward to seeing her perspective on the story of ‘one of their own’ – the Launceston lad who took his band to Melbourne in the 80’s/90’s in search of their fortune. That interview occurred as a result of the aforementioned pestering, and it has to be said, I don’t give up easily. It should be appearing as a Sunday feature in the near future.
As for other strategies, I’m still working on the radio interview. I’ll let you know how that goes.
Here I am, on the shelf. On the third shelf down actually, amongst the Biographies. Can you see my book? This is the Acland St Readings shop, in St Kilda. It’s the first picture of the book in a retail setting (9 March), but I also had three books sent over to the Lygon St shop the same afternoon, and they should be there now, unless they’ve already been purchased. A nice thought…
I’m listed in the Readings data base now – I checked today, in the Glenferrie Rd shop. It’s official. You can now buy Like Two Mexicans Dancing in store. Let’s take a moment to celebrate that!
Saturday afternoons at The Dan O’Connell Hotel, Carlton are normally reserved for poetry and wine…. lots of it…. and maybe a few nice ales. Poets do seem to also love a guinness with their verses…and you can blame the Irish for bringing stout into the whole equation – probably as a meal replacement.
On Saturday the 11th, The Dan kicked off with the launch of my first book, Like Two Mexicans Dancing, a very Australian story; and so many people turned out for the occasion. I’m glad we dragged out a few more of the folding chairs… After a year of writing it was great to be able to share my love for the Apple Isle, to reminisce, and to tell tales of friendship, fun and love. If I hadn’t met the band, The Fish John West Reject at the end of 1988 perhaps I wouldn’t have ended up living in Australia – and of course, I wouldn’t then have a book about the experience. I’m so glad I was there to document at least some of the journey.
What a fantastic afternoon – Martin on guitar, Cath singing backing vocals, and Andrew on bass. Sadly, Mark had to make a dash across to Tasmania, so he was unable to join us on the day, but he was in our thoughts.
A huge thanks to Libby for being a fantastic MC on the day.
Restitution
Like the slender masts of deserted ships, shrugged of their meagre rigging,
The gum trees shoulder the alpine wind, point accusingly at the bruising skies,
At the very air that gave passage to their baptism,
And lean their burnt bodies, like black exclamations against a floor of white.
The forest should be in a winter sleep, but the scourge of flame has left the trees bereft,
And where they would be slumbering they stand hollow, in haunting desecration.
Draped with the tattered scarves of peeling bark, their shed skin makes a loose curtain
That rattles a death knell in the birdless air, in the feverish chill of wind
That creeps between their lean-to frames and waves the sheaves of bark
Above a delicate seam of fallen snow, like a thrown quilt.
A snap of dry wood resonates like a cracked knuckle in the hushed landscape,
Wrung by the hands of a penitent wind that reaches a crescendo,
Rolls-in then exhales like a tide through naked branches, and loses its momentum.
These tendrils of peeled bark trail in long ribbons from the frail husks of lissom trees;
They flutter and caress like fingers reaching between their spectral figures,
In eerie supplication, as if beseeching for a last embrace.
Leeched of life, in ghostly stance, they seem to huddle in the rigorous cold,
Their forlorn remains petrified by the char and lick of flames,
Reduced to residue and amputated limbs, in attitudes of horror and indignation.
In the hush of the alpine doldrums, these ships’ masts make no journey,
Their dun, unclad limbs stiff and parched in this barren arboreal grave.
Lonely stanchions mark the ruins of the forest now, cutting into a rim of sky,
Their pitch skeletons gaunt and harried, stark against the winter chill.
The forest is dead; yet, at the ravaged feet of trees there springs a stalwart foliage
On tender shoots of green, their leaves twining hopefully on slender wrists of Eucalypt,
In reverence at the grave of their guardians, peering from snowy burrows
At the lofty heights to which their being makes them aspire.
From the ashes, the saplings begin their restitution, to flourish and endure as the seasons pass,
To reach for the high canopy as the decades unfold, and to be crowned again.
Their journey has barely begun, but in veneration for their fallen kings,
From the shivering ground their clamour rises: the forest is dead, long live the forest.
(Lake Mountain 2010)
Angela J Dawson 
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