Review: Ducks on the Pond, by Anne Summers

I recently read an interview by Eleanor Catton, Booker Prize winning author of The Luminaries. In the interview, Catton explains the uniqueness of novels compared to other art-forms, saying that when you read a good novel, your mind and body become so wholeheartedly drawn into it that the experience is an all-encompassing one for the reader. Nothing going on around you matters, and you want to do all you can to stay in and continue experiencing the world that's being presented to you by the author.

This all-encompassing phenomenon is one I'm familiar with. And it's one that I experienced while reading Anne Summers' remarkable autobiography, Ducks on the Pond. For those of you who don't know, Summers is an esteemed Australian writer and journalist, best known for her involvement in feminist writing, editing and publishing; including The Misogyny Factor. It was actually after reading The Misogyny Factor that I wanted to learn more about Summers, and this is how I came across Ducks on the Pond. And it didn't disappoint. Set from Summers' birth in 1945 up until 1976, I felt like I was completely transported into her world and living a double life while reading it. 

Now you may be thinking - 30 years, that's an awfully short span for an interesting autobiography. Right? Wrong. Summers' numerous achievements during that relatively short amount of time is positively astounding. From becoming heavily involved in the Australian Women's Movement in the 1970s, to opening one of the first women's-only refuges in Australia, to publishing her first book (the controversially titled Damned Whores and God's Police), it's hard to believe that Summers achieved all that she did in that little time.

However, it wasn't an easy journey. Summers' recounts growing up in the oppressively conservative era of the 1950s, where 'there were only three things a woman could do: get married and have kids, become a nun or end up an old spinster' (p.69). She details the disillusion of having to select a pathway based on these rigid archetypes, as well as the various conflicts she faced when she did not meet the expectations of her strongly Catholic family. Summers eventually left home to pursue a more liberating life, facing many challenges along the way in a world which did not support independent women. 

But while Summers did face some tough, and at times distressing, challenges, she also recounts the happier times, such as what it was like growing up during the thrilling 1960s. This was one of my favourite sections of the book, namely because the 1960s is one of my favourite eras of history, and one which I would have loved to have grown up in myself. Reading Summers' vivid accounts of going to the concerts of Bob Dylan and first discovering the music of The Beatles, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin and Jim Morrison and the Doors was riveting - as if I had stepped back in time and was reliving it all with her. Summers captures the novelty and excitement of this era brilliantly, building up to the new ways society would re-think the social roles of men and women in the coming decade, where, to paraphrase Bob Dylan, the times they were a changin'.

Still, Summers doesn't try to gloss over how difficult it was to instigate change during this time. In this way Ducks on the Pond shed a new light on this era for me, by detailing how difficult it was for people to make changes. It can often be easy to get caught up in the excitement of the 1970s and how much change was happening then, while forgetting that there was still plenty of strong resistance against the causes people were fighting for. Nevertheless, reading about the sheer resilience and admirable persistence of Summers and her allies was inspiring and fascinating, making me question just how much effort people are willing to go to nowadays to protest against unjust causes. 

Overall Ducks on the Pond is the extraordinary story of how one woman refused to let the cultural and social boundaries of the time dictate what she could achieve. For it was Summers' firm belief in the right for women to be the subjects of their own lives which was the driving force behind so many of her actions. Summers herself realises how fortunate her life has been, largely attributing it to the power of education in freeing her. For, with education Summers says, 'I learned it was possible to have big dreams and bold ambitions. I could make my own life, and I would' (p.143). It's a fascinating, inspiring and powerful account of growing up in mid-century modern Australia, and is an Australian Story that deserves to be more widely read.

Review: The Railway Man, by Eric Lomax

The past few months have welcomed many firsts for me in terms of reading. Previously, I hadn't read many non-fiction books. Nor had I read many memoirs. The same went for books of essays. However, I've slowly started experimenting with and reading a wider variety of genres, including the ones just mentioned. With my 'have read' collection being in the midst of a serious genre expansion, and considering I received Eric Lomax's The Railway Man for Christmas, I thought what better time than to continue expanding my reading horizons, this time with a wartime memoir.

While I was excited to commence reading this new book and genre, I was also a little bit nervous. Would the narrative draw me in enough? Would all of the military and train jargon go over my head? Would the accounts of torture be too gruesome for me to get through? Would the fact that I dislike war and what it stands for hinder my ability to enjoy the story? I knew these concerns were petty, yet I couldn't help thinking them. However I needn't have worried, for Lomax's story was crafted so eloquently and told in such an accessible way that I was glued to it from beginning to end. 

The Railway Man is the remarkable story of Lomax's life, focusing largely on his time as a Prisoner of War (POW) along the notorious Burma-Siam line during the Second World War. Also known as the 'Railway of Death,' around 12,399 Allied POWs and 90,000 Asian civilian labourers died in its construction. Lomax himself only just survived the harrowing ordeal, spending over three years captured and tortured by the Japanese in various POW camps along the railway. For those of you unfamiliar with the chilling history of this line - a line that was never even completed - I'll borrow Lomax's words to describe it to you, who states that 'it was not only the last cruel enterprise of the railway age, but the worst civil engineering disaster in history.'  (p.98)

While a large portion of The Railway Man deals with the atrocities of working along this Death Railway as a POW, reading about what Lomax went through - which was unimaginably horrific - was never to much for me to bear. Instead I was completely gripped by his story. That's very much due to Lomax's highly skilful writing and his ability to communicate what he went through in the poetically simple and palpable way that he does. One example is when Lomax describes his state of delirium after days and days of intensely repetitive and aggressive interrogation, where he states:

'My mind was turning into a machine that produced texts, words and images, cutting them up and feeding them to me in disconnected and confused snatches, slogans, scenes, fantasies. I became a screen with bits and pieces unfolding across me.' (p.159)

This vivid snapshot of Lomax's chaotic and manic state is a prime example of his ability to recreate moments in words so well. It captures the inhumanity he and his fellow prisoners suffered, who were made to feel anything but human, being reduced to mechanical shells of the people they previously were.

Despite all of the horrors recounted in his story, Lomax still manages to offset the harsh brutality of his life as a POW by discussing his lifelong passion of trains throughout his narrative. What's more surprising is that this passion, which stemmed from Lomax's childood, was not weakened while being made to work on the worst railway in history. If anything it reinforced his fascination with these machines, for somehow Lomax was still able to find pleasure in them. Though the cruel irony of all of this is not lost on Lomax, his inherent obsession with trains is nonetheless perplexing for the reader, given what he and his fellow servicemen were being put through. Putting perplexities aside, Lomax's passion nevertheless remains a heartwarming example of the mysterious workings of the human spirit in times of severe hardship, suggesting that hope is possible even in the most desperate of times.

Being freed by the Allies in 1945, Lomax's story continues with a heart-rendering insider's perspective into what it's like to survive a war, and the sheer numbness and isolation that can result out of not knowing how to cope. With little support services available for ex-servicemen at this time, it's little wonder that Lomax was left to feel like a shell of the man he once was. 

Patti and Eric Lomax

After years of being tormented by his past demons, Lomax finally meets the person who will help him start to heal. And that person is Patti, who - through some extraordinary act of fate - he meets on a train. Together with Patti, Lomax is able to start facing the demons that still haunt him. This culminates with Lomax meeting one of his previous tormentors in the areas where he was once a prisoner; an event that prior to meeting Patti was simply unimaginable.

Within this wartime tale is also a story of lost innocence and nostalgia for times gone by. After all, the Second World War was the first time in history that technology and machinery was used like it never had been previously, where weapons of mass destruction caused unprecedented devastation. It moved the rest of the world and everyone in it into a new, uncertain era. Lomax's story is thus a transition from one of the last eras of true innocence - when 'technology was still powerful and beautiful without being menacing' (p.34) - to our modern era which is very much ruled by advancing technology; sadly more often than not to the detriment of our world.

Thus, Lomax's story also acts as a foreboding warning against the delusionary confidence that comes with living in the present and having little regard for future consequences. That for me was one of the strongest messages I took from the book - that humans have brought upon themselves much of the devastation and havoc caused to them, yet surprisingly do not learn from these mistakes, preferring much of the time to ignore or forget.

This is why stories like Lomax's are so important to read, as they are part of the process of remembering and understanding so that past mistakes don't need to be repeated. Unfortunately, even this isn't always enough, for as Lomax states from his own experiences, 'remembering is not enough, if it simply hardens hate' (p.319). Fortunately for Lomax, he was able to transcend the hatred and demons that had built up inside of him, finally finding peace with his past. And from this came the strength for Lomax to be able to share his story with us, a story that is so touching, powerful and important to read.