Hello reader.
I was neither here nor there on the matter of having been asked by Charlie to take you behind the scenes a little here in our book club by way of a prologue. But if I didn't, threatened Charlie, he was going to ask Richard to do it. Or worse, the Mufti.
Now I can't really speak for how anyone else in the club. Mainly because I find them all to be a little unhinged. Even you, Charlie, in the nicest possible way. And especially you, Richard. Much as I love you.
But what I can tell you is a little something about Nina and I.
(And thank you for that artwork there, Richard. Ten out of ten for imagination and minus one for execution.)
Right then. Nina and I are in our fifties. And we share a modest home with a lovely big garden in Essendon, on Woodlands Street. We work locally, at night we go for walks, and we have an outrageously spoilt cat named Apple. And we are writers.
And as to our style? Well, I think I'll just hint at that by showing you a couple of our character developments, one of Nina's and one of mine. Each of which eventually make it into Charlie’s collection—our prefaces to nothing, as he calls them—but which I will present here in their early-on exaggerated forms.
First, Nina's. Which you can find along with my own further along in this prologue. And here we have a comfortably-off older woman who Nina has named for herself. This other Nina has as her constant companion a pug with whom, by her own account, she is hopelessly devoted. Nina and her pug live alone along with a modest staff in a grand house in a late 18th century version of our own little suburb here. Which back then was a semi-rural stop on the road to the Gold Rush. Needless-to-say, if you know anything about the towns on the road to the Gold Rush back then, money flowed down every street here in Essendon like rainwater.
And as an example of my own work, I have chosen an independent-minded young woman named Jack living hard and rough on the docks in 18th century Plymouth, England.
In short, Nina and I have rather chosen a younger and older version of ourselves, one living a lot poorer than we are and the other a lot richer.
I will give you these character-developments as two special "Prologue-extras" following this, the prologue-proper. I will start with Nina’s.
Diana, 14 April 2019.
Character development by Nina for a book about an older Nina and her thoughts on the art of pug-breeding
It is a truth well known that pugs are territorial. It is, however, less well known that they are also tribal. And in my house, that will not do. Tribalism has no place in a civilised house and on this point, I am quite severe.
You see, I am very devoted to my dear ones. To a fault. No one is more attentive to what's best for them. So, it should come as no surprise to you that I have been tireless in the task of breeding this unfortunate trait out of my girls.
But alas, the instinct is stubborn. And of all my Abbie-pugs, none has been more impossible than this one. Save, of course, my dear Twelve, may Jesus hold her in his arms, and may Doctor Johnson sit forever on a hot poker in hell for failing to save my baby.
But this I do not have to tell you! Because as you have seen, Abbie is Hawthorn and will not budge. My goodness if she had a nose, I would squeeze it hard and make her eat a teaspoon of something wholesome, red and black.
Oh, but even as I say that my heart melts for you, doesn't it, Abbie! It is such a pity we quarrel so. But then, I could wish you weren't Dutch, too, couldn't I. But look! Here comes Mary. Brunch already!
And I have a treat for you today, Abbie. No, not Woodlands Park Duck. Swan! Mary is just back from Queen's Park, so she will still be warm for you. And you like that, don't you? Pardon? Mary? No, you scallywag! Not Mary. The swan! Oh, you make me laugh. But hush now.
Thank you, Mary. Abbie will have hers in her chair and I will have my morning port now. And please, turn me to face the sun? After that you can amuse yourself as you please until lunch, but please do not leave the house.
Nina, 31 December 2018.
Character development for a book about a girl named Jack
Initial sketch
As I join this book as it sets sail for wherever it's headed, I am imagining myself as Joseph Banks to my brother's Captain Cook. Because like all great navigators, Cam seems to know where we're going.
So, where to, Captain?
Well, if I'm going to play the part of Banks properly, then even as we prepare for the off, I'd better start painting you a picture.
Joseph Banks by Sir Joshua Reynolds
It is true that as he boldly set off on a voyage to the moon of his times to places no man had gone before, Captain Cook did not know every detail of what he would find when he got there. Well, of course he didn't! The fact that he didn't was the whole point of the voyage in the first place. It's like anything to do with science: just because you don't know the detail of a thing doesn't mean you shouldn't go and have a Captain Cook. (As Galileo once said, as he turned his shiny new telescope in the direction of Jupiter and accidentally smashed God's glass ceiling.)
Having said that, Captain Cook nevertheless knew enough about where he was going to at least dare set sail. He knew, for example, that at least all the basic things he was relying on finding on the other side of the world would probably be there waiting for him. Things like land, sea, air, food, fresh water and trees that he might need to chop down to make some running repairs.
And he knew that the Earth was a globe and not flat and that he wouldn't fall off the edge or sail into the fires of hell or anything like that. At the very least this all made him feel safe enough in a ship made of wood and saved him from wasting valuable space in the hull of his ship installing retractable wings just in case.
And he even knew how far away the other side of the world was, too. And that when he got there, he would know where he was at any moment in time to a high degree of accuracy, something he needed for all sorts of reasons including a plan to follow in Galileo's footsteps and measure the phases of the moons of Venus. Because he carried with him on his ship the wonderful new invention of a precision sea-going clock. This was the GPS of the 18th century and had only just recently been invented and perfected by a fellow English genius called John Harrison.
Captain Cook's K1, an accurate replica of Harrison's H4
Little things like this are big things. One example of this being that as a consequence of Christopher Columbus not having such a clock on his ship he landed in America and called it India. But another more deadly one—although I admit I haven't done a body count—being that prior to this invention, sailors in all of history right back to Jason and the Argonauts had been plagued by the fact that once they were on the high seas, they simply had no idea where on Earth they were in terms of longitude. And as often as not found themselves dashed up against the rocks of some foreign land or more embarrassingly, their own.
A replica of Cook's HMS Endeavour
I imagine sailing at night under these conditions must have been rather like rally driving in the Outback with no headlights and a navigator who's forgotten his watch. Not too bad during the day, but on a moonless night you might turn to your navigator and start to ask how far from Uluru he thinks you are and then an instant later, you are rock art.
***
So, it is far from the truth to suggest that it follows that when a great explorer is heading off on a voyage of discovery, he doesn't know anything about it. In fact, if he's anything like Cook and he's well prepared with his ideas, he probably already knows quite a lot.
And so, it is with a bloke like Cam as he kicks back here in Cook's antipodes. A man who to my mind at least is more Cook than Columbus and knows where he's going with this this book and this idea. Which without any further ado, which I will now introduce as the slightly enigmatically titled ... Sixty Thirty Ten.
And I don't mind saying I'm really looking forward to the ride and painting a few pictures along the way while I'm at it.
Segue
In between initial sketch above for a book called “Sixty Thirty Ten” (a title I’ve decided I’m not going to continue on with after all) and whatever I will create next, I've decided to insert a segue. Because it's been a few months now since I wrote that sketch and it's becoming clear to me that I might never get around to exploring its major theme. So, instead, I'm going to elevate some of its bridesmaid themes. Specifically, philosophy and history. (I'm also going to hold onto its voyage-of-discovery metaphor along with its interest in Captain Cook.)
Captain Cook's parents' house (built in 1755 in Great Ayton, North Yorkshire, England and now sitting here in Melbourne, it is the oldest house—in the European sense—in Australia)
My segue is going to bring into existence a much younger woman than I am living far less comfortably. Specifically, she will be living rough and dirty down on the docks in Plymouth, England, where Cook launched all three of his voyages. We will find her down there in the winter of 1776 between Cook's second and third voyages.
Like me, my younger self from long ago will be plain to look at. If, indeed, you would even notice her in the first place. Because she will not be strikingly plain but invisibly plain. And she will be disguised as a boy and will have been doing that by now for so long that it will no longer be a disguise. These things along with a healthy dose of luck so far and a talent for moving about unnoticed (and unsuspected) will be among the reasons she will have survived for as long as she has. And I'm going to call her Jack.
"Return of a fleet into Plymouth harbour" by Dominic Serres, the Elder. "A depiction of Plymouth showing a fleet under an admiral of the blue squadron returning with a prize, in a topsail breeze, with views over Plymouth Sound. In the foreground is Firestone Bay, with Drake's Island in the left background and Mount Edgcumbe on the right." (National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, London.)
All right then. I think I am ready to get to know Jack. But just a couple of additional things to know about her before we start, to make this segue a smooth one.
Firstly, she keeps a journal. Much like Captain Cook does. She starts a new journal each year, and each is christened on new-year's day with the name of its own year. To illustrate, when we first meet her, it will be new-year's eve in 1775. And she will be saying goodbye to "1775". You will find her addressing that journal by that name in the same way that if you saw me in the street you would greet me as "Diana".
And secondly, Jack is something of a thief and a murderer. And a talented one, too. Having said that, she's only killed two people in her life so far, the most recent one just a couple of days ago. And on the theft side of the equation, in general she steals only books, which she keeps in what she calls her "secret place", which is essentially a personal library.
"A View of Hamoze and Plymouth Dock from Mount Edgcumbe" by the engraver James Mason (1710 - 1780) after an original by George Lambert (1700 - 1765) and Samuel Scott (1702 - 1772).
Author's Note 1
“I went down to the Piraeus yesterday.”
Plato's first words in his "Republic". With these words he brings us from the lofty parts of Athens and down to the docks in Piraeus Harbour, where I imagine he can show us more clearly the human condition?
Author's Note 2
I'm going to try to avoid what you might call irritating anachronisms in this book. Specifically, attempts to give an 18th century character what you might call precocious 21st century politics and values. Put another way, not everything we write these days needs to be political. Here below is an example of what I'm talking about.
In the next chapter our hero, Jack, while having a hint of an idea about matters gender neutral for which in 1776 there might be no terminology, makes the comment that "a cat can't be a dog and a girl can't be a boy" as a statement of fact. In 1776 for a boy-girl like Jack, not only is there no word for this hint of an idea she is having, but there is also no possibility of it making any sense? I'm not sure, and for the purposes of this book, I don't need to be.
Having said that, if I have an option between some sparkling narrative and a slight historical anachronism, I'll choose the sparkling narrative.
Finally, this is not a historical work. I do happen to be keen on history, as it turns out, and philosophy too. But the aim of this book is to entertain, and to explore ideas from a perspective other than my own using a character who has very little in common with me. So, I don't plan to slow my writing down to make sure I've got my history deadly accurate. It will be sufficiently accurate for my aim to carry you back to another time and place (I won't be accidentally leaving wristwatches on extras in a movie set in 1776!), but no more.
Author's Note 3
Below is a quote from Wikipedia's entry for "Cooks' Cottage" as at 18 Jan 2019. I am comfortably satisfied that its sources, were I to check them, would be good enough for the purposes of this book.
"In 1933 the owner of the cottage decided to sell it with a condition of sale that the building remain in England. She was persuaded to change "England" to "the Empire", and accepted an Australian bid of £800, by Russell Grimwade, as opposed to the highest local offer of £300.
"The cottage was deconstructed brick by brick and packed into 253 cases and 40 barrels for shipping on board the Port Dunedin from Hull. Cuttings from ivy that adorned the house were also taken and planted when the house was re-erected in Melbourne. Grimwade, a notable businessman and philanthropist, donated the house to the people of Victoria for the centenary anniversary of the settlement of Melbourne in October 1934."
Diana, 31 Dec 2018
(Whenever I or any of my colleagues in this book sign off on the 31st of December, this means that when we wrote the piece, we recorded the year but not the date. Diana, 8 Oct 2020.)
A note about the final versions of our characters as sketched
Before I bring this prologue to and end and hand you over to Charlie for the introduction to our book of books, I would like to make a quick comment about the final versions of Nina’s and my characters as sketched.
With all my character sketches, we like to play “fashion designer”. The fashion designer, as far as we can tell, tend to create exaggerated and perhaps even outrageous designs to inspire everyday clothes-makers to take those ideas and make more realistic clothes.
Well, in the same way, the final versions of the characters we have sketched will be, you will find, less exaggerated. When, that is, we show you our books proper. Nina’s elderly lady, for example, ends up much nicer than the one she has sketched so far.
And the elderly lady’s pug? Well, for fun, Nina told me, she is going to be even worse!
Diana, 17 April 2019
