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afternoon Alice Angus & Robertson Archibald Prize artist asked Australian literature Australian Writers award Barnard Barnard Eldershaw beautiful Brent Brindabella Bulletin Carlton Clune dear diaries Dobell Dymphna Cusack edition Eldershaw Fellowship of Australian Fogden George girl gone Grey Henry Handel Richardson Henry Lawson Ida Leeson Idriess Jack Franklin January Jean Jill Roe Joseph Furphy journalist Lampe letter literary living London looked lovely Marjorie Barnard married Mary Gilmore Melbourne Miles Franklin Miles Franklin Award Miss Scott Mitchell Library MLMSS 364 MLMSS morning Mother née never night Norman novel November P.R. Stephensen party Penton Pioneers on Parade play poor Prior Memorial Prize pseudonym published S.H. Prior Memorial Sir Francis South Wales Stephensen story Susannah Swagger Sydney talk telephone theatre Thelma things thought told took trees wife woman women wonder wrote young Zºo
Page 64 - Dame Commander of the Civil Division of the Order of the British Empire.
Page 98 - Up the Country, 1928; Ten Creeks Run, 1930; and Back to Bool Bool, 1931.
Page 8 - Altogether—with the exception, perhaps, of some too emotional passages in middle of novel—and as a vivid yet humorous description of selection and farming life in Australia, I think the work goes deeper, is more vividly realistic and more perfect than my own.
Page 9 - but something more than emotion is needed to make fine literature; and here we miss any genuine instinct of art or any mature power of thought, and are left at the end only with a painful sense of crudity. Miles Franklin is ardently devoted to Australia, but to a remote ideal Australia, and in the eagerness of her own embittered and egoistic mood she tramples under foot the things that really make Australia.
Page 6 - The trees were not so majestic. The ranges were low and ragged without gorges and mighty rocks like castles and cascading streams draped with tree-ferns and maidenhair and flowering shrubberies along their banks. No lyrebirds gambolled across the track to flute in eucalyptus aisles across a big singing creek. Oh, Ajinby
Page 15 - the futility of my existence, my weakness in effort, my failure in accomplishment fill me with a creeping melancholy that grows more impenetrable. I will fight against it, once more by hard work, and if in two years the results are no better than in the past I shall die
Page 6 - with its river, its creeks, large and small, full of fish, its wealth of orchards and ornamental trees, its flower gardens with pomegranates and magnolias! Here there were no rocks or ferns at all. There were no permanently running creeks, only weedy waterholes. Mother named the place
Page 30 - Australian life is too lacking in tradition, and too confused, to make many first-class novels.