No Nuclear Submarines No Matter Who Owns Them! For a Nuclear-free World! For a Weapons-free World!

And where have all the anti-nuclear peace protesters gone?

Apexing

 

As the propaganda

unfurls to make a complaisant

audience even more pliable,

we hear of the unsighted

sonar world of insight

into the call of whales,

the sea creature speech

that is a privilege to eavesdrop

on, to warm the soul

the deeper and colder

it gets. ‘Brothers and sisters’

in the new regime, precise

as torpedoes, concise

as thirty-second showers,

intimate as cramped

living conditions in which

‘sex’ is off the menu (‘steak

and lobster’ is on). The massaging

of reception as the Virginia-class

fast-attack submarine USS Minnesota

slips in to ease the transfer

of nuclear reactors

so friendly to oceans

and surface, to all that earth

is and will no longer be.

Rockingham hugs the ‘apex

predator’, Fremantle hugs

the apex predator, Perth

hugs the apex predator.

Don’t call these places

by their Indigenous names

in such a context as this —

those names are forever

and not temporary.

Where have the protesters

gone? Where have the flotillas

of peace boats sailed? As easy

as economics the safety

of world as we know it in

back yards, front yards, down

the street, across the water,

high up in the tainted atmosphere.

 

 

            John Kinsella

Tracy Ryan's new Youtube channel Language Learning Life

By Tracy

In the last few days I've revived my till-now inactive Youtube channel now going by the title of Language Learning Life. 

It will feature discussions of language learning (French, German, Italian, Irish/Gaelic and more), reviews of resources for learning particular languages, and posts about translation.

Language studies and literature being on a continuum, there will also be literary items arising from our daily lives — past & future events, short readings including poetry from John Kinsella and Tim Kinsella as well as myself.

It's likely I'll upload quite regularly so don't forget to check back if these topics interest you.

Hope to see you on Language Learning Life... and if you like it, please subscribe!

The Queen's Apprenticeship in Spanish, and The War Within Me forthcoming

By Tracy Ryan

Back in late 2023, I posted about my first historical novel (my sixth novel, but first in that genre), The Queen's Apprenticeship, being published with Transit Lounge. It intertwines the third-person narrative of a real-life figure, Marguerite de Navarre, with that of a completely imagined character from a very different background whose first-person tale Marguerite is reading, embedding one story within the other...

In late 2024, the Spanish edition of that novel appeared with Ediciones Maeva, for any of you who read Spanish — or know somebody who does, and who might like historical fiction set in sixteenth-century France. It's translated by Carlos Milla and Isabel Ferrer. 

Cover design by Opalworks Barcelona

I already loved the Transit Lounge cover featuring a portrait of Marguerite de Navarre — I'm just as taken with the very different Spanish one, bringing together as it does the two protagonists, one a privileged royal woman and the other a young printer's apprentice named Jehane/Josse (there are identity changes through Jehane/Josse's story).

I'm excited to say that in June this year the next book, Book Two in my Queens of Navarre trilogy will also be appearing with Transit Lounge — The War Within Me.

This second historical novel takes up the story of Marguerite's daughter, Jeanne d'Albret — it's not a biography, but "biographical historical fiction" following her journey from childhood through to the French Wars of Religion (Civil Wars) in the latter half of the sixteenth century.

Here is a cover preview of The War Within Me: 

Cover design by Peter Lo, using a portrait of Jeanne
by an artist of the school of François Clouet

Though readers of the first novel will find connections in this one, it's able to be read as a standalone.

Book Three is still to come! That is the story of Marguerite de Valois ("Queen Margot"), the next Queen of Navarre.

Rachel Watts recently reviewed the first novel in Westerly online.

Other responses to Book 1, The Queen's Apprenticeship:

"a triumphant foray into historical fiction… a compelling exploration of patriarchy, privilege and resistance in Renaissance France, set amid a vividly sketched milieu … with convincing fictional characters."

— Cheryl Akle, The Australian

"the brilliant depth of character we want when reading historical fiction … a buoyancy of storytelling." — Jessie Tu, Sydney Morning Herald

Against the Ongoing Genocide in Gaza

Graphology Superscription 142: genocide phase 2 Gaza

 

The thin stretch of land Gazan Palestinians

have called home is more than a ‘sea view’.

 

But complicated by rubble and the odour of death,

the US will help decorate the guilty reminders.

 

And though it might be deft to say Trump’s

declarations are a real estate developer’s

 

sense of land-usage, of the profit

that will come from a glossy future,

 

it’s actually far more devious than going

eighteen holes (ready-formed by shell-

 

craters). In the sweeping aside of logger-

head turtles and jackals, in ensuring

 

contracts for Americans who make so many

of the weapons that have reshaped the past,

 

the endgame policies are energised

to drive the people out, to win history.

 

 

            John Kinsella

 

Against Antisemitism

As someone who campaigns against all violence and for those suffering in Gaza (and other zones of violence), I am appalled by the attacks on synagogues in Australia. Deeply, deeply appalled. Some of you might have read my On the Outskirts collection with poems such as 'Denkmal' which try to challenge antisemitism across history. The conflating of 'Jew' with the Israeli military/govt is fundamentally wrong (it is supported by WASP America etc, what’s more) and is a typical and toxic bigotry come of an unwillingness to analyse closely. Anyway, this is not my point. My point is that as someone who tries to speak out against injustice, I feel I must speak about and against these attacks. 

Graphology Superscription 136

I call from the haze of illness

to the perpetrators of hate against Jews

in Sydney and Melbourne, I call across

the continent to those who have lost

their way by substituting the actions 

of government and military for the lives

of those who would worship in peace, 

who are not wielding weapons. You

will define prayer as you define prayer,

you will make arguments of association

and excuse or seek to legitimise

your cause of DNA and deculturism.

You have blamed and judged and held

responsible and converted your rage

to hate or, most likely, you have simply found a way

to express your deeply entrenched antisemitism

while denying it’s that, or not. I address 

the perpetrators, I address those who have 

lost their way and shifted blame in the signs 

of Nazism while deploying Brown Shirt tactics,

those who search for symbols and accelerants 

to focus their own violence, their own anger

that has been dislodged from compassion,

making one place stand for another,

burning the holy as others have burnt

the holy, and reasoning that it is justifiable.

It is not. It never was. You operate by stealth

lodged in your hoodies, you speak among

yourselves to justify your racism, your bigotry,

and you turn your backs on all the suffering

in all places. You’ve tapped into violence

begets violence to use as an excuse, an action,

when your hatred makes and undoes

history by unequal, bloody measures.

John Kinsella

Elegy for Brenda Walker (1957-2024)

Memoir

 

            in memory of Brenda Walker

 

(i)

Out walking

the relative cool

 

of the morning

and discussing

 

day’s unfolding

with the magpie tiding,

 

the loss of a friend

emanates

 

from the bush

of Kaarta Koomba

 

and follows the river

up over The Scarp,

 

traces river, brook,

and dry ‘winter creek’

 

to inflect so many

conversations

 

on writing, on how

to make a way

 

through memoir

and remember

 

all we have passed,

all we will sense.

 

 

(ii)

 

In discussing

the possibilities

 

of fiction

when Crush

 

appeared

in a city

 

retuning

or resetting

 

under Moreton Bay

figs in Hyde Park,

 

we extended

the conversation

 

across immediate

years

 

to the poetics

of death

 

and how much

we were both

 

going to make life

work the best

 

way possible,

whatever

 

the circumstances,

the conditions.

 

 

(iii)

 

This agreement

we had

 

about one day

meeting

 

on a street

in New York,

 

just to pass

and say ‘hi’

 

and keep

on going

 

towards

the lives

 

we were writing

into other

 

versions

of a story.

 

Or the agreement

not to say

 

anything after

you had a word

 

with authorities

to free me

 

from the lock-up

after my protest

 

to release

incarcerated animals

 

from their pain.

You merged

 

in and out of the shadows,

but always there

 

if called upon.

Not often, sometimes.

 

 

(iv)

 

So generous

when Tracy and I

 

married, to offer

a plate whose design

 

was a mandala,

an exposition

 

to the building

of a friendship

 

that could follow

the shifts

 

and resolve

however long

 

between messages,

catching up

 

even briefly.

We so delighted

 

in your next life, your

deep bonds.

 

 

(v)

 

Out walking

the relative cool

 

of the morning

and discussing

 

day’s unfolding

with the magpie tiding,

 

your wry, friendly

glance of knowing

 

replaces

a harsh sun

 

with a warmth

of insight

 

to what’s not working

and how it might

 

be made whole.

An impossible day.

 

Remember Iggy and the Stooges

playing riparian static?

 

Not your music,

but you listened anyway.

 

Remember Cambridge,

the river that could be drained.

 

Then later. Much later.

Peppermint tea. Another

 

river pushing

down to the sea,

 

but also looking back

over its shoulder.

 

Then different oceans

away from your

 

recovery, though

reconnecting,

 

through memoir

which was your course

 

I shared. Different

and the same. How

 

we make stories.

And where. And when.

 

 

            John Kinsella

 

Another Anti-war Poem (you don't have to see the visuals to know what slaughter looks like)

Graphology Superscription 117: administrations

Without viewing

the visuals, you’ll 

likely know 

what killing 

looks like.

And you’ll know

that Biden’s call

for Ukraine to ‘revise’

its recruitment age 

from twenty-five

to eighteen

is an ‘anthem

for doomed youth’

played out by proxy.

An act of creative 

thinking.

And you’ll reason

that increased weapons-flow

is the twist in a presidential 

pardon that serves

next generations.

You are forgiven...

and you... and you.

Thanks very much

(from afar)

for your sacrifice.

Processing, you’ll second-guess

that a new administration

will pursue pet conflicts

under chosen conditions. 

A fresh set of eyes

even if you’re not looking.

Rerouting front lines

for fresher conscripts.

Different audio-visual

frames of reference.

Alternative newsfeeds.

You might re-say that wars

escape their makers,

their sustainers, and their

apologists. That wars ultimately

feed themselves. You might

tick off the days on the calendar

with or without hope.

You might also say that wars 

ache with clichés for slaughter 

even if you don’t view 

that latest footage from x

or y co-ordinates — sicut dixit. 

Edited... or even up-

loaded raw 

and immediate.

And other such

affronts.

And having said all this,

if you do say all of this, 

you might conjecture 

over potential

‘peace talks’; 

memorials;

re-plantings

of torn fields;

post-war 

economies,

strategic

realignments.

Allegiances.

And that hardly

mellifluous saying:

‘adult time for adult crime’.

John Kinsella