Reading the City of Literature is a snapshot of Melbourne’s literary activity over the span of a year. It’s been a while since our last Reading the City of Literature, but we are happy to say that it’s back. So please scroll through this whole website, click, read and share!
My dad has fled to a cottage in the Dandenongs with all his books about the Second World War. My mum is distraught and concerned for his safety, yet furious this has happened once again. I pour her a glass of water and assure her everything will be okay, as long as dad has left…
I am like a flower. I have so many petals that make me who I am, but at the centre of all those petals is my pistil – my Aboriginality.
She was startled when the door burst open, pushed by a firm hand then flung inwards by the wind, and a splatter of thick raindrops blew in from the street. They were followed by the most beautiful woman Charlotte had ever seen.
I am languid in a bad way I am languid in a good way!
1. Verrition: an untranslatable term Césaire used to indicate a kind of sweeping. Not really: it was a term to indicate the double jouissance of licking words, over and over again. But that is not unlike sweeping, and sweeping is not unlike action painting, your heft and back pushing bristles as they sound off, marking…
“In a moment of growing backlash towards the transgender community, I’ve been drawn to the history books. The story of a Victorian man whose death in 1893 became a sensationalised headline reminds us that gender non-conforming people have always been here.”
