The Decline of the Australian

We learn things in libraries.  Books are serious business.  Humorous books are no exception, it seems.  They're books.  They must be serious too.  We need a good reason to laugh.

In Australia, the new Russell Prize for Humour Writing was recently awarded.  Alex Byrne – not the winner, but the NSW State Librarian & Chief Executive – wrote:

‘Humour writing is not an easy genre to master, and Bernard Cohen and his fellow shortlisted authors have shown how humour is not only there to entertain us but to, perhaps more importantly, raise and promote important discussions about our contemporary culture.’

Raise, promote.  It sounds like the job I never had.  I like the perhaps more importantly.  I find it, well, humorous.  Why not send it in for the next Prize?  It could make some noise.  Sorry, Al, to pick you off like this – I say silly things too – but you did poke your snout above the shelves.  Just keep it down a bit.  You don’t need me to tell you.  I scribble fragments.  You’ve got whole libraries to be quiet in.        

Before I go on – I do go on – I’d better explain the title, The Decline of the Australian.  It doesn’t sound nice, does it?  Not if you’re Australian.  I borrowed it from the BBC – precisely the kind of behaviour that needs to be discussed.  

The BBC article explores why fewer Australians are doing unskilled jobs in London.  Either they don’t need to top up their travel money thanks to the strong Australian dollar, or they're doing professional work like accountancy, or they can’t get a UK visa in the first place, and are going to Bali instead.  One Australian writer said that young Australians have “come of age culturally” and are just not bothering to visit London.  They don’t have to prove themselves now.  No more borrowing.  They’re as good as Britain.

Confusing increased affluence with cultural maturity – that’s another thing Australians are good at.  The Chair judge, Kathryn Heyman, does not make the same mistake.  She knows we’re still screwed up, noting the ‘nervy restlessness in the Australian psyche.’  The winning entry, she goes on, gives us the ‘most elegant kick in the teeth we never knew we needed,’

There were 57 submissions for the 2015 Russell Prize.  At $66 a submission, plus 5 copies of each text in paperback, that makes … a lot of numbers.  Serious business.  The taxman could be interested if no one else.  Perhaps not even him.  The guidelines point out: The provision of the prize money may be subject to the GST.  Not sure yet?  It's that psyche again, or else a one-liner, the trotter in the teeth we weren’t expecting. 

The Chief Executive also refers to the ‘unique Australian sense of humour.’  Come on, Al, we all know where that hails from.  It’s as British as pork pies, which have VAT sometimes.  That’s UK GST, not mad pig disease.  

When he mentioned our contemporary culture, he meant, of course, Australian.  If the Russell Prize focuses on that, it may or may not inspire a sense of identity, but it will, without doubt, encourage insularity. How can culture be invigorated by placing limits on creative expression?  Let writers write, and the rest of us can say, ‘That’s real literature,’ not just ‘real Australian.’

Patrick White won the Nobel Prize for Literature.  He was Australian.  It’s a pretty big prize.  But it wasn’t big enough.  For the psyche, I mean.  Prizes are good.  Next time, though, librarians of Sydney, you might make it ‘The Russell Prize for Serious Humour Writing’ so writers who aren’t serious will know.