Meeting Tim Winton

Source: Penguin Books Australia

By Olivia. C
Last night, I had the privilege of attending a live interview with the one, the only Tim Winton. Held in Melbourne's grand Town Hall, it was understandably packed with a hundred or so of Winton's avid fans. Assuming I was going to get a front row seat I arrived fifteen minutes early, only to find that the crowd had well and truly beat me to it. A photo with the man himself, and as I later found out, an opportunity to get my book personally signed was clearly out of the question.

Conducted by the Director of The Wheeler Centre Michael Williams, the interview was a discussion based on Tim Winton’s latest novel, Eyrie. Having bought a ticket weeks in advance, I had decided not to read Eyrie until I had received my signed copy on the night. A decision I soon regretted.

Like ABC’s first Tuesday book club, the interview focussed largely on the finer details of Eyrie such as the protagonist’s relationships with other characters and other themes of the novel. I found this mildly disappointing, as I was not only completely unfamiliar with the storyline but I was also hoping to hear more about Tim Winton’s life as a writer. Like how he finds inspiration for his novels, his writing process or even how he handles writer’s block and procrastination.  I wanted to know more about the author, not the novel.

Having studied some of his work in High School (Lockie Leonard: Scumbuster in Year seven and Minimum of Two in Year eleven), I had slowly come to love Tim Winton’s style of writing. I had always thought that he was a big tosser, living it up in Western Australia.  From all of the sycophantic reviews I had read, it was definitely how I imagined him to be. However, as I sat there in the audience last night I saw a side to Tim Winton I didn’t expect. Something that none of the reviews had previously revealed.

A snapshot from the interview. Tim Winton (Left) Michael Williams (Right) Source: Twitter @PenguinBooksAus

Out of the all reviews I’d read and of all the interviews I’m seen on TV, I had no idea that Tim Winton was uncomfortable with public speaking. He unashamedly admitted this as he took to the stage. Whether it was nerves or the bright stage lights, this fear was soon assuaged as he began reading the first few pages of Eyrie.

Book reviews aside, Tim Winton is just like you and me. The only difference being that he’s a household name and you and I are not.

As the interview progressed, more was revealed. A brief insight into Tim’s personal life, his opinions on past Australian politics and the editing process behind Eyrie was presented to the audience. Before too long, the interview had come to an end.

If I could take anything away from last night, it’s that when it comes to Tim Winton there is more than meets the eye. Tim Winton is many things, but he is (thankfully) not the tosser his reviewers make him out to be.

5 Games Missing Small Features that would make a World of Difference

1. Hotline Miami

Source: official playstation magazine

Hotline Miami is an indie game that took the gaming world by storm. Many people praised its brutal combat and amazing OST. Since it did so well it was ported from the PC to Xbox 360, PS3 and PS Vita.

Unfortunately it was a one to one port. I say unfortunately because the controls weren't adapted at all when making the switch. The aiming suddenly turned from intuitive to frustrating.

What they need is to add a laser sight showing where Jacket is aiming.

My Thoughts On: First Person Shooters

They're the big hitters. Call Of Duty, Battlefield, Counterstrike. What do they all have in common? They all have a huge online multiplayer scene. Their success in the market lives and dies on how many people play multiplayer. Everyone I know seems to play it in one way or another. Its market saturation is ridiculous. Their single player campaigns are not talked about much. Spec Ops: The Line was one the few to get praise for its single player story at all.

Their multiplayer is clearly the seller. Is it just the appeal of killing random people and playing with friends? Is it using VoIP to insult people as you end their kill streak? Perhaps I'd understand if I was any good at them.

I know that feel bro.

 On one level I understand the idea of competitive play. I understand how it feels to be so in tune with a game's mechanics that friends no longer want to play with you. I understand wanting to find people of a higher level to pit yourself against. I understand the thrill when you play particularly well or dominate a match. I'm not a fan of FPS's, but I get it, I really do.

This needs to not be a thing, ever.

FPS's and players in general get a bad rap and I don't really think it's fair. Sure they saturate the market and their advertising is a little obnoxious, but I think there is some merit to at least the competitive side of FPS gaming.

-Stephen Snook

Love & Other Bruises

Tess Duncan

I went into Readings to buy a book, Craig Sherborne’s new novel ‘The Amateur Science of Love‘. I couldn’t be bothered with a self-help search amongst the displays so approached the counter, a woman served me eventually and I stated my request.

 

She looked puzzled, but earnest, queried the book’s title and author. I repeated them and added the publisher. ‘No, No. They didn’t have it’. She checked on Google, The book didn’t exist. I re-stated the title. I assured her that Google knew of it.

 

 ‘Oh Right…. ‘. Keys clicked. ‘No Nothing’

‘The Amateur Science …of Life’??. is ..

 
‘…of Love’.

 

‘Oh of Love??? What’s the title again?’

 
 I repeated it.
 

 ‘Aah’, she looked inspired. ‘I know where to find it’, approached the shop’s Science section.

 ‘No’, I said, ‘It’s not a science book’.

 Puzzlement increasing, she renewed her efforts with the shop’s data base. More conversation as we sorted out the word ‘amateur’.

 ‘Ah we have it’, she announced triumphantly. ‘It is somewhere in the shop. We’ll find it’.

 

A re-assuring smile anticipating success, she sped to self-help section. ‘No’, I said, ‘It won’t be there, unless it’s under self-assisted suicides’. She soldiered bravely on.

 

Abandoning all hope, I wandered over to Joyce Carol Oates’ recent publication, ‘The Widow’s Story’ chronicling her struggle to adjust to her husband’s sudden passing. The cover of the book, white with gold embossing looked appropriate for a death. I clutched it underarm.

 

After many consultations between the staff and an apparent total shop dismantlement, the book eventually surrendered. It was laid on the shop counter with great ceremony like captured battle standards from Culloden, signifying both the victory and the rout. Someone’s fight had been won. It wasn’t mine though.

 

Having already garnered some knowledge that the book’s contents recount a black love story, I mused on the wit of the cover, two galahs; pretty colours, pretty birds, but still galahs.

 

The book’s back cover blurb, complemented by the critics’ reviews, gave the warning that can be summarised as ‘this is saturated pain’. As promised, the love sickness descriptions contained the appropriate devastation of the human heart.

I made it to page fifty-five. I have enough devastation of my own.

 I think I’ll try Joyce.

http://textpublishing.com.au/books-and-authors/book/the-amateur-science-of-love/

The Stagnation of Intelligence

Source: Mod DB

Video games have advanced a lot over the past ten years. Graphics, physics, animations and net code have all advanced exponentially over the years. But artificial intelligence hasn't had any big leaps since F.E.A.R. came out. A game which was released eight years ago. I don't think I need to elaborate on just how long this is in relation to technology. There's a good reason for this too. 

My Rum Diary – Part Two

By Mandy DelVecchio

So there we were, 7 days into our Cuban adventure, 6 nights of rum drinking under our belt and yet still plagued by the distasteful and seemingly antisocial ‘rum face'. Something had to give.

Week two, after a grueling 19-hour train ride, we landed on the shores of the colourful and historical Caribbean city of Santiago de Cuba. Having made contact with our host and with the knowledge that later in the evening we would be attending a street fiesta – which would of course involve rum, my compadres and I decided then and there that we would not leave the casa until we had removed our rum face.

We bought a bottle of the local rum – which was an even finer drop than Havana Club, made our way to the rooftop of the casa we were staying in, where we set up 3 deck chairs and began to pass the bottle. The evening was thick and balmy and the mood was light. One swig after another my sister, my best mate and myself consumed the bottle of rum, each time attempting a smoother passage than the previous. We didn’t stop drinking until we were certain we’d accomplished our mission.

Perhaps it was the practice, perhaps it was our cheerleading or perhaps it was the fact that by the end we were so completely blotto, we couldn’t feel a thing. I can’t be too sure. But whatever it was, I am sure of one thing – on that rooftop that steamy night, we sipped and slugged and slurped, suave, suave, until we’d exorcised our rum face.

For the following 21 days we drank like pirates, we danced like Cubans and we never again screwed up our faces. Affectionately named the three hermanas cubana, our rum drinking had gained us the rites of passage and we became honorary citizens. Salut!

                                                                ...


Needless to say since then I have acquired a taste for rum. However, nothing this side of the planet has even come close to experience we shared on that little island they call the ‘Pearl of the Caribbean’…

That was until one evening recently in Melbourne. It was a warm night and the three of us had gotten together for a drink. After a few beers, and a wander through Fitzroy, we stumbled across Los Barbudos –an oasis amongst the northside hipster conventionality.

A dimly lit bar at the city end of Smith Street, Los Barbudos – named after Fidel Castro's beloved baseball team, has managed to capture the essence of Cuba. More importantly Los Barbudos has managed to capture the essence of drinking rum! Their cocktail list is amazing and every one featuring the juice of Cuba. Fortunately one does not have to exorcise their rum face before downing any of these masterpieces, as they are deliciously easy to drink.

So what happened when the three hermanas cubana found Los Barbudos? They sat in the dark and drank their weekly wage in Papa Hemingway Dacquiris. And while reminiscing over the trip of a lifetime, many a face was screwed!

My Rum Diary – Part One.

By Mandy DelVecchio

Our first night in Cuba was a celebration in many respects – I had travelled across the globe from Melbourne, my sister from London and my best mate from Japan, the three of us had not had a drink together in over two years. On top of that we were finally in Havana, Cuba, a dream in itself! So with cause enough for celebration, the accent turned quickly toward what to drink – isn’t it obvious? When in Cuba… drink rum!

We headed to the nearest shop – and I use the word ‘shop’ extremely loosely, remembering we were in a communist country and most ‘shops’ in Cuba consist of so few items they’d more correctly be labeled a ‘storeroom’. Thankfully for us, one of the items that always feature heavily in a Cuban ‘storeroom’ was rum.

For around AUS$5 we bought one bottle of Havana Club, one bottle of unrecognisable cola and a handful of limes. We made our way back to our casa with our wares and prepared for a celebration. We spent that first evening catching up and consuming the only rum cocktail we knew of,  the cuba libre.

Much to our liking, we very quickly learned that drinking rum was less of a celebration and more of a past time in Cuba.

While the cuba libres served their purpose for the first few evenings of our month long journey, after making Cuban friends and spending a lot of time amongst the locals, we soon discovered two things:

1. Rum was going to be offered to us regularly and in varying circumstances – it would prove way too difficult to carry around a bottle of cola everywhere we went; and 
2. Rum was sold on every corner and was cheap, cheaper than cola and beer and more readily available than water.

We were going to have to learn to drink rum the way the Cubans drink rum – all day, every day... and neat.

Determined to fit in with our new Cuban friends, we started to accept the offers of rum. Morning noon and night, bottles were flung in our face along with the words ‘suave, suave’, meaning ‘smooth’.

On a daily basis we were coaxed to take small sips of the rum, and we obliged. However, the motion of swilling rum from the bottle like a pirate, involuntarily brought on a contortion in our faces that we affectionately coined “the rum face”. Although the rum face brought great entertainment to our Cuban friends – they splattered and giggled as they watched us struggle to be suave, suave with our rum ingestion, it started to bring us great shame.

We had to get rid of our rum face.

5 Arcade Features Missing in Modern Video Games (Part Two)

4. Local Multiplayer

Source: Flashing Blade 

This feature is diminishing very quickly from modern games. There was a time when if you thought of co-op you instantly thought of 2-4 people on a couch playing the game in the same room. Now if you mention it most would think of online interaction.

There is nothing wrong with online multiplayer, in fact I'd say that it's a great feature to include. But couch multiplayer is something that I feel that many of us are missing. It feels ridiculous that if I want to play a game with my friend he's better off playing in a completely different house than I am because it's easier and more efficient.

5 Arcade Features Missing in Modern Video Games (Part One)

1. Fear of Death

Source: Fraserking  
(Ghosts and Goblins)

This is probably the most important loss we've experienced transitioning away from the arcade format. Games are a lot more fun when you your death has a consequence that you don't want to experience. Arcades were based around this very feature. Every time you died you lost money from your wallet.

I'm not saying we should introduce micro-transactions for lives because no one wants this, however if every time you died you permanently lost significant progress towards your goal you would play a lot more carefully and more importantly you would try your best, to be the best.

By Emily. G

Pokémon works on a tried and true formula. The game has been built on the same basic concept since its inception. Although new features are added with every iteration, the player strives toward the same goal in every game. This is, I feel, part of the series' charm. The familiarity is endearing, perhaps even nostalgic to the older generations of Pokémon fans.

Pokémon X and Y is no exception. Though the exciting new additions are vast, what ultimately attracts gamers is the very same idea that got them hooked on the franchise way back when.

I have been playing X since the release date, and I am slowly reaching the main storyline's proverbial "finish line". The 3DS' 3D capabilities are put to use quite beautifully, though this is not a game that is very 3D-heavy. Small touches, such as the ability to customise the player character's looks (having the opportunity to choose from a variety of skin colours is particularly notable) add an additional level of excitement, and the game's online capabilities are fantastic. Added features such as Pokémon-amie (a clever play on the French phrase "mon amie" - my friend), which allows you to pet, feed, and play with your Pokémon, are charming and will delight younger first-time players.

This is a concept unlikely to go stale anytime soon. Pokémon has held its ground for seventeen years and will stay perched atop its pop-culture throne forever.

Emily Greenwood

Perils of Plagiarism

Tess Duncan

I wanted to tell the story of a surprise visit to a lover, an early morning detour on the way to work.

 It started well enough. 

‘It ‘s seven a.m. T
he traffic caterpillars 
Along the highway’ 

 I was pleased with these opening lines. They scanned easily, captured the peak traffic volume hiccup action. 

My mind wandered to my heroine’s eventual destination. 

Entering the house via the unlocked back door into the hush of a sleeping house, she would inhale its soft scented air, feel the security that a confined house and hallways with doors gives; move stealthily along the corridor. 

“The floor creaks her arrival”. Senses alert, growing crescendo. The room looms, a darkened cave, womb-like warmth and nourishment. 

Then to the lovers’ embrace. He is fast asleep, naked under the blankets. Heavens Gates’ promises beckon. 

Skipping over both the undressing and the odyssey to the bed in an unknown room, in the dark without mishap, the challenge was to describe the first physical contact. 

Let’s start with the sheets, I thought. Ah yes… the sheets… the first sensation, doorway to the thrilling embrace… How to describe the sheets’ texture and temperature and their part in fuelling anticipation for the AND THEN….

No better analogy presented itself than a fellow author’s opening sentence in a recent publication. An unashamed word-magpie, I had not the slightest qualm in filching. I savoured the words…“warm-water soft”….  Ah exactly…. Such a good fit I thought; a slick theft. 

I re-lived the moment I first heard them. These words had evoked a physical sensation, caught and rolled me round those sheets and wrapped me secure in sensory pleasure. Yes… the sheets in my story will be “warm-water soft”. I would have my lovers’ flight on gossamer wings predicated in “warm-water soft” sheets. 

Oh Dear…Oh Dear…. Oh Dear… Buggar!…….He’s wet the bed.<SIGH> Not the climax I’d planned. 

The perils of plagiarism

www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/plagiarism.html