This was published 3 months ago
What I learnt from visiting 55 Australian towns in two months
I’m just back from a grand adventure: two months on the road, talking in libraries and town halls, in bookshops and in pubs.
In Woy Woy, 200 people turned up; in one outer Melbourne suburb, it was an audience of four. I went to Brisbane and Hobart, but also to country towns such as Crookwell, Scone and Moruya. As one friend put it: “Richard, there is no town so small it can consider itself safe from one of your visits.”
Richard Glover, on tour.
I had enormous fun, of course, but what did I learn by visiting those 55 regional towns and city suburbs? Still brushing the dust from my boots, I’m trying to collect my over-excited thoughts.
First thought: Face-to-Face Australia is such a different place to Facebook Australia. Facebook Australia – by which I mean social media more generally – is, much of the time, antagonistic, divisive, angry and humourless. By contrast, Face-to-Face Australia, by which I mean actual Australia, is pure bliss.
People are ready to laugh, express great optimism about their country, and if they disagree with a point that’s been made, do so with good humour. After those 55 talks, I had only one email of complaint. And that was from a Kiwi, who didn’t like my joke about their wine.
People are also cheerfully supportive of what is sometimes derided as “the mainstream media”. They love their Sydney Morning Herald, for instance, and say they couldn’t live without the ABC. Both these ideas were expressed to me hundreds of times. I’ve always thought of newspaper columns and radio programs as transitory things, forgotten a moment after they are read or heard. But here were people reminding me of things from decades before, moments that became part of their own story.
Second thought: support your local bookshop. In places like Brisbane and Melbourne, I was sent to do the rounds of the big suburban shopping malls. In each place, I’d spend 20 minutes or so signing books, usually leaning on the corner of the sales counter, and thus able to listen into the conversations between bookseller and customer. I heard thoughtful discussions almost everywhere.
To choose one from many: at Dymocks in Melbourne’s Doncaster a woman came to the counter and described a young relative who needed inspiration. She described the teenager in some detail, the bookseller, despite the chaos of the Christmas rush, hanging on her every word. What book might suit her relative?
The bookseller asked more questions, much in the manner of a doctor considering a prescription, before coming up with the suggestion of The Outsiders by SE Hinton. Meticulously, and off the top of her head, she then described the plot in some detail and explained how its values might intersect with the needs of that particular prospective reader. The customer bought the book. “Who knows?” I thought, “that book might change his life”. Try that on Amazon!
Third lesson of the road trip: in both country towns and the suburbs of big cities, libraries are full of life. If anyone still has the image of the forbidding librarian, whispering “shoosh” to a mostly empty room, I suggest a visit to their local library.
As one friend put it: “Richard, there is no town so small it can consider itself safe from one of your visits”.
After two months in which I visited a library most days, I can report they are always bustling with life – full of packs of school students, heads buried in homework, of reading circles for children, author talks, computer lessons and various sorts of social inclusion. A librarian who, spotted at one moment, seems much like a social worker, helping a troubled soul, is spotted a moment later filling the role of literary expert. “Tell me about the books you’ve recently enjoyed”, they’ll ask a patron, before suggesting some fresh leads.
I loved, too, how the books on the shelves reflect the district – the local histories and farming books in a country town; the surfing magazines down the South Coast; the shelves of novels in Korean in one Sydney suburb. “Who needs libraries, it’s all on the internet,” is a view that won’t survive a single visit.
Fourth thought: I don’t mean to be patronising to regional Australia, and I understand you’ve had great coffee and fine food in nearly every town for 20 years. But that qualifying “nearly” is no longer necessary. I drove thousands of kilometres and never had a bad meal or a bad cup of coffee. At one joint, they even had leaf tea, which is one up on the big smoke.
Fifth thought: despite the growing optimism I felt during my trip, I do wonder if someone couldn’t fix a few of the potholes. And how come you often can’t get phone reception when you are more than 10 minutes from the nearest town?
Despite those two quibbles, my big adventure made me fall in love all over again with Australia and Australians. It’s a beautiful place, full of wonderful people. All you need to do is log out of social media and hit the road.
Taking care, of course, to miss all the potholes.
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