‘Her accent is thick. There is dust in it. There is a whiff of snow on mountains and an old-book smell. All of this feels real. The migraine mixes things up like that. She speaks in a way that I can only interpret as scent.’
Griffith Review’s Contributors Circle membership is available exclusively to our contributors, past and present, on an annual subscription basis.
Contributors Circle subscribers are members of a unique community of writers, and are the first to hear about themes and deadlines for upcoming editions, writing competitions and any other opportunities on offer.
For a $100 annual subscription fee, Contributors Circle membership offers an ever-expanding range of benefits, including:
- Annual Premium Subscription (print + digital);
- All entry fees for our major writing prizes and fellowships are waived for members (this currently includes Griffith Review Fellowship rounds, and our annual Novella Project competitions);
- Exclusive eligibility for our annual Contributors Circle Varuna competition. Each year, up to four week-long residencies at Varuna, The Writers’ House are open to Contributors Circle members ONLY. Upon application, judged by Griffith Review staff;
- Advance notice of upcoming edition themes and calls for submissions;
- Public acknowledgement on our website and contributor content featured... Read more
‘For better or worse, the plant had defined Port Augusta for sixty years. This was, after all, a town where people driving back from holiday did not feel they were home until they could see the chimney and powerhouse sitting like a decaying steel ship on the horizon. Not only did the plant dominate the skyline, ash from its furnaces and wastewater from its turbines was pumped into the salt lakes that mark Port Augusta’s eastern boundary, defining the layout and landscape of the town.’
In ‘Waiting for the sun’, from Griffith Review 55: State of Hope, Michael Dulaney looks at the stakeholders and roadblocks along the pathway to renewables as Port Augusta strives to become the solar capital of the country.
‘He couldn’t say for sure that even then he’d realised the ship was sinking. He had dropped the pot and rushed to his cabin to find his savings. Is that something a man does on the brink of death? Perhaps it is.’
In ‘One short mile from land’, from Griffith Review 55: State of Hope, Jane Rawson traces the recollections of George, a survivor of a sunk ship off the coast of South Australia. This piece formed part ofthe novel From the Wreck, which is based on the wrecking in 1859 of the steamship Admella (of which Rawson’s great-great-grandfather was a survivor) and was longlisted for the 2018 Miles Franklin Award.
‘We are kitted with a mast of flooded gum, a linen lugsail, a sweep sail and well-crafted oars. Less than twelve feet, so a small boat to sail in. There is no anchor spare in the colony. Ours is a lump of rock that the sea has speared a hole through and, under Mr Bass’s instruction, I have threaded it with thick rope. We have only two muskets to contest pirates or cannibals, supplies for ten days, no more, and the danger is great.’
In Catherine McKinnon’s ‘Will Martin’, a lowly eighteenth-century ship’s boy provides an insightful perspective on cross-cultural misunderstandings and ‘first contact’ as he accompanies Bass and Flinders on an expedition by sea. After first appearing in Griffith Review 50: Tall Tales Short – The Novella Project III, ‘Will Martin’ was published in McKinnon’s novel Storyland (HarperCollins, 2017).
‘The past is a place that fades from your mind as you drive steadily into the darkness ahead. When you leave your mother, or your childhood, there is no return; instead, you find some way to forge ahead, to remake whatever has been unmade and to strip away those parts of yourself that threaten the life you’ve patched together.’
In his piece from Griffith Review 55: State of Hope, ‘Bigger than heaven’, Shannon Burns struggles to come to terms with his vain and violent mother, and his dysfunctional childhood in Elizabeth North.
Shannon Burns lives in Adelaide with his wife and two sons.
‘None of this occurred to me as a child. I knew the Israels existed, vaguely, but figured they’d forgotten about their kids. Steven, John and Hannah certainly seemed to have erased any memory of them. I was blind to the intricate history of trauma behind each foster-care placement. The trail of broken relationships and bereaved families. The violence that can linger in the mind and body of an abused child.’
After Lech Blaine‘s mother and father adopted the three children of Michael and Mary Israel, the notorious evangelists endeavoured to take them back. In ‘Those who trespass against us’, from Griffith Review 57: Perils of Populism, Blaine records the long and tortuous campaign of stalking and harassment his family was subjected to – and the terrible price it ultimately exacted.