On Sunday morning at 10:15, I sat in an inapproriately dark room at the Malthouse and watched a former favourite author Gerald Murnane be interviewed as part of the Melbourne Writers Festival for $18. It has been 5 years since I picked up one of his books, and that one was a little patchy, but I’m glad I went to see him, because he’s a rarely sighted species who was modest, funny and wonderfully eccentric. 
Central to most of his work are the mental mappings he makes between the events of his life and the way events are recorded and recalled in his memory. For instance he mentioned that he conceives of his life as one long journey down Bell Street between where he was born and where he lives now – with the cross roads being the hobbies and diversions of his life. His writing is very much like that – a fascination with direction and geography and the significance of this. Living in the same northern suburbs as myself, I connected with this when I first discovered his writing, and continue to do so when I have thoughts about the property I owned in Northern Bendigo for 3 years. Afterwards I lined up and had him scratch “For Darren” on the title page of his acknowledged second last book “Invisible, yet pervasive Lilacs”, and said a few nervous words of thanks. For a man who “hasn’t written a book that ever made any money” he was charming and inspiring, and I was in a great mood all day afterwards.