creativity

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review in TEXT: My Tongue is My Own, a life of Gwen Harwood by Ann-Marie Priest

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I was very honoured to review Ann-Marie Priest’s wonderful book My Tongue is My Own: A Life of Gwen Harwood for TEXT Journal of Writing and Writing Courses last month. It’s published now and you can read it here.

It took me some time to read and digest this incredible, meticulously researched and detailed biography of one of Australia’s most significant poets of the last century. There seemed a lighthearted wink from Gwen Harwood (and perhaps Ann-Marie Priest too), towards the end, where Priest recounts the poet declaring her hatred for writing reviews: “It seems insulting to praise or dismiss in a few pages work that has taken years to write” (p.313) which sums up my thoughts exactly. For a while I wasn’t sure how I was ever going to do justice to this very accomplished biography! As a result, my review could not be described as succinct but I wanted to give this book the time and attention it deserved, as its author does to her subject.

As a Tasmanian, this book was particularly enjoyable as there are so many familiar names and sites. Gwen Harwood’s Hobart of the 1950s and 1960s was also the Hobart my own parents grew up in. While I was reading it, I asked my father if his parents, who were very much part of the town’s artsy set (his words) at the time, had known the Harwoods. He couldn’t recall, but when I mentioned James McCauley, a close friend of both Bill and Gwen Harwood who is mentioned often in the book, his eyes lit up.

“I bought a car off his widow in 1977,” he said. “Mrs McCauley on Sandy Bay Road. A grey Holden FD. Nice little car.”

I also asked a friend of mine, a writer who lives in New Zealand now but who was raised in Hobart, if she had known Gwen Harwood too. It seemed likely, as she was a budding poet in the early 1990s. She smiled and told me about a workshop Gwen gave at Elizabeth College when she was doing her HSC.

“She read my poem aloud to the group and said she liked the imagery. I then started writing to her. I still remember her address.” Her memories were that Gwen was more than willing to make time for anyone who showed an inclination for writing, which Ann-Marie Priest also mentions. I include these two anecdotes here to illustrate my great amusement at the inter-connectedness of life in Hobart which is still very much a thing - you might not know the individual personally, but you’ll only ever be a few degrees of separation away :)

Thank you again TEXT for asking me to review this amazing book, which I highly recommend to anyone interested in poetry, feminism, twentieth-century Australia, or all three!

Please note: this blog post has affiliate links with retailers such as Booktopia which means I may receive a commission for a sale that I refer, at no extra cost to you.

interview in australian country style magazine

I am delighted that one of my favourite magazines, Australian Country Style, has featured me and my beloved late grandmother in their April 2022 issue, out today!

If you turn to page 130, there’s a lovely interview with me about my dear Nan, Beth, and her fascinating life, particularly her baking prowess. Nan’s Anzac biscuits have been a huge favourite with my friends and well wishers over the years, and the recipe is also shared in this issue, together with some sweet pictures of Nan in her youth. The shoot was styled beautifully, with vintage tea cups, a touristy tea towel and knitting, all things that remind me of her. It was such a thrill to see it!

Thank you again ACS for featuring us - and if you pick up the issue, I hope you enjoy it!

a jelly-fish

Visible, invisible,
A fluctuating charm,
An amber-colored amethyst
Inhabits it; your arm
Approaches, and
It opens and
It closes;
You have meant
To catch it,
And it shrivels;
You abandon
Your intent—
It opens, and it
Closes and you
Reach for it—
The blue
Surrounding it
Grows cloudy, and
It floats away
From you.

— Marianne Moore (“A Jelly-Fish”)


This morning I woke up from a disorienting dream about someone I haven’t thought about for a long time. In the dream, an encounter was recreated and, unlike what happened in reality all those years ago, I left. I had to swim through a pool of jellyfish to get away. As I tried to cross the pool, and avoid the jellyfish, they multiplied. Not necessarily more dangerous, just harder to avoid. I found that if I swam slowly and carefully, and ironically didn’t fear them, I could pass through safely.

This afternoon, I drew this.

Bad memories are a bit like Marianne Moore’s jellyfish, aren’t they? Visible yet invisible.

But if they’re memories now, then you have already survived. There is nothing to fear. And even if they do show up again, you can swim through.

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letters of our lives

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letters-of-our-lives-philippa-moore

I have some exciting news! For the rest of 2020, my friend and fellow writer Isabel Robinson and I will be collaborating on a project called Letters of our Lives.

Our Story

Phil and Iz met through the blogging community in 2015. Back then, Iz was studying in China and Phil was living and working in London. Both are writers – Phil published her memoir The Latte Years in 2016, the year after Iz began her first blog, Nanjing Nian chronicling her adventures in China. Internet tag followed; a blog comment here, an email there, and in 2017 Phil and Iz became proper penpals, writing long letters about their lives to one another from opposite ends of the world. Phil moved home to Hobart in 2018, and though only Bass Strait now divides them, the correspondence has continued.

They have met twice in person – that’s it!

Letters of our Lives is Phil and Iz’s first creative collaboration.

Our Project – Letters of our Lives

Inspired by the Women of Letters project begun by Marieke Hardy and Michaela McGuire in 2010 to ‘revive the lost art of correspondence’ and ‘showcase brilliant female minds’, Iz (here) and Phil (here) will write a letter each month on a shared theme for the rest of 2020.

Letters of our Lives is also the title of a novel Phil wrote when she was 14. The story followed the lives of two teenage girls, one living in country Tasmania and the other in chic, cosmopolitan Sydney. While that’s not their exact situation (and the story had a tragic ending!), they love the reference to childhood and the value of a carefully composed letter in a world of texts and tweets.

[sidenote from Phil: I found the original Letters of our LIves the other day! Here’s the hand-drawn title!]

letters-of-our-lives-original-philippa-moore

These letters are a response to our lives, inner and outer, past, present and future.

We hope you enjoy our project.

If you’re a writer and would like to join in, we’d be open to it. Please contact either one of us via the contact forms on our blogs.

Yours in correspondence,

Iz and Phil x