Glad the family visit not only went well but produced this wonderful bit of writing.
Think the saccharine romanticism is a bit missed on my part. Bush poetry and romantic paintings always remind me of being at my grandparents (seeing the prints McCubbin on the walls, being given boys own adventure books, etc). After the world wars too many broken people to widely enjoy the occasional tragedy, but was definitely a guilty pleasure in the Lovett house...
My follow-up piece is about Charles Perryman, the caretaker I quote towards the end of this one. He was a poet, too, among many other things, and he really has been forgotten. One of the reasons is that his style was so very archaic. There wasn't much call, in light of the wars, for the romantic vision Gordon was selling, and that his admirers adopted when it was already on the way out.
An engrossing myth archaeology & social historiography & critical analysis & horseman rebuttals & local mapping, plus a parallel series of Sparrow skirmishes. Hugely enjoyable.
What a pleasure it is to be taken on this sentimental and thoroughly romantic little adventure with you. I fear you're correct when pointing toward post-war tragedy dulling the taste for romantic imperial derring-do, and Gordons poetry, but can't help but feel you caught more than a little of the Gordon bug while ferreting out your own feelings here.
I like the feet-of-clay hero that you find yourself imagining hanging out with.
I find myself satisfied, and eager to seek out some of his verse-- to worship here is certainly the opposite of the hero worship accorded to the orange colossus currently occupying Teddy Roosevelt's desk-saddle, with what can only be described as a positively shameful horseless-ness.
I didn't catch the bug at all. I think some of the bush balladry is good, and I'm fascinated by the life, but I wouldn't describe myself as a fan. What I'm interested in is cultural amnesia and weird rearguard actions against it. If the piece is sentimental or romantic then it's failed.
Glad the family visit not only went well but produced this wonderful bit of writing.
Think the saccharine romanticism is a bit missed on my part. Bush poetry and romantic paintings always remind me of being at my grandparents (seeing the prints McCubbin on the walls, being given boys own adventure books, etc). After the world wars too many broken people to widely enjoy the occasional tragedy, but was definitely a guilty pleasure in the Lovett house...
My follow-up piece is about Charles Perryman, the caretaker I quote towards the end of this one. He was a poet, too, among many other things, and he really has been forgotten. One of the reasons is that his style was so very archaic. There wasn't much call, in light of the wars, for the romantic vision Gordon was selling, and that his admirers adopted when it was already on the way out.
An engrossing myth archaeology & social historiography & critical analysis & horseman rebuttals & local mapping, plus a parallel series of Sparrow skirmishes. Hugely enjoyable.
It's not a skirmish if it's done with affection.
Or so I have been led to believe.
What a pleasure it is to be taken on this sentimental and thoroughly romantic little adventure with you. I fear you're correct when pointing toward post-war tragedy dulling the taste for romantic imperial derring-do, and Gordons poetry, but can't help but feel you caught more than a little of the Gordon bug while ferreting out your own feelings here.
I like the feet-of-clay hero that you find yourself imagining hanging out with.
I find myself satisfied, and eager to seek out some of his verse-- to worship here is certainly the opposite of the hero worship accorded to the orange colossus currently occupying Teddy Roosevelt's desk-saddle, with what can only be described as a positively shameful horseless-ness.
I didn't catch the bug at all. I think some of the bush balladry is good, and I'm fascinated by the life, but I wouldn't describe myself as a fan. What I'm interested in is cultural amnesia and weird rearguard actions against it. If the piece is sentimental or romantic then it's failed.