John Clarke (2) (1948–2017)

John Clarke was one of Australia's most beloved satirists. This short volume imagines a host of Australian poets that could have been, using parodies of famous poets from abroad. There's Thomas 'The Tank' Hardy, Very Manly Hopkins, Rabbi Burns, R.A.C.V Milne (you have to be Australian to get that joke), b.b. hummings, Nob Dylan, and many more.

It's thoroughly silly, rather in the style of those mid-20th century revues and periodicals that were humorous more for the shared laughs in the moment than for any kind of lasting impact (and some of the 'contemporary' poetic parodies will fade faster than the classic ones). Still, it's a reminder of a unique comic voice - and a neat hat-tip to intellectual Australia's conflicted relationship with our mother culture .… (plus d'informations)

What an unusual, charming quasi-novel this is!

John Clarke was one of Australia's supreme satirists, and here he daringly creates an entire novel out of just two concepts: gags about tennis and jokes about great minds of the 20th century. Styled as a series of daily reports on a tennis tournament in Paris, we witness the arguments, heroics, controversies and badinage that emerge from the world's most famous personages on the court. Virginia Woolf, Frida Kahlo, Agatha Christie, Rosa Luxemberg, Albert Einstein, TS Eliot, George Orwell, Marcel Proust... the list is seemingly endless.

Clarke seems to have taken his inspiration from the kind of "university humour" found in the more intellectual magazines of his youth. If you don't have a working knowledge of the output of Tristan Tzara or Christina Stead, you may be overwhelmed. (And if you don't like tennis, prepare to be confounded!) Those who persist may still find themselves exhausted by the repetitive nature of the material; indeed, this feels like it would work well as a weekly serialisation rather than a one- or two-session read. And any reader will face the vicissitudes of their own areas of knowledge and styles of humour - the jokes range from the obvious (a crowd left waiting for Beckett on a court with a lone tree as set dressing) to the niche (Carol Reed being the 'third man' to take a set from another player). Still, who wouldn't enjoy a pensive umpire Rodin, cocksure Ayn Rand cursing at the press, Einstein questioning whether the match feels as long for him as it does for the crowd, and Proust's epic response to a simple question at the post-match conference? Clarke describes Scott Fitzgerald as a man "who looks to many Europeans to be the quintessential American, and to many Americans like something out of a play". Clarke also allows his skill for imitation to emerge from the fray, such as when he mimics the celebrated bon mots of Wilde: "A gentleman should always be serious. It amuses one's butler and fortifies the religious convictions of one's mother."

The extent of Clarke's game playing (pardon the pun) is made clear in the appendix, where he lists in detail the scores of every match in the tournament. Several hundred of them, many of which are not mentioned in the text itself. It's bewildering stuff.

At the heart of this novel, one supposes, is a question about how we as a culture value our literary, philosophical, and social minds. I'm a tennis lover myself, but Clarke rightly questions why we send rabid packs of photographers to interrogate anyone who hits a ball over a net (or successfully launches a reality television show) yet we allow the minds that have transformed our world and our culture to languish, save late-night debates in university dorm rooms and smoky coffee houses.

Something unique in the annals of Australian literature.… (plus d'informations)

In The Even More Complete Book of Australian Verse John Clarke, one of the great satirists, turns his attention to poetry and reveals how nearly all of the world's great poets were really Australian. He presents selections from the works of literary legends such as Rabbi Burns, Very Manly Hopkins, b.b. hummings and Carol Lewis (renowned author of Alison Wonderland and Who are You Looking At?).

The book has been through a few editions from 1989 to 2003, so some of the target's of Clarke's satire may be a bit obscure to a contemporary audience, and might make little sense to a audience not au fait with Australian politics and sport. I'm not a huge poetry reader but recognised enough of the references to get a lot of belly laughs; those more familiar with the poetry that Clarke is lampooning will get a lot more out of it.… (plus d'informations)