![]() ![]() That he had other engagements was perhaps for the better-his presence would have been too much for the little golf club to bear. Coetzee was due to make the drive from Adelaide. Attendees included Murnane’s tireless publisher at Giramondo Publishing, Ivor Indyk Alexis Wright, another of Australia’s major writers academics poets and passionate readers. Rumors abounded that noted fan J. The attendance for the symposium was capped at forty people-the club is cozy and the kitchen only able to turn out so many scones and sandwiches. It had views of the golf course, the flags for each distant hole waving between spindly gum trees. The club was furnished with vinyl chairs and tables with the covers tacked on. ![]() The room on this occasion was a small golf club in Goroke, Murnane’s rural hometown in Victoria, Australia, not far from the state border. We had gathered from faraway places to attend “Another World in This One,” a one-day symposium on Murnane’s fiction, and to mark the publication of what is by every account his final novel, Border Districts. He was recently treated for prostate cancer, and yet he’s still the sprightliest person in the room. An author who retired long ago, then went on to produce his richest work. A Luddite who uses his smartphone to google himself. The Australian writer Gerald Murnane is a man of profound contradictions. The Goroke Golf Club in Victoria, Australia. ![]()
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