Yesterday while in the middle of a mammoth clean-up, I came across an invitation to the farewell lunch in Sydney that his mates at The Australian were having for its former literary editor James Hall ('Jim in person but never in print') on the occasion of his retirement.
This invitation was two years old, but something had made me keep it -- possibly the lovely little drawing of a small dog alone on a stage, watching the curtain come down. I assumed this was a reference to the haunting and quite brilliant essay Jim wrote a few years ago while on holidays in Italy, about a stray dog that had adopted him and was following him around. Looking at the invitation, I recalled the essay clearly, and wondered whether he'd gone travelling again since he retired.
So it was quite a shock, a few hours later, to open The Australian and see that he had died of a heart attack in the middle of a tennis match. He was only 71. I wrote book reviews for him for several years and he was, like most other literary editors I've known, a pleasure to work for and with: thoughtful about his commissions, open to suggestion, tolerant of my occasional errors and screw-ups and apologetic about his own.
The obituary yesterday mentioned that at the very moment his heart attacked him, he was in the process of hitting a, if not the, winning stroke in the tennis match. I hope this wasn't poetic license; it does seem like a good way to go. And I hope he meets up with that Italian hound again, somewhere in the life to come.
Is James' essay available online anywhere, Kerryn?
ReplyDeleteThanks for this posting Kerryn (and I have the same query as Ron). I was at the farewell dinner here in Sydney, and it was a terrific send-off. A beautifully organised meal at a Double Bay, a full cast of writers, journos, and reviewers - and you know you're loved when your former staff write you poetry! Sad, in restrospect, to think he had so little time left. Coy Lurker
ReplyDeleteCoy, if I'd known how little time he had left, I probably would have flown to Sydney for the dinner, and did in fact give it serious thought in any case. I have tried to do a search for the Italian story but I can't remember the title. I might email Murray Waldren, who might know. Lots of mights there, I know.
ReplyDeleteAlas, unless Google is less efficient than I thought, it's not online -- but I did, one subscription to the Oz's online archive service later, find it. It's shorter, simpler and sweeter than I remember, but still packing a huge punch with that haunting, spooky, instant bond between man and dog. Titled 'Ciao, Blackie', it was published in The Australian on Saturday August 16th 2003, one day short of two years before Jim's death. I was wrong about writing from Italy; he wrote the piece after he had come home, as he says at the end:
ReplyDelete"Back home, as I go to work each day, I have the insane feeling I shall turn the corner of our street and meet him bounding toward me. There are tears in my eyes as I write this. Perhaps I might see him on the Sorrento webcamera as it sweeps the town. I don't know whether I could stand it. But it would be nice to see this lovely creature once more."
Nice. As a currently dogless dog-person I'm a sucker for writing about dogs. (There's a lovely essay, by the way, by the screenwriter of Chinatown - whose name I forget - about writing this movie on Catalina Island with his dog by his side). Your quote also reminds me of a very bedraggled mutt my partner and I kept seeing by the sea in Naples, which we decided was the "dog of despair". I'm sorry I missed JH's piece first time round - will try to get it. Thanks! Coy
ReplyDeleteKerryn, I searched Google too before making my comment and was disappointed not to find any clues.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the information on the link to the Oz.
Susan, thank you -- I didn't publish it in its entirety as a separate post because I was sure there would be copyright issues, and I fear the same applies to comments. I'm assuming you would know about this, but I might check with the Oz.
ReplyDeleteYes, please check. I may have been too quick in my enthusiasm to share his lovely piece of writing. I hope it can be excused in the spirit of a tribute.
ReplyDeleteThanks Susan. This piece is lovely - partly because it's told so humbly. I had a lump in my throat by the end. Coy
ReplyDeleteThat is a beautiful thing to share. I hope no-one dares to make trouble over it, because it is a wonderful tribute to someone I have never even thought of and now wish I'd met -- both the story and the post. Thanks.
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