Australia   : loves and hates

 Wednesday, 20 March 2002

Ah, but I was so much older then. I'm younger than that now. This afternoon, on my way to the pool, I walked into Gould's Book Arcade. Bob Gould, a legendary warrior of the Australian Left, has run an enormous, disorganized, secondhand bookstore in various locations for as long as I can remember. Its current incarnation is five minutes from where I live.

Gould was sitting with his ample belly resting comfortably against the front counter. His hair and beard have turned a beautiful silvery white. I hadn't seen him for quite a few years.

"I'm after a copy of Kundera's The Unbearable Lightness of Being," I told him.

"Third aisle from the left at the back of the shop," he replied. "If I have a copy."

As I walked towards the rear I heard him yell out, "I know you! What's your name?"

I turned back to face him. "Jonathon Delacour," I said.

"That's right. I remember now. You've put on weight. You were thin and intense then. And you called yourself 'John'."

He's right. I've put on a few pounds. And I'm Mr Mellow compared to how high-strung I was when Gould and I used to run into each other at demonstrations in the seventies. I always hated the names my parents gave me -- John Anthony -- so I collapsed them into a single name. (After a dream in which I was standing in line waiting for my name to be called. A voice said: "Jonathon." I thought to myself, "That's me." And, to confirm it, I looked down at the 3x5 index card I was holding and saw it spelled out: J-O-N-A-T-H-O-N.")

I located a copy of Kundera's novel, filed -- miraculously -- under K. Gould's shop is such a shambles that you can never be sure of finding anything. I took it back to the counter and handed it to him with a $50 note. He gave me back two twenties and some change. Later, when I looked inside the front cover, I saw it was $6.95, a third of the new price.

We chatted for fifteen minutes or so about the old days. He told me he's written 500,000 words of a memoir. He'd recently gained access to the dossier that ASIO (the Australian Security Intelligence Organization) had compiled on him through the sixties and seventies. "They did me a great favor," he said, "although they didn't realize it at the time. I didn't keep a diary then and now I have a complete record of my comings and goings."

He gave me a stack of printed sheets, some chapters of the memoir. Knowing Gould and knowing just a fraction of what he's seen and done, it'll make extraordinary reading if he manages to finish it. I promised to read what he'd given me and to come back again to discuss it. Then I headed off to the pool. I can't bear the thought of being intense again but I'd certainly like to be thinner.

11:06:20 PM    comments ()