Look, I’ll admit it. I loved literature but I initially found Shakespeare hard work. We studied one play every year at high school. ‘Romeo and Juliet’. ‘Macbeth’. ‘The Merchant of Venice’. They are the ones that spring to mind. I remember the terrible Dire Straits song that we had to listen to (our teacher being very ‘modern’) and a lot of wringing hands — blood that could never wash off. I remember little deaths and the screams of laughter when our teacher, blushing, revealed what those words meant. …

Cinema that grabs you by the scruff of the neck and gives you a good shake, pulling you into a mother’s den of a suburban underworld. From the opening scene, the original Animal Kingdom film (now adapted as a TV series) is unrelenting, drawing us into to a world where young crim brothers fight each other and a bunch of ratbag cops to survive. David Michôd (formerly mild-mannered editor at IF Magazine) is a VCA graduate…

At the Sydney Writers’ Festival, crime fiction writer Tara Moss appeared on a panel with Irvine Welsh and Damon Young, talking about writing the body. …

Through Richard Flanagan’s writing flows the destructive power of love, the lyricism of horror, the revisioning of Tasmania, and the gaps between words and action. High school dropout. Bush labourer. Rhodes scholar. River guide. Environmental activist. Film director. Man Booker prize winner. Indigenous Literacy Foundation ambassador. Whatever way you twist…

The Australian artist in conversation about ‘Polyverse’, Nick Cave and dress-ups The photo is of Nick Cave. But it’s not the Nick Cave we’ve come to expect. Gone is the black-and-white aesthetic, the gothic melancholy and rock’n’roll cool. Instead it’s Nick Cave as perverse Snow White, in blue wig and…

a collaboration between Kirsten Krauth and Kirsten Tranter Warning: The following article will ruin everything for you if you haven’t yet seen Fleabag seasons 1 and 2: Spoilers ahead. The second and final season of Fleabag just aired to almost universal superlative critical acclaim, admired for the deft blend of…

Carriageworks, the venue for the 2019 Sydney Writers’ Festival, is a maze of open staircases, exposed metal beams and factory floor. As US novelist Meg Wolitzer winds her way into the dingy heart of the building, it seems a far cry from the glamorous life she portrays in The Wife…

We are walking down a busy Fitzroy street on a Sunday afternoon. Ahead of me, two women are decked out in electric blue and purple tights, bottoms bouncing in thong leotards. Behind, a friend is wrapped in a golden cape, her face covered with a red mask. I am wearing…

The sun is just rising behind the concrete skyline, jutting above and reflected in the lake in front of us, and my teacher asks whether I’ve done tai chi before. About twenty years ago. Do you remember what kind? She lists some options but I’m not sure. She nods and goes around the small circle, eight of us. Today we’re learning the Chen style. We start with our feet solid in the earth, bent knees, arms soft. Like you’re hugging a tree.