Author's obituaries lacking

BEST SELLER: The late Australian author Colleen McCullough, pictured in 1977 during a news conference in New York.PHOTO/AP

I WAS saddened to hear recently of the passing of Colleen McCullough, author of the phenomenally successful The Thorn Birds.

It may be a selfish, slightly self-indulgent sentiment, though. Colleen, herself, apparently beset with all manner of health issues, may have actually welcomed her transition to the Other with open arms. We should possibly celebrate along with her in regard to her taking leave of what we generally refer to as the sentient (but often troublesome) realm.

In reading the obituaries, it was informative that the tenor of some of the obituaries themselves rapidly became the main media narrative for the manner in which her multifarious and impressive accomplishments were faint-praised in prime Chauvinese.

For instance, I had no idea that she was initially a neuro-scientist by training, who spent a decade teaching and researching in the department of neurology at Yale medical school before turning author.

With about 30 million international sales, The Thorn Birds left all other Australian novels eating its dust, not to mention her substantial often ground-breaking subsequent oeuvre. Yet The Australian newspaper could only bring itself to summarise her illustrious career thus: "Colleen McCullough, Australia's best-selling author, was a charmer. Plain of feature, and certainly overweight, she was, nevertheless, a woman of wit and warmth."

Nevertheless! Not Raquel Welch, more's the pity - and fat - but never mind all that book stuff nonsense, she could still crack a damn fine joke around the barbie where, of course, all the real action is.

The Australian has no doubt already got its obit for Stephen Hawking sorted. "Steve wasn't up to much on the tennis court, and Rock Hudson he wasn't, but he had a couple of amusing notions about the nature of the universe as Australians know it." The funny thing, though, is that even though I seem to remember fairly immensely enjoying - and admiring - the way Colleen peeled off a good ripping yarn about Outback life and tormented lusty, dusty loves in the Yarra Barra, I can hardly recall a single thing from the narrative itself.

I did see a reference in one of the obituaries cruelly castigating Richard (Dr Kildare) Chamberlain's portrayal of the Frisky Priest in the film version, and that rang a bit of a bell. Yes, now I remember, there was a man of the cloth involved, whose main intention was to lose his cloth, especially when in the company of a certain female. And it was in the outback and stuff. But apart from that - practically zilcho.

So not to do an Australian and put Colleen down, just that it may be an age thing. But to summarise my total recollection of this huge blockbuster which I thoroughly enjoyed at the time: It was set in a hot place, which was also dry. Dry and hot. There were problems with water. It was very dry. And very hot, too. There were some people. They were also dry, and also very hot. Some sheep may have been involved as well, who were similarly dry and hot. And fleecy.

The sun seemed always to loom very large. It was always as nearly hot and dry as it was for Robert Mitchum and Deborah Kerr in The Sundowners. There may have been bushfires, which is a very hard thing to pull off when things are so hot and dry; bush is unable to grow.

Next thing, a man of the cloth rides into town. He also has sound medical credentials, but no way can he match Robert Mitchum's low-lidded smouldering leer.

Despite this, the preacher man's compensating unnaturally smooth and youthful complexion wins points with the squatter's daughter (or was it his wife?) Next thing, things get extra hot with the daughter/wife, and the man of cloth sheds a good deal of it in a vain attempt to cool down, and no doubt the daughter/wife sympathetically sheds some threads as well in order to help sustain him in his spiritual crisis.

I think someone ended up getting upset. There may have been a death or two. Certainly quite a few sheep would have ended up dropping off owing to hotness and dryness.

In short, there were many thorny issues that had to be resolved which, of course, is where the book got its title - or not.

So you see, this was a great book. And now that I have forgotten just about 99.99 per cent of it, one of the joys of contracting Blenheimer's is that I will now be able to re-read it as a totally novel experience. If I can remember where I put it ...

RIP Colleen.

-Frank Greenall has a master's degree and managed Far North Adult Literacy before moving to Wanganui.