The front page of Brisbane’s Daily Sun newspaper featuring Phil’s article about then outgoing Queensland Premier Sir Joh Bjelke-Petersen. Through persistence, Phil scored an exclusive interview. He details the story behind the story on pages 168 to 170.
By Warren Nunn
Phil Brown is a brave man with a whimsical wit. His memoir, Confessions of a Minor Poet, confirms much of what I already knew about him … and much, much more.
So I probably should not be reviewing his book. That′s because we have worked together in the same newsrooms on occasion.
Any observations I make could be taken as a mate saying nice things about a colleague.
However, Phil didn′t hand me a copy of his book and invite a response. I make these observations out of respect and admiration for his brutal honesty and the brave way in which he has bared his soul.
The book is both laugh-out-loud funny and gut-wrenching at the same time as Phil deep dives into the angst that overwhelmed him and shaped his world.
Phil shares candidly and holds up a mirror to the human condition. We all struggle to make sense of our surroundings and why we exist until we sort out our emotions and get on with life. But the journey is more difficult for some. It can overwhelm individuals who become emotional cripples, unable to cope.
Phil chronicles his struggles in a confronting confessional that left me wondering how he survived.
Exaggerate not
On page 120, Phil recalls how he reported a mass food poisoning in Rockhampton in November 1980. It won him the Reg Birch Trophy for the best story of the year. Reg spent 51 years at The Morning Bulletin newspaper.
I witnessed some of it, but knew nothing of the depth of it. One thing is certain: there is no ‶click- bait″ exaggeration; it is painful and hilarious in equal parts.
You cannot make this stuff up.
For those who appreciate storytelling in all forms – including poetry – most would understand that writers struggle on many fronts. The same applies to artists whatever their bent: from painters to performers for want of an all-encompassing description.
We suffer for our art is a common thread, a cliche.
It′s difficult enough to take a few facts and construct a narrative in a limited timeframe as newshounds must do on a daily basis.
It′s something otherworldly to write poetry, as Phil so eloquently relates it.
Rejection after relentless rejection could easily destroy a person; make them give up. Phil faced that; all but gave up on occasion, but, as we discover in Confessions of a Minor Poet, he came through the ordeal.
Not that he doesn′t still face publishers rejecting a poem; he′s learnt to press on; to keep writing; putting pen to paper; actually putting pen to paper and then transferring it to a digital record.
In Chapter 8, Down and Out in Paradise, Phil revisits the time a “bullshit” yarn became a page one splash in the Gold Coast Sunday Bulletin on 17 October 1982.
We ride along with Phil on waves of emotions as he weaves in his at-times haunting poetry. The poetry brings insight to each point in the narrative.
It′s as though we are out in the surf with Phil as he skilfully follows a wave that never satisfies but makes the rider immediately turn around and paddle back out in search of the next experience. Will it better than the one before?
How we see the world is fashioned by our experiences; what we read, the people in our lives; what we believe about life beyond this life.
Hello Jim!
Where I connected with Phil was over our shared taste in humour; mostly the Goon Show.
When we spoke in the workplace, the conversation would start with: ‶Hello, Jim.″ That′s a catchphrase from the Goons and it is spoken something like: ‶Hello, Jeeeeeem!″
You get the silliness of it all. I recall that Phil referred to himself as Phyllis Quotts, another Goon Show reference.
One more indulgence. Phil relates his experiences working at the Rockhampton Morning Bulletin, a paper where I learnt the rudiments of the newspaper game.
He briefly mentions one editor, Frank Sanderson. As young blokes, we used to make fun of some of Frank′s sayings which is typical workplace banter.
So, in fond remembrance of Frank ‶Tomato Sauce″ Sanderson: Well done matey, beautiful little bit of copy there.
FOOTNOTE: Should you read this Pihl Borwn, the well-known typing error (apologies to Spike Milligan), I have a confession. I voraciously consumed some of your memoir in various places on the way home after I bought it at a City bookstore. So there′s a beetroot stain on page 87. Surely that′s a hook for a poem ….
Recent Comments