Edition 39

TASMANIA – The Tipping Point?

  • Published 5th March, 2013
  • ISBN: 9781922079961
  • Extent: 264 pp
  • Paperback (234 x 153mm), eBook

For many Tasmanians a darker reality lies behind the seductive tourism brochures showcasing the state’s pristine wilderness, gourmet magazine articles celebrating its burgeoning food culture, and newspaper stories gasping at a world-leading art museum.

Tasmania ranks at or near the bottom among Australian states on virtually every indicator of socio-economic performance – including levels of employment, income, investment, education and health.

Where does Tasmania’s future lie? Has Tasmania reached a ‘tipping point’, politically, economically and culturally?

In TASMANIA – The Tipping Point? Griffith REVIEW serves up strategic slices of Tasmania’s past, present and future.

Thinkers, writers and doers from Tasmania and beyond, including members of its extensive diaspora, challenge how Tasmania is seen by outsiders and illuminate how Tasmanians see themselves, down home and in the wider world.

Natasha Cica asks does Tasmania need an intervention?;
Peter Timms writes of Lady Franklin’s heirs and successors;
Jonathan West asks what’s wrong with Tasmania, really?;
Cassandra Pybus on tin dragons and silver smoke screens;
David Walsh with a story of humility and hubris from Glenorchy;
Danielle Wood says you can check out any time you like;
Jo Chandler tells how from little things, big things grow;
Kathy Marks on surviving, belonging, challenging and enduring.

With more works from Rodney Croome, Will Bibby, Richard Eccleston, Lea McInerney, David Hansen, Greg Lehman, Luke Wright, Scott Rankin, Matthew Evans, Moya Fyfe, Fleur Fallon, Margaret Merrilees, Celia Lendis and Joanna Talberg with fiction from Favel Parrett, Romy Ash, Erin O’Dwyer and Matthew Lamb.

Featuring a striking picture gallery from Julie Gough titled ‘Fugitive history’.


In this Edition

Across the Bass Strait

Mum was sitting by herself on a bench attached to the wall of the ship under a Perspex roof. We sat next to her holding on to the bottom of the bench. I told Mum that I had been sick and she wiped my forehead and cheek and said, ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,’ and it looked like she was crying. She said it was just the sea spray and the cold. And it was cold. It was freezing and the wind cut into my back like I had no skin at all. I could hear the water crack against the ship, feel it hit then hear the spray shoot up. Only I couldn’t see it. I couldn’t see anything past the light cast out on the deck. Out there the world was raging in the blackness.

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