Latest news with #MilesFranklin
Spectator
6 days ago
- Entertainment
- Spectator
Elizabeth Harrower – the greatest Australian writer you've never heard of
Elizabeth Harrower (1928-2020) became an Australian literary classic before she had fully established herself as an Australian writer. She had a rough childhood in Newcastle, New South Wales, and once contemplated lying on the road in the dead of night waiting to be run over. She described herself as a 'divorced child', saw her father Frank very rarely, despite his best efforts, and felt an inexorable loneliness during her days in the industrial city by the sea. Later she found herself in Scotland and loved it; and for much of the 1950s she lived in London. Returning to Australia, she enjoyed what seems like a romantic friendship with the novelist and playwright Kylie Tennant, a rollicking yarnspinner of a realist, though Tennant was appalled by the idea of her sitting in her room writing some horror story about a man. The book in question was her fourth novel, The Watchtower, and by the time it was published in 1966 Harrower was enjoying a close intimacy with Patrick White, who would be awarded the 1973 Nobel Prize in Literature. White was so intent on Harrower gaining recognition by winning the Miles Franklin award that he asked for his own entry, The Solid Mandala (the least successful of his major novels), to be withdrawn. But The Watchtower failed to win anyway. That novel, in all its black glory, was in fact the last piece of fiction that Harrower published, since she withdrew her next book, In Certain Circles, despite the fact that she had a publisher for it. Harrower's current reputation as a figure of interest has followed in the wake of Text Publishing not only reprinting the earlier books but finally publishing In Certain Circles in 2014. All of this Helen Trinca – the biographer of that most Mozartian of Australian expats, Madeleine St John – narrates with effortless clarity and élan. She makes Harrower's crowded, sometimes confusing life seem crystal clear. There is the rivalry with (and affection for) Shirley Hazzard; the friendship with figures ranging from Judah Waten to Christina Stead; and the constant murmur from White that she could write a wonderful book. It's interesting, too, that the actor Ben Whishaw loves The Watchtower and describes Harrower's work as 'incredibly moving'. It is certainly a big proposition to engage with. The Watchtower is an exercise in starkly expressionist prose which strains credulity with its portrait of the factory owner, who comes across to many readers as inhuman with his insanely casual proposal of marriage to one of the two sisters at the heart of the novel. The way they cope in this bizarre world of caricatures also confounds reality. Less fantastical, however, is The Long Prospect, the 1958 novel which Christina Stead liked. 'You have a remarkable sober acerbity… you are unique,' she told Harrower. The author of The Man Who Loved Children, with its weird masculine dialects, its intense evocation of girlhood and its foreshadowed aftermath, had every reason to see a parallel voice in The Long Prospect. It is the story of a 12-year-old girl, long-legged and super-bright, who forms an intense friendship with a chaste, empathic man of culture who plies her with Darwin and Plato and everything in between. They come to love each other, which prompts the girl's grand-mother, a baleful, self-centred woman, to imply abuse. This strange, challenging book has a somewhat wild structure; but the central flame keeps burning in a way that is moving for all its bravado. Clearly the Harrower of The Long Prospect could do anything. David Malouf defends her right to her own dissatisfaction with In Certain Circles, though it's clear that the paired couples and the cooler, sparkling dialogue was a technical advance. Trinca describes Harrower's delight at the late appreciation of her work, so skilfully effected by Michael Heyward of Text and the literary agent Jane Novak. This is a masterful biography by a writer who pulls no punches.
The Guardian
24-06-2025
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
‘I'm so humbled': western Sydney's Winnie Dunn up for $60,000 Miles Franklin literary award for debut novel
Winnie Dunn was just a toddler when her aunt first noticed her fascination with language – mesmerised by the writing on the back of a toilet paper packet. Growing up in one of the most disadvantaged regions of Sydney, hers was a household without books. Three decades on, Dunn has become the first Tongan writer to be published in Australia and the first to be shortlisted for Australia's most prestigious literary prize. Her debut novel, Dirt Poor Islanders, is one of the six books vying for this year's Miles Franklin award. 'I'm so humbled,' Dunn says, of the nomination. 'Just to be next to people like Brian Castro and Julie Janson is really amazing. So I'm really quite thrilled.' Castro's Chinese Postman and Janson's Compassion made it onto the shortlist, alongside Siang Lu's Ghost Cities and Fiona McFarlane's Highway 13. The odds-on favourite, however, appears to be Michelle de Kretser's Theory and Practice, which won the Stella prize last month; last year, Alexis Wright won the Miles Franklin after winning the Stella. Dunn describes Dirt Poor Islanders as a deliberate inversion of Kevin Kwan's bestseller Crazy Rich Asians, and the subsequent film that luxuriated in Asian wealth and excess for a global audience. Instead, Dunn focuses on her childhood stamping ground, Mount Druitt in Sydney's west, with Dirt Poor Islanders following Meadow Reed, a half Tongan, half white girl who is torn between the comforting familiarity of family and tradition, and its mortifying capacity to relegate her to the fringe of her wider community. 'Crazy Rich Asians was really seen as this kind of radical, self-determined book – and I wanted to pay homage to that, but on the flip side,' Dunn said. That flip side includes a frank exploration of class and cultural perception, as it relates to the Tongan diaspora. 'Pasifika people are seen as quite poor, but I wanted to bring this idea that dirt and the earth and the places you come from are actually quite rich in and of themselves,' she said. Even the book's title is defiant in that spirit – embracing, rather than avoiding, an economic reality in which many Pacific Australians live, and the way their lives are stereotyped in the media. Sign up to Saved for Later Catch up on the fun stuff with Guardian Australia's culture and lifestyle rundown of pop culture, trends and tips after newsletter promotion Dunn was 14 when Chris Lilley's Summer Heights High became one of Australia's most popular TV shows. His brownface caricature, Jonah from Tonga, left her feeling humiliated. 'It made me ashamed to be Tongan,' she said. 'I remember going to school and there was this Anglo-Saxon kid wearing a sarong, strumming a ukulele and reciting quotes from Jonah. I felt like I was the butt end of someone's joke.' Seven years later an SBS film crew moved into her neighbourhood and made the controversial documentary Struggle Street, which was decried by many western Sydney residents and some sections of the media as 'poverty porn'. It made Dunn 'feel like I was growing up in the arse end of Sydney … I didn't feel like there was any room for people like me to tell their own stories.' That all changed when Dunn met western Sydney novelist and educator Michael Mohammed Ahmad, and became involved in the local collective he founded, the Sweatshop Literacy Movement. 'It was the first time I really got to see self-determined storytelling,' she says. 'It opened up a whole new world for me in terms of understanding that there was space for stories like mine.' Today, Dunn is Sweatshop's general manager, where she has served as editor on a number of anthologies showcasing writing from culturally and linguistically diverse authors, including Brownface, Sweatshop Women, Strait-Up Islander and Another Australia. Dunn is the first in her family to attend university, and she believes it will be some time before another member achieves this milestone. Books and reading still do not feature significantly in her family's life, but Dirt Poor Islanders does pay homage to the woman bemused by a toddler's fascination with the words on a package of toilet paper 30 years earlier. Her name is also Winnie Dunn. In Tongan culture, there is no word for 'aunt', but the elder Winnie raised the child Winnie as a mother would, and remains her staunchest supporter. Dirt Poor Islanders dedication reads simply: 'To Winnie. The richest gift you ever gave me was your name.' The winner of the Miles Franklin prize will be announced on 24 July.
The Advertiser
24-06-2025
- Business
- The Advertiser
Here's something absolutely cooked about books in Australia
It's a big week for Australian culture, with announcement of the shortlist for the Miles Franklin Literary Award, one of the country's top writing prizes. Past winners of the award include legendary writers such as Tim Winton, Thomas Keneally, Alexis Wright, Thea Astley and Peter Carey. And because it's Australian culture, you can place a bet with a bookmaker on which title on the shortlist will win the award. The winner of the Miles Franklin can expect prize money of $60,000. Many will then pay around $20,000 of that back in income tax. But if you picked the winner of the Miles Franklin with the bookies, your winnings are tax-free. Isn't that weird? Winning authors pay tax. Mug punters, no tax. It gets weirder. If you win the lottery, Who wants to be a Millionaire or The Block, you don't pay tax on your prize money. Win the Stella Prize for writing by Australian women - pay tax. Win the Archibald prize for painting - pay tax. How about the Prime Minister's Literary Awards? Well in that case, "All prizes are tax-free" is in bold on the website. This shows that whether prizes are taxed is completely arbitrary. It is a decision for Australian governments to make. And should the Australian government choose to axe the taxes on arts prizes, they would be making a sound investment in Australian culture. The loss of revenue would be unnoticed by a government that just gave away $215 billion dollars' worth of natural gas for free. It would barely register given the $10 billion in subsidies the government handed over in the form of the fuel tax credit to mining companies. By contrast, an extra few thousand dollars in the pockets of writers really makes a difference. According to the Australian Tax Office, the median income for Australian authors is $32,760, which is below the poverty line. Creative Australia ran a survey in 2022 finding the average writer's annual income is $18,200. Average or median, either way, most Australian authors have incomes below the poverty line. For writers on a small income, a prize can mean the difference between taking a year off work to write their next book and trying to fit writing in between other jobs. In the case of a Miles Franklin or Stella Prize win, a tax-free prize could mean the difference between $60,000 and $40,000 in their bank account. Stella Prize winner Dr Charlotte Wood AM says, "for those few writers who win, it would mean that a year's income could easily stretch to keep them going for an extra year or even two or three, without the extraordinary financial and attendant psychological strain most artists live beneath. Imagine if we were a society generous enough to allow this tiny gift." Easing the pressure on an author from finding other sources of income so they can develop their next book can mean the difference between building a career and getting stuck in short-term and poorly paid stop-gap work. Prize money doesn't simply affect an individual artist but, in some cases, their community as well. Miles Franklin winner and Bundjalung author Melissa Lucashenko said she paid $15,000 tax on her win in 2019. She says: "I'm very happy to pay tax - to contribute to a decent society - but at the same time, I belong to an extremely impoverished community. I am regularly called on to give money to people who buy their food on credit. Who can't bury their dead, or who need petrol to get to funerals, or who can't get out of jail to attend the funeral of a parent because that means paying the prison system the astronomical cost of guards to accompany them. $15,000 fills a lot of grocery carts, and a lot of petrol tanks." For an author such as Lucashenko, who is a central figure, regularly supporting those in her community, means that the effects on the increase in prize money move out through networks and benefit more than a handful of prize-winners themselves. READ MORE: This measure is not just important for writers; taxing prize money applies to playwrights, painters, musicians and artists from all disciplines. The National Association for Visual Arts has been an advocate for tax-free prizes for many years. Making prize money tax free is not charity. It is a way to foster our best artists, the people who help Australia understand and see itself clearly. Australia gives away extraordinary amounts of gas and offers massive subsidies in the form of fuel tax credits - why do we accept these enormous subsidies and not ask for better support of our artists? With pressure on artists from cost of living and culture wars, and on publishers whose margins have shrunk thanks to increasing paper prices and spikes in the costs of logistics, the effects of making prizes tax free could mean we see the next Tim Winton have the time and resources to write their novel, rather than working three casual jobs to make ends meet and trying to squeeze writing in between. It is time for governments to take a serious punt on Australian artists. It's a big week for Australian culture, with announcement of the shortlist for the Miles Franklin Literary Award, one of the country's top writing prizes. Past winners of the award include legendary writers such as Tim Winton, Thomas Keneally, Alexis Wright, Thea Astley and Peter Carey. And because it's Australian culture, you can place a bet with a bookmaker on which title on the shortlist will win the award. The winner of the Miles Franklin can expect prize money of $60,000. Many will then pay around $20,000 of that back in income tax. But if you picked the winner of the Miles Franklin with the bookies, your winnings are tax-free. Isn't that weird? Winning authors pay tax. Mug punters, no tax. It gets weirder. If you win the lottery, Who wants to be a Millionaire or The Block, you don't pay tax on your prize money. Win the Stella Prize for writing by Australian women - pay tax. Win the Archibald prize for painting - pay tax. How about the Prime Minister's Literary Awards? Well in that case, "All prizes are tax-free" is in bold on the website. This shows that whether prizes are taxed is completely arbitrary. It is a decision for Australian governments to make. And should the Australian government choose to axe the taxes on arts prizes, they would be making a sound investment in Australian culture. The loss of revenue would be unnoticed by a government that just gave away $215 billion dollars' worth of natural gas for free. It would barely register given the $10 billion in subsidies the government handed over in the form of the fuel tax credit to mining companies. By contrast, an extra few thousand dollars in the pockets of writers really makes a difference. According to the Australian Tax Office, the median income for Australian authors is $32,760, which is below the poverty line. Creative Australia ran a survey in 2022 finding the average writer's annual income is $18,200. Average or median, either way, most Australian authors have incomes below the poverty line. For writers on a small income, a prize can mean the difference between taking a year off work to write their next book and trying to fit writing in between other jobs. In the case of a Miles Franklin or Stella Prize win, a tax-free prize could mean the difference between $60,000 and $40,000 in their bank account. Stella Prize winner Dr Charlotte Wood AM says, "for those few writers who win, it would mean that a year's income could easily stretch to keep them going for an extra year or even two or three, without the extraordinary financial and attendant psychological strain most artists live beneath. Imagine if we were a society generous enough to allow this tiny gift." Easing the pressure on an author from finding other sources of income so they can develop their next book can mean the difference between building a career and getting stuck in short-term and poorly paid stop-gap work. Prize money doesn't simply affect an individual artist but, in some cases, their community as well. Miles Franklin winner and Bundjalung author Melissa Lucashenko said she paid $15,000 tax on her win in 2019. She says: "I'm very happy to pay tax - to contribute to a decent society - but at the same time, I belong to an extremely impoverished community. I am regularly called on to give money to people who buy their food on credit. Who can't bury their dead, or who need petrol to get to funerals, or who can't get out of jail to attend the funeral of a parent because that means paying the prison system the astronomical cost of guards to accompany them. $15,000 fills a lot of grocery carts, and a lot of petrol tanks." For an author such as Lucashenko, who is a central figure, regularly supporting those in her community, means that the effects on the increase in prize money move out through networks and benefit more than a handful of prize-winners themselves. READ MORE: This measure is not just important for writers; taxing prize money applies to playwrights, painters, musicians and artists from all disciplines. The National Association for Visual Arts has been an advocate for tax-free prizes for many years. Making prize money tax free is not charity. It is a way to foster our best artists, the people who help Australia understand and see itself clearly. Australia gives away extraordinary amounts of gas and offers massive subsidies in the form of fuel tax credits - why do we accept these enormous subsidies and not ask for better support of our artists? With pressure on artists from cost of living and culture wars, and on publishers whose margins have shrunk thanks to increasing paper prices and spikes in the costs of logistics, the effects of making prizes tax free could mean we see the next Tim Winton have the time and resources to write their novel, rather than working three casual jobs to make ends meet and trying to squeeze writing in between. It is time for governments to take a serious punt on Australian artists. It's a big week for Australian culture, with announcement of the shortlist for the Miles Franklin Literary Award, one of the country's top writing prizes. Past winners of the award include legendary writers such as Tim Winton, Thomas Keneally, Alexis Wright, Thea Astley and Peter Carey. And because it's Australian culture, you can place a bet with a bookmaker on which title on the shortlist will win the award. The winner of the Miles Franklin can expect prize money of $60,000. Many will then pay around $20,000 of that back in income tax. But if you picked the winner of the Miles Franklin with the bookies, your winnings are tax-free. Isn't that weird? Winning authors pay tax. Mug punters, no tax. It gets weirder. If you win the lottery, Who wants to be a Millionaire or The Block, you don't pay tax on your prize money. Win the Stella Prize for writing by Australian women - pay tax. Win the Archibald prize for painting - pay tax. How about the Prime Minister's Literary Awards? Well in that case, "All prizes are tax-free" is in bold on the website. This shows that whether prizes are taxed is completely arbitrary. It is a decision for Australian governments to make. And should the Australian government choose to axe the taxes on arts prizes, they would be making a sound investment in Australian culture. The loss of revenue would be unnoticed by a government that just gave away $215 billion dollars' worth of natural gas for free. It would barely register given the $10 billion in subsidies the government handed over in the form of the fuel tax credit to mining companies. By contrast, an extra few thousand dollars in the pockets of writers really makes a difference. According to the Australian Tax Office, the median income for Australian authors is $32,760, which is below the poverty line. Creative Australia ran a survey in 2022 finding the average writer's annual income is $18,200. Average or median, either way, most Australian authors have incomes below the poverty line. For writers on a small income, a prize can mean the difference between taking a year off work to write their next book and trying to fit writing in between other jobs. In the case of a Miles Franklin or Stella Prize win, a tax-free prize could mean the difference between $60,000 and $40,000 in their bank account. Stella Prize winner Dr Charlotte Wood AM says, "for those few writers who win, it would mean that a year's income could easily stretch to keep them going for an extra year or even two or three, without the extraordinary financial and attendant psychological strain most artists live beneath. Imagine if we were a society generous enough to allow this tiny gift." Easing the pressure on an author from finding other sources of income so they can develop their next book can mean the difference between building a career and getting stuck in short-term and poorly paid stop-gap work. Prize money doesn't simply affect an individual artist but, in some cases, their community as well. Miles Franklin winner and Bundjalung author Melissa Lucashenko said she paid $15,000 tax on her win in 2019. She says: "I'm very happy to pay tax - to contribute to a decent society - but at the same time, I belong to an extremely impoverished community. I am regularly called on to give money to people who buy their food on credit. Who can't bury their dead, or who need petrol to get to funerals, or who can't get out of jail to attend the funeral of a parent because that means paying the prison system the astronomical cost of guards to accompany them. $15,000 fills a lot of grocery carts, and a lot of petrol tanks." For an author such as Lucashenko, who is a central figure, regularly supporting those in her community, means that the effects on the increase in prize money move out through networks and benefit more than a handful of prize-winners themselves. READ MORE: This measure is not just important for writers; taxing prize money applies to playwrights, painters, musicians and artists from all disciplines. The National Association for Visual Arts has been an advocate for tax-free prizes for many years. Making prize money tax free is not charity. It is a way to foster our best artists, the people who help Australia understand and see itself clearly. Australia gives away extraordinary amounts of gas and offers massive subsidies in the form of fuel tax credits - why do we accept these enormous subsidies and not ask for better support of our artists? With pressure on artists from cost of living and culture wars, and on publishers whose margins have shrunk thanks to increasing paper prices and spikes in the costs of logistics, the effects of making prizes tax free could mean we see the next Tim Winton have the time and resources to write their novel, rather than working three casual jobs to make ends meet and trying to squeeze writing in between. It is time for governments to take a serious punt on Australian artists. It's a big week for Australian culture, with announcement of the shortlist for the Miles Franklin Literary Award, one of the country's top writing prizes. Past winners of the award include legendary writers such as Tim Winton, Thomas Keneally, Alexis Wright, Thea Astley and Peter Carey. And because it's Australian culture, you can place a bet with a bookmaker on which title on the shortlist will win the award. The winner of the Miles Franklin can expect prize money of $60,000. Many will then pay around $20,000 of that back in income tax. But if you picked the winner of the Miles Franklin with the bookies, your winnings are tax-free. Isn't that weird? Winning authors pay tax. Mug punters, no tax. It gets weirder. If you win the lottery, Who wants to be a Millionaire or The Block, you don't pay tax on your prize money. Win the Stella Prize for writing by Australian women - pay tax. Win the Archibald prize for painting - pay tax. How about the Prime Minister's Literary Awards? Well in that case, "All prizes are tax-free" is in bold on the website. This shows that whether prizes are taxed is completely arbitrary. It is a decision for Australian governments to make. And should the Australian government choose to axe the taxes on arts prizes, they would be making a sound investment in Australian culture. The loss of revenue would be unnoticed by a government that just gave away $215 billion dollars' worth of natural gas for free. It would barely register given the $10 billion in subsidies the government handed over in the form of the fuel tax credit to mining companies. By contrast, an extra few thousand dollars in the pockets of writers really makes a difference. According to the Australian Tax Office, the median income for Australian authors is $32,760, which is below the poverty line. Creative Australia ran a survey in 2022 finding the average writer's annual income is $18,200. Average or median, either way, most Australian authors have incomes below the poverty line. For writers on a small income, a prize can mean the difference between taking a year off work to write their next book and trying to fit writing in between other jobs. In the case of a Miles Franklin or Stella Prize win, a tax-free prize could mean the difference between $60,000 and $40,000 in their bank account. Stella Prize winner Dr Charlotte Wood AM says, "for those few writers who win, it would mean that a year's income could easily stretch to keep them going for an extra year or even two or three, without the extraordinary financial and attendant psychological strain most artists live beneath. Imagine if we were a society generous enough to allow this tiny gift." Easing the pressure on an author from finding other sources of income so they can develop their next book can mean the difference between building a career and getting stuck in short-term and poorly paid stop-gap work. Prize money doesn't simply affect an individual artist but, in some cases, their community as well. Miles Franklin winner and Bundjalung author Melissa Lucashenko said she paid $15,000 tax on her win in 2019. She says: "I'm very happy to pay tax - to contribute to a decent society - but at the same time, I belong to an extremely impoverished community. I am regularly called on to give money to people who buy their food on credit. Who can't bury their dead, or who need petrol to get to funerals, or who can't get out of jail to attend the funeral of a parent because that means paying the prison system the astronomical cost of guards to accompany them. $15,000 fills a lot of grocery carts, and a lot of petrol tanks." For an author such as Lucashenko, who is a central figure, regularly supporting those in her community, means that the effects on the increase in prize money move out through networks and benefit more than a handful of prize-winners themselves. READ MORE: This measure is not just important for writers; taxing prize money applies to playwrights, painters, musicians and artists from all disciplines. The National Association for Visual Arts has been an advocate for tax-free prizes for many years. Making prize money tax free is not charity. It is a way to foster our best artists, the people who help Australia understand and see itself clearly. Australia gives away extraordinary amounts of gas and offers massive subsidies in the form of fuel tax credits - why do we accept these enormous subsidies and not ask for better support of our artists? With pressure on artists from cost of living and culture wars, and on publishers whose margins have shrunk thanks to increasing paper prices and spikes in the costs of logistics, the effects of making prizes tax free could mean we see the next Tim Winton have the time and resources to write their novel, rather than working three casual jobs to make ends meet and trying to squeeze writing in between. It is time for governments to take a serious punt on Australian artists.
Canberra Times
24-06-2025
- General
- Canberra Times
Here's something absolutely cooked about books in Australia
Prize money doesn't simply affect an individual artist but, in some cases, their community as well. Miles Franklin winner and Bundjalung author Melissa Lucashenko said she paid $15,000 tax on her win in 2019. She says: "I'm very happy to pay tax - to contribute to a decent society - but at the same time, I belong to an extremely impoverished community. I am regularly called on to give money to people who buy their food on credit. Who can't bury their dead, or who need petrol to get to funerals, or who can't get out of jail to attend the funeral of a parent because that means paying the prison system the astronomical cost of guards to accompany them. $15,000 fills a lot of grocery carts, and a lot of petrol tanks."
Yahoo
20-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Netflix Unveils Series Adaptation Of Australian Novel ‘My Brilliant Career'
Netflix will adapt Miles Franklin's 1901 Australian novel 'My Brilliant Career' into a series. The story follows Sybylla Melvyn, an ambitious girl growing up in rural Australia in the 1890s, who desires a grand career as a writer. More from Deadline 5 Songs With 'Forever' Music Supervisor Kier Lehman Justine Lupe Teases 'Nobody Wants This' Season 2 And Working With "Delightful" and "Goofy" New Guest Star Leighton Meester 'Fubar' Season 2 Debut Barely Makes Netflix Weekly TV List Amid Steep Audience Decline As 'Ginny & Georgia' Remains On Top Philippa Northeast (Territory) will star as Sybylla, with Christopher Chung (Slow Horses) playing the role of Harry, Anna Chancellor (Outrageous) as Mrs Bossier, Genevieve O'Reilly (Andor) as Helen, and Kate Mulvany (Hunters) as Augusta. Other cast members include Jake Dunn (The Ballad of Renegade Nell), Alexander England (Black Snow), Sherry-Lee Watson (Heartbreak High) and Miah Madden (Paper Dolls). The novel was previously adapted into a feature film of the same name in 1979. Netflix's series adaptation will be produced with Jungle Entertainment in Adelaide. The period production will take place at Adelaide Studios and various locations across South Australia. Chloe Rickard, Liz Doran and Alyssa McClelland are executive producers on the series, with McClelland and Anne Renton set to direct. Territory producer Paul Ranford will also produce My Brilliant Career. 'It's been a privilege to work with so many incredible creatives on this reimagining of Miles Franklin's rollicking tale of a young woman's quest to determine her own life,' said Liz Doran, executive producer and writer of Netflix's My Brilliant Career. Chloe Rickard, executive producer, added: 'It's thrilling to bring this Australian classic to a whole new audience. Partnering with Netflix and fellow executive producers Liz Doran and Alyssa McClelland, with Philippa Northeast as our rebellious and witty Sybylla, has been the stuff that dreams are made of.' Minyoung Kim, Netflix's Vice-President of APAC content (ex-India), said: ''My Brilliant Career' is a timeless Australian story with themes as relevant today as when it was originally published. We're excited to be partnering with some of Australia's best creatives and talent to bring this story to a whole new generation on Netflix, and with its stunning locations, there's no better home for this production than South Australia.' Kate Croser, CEO of South Australian Film Corporation (SAFC), said: 'We are delighted to welcome Netflix back to South Australia and Adelaide Studios along with award-winning production company Jungle Entertainment for the new series adaptation of 'My Brilliant Career.' 'The SAFC is proud to support this exciting new series which will harness the world-class skills of a majority South Australian crew, led by top South Australian producer Paul Ranford, and which will once again provide a showcase for our state's screen production capability, talent and endlessly beautiful locations,' added Croser. Best of Deadline 2025 TV Series Renewals: Photo Gallery 2025-26 Awards Season Calendar: Dates For Tonys, Emmys, Oscars & More 'The Buccaneers' Season 2 Release Schedule: When Do New Episodes Come Out?
