Latest news with #StellaPrize
Sydney Morning Herald
7 days ago
- Entertainment
- Sydney Morning Herald
What's driving the gender gap in our reading habits?
Won't somebody think of the young male novelist? Men, it is said, aren't writing novels any more. Or if they are, they aren't getting published. Or if they are getting published, their books aren't selling, getting noticed or winning prizes. One of the first to lament this apparent decline was American writer Jacob Savage. Armed with a battery of statistics, he claimed in Compact magazine that after 2014 'the doors shut' for male Millennials in the US: 'The literary pipeline for white men was effectively shut down … Diversity preferences may explain their absence from prize lists, but they can't account for why they've so completely failed to capture the zeitgeist.' He claims there's a lost generation of literary men who may not know how to say something genuinely interesting and new. Things got so dire in the mind of British novelist Jude Cook that he decided to set up an independent publishing house, Conduit Books, focussing on literary fiction and memoirs by men: 'overlooked narratives' on 'fatherhood, masculinity, working class male experiences, sex, relationships, and negotiating the 21st century as a man'. Conduit has already cut off open submissions, no doubt besieged with manuscripts. We will see its first titles next year. But is there really a decline and if so, what might have caused it? One reason is that we're still correcting for a very long period when men dominated literary culture. Indeed, that was why the Stella Prize and the Davitt Prize in Australia, the Women's Prize for Fiction in the UK and the Carol Shields Prize in Canada were set up, and I don't yet see any good evidence that they can shut up shop because their work is done. Maybe the perception of decline is because most agents and commissioning editors these days are women. Or maybe, as Savage says, male writers are floundering in their attempts to capture the zeitgeist. But perhaps the simplest explanation is that fewer men and more women are reading fiction. About 80 per cent of fiction sales are to women, who are also the most avid readers. Naturally, they want to read about issues that matter to them. Their reading ranges from literary to popular fiction, with the huge sales of female writers such as Colleen Hoover and the romantasy authors almost entirely driven by women. They are also keen to talk about books, in person and online, and recommend them to friends. No wonder publishers are looking out for more of the same. But why are fewer men reading? Are they discouraged because reading fiction seems to be a solitary pursuit that their peer group doesn't favour? Joseph Bernstein investigated the phenomenon for The New York Times and reckoned that to boost readership, 'it might be a matter of men approaching their reading lives a little more like women do – getting recommendations online from celebrities and influencers, browsing together, forming book clubs'.
The Age
7 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Age
What's driving the gender gap in our reading habits?
Won't somebody think of the young male novelist? Men, it is said, aren't writing novels any more. Or if they are, they aren't getting published. Or if they are getting published, their books aren't selling, getting noticed or winning prizes. One of the first to lament this apparent decline was American writer Jacob Savage. Armed with a battery of statistics, he claimed in Compact magazine that after 2014 'the doors shut' for male Millennials in the US: 'The literary pipeline for white men was effectively shut down … Diversity preferences may explain their absence from prize lists, but they can't account for why they've so completely failed to capture the zeitgeist.' He claims there's a lost generation of literary men who may not know how to say something genuinely interesting and new. Things got so dire in the mind of British novelist Jude Cook that he decided to set up an independent publishing house, Conduit Books, focussing on literary fiction and memoirs by men: 'overlooked narratives' on 'fatherhood, masculinity, working class male experiences, sex, relationships, and negotiating the 21st century as a man'. Conduit has already cut off open submissions, no doubt besieged with manuscripts. We will see its first titles next year. But is there really a decline and if so, what might have caused it? One reason is that we're still correcting for a very long period when men dominated literary culture. Indeed, that was why the Stella Prize and the Davitt Prize in Australia, the Women's Prize for Fiction in the UK and the Carol Shields Prize in Canada were set up, and I don't yet see any good evidence that they can shut up shop because their work is done. Maybe the perception of decline is because most agents and commissioning editors these days are women. Or maybe, as Savage says, male writers are floundering in their attempts to capture the zeitgeist. But perhaps the simplest explanation is that fewer men and more women are reading fiction. About 80 per cent of fiction sales are to women, who are also the most avid readers. Naturally, they want to read about issues that matter to them. Their reading ranges from literary to popular fiction, with the huge sales of female writers such as Colleen Hoover and the romantasy authors almost entirely driven by women. They are also keen to talk about books, in person and online, and recommend them to friends. No wonder publishers are looking out for more of the same. But why are fewer men reading? Are they discouraged because reading fiction seems to be a solitary pursuit that their peer group doesn't favour? Joseph Bernstein investigated the phenomenon for The New York Times and reckoned that to boost readership, 'it might be a matter of men approaching their reading lives a little more like women do – getting recommendations online from celebrities and influencers, browsing together, forming book clubs'.
Sky News AU
12-07-2025
- Entertainment
- Sky News AU
Stella women's literary prize picks battle with non-existent enemy as it fights 'male gender bias' in the book industry
Australia's 2026 Stella Prize - for women authors - includes a male judge. If inclusivity is embraced to the extent that gender is no impediment to judging a gender-specific prize, then inclusivity has been rendered relativist to the extent of being just ideology with good branding. Paradoxically, it would be considered insensitive, in the current climate, to allege that a male judge was hindering representation and the distinctive voice of dozens of prospective female judges, whose lived experience and perspectives as women might make them inherently more suitable as a judge of a literary prize from which men are exempt as entrants. The Stella Prize claims to fight for gender equality. The Stella website says it 'takes an intersectional feminist approach to privilege and discrimination. We are committed to actively dismantling all structural barriers to inclusion for women and non-binary writers'. This is a sociocultural delusion, ignoring that the publishing industry is disproportionately, almost overwhelmingly dominated by women - roughly 60 to 70 per cent of Australian novels published in recent years have been written by women. The most up-to-date Lee & Low publishing survey found that 71 per cent of people in the US industry are women, including 74 per cent in editorial roles, 70 per cent of book reviewers, and 78 per cent of literary agents, with that number replicated in a scroll through the Australian Literary Agents Association website. Stella boasts: "… Data-driven initiatives – including our long-running Stella Count - collect, analyse, and distribute research on gender bias in the Australian literary sector." Looking at their reports, the findings indicate the systemic bias they allude to is an illusion: 55 per cent of the reviews in Australian newspapers and periodicals are of female authors, Stella's own report found. Similarly, "gender distribution of reviewers by publication" found women leading in eight of the twelve sampled publications. Benjamin Law, the male judge in question, is an Australian writer and broadcaster, and a founding member of the Australian Writers' Guild's Diversity and Inclusion Action Committee. He read Jessie Tu's The Honeyeater and "thought it slapped hard." And he is a massive Torrey Peters "stan". Peters is the author of 'Detransition, Baby' - possibly the most insufferable, archly preening novel of the last ten years. The socio-cultural carve-out here could feasibly be that the prize is also open to non-binary writers, which would open it up to LGBTQ authors, which could just about open it to Law. After all, the prize states: "We recognise that what it means to be a woman is not static and that rigid gender binaries reinforce inequality," suggesting that lived experience as a girl or woman is not a prerequisite to win a woman-oriented literature prize. From the submission criteria: "Entry is open to women and non-binary writers who identify with the Prize's purpose to promote Australian women's writing, in ways that align with the writer's own gender identity. This includes cis women, trans women and non-binary people." In this regard, non-binary writers have been granted a cultural skeleton-key to enter practically any literary competition. With the greatest sensitivity, in interviews and public profiles - including Men's Health, Star Observer, Sunday Guardian Live, SBS Voices, and Wikipedia – Mr Law consistently talks about being gay, with no mention of non binary identity. So there is, at best, an absolutely tenuous connection to the stipulation of "promoting Australian women's writing, in ways that align with the writer's own gender identity". At about this stage, the ideological prevarication and identity-sensitive pussyfooting will have turned your brain to mush. Womanhood, we're told, is an immutable characteristic - rooted in unique, lived experience that demands nurturing and protection in a literary world vulnerable to male hegemony (a hegemony that, statistically, ceased to exist a decade ago). Simultaneously, womanhood is mutable - open to self-declared gender fluidity, to non-binary redefinition, to the idea of a gendered soul. So, if you're a woman, submitting your manuscript to the women's only Stella prize, be conscious of the possibility of your work being assessed by a man - a culturally tuned-in, diverse, LGBTQ identifying published man - but a man, nonetheless. By 2012, when the Stella Prize was introduced, Australian publishing was already female-majority across all layers of gatekeeping, from editors to publicists and agents. In 2012, masculine themes (war, rural isolation, generational stoicism, etc.) were still critically respectable. Even non-urban, non-identity-centric male stories had a place. Literary agents were still receptive to quiet male protagonists, postcolonial masculine narratives, stories about fathers, veterans, male friendship, etc. But these were already waning. By 2012, diversity discourse was emerging forcefully. Male-authored manuscripts that didn't engage identity themes were becoming less fashionable, especially if they lacked a distinct 'hook' (e.g., trauma, cultural hybridity, queerness, etc.). There were already whispers in editorial circles about needing more 'own voices,' more 'underrepresented perspectives,' and less 'middle-aged white man navel-gazing.' Now, there is a strong diversity / identity tilt, and increasing ambivalence to traditional masculinity, which almost always must be shouldered with quotation marks. Masculine narrative spaces are borderline extinct, outside of genre writing. Male writers in 2025, submitting literary fiction that reflects traditional or psychologically subtle masculinity, face less editorial enthusiasm, fewer agenting opportunities, and lower prize prospects, meaning the situation for men, is now worse than it was for women when they felt compelled to band together to create the women's only Stella prize for literature in 2012. But even if someone instituted a male-only publishing prize - and imagine the opprobrium and scorn around that - It wouldn't occur to me to enter it, because any gender-specific prize, in 2025, is banal and dated. Nicholas Sheppard is an accomplished journalist whose work has been featured in The Spectator, The NZ Herald and Politico. He is also a published literary author and public relations consultant
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.
The Advertiser
23-05-2025
- Entertainment
- The Advertiser
Novel formula for interrupted tale claims Stella Prize
Michelle de Kretser is one of Australia's most celebrated writers - but the $60,000 Stella Prize has been a long time coming. The Sri Lankan-born Sydney author has been shortlisted three times, including for the very first Stella awarded in 2013, and has even judged the awards. Now her latest work of fiction, Theory & Practice, has finally won the $60,000 prize for Australian women and non-binary writers, announced Friday at the Sydney Writers Festival. "I thought this would be another shortlisting at best ... so it was just thrilling and incredible, and I've felt very lucky," she said ahead of the official announcement. "Theory & Practice is an exceptional novel of hyper realism in which Michelle de Kretser, an author at the height of her powers, interrogates the messiness of life found in the gap between theory and practice," said chair of the judging panel Astrid Edwards. Theory & Practice begins with the tale of an Australian geologist in Switzerland, but is interrupted by what appears to be the author, aged in her twenties - declaring that she no longer wants to write novels that read like novels. The life and thoughts of this young woman take over, including her complicated relationship with literary hero Virginia Woolf - the "Woolfmother". There are sections on the pioneering English author, including investigating her anti-Semitism, and de Kretser declares these parts are as accurate as she could make them. But the characters and events of Theory & Practice are entirely fictitious. Adding to the trickery, one edition of the book has a snap of de Kretser as a student on the front cover, taken in the Melbourne suburb of St Kilda. "I wanted to write this novel that would make people think, 'Is this memoir? Is this all non-fiction?' But it's not, it's actually fiction that doesn't read like fiction," she said. Unlike her protagonist, de Kretser never studied Woolf at university, but reading about Woolf's late novel The Years, she found the English author had attempted to alternate story and essay. Woolf eventually ditched the idea, but for de Kretser it provided the scaffolding for an innovative structure. "The fiction, non-fiction thing didn't work for Virginia Woolf, I don't think it's going to work for me! So I will just try and do more of a mix," she said. Theory & Practice also investigates the pervasive tension between the work that artists leave behind, and their lives and political views. From Pablo Picasso to George Orwell, Paul Gauguin and Donald Friend, there's a long list of artists who would be cancelled - or jailed - if they were they alive today. So how to judge our literary heroes when we discover they have feet of clay? Openness is a start, according to de Kretser. "No one is perfect, but we acknowledge that people have done or said or written certain things that we find unacceptable, and that can be very hurtful," she said. At least the field of potential literary heroes has widened since Woolf's era - thanks in part to her own theory and practice, and thanks also to initiatives such as the Stella Prize. There were 180 entries for the 2025 Stella, and for the first time in the award's 13 years, the shortlist featured only women of colour. The Stella has made a difference to the book industry broadly, said de Kretser. "There has been much greater awareness of reviewing books by women, and greater awareness of gender issues on prize shortlists," she said. Michelle de Kretser is one of Australia's most celebrated writers - but the $60,000 Stella Prize has been a long time coming. The Sri Lankan-born Sydney author has been shortlisted three times, including for the very first Stella awarded in 2013, and has even judged the awards. Now her latest work of fiction, Theory & Practice, has finally won the $60,000 prize for Australian women and non-binary writers, announced Friday at the Sydney Writers Festival. "I thought this would be another shortlisting at best ... so it was just thrilling and incredible, and I've felt very lucky," she said ahead of the official announcement. "Theory & Practice is an exceptional novel of hyper realism in which Michelle de Kretser, an author at the height of her powers, interrogates the messiness of life found in the gap between theory and practice," said chair of the judging panel Astrid Edwards. Theory & Practice begins with the tale of an Australian geologist in Switzerland, but is interrupted by what appears to be the author, aged in her twenties - declaring that she no longer wants to write novels that read like novels. The life and thoughts of this young woman take over, including her complicated relationship with literary hero Virginia Woolf - the "Woolfmother". There are sections on the pioneering English author, including investigating her anti-Semitism, and de Kretser declares these parts are as accurate as she could make them. But the characters and events of Theory & Practice are entirely fictitious. Adding to the trickery, one edition of the book has a snap of de Kretser as a student on the front cover, taken in the Melbourne suburb of St Kilda. "I wanted to write this novel that would make people think, 'Is this memoir? Is this all non-fiction?' But it's not, it's actually fiction that doesn't read like fiction," she said. Unlike her protagonist, de Kretser never studied Woolf at university, but reading about Woolf's late novel The Years, she found the English author had attempted to alternate story and essay. Woolf eventually ditched the idea, but for de Kretser it provided the scaffolding for an innovative structure. "The fiction, non-fiction thing didn't work for Virginia Woolf, I don't think it's going to work for me! So I will just try and do more of a mix," she said. Theory & Practice also investigates the pervasive tension between the work that artists leave behind, and their lives and political views. From Pablo Picasso to George Orwell, Paul Gauguin and Donald Friend, there's a long list of artists who would be cancelled - or jailed - if they were they alive today. So how to judge our literary heroes when we discover they have feet of clay? Openness is a start, according to de Kretser. "No one is perfect, but we acknowledge that people have done or said or written certain things that we find unacceptable, and that can be very hurtful," she said. At least the field of potential literary heroes has widened since Woolf's era - thanks in part to her own theory and practice, and thanks also to initiatives such as the Stella Prize. There were 180 entries for the 2025 Stella, and for the first time in the award's 13 years, the shortlist featured only women of colour. The Stella has made a difference to the book industry broadly, said de Kretser. "There has been much greater awareness of reviewing books by women, and greater awareness of gender issues on prize shortlists," she said. Michelle de Kretser is one of Australia's most celebrated writers - but the $60,000 Stella Prize has been a long time coming. The Sri Lankan-born Sydney author has been shortlisted three times, including for the very first Stella awarded in 2013, and has even judged the awards. Now her latest work of fiction, Theory & Practice, has finally won the $60,000 prize for Australian women and non-binary writers, announced Friday at the Sydney Writers Festival. "I thought this would be another shortlisting at best ... so it was just thrilling and incredible, and I've felt very lucky," she said ahead of the official announcement. "Theory & Practice is an exceptional novel of hyper realism in which Michelle de Kretser, an author at the height of her powers, interrogates the messiness of life found in the gap between theory and practice," said chair of the judging panel Astrid Edwards. Theory & Practice begins with the tale of an Australian geologist in Switzerland, but is interrupted by what appears to be the author, aged in her twenties - declaring that she no longer wants to write novels that read like novels. The life and thoughts of this young woman take over, including her complicated relationship with literary hero Virginia Woolf - the "Woolfmother". There are sections on the pioneering English author, including investigating her anti-Semitism, and de Kretser declares these parts are as accurate as she could make them. But the characters and events of Theory & Practice are entirely fictitious. Adding to the trickery, one edition of the book has a snap of de Kretser as a student on the front cover, taken in the Melbourne suburb of St Kilda. "I wanted to write this novel that would make people think, 'Is this memoir? Is this all non-fiction?' But it's not, it's actually fiction that doesn't read like fiction," she said. Unlike her protagonist, de Kretser never studied Woolf at university, but reading about Woolf's late novel The Years, she found the English author had attempted to alternate story and essay. Woolf eventually ditched the idea, but for de Kretser it provided the scaffolding for an innovative structure. "The fiction, non-fiction thing didn't work for Virginia Woolf, I don't think it's going to work for me! So I will just try and do more of a mix," she said. Theory & Practice also investigates the pervasive tension between the work that artists leave behind, and their lives and political views. From Pablo Picasso to George Orwell, Paul Gauguin and Donald Friend, there's a long list of artists who would be cancelled - or jailed - if they were they alive today. So how to judge our literary heroes when we discover they have feet of clay? Openness is a start, according to de Kretser. "No one is perfect, but we acknowledge that people have done or said or written certain things that we find unacceptable, and that can be very hurtful," she said. At least the field of potential literary heroes has widened since Woolf's era - thanks in part to her own theory and practice, and thanks also to initiatives such as the Stella Prize. There were 180 entries for the 2025 Stella, and for the first time in the award's 13 years, the shortlist featured only women of colour. The Stella has made a difference to the book industry broadly, said de Kretser. "There has been much greater awareness of reviewing books by women, and greater awareness of gender issues on prize shortlists," she said. Michelle de Kretser is one of Australia's most celebrated writers - but the $60,000 Stella Prize has been a long time coming. The Sri Lankan-born Sydney author has been shortlisted three times, including for the very first Stella awarded in 2013, and has even judged the awards. Now her latest work of fiction, Theory & Practice, has finally won the $60,000 prize for Australian women and non-binary writers, announced Friday at the Sydney Writers Festival. "I thought this would be another shortlisting at best ... so it was just thrilling and incredible, and I've felt very lucky," she said ahead of the official announcement. "Theory & Practice is an exceptional novel of hyper realism in which Michelle de Kretser, an author at the height of her powers, interrogates the messiness of life found in the gap between theory and practice," said chair of the judging panel Astrid Edwards. Theory & Practice begins with the tale of an Australian geologist in Switzerland, but is interrupted by what appears to be the author, aged in her twenties - declaring that she no longer wants to write novels that read like novels. The life and thoughts of this young woman take over, including her complicated relationship with literary hero Virginia Woolf - the "Woolfmother". There are sections on the pioneering English author, including investigating her anti-Semitism, and de Kretser declares these parts are as accurate as she could make them. But the characters and events of Theory & Practice are entirely fictitious. Adding to the trickery, one edition of the book has a snap of de Kretser as a student on the front cover, taken in the Melbourne suburb of St Kilda. "I wanted to write this novel that would make people think, 'Is this memoir? Is this all non-fiction?' But it's not, it's actually fiction that doesn't read like fiction," she said. Unlike her protagonist, de Kretser never studied Woolf at university, but reading about Woolf's late novel The Years, she found the English author had attempted to alternate story and essay. Woolf eventually ditched the idea, but for de Kretser it provided the scaffolding for an innovative structure. "The fiction, non-fiction thing didn't work for Virginia Woolf, I don't think it's going to work for me! So I will just try and do more of a mix," she said. Theory & Practice also investigates the pervasive tension between the work that artists leave behind, and their lives and political views. From Pablo Picasso to George Orwell, Paul Gauguin and Donald Friend, there's a long list of artists who would be cancelled - or jailed - if they were they alive today. So how to judge our literary heroes when we discover they have feet of clay? Openness is a start, according to de Kretser. "No one is perfect, but we acknowledge that people have done or said or written certain things that we find unacceptable, and that can be very hurtful," she said. At least the field of potential literary heroes has widened since Woolf's era - thanks in part to her own theory and practice, and thanks also to initiatives such as the Stella Prize. There were 180 entries for the 2025 Stella, and for the first time in the award's 13 years, the shortlist featured only women of colour. The Stella has made a difference to the book industry broadly, said de Kretser. "There has been much greater awareness of reviewing books by women, and greater awareness of gender issues on prize shortlists," she said.
