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Transcript: Ken Bolton’s launch speech for Chinese Postman by Brian Castro

‘The book has the effect of mobilising one’s own store of knowledge, of ‘summoning’ it. This is a facet of all reading experiences maybe. But it is remarkable that it might be more legitimately ‘a fact’ about Chinese Postman than about other novels: Chinese Postman will be very different for different people.’

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Transcript: Brian Castro at the launch of Chinese Postman

‘In both jazz and writing, you can hear previous melodies inside your DNA, the future coming out of the past, then you re-work it, going up and down the spiral staircase until you grow dizzy. You become a copy of yourself and you remake yourself every day. As someone once said, existence is plagiarism.’

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Anna Thwaites is the new editor of HEAT magazine

‘HEAT is a visionary magazine conceived in anger and pursued with integrity. The wealth of talent and skill, the variety and challenge of the writing that has been published within its pages across the three series has so often reinvigorated my belief in what it is possible for a literary magazine – Australian and international – to be.’

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A poem from The Prodigal by Suneeta Peres da Costa

‘Reeds stuck to her unwashed hair / and her cheek was bruised from sleeping / on the long string of tulasī beads she’d / bought at a temple stall in Tiruchirappalli. / Unbeknown to her they would tattoo / her skin in the night, writing their faint, / inscrutable calligraphy.’

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Suneeta Peres da Costa: a note on The Prodigal

‘The poems, invoking gods and goddesses, stigmata and samskāra, simultaneously conjure the mystical and the mundane world: skins, scars and tattoos; frogspawn and spiderwebs; sand-lines, battlelines and fissures; wombs, soil, hair and vines…’

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Brian Castro: a note on Chinese Postman

‘My father was a great letter-writer. He wrote letters to the editors of newspapers, to lovers, to business clients, to President Jimmy Carter. Some of them replied. Some replied through their offices or agencies. He became a collector of stamps and of women; all in the most epistolary fashion; all stylishly-blamelessly and in longhand.’

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An excerpt from Brian Castro’s Chinese Postman

‘That lone walker, yes, that stooping figure over there, that bitter and twisted man who only straightens up to look at treetops and sees nothing but fragments – ruins are his best friends. He sees only broken columns lying horizontally in the grass, symbols of fallen ambition. He does not know many people now, or only by sight.’

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