We can be heroes... Or can we?

Sergeant Maurice Vincent Buckley was born in Hawthorn, Victoria in 1891. When the First World War started he, like many other Aussies signed up and went to war. Something few 23 year olds today could even fathom. Like many young men he was probably looking forward to a great adventure only to be shocked by the death and destruction he would witness.

On the 18^th December 1918 Buckley was in France, at  Le Verguier, near St Quentin. That day Sergeant Buckley performed deeds that few of us will ever be in a position to perform. He ceased to be a regular soldier and became something quite special.

During an advance his battalion cleared several enemy outposts whilst setting off behind a creeping barrage. Two of these outposts fell to Buckley’s own gun. When a field gun held up one company Buckley rushed forward, shot the crew and ran under fire of machine guns across open ground to put a trench mortar out of action. He then fired into an enemy dugout and captured 30 German soldiers. By the time the sun set that night Buckley had rushed at least 6 machine gun positions, captured a field gun and taken nearly 100 prisoners.

For this amazing day of achievement Buckley was awarded the Victoria Cross. For those that do not know the Victoria Cross is the highest military decoration awarded for Valour in the face of the enemy. Just fewer than 100 have ever been awarded to Australians. VC winners are in a class of their own. They are true heroes. I can’t imagine there is one person who could read the above paragraph regaling Sergeant Buckley’s ‘day at the office’ and say that these actions were not those of someone deserving of the term ‘hero.’ I in fact thought ‘wow!’ I may have even said it aloud and had to pause for a few seconds before starting to write about it. I imagine any descendants of Sergeant Buckley would be very proud indeed.

Though while we might all agree that Sergeant Buckley is a hero there has been some interesting conversation this week about who can truly be labelled a hero. A great favourite of mine is the site Mamamia (http://www.mamamia.com.au). It has some excellent writer’s sharing news and stories and is always a great read. Mia herself appears on the Sunrise program on a regular basis and this week happened to mention that she thought Cadel Evans should not be labelled a hero. This was the day after he won the Tour De France and the reaction was just crazy. She was attacked and abused from all sides for daring to pour water on Cadel’s achievement.

Now I am not going to add to this discussion. I think Mia has the right to her opinion and those that abuse others who do not share their opinion are the lowest of the low. But it got me to thinking. Does Mia have a point? Can any sportsmen be compared to the likes of Sergeant Buckley? Do we in this country put sportsmen above all others? Should kids be looking up to firemen and policemen like they used to. You know people who actually risk their lives for others? Or is the term in fact much broader? People are pointing out that Cadel’s achievement may make kids take up exercise or realise they too can live their dream, whatever that dream may be. Is this not when coupled with the enormous physical and mental effort required to win such a race also to be considered heroic?

I want to tell you a story about me. When I was a little girl I was as usual ahead of the rest of the class in reading and got to read a book that no one else in the class could. It was a book about Sir Charles Kingsford Smith, the great Australian aviator.  It was of course edited for children and I did not find out till much later Smithy’s womaniser reputation or even the fact that he lost a few toes! But I was mesmerised nonetheless. I found his story fascinating. Imagine doing something like that? Flying around Australia and then the world and doing so in difficult conditions, always in fear something could go wrong. But insisting on doing it to achieve what no one else had ever achieved. I instantly had found my hero. I would tell anyone who asked who my hero was. I was quite thrilled to have discovered this man all by myself and that few others I knew had even heard of him or his great exploits.

Now there would be some people who might say Smithy was not a hero. He didn’t cure cancer or save lives. What he did was mostly for personal gain like a sportsman. So what if back then someone had sat me down and explained that while I could look up to Smithy I should not label him a hero. Then they would point and say, ‘See that man over there? He is a fire fighter and he saved two young children from a burning house yesterday, he is a hero.’ I think in fact I would have indeed admired the fire fighter but he would not have fired the passion within me that Smithy had. In fact I think I would have been very upset if someone had said something like that to me. Why couldn’t Smithy be my hero?

What is a hero then? Does it require a feat like Sergeant Buckley’s or can it be more narrowly applied?  I think a trip to the dictionary is in order. Some definitions I have found for the word hero are;

“a man of distinguished courage or ability, admired for his brave deeds and noble qualities.”

“a person who, in the opinion of others, has heroic qualities or has performed a heroic act and is regarded as a model or ideal: He was a local hero when he saved the drowning child. “

“a mythological or legendary figure often of divine descent endowed with great strength or ability”

“an illustrious warrior”

“a man admired for his achievements and noble qualities”

“one who shows great courage”

It is pointed out on many sites as well that the word comes from the ancient Greek and the first heroes’ were warriors or even demi gods. The word has evolved of course but how much has it evolved? Brave deeds, noble qualities and achievements. These seem to be the basic tenets. We could look them up in the dictionary too and keep going till we get to the bottom of it! What is brave? Must one risk their lives to be brave?

Is every soldier brave? I imagine not. I think there are plenty of soldiers or policemen or fire fighters who are not brave at all and simply do their job. Perhaps there are some that might pass the buck and make someone else run into a burning building or into machine gun fire. Some nurses might not give two hoots about the patients they treat. Someone working on a cure for cancer might be doing so purely for the glory, to have their names go down in history.  

Conversely it could be argued plenty of sportspeople are brave and even have noble qualities. Some may truly want to inspire others. Plenty of course wish only for the glory for themselves but if it happens to inspire people anyway? There is something to be said of course for living your passion, doing what you do best and love doing. If your passion is swimming then don’t become a fire fighter to save lives. Your heart will not be in it. Of course this does not mean you will be a hero but seldom is that something anyone sets out to do.

I’m not sure if I can answer the question of what should constitute a hero. I’m beginning to think it might be subjective. Even one of the definitions above implies that if some people think a person is a hero then they are a hero at least to those people. Adolf Hitler is seen as a hero by some. I think this is appalling but that does not change the fact that he is a hero to some people.

I think Ned Kelly should not be seen as a hero. I remember having a bit of a heated facebook chat with someone about it once. She insisted he was a hero. I think he is certainly an important historical figure and I do in fact have some sympathy for him but to see someone who resorted to terrorist tactics when the chips were down is wrong in my opinion and thus he should not be seen as a hero. Plenty would disagree with me.

So I am not going to say that Mia was right or wrong. She was right to think what she thinks and people who say Cadel is a hero are right to think what they think. But I have to talk about one other point. I think Mia is absolutely right when she says that there are many unsung heroes in this country that do not get a look in but should. Here she is talking about fire fighters and the like that risk their lives but are paid a pittance compared to sportspeople and who do not seek or gain any personal glory.

Something indeed needs to be done about this. I am happy for kids to have Cadel or other sportspeople as heroes so long as they also understand what regular people do to keep them safe and well. It is a shame that so many of us see being rich and famous as an achievement in itself. Few see working hard to bring in a wage as something worth doing even if you might save a life while you are at it.

There is a need for us to stop this cult of celebrity and start realising that people are just people and acting or singing and being well paid for it does not make these people god like. Sportspeople who perform amazing feats might be considered heroic but we must remember others as well. This is where the media really do need to get involved. We all want to read about the latest or what is happening in the celebrity world. I for one know I would love to read about the exploits of regular people. I do not mean having reality TV shows that turn everyday people into celebrities. This is something I fail to understand and is a subject in itself!

No what I mean is how about regular stories about fire fighters or nurses? Why can’t we pick up a magazine and read about the day in a life of someone who saves lives for a living? I’m sure there are plenty of tales to be told. I imagine some days are boring but some must be packed full of funny stories and stories to make you cry and gasp. Much more interesting then who Jenifer Anniston might be dating or even how much an English football player is being paid this year.

By all means give the likes of Cadel their day in the sun as his was an amazing achievement but let us not forget other things going on in the world. Let us remember the likes of Sergeant Buckley who made this country a safer place. Let’s tell our kids about the amazing things everyday people do. When we select our heroes let’s look honestly at why we choose them. What it is about this person that makes me see him or her as a hero? Are they brave? Noble? If you think so then fine. At the end of the day whoever you see as a hero is truly up to you.

People don’t choose to become heroes. Other people make them such by calling them that. Of course people are more likely to be called heroes if they are read about in a magazine or a book. I read a book about Smithy. People see sportspeople and their achievements all over the news. When do we see anything about people like Sergeant Buckley or brave fire fighters? Maybe a small snippet of news then it is gone forever. Let’s work on changing that.

I have been thinking about Smithy. Of course he did in fact serve his country and was awarded The Military Cross for gallantry in service. So I think by my standards he is still quite worthy of the hero status!

On a side note I feel obliged to let you all know that Sergeant Buckley did not live to a ripe old age. He died in 1922 from a horse riding accident. Imagine surviving the war only to die at home falling off a horse? It puts things in perspective doesn’t it?

Judging a book by its cover.. or a Blog as the case may be

I should be writing a blog right now. I should be coming up with something funny or informative to share with the world. What am I doing instead? Fighting with Blogger! That’s right! I hate the way my blog looks and I have been trying to fix it.

I am still not entirely happy with it but decided enough is enough for tonight and it will just have to do. But I am frustrated. There are so many nice looking blogs out there so why can’t I get mine to look nice?

First of all there seems to be a limited number of designs I can choose so that is not helpful for a start. Of course I am trapped within the realm of blogger rather than being able to make my own webpage but perhaps that is best for now. I can’t remember the last time I did anything with webpages and I have forgotten most of the HTML I learned for Ebay and Mypace. Small steps I think.

So I decided I could at least add some functions to my Blog. My twitter feed would be a great addition and it was so easy. I just clicked on a little button and this nice helpful box appeared and I popped my Twitter name in there and then it was on my page.  But then it disappeared. WTF? Where has it gone? Oh the box is there and it says Twitter but the feed is gone. So I click on the helpful little button again and I notice for the first time that those boxes that keep coming up at the bottom of my screen are actually Internet Explorer telling me that it is editing the page to prevent cross feeding. There is nothing I can click on to tell it that I want cross feeding and to leave things the bloody hell alone!

So I have given up. I will dredge through Internet Explorer tomorrow and try and find some settings to turn off so it will not interfere with my blog appearance. Or I may just take the short cut and ask hubby how to fix it! He will know right? He knows everything. But then again it has been a while since he has done any internet stuff. He does the most complex 3d animation work but I bet when I ask he may well just look at me blankly and I will be left on my own.

So this is how it is now? Writing comes with the necessity to be able to work with these gadgets and thingybobs in order to make your page look good so someone will want to read it? Are there people out there that click on a link to a blog and then close the page without reading it because they think the blog looks so last year or there is no twitter feed box or labels listed? How do they know they are not clicking away from the next big thing in writing?

If there had been blogs at the time what would Hemmingway’s have looked like? Or Jane Austen’s? Would they have even bothered? What about twitter or facebook? Can you imagine the tweets from Charles Dickens? Or Oscar Wilde?  Social media can be a great thing but you have to wonder if it is necessary. People managed to be successful writers before the internet was even invented. Was it harder for them or was it in fact easier?

But we live in a society where we do have the internet and we do have social media and so I suppose I should cut the whingeing. I know full well of course that appearances do matter.  They draw people in. People are not so stupid as to keep reading if they don’t like the content but chances are the look of something has had something to do with them being there in the first place.

It brings to mind of course the old adage that we should not judge books by their covers. We all do of course often in the greater arena to which the term applies such as judging people by the way they look but also about books themselves. There is so much more to books these days. Covers are an art form in themselves. They are designed to sell books, to hook people. A great cover will make you pick up the book and then depending on the kind of browser you are you may buy it based on that alone or read the blurb on the back. That too has to be great. It has to make you want to read the book. Chances are of course that the blurb is the most well written part of the book but once you are hooked you are hooked.

I have in the past been influenced by covers. I actually admit here to the whole world that I have bought bottles of wine because I liked the look of the label. Pathetic I know but there you have it. Sometimes the wine is great, other times average and sometimes so bad I will never buy it again.

So what does it all mean? The saying of course indicates we should not judge things merely by appearances for good or bad. A lovely label might equal crap wine. A horrible book cover may hide a masterpiece of fiction. A badly dressed slovenly person may be the best friend you could ever have if only you gave them a chance.

All these things are true but as human beings we are attracted to certain things. What is nice and attractive is different for all of us of course but many of us can not help ourselves if we see something that is visually appealing. We should then perhaps once attracted, pay close attention. Where is the wine from?  Is this a genre of fiction I usually read? What does the blurb or first paragraph tell me about the book? Is this person as nice as they look or do I feel uncomfortable with them once I have engaged with them?

Wise words indeed but it still does not answer how we manage to find the gems in the rough. The boring looking Blog pages which are actually great reads . The books with hideous covers that are masterpieces. Or the people who look scary but are in fact amazing.  What will make us look deeper to find these or will most of us not bother? It would be nice to think my writing will stand out no matter how it is presented but if I’m wise then I will help it along and make it look as nice as I can.

So that is my job over the next few weeks. I will come up with a great picture and try and iron out the problems. At some point I will probably move to wordpress so I have more options and maybe create my own website. No doubt all this will be fodder for future blogs so stay tuned.

In the meantime have a think about what you judge by its cover and how does that work out for you?

My Murder Mystery History

I’m doing something a bit different this week. I am not going to inform you of much or be preachy about anything (well maybe a little bit) but I just thought it would be nice to tell you all a story. It is a story of a woman who loves to read crime fiction. Who as my mother would put it, ’Loves a good murder.’ It all starts way back many years ago when I was a child when I first became aware such things existed.

My mum loves crime fiction, murder mysteries, basically anything where people die. As a child I found this very odd. She and my dad would watch every single program that had anything to do with death. Columbo was a favourite as was Quincy. Anyone remember Quincy? He was a medical examiner who solved the mystery of who killed whatever person ended up on his slab each week. Now I can’t have been too young as I suppose my mum would not have let me view such things when I was say a pre-schooler (although these type of shows were much less gruesome then they are these days) but I remember catching a few minutes of the show here and there and finally one week declaring in a somewhat exasperated manner that this was a horrible terrible show as someone dies every week!! This of course was met with much guffawing and some explanation along the lines of, ‘Well that is kind of the point.” I was completely bewildered and wondered whether other kids had parents who watched such strange TV shows.

Of course my mum was a reader too and read crime novels. I’m sure my dad read a few too. My mum still devours them with relish. I can’t recall ever really taking too much notice except for going through titles on the bookshelf and stumbling upon ‘An unsuitable job for a woman.’ I read the dust jacket and for about two years wanted to be a Vet. But that is a different story.

I was a reader and writer from a very young age and still love both. I always read way above my class level and just couldn’t get enough of it. There are plenty of crime readers out there who started with Nancy Drew or the Famous Five. I am not one of them. I do however recall reading Encyclopaedia Brown books. They stick out in my memory as books of my childhood. I don’t know if I could have put it in to words at the time but I loved the feeling of solving a puzzle. Of course there were no murders in them but there were mysteries that needed to be explained. I was enthralled by the notion of having to read something really carefully, taking note of every detail in order to be able to crack the puzzle. Best of all was the feeling of ‘a ha!’ when the mystery had been solved; the feeling that I had managed to work it out. Or even when I was completely clueless about the solution once it was revealed I could sort through the clues in my mind and think, ‘How did I not see that? I must take better care next time!’

I kept reading as I moved into my teens and was determined to read adult books. I did read some slushy teenage garbage but mostly I wanted to read classic novels or sophisticated stories. Most probably I was just trying to look smart but the results were wonderful. I found some treasures like ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’ and ‘Wuthering Heights.’ Both of which are two of my favourite books to this day. But one day I found myself carting along to school for the newly established reading time a copy of ‘The Thirty Nine Steps,’ What possessed me to choose such a book? I really can’t remember and that is strange because normally my memory for detail is exceptional but there you go possibly the most poignant part of the whole story and I can’t explain it properly. The only thing I can put it down to was that it was and still is considered a classic novel and that is perhaps what drew me. Or perhaps it was one of those books on the bookshelf and it just intrigued me or maybe it was just in my genes and fate made me find it.

Whatever the case I enjoyed it immensely. Of course it is considered more a thriller then a crime novel but nonetheless still has the basic fundamental basis of solving a mystery or a puzzle. Though I think I still did not see it. I did not make the connection between the feelings of satisfaction I got from reading this and the Encyclopaedia Brown books and my mum’s obsession with crime novels. I did not appreciate I was being lured into a ‘genre.’ A word that was probably unknown to me at the time.

Again I do not recall what inspired me to pick up an Agatha Christie for the first time. Again perhaps it was fate or perhaps there was just a copy lying about the place. But whatever it was the moment that changed my life. The book was ‘The Murder of Roger Ackroyd’ and I was blown away. I thought this was the most amazing thing in the world. To think that this woman could tell a story like that and have me sucked in wondering with eager anticipation who had committed the crime then completely knocking my socks off with the solution. I thought then and still do today that this woman was a genius. If I ever got my hands on a time machine she would be one of the people I would go back to meet.

Thus my love affair started in earnest. Somewhere along the line I started reading the same books as my mother. Following on the heels of Christie was a Colin Dexter, one I’m certain my mum had read before me. I also started watching the shows too and at no time did my mum give me an, ‘I told you so!’

I do remember the first murder mystery I ever solved for myself and that was ‘Murder on the Orient Express.’ I was super thrilled with myself! Though solving them is not really the point at least not for me. Often I will get a little bit right but not the whole story. Personally I prefer it that way. I love being surprised. My mum of course can solve the mystery within the first 5 chapters or within the first 10 minutes of the show. I say very little now when we sit together and watch something lest I get a, ‘You mean you haven’t worked that out yet?’

Of course once I did start reading crime novels on a regular basis I began to understand the term genre and found something out about the history of crime stories. I’m sure there is no other genre that has such a rich and interesting history but then again I am biased.

Learning this made me realise too that suddenly I was considered slightly less scholarly than some. I was completely overcome to discover that some people consider the genre an inferior one and one that is read by those unlikely to read more serious literature. I scoff at that! It’s a load of crap to be blunt. I read classics and books considered literature too but even if I didn’t I can’t see there is anything dumbed down about murder mystery or crime fiction. These require intelligence to write and intelligence to read. I would not judge anyone by what they read. I would not have much in common with someone who only reads romance novels but I would never label them unintelligent for their choice. I hate literary snobbery and can’t really believe it exists. We are all lovers of the written word and that is what is important.

I have seen many changes over the years. There are so many different types of crime novels now. The traditional cozy a la Agatha Christie has been joined by violent crime thrillers. We have serial killers and psychopaths now. Advances in science mean crimes are solved using blood platter pattern analysis, DNA evidence, profiling and various other methods. I probably know more about crime scene procedure then I really should. I’m not saying I could actually be a profiler but then again I seem to be getting the hang of it. There are entire series now based around profilers or those that analyse trace evidence and some of them are very good. There will always be room for good old fashioned detective work but now we have a choice. Do we want to delve into the minds of a killer? Do we want violent crimes described in great detail? Do we want to learn about knitting, making coffee or baking cakes while we solve a mystery? All these choices are available and more!

With the expansion of the genre and the amount of books out there seems to bring with it more and more criticism. There are many that find difficulties with the cozy amateur sleuth mystery. You really have to suspend belief to accept that a florist or café owner decides to investigate a murder and somehow manages to do so. Also when it is a series it is even harder to believe. I mean how many dead bodies have you come across in your life? And if you did come across one would you be inspired to solve the murder yourself?  But a good crime writer will make it totally plausible and you won’t even question it whilst reading the book.  Of course when you put the book down you might find yourself thinking that a hell of a lot of people get murdered in such a small town! But if the book hooked you and you are ready to pick up the next in the series then it really does not matter.

Also I find it a bit crazy when the professional sleuth whether they are a detective or medical examiner or DA is almost always targeted by the people they investigate. One series I read and enjoy mostly for its element of humour as well as sheer grossness of the killing methods has the detective being attacked, kidnapped, tortured or abused in almost every book. I mean how much bad luck can you get? Wouldn’t she change jobs? Wouldn’t she be a complete and utter basket case? Yet I keep reading them don’t I?

So where am I now? I am nearly 40 years old and still love reading crime fiction. I am lucky that there are thousands of great crime writers out there just waiting to be discovered by me. I love it when I find an author for the first time and love their work and then find there are 14 more in the series for me to track down. It is an amazing feeling. I am currently discovering a plethora of incredible Scandinavian crime writers. They have an amazing ability to pull you into the story. The backdrops are spectacular featuring dark and harsh winter’s that can be killers in themselves. I am also discovering how wonderful it is when even after all these years I just never see the twist coming. Jeffrey Deaver did it to me again last night. Just when I thought I was on the right track…

So could I write a murder mystery? I’d like to think I could but not sure it is on the agenda just yet but maybe one day. It is in my genes after all.