This extraordinary woman is at the heart of Marriages of the Magdalene. Yet she was not the inspiration behind my novel – at least not at first, although when she entered it felt inevitable and right. A story often emerges as an impulse after you have spent time with a subject, years sometimes. I had been trying to rediscover lost Christianity by scraping away centuries of overlaid dross, while finding that even so-called heresies that had to flow underground had been diverted by various interpretations. The impulse came with my conviction that early Christianity was a mystery, and the writings of those first followers of The Way were and are initiatory documents about love that cannot be li
Surfing reminds me of a dance, a pas de deux with the ocean. I think that’s why I reacted when I read that a super modern pool with pre-programmed waves is to be built for surfers. No need to face shark attacks, possible drowning and all that endless boring waiting. Wonderful? I don’t think so. This is commodification again, truly the dominant power of modern life – and something immeasurably significant would be lost. For twelve years I lived near a surf beach on Victoria’s Mornington Peninsula. Number Sixteen it was called, an appropriate no frills name for this wild part of the coast where cliffs subside without warning, where there are no lifeguards, no flags on the sand to swim between
