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As the Booker Prize winner is announced, the perennial questions resurface: What does winning truly mean for writers — and for readers? As public values shift, literary prizes ignite fierce debate about artistic merit, cultural relevance, and the commercial impact of awards. Can a prize still shape the future of fiction?
We worry about mortgages, family, and work, but a chance encounter with a Ukrainian refugee reveals a different kind of worry—one filled with uncertainty, displacement and fear. In a world that feels increasingly small, sometimes it takes a stranger to remind us of our place in it.
Australian writer Hal Porter once described himself as a 'watcher,' a quiet observer of life from the verandahs of his youth. Decades later, from a balcony in a Greek village, the same rhythms repeat — family conversations, street vendors, and the steady hum of village life — reminding us how time subtly transforms both what we see and how we see it.
In an uncertain world, the one certainty is that of change. Much like David Malouf’s idea that we are all exiles, even those of us who never leave home, for this is the effect that the passing of time has: familiar worlds become strange no matter where we are.
Digital dominance and the disappearance of print newspapers leaves older generations grappling with endless new tech. I still seek the tactile experience of newsprint — a challenge as publications move online. In an increasingly automated world, I’m not alone in reminiscing about the days when personal interactions were the norm.
The Prime Minister of Poland announced a $2.5 billion plan to fortify borders with Russian Kaliningrad and Belarus, highlighting the ongoing struggle for stability and security in a continent preparing for a future of conflict.
Where would we be without our friends? Good friends sustain us for decades through good times and bad and steer us through periods of change and crisis. One of the many downsides of old age is the loss of friends: they become ill and die. What to do then? How to cope?
For the men in these conflicts, there was an expectation they would resume the lives they had left behind as if nothing had happened, as if they had been on an extended business trip. It calls to mind a phrase that has become common in recent years: unexamined trauma.
Times are changed and we are changed with them. As societal norms evolve, from fashion to expressions of freedom and political attitudes, how does each of us adapt while preserving our core selves?
Tolstoy once wrote that exile is a long dream of home, but the dreaming does not persist forever, so that you eventually wake to the knowledge that home exists only in your head and in your memory. Welcome home, various people have been saying, but my silent question is Where is it?
Once upon a time it was fairly easy to distinguish fact from fiction, but now journalists in particular regularly merge the two. We are now forced to cope with notions such as alternative facts and the post-truth era. I, for one, cope badly with both, with this twisting of what I would like to be an essential and straightforward matter.
Change often hurts or is at least hard to adjust to. Sometimes I yearn for a simpler way of doing things, for a period when people’s expectations were more modest, and when the average person was not as materialistic. However, it has to be conceded that we have made progress in some areas, and that some changes are for the better.