How do you bury a poet?
Rachel Cook looks at the life and legacy of poet Dorothy Porter. Within hours of the news that poet Dorothy Porter had died, The Australian, The Age, The Sydney Morning Herald and the ABC had all run stories on the tragic loss. For the passing of an Australian writer to make page three is an unusual feat; for a poet to make page one tells you all you need to know about Dorothy Porter’s status in this country.
Five days after her death, I was on the hunt for a copy of her 2002 verse novel, Wild Surmise. As all major bookstores were waiting on deliveries, it took visits to three second-hand bookstores before I found what was their last copy; during my search all three shop owners told me they couldn’t keep up with the demand for Porter’s works. It is no exaggeration to say that all three were also undeniably solemn. When the papers said the literary world was in mourning, did they realise this also included people who trade in dusty book jackets and pennies for paperbacks?
One store had the article from The Sydney Morning Herald blu-tacked to the shelves behind the counter, the accompanying image of a powerful-looking woman sheathed in darkness with a rather intense stare – commanding every customer glance up at her as they entered – proved that even in newsprint Porter is magnetic. The caption below simply read, Dorothy Porter… seducer.
My first introduction to Porter was when I was studying for my Year 11 literature exam at Victoria’s State Library.
I think I typed in the words ‘lesbian’ and ‘poet’, a move surely replicated by hundreds, if not thousands of teenage girls on their way out of the closet and imagining a poet’s life for themselves. The computer obligingly responded with ‘Dorothy Porter (1954 - )’. For several minutes I just stared at the name in thrilled disbelief – here was confirmation that not only was there such a thing as a living lesbian poet, but that she was Australian.
Rachel Cook looks at the life and legacy of poet Dorothy Porter. Within hours of the news that poet Dorothy Porter had died, The Australian, The Age, The Sydney Morning Herald and the ABC had all run stories on the tragic loss. For the passing of an Australian writer to make page three is an unusual feat; for a poet to make page one tells you all you need to know about Dorothy Porter’s status in this country.
Five days after her death, I was on the hunt for a copy of her 2002 verse novel, Wild Surmise. As all major bookstores were waiting on deliveries, it took visits to three second-hand bookstores before I found what was their last copy; during my search all three shop owners told me they couldn’t keep up with the demand for Porter’s works. It is no exaggeration to say that all three were also undeniably solemn. When the papers said the literary world was in mourning, did they realise this also included people who trade in dusty book jackets and pennies for paperbacks?
One store had the article from The Sydney Morning Herald blu-tacked to the shelves behind the counter, the accompanying image of a powerful-looking woman sheathed in darkness with a rather intense stare – commanding every customer glance up at her as they entered – proved that even in newsprint Porter is magnetic. The caption below simply read, Dorothy Porter… seducer.
My first introduction to Porter was when I was studying for my Year 11 literature exam at Victoria’s State Library.
I think I typed in the words ‘lesbian’ and ‘poet’, a move surely replicated by hundreds, if not thousands of teenage girls on their way out of the closet and imagining a poet’s life for themselves. The computer obligingly responded with ‘Dorothy Porter (1954 - )’. For several minutes I just stared at the name in thrilled disbelief – here was confirmation that not only was there such a thing as a living lesbian poet, but that she was Australian.
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