From the desk of Roland Rocchiccioli – 19 March

Is it hubris which causes some people to think they know best about other people’s creative endeavours?

THE late Jackie Collins sold some four-hundred-million copies of her books. Curiously, and often, someone would presume to say, “Of course, you’re books are a formula. Everyone is the same, so they can’t be that difficult to write!”

Jackie was no shrinking violet, and retaliated accordingly, “If it’s as simple as you say, why don’t you write one?” Of course, they never did.

I recall, when I was writing my childhood memoir, And Be Home Before Dark, the editor at Hardy Grant publishers was concerned at the tone of some of the language I used to talk about the Wongi mob, the First Nation people in the north-eastern goldfields of Western Australia.

It was recommended I should remove the politically incorrect and racially pejorative descriptives: full-blood, half-caste and gin.

I was concerned. Out of respect, I telephoned Kuku Yalanji woman, and former NSW magistrate, Pat O’Shane AM. Although we had never met, she took time to listen to my concerns. It was at her insistence, and with her full support, that I retained the language. Without a moment of hesitation Magistrate O’Shane said, “You must write those things. It’s the truth. They call me a gin when I was at school.”

There is, on the part of some, a jaundiced determination to judge the past through a modern-day prism. The two are diametrically incompatible, in every aspect. The zeitgeist has, thankfully, altered; however, it should not be negated. Some of it was most distasteful but should, nonetheless, be recorded for posterity.

While there is no place for such vicious language in the modern lexicon, to ignore it, or more ominously, to erase it, would be to whitewash history. That’s how it was. Then was then; and now is now! However unpalatable, it still has an historical validity. It exposes much about who we were in those less enlightened times.

If the cavalier critics of Roald Dahl, and all the other writers, including Enid Blyton, whose works have been homogenised, believe they have the required talent to write a best-selling work, they should get-on and do it. In the meantime, they should keep their grubby little paws of those works which have proven to be successful, and are not in their prerogative.

It is an irritatingly, enduring conundrum: What makes one group of people believe they have the right to tell others what they may, or may not, read; or more hubristically, what sort of language is acceptable? Be assured: their ‘no’ does not carry more weight than your ‘yes’.

Equally, I am back-teeth-grindingly-fed-up with being told how I should, or should not, behave, and mostly by people who would not know.

It has been said, by others, I have impeccable manners. That may, or may not, be true, but certainly I know how to behave – and under all circumstances.

I believe in the adage: ‘you give as good as you get’.

I am Italian. I am confrontational by nature; however, there is a distinction between confrontation and aggression. I love a stoush – a robust exchange of ideas which accommodates exploration for an explanation.

To every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. If verbally prodded, I react. I make no distinction between genders, and I see no reason for it to garner quarter.

It is simple: as ye sow, so shall ye reap.

Hold your tongue, and mind your manners!

Roland can be contacted via [email protected].