Many, many years ago (we’re talking pre-Covid and that’s almost another timeline altogether!), the ABC would publish writing by nobody’s like me in their ‘ABC Open’ model. One prompt was ‘the moment we met’. I sat down and surprised myself with this little piece. It was never published because it referenced a commercial character and the ABC don’t ever go there. Never mind, I still have it! Meanwhile, I’ve just received the final instalment of the Phryne Fisher series. The author, Kerry Greenwood, passed away earlier this year, leaving behind an essentially complete manuscript set here in Bendigo. In honour of both Phryne and her (lesser known but equally entrancing) literary sister Corinna Chapman, I thought I might just share these thoughts of mine from circa 2013. At the time I was new to eBooks and was collecting Phryne secretly on my Kindle… Hope you enjoy it!

The Moment We Met

We are an unlikely pair. Your glamour, and wealth, and especially that peerage in the British aristocracy, all suggest that we wouldn’t move in the same circles. Work, home and family keep me spinning in a whirl of domestic responsibility. Professional demands leads me down intellectual paths and I wasn’t going to meet you there. It’s a miracle that we met at all.

I think we have progress to thank for our relationship. An aberration in my usual dedication to doing things the old way. In a moment of weakness I gave in… And bought an eReader. Immediately I regretted it. I felt as though I had forsaken my true self. The one who writes with pen and ink at a little writing desk in the front window. I like to correspond with others, pen to paper and a stamp on the envelope. And when I read, I treasure the act as a visceral experience. A leather cover, hefting the weight of a book into my hands and smelling that wonderful aroma of words in their natural state. 

After trying to justify my purchase with lists of benefits (it will encourage the children to read; I will always have a book to hand), my financially sensible self turned up with an attitude of ‘now you’ve spent the money, you had better make the most out of it’.

The first acquisitions were chosen by my frugal self. Free books, out of copyright but safe and familiar titles. The entire Anne of Green Gables series, one to tempt the kids into favourites of old. Some literary purchases followed, a little more expensive but justifiable to the academic self. The ease with which new books could appear in my hand, at any hour and with an immediacy that was novel and pleasing built both confidence and recklessness. 

Then late one night, when I was looking for something new to drift off to sleep with, you introduced yourself. We honestly wouldn’t have passed first introductions if we had met in a bookshop. It’s fairly certain I would have smiled at you, maybe paused, but ultimately I would have walked past to other aisles. Not with the immediacy of the eReader. No time to consider and weigh up options. The usual guards to spending are down in the relaxing comfort of the bed. One click and there you were. In my boudoir (your words), I had no defences for your charms. My long standing literary snobbery successfully overcome, we proceeded to make our acquaintance.

I have to be honest here. Of that first evening I have no memory of detail. We must have gotten along swimmingly as we met again. Night after night and book after book. I let you take me along with you on risqué adventures, I came to know your household as my own, and quietly applauded your independence. I’m happy to live vicariously through your more dangerous liaisons. A confession – I’m envious of your wardrobe. But when would I wear a silk gown?

A revelation to me, it turns out I need someone like you around. You remind me of the importance of fun and laughter, and teach me to stop taking myself so seriously. Your reverence for great food, good wine and stimulating company have brought inspiration to my own social activities. I smile when you flaunt your femininity as a strength and share your shameless pride in your intelligence.

While the future is not mine to read I do feel confident of one thing, and I’m no longer ashamed to admit it. This is a relationship for the long term. I can’t promise to see you regularly. Like any friendship there is great value in the refreshing nature of a break. I will continue to see others, there can be no illusions of monogamy here. But be assured that whenever you next have a story to tell me, Phryne Fisher, I will be ready to hear it.