Luke Davies is the Shit

So I have this ridiculous habit of forming obsessive crushes on writers, film-makers, singers, musicians etc. And these crushes are not limited to the end product, or the artistic endeavour itself. No, no, it extends to the person actually producing the work. Call it vicarious creativity or something.

Em & I went to a ra-ra Book Reading tonight (god, our smug intellectual middle-class-ness sickens me) – the writer in question, yes you guessed it – Luke Davies. Author of Candy – you know, the one where Heath Ledger played a drug addict. See how superior we are? Not only did we read the book – BEFORE the movie came out – but we actually went to the author’s book reading… hello!

So, Luke Davies. Clearly the man is a good 10 years older than me (I’d like to pretend that I’m guessing here but I’ll be frank, I googled him the second I got home. According to Wikipedia he was born in 1962 in Pymble, NSW and has a brother called Ben. Shall I continue? Perhaps not.). And yet, about a minute in, I lean over to Em and oh so casually whisper “isn’t he charming?”. God love her, she nodded without tearing her adoring eyes off him. Who am I to be jealous, she found him first. And hey, that makes him – roughly(!!) – 19 years older than her so I don’t feel so ridiculous about my sudden passion for an older man.

It started out well. We were in the front row. I didn’t knock over any glasses. I asked a reasonably insightful question during the Q&A which he seemed to enjoy answering. There was plenty of eye contact and I was feeling pretty damn ace. We eventually wandered over to buy a copy of his book and started chatting. Everyone was sort of leaving but the conversation was flowing nicely. Em dropped my name in the conversation and 10 minutes later he referred to me by name… not only had he taken notice but he still remembered it later – egads!!!!! By this point I was crowing, really crowing. Internally of course.

Then my usual self took over. The know-it-all blather commenced. About novels & language in comparison to film & imagery – how the two shouldn’t be compared. A nice enough point if made once. Concisely. But am I capable of that? Of course not. I trip over myself to point out my fucking fountain of knowledge and experience. What knowledge and experience am I referring to? Yes well that is the question isn’t it? Which one of us here has written 3 novels (one of which is a bestseller) and one very successful film script (longer than 7 minutes)? Not me folks, not me. From smug to mortified in 2 easy steps. That’s how it’s done.

Why is Luke Davies the shit? Well, how many people do you know who start a book with:

“FUCKING, AND FLYING, were the best, the most solid, of all the things I did.”

I love that man dammit!