CBCA Awards--acceptance speeches.

OLDER READERS--Tales from Outher Suburbia

Shaun Tan

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Before giving thanks to a good number of people, I do want to say how great it is to be here at Sea World. Among other things, my book concerns a dugong, a deep sea diver and nine turtles ... a thematic advantage that may have just nudged it over the line for the CBC judges. After all, it's inherently debatable to say that one creative work is better than another, and it's exciting simply have to be short-listed in the company of such fine novelists, Jackie, Melina, James, Dave (another who can't decide if he should be a writer or an illustrator and hedges his bets), and Tony--a fellow expatriate Perthian, a good friend, and one of the first people to buy my illustrations, but otherwise could be a kind of nemesis as we've previously found ourselves short-listed together (Tony winning). This time his book has a nautical theme ... close, but not marine biological enough for Sea World: had the awards been at a maritime museum, the judges may have made a different decision.

It's also very interesting to be in such company under a category of 'Older Readers' which is unusual for a picture book creator--and a great category it is, because it includes everyone from precocious seven year olds to those 'children' who happen to be in their nineties. I'm also pleased that in other categories the CBC includes a reading age that begins 'from birth', and I look forward to a government initiative that introduces tiny book stands into every delivery ward in Australian by 2010, with a small carousel containing all of this year's Notable Books.

Of course, categories aside, the CBC awards have a profound history, and I remember as a child being awed by the small displays at our school library, with the big letters BOOK WEEK cut out from coloured paper (unpaid child labour), with star stickers, glitter and sometimes--if lucky-fancy pipe-cleaners shaped into book-related things. It was something of a shrine: these books were made of no ordinary paper. The only disappointment was the inability to borrow now mystical copies that had previously been perfectly accessible! With this in mind, winning such an award today is a great honour, and strange to think that my book is now on that small table with the gold stars and pipe-cleaner marvels.

Any book is usually the product of an enthusiastic group of people, not a sole creator, regardless of what the cover might have you believe, so there are a number of very dedicated people to thank: Rosalind Price, who took this strange assemblage of short stories on in the first place, and suggested many healthy initial edits. Jodie Webster, who took the helm and ought to have a title page credit (as many editors should) for her creative suggestions and sensitivity to the subtleties of each story, helping to pin this weird floating world to the page. To my wife, Inari, who aside from moral support supplied all of the brilliant typography, and much of the design of the book. To Sarah Tran, for making publicity duties a joy rather than a chore; to Angela Namoi for being a foreign-rights tornado, and Erica Wagner both for her keen support of these tales and for looking after our parrot and budgies while we were on holiday. Actually, thanks to all of the Allen & Unwin staff for making this project such a pleasant experience.

Much appreciation goes to my family back in Perth, who recognize more semi-autobiographical details of these stories than any other reader, such as melting plastic Christmas trees. My brother Paul in particular supplied many ideas unwittingly, including the initial notion of creating perfect bathroom reading--stories you can finish in less than five minutes.

Thanks to my agent, Sophie Byrne, who usually knows what I'm thinking before I do; to the Australia Council's Literature Board for a very supportive grant, to the Australian Society of Authors for their support of a healthy literary culture (which begins at the creator's desk rather than the retail bookshelf). Much appreciation goes to the often unsung heroes of young-people's books; librarians, teachers, booksellers and blogging enthusiasts for celebrating those books that are hard to categorize, and may otherwise have trouble reaching their audience. Hats off, of course, to the judges for all of their work and attention, a very demanding job.

And finally, thanks to all of those readers, most of whom we will never meet, but we know you are out there with your recycled-pillow-case book-bags. I was very pleased that Ron Brooks, when launching this book, called it a 'multivitamin pill for the outer suburbs'. After all, this is where many of us grew up, reading as a way of connection to a bigger world, both outside and inside of ourselves. With that in mind, I'd like to dedicate this award to all of those outer suburban libraries and the librarians who garden them, keeping kids like me amply supplied with windows on other worlds. My main hope is always that my stories and pictures can feed something back into those shaded dewey decimal corridors, somewhere between bright fast food outlets and discounted whitegoods.

YOUNGER READERS--Perry Angel's Suitcase

Glenda Millard

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Your Excellency, distinguished guests, ladies and gentlemen, to be the recipient of the Children's Book Council of Australia, Book of the Year Award for younger readers is a great honour. In the hope of expressing what it means to me, I'd like to speak briefly on the topic of flying. A few weeks ago, I purchased a greeting card. On it is a picture of a young woman holding a baby. They both have wings. The verse inside reads: Children need two things; roots and wings.

When Perry Angel arrived at the Kingdom of Silk he brought nothing more than a small, shabby suitcase. The Silk children offered him a pair of wings, but although he dearly wanted to try them on, Perry was afraid to put down his suitcase. He'd never imagined what it would be like to fly. His only dream was to find a place where people would let him stay long enough to put down roots.

I've been wanting wings for as long as I can remember. When I was Perry Angel's age I used to launch myself off the roof of my Nana's shed, almost convinced that one day a gust of wind would buoy me up and let me soar. Two of my favourite books, David Almond's Skellig and Keith Miller's The Book of Flying deal with winged creatures who are in many ways very similar to us poor, flightless beings. I still collect vacant bird's nests and fallen feathers and wonder if there's some correlation between that activity and my fascination with flight. Like you, I'm familiar with the often-used phrase, flight of the imagination, so I wonder has my obsession with flying merely been preparation for writing?

I see distinct parallels between writing and flying. Beginning a new story engenders an uncannily similar feeling to that of uncurling my toes from the edge of a corrugated iron roof and leaping into the wild blue yonder. Both are simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating. I have also discovered that there are moments when being a writer makes me feel as though I'm truly flying. Today is one of them.

Many thanks to my family who stand by me when I'm teetering on the edge, who pick me up when I plummet and who celebrate when I soar, especially my husband Douglas and daughter Rosie who are here with me today. Also in the audience is my dear friend Margaret Hamilton who helped me discover my wings when she published my first picture book, Unplugged!. Since then Margaret has continued to play a significant role in many of my books and in providing advice, nurture and encouragement.

I am proud to stand beside the amazingly perceptive Stephen Michael King who I am certain draws characters from the inside out, giving priority to hearts and souls before flesh and bones. When I count my blessings, I count my collaboration with Stephen twice.

To Belinda Bollinger, formerly of ABC Books and now of HarperCollins. Thank you for being constant during a time of change. Thanks also to all at HarperCollins, who have made Belinda and I so welcome and who are about to publish All the Colours of Paradise, the fourth book in the Kingdom of Silk series. To the judges who have willingly and professionally undertaken this enormous task, I thank you all most sincerely. And finally, the Children's Book Council of Australia. I'm sure everyone here today would agree that without this wonderful organization, the children's authors and illustrators of Australia would receive very little public recognition. I'm very proud today to wear their flying badge.

Stephen Michael King

(written post awards because the Henry within him didn't realise until the last minute that he needed to present a speech) (Stands) (Thinks)

'I'll just find my scrap of paper'

(Pulls crumpled scrap of paper from pocket, steps back, steps forward, adjusts microphone, looks at paper, dismisses it ... speaks strongly as if he's worried people mightn't be able to hear)

'Much of who I am is connected with books. From the books my mum read to me, the books I now write and illustrate ... to the books I read to my own children. (relaxes, voice softens)

I've always wanted to make beautiful books. Books like the ones that I admired as a child. These books (holding award upward) ... the Silk series ... are beautiful books. I cry when I read these books. I cry when I illustrate them. I'm privileged and thankful to have worked on them. (pause, thinks)

There are a few special Thank yous ...

(pause) Belinda Bolliger and everyone at the ABC (pause) Good old (sorry Margaret) ... Margaret Hamilton. She's always found great books for me ... Where does Thursday Go? ... great! Margaret Connolly my agent. Of course Glenda (pause) (Wanted to say 'Of course Glenda ... I think the universe conspired to create this collaboration ... hopefully it keeps conspiring'. Unfortunately was too overwhelmed to get the words out and could only say ...) ... and the CBCA. Thank you.'

(Glenda then touches my arm knowingly and whispers 'you did fine' ... we both walk away smiling)

Footnote: I have lunch, chat with Julie Vivas (a comrade), lunch with Bob Graham (I find him calming, I couldn't think of anyone I'd prefer to lose to), say a few words with Shaun Tan and shake hands with Lincoln Hall. Unfortunately I have to leave early to catch a plane (signing autographs on the way out). I've had a great day (equally matching the day I gained Roald Dahls' autograph (but that's another story).

EARLY CHILDHOOD--How to Heal a Broken Wing

Bob Graham

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Thank you, I am really thrilled for How to Heal a Broken Wing to receive the Early Childhood award and I would like to thank all who have worked so hard to make the CBC awards possible; the judges of course, but also the organizers, you CBC volunteers working away behind the scenes all over Australia, ultimately for your love of children's books and wanting to put them into the hands of kids. Also I want to thank Walker Books, especially Lucy and Deirdre, Editor and Designer who are always present during the making of my books. They are enthusiastic, wise, and they help my stories along. Whenever they wobble they set them straight again.

As I see my own contribution, since I wrote my first book Pete and Roland back in 1982 I have had the great fortune to sit at home drawing pictures all day and finding words to fit them. What could be more fun than that? I try to make ideal little worlds between the covers of my books, worlds I would like to see where people treat each other with respect and let their dogs push them off the couch.

I try to imagine all the characters in my books living pretty close to each other, (eg. I know that Max and his Superhero family live just round the corner from Will and his injured bird, and that Sandy Beach is a fifty cents bus ride away.) In this city in my head, the police and Max's Superhero family have nothing to do. The worst crime might be that a library book is overdue. But it's not boring. There's brilliant music all over town, there's also free ice cream, and kids can ride their skateboards anywhere they please, even down the steps of the Town Hall. But while I'm making my books the real world keeps pushing in. Images of suffering and despair on the TV and in the newspaper. You children are seeing that too, it's in your living rooms and part of the fabric of your lives.

I guess what I am trying to say in How to Heal a Broken Wing is that in a world that often seems to be moving so fast and being so uncaring, where people seem to be losing touch with their feelings, that children are curious, they still have time, and have empathy for the world around them.

I like to find my stories not very far from where I happen to be. I like to find them either in my head or right at my feet if I can, and down there is where children see the world from. And that's where problems, (even far away ones,) can be fixed. I wanted to write a story with Hope in it, so I put hope into the hands of a child--right where I think it should be. Thank you.

PICTURE BOOKS--Collecting Colour Kylie Dunstan

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Thank you to the Children's Book Council of Australia Committee for choosing Collecting Colour as 2009 Picture Book of the Year. Having been short-listed alongside such a talented and prestigious group of writers and illustrators, finding that I had won came as a complete surprise. 1 could not be more honoured and excited. I would have loved more than anything to have participated in the ceremony today and met many of the people whose books I have been reading and admiring for years. Not to mention the people I have spoken with via email, but never met in person. I look forward to doing that when I return from Vietnam next year.

Over ten years ago now, I had the opportunity to further my interest in Aboriginal Art by working with the artists and crafts people of Gunbalanya in East Arnhem Land. I spent a year as an Arts officer at Injalak Arts and Crafts and it was during this time that I started to think about a picture book idea. At the time I worked in Arnhem Land very few women were painting. Most, as was the tradition, wove baskets, mats and bags for sale at the art centre. It was always such a pleasure to escape the very male dominated art centre and spend a day with the ladies collecting the pandanus and colour. With only city driving and automatic car experience, my four-wheel driving skills were, understandably, laughed at as they directed me, wide-eyed and white-knuckled, down so-called 'tracks' where there was no 'track' visible to me. The women I knew were strong, proud people, the backbone of their community.

Although Collecting Colour is structured around the process of making fibre art, for me it is as much about cross-cultural friendship. How nice it would be to see Indigenous Australian faces, in all their individual guises, from traditional remote and rural settings to urban city landscapes, represented more prominently in Australian picture books and not categorised exclusively as 'indigenous' or 'educational'. While it was only a year I spent in Arnhem Land, it ha certainly shaped me and I'm sure will continue to do so. It was a privilege to have worked alongside such a warm and inspiring group of people.

I, of course, have a number of people to thank for their part in the development of Collecting Colour. Most importantly I would like to thank the Injalak Arts and Crafts Committee of Management, the Gunbalanya Traditional Owners for their support of this book and the fibre artists for allowing me to participate in the basket-making process. I hope that I have captured some of the beauty of the fibre art, the country and especially the people.

The publication of Collecting Colour came about via an Australian Society of Authors mentorship, so I would like to acknowledge the importance of such programs and thank the ASS and especially Sally Rippin, my mentor, for her feedback and advice. Many thanks, of course, to my publisher Lothian (Hachette Australia), Tegan Morrison and Georgie Wilson for her beautiful book design. To the wonderful Helen Chamberlin, my editor for Collecting Colour, thank you so much for your patient guidance through what was a totally new process for me. I feel very honoured to have been selected for publication by you and so pleased (and more than a little relieved) that you punt on me has paid off. Thank you also for reading on my behalf today.

Mum and Dad, thank you for your unfailing belief in my abilities and of course for all the baby-sitting. And finally my two gorgeous girls (Camille and Sylvie) and my husband Brenda for all their love, encouragement and--even though it may have seemed unappreciated at the time--'constructive criticism'. Thank you.

EVE POWNALL AWARD--Alive in the Death Zone

Lincoln Hall

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The first prize I ever won was for a black crayon drawing entered by my teacher in the 6-8 years category YWCA School Art Competition. My prize was a box set of 72 Derwent Coloured Pencils. My drawing was of a cat sitting with one foreleg straight and the other bent while it lent forward to lick its paw. I cleverly avoided the challenge of drawing the cat's face by turning it inwards, the back of its head facing the viewer. Although I was too young to express in words what I had done, this was my first experience of 'less being more'.

Well, in terms of being more, there were no more prizes for me for almost half a century. During the first of those five decades I wrote adventurous tales of the kind that all children write at school, except that mine took up many more pages. My first published book was about the first Australian climb of Mount Everest, of which I was chief organizer. I named the book White Limbo, currently in its fourth edition (and a good follow-up book for readers of Alive in the Death Zone). My second book was a historical novel about the CIA working with Tibetan guerillas, which demanded travelling around the world to do my research. Then I returned to the genre of hard-core, true-life adventure stories that involved, at times, the death of my companions. Needing to step away, I founded a magazine, then became the editor of another. For several years I wrote a newspaper column about koalas and cockroaches and other endearing creatures. Writing was in my blood, but because my books were not everyday reading, I never expected to win a prize. Things changed when I wrote my adventure book for children. Adventure runs in the blood of all children, but by the time those youngsters are let loose into the world their adventurous blood has run dry. That childhood sense of mounting excitement, of pregnant expectation, of treasures to be discovered around the next corner, these magical experiences become overshadowed by the mundane and practical. Instead of adventure there were music lessons and gymnastics after school, hockey and football on weekends. Adventures came in the form of video games and blockbuster movies. Of course, there are adventure books for children, old classics such as The Chronicles' of Narnia, The Lord of the Rings, and new classics like Deltora Quest, His Dark Materials, Harry Potter, with all titles these invoking fictional worlds.

One of the reasons for Alive in the Death Zone's success is that it's a book of real life adventures. Unfortunately it is also a book with real deaths, when mountaineers were overpowered by ever-present dangers. Fantasy tales are great books to read, involving mystical worlds and children as heroes, but somehow the make-believe nature of such books are not entirely satisfying. There is a reality out there that young people are wanting to experience ad understand. Kids know there are adventures to be had in the real world, but they seem frustratingly far away. In Alive in the Death Zone I begin the tale of my adventurous life as a child, clambering over boulders while calling them castles. The narrative continues, of course, leading to more serious escapades, leading to fame, but also leading to frostbite and death. My book tells of the real thing, with real rescuers, with real heroes. Heroes are always a good end to a story.

The immediate lure of Alive in the Death Zone is its visual qualities, seducing readers into gaining an understanding one of the world's most inaccessible places, in both geographical and conceptual terms. While the words and the photos are mine, the key component was my friend Margaret Hamilton. Margaret had worked with me on Dead Lucky, my book for grown-ups about my Mount Everest misadventure. She saw the potential, for younger readers and the rest is now history. Of course, others were heavily involved in the production. Linsay Knight at Random House supported the project immediately. Heather Curdie managed the multiple facets of the project, making sure no vital words, images or concepts were omitted. Liz Seymour tackled several versions of the design until, like Goldilocks, it was just right. Margaret Gee, my agent, kept me on track and took on my burdens. Yae Morton was the perfect publicist when it came to the fun part: travelling the country and promoting the book. To all these people I owe a great debt of thanks--and of course to the CBCA for perpetuating the glory of reading.

Benefactors of the Children's Book Council of Aust. Awards Foundation: Scholastic Australia P/L, Allen & Unwin Aust P/L, Laurie Copping OAM (in memoriam), Thyne Reid Trust No 1

Major Donors: Australia Post, Sandy Campbell, Era Publications, Five Mile Press, Libby Gleeson AM, Bob Graham, Hachette Children's Books Aust, Hardie Grant Egmont, HarperCollins Aust, Ipswich Dist Teacher-Librarians' Network, James N. Kirby Foundation, Kinross-Wolaroi School, Koala Books, Library Board of Q'land, Beryl Moncrieff Matthews (in memoriam), Angela Namoi, NT Government, Parents & Boys at Edgecliff Prep Sydney Grammar School, Penguin Aust, Random House Aust, Marion E. Robertson (in memoriam), Emily Rodda (Jennifer Rowe), Gillian Rubinstein, Maurice Saxby AM, SA Dept of the Arts & Cult Dev, Julie Vivas, Walker Books Aust, Cassandra Weddell Qld (in memoriam), Maisie Williams, Garah, NSW (in memoriam), Sue Williams (in memoriam)