The title of this feature, "The near interview of Richard Z", is partly a tribute and partly a recognition of the circumstances under which the interview was conducted. The tribute is to Richard Zola's poem, "the near death of Richard Z"; the circumstances are that Richard and I have never met, face-to-face, never spoken to one another voice-to-voice. The interview was carried out in cyber space via email. I sent Richard a list of questions which he answered. He sent them back. I edited and re-jigged, and sent them back for his final approval. He did some more corrections, additions, etc., and what you see here is the result. Virtual theatre. I hope you find it as stimulating as we did.Billy Marshall Stoneking: I cop a bit of
harrassment now and then from people about my name.
Even though it really is my name, it doesn't sound very
real to some people. Is Zola your real name? What are its
origins?
Richard Zola: Really? I imagined the Stoneking
part of your name was an accolade given to you by the
Aboriginal people you worked with. That would be real.
B M S: Yeah, there are a few who've thought that. A feminist magazine once published one of my poems cos they thought I was a woman, though they misspelled my name, Billie instead of Billy.
RZ: I like the idea of false names, false identities,
fugitives and so on. Some do it for political reasons,
or as a kind of exorcism of the past. Mine doesn't
sound real? Critics like it... if they don't like a
piece they can call it a ZZZZZola. Pity my sister
Lola. When her Spanish friend sees her at the end of
the street she yells, "hola lola zola". Billy, let's
get on with this and the question may answer itself.
Zola is an Italian name.
B M S: When did you start to write, or have you
always been a writer?
RZ: When did it start? When did I notice the first
symptoms? Well, growing up... my family was poor. My
father was paid on a Thursday and often the money ran
out on the following Tuesday, despite my mother's
careful budgeting. We didn't have electricity in the
cottage we lived in until I was fourteen in about
1963. The rooms were lit by gas and candles. So... no
electricity, no TV, but we had a radio; we had books,
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