North Melbourne Books: Fourteen chronicles in harrowing detail a year of intense homophobic bullying you experienced at the age of fourteen. Beatings, betrayals and a feeling of constant humiliation filled your school days. Teachers and guardians were of no help, allowing the abuse to go unchecked. What made you want to tell your story?
 
Shannon Molloy: Four years ago, at the height of the Safe Schools controversy, I was on the train on the way home from work when I read a news story about an MP giving a speech in Parliament. He described the program as a way for gay men to ‘groom’ children.
 
I was horrified. I felt an intense mix of rage and deep sadness. And I thought, if this bothers me, as a privileged and settled 30-year-old man… imagine what 14-year-old me would feel?
 
Imagine what a confused and scared kid in the regions, seeing an elected official stand in the hallowed Parliament House, to describe people like me as paedophiles, would feel in that moment.
 
I got home and bashed out this first-person opinion piece about why we need a program like Safe Schools and began it with a story about trying to kill myself when I was 14.
 
The response was phenomenal. Among all of the lovely messages from friends, family and strangers, were far too many notes from men like me who’d experienced something similar, from boys like I was who still do live through that same hell, and from mothers whose boys weren’t lucky enough to survive like I had.
 
So, I realised there was a story here that could maybe give people hope and remind people of where we’ve come from and how far we still have to go.

NMB: The book is intensely personal, going into so many painful experiences. Was it a difficult book to write?
 
SM: I joke that it was like free therapy that I got paid for.
 
There was tough parts to relive, especially the ill-fated romance with Tom, but it was also a hugely cathartic story.
 
Much of this book was totally unknown to the people who love me and know me the best. My mother didn’t know a lot of it, and she’s basically my best friend. I’d barely told my husband little bits and pieces.
 
I realised that 20 years later, I was still living with the shame, trauma, anger and sadness of that horrible year. I had squashed it all into a little box and buried it deep in my soul. By coming face to face with it and putting it all down on a page, I could finally acknowledge what happened to me and let it hurt. It felt OK that it hurt.
 
And I could finally grieve for the childhood that I lost.

NMB: How did you remember the chronology of events for that single year? Did you use a diary? Did friends help with their memories?
 
SM: That was one of the most challenging parts of it – figuring out when things happened!
 
I did keep a diary during those years, but in some sort of hyper dramatic moment in my mid-teens, I set fire to them all. I can’t remember why. I suspect it had something to do with a boy.
 
I was lucky (in a strange way) that a lot of terrible things happened at school, and so I could link it to some element of time that I recalled. The start of winter break. Being near a school dance. That kind of thing.
 
Also, a lot of my memories are tied to music. I can still hear a song from that era now and I’m instantly taken back to a particular point.
 
We used to watch Video Hits and Rage every weekend and listen to the Weekly Top 40 on radio. I did a lot of research to figure out when songs linked to memories were in the charts, so that helped me place important moments in the year.
 
But, I’ve probably got something wrong, I’m sure. A few were tough. There was one event that happened when it was not too hot, not too cold… so either autumn or spring. I flipped a coin for that one.

NMB: The most astonishing thing about Fourteen is how teachers let so much bullying go unremarked. In one shocking example, a school counsellor says you are to blame for the bullying because of the way you walked! The book is set in the late 90s. Do you think things have improved much today, 20 years on?
 
SM: I really hope so. I really want to give some deeply hopeful and optimistic message about how wonderful things must be now for kids.

But one of my main subjects that I cover as a reporter is mental health, and so I know that things aren’t fine. I know that gay, lesbian and bisexual kids are six times more likely to attempt suicide than their heterosexual counterparts. I know that for trans kids, it’s double that number.

I know that LGBT kids are still excluded and taunted by their peers and so tend to withdraw socially in their key adolescent development years, which can have life-long ramifications.
 
I know that LGBT kids are twice as likely to experience homelessness – and younger.
 
I think teachers are better and more open-minded. I think schools are more accountable (because they have to be). And I think kids know more now than ever, even if just a little more, that they can be whoever they want.
 
But there’s still much room for improvement.

NMB: What would be your advice to young gay people in school today?

SM: It’s so cliché but it’s true. It gets better. Oh my, how it gets better. You find your people. Your find your place in the world. You can do whatever you want with your life. Life can be wonderful!
 
It’s not all perfect, of course. It’s hard. But you get to choose how you deal with all that stuff, surrounded by a group of people who love you exactly the way you are.

NMB: What books are you enjoying reading at the moment?
 
SM: I’m not very good at doing two things at once and so I actually haven’t read a book since I started writing mine. That’s actually shocking to admit.
 
So, now that this is done and out in the world, I’m returning to the pile of bought but ignored books, starting with my dear friend Rick Morton’s best-seller One Hundred Years Of Dirt. It came out 18 months ago. I’m a terrible friend.

Fourteen: My Year of Darkness, and the Light that Followed, by Shannon Molloy. Published by Simon & Schuster. $29.99​

North Melbourne Books: When Melbourne journalist Chrissie O'Brian is asked to write a puff piece about a female crane operator working at the Port of Melbourne, she gets more than she bargained for. Where the Truth Lies is your debut novel. What made you write about the wharves?

Karina Kilmore: I come from a big political and social justice family and on both sides of my family there is a very strong connection to the wharves and sea trade. Right back to the early 1800s, I’m descended from a New Zealand whaling captain but in more recent generations my grandfather and great uncles, even a great aunt, worked on the wharves or trucked goods to the docks. However, I have also studied and worked in business, as a finance journalist, so I understand the profit drive of companies on behalf of their investors and shareholders and I wanted to highlight that tribal difference between the two worlds.

NMB: Your main character, Chrissie, has a compelling backstory. She's vulnerable yet tenacious, determined to prove herself but haunted by her past. How did this character evolve?

KK: Chrissie’s role as a journalist has definitely come from my career working in newspapers. Newsrooms have been such a big and important part of my life and they’re such a great melting pot of people —  with lots of great characters! For the purpose of the book, I wanted to show that journalism is such an all-absorbing and demanding job that it’s very easy to completely bury yourself in your work, no matter what is going on with your personal life. I wanted to demonstrate how Chrissie could be at the top of her game during working hours but also be a bit of a wreck after hours. I also liked the idea of having her pushing to expose the truth about others but at the same time, she’s desperate to keep her own secrets hidden. I also wanted to create a constant tension in her private life as well as her work life.

NMB: The story has a gritty, realistic feel, with loads of local colour. Melbourne readers especially will enjoy the descriptions of the city's gardens, backstreets and markets. Did you make a conscious decision to stick to writing what you know?

KK: Actually, I’m not a native of Melbourne so I’m glad you get a real sense of the city. Possibly this is because I see everything with slightly fresher eyes. Sometimes I think we stop seeing what’s around us because we’ve seen it too often. But Melbourne is one of the most fascinating and beautiful cities in the world and I’m amazed by it almost daily. It has such a great creative heart which comes out in almost every part of the city; the huge range of architecture, the cultural traditions in each suburb, the landscape and gardens, the amazing markets, even the sounds, the rivers and the trams — it’s all very Melbourne. I’m lucky to live in the inner city, too, so I’m constantly finding new lanes and secret pockets, sometimes whole suburbs! But like all cities, it also has a dark underside, for example, I live near the North Richmond drug injecting room and I see first-hand, on a daily basis, the violence and poverty of addiction and I don’t shy away from that in the book.

NMB: The novel raises lots of important issues, especially about the role of the media and government trying to stop information getting out under the guise of anti-terror laws. How did your experience as a journalist inform how you tackled this subject?

KK: Media freedom is a huge topic and we are currently in the midst of a massive democracy battle that I fear has already been temporarily lost. I say temporarily because I still have hope that we can correct the damage and have the laws changed. Most governments around the world now have the power, the legislation, to shut down a story if they decide it is against the national interest. And this so-called “national interest” is basically in the hands of a few bureaucrats and whichever politicians happen to be in power at the time. Despite the media uproar at the time, unfortunately, I think these laws didn’t make an impact on most of the population because it was at a time when many people were very skeptical about media ethics and media honesty. It was the beginning of the boom in social media when anyone and everyone was self broadcasting of blogging or setting up internet news sites without the training and ethics of traditional journalists and media companies. And of course, “terrorism” was and still is used as a smokescreen for this ultimate power grab by the politicians.

NMB: What books are you enjoying reading at the moment?

KK: I’m sorry to say I don’t have much time to read for pleasure at the moment as I’m now working on my second novel. However, one recent book that has stayed with me, and little bits keep jumping out at me almost every day, is Archie Roach’s memoir, Tell Me Why. It’s utterly compelling and sad and generous and loving - such an important Australian story. The plot of my new book is also influenced by a different type of Australian story, my great grandfather who at age seven, yes seven, left his poverty-stricken home in Sydney to work for a traveling sheep shearing crew around Victoria. But, of course, the new book is set in present day Melbourne and has Chrissie O’Brian again navigating two worlds, this time investigating a story involving a Collins Street investment company, a wealthy landowner and a team of sheep shearers.

Where the Truth Lies, by Karina Kilmore. Simon and Schuster $29.99

North Melbourne Books: Australians eat roughly three times more meat than the global average. The main argument of On Eating Meat is that Australians should eat less meat, of a better quality that is also ethically produced. This would provide a win for the environment, animals and human health. Sounds easy, but there are many impediments to achieving this goal, mainly seductive cheap prices and a lack of information about how commercial meat production works. What are the most effective steps consumers can take to bring about the sort of change you advocate?

Matthew Evans: The nice thing about this change is that we are all (well, all meat eaters), empowered through our purchases. And because we eat three times a day, and have to eat, we’re all given this opportunity to make better decisions quite often. I think the first thing to recognise is that all meat isn’t equal, that all farming systems aren’t the same, and that every time you make a better decision you encourage better farming.

That’s true whatever you eat. Farmers only do things because we ask it of them. If we want better quality housing for pigs. If we want less antibiotic use. If we want animals to be able to express their instincts, then farmers will do that on our behalf, but it might have an in built cost. That cost can be offset by buying less meat, but better quality higher welfare meat. It might involve wasting less of what is produced. But ultimately, it’s small decisions by meat eaters that has the greatest potential to change the momentum in our farming systems.

For most of us, eating less meat won’t destroy our gastronomic and cultural well being, it could well be better for our bodies, and it is potentially a great thing for animals, the planet and the farmers who grow things in our name.

NMB: It was alarming to read how much secrecy there is around intensive animal farming. You tried to get access to these big farms but were frustrated at every step. So much secrecy makes you wonder what there is to hide. Isn’t there enough government regulation to ensure intensive farming operations are being run to community standards, or do we need more?

ME: Government regulation is about keeping industry running, and the day to day inspections and checks are governed by people who are part of a very small clique. What their standards are don’t necessarily match community standards. Most Australians would be appalled at how some of our animals are raised, how confined they are, how restrictive the conditions are in terms of normal, instinctual behaviour. Leaving it to the industry groups, who hold power in many settings relating to regulation, and the people who don’t necessarily share general community standards because they are steeped in the industry, is a recipe for disaster.

A good example is the sow stall, essentially a tiny pig cage that doesn’t allow the mother pig to turn around or walk, but only stand, eat, defecate, and lie. These are still used routinely in about 30% of Australian piggeries, and the mother pigs live in them virtually all their adult lives. You and I would see them as a cage, a jail. The industry sees them as a way to stop sows fighting.

Do they meet general community expectations? No, according to research, and according to one of our largest supermarkets, Coles, who insisted that all pork sold under the Coles brand was sow-stall free a few years ago. The industry resisted, but Coles knew their customers cared, so forced the change on the farms. There is no way this would’ve happened if the industry was left to decide it for themselves. Because of this change, based on small customers (you and I), and large customers (Coles), 70% of mother pigs in Australia are now more able to express social behaviour and at least move in more ways than just standing and lying down.

NMB: Your book has a wealth of fascinating research that will amaze and shock eaters of all persuasions – carnivore, vegetarian and vegan. As a consequence, the book also raises a lot of ethical questions, giving On Eating Meat a philosophical aspect. Did you change your mind about anything during the writing process, or learn anything that came as a complete surprise?

ME: I think the biggest surprise came in the complexity of farming systems, and discovering the research which points to animals being part of a good farming system in some cases, and able to produce more variety, more nutrient dense food, in the broader picture. I guess it makes sense that an ecosystem, which a good farm should be, is reliant on animals as well as plants, and that to exclude animals is arbitrary and goes against ecological principles. But to see it on our farm, and in the research that is now emerging, made more sense of our historic and cultural attachment to using animals for food.

All farming land isn’t the same, and while we’ve ignored basic principles in much of the way we grow food (both plant and animal based) in recent history, the future is not necessarily meat free. But it has to include a  much cleverer use of land and fossil fuels than we currently practice. The other thing that really surprised me along these lines is that 70% of the world’s food is produced by smallholders, small farms, (and much of this by women). We tend in Australia to think of big monoculture farms as the norm (partly through our geography and partly because so much of the media and talk around animal production is tainted by American stats), but the reality is small, multi-species farms are often the norm, feed much of the world, and can provide a blueprint for how we can feed a growing population nutrient rich food in the longer term.

NMB: It seems like you have a love-hate relationship with vegans, as they are both praised and criticised in your writing. In essence, you’d like to work with the vegan community to bring about better animal welfare standards. Are you confident the book will open out the debate a bit more on this front?

ME: Not really love/hate relationship, but yes, I do bring up some criticisms of some vegans. I also praise and criticise farmers. I think some vegan principles are great, but I don’t see militant veganism as helpful. It’s a belief system, just as some paleo people have strident belief systems, and as do Buddhists and Christians and Hindus. But trying to force your belief systems on someone else is doomed to failure. Some activism is helpful in motivating those already converted, but it’s a proven strategy that attack, threats, and anger don’t change minds.

The problem isn’t that some people don’t want to eat meat, and some people want you to eat a whole lot of meat, it’s about those at the radical ends imposing beliefs on others. We don’t force people to ride electric bikes (probably a lot better for the environment than a car). We wouldn’t put up with people lying on the street in Melbourne stopping traffic to condemn all those that don’t use wood that is Forest Stewardship Council approved. It wouldn’t be okay for 2% of the population to insist that we all home school our kids because moving kids around in buses and cars lead to wallaby deaths and greenhouse gas emissions. It isn’t appropriate for me to write death threats and abusive emails to people who eat processed food no matter how much I think it’s an abomination, and I don’t think that people who practice anti-social behaviour in the name of veganism should be let off the hook either.

Meat eating is a small impact in terms of all human impact on the world, and if you want to have no impact on animals and the environment, the only way is to not exist. We have to recognise that everything we do has an impact, and that we all have different priorities, based on our income, our geography, our ancestry, our history. We can all make our own choices around ethics, based on our own belief systems, but being preachy about someone else’s meat eating while you’re wearing non-organic cotton, or have bought cherries where the nets kill thousands of birds each year, smacks of the hypocrisy that those very people rail against.

The great news is that most vegans, like most of the rest of us, don’t define themselves by their diet or one aspect of their belief system. Most vegans define themselves as humans, who would like to see us do better for the animals in our care. And so it’s easy to work with people willing to have grown up conversations about the best way forward, about lives won and lost, and the best way to build communities, societies, nations, while not buggering up the world in the process.

NMB: What books are you enjoying at the moment?

ME: The Hidden Life of Trees by Peter Wohlleben, a brilliant look at what we do, and don’t, know about plants. Like how they talk to each other. How they emit sound. How they tend to sick neighbours. How they have memory despite no recognisable central nervous system. It’s a good way to start to understand what we don’t understand about forests and the environment we so readily take for granted. A more esoteric read is Thus Spoke the Plants by Sydney based researcher Monica Gagliano, which explores some similar themes in a more personal, mind altering way (and yes, while Monica is a scientist by trade, she does take a few mind altering things along the way).

Rusted Off, by Gabrielle Chan, about how the bush feels alienated from the city, and from the political cycle. Written by a journalist who moved from the city a long time ago, she has insights into the widening gulf between the bush and the suburbs, and what that means for all of us.

The Shepherd’s Hut by Tim Winton. Well, I’m excited about it in anticipation! I'm just about to launch into this one. I reckon Tim captures the landscape of WA beautifully, and he paints characters so well that there’s hardly a book of his that hasn’t left me really moved. He captures our flaws, our hopes, our strange alliances so well, and does it with a good Aussie voice, which is all too rare.

On Eating Meat: The Truth About Its Production and the Ethics of Eating It, by Matthew Evans. Murdoch Books. $32.99