{"id":91,"date":"2012-01-27T15:47:09","date_gmt":"2012-01-27T04:47:09","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/misrule.com.au\/wordpress\/?page_id=91"},"modified":"2012-01-27T21:54:30","modified_gmt":"2012-01-27T10:54:30","slug":"david-almond-interview","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"http:\/\/misrule.com.au\/wordpress\/interviews\/david-almond-interview\/","title":{"rendered":"David Almond Interview"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>I conducted this interview with David Almond<\/a> in May 2003, after I heard him speak at the Reading Matters<\/a> conference at the Australian Centre for Youth Literature<\/a> at the State Library of Victoria<\/a>. I hope this transcript captures the conversational tone of the interview, which was for me, both fun and informative. I realise that some of the discussion rises straight from David’s presentation at Reading Matters, but I hope that readers familiar with his novels will make sense of the conversation and benefit from his insights into his writing process.
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I was really interested when you talked about Skellig<\/em> arising as a gift, and then you went on to say that you didn\u2019t know what Michael was going to find in the shed and you didn\u2019t know that Mina was going to appear. I was fascinated then to find out what part of the story came to you before you discovered all those other elements that were going to be in it that are so critical to it.<\/strong><\/p>\n

I suppose it came with\u2026 I think the reason why it just went so well, because it was a book that just went fantastically, was because all those initial elements came at the beginning. So I had Michael\u2019s voice and I had the moving to a new house, I had the family, I had the baby coming, I had the garage, and the garage really was the thing that Michael had to go in to explore it, so it gave me this opening that Michael was exploring. He didn\u2019t know what he\u2019d found so it was like I could go along with Michael. And then when Michael had gone in(to the shed) a couple of times, up pops Mina. She was like the other element as well. She was an element that gave a lot of discipline to the whole thing, because Mina\u2019s always telling people you must do this, you must do that. So Mina for me was the sort of (heart) of the story really.<\/p>\n

In some ways she helps propel the action, she makes Michael act at times when he\u2019s not otherwise going to.<\/strong><\/p>\n

That\u2019s right. I think without Mina the whole thing could have collapsed into nothing and become very slushy or too long. But Mina had a kind of strictness about her which helped everybody inside the story. It certainly helped me. So in a sense I suppose I felt I was almost a character in the story as well, I was in there with them.<\/p>\n

Has that discovery of elements and characters that you didn\u2019t initially plan or know were going to be there, has that happened in all of the books? There seems to be a sense that as you read (your books) that things unfold. I wonder if that\u2019s how the writing process works (for you).<\/strong><\/p>\n

It is really. I hope that I write in such a way that I allow myself to discover things as I\u2019m writing. So often I\u2019ll get into a story and I think, oh, so that\u2019s what it\u2019s about and I have to throw away everything. that went before and then make this new track, follow this new track. And I always wait for the moment when the story does take on its own life and it begins to give me something instead of me having to control everything. In Kit\u2019s Wilderness <\/em>the major moment for me as the writer was when Burning Bush, the teacher, says to the kids \u201cNow you\u2019re going to write a story about an ice boy\u201d and the first sentence is His name was Lak<\/em>. That really came almost out of the blue and when I wrote that I thought, oh no, I\u2019ve got to write that story as well.<\/p>\n

Like that \u201cOh, no, he\u2019s an angel!\u201d moment in Skellig<\/em>.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Yes. And then again I thought, \u201cRight!\u201d But because it was given to the class it really was like, when I came to those bits of the story, to Lak\u2019s story, it really was like, \u201cOh, Kit can write this\u201d. So it was like there’s another character in my head, Kit Watson, who was writing that part of the story. The Lak story just flowed in the same way that Mina\u2019s story flowed, as Skellig did. So yes, I do tend to write in that way, it\u2019s like putting together lots of elements, kind of assembling them in a way I suppose, like making spells. I think children do this, don\u2019t they; they put objects together and pull things in, almost like witchery. I think I use words in that way, put them together and some kind of spell emerges from them.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve heard you refer to spells and chants. Ritual in language as well as ritual as act seems to appear quite often in your work. <\/strong><\/p>\n

It does and that\u2019s something that I haven\u2019t deliberately pursued, but once I found it was happening I was very happy with it. It felt like a natural way to write about the things I want to write about.<\/p>\n

Well, kids have rituals and all of the playground chants and so on are part of that.<\/strong><\/p>\n

That\u2019s right and I love all that. The game in Kit\u2019s Wilderness<\/em> <\/strong>is a kind of ritual\u2026<\/p>\n

You said you\u2019d actually seen kids\u2026 was it at the school you taught at?<\/strong><\/p>\n

No, it was the school, I was a kid, I was maybe five or six, and I remember the big boys played this game on the grass outside the school, and there were lots of rumours about it. Of course when you\u2019re five or six that\u2019s terrifying. I remember being absolutely terrified. And looking across to see them playing this game on the grass one afternoon, I was scared stiff, and then when I sat down to write Kit\u2019s Wilderness<\/em>, the memory of it just kept coming back, so the ritual was something I could construct the book around.<\/p>\n

I really love how when you bring in those quite mysterious moments, as in Kit\u2019s first death in the game\u2014you\u2019re a very different writer from Diana Wynne Jones, but you remind me of her in the way you don\u2019t feel obliged to explain everything. That\u2019s the thing that I really admire about her work, but it\u2019s also something that she\u2019s been criticised for by adults who say to her, \u201cYour books are too difficult for children.\u201d Have you had that kind of reaction?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Occasionally people have tried to float that. But if people say that to me I really take no notice, and I think, well how absurd. If it\u2019s too difficult then they wouldn\u2019t read it. And as a writer your job is simply to give everything you can to each book. There\u2019s loads of stuff in the books that people don\u2019t see and I don\u2019t expect them to see, because they\u2019re very personal to me. But the books can only work if I commit everything. If I held back, said I can\u2019t put that in because it\u2019s too complicated, you know you can\u2019t kill the book off, so you have write unfettered. And the thing that holds you, the thing that disciplines you is the language, is the story. You put everything that you can into that story. And it has loads of things that people will see and loads of things that people won\u2019t see\u2026<\/p>\n

And things that they\u2019ll see that you won\u2019t see\u2026<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u2026that I don\u2019t see. I\u2019ve found out things about my books from sitting in front of kids, “have you got any questions?”, and a boy or a girl will ask me a question, and I\u2019ll think, That\u2019s why I did that!<\/p>\n

Can you think of any examples of that?<\/strong><\/p>\n

There was one boy put his hand up one day\u2014it was just after Kit<\/em> had been released, there were just the two books, Skellig<\/em> and Kit\u2019s Wilderness<\/em>, and he said Mina\u2019s got a cat, and Askew\u2019s got a dog. He said, so there\u2019s some relationship between Mina and Askew and the cat and the dog, you know, the relationship that children and animals have, familiars\u2026<\/p>\n

Had he read Philip Pullman?<\/strong><\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know, he may well have. It started to come to me, yes there is a kind of relationship between Mina and John Askew that the boy had seen that I hadn\u2019t seen.<\/p>\n

I suppose they play a similar function in terms of the structure and the plot. Of course, they\u2019re very different characters.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Yes. Of course, a lot of this is stuff that adults say kids won\u2019t get. If you write books that seem quite complicated, a lot of adults say, well we\u2019ll get those bits and the kids\u2019ll get the nice story. It\u2019s a very kind of patronising attitude towards kids. A kid one day put up his hand and said, \u201cAfter Skellig goes away, Doctor MacNabola is never there either. We go back to the hospital and Dr MacNabola isn\u2019t there.\u201d And I said, yes that\u2019s right. So he said, \u201cPossibly, Dr MacNabola was like an element of Skellig, of Skelligness.\u201d<\/p>\n

That\u2019s a very sophisticated response.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Yes. And I looked through the book again, and I thought, well! It could well be there. Another thing that struck me the other day, and again it was about Kit\u2019s Wilderness<\/em>, a few times a boy or girl has said, \u201cWhen they\u2019re doing the death game, they really die, don\u2019t they?\u201d and I\u2019ve always said, \u201cNo, they don\u2019t, it\u2019s just a game, they\u2019re kids, it\u2019s just a game of pretend\u201d. And then I was in a school in Brisbane the other day and I read them the first chapter, which is about them coming back out into the light again, and I was reading it and I thought, My God! They could have died, maybe they did die, and the whole thing is a post-death experience. So children do all this wonderful, sophisticated re-imagining of the book, which as a writer\u2014what more can you ask for?<\/p>\n

Again, Diana Wynne Jones says she prefers writing for children because when she writes for adults she has to keep stopping and explaining things. She never feels obliged to do that for children. Perhaps there\u2019s a sense of trust that children still have that the author will take them wherever they\u2019re meant to go, and things will become clear or not as the story requires.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Yes. Kids don\u2019t have this need to know everything. As adults we think, if I don\u2019t know something I\u2019ve got to make sure that I do know it. But kids live in this sort of area where they know that they don\u2019t know everything, so that\u2019s there sort of natural way of being.<\/p>\n

You wrote for many years before Skellig<\/em> was published, primarily I take it for an adult audience, however one makes those distinctions. Did that other writing have in common with the books you\u2019ve since had published for a young audience\u2014I won\u2019t even say blend\u2014that recognition of the mysterious and the fantastic in the every day?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Some if it did, yes, but I hadn\u2019t really found a way to manage it. I wrote a long novel that was based on the boundaries between what we know and what we don\u2019t know, between the real and imagined. Then I half-wrote another novel that was exploring quite obviously religious themes, and bringing it up today, and using a character like the character in my new novel The Fire-Eaters<\/em>, someone who bangs up against the edge of the world of dreams and something else. But it had never settled, and there was something about writing for children that let me find a form to write what I wanted to write about in a way I wanted to write, and also to write fluently. I write much more fluently than I did when I was writing short stories. I used to write short stories and as is natural to short stories everything sort of shrank. I made things very small and neat. But when I began to write for children\u2014this obvious thing as a writer, what do you do? You tell stories, so the storytelling thing really sort of released all this and gave me a sort of manner that I could write through.<\/p>\n

Are you a people observer?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Not really, no, not in the sense that I\u2019m looking out for quirks, but I must pick things up I suppose. A lot of it comes from voices, but sometimes the most profound affect can be had from someone you just glimpse out of the corner of your eye, it can be the tiniest thing. Like in the new novel, the fire-eater himself comes from a guy I saw when I was a child on the quayside in Newcastle. So it comes from all over the place. But I\u2019m not a writer who sits and observes. When I\u2019ve said to people I\u2019m writing a novel for children, a few people have said, \u201cAh! So have you researched what young people are like today? Have you listened to them? Have you watched them?\u201d \u201cNo!\u201d<\/p>\n

Going back to my first question again\u2014When I read Skellig<\/em>, I don\u2019t know if I consciously thought about this, but I would have imagined that what you \u201creceived\u201d was that image of Skellig, that incredibly strong visual image of that creature, angel, man in the shed. If I\u2019d written that book, that would have been my starting point. So I was astonished to find that you didn\u2019t know he was going to be there. So is it voice? Is it character?<\/strong><\/p>\n

With Skellig<\/em> I think it was the voice. It was like somebody saying, \u201cI found him in the garage\u201d. I think instead of having an image of Skellig as he was when he was found, it\u2019s like… I think when I\u2019m writing I look for a tiny chink, an opening into something, and that little bit of Michael saying \u201cI found him in the garage\u201d was the chink to move through. So I think it often comes like that. Sometimes it comes from\u2014with Secret Heart<\/em> it was the tiger, so that was visual. In the first chapter of Secret Heart<\/em> you look at the window and you see the ridge of the tent, and that came as a really powerful image, of a tent across the drab rooftops of an estate in England.<\/p>\n

Helmouth.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Helmouth! Helmouth comes from, in mediaeval mystery plays, which used to go touring around in cities in England, and set up a stage, and very often at the edge of the stage there\u2019d be a hell mouth, (and) the bad characters would jump into it. So that came from that.<\/p>\n

\u00a0(A brief discussion of Buffy the Vampire Slayer <\/em>and the Hellmouth ensued!)<\/strong><\/p>\n

That\u2019s one of the things that impresses me. In Secret Heart<\/em> I think the circus features largely because it has this mediaeval (feel) and I\u2019m interested in that, in things that are still extant now but have got their roots way back and we\u2019re trying to civilise them. We\u2019re trying to civilise the circus.<\/p>\n

I remember somebody asking you about that at Reading Matters.<\/strong><\/p>\n

If you just say the word \u201ccircus\u201d to some people in England\u2014\u201cCircus, it\u2019s a terrible thing.\u201d And I agree with them, but\u2014<\/p>\n

There\u2019s an almost surreal resonance about circuses, and the fascination with that life, what it must be like.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Yes, yes.<\/p>\n

I think I agree, it is a shame to have lost that\u2014I suppose in a way it\u2019s a direct inheritance of the travelling players isn\u2019t it.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Yes, it is.<\/p>\n

So talking of myth and what we inherit from our forbears in story and all the rest, are you conscious\u2014there\u2019s a sense of a greater myth underlying a lot of what you do. Are you conscious of that? Or is it just your world view?<\/strong><\/p>\n

It\u2019s my world view when I write. When I began to write these books, I just found myself in a different place. I found myself in a place where there was this mythology still going on. Karen (Brooks)<\/a> was talking about myth the other day at the (Reading Matters) conference\u2014it\u2019s like (we hear) these stories and we know them already. I remember when Freya, my daughter, began to hear fairy tales for the first time it was like she (already) knew them. I remember reading “Hansel and Gretel” to her a couple of times and the second time around she said \u201cYou\u2019ve missed out a bit Dad\u201d. It was the bit I\u2019d missed out that was the scariest thing, when the witch is going to eat them up. It was like she knew the story. She loves the Greek myths and it\u2019s almost like they\u2019re part of us. And when I began to write these books I found myself in that area where it\u2019s almost part of them. So the words are a way of getting into that realm, my sort of modern language and modern world view is drawn into that.<\/p>\n

This is going off on a slightly different tack but it\u2019s still very much about language. Hearing you read aloud in your accent, and having a brother-in-law from the same part of England, was a total revelation to me. I\u2019d read the books but hearing them read aloud \u2014 I can\u2019t quite explain it, but it was like really<\/em> hearing them. And then somebody very shortly after that asked you a question about being a regional writer and I\u2019d read the books and wasn\u2019t consciously thinking of them being set in Newcastle, but then I heard you read them and got a whole other layer of response to it. So I suppose I\u2019m interested in that sense of where you\u2019re from and \u2026<\/strong><\/p>\n

It\u2019s been great for me after Skellig<\/em>. I spent ages trying to get agents and publishers and I think one thing that worked against me was that I lived in the north (of England) and wrote in the north and writing a lot of the time about northern themes. But it\u2019s a great liberation to me to be able to do that. When people say \u201cOh, David Almond, yes he writes in that kind of voice about that part of the world\u201d, and it\u2019s really kind of undiscovered territory in literary terms. So a lot of the way I write is drawn from the way people talk, it comes from an in some ways non-literary tradition. So I\u2019m really interested in that\u2014the voice, use of language, storytelling, chants, ballads. And yet, it comes from where I live, where I was born. It\u2019s not apparently sophisticated in the way that a lot of English lit is apparently sophisticated, but there are some things I detest about English literary sophistication because I think it becomes inwards and inbred. I think a lot of writers like to be on the fringes of literature and I really feel as if I\u2019m on the fringes of mainstream English culture and I\u2019m picking up something that\u2019s very old and hopefully helping to make something that\u2019s very new.<\/p>\n

Do you think that your northern voice is more evident to English readers?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Oh absolutely. Certainly when I talk, of course, but even in the books themselves I think it is. When I go on tour in some parts, I get into groups of people, and I can tell you some people who\u2019ve wanted to meet me, and they meet me and they say, well, you\u2019re not supposed to be the person I\u2019m meeting, because you talk like that (laughs).<\/p>\n

From my experience, and it was a very brief time I spent in Newcastle, I was there for a day two years ago, but even in those few short hours I couldn\u2019t believe how much the city has changed over the years (since my first visit).<\/strong><\/p>\n

Oh yeah.<\/p>\n

It was ’88 that I there staying with my sister and her husband. I know that the north and Newcastle is looked on as industrial and grubby, but walking around Ryton-on-Tyne (a village outside of Newcastle)\u2014and maybe it\u2019s just my romantic nature, but I had a very strong sense of its history and there being something very\u2014I\u2019m using the word resonant again. I can remember walking around the church there, the Anglican church, and there\u2019s the ancient burial mound there in the church grounds and the village cross, and I was walking out, just a country road out of the town and I got this really strong sense that if I kept walking I\u2019d come across someone from a past time! It\u2019s really kind of silly, but there was a very strong atmosphere that had nothing to do with the reputation of the north as just being working class, industrial, unpleasant, ugly, uncultured.<\/strong><\/p>\n

If you go to Newcastle now it\u2019s just incredible. It\u2019s probably about to be the European city of culture. It\u2019s filled with these beautiful buildings\u2014Newcastle\u2019s always been a great city but it\u2019s becoming to be recognised more now, so kids look to go to Newcastle University, it\u2019s one of the most popular choices. But there is still in English life this downward looking view of the north. It\u2019s been interesting coming to Australia, and going to America, saying to the audience \u201cWho\u2019s been to Newcastle?\u2019 Certainly in Australia every time I\u2019ve asked, there\u2019s been someone who knows Newcastle. But if I go into Surrey\u2014how many people have been to Newcastle\u2026?<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve read recently that there\u2019s concern that young people from regional England are losing their regional voice. They\u2019re losing their accent, they\u2019re losing their dialect, they\u2019re talking like East Enders<\/em>, they\u2019re talking like the prevalence of London English on television.<\/strong><\/p>\n

It\u2019s true and in some ways it\u2019s inevitable, with TV and travel. When I was a kid, nobody really travelled (unless it was for an execution!). Now it\u2019s very common, so it\u2019s bound to happen. But I\u2019m concerned\u2014for me, as a writer, on the one hand I\u2019m trying to maintain something and say \u201cthis is what it was like, this is the language\u201d, but also it may well be lost, and there\u2019s nothing you can do, but as a writer you have to draw on the things that matter to you. So it\u2019s great for me to be able to use bits of dialect. It doesn\u2019t matter if nobody knows what it means.<\/p>\n

Did you teach primary or secondary?<\/strong><\/p>\n

I started teaching primary, then I taught adults, then I gave up, then I went back teaching special needs, which was like the main part of my career. I taught special needs, and then for the past eight years my teaching was part time, part time teaching kids with special needs, and that was great, because I worked three days a week, so I had this money to pay the bills, I had time\u2026 It was very interesting to work with kids who found it difficult to articulate\u2026<\/p>\n

Like Joe (Maloney, in Secret Heart<\/em>).<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u2026like Joe, like Joe Maloney. And I think I felt as if I could do it because the kids I was working with, it was like every time you set out to write a book, it\u2019s like you\u2019re learning language again, each new book\u2019s new challenge. So the kids were going through the same process as I was, so it was far more interesting working with them than teaching literature. I never went and taught literature in a secondary school.<\/p>\n

You made the observation at Reading Matters that the importance of the imagination is denied to children. Would you expand on that?<\/strong><\/p>\n

I think it possibly always is. It\u2019s just a feature of children trying to fit into a grown-up society. But in England\u2014and in talking to people here it seems like there\u2019s much the same attitude here towards the way children learn and what they\u2019re allowed to do with their own language\u2014in England everything is seen as a task in school. It\u2019s a task that has to be completed and there has to be a positive outcome\u2014tasks, outcomes, tasks, outcomes\u2014even for things that have to do with the imagination like writing stories or drawing pictures or whatever. And I mean great teachers, and there are so many, and somehow they manage to work with kids\u2026 but also the political masters don\u2019t really want that. When I won the Carnegie <\/a>I made a speech in which I dared to use the words \u201ccreativity\u201d and \u201cimagination\u201d and it was just amazing, the response. The next day I was attacked on page one of one of the papers by the education secretary; the week later there was an article by the chief inspector of schools, naming me; \u201cPeople like Almond want to return to a free for all, anything goes attitude to children which did so much to ruin a whole generation.\u201d It\u2019s this fear, I think it\u2019s an English fear of chaos. If you take away the chains, if you take away the targets and the tests and the scores, you\u2019d just be left with chaotic kids. Also what I found in Government statements was, I was asked on the radio one morning, \u201cSo, why don\u2019t you believe in grammar?\u201d Of course kids need to know grammar, we know this. And his response was, \u201cKids need to learn grammar so they can function properly in this society and get better jobs.\u201d Why do we have language? We don\u2019t have language so we can get a job, we have language so we can think, so we can be full human beings.<\/p>\n

I was really astonished to hear that you got such a public response from people like that.<\/strong><\/p>\n

It\u2019s incredible. It was obviously a very raw nerve.<\/p>\n

Did you get much feedback then after they\u2019d come out and made those comments?<\/strong><\/p>\n

From teachers, yeah, I still do, and what, it\u2019s five years now? And there\u2019s a whole army of teachers who think I\u2019m wonderful because of what I said in that speech. I was invited to speak to the people on the national literacy strategy, which I was amazed by, because it\u2019s a government thing, and the guy who invited me to do it said I was invited because I made the speech. I think it\u2019s not something that\u2019s just about now, it\u2019s always the case when society wants to\u2014that sounds very Wordsworthian, doesn\u2019t it\u2014wants to pull us down, our possibilities in order that society can function as an economic unit. And it\u2019s for other people to say no, we\u2019re more than this. And also, maybe now, I think the kind of economic strictures enforced on children are very scary, like credit cards, student debt. Students leave University in England with debts of 10,000, 12,000 pounds.<\/p>\n

We were talking about voice before. Heaven Eyes voice is so different from\u2014and it stands out in that book but also in the whole range of your work. Where\u2019d she come from?<\/strong><\/p>\n

I had to invent a language that she would be able to speak, that I wanted to be light and sweet, but also that it was a voice that was untutored. All the influence she really had was Grandpa. I tried various times to get it right, and I just couldn\u2019t get it, and I kept trimming it and trimming it and trimming it\u2026 I think it comes from\u2014early song. I really like early song, pre-Tudor times in England, and there\u2019s a kind of sweetness and lightness about early music which I am very fond of. So I think it came from that, from the very early poets and ballads. I think, but I don\u2019t know.<\/p>\n

Do you re-draft a lot?<\/strong><\/p>\n

Oh, constantly.<\/p>\n

And do you over-write and cut back, or\u2026?<\/strong><\/p>\n

I do sometimes. But when I\u2019m doing well it usually comes out in a kind of form that it emerges as, it finishes as, but with loads and loads of constant re-drafting as I go along. I don\u2019t write and then re-write, I re-draft, re-draft, re-draft all the time. I usually spend the most time on the first third of the book and throw it away, throw it away, throw it away, and then find the proper form for it and then it works.<\/p>\n

You recently threw away an entire book that you\u2019d spent a couple of years on.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Yeah, called The Apprentice<\/em>. That was just going up the creek, going nowhere and I just woke up one morning and hated it. The pay off was that in its place came this new book, The Fire-Eaters<\/em>, out of nowhere really. It just kind of burst into life, it was great, a lovely book to write. And the other one kind of led me to it, so it wasn\u2019t a waste of time.<\/p>\n

Well, it\u2019s all process isn\u2019t it. You were saying, again at Reading Matters, that you started writing these books when you were nine. <\/strong><\/p>\n

So it\u2019s been a long time!<\/p>\n

And they\u2019re on that shelf in your local library!<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I conducted this interview with David Almond in May 2003, after I heard him speak at the Reading Matters conference at the Australian Centre for Youth Literature at the State Library of Victoria. I hope this transcript captures the conversational … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":7,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","template":"sidebar-page.php","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-91","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/misrule.com.au\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/91","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/misrule.com.au\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/misrule.com.au\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/misrule.com.au\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/misrule.com.au\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=91"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"http:\/\/misrule.com.au\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/91\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1230,"href":"http:\/\/misrule.com.au\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/91\/revisions\/1230"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/misrule.com.au\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/7"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/misrule.com.au\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=91"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}