Peter Temple's Puny Lunge At Immortality

A bygone post dated 12 March 2008 about the death of my university lecturer

My dorm room at Mitchell College (image retouched for Lost in Shanghai)

Life as I knew it took a vibrant twist when I left Hong Kong and became a communications student at Mitchell College (now Charles Sturt University) in the 1980's. The regional city of Bathurst was a lo-ong way from Hong Kong. At first I kept the curtains in my room firmly shut, because the wide-open field outside my dormitory window was just too confronting. Within a few weeks however, I had friends and that made all the difference to the naive girl from Hong Kong.

Without a doubt, the most terrifying person at our college was the writing lecturer Peter Temple.

He looked at you from behind his glasses as if he were peering out of a window. He never seemed to focus on your eyes. He had a soft South African accent and a laugh that was more like a horse’s whinny. Admirable yet fearsome, he was by far the toughest of our lecturers.

Peter Temple used to leave our corrected assignments outside his office. The door was always closed. One day, I arrived to see a student named Tim pick up his assignment from the pile on the floor. He searched for the mark on the back page of the assignment and then began to shout abuse and kick Peter's door.

"You bastard!" Tim cried as his foot pounded the wood, echoing down the hallway. Clearly, his assignment had failed to impress our writing lecturer.

Suddenly, the door opened. I don't know why, but it had never occurred to me that when Peter's door was closed, he was actually in his room.

Tim was taken aback too. He was a tall young man, but Peter stepped forward, unafraid.

"Fuck off." Peter said, as if Tim was just an annoying mosquito.

And then the tutor retreated into his room, closing the door behind him.

Years after I left Mitchell College, I began to see Peter Temple's name in the headlines. He had become a crime writer, and a very good one. Many of his books were turned into TV series. I particularly enjoyed The Broken Shore. He was so economical with his descriptions (as he was with his students) and his stories kept you on the edge. Imagine having to suffer wretched students like me.

It's at this point I have to post some of the pertinent and hilarious comments he wrote on my key writing assignment (on my favourite subject: chocolate) at the end of my first year:

I didn't get a brilliant mark; 65% when 55% was a pass, if I remember correctly, but I passed and without that, I wouldn't have moved into Year 2 of my degree.

In 2014, I blogged about the infamous chocolate assignment after reminiscing with my first Mitchell College friend and now crime and romance author Jaye Ford.

A few days after the post, I received an email from Peter Temple. My first reaction was abject fear.

The subject heading was "chocolate box":

"Just when you thought you'd got over it, someone mentions that first assignment
I think about it every time I see you on the box - Warmest, Peter.”

I was gobsmacked. At the time, apart from presenting my interview show One Plus One, I had embarked on my second book China Baby Love, but wasn't sure I'd make it to the end.

This is how I replied.

"Great to hear from you Peter.
I’m still a struggling writer, but it’s becoming more important for me to write. I’m not sure why. Always grateful for the first 65%.
All the best, Jane"

And then he wrote this:

"Imagine being remembered only for your face or your voice?
Struggle on.
Writing is a puny lunge at immortality.
Nice word, puny. PT"

That was our one and only exchange after Mitchell College. I will treasure it. #ValePeterTemple.