What is the 'it'?

One of the many things I learnt from writing this book is that, once you submit the final manuscript to your publisher, things move very quickly. In this way, a six-year marathon suddenly became a short and very fast sprint.

It is for this reason, and only this reason, that the book doesn’t have an acknowledgements page: I didn’t feel that I had enough time to do it properly. Thus, I have been carrying around a certain amount of guilt for not having expressed public thanks to a number of people who deserve it.

So, here goes.

* * *

First, and most important, I owe a debt to my parents, who, unique amongst any of the people I knew as a child, had The Age home delivered. I would love to know what lay behind that decision: mum and dad didn’t get an education beyond grade eight, there were very few books in the house, and everyone around us read The Sun. However this came to be, The Age provided me with a window to the wider world, and gave me something to read other than the backs of cereal packets.

I also have to thank my Year 12 legal studies teacher, who, in the small window between when my results came out – which were considerably better than I had expected – and my course preferences had to be submitted, said, “You should do law/commerce at Melbourne University; it’s a licence to print money”. That sounded like a good kind of licence to have; and even though it turned out not to be the case, I would never have been in a position to write this book if I hadn’t taken his advice.

Next, I am forever indebted to the gentleman who ran the warehouse at Wrightbooks, where I worked for three months in 1998, who rang me the day after I finished there to see if I had seen a job of “proofreader” that had been advertised at the High Court in Canberra. (I hadn’t, because it was in the Murdoch papers, which have never been allowed into our house.)

It is important to acknowledge the (now former) Chief Justice of the High Court, Susan Kiefel. When I raised with her the possibility that I might have a go at writing a book describing what it is that I do all day, she gave me the particular look that only Chief Justices seem to be able to carry off and said, “I don’t think there is such a book; I think you should write it”. The Chief Justice saying to you that you should write a book is not the same as your mum saying to you that you should tidy your room. I suddenly and somewhat alarmingly found myself committed to a project I had only really raised as a vague idea – it was as if I had floated a trial balloon only to see it instantly transform itself into an albatross with my name on it. Over the ensuing six years, she would from time to time dutifully ask me how the book was going and I would dutifully respond that it was going well. I’m sure that she must at some point have started thinking to herself whatever is the judicial equivalent of “yeah, right”. So it was nice to be able to tell her one day that it was with the publisher.

Writing a book is not entirely a solo endeavour. I was given invaluable advice and encouragement from Michael Hanrahan (of Publish Central) and Inger Mewburn (aka The Thesis Whisperer). I was steered away from some of my less good impulses by three High Court associates, Shawn Rajanayagam, Daniel Farinha and Luca Moretti. (Luca imposed upon me a strict limit of two references to “The Castle”; this resulted in the book being considerably shorter than it would otherwise have been.) And Angela Kittikhoun was kind enough to offer to road-test a beta version of the book.

I am grateful to The Federation Press for taking a punt on what, in a field of niche publications, must have seemed like a very small niche within that niche.

It would be remiss of me not to thank all of the many High Court Justices and associates who inadvertently provided me with the raw material out of which the book was forged.

Last (but, as they say, not least – and I really, really mean that), I am eternally grateful to Adrienne, Carl and Julius for continuing to put up with me.