The Pros And Cons Of Being The Youngest Child (And How They Carry Into Adulthood)

#5 Pro: You Have Less Responsibility

You’re the baby and that means there’s an assumption placed on you that you can’t do anything but, better yet,  you don’t need to do anything! Your disappoints have no reverberation on your older siblings – it’s almost like they fully expect you to be reckless.

And granted, this has its ups. It means that when you’re young you can do what to want because no one expects you to be the wiser. You don’t have to chase around snotty-nosed younger brothers or sisters and stop them from doing wrong. Instead, you ARE that snotty-nosed younger brother or sister and you can ride that carefree attitude right into 1st grade!

Con: You Are Underestimated

The bad thing is, this role placed upon you doesn’t go away. And so your decision-making and general abilities are underestimated all the way into adolescence. Basically, your opinion doesn’t count because you haven’t had to work for it. You may be the wiser and most well adjusted but no one sees it like that. Your older siblings could very well be nutjobs but their vote will always count twice as much as yours and that’s just natural law.

Your family creates that role for you so what can you do but fit it!

#4 Pro: You Generally Don’t Give A _____

When you’re the youngest, failure is familiar to you. You’re older brothers and sisters have already been there, done that and basically see you as some kind of pariah that poses a threat to their delicately structured social scene. From being ‘the baby’ to the underachiever at school, there’s an unwritten but generally accepted label on your head that reads ‘uncool’. Your older siblings forever see you as somewhat of an enigma and, as a result of being constantly disappointed, you’re expectations take a rather rapid plummet. This sounds all rather damning, but I think this is a good thing, because by the time you’re a teen, you really couldn’t care less. Peer pressure is all of a sudden a thing of the past and all your previous concerns of ‘fitting in’ seem rather juvenile.

You learn early on that disappointments are a natural part of life and so when you get to school and are let down by your friends it doesn’t sting as much. If you don’t crumble under the pressure of expectation, you’ve grown a pretty impenetrable thick skin.

Con: You’re Less Aggressive and More Passive

On the flipside of that, you take things as they come – the good, the bad and the ugly – even if they are underserved. You can be more accepting of circumstance and less willing to stand up for yourself. All those years of being talked down to and put in your place can lead to a high tolerance. Arguments that you would otherwise fight for feel altogether pointless in the grand scheme of things. You’ve got nerve but it rarely presents itself.

While not a victim of peer pressure, there is a certain amount of resignation you take to authority even if you know they’re stupid (and more often than not, you’ll think they’re stupid). Hey, that boss of yours might be a dick but standing up to him isn’t in your rulebook.

#3 Pro: You Have the Best Sense of Humour / Are the Life of the Party

If you're the youngest, your parents are probably already confident in their caretaking abilities, and therefore are more lenient in their discipline. They don’t pay attention to your every move or milestone as they did with your older siblings and so you learn to charm the crowd through humour.

From witnessing the tears, tantrums (throwing some too) and living with sibling drama, you find funny in the absurd – the thrills, the spills, it’s all hilarious to you. More often than not, your older siblings take themselves way to seriously and it’s your job to knock them off their pedestals.

There’s no use trying to surpass their achievements and so you have to carve your own path. Generally your faults are on display for elders to see and so your best weapon to combat their judgments is by being sarcastic and sardonic.

Con: No One Takes You Seriously

This means you’re a clown and everything that comes out of your mouth will be taken with a grain of salt. After all, your family is a fountain of wisdom and can tell you what to do (Beware the patronizing hand on the shoulder).

You’re probably the best people-person but they don’t know that and so it’s kind to humour them.

#2 Pro: You’re the Most Creative and Observant

From being on the sideline all your life, you’re going to identify with the underdog. You’ve had years of spectating and learning and, usually, this has rewarded you in being a good judge of character - you can detect bullshit from a mile away.

You fight for the little guy and probably champion egalitarian causes because you’re the most creative. You want to inspire and, as a result of being teased, tend to back those who are perceived as “powerless”. While your elders are ambitious and follow family traction, you’re in the vein of following artistic pursuits.

Con: You’re Less Confident

When you’ve outgrown childhood, self-doubt creeps in the back of your mind because you’ve been living in the shadow of your siblings. Your decisions up until now have largely been influenced by their successes and failures and now you’re all alone and your confidence can take a beating.

To prove to yourself you have what it takes you’re inclined to go against the grain of what came before you. Throw yourself in the deep end and see if you come up breathing.

#1 Pro: You Don't Have to Babysit your Younger Siblings.

Con: You Have to Babysit your Nieces and Nephews.

Enough said.

And now for a flashback:

I recently found this image in an old shoebox of school stuff. It dates back to when I was in Grade 2 and my class was learning about dinosaurs. As you can see, I was a Picasso-in-the-making and tried to depict some sort of human-dinosaur hybrid.

The note reads:

I am a Sameosaurus. I am a friend to other dinasaurs. I watch TV all day. Some times I go out to have a drink at nightime. Some times I am late for school in the morning.

It would seem not much has changed.

Tracks Review

They call her the ‘Camel Lady’ who, in 1977, was crazy enough to travel half way across Australia’s barren desert on foot just for the hell of it, with four camels and a faithful dog as her only companions. The trek, which spanned 1700 miles from Alice Springs to the west coast on the edge of the Indian Ocean, was practically a death wish for 27-year-old Robyn Davidson who had little previous experience in the wild despite two years of training feral camels. With but a radio and no other means of luxury, Davidson’s desire for solitude was a desperate measure for self-exploration. Having grown restless from the apathy of her generation and wanting to extend the limits of expectation, whenever she was faced with the question of why, she would simply answer “why not?” Her astonishing true story was first documented in an article for National Geographic and later in autobiographical long-form, bestselling book, Tracks.

Over the years, efforts have been made to adapt Tracks for the big screen with both Julia Roberts and Nicole Kidman being attached to the lead role. But until now, Davidson has been rather ambivalent towards having her personal story immortalised on film. With director John Curran at the helm, continually reminding us of the true spirit of adventure, it’s not too presumptuous to say her wait has been rewarded. The film is led by a stirring yet gentle performance by Mia Wasikowska whose likeness to Davidson is uncanny. It’s largely a one-woman show and she exquisitely infuses her character with a commendable balance of determination and anti-socialness. It’s no secret that the real Davidson was reluctant to seek sponsorship for her journey and was less than thrilled by the occasional presence of American photographer Rick Smolan, which she saw as an insensitive intrusion. Smolan, here amusingly incarnated by Girls star Adam Driver, is an eternally talkative and upbeat presence who rendezvous with Davidson at scattered points in her journey to take snapshots of her in her ‘element’. Initially she is resentful of his ‘perfectly nice’ company, but slowly warms to him and together they engage in an ‘on again, off again’ romance.

Wasikowska captures the sharp edges of Davidson’s brusque personality with ease. She is somewhat brittle in her dismissal of others and is hesitant to commit to anything but the unforgiving landscape that lies before her. Though she does her best to avoid excess companionship, she acknowledges the need for guidance from Aboriginal Elder Mr. Eddy (Roly Mintuma) who helps her bypass sacred sites. He elicits respect and punctures through her standoffishness to bring out a warm, otherwise unseen, spirit. Some viewers may become impatient with the unchanging environment and lack of melodrama but Wasikowska’s strength is unyielding. The dreaded possibility of failure, of going back on ones tracks, is what drives her forward. Not much else is given as to her underlying motivations, but the film does offer fragmented glimpses into her past with fleeting memories of grief surrounding her home life.

In many ways, Tracks is comparable to Chris McCandless' famed odyssey as imagined in Sean Penn's 2007 film Into the Wild. Discovering oneself by means of exile is a theme that runs through both stories. In a desperate search for adulthood and independence, both young adults remove themselves from materialism and conformity to engage with nature. Take Emile Hirsch’s Chris McCandless who was richly drawn, strong-willed and kindly. His upper middle class background and academic success were understandable instigators of his strong contempt for a conceited society. On the other hand, Robyn Davidson’s character isn’t quite as realized; her impulses remain vague, she isn’t as sympathetic and her walk scarcely sustains a feature length. She is undoubtedly an enigmatic heroine but her motivations are difficult to invest in. Once the camels are herded and the trek gets going, the narrative sinks distantly into the desert plains.

Its third act feels stretched and, at a total running time of 110 minutes, the film could have benefited from a tighter edit. That’s not to say the journey is a bore, for there is a lot to admire about the Australian Outback. Its painterly red dunes and sandy remote lands are expertly photographed with a fine eye for composition. Cinematographer Mandy Walker has beautifully brought to life a visual dreamscape that takes on an almost spiritual aura. Filmed in the South Australian deserts and in the Northern Territory, he revels in the details of dust, cracked skin and harsh terrain. As glorious as it is to look at, the camera indulges over these beautiful landscapes sometimes at the expense of the story particularly in the sluggish final quarter. Despite being longwinded, Davidson’s story is an extraordinary, unprecedented feat worthy of being told.

These days, with the advances of modern technology, exploration of even the most isolated areas is no longer such a lonely prospect. An element of risk has been lost since it is very hard to disappear under the radar with your IPhone or GPS in hand. Today at the age of 63, the traveller and author feels incredibly blessed to have ‘got in’ before the world became so ‘pathologically safe’. In a recent conversation with Fenella Kernebone for Art After Hours at The Art Gallery of NSW, Davidson was once again faced with the inevitable question of why she went on the journey in the first place. She said: “I’ve been trying to answer that question for thirty years and really I don’t think it has an answer”. Her inability to define her experience in terms of a solely specific purpose is perhaps why her story lives on today. Intrigued viewers and readers look to her passage to inspire and reflect upon their own independence and thirst for adventure.

Curran’s account provides as much insight into the ‘Camel Lady’ as possible without succumbing to fantasy or the usual tricks of manipulation. Pacing and scripting issues aside, he has presented a neatly packaged triumph; a character study wrapped up in a road movie. Technically, Tracks is excellent. And Davidson’s quest is certainly inspired.  Whether the emotion and humanity the film so keenly hopes to elicit shines through, is not so certain. 

Anna Karenina: Why it’s a Classic

At approximately 1000 pages, Leo Tolstoy’s Russian romance classic Anna Karenina is a beast of a book that, at first glance, seems an insurmountable task. Was it not for the fact it predominantly tops every classics list ever collated, I may have never picked it up out of fear of intimidation. Perhaps pretentiously, it was Tolstoy’s widespread critical reception as one of the greatest writers of all time that drew me to his tragic masterpiece of an aristocratic married woman’s descent into hysteria after she enters into an affair and is scorned by Russian society.

As impressionable as my tastes may be, it was the writer’s rich and dynamic prose that kept me reading and drove me to Anna’s stunning conclusion: a visceral stream of consciousness charting fragile neuroticism to her perilous inevitable downfall. I’m speaking literally and figuratively here. Never underestimate a woman scorned.  Anna is a complex creation, neither heroine, nor anti-heroine, she possesses all the qualities of humanity, both the virtuous and the depraved. All Tolstoy’s characters are undeniably flawed yet empathetic, showcasing his masterful ability to neither idolise, nor vilify their unyielding existential quest for love. From the cultural ins and outs of late 19^th century aristocratic society to the peasant life of farmers, Tolstoy chronicles all facets of Russian day-to-day life in intimate human detail, which impressed even his most prestigious contemporaries. Literary neighbour and rival Fyodor Dostoyevsky declared Anna Karenina to be "flawless as a work of art". I’m inclined to agree with him for it is the most profound novel I have ever read. Not only is the story intoxicating, it also offers up big questions concerning human existence and contemplates the productive and destructive force of love in our lives.

The novel can be split into two main narratives: Anna Karenina’s spectacular struggle with the ethical and social consequences of committing adultery juxtaposed with Constantine Levin's search for purpose, whose trajectory towards a life of peace and contentment is the total opposite of Anna's slow personal decay. Tolstoy never judges his characters, instead letting their perspectives ethically and psychologically dominate the prose. He doesn’t explicitly condemn or praise Anna’s actions but subtlety sends a moral message: love that is purely carnal and impulsive only leads to tragedy. He acts as an omniscient, all-knowing third-person narrator who occasionally slips into the perspectives of several characters (all of which are richly drawn), even a dog for a couple of chapters. Their personal motivations and desires are portrayed brilliantly in all their contradictory, complex truth.

If Anna is the yin of the story, Levin must be the yang. He represents the voice of reason and spends the majority of his days scything grass and considering his purpose in the context of a wider universe. Levin’s a contemplative thinker, sometimes to his own detriment. After suffering a humiliating rejection from Princess Kitty, he succumbs to an angsty disposition and retreats to his country house to brood for a lengthy period. The problem with Levin is in his perpetual obsession for perfection, which he can never possibly attain. Like a latent adult growing into maturity, Levin’s introspective search for meaning and battle with spirituality reflects his coming of age. By the novel’s conclusion, Tolstoy reassures us it is enough to make ourselves the best that we can be without trying to control the world around us. This makes for one of the most moving passages in which Levin’s love for his family and faith in God is reaffirmed.

Anna Karenina is a bit like a soap opera in that it’s an exposition in love in all its many forms. The difference being it’s a damn good one that encompasses the full human spectrum of emotion. Like the entire classics catalogue, this is a book of its time, which means there are parts about Russian politics and society that don’t translate for a modern audience. (Call it a history lesson!) But Tolstoy’s meditations on hypocrisy, jealousy, faith, fidelity, family and marriage remain as powerful as they ever previously read. I never was one for self-help memoirs but something about this novel struck a chord in my spirit. Anna Karenina holds its characters up to readers like a reflective mirror; it’s almost impossible to judge their transgressions. If you can slog through pages of Levin scything grass and reflections upon agricultural reforms to sink your teeth into the more personal drama, perhaps you will learn something about yourself too.