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  1. Australharmony - A checklist of colonial era musical transcriptions of Australian Indigenous songs
  2. THEY CALL EACH OTHER BROTHER
  3. Marjorie Bowen
  4. Download An Irresistible Bachelor ebook {PDF} {EPUB}

As Hippolytus goes into exile, a condemned man, justice seems overturned, and the chorus of his fellow-hunters laments its perversion. This condensed and difficult phrase to be discussed more fully below may mean that the chorus believes in the gods' concern for men, even in the midst of men's changing fortunes.

Theseus' wish for the two voices in vv. But in the plot and stage action the issue is played out more concretely and emotionally in the physical area of Phaedra's body. Cover me. Madness is a woe. But concealment and death also recall her opening lines on the hiddenness of life's ultimate meaning vv. Phaedra's gestures and the Nurse's generalities begin to build up a view of truth as something wrapped in secrecy and hidden behind an obscuring surface. This pattern gradually establishes concealment or obscurity as the condition of human truth about life's meaning, about the individual heart, or about what words say.

This landscape of virginity, with ail its ambiguities, is a symbolic projection of his own self-image5. His place within it, both enacted and confirmed by his dedication, seems secure. His language too asserts a simplicity and clarity of be- longing. Phaedra's relation to divinities and ritual acts, by contrast, is obscure, mysterious, or misleading cf. Her opening commands to her servants, in contrast to the certainty of Hippolytus, are followed by expressions of physical and emotional dissolution and distress cf. He excludes shepherds and iron but allows the bee.

He refuses what is acquired by teaching but ac- cepts the gifts of innate nature. It is objective rather than subjective; but its inwardness is problematical. The goddess, whom he still cannot see though she sees. Confusion and Concealment In euripides' Hippolytus Hesiod, Theogony, For you destroyed rather than perished yourself. His combination of sunlight and starry night is a rhetorical figure. Despite his emphasis on purely aurai association in v.

Instead of cultic purity, she enters the impur- ity of death. Aphrodite, however, has both seen and heard ail too well. The love- goddess uses the power that she exercises through vision -the eroticized vision to which she subjects Phaedra vv. The force of eros that results in Phaedra's written tablets blurs the distinctions between seeing and hearing. That distinction is completely swept away by a later aurai product of this eros, the bull's roar from the sea.

This monstrous sound, emanating from celestial and chthonic spaces together vv. Throughout the play attempts at flight and purity embody aspirations. Phaedra's body, once famed for its beauty as v. Finally, as a bastard, Hippolytus faces an even more basic contradiction in his physical being. Phaedra's speech of vv.

In this way she reveals the power implicit in female sexuality and therefore the need for men to control it. Homer's Helen was the prototype, as Aeschylus fully recognizes see Agamemnon, vv. The dangers of this situation are already intimated on the microcosmic level of language in Phaedra's speech of vv. When Herodotus traces the Greek wars against barbarians to the love-affairs of women, he gives a lighter version of the same concerns, although his accounts of Gyges and later of the wife of Masistes are more serious exempla Herodotus, I, , IX, Iliad, IX, sqq.

Whereas the King's son competes only in athletics vv. This is the civic realm that the King's son rejects. In her concern for the civic context of her sons' future, she gives a new and unexpected turn to the dis- parity between surface and depth that focuses on the body, and specifically the female body. She compares time's revealing of base men to a mirror reflecting a young girl's features vv. Those among whom Phaedra would be seen are not the women to whom she com- pared herself in vv.

The latter is also the maie virtue claimed for Hippolytus in the father-son em- brace at the end vv. There is an analogous crossing over into. A woman's death by hanging, surrounded by lies and trickery vv. What Phaedra says of time's revealing base men in vv. Just as we seem to be emerging into the light of truth, Artemis' language pulls us back toward the concealment practised in the first part of the play. The injured body recalls Phaedra's concealed love- sickness in the first part of the play.

When she does eventually bring forth to men the hidden disease of her body vv. In a world where exterior and interior correspond, face-to-face meeting is a guarantee of honest and honorable behavior. In the Hippolytus the tragedy of both protagonists revolves about the loss of any such correspondence. That rupture of correspondence between speech and thought is just what destroys him vv. As the last pair indi- cates, however, the dichotomies are unstable, and the terms shift to opposite sides of the contrast.

Hippolytus is deceived about his self-righteous superior- ity to Phaedra, for vision appearances and speech will both prove to be on her side, fatally for him. Phaedra is deceived about Hippolytus, for, in a. This parallelism between the two protagonists also establishes a tragic continuity between the opposite ends of the spectrum of human aspirations Hippolytus yearns for a more than mortal association with a goddess by denying the eroticizing vision that cornes through the eyes v.

Phaedra, too much a prey to the power of vision, falls in love with Hippolytus. Totally subjected to the needs and weaknes- ses of her body, she rushes to meet her mortal end in Hades before her time cf. Both figures respond to a one-sided perception: words without sight for Hippolytus, sight without words for Phaedra. Both embody opposite but parallel forms of tragic ignorance. In the intricate weaving together of sexuality, the body, speech, and knowledge, Theseus' disorientation takes.

In his grief he will transform the brightness of day into a confusion of light and sunless darkness vv. He will, furthermore, make his own mouth a metaphorical gateway of doom for Hippolytus vv. The motif of difficult crossing recalls the ill-omened crossing of Phaedra's Cre- tan ship to Athens in the preceding ode vv. It also points ahead to the f ailure of Hippolytus , tangled in his reins, to pass through the darkness that will surround him on the Troezenian shore, far outside the palace. The careful description of Hippolytus' crash belongs to the outer world of his beloved horse-racing.

This Phaedra had longingly contemplated when she was fully bound to the interior, domestic space of her confined life and hidden desires vv. We may compare the similar account of racing, also ending in death, in Sopho- cles' EJectra Of particular focus have been the organisations and personalities behind this shift, who have seized advantage of the post-Global Financial Crisis moment to try and reshape the world in their own image.

Two new books bring these issues into the Australian context. Of the two books, Political Troglodytes is by far the more comprehensive specimen. Dominic Kelly has established himself as an important new voice in the Australian commentariat. Based on his PhD thesis, Political Troglodytes examines four different organisations that have reshaped conservative politics in Australia: the H.

For H. Nicholls, it was industrial relations; for the Samuel Griffith Society, constitutional issues. The Bennelong Society focused on Indigenous affairs. Bringing up the rear was the Lavoisier Group, with its pathological rejection of anthropogenic climate change. Linking all the groups were the vision and money of two men: Ray Evans and Hugh Morgan.

Key players in the Western Mining Corporation, Evans and Morgan — along with ideological partner John Stone — had the money and, most importantly, the time and patience to shift the debate on these key issues. The s were lean times for these organisations in Australia. While great. Indeed, it was Hawke who dismissed the members of H. Groups like H. Nicholls and the Bennelong Society awaited a political saviour, and one finally came in the form of John Howard and the Coalition government. Howard and his ministers most notably Peter Reith and former H.

Nicholls member Peter Costello moved quickly to halt and roll back the achievements of the Labor years. Australian Book Review is delighted to offer a range of joint subscriptions with other Australian literary journals. Aboriginal affairs and its sponsorship of revisionist historian Keith Windschuttle, fared better, as Howard set a tone resolutely against the progress made during the Keating years.

Dismissed even by those on the hard right as being a fringe group obsessed with conspiracy. As climate change accelerates and governments across the world flail in search of solutions, the muddying of the waters undertaken by groups like Lavoisier will have devastating long-term consequences.

Kelly, a critical but fair commentator, has interviewed a number of the major players involved in these organisations, including Ray Evans and John Stone. Political Troglodytes and Economic Lunatics is vital for anyone seeking a greater understanding of how we have reached this point in Australian politics. Some writers have an axe to grind.

Barns has a veritable cornucopia of axes and grindstones. At times the reader wonders if Rise of the Right is a genuine attempt at understanding the rise of conservative populism, or merely a prolonged exercise in score-settling. Barns was an adviser to the Liberal Party before jumping to the Australian Democrats in the early s, and later advising the WikiLeaks Party in their ill-fated campaign.

His disgust with the Liberal Party runs deep, making him sound less like an erudite observer and more. It is a shame, because Barns does make a number of good points. His analysis of the role the media has played, particularly in the resurgence of Pauline Hanson and the relentless attacks on commentator Yassmin Abdel-Magied, is excellent. Ignoring the welfare of the asylum seekers, it breached well-known, time-honoured law and convention … the importance of the Tampa incident in plotting the decline of liberal values is self-evident.

Australia had deliberately abandoned its obligations under international law.


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There are also a number of minor errors scattered throughout the book Margaret Thatcher was ousted from power in , not ; Robert Menzies retired as prime minister in , not , and so on and a few questionable assertions. But the second half of A Season on Earth moves beyond the repressive confines of Victoria in the early s to explore both the possibilities of a religious vocation — in Part Three, Sherd attends a junior seminary run by the Charleroi Fathers; and also, in Part Four, the imaginative potential of literature.

This reconstituted work certainly has more thematic coherence. A Season on Earth negotiates paradoxical spaces in between sacred and secular. There are, however, some oddities about the novel that make it less than totally satisfactory. Housman, and others. Adrian lurches from one scenario to another, failing to bring his life experiences into any kind of conceptual alignment, and indeed giving us the sense that any such alignment would be illusory. The wind that had been behind him in the morning was blowing into his face.

His stomach ached. This is not the greatest work in his oeuvre, but it is definitely worth having. His most recent book is Antipodean America: Australasia and the constitution of U. Most are found alive, fairly quickly, but an unlucky few will progress to the category of long-term missing persons. From the Beaumont children of the s to the more recent disappearance of toddler William Tyrrell, vanishing children have long troubled the Australian imagination. But the nightmare for their families is not one from which they can easily unsubscribe.

Denied confirmation of life or death, families are suspended in an immiscible admixture of grief and hope. She is never seen again. It was three days before her father heard the news and reported their daughter missing. By then it was too late: the police had little to go on and their investigation — hindered by all the limitations of a pre-internet age — is a road to nowhere. The title, in its most basic interpretation, points to Phillip Island off the coast of Melbourne where the Worth family — Helen, John, and daughters Junie and Anna — spent their summers before the split.

A more figurative reading of the title, however, sees the family shattered by tragedy into an archipelago of individuals, each bound by a discrete consciousness and unsharable experience. Bent on frustrating the narrative, Frew focalises successive chapters through alternating characters and deploys a miscellany of testimonial genres in the telling: diary entries, lists, gallery-wall texts, psychological transcripts, and mental cogitations collapsing syntax into poetry.

Such devices, well executed, offer the prospect of kaleidoscopic storytelling, but, in sacrificing intimacy to multiplicity, they can induce detachment and risk disorienting the reader through structural omissions, unresolved tangents, and a general lack of clarity. One thing, however, is abundantly. At least her family thinks so. Unrepentant, Helen comes in for such a heavy dose of slut shaming that by the end of the novel — despite a notably short list of attractive character traits — she becomes its most sympathetic character.

What is a family to do with memories of a missing child? Do they enshrine the child at the age of their disappearance? Or do they count birthdays — Anna would be forty if still alive today — in the hope that their loved one is somewhere on earth growing older? Giving up hope, I mean. Everything goes lacy, glossy, and steam comes up from the earth.

Soviet citizens are more sceptical. Shortages and privations remain daily facts of life, and long experience has taught them the value of promises made by those in power. Quickly, before the rules change yet again, Galina and her mother, Lidiya, apply to emigrate. But Lidiya dies, and Galina is left alone to make the decisions they would have made together. Shattered by grief, feeling punished even by the inclement Leningrad winter, Galina stumbles in the icy street. Andrew Morrow comes to her aid. Despite a punishing stutter and inherent shyness, Andrew manages to give her his Melbourne contact details; he is already smitten.

Their serendipitous encounter prompts Galina to trade America for Australia as her final destination. The iconic Grim Reaper advertisement, which appeared on billboards in , will provoke a significant confrontation later in Invented. Culture, and the clash of cultures, play a crucial role in the narrative of Invented Lives, as do love, transgression, and the paradox of a past both inaccessible and inescapable. The siblings Misha and Lidiya make another conflicted pair: he, a true believer enamoured of the party line; she, a member of the intelligentsia, questioning and unconvinced by Bolshevik propaganda.

Two years after meeting in Leningrad, long after Andrew has given up hope of ever seeing her again, Galina rings him. She is desperate for the familial connection that Andrew can provide. She sees the Morrows as typically middleclass: comfortable, well-educated, cultivated. Later, the reader will find out the extent of the cracks beneath the surface of their happy marriage. Leonard has put aside his youthful ambition to be a poet for the sake of a conventional and convenient family life. The arts are valued only as recreation, a distraction from the importance of material and commercial success.

Starvation kills. Torture kills. Natural disasters kill. Art never stopped any of this.

Australharmony - A checklist of colonial era musical transcriptions of Australian Indigenous songs

For the supporting cast of Kogans and Morrows, isolation comes in the form of secrets, compromises, and the lies that are told to ensure a tranquil existence. Goldsmith may not have realised such lofty aspirations with Invented Lives, but her version of the s speaks to a humanitarian ethos that transcends any particular period or culture and is certainly pertinent in the current political climate.

Yet she is not as well known in her own country as she should be, having spent decades in England. I hope The Happiness Glass will remedy that. This is a quietly powerful book; part memoir, part linked short stories. This makes for delicious reading, as the different forms expand, reflect, and hide each other. What a trajectory it is, singular and universal. Lefevre starts school in in hot, desolate Wilcannia. The family moves often, to Broken Hill, then high school in Mount Gambier, where Lefevre is forced into the typing stream, her dreams of learning Latin and French crushed.

Post-school: a lonely, romantic period in New Zealand, a stint as a barmaid in South Africa, and a job as a nanny in England. She settles into a happy marriage, but soon a harrowing battle with infertility begins. Six years later, the couple adopts a neglected eleven-month-old baby girl from Chile. The irresolvable pain of a family life unravelling. The different forms of exile: bodily, spiritually, and from place. But as it turned into a tightly argued, restrained piece, I realised I was in very capable hands. Next we are introduced to Lily Brennan, whose story illuminates many of the same threads.

Just one example: the memoir briefly drops in a phrase used by an unnamed drunken neighbour. The short story repeats the same phrase, this time in the mouth of the fictional neighbour, Dorrie Brickle. Both Dorrie and the narrator begin to take on a nuanced life. The Brickles will reappear twice, filling in their complex backstory. Part Two heralds new, darker themes. Lefevre compares her body to a car broken down on a busy highway: Half-a-dozen men lean in close with their bodies pressed against the paintwork, heads under the raised bonnet.

The female driver stands mutely to one side and, though outwardly calm … Trapped inside the useless, goodfor-nothing car, her helplessness is demoralising. In the Lily story, she is a loving nanny to three children. Their mother ignores them while having an affair. Lily, who is reading To the. Lighthouse, tries to write in the small breaks from her duties.

Then a lovely riff on the singer Dr G. Lily, the alter ego, is with her thirteenyear-old daughter on a trip to Australia, leaving her husband, Tom, behind. In this story the daughter is a normal rebellious teenager — no hint of what is to come. The small family returns to Chile, trying to ward off disintegration. The twinned story is chilling. On the last anxiety-filled day, the girl disappears at the airport. It takes all your cunning just to hang onto it, and once it is smashed you have to move into a different sort of life. It is almost a relief to return to fiction in the final story, relishing the macabre nursing home scenes where Lily is trapped after a minor stroke.

These scenes are worthy of Patrick White. There are many pleasures in this short, cunningly crafted, deeply felt book, not the least of which is consistently good writing. This was a largely invisible injury that was not taken as seriously as more visible war wounds. The British World War I poets famously wrote about shell shock; it is less evident in the writing of their Australian contemporaries, who tended to be more intent on celebrating the exploits of the characteristically extroverted Diggers.

But the corrosive psychological legacy of war has rarely been as graphically fictionalised as it is in The War Artist. The novel begins with Brigadier James Phelan flying back to Australia from Afghanistan, like a maimed Odysseus returning from the Trojan Wars an impeccable reference point in the novel. He is accompanying the body of a soldier named Beckett, killed by the Taliban. Phelan had risen to a senior rank without having experienced much active combat. Phelan had ill-advisedly decided to accompany a patrol to an isolated base in the Uruzgan.

His presence is unnecessary, impelled by a personal need to show solidarity with men who can barely conceal their disdain for him. The unusual presence of a senior officer in the neighbourhood inspires a Taliban ambush, leading to the pointless death of Sapper Beckett, whose dying moments Phelan intimately observes. Back in Australia, Phelan cannot escape Beckett, in part because he has his name inscribed on his shoulder on the day of his homecoming, in a studio in Sydney. He enjoys the briefest of flings with the tattooist, Kira, who reappears with her young son later in the novel, on the run from her threatening boyfriend, Flores.

Shamed and guilty, Phelan returns to Brisbane to a troubled marriage to a woman named Penelope, as befits the wife of an antipodean Odysseus. How can the war experience be described and inscribed? It is a question to which Cleary has evidently given some thought. Nonetheless, The War Artist provides a bracing retort to the self-deceptions of Australian military culture. The press coverage of the event was equally specious. Traditional language failing to capture what it means to fight and die in a war, maybe other forms of inscription do the job rather better.

This is both a tribute and a form of atonement. It is an inventive and utterly contemporary way of suggesting how modern warriors might proclaim to the world what they have endured. The novel also describes the stresses faced by civilians, including, and perhaps especially, women, on the battlefields of their own lives. Recovering from breast cancer, Penelope is facing a challenge of her own, and Kira has to deal with the vengeful Flores.

The War Artist is far from perfect. The writing at times succumbs to portentousness, and to this reader the action becomes increasingly implausible as the novel moves helter-skelter towards its melodramatic conclusion. Nevertheless, it is a daring and disarmingly entertaining venture into testing fictional terrain. Nonetheless, the novelisation of Holocaust narratives in the respectful hands of capable authors can be an important way of engaging with the memory, and legacy, of the horrors.

In this, publishers and authors have a special responsibility to distinguish between fiction and non-fiction. This Sved does in her acknowledgments; she is careful to detail connections to the real-life Anonymous statue group members but 42 AP RI L Her prose has the nuance and sensitivity required to support such a task. The plot unfolds through intertwined storylines. The pre-war narrative is told in epistolary chapters set in Budapest in These alternate with a contemporary narrative set in Sydney in , which follows Illy Hughes, her children, Josh and Zoe, and her elderly Hungarian mother.


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While the narrative holds the mystery, the study of family dynamics is often in the foreground. University student Josh relates to his Nagymama, or grandmother, through a shared love of mathematics, but the reader is also aware of a parallel between the chaotic love triangles in each of their lives. Mathematics play a key role in the novel, and offer a vehicle for Sved to explore its themes.

For Eszter, this happens at Hirig Simon, a ritual beating of Jewish students in Hungarian universities. This was there all the time, only loosely restrained by some semblance of civilisation. Sved relates these paradigm shifts back to the central metaphor of seeking patterns in randomness, meaning in chance, order amid chaos.

Technical passages could easily have been laboured in the hands of a lesser writer, but Sved with the help of mathematician Tony Guttmann resists the temptation to over-explain, instead offering brief, relevant, convincing references. The result is a story that bristles with the joy of mathematical inquiry. Along the way, Sved weaves insights into the role of art in understanding the world around us.

Zoe is a photographer, and Illy harbours a dormant passion for sculpture. Sved rejects neat delineation, instead offering many types of chaos in which identity is fragmented and multiple.

See a Problem?

Isobel and her family are escaping a terrible flood that has destroyed Melbourne. Holed up in a stadium — perhaps the MCG — Isobel has no idea what is left of her beachside home or whether there are any plans for anyone to help her or the hundreds of other evacuees now trying to survive amid the bleachers.

Although it has some of the trappings of speculative fiction — a fast-paced opening and a disastrous, dystopian future setting — it quickly becomes clear that The Glad Shout is a novel about families, or, more particularly, about mothers and daughters and their oftenfraught relationships. Marooned in the stadium, Isobel grows increasingly angry with her husband, Shaun, for devoting himself to good works among the evacuees, rather than to protecting his wife and three-year-old daughter.

What on earth did you expect our lives would be like? Isobel often feels Luna loves interior decoration more than she loves her daughter. Is that just what mothers and their children are destined for? To live trapped in a perpetual state of longing? Luna spends hours at work, trying to give Josh and Isobel a decent standard of living as the city crumbles. As disaster strikes, Isobel is repeatedly faced with the choice between helping others or helping her daughter, supporting her husband or supporting her daughter.

The Glad Shout is also a novel about climate change and about the ways we cope with the end of the world. It is something Robinson takes very seriously: she has spoken. In both threads of this novel, we see Melbourne and the rest of Australia collapsing under the weight of multiple climate-change disasters. As Isobel struggles to survive in the evacuation centre, she is offered a chance to escape that means abandoning people she truly loves. Isobel catches the sorrow in his face.

The Glad Shout is an immensely sad book, an elegy, but it is also a warning to all of us to prepare.

THEY CALL EACH OTHER BROTHER

What is its purpose? What form should it take? National theatres come in many configurations. The National Theatre of Great Britain, though much younger than many of its brethren, has achieved much in its fifty-six years. In Dramatic Exchanges, Daniel Rosenthal, the author of an exhaustive if slightly stolid history of the National , has compiled a fascinating collection of letters, notes, emails, and countless first-night cards to create an alternative narrative, not as comprehensive perhaps as his history but much more immediate. It is fascinating to read these alongside the various autobiographies and diaries of those involved.

Here we have the rough drafts that are often considerably smoothed out in their memoirs. At the same time as Laurence Olivier took on the task of founding the National, the exceedingly ambitious twenty-nine-year-old Peter Hall was staking out a claim for his Royal Shakespeare Company in London by taking over the Aldwych Theatre.

Olivier developed a complicated relationship with Maggie Smith, who, until she joined the company, was known mainly as a West End comedienne. Maggie compensated by bestowing a magnificent Millamant on the lucky audience at Stratford, Ontario. Peter Hall, with his formidable drive and proven administrative abilities, was an obvious choice to take the company from a building with one theatre to a building with three. He is the recipient of an incendiary letter from the originally chosen director, the acerbic John Dexter, with whom he fell out over the matter of royalties. Throughout the book it is perhaps the relationships between directors and playwrights which fascinate most.

It is good to see this sort of relationship continuing with Rufus Norris, the present director, and Carol Ann Duffy. Dramatic Exchanges, as its title suggests, concentrates on the artistic side of the National and leaves us unaware of the ways in which the directors, Hytner in particular, attempted to branch out to as wide an audience as possible. Hytner brought in outside companies, made cheap tickets more widely avail-. My Country: A work in progress was the result: it played the Dorfman Theatre at the National and then toured, and the correspondence between Norris and Duffy ends the book.

It was even better if you were in love. Both were strong feminists, possibly because they were brought up by their mothers. Even though he was male and an active member of the Australian Labor. Doris became involved in raising a family, taking on a supporting role to her husband. His constituency was inner Melbourne, and he pursued a great range of local initiatives, especially on behalf of those less fortunate.

He was president of the Victorian branch of the ALP and Speaker of the House of the Victorian Parliament, and became a federal MP in , where he remained until he was defeated for preselection nine years later. However, the history of Australian labour relations is a complicated and of ten fr aught one, and she gives a clear picture of the conflicts Doris Blackburn with her administrative assistant Gloria Canet involved. Not an organisation man, and his actions.

Rasmussen gives us a portrait of the ALP. He eventually succeeded in hav- phor for a professed political idealist if ing it modified, and it became part of ever there was one. Doris did not much the party platform. She cherished literary ambitions; Rasmussen quotes some of her sweet, heartfelt verse, including one or two poems that hint at thwarted ambition.

As time passed, Doris and Maurice Blackburn drifted apart: though both took an active part in the interwar peace debates, Maurice largely occupied the masculine world of the labour movement, which Doris never found congenial. In trying to cope with her grief, she shut Maurice out; she also invited Frank Murphy, an old friend, to live with the family for three years. Rasmussen passes lightly over this, but it does cry out for more discussion of Blackburn family dynamics and relationships.

She was a lonely figure, shunned by her ALP colleagues partly because she loathed Arthur Calwell and the White Australia policy, which she said had been formulated to exclude Asians. She stood firmly against the Woomera rocket range and nuclear testing in peacetime, and developed a strong and lasting concern for Aboriginal welfare and equal rights. She lived to see the passing of the referendum granting full citizenship to Indigenous Australians. In presenting this fleshed out, likeable portrait of two vital, influential people who deserve to be more famous than they are, she has succeeded admirably.

She is currently working on a biography of Vida Goldstein. But the casualness of the Australian way of voting cannot disguise the fundamental importance of each local, state, and federal poll. As the authors of Elections Matter generally agree, elections matter and voters matter: their collective decision-making has shaped the political, social, and economic nature of the Commonwealth of Australia since Elections Matter is an edited collection of essays on ten federal elections that presented the electors with clear choices between different public policy approaches, styles of governance, and key personalities.

While the contributors vary in their conclusions, a general picture emerges of an Australian electorate that seeks to be represented somewhere near the comfortable centre rather than at left or right extremes. Many readers will be surprised that some key federal elections did not merit inclusion in this volume. The election leading to the Menzies. Instead, the book is marked by analysis of less commemorated electoral contests, which, as the authors point out, are more historically significant than one might assume.

Elections that consolidate policies and political perceptions are prominently featured. Understandably, the role of the prime minister as the ultimate representative of an incumbent government is emphasised in most essays included in this collection. Clearly, such a stance was by no means novel: Whitlam in the s and s was a key exponent of such a vision.

Nevertheless, some essays could have paid more attention to acknowledging the fact that, in many instances, major political and policy shifts are forced through without reference to the electorate, including savage budget cuts, replacements of prime ministers, and restructuring public services. Election results have frequently been manipulated by governments to claim. If the electorate is as conservative as the elections covered in this book often suggest, perhaps it is because caution at election time is the only potent protest against imposed societal changes. These observations notwithstanding, Elections Matter has much to commend it.

Each chapter is highly readable and showcases high standards of historical scholarship. Discussions of electoral processes and political campaigning are. It will serve as an effective reference work for political science students and for readers interested in the development of the Australian style of politics and democracy. Within each one were mainstream and anti-mainstream factions, he told us, whose seething contestation with one another was fiercer than with their political enemies.

This was not what we absorbed from most English-language histories, which, as Peter Carey wrote in Wrong about Japan , misled many with the dominant Western narrative. It might begin with the arrival of Francis Xavier in , and record that Japan, unified in , was ruled by the Tokugawa shoguns for three centuries in almost complete peace, secluded from the world apart from limited Portuguese, Dutch, and Russian contacts.

Apart from the years when Japan aggressively sought an empire of its own in the Ryukyu Islands, Korea, Taiwan, Manchuria, China, and Southeast Asia, the nation made peaceful progress. Many of their names are not in our standard histories, and several were women. The author Yosano Akiko wrote a famous poem imploring her brother to defy the emperor and not join the Russo-Japanese War of —5.

Evincing wakon of a different kind, Kanno Sugako conspired to throw a bomb at the emperor, and she was hanged for it. Some blamed the rush to adopt European enlightenment ideas. Others took the guilt upon themselves for the national confusion. Junior army officers from his Imperial Way Faction encircled the Diet and Army Headquarters with a thousand troops in Opposing this, a Control Faction argued for negotiating first, if only to give the weapons industry time to prepare for war, and Japan diplomatically achieved its occupation of French Indochina. Necessity mothered invention, as Harding shows, with heartening examples of postwar wakon.

Jazz pianist Akiyoshi Toshiko paired up with American star Hampton Hawes to make a living, giving concerts for the Occupation troops. Physicist Morita Akio made crude magnetic tape and a clunky tape recorder, and his colleague Ibuka Masaru, after a struggle to get finance, bought the US patent for prototype transistors, which they combined by into the Sony Walkman.

Then came the Shinkansen, which now reaches most parts of Japan. Young Japanese were sharply divided from their elders in the s and s about US military bases and the United States—Japan security treaty. Mass protest demonstrations were met by club-wielding opponents, some. But youthful rebellion morphed into mature conservatism, and Ishihara, a denier of the Nanjing Massacre, went on to represent the establishment as governor of Tokyo. Environmental issues also caused contestation and mistrust.

Hundreds of thousands were irradiated at Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and so were a Japanese fishing crew in by fallout from American nuclear tests at Bikini Atoll: yet Japan relied on nuclear power and.

Marjorie Bowen

Japan was ruled by the Tokugawa shoguns for three centuries in almost complete peace, secluded from the world American nuclear weapons. That novel — told from the perspective of a daughter of Holocaust survivors — is fluid with the movement of memory, exploring grief with sensitivity and depth. It is warm and funny, detailing its characters and their milieu with tenderness and buoyancy. This authorial affection does not extend to The Hollow Bones, whose characters feel condemned from the outset. The signals of his changing temperament feel rigid and fall readily into the usual manoeuvres of represented Nazi behaviour.

This could have been tempered with a closer focus on character, but one gets the feeling Kaminsky is not interested in making us feel sympathy for her protagonists. Here, the author sets out an irretrievable idyll we can all relate to — one which, in this story, Nazism removes access to for good. Other adventurers picked their way through gorges to look upon swirling mists and sublime vistas.

Muir moved on quickly, though, and missed the naturalists by a few days just as Muir himself glanced by Henry David Thoreau in Wisconsin in They were settlers enamoured by the monumentality of remote landscapes and the complexity of the natural systems found therein. Legge shows that this new attachment to nature was about a holistic appreciation of aesthetic, scientific, and social value.

Legge shifts between these dimensions by considering the historical foundations of Tasmanian nature leisure in a series of chronologically informed but mostly thematic chapters. The book pivots on a timely question: what happens as the enthusiastic activities of privileged amateurs are scaled up? This question emerges out of a narrative concerned with Gustav and Kate Weindorfer.

Making home in the Cradles involved more than just the construction of comfortable lodgings. There was botany, geology, and topography to understand, but settlers and visitors also drew on the more intangible ways that humans appreciated the natural world. In Kindred, the real love story is that which develops between the Weindorfers and the Tasmanian highlands.

They came to know nature through an attentiveness to its presence, energy, and even agency. It is clear that the social aspects of nature leisure were important, too. Ironically, solitude was clearly best experienced alongside others. This bore fruit in when the Cradles were classified as a National Park. To a certain extent, this was a grand fantasy. They came to know nature through an attentiveness to its presence, energy, and even agency Mountain were very much a working landscape when the Weindorfers first encountered them in The ignorance of settler heritage in the Cradles compounded a thorough reluctance to explore Indigenous history.

Legge skirts this question in early chapters but deals with it explicitly in the fourth. Like other settler wilderness enthusiasts — John Muir especially — there was little room for an Indigenous history of scenic and scientific landscapes. Finally, this book provides new contexts for recent controversies in the Tasmanian highlands.

Far from the sparsely populated space that the Weindorfers encountered in , Cradle Mountain is now the destination of some , tourists a year. As a journalist, Legge has recently investigated plans to develop an eco-tourist lodge within the Walls of Jerusalem National Park. Kindred explains how these still-contested sites were initially encountered, belatedly appreciated, and eventually held up as paradigms of settler environmental management. Though the Weindorfers might have been horrified at the sight of so many tourists flowing off buses or by the notion of them dropping in on helicopters, they would probably also see a fulfilment of their original ambitions.

The highlands are still a laboratory for science, but they are also a source of inspiration for tourists and other visitors. It is as if the evangelism of wilderness advocates still puts them in complicated positions.

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This contradiction hung over the Weindorfers at Waldheim and clearly haunts nature lovers still. Jarrod Hore is a historian from Sydney. He teaches and researches at Macquarie University and specialises in environmental and settler colonial history. He is currently working on a book about settlers, nature, and wilderness thinking in late-nineteenth-century Australasia and California. Like Lemons, Blakwork is packed with wit, image, and sensibility; with views that surprise, excoriate, charm, and amuse, by turns.

This is a political book, one that extends and enhances poetic diction in Australia, but it is never didactic. It never takes its eye off the history of post-invasion Australia and what this means for Aboriginal people, of how law fails to function appropriately when its subject is black, and of the mismatch between white and Aboriginal ways of being and living in this country.

Yet there is no sentimentality, no mere complaint: rather, it is a nuanced, critical, felt, and poetic account of being, and of Australia, with all its complexities and its passions. The scholarly literature suggests that, as biography, poetry has uncertain value, but nonetheless poets do write in this form. From the story of the king Gilgamesh c. This double identity is perfectly reasonable: it is, after all, a collection of individual poems that stand as poems in their own right, but together form a narrative arc; and, as the endnotes show, they are deeply embedded in, and emerge from, the archival documents held in the Strehlow Research Centre in Alice Springs.

Shilton effectively straddles the different demands of poetry, history, life writing, and an imaginative embodying of that life and the country in which it was lived — no easy task given that each mode comes with different demands and trajectories. We walk in fine mist, the sand deepened to blood red, until we are wet through. These lines take on the quality of a haiku: close attention to the natural world and the human experience of momentary transformation, along with the magic of light, texture, and colour in a land that exists independent of human presence. A fine short poem has superior snapshot capabilities.

Most of the short poems, however, are little bursts of language in the mouth, to be popped in and quickly swallowed. Are these mere jokes? Westminster Abbey, when all the speaker knows of Cromwell is the name of her hometown. What else is distinctively New Zealand about the anthology, besides being a bunch of poems from New Zealand? Despite ongoing arguments about the negligible cultural differences between Kiwi and Aussie culture, this is not a collection of poems that could have been assembled anywhere else.

The poems are threaded with the specificity of place names: towns and beaches and mountain ranges. There is also the proximity of all the poems in the anthology — like all the towns and cities of New Zealand — to the sea. An environmental consciousness arising from a close attention to the natural world is found in the short poems of great-grandparent figures like Ruth Dallas, as well as contemporary elders and caretaker-poets like Dinah Hawken and Brian Turner.

The intelligence of Bill Manhire, of course, is generously represented. This anthology is a treasure. A tone of sweetness and prayerfulness predominates. However, though the poems are small, they are not slight. This is an anthology packed with significance and thought. The conviction of absolute truth becomes especially toxic when believers are convinced that the end of the world is nigh. This is exacerbated in times of major socio-economic change and political instability, such as during the Protestant Reformation.

What started as a peaceful apocalyptic movement transmuted into a religious monstrosity. Often in such situations, opportunists seize control. However, his kingdom was always small. Drawing on apocalyptical literature, the Anabaptists believed that the end of the world was approaching. They repudiated Catholicism and Lutheranism, believed in adult baptism, and called for a radical, almost communistic sharing of goods and possessions as described in the Acts of the Apostles.

All books were to be burned except the Bible. Despite this, many women were attracted to Anabaptism because it gave them a sense of spiritual liberation. This can probably be traced back to the late Middle Ages when many nuns and laywomen — like Julian of Norwich, Margery Kempe, and later Tereza of Avila — found agency through commitment to a deeply personal spirituality leading them to exercise considerable influence in the church.

Reading New Jerusalem, it struck me that perhaps the medieval church was right in restricting access to the Bible. Anabaptists are a good example of what can happen when everyone becomes their own biblical interpreter, especially of apocalyptic books like Daniel and Revelation and prophets like Ezekiel. This is coded, symbolic, poetic literature written for times of persecution, literature aiming to provide hope for oppressed Jews and Christians by emphasising that the powers that struggle against them will be finally routed in the end times by God.

Taken out of context, apocalyptic texts are open to all types of bizarre interpretations. The core issue of Anabaptism is adult baptism. They argued that in the New Testament and the early church all converts were adults because conversion required a mature commitment to faith.

In fact, the earliest unequivocal reference to infant baptism comes from the third century. There was to be no Christian forgiveness here. Many of the townspeople were slaughtered, and King John and the other leaders were executed with exquisite cruelty, having challenged the foundations of church and social order. It is not that peace-loving people had not tried to preach tolerance. Twenty per cent of the German population was killed in the process.

Young Walter Kaufmann, a German Jew forced to flee the National Socialist regime to the United States, has returned to his native land as part of the occupying forces. Kaufmann is steeped in a German intellectual tradition of Bildung, meaning education or culture. This humanist tradition sees philosophy and literature as serving to liberate, challenge, and cultivate the self.

In occupied Germany, Kaufmann sees the tradition of Bildung humiliated and degraded by the inhumanity of Nazism. Some of the canonical texts are accused of harbouring proto-Nazi ideas. Others have been claimed by Nazi ideologues seeking to fashion an intellectual foundation for the fascist regime. In a bookstore, Kaufmann discovers an edition of the works of a writer tarred more heavily with the Nazi brush than most — Friedrich Nietzsche — and is absorbed. On his return to the United States, Kaufmann commences an immensely productive career as a philosopher, translator, poet, and photographer, drawing upon and indefatigably defending this German tradition.

For Corngold, Kaufmann is by no means right about everything, but he is a provocative and, at times, brilliant thinker. Kaufmann is praised for his unfailing effort to draw upon the humanities to address crucial concerns of human existence, such as suffering, ethics, autonomy, and meaning. Corngold admires Kaufmann for his humanist ethical vision. Throughout his works, Kaufmann holds human capacities in high regard. Kaufmann considered himself a heretic; he prided himself on posing radical questions and maintaining his independence from any particular school or doctrine.

But he also went to unusual lengths to identify what is insightful in the views of those with whom he disagreed. Corngold rightly admires this quality in a time where empathetic treatment of opposing viewpoints seems rare, both in scholarly debates and in everyday life. Philosophy and literature have the power to help us deal with existential concerns. The point of studying them is not to decide questions of scholarly curiosity. This makes Kaufmann hostile to overly scholastic approaches to philosophy.

This work is widely acknowledged as pivotal in challenging the Nazi appropriation of Nietzsche and rehabilitating him as a philosopher worthy of study following World War II. Eager for a straw man to attack, the critics have not followed the practice of generous yet critical reading espoused by Kaufmann and Corngold. This question can be situated in a broader debate about the future of humanism.

In the twentieth century, critiques of humanism emerged from a number of angles. Critics argue that a problematic essentialist notion of humanity undergirds humanism. They purport to identify links between. Contemporary work from this perspective locates Nietzsche as a precursor of postmodernism, ambivalent about humanism. Such work is inspired by interpretations of Nietzsche by such writers as Foucault and Gilles Deleuze, another twentieth-century French thinker.

Corngold sympathises with humanism. In a previous work, The Fate of the Self: German writers and French theory , he defends a broadly humanist concept of selfhood derived from the German philosophical and literary tradition from postmodernists like Foucault. The debate about the value and future of humanist ideals is very much open. I for one think that we have a great deal to learn from humanists like Kaufmann, although I think the critics have a point. Lost World Sonnets 1 In my mind he is always half the age I am now as he stands on a green shelf of Razorback mountain.

I will wait for him forever in the backseat of a car, my chin numbing on the window ledge as I study his black hair shuffling the void between earth and dark sky. My eyes walk him back from the edge. What does he know of life which as yet is still a question. His wife at home breastfeeding and reading industrial relations texts as we hunt for geodes. He washes his hands in dirt and tries to pull one from the tangle. Hold it still, he tells me. His hands are shaking. I squint as he spears a worm with a hook and slides it up to the line. My eyes open as he threads another. He drops my line in the waterhole and ties a blue tarpaulin to a tree.

Vincenzo Bellini - Norma (Joan Sutherland, 1978) with multi-subtitles

I reel in a catfish. He pins it with a knee and rips the hook from its mouth. I drive the rock into the blade. My wrists are splattered with slurry. It greys my hair and coats my tongue. The language I inherited is not yet large enough for the work I have to do. Our last night in Lost World I heard him sobbing by the fire and years later I am abducted by a poem as if carried off by a hawk.

When the rock cracks open there is nothing inside but rock. This story starts in the s and s with commercial mainframe computers that, one stack of punch-cards at a time, assumed business tasks ranging from managing airline reservations to calculating betting odds. Then, in the mids, geniuses like Steve Jobs and Bill Gates pioneered home computing.

Personal computers, and later smartphones and the internet, became the defining technologies of our age. Nerdy men, often in their garages, had remade the world. An appealing story, but it leaves out a lot. In fact, it might leave out the key parts. People were sending electronic messages all over New England in Around that time, professors and students at Dartmouth College pioneered the BASIC programming language, innovative for prioritising clarity over efficiency.

Soon it was the lingua franca of hobbyists and students worldwide. This social world was the fertile soil from which personal computing grew. These systems privileged accessibility over efficiency as users executed relatively simple programs rather 58 AP RI L Advocates for this technology viewed these systems as a digital commons in which users shared a resource akin to a public utility. Time-sharing networks both broadened the base of the computer literate as well as pioneered the userfriendliness necessary to make the computer a mass technology.

On a happier note, the importance of games and human interaction is a theme throughout. Working on a time-sharing network linking Minnesota high schools, several teachers developed the game in the early s and it would become a key driver of early digital literacy. Games got children excited about computers and helped transform computing from an acquired skill into a native one.

Rankin similarly notes that communication drove the spread of computing as much as machine efficiency. The implication here is that though some of the big developments in computing were driven by concrete business or defence needs, the popularisation and personalisation of the computer was about people trying to interact with each other and even have fun. That is not to say that the story told in the myth is not important, but rather that it is incomplete. Nevertheless, it is seriously unlikely that the Silicon Valley myth is going anywhere, particularly in the public imagination.

This is because of the political and ideological work it does. A story of innovation and enterprise underpins a belief that our greatest achievements are exclusively the work of business and the profit motive. The book is also a delight to read. In one memorable passage, she describes how a computer program works, intertwining the BASIC programming-language commands with a prose explanation of each step. The raw material is often compelling: dramatic symptoms, embarrassing public moments, and unavoidable relationship pressures.

The challenge is to share that raw material in a new way. Not every memoir needs to turn on the conceit that illness is an obstacle that must be overcome. Full disclosure: I have multiple sclerosis. Excitement, because reading about the symptoms and experiences of another person with MS is fascinating.

There is a potential common bond when someone I have never met describes the exact feeling I have been trying to communicate to my neurologist. Those of us who are ill need a common language. I also approached the book with a certain cynicism. I am not just looking for stories, I seek prose or insight to illuminate my condition. There are sub-genres to explore — not just misery-lit and sick-lit, but memoirs of alcoholism and addiction, of recovery from trauma, of grief, of living with mental illness, and, finally, of terminal illness.

As a citizen of sickness, I read such memoirs because I want to find someone who has had an experience or a symptom like mine. Llewellyn opens with quotes from Joan Didion. Didion is the most famous writer to live with multiple sclerosis, though she has chosen to stay silent on the disease for decades. Llewellyn is not silent, but aside from the prologue, where Llewellyn shares her experience of her. We are given a first-hand tour of what it was like for a healthy young man to contract polio in the s in Australia, a time before equality and accessibility became something we talk about.

Diving into Glass is a work about a father and daughter, two individuals with experience of illness and disability. How many people can count Salman Rushdie as a former boss and the late Philip Roth as a friend? It is also a nod to her future goals. Llewellyn is by no means done making her mark. Diving into Glass is a reflection on disability and how we as a society have changed — and not changed — in our attitudes towards what makes a good life. The work is also a reflection on the relationship between parent and child.

Llewellyn often recounts the ingenious and not always successful means her father developed to discipline and protect his children, even though he. Memoirs teach us about the world and force us to consider how we would react if we found ourselves in different circumstances. They are a way to share the human experience, and to experience what is beyond our own lives. But Diving into Glass is more biography than memoir. Much of the rest is devoted to her career, with her experience of multiple sclerosis bookending the work.

But my reading of Diving into Glass is influenced by my own experience. Others, perhaps other citizens of sickness, may react differently. This is a work for those interested in exploring life with disability, as well as how the discussion of ableism and discrimination in Australian society has evolved, in most cases for the better. It is also a work for those interested in a career in the arts, for Llewellyn has world-class tales to tell.

After studying literature, my first role in books was with the Australian Publishers Association. It gave me a good overall view of the industry, here and abroad. This put me in contact with writers, publishers, editors, and the book media; it was wonderful and exhausting in equal measure.

Since then I have been a publisher at what has become Penguin Random House. After sixteen years I continue to feel privileged to do what I do. I am very proud of most of the books I have published. And every novel I have ever published, of course. I do the structural edits on all my books, but not the line edits.

One of the advantages of moving to an open-plan office has been the ability to behave like a meerkat and pop up and check in on edits frequently. I stay very involved. To have the honour of listening to and working with these enormous hearts and minds is inestimable. Managing expectations and disappointment is a challenge. Anything that takes me out of my world: into a quiet space I have just started The Friend by Sigrid Nunez , or somewhere big and noisy that I could never possibly experience myself such as Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, or those books that blow your mind and make you more active in the world like The Water Will Come by Jeff Goodell.

In a highly competitive market, is individuality one of the casualties? Individuality can be the unique selling point that helps a book or author stand out. On publication, which is more gratifying: a brilliant launch, a satisfied author, encomiastic reviews, or rapid sales? A launch is the bottom of this list. Generally, rapid sales lead to a satisfied author, but I do have a tendency to look to, and be proud of, strong reviews.

Sometimes you buy a manuscript without having any contact with the author, and it is generally the manuscript or proposal you first engage with. You hope for respect, an engaged mind, and a preparedness to listen to ideas and suggestions.