'Readers may notice the higher profile of book reviews in this and the last issue of Australian Aboriginal Studies. They have approximately doubled in comparison with previous issues, reflecting in part the ever-increasing range as well as number of publications relevant to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander studies. It also reflects the hard work of the book review editors, Dr Tamsin Donaldson and Dr Graeme Ward . To assist readers, the titles reviewed are listed and classified by subject at the beginning of the Book Reviews section. Reinstated is the listing of books received and not yet reviewed. Inevitably, some books are never reviewed, either because a reviewer cannot be found for them, their content is not centrally Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander studies, or too much time has elapsed since they were published. In the current issue, we have initiated Book Notes in which the contents of books not reviewed are summarised.' (Editorial introduction)
'During the early years of European colonisation, Aboriginal people across southeastern Australia told colonists about fearsome monsters inhabiting deep river pools and lakes. A considerable interest was shown in locating and identifying the beast. It came to be called bunyip, a Victorian name derived from the Wergaia dialect in the northwest.' (Introduction)
'Daughters of the Dreaming was originally published in 1983, after being modified from the author's doctoral thesis (Australian National University). It is an analysis of data collected in Central Australia, primarily at Ali Curung (Alekerenge), an Aboriginal settlement to the south of Tennant Creek, originally known as Warrabri. Bell conducted research there at various times between 1976 and 1982, mostly between September 1976 and January 1978.' (Introduction)
'This book is published in fulfilment of a promise made by Ronald and Catherine Berndt to their Aboriginal friends of the Lower Murray River area of South Australia. The promise was that the social history of the Narrinyeri people would be made available to their descendants and to all Australians. For the Berndts, the fieldwork, undertaken in 1939, 1942 and 1943, was among their first encounters with indigenous Australians. It is sad that its publication is among their last. Ronald Berndt died in 1990 before the manuscript was published. Catherine Berndt survived her husband to write the acknowledgements for the book, but she too died in 1994.' (Introduction)
'Stars of Tagai: The Torres Strait Islanders contains an excellent coverage of Torres Strait Island responses and initiatives to various moments and phases of the colonial process, yet it is also a particularly difficult book which in its initial stages resists the reader. It is uneven in its construction and analysis, and this may be partly what Sharp is referring to when she speaks of the 'written project' as being 'asymmetrical' (p 15). Because Parts II—IV easily stand alone from Part I, a reader who wants ready access to the beautifully grounded Torres Strait Island narratives can skip Part I without losing access to Torres Strait Island people's own senses of themselves. The inclusion of large extracts of uninterrupted Torres Strait Island narratives, especially in Part III, is the highlight of the book. It is here that selected Torres Strait Island speakers eloquently elaborate their world views, and this works well (Chapters 4 to 6). Her linking of 'two circles of understanding' (hers and that of the 'stars'—creative Torres Strait individuals) is achieved only when she sufficiently situates her discussion in 'thick description' (Geertz 1973). At other times, the text (particularly in Part I) reads like a private flight of fancy, unconvincing and often unreadable.' (Introduction)
'This is the second volume of transcriptions of the words of songs from several Australian languages, set out with an accompanying English text on the opposing page, that has been edited by Martin Duwell and RM W Dixon. It is gratifying to see that, in this volume, due recognition is given to the collaboration between the singers and other expert speakers of the language, including (in some cases) a non-Aboriginal person; this collaboration is necessary to produce and translate this type of text.' (Introduction)
'For those of us involved in Australian language issues, this book should have been a landmark publication. Its author, Eve Mumewa Fesl, has solid academic credentials: she holds a doctorate in linguistics, has occupied several academic posts, and has a long record as an outspoken language-policy activist. So we come to this book, a product of her doctoral research, with strong expectations. Here, we might think, we will find something exciting and interesting—if not some original research, at least some unique synthesis of already available material, an authentic Koori voice speaking to us through the medium of Western scholarship. Unfortunately, this is not the case; in virtually all respects, this is a disappointing work. There is little here that is new in itself; there is nothing that has been put together in an interesting way. The book is poorly written and only loosely, ramblingly organised. And the standard of scholarship gives no indication of its origins in a doctoral program; in respect of its depth and breadth of research, it operates more at the level of popular journalism.' (Introduction)
'This is an important book. It represents a detailed enquiry into issues of major significance, draws on a wide range of sources including oral testimony, and affords ample evidence of a resolute, open-minded approach, free of ideological blinkers. Ten years ago, historians in this country lacked the capacity to approach contact history with such sensitivity. This is not to say, however, that the book is free from problems.' (Introduction)
'The German naturalist Amalie Dietrich lived and researched in Australia between 1861 and 1873. When Ray Sumner first began her research into the work of Dietrich in the early 1980s, Dietrich's name was not well known in Australia. Sumner became increasingly fascinated by this quite remarkable woman and, following from her doctoral thesis, Amalie Dietrich in Australia (1985), she wrote a series of articles which examined Dietrich's botanical and zoological collections and another on her collection of early photographs of Queensland Aborigines. In a subsequent paper, Sumner focused on Amalie Dietrich's role in both Australian scientific history and in Australian-German relations, coming to the conclusion that, despite her considerable contribution, Dietrich still remained a virtually unknown figure in this country.' (Introduction)
One day in 1980, David Mowaljarlai, a Ngarinyin elder, walked into the office of one of Jutta Malnic's co-workers. He was seeking assistance to help him record cultural places in his home country in the Kimberley region of Western Australia. Jutta Malnic was at the time writing a book about the rock pictures of Australia, and was looking for assistance from Aboriginal custodians of the Kimberley region. Her book was published in 1982, but the greater outcome of her associations with David Mowaljarlai was Yorro Yorro. ' (Introduction)
'Queensland Review is a new journal title in the field of humanities and social sciences; volume one, number one appeared in June 1994.'
'As implied by the name , this journal is essentially about Queensland. The editors aim to provide a forum for researchers and their work, and, in the process, initiate a new understanding of Queensland's culture and society. One of the functions of the journal, cited in the editorial, is to 'encourage connections between academic and independent researchers and to explore links between research and policy across a range of fields'. (Introduction)
'These four beautiful books, in the veritable tradition of well-loved stories, surely will continue to be retold. The stories themselves stem from a range of sources. Bangu the Flying Fox, as Jillian Taylor and the book's colophon inform us, is a Dreamtime story courtesy of the Umbarra Cultural Tour Group and Mervyn Penrith who '...told his grandfather's story and gave permission for us to share it with you'. It tells the story of Bangu, who cannot decide whether she is an animal or a bird, and who 'changes sides' depending on which group is 'winning in the fight'. Bangu's appearance, exclusively at night, is thus explained, and a suitably moral ending ensues. Without the use of metaphor, or allowing this message by association, young readers/listeners are directed: 'If you find friends, stick with them. Help them when things are good and when things are bad'. Bangu the Flying Fox is apparently aimed at both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal audiences; the book will be useful in primary schools, incorporating a Koori narrative into learning. A teacher living near Wallaga Lake, Jillian Taylor will have noted the benefits of inclusion and this, presumably, was an aim of the retelling.' (Introduction)
