Cirrus@Austlit

'The familiar periodisations of post-World War II Australian history sample their own versions of Donald Horne, each evoked in Ryan Cropp's biography. There is the ‘mean-spirited’ (p.116) Cold War warrior through to Horne's emergence as ‘Australia's leading republican’ (p.40) in the 1970s. Then comes Horne's prominence at the intersection of ‘public culture’, ‘cultural policy’ and (in retaliation under John Howard as – so Horne described him shortly before his death in 2005– ‘the ayatollah of the Australian character’) the ‘culture wars’ from the 1990s onwards. In between, of course, was The Lucky Country, that incisive account of the average Australian (‘a man in an open-necked shirt, solemnly eating an ice-cream’), never out of print since 1964, set for school curricula, its ironic title so frequently misunderstood.' (Introduction)

'Two daughters profile a controversial father and an enigmatic mother against the backdrop of the growing bush capital'

'Sean Scalmer's biography of Graham Berry (1822–1904) is “an act of historical recovery”, reclaiming Berry — Premier of Victoria in 1875, 1877–1880, and 1880–1881 — as “the most important and influential reformer of a dauntless reforming age”. Scalmer's narrative captures the compressed, volatile dynamics of Victorian colonial politics as Berry, judged “an extreme liberal” on his first election to the Legislative Assembly in 1861, became the most effective advocate for the protectionist principles which would long influence Australian policy and political debate. Applying the fine-grained attention to the “textures” of political activism that characterises his work, Scalmer revives our appreciation of the “political experiment” of colonial Victoria, not least as a source of inspiration “for our own beleaguered polity”.'  (Introduction)

'A radical polymath himself, Jack Lindsay recalled Vere Gordon Childe as ‘a bubble-pricker’ yet retained an affectionate regard for this deeply enigmatic man. ‘He was the most detached person I knew’, Lindsay continued, ‘and yet one felt all the while there was a warm core to his gently spoken and deadly sarcasm’ (124). Terry Irving’s biography, similarly, gently works its way around Childe, a figure who demands a measure of introspection as well as a breadth of scholarly investment from those seeking to understand and ‘place’ him.' (Introduction)

'Both Judith Brett’s The Enigmatic Mr Deakin and Julia Suares’ J.B. Chifley: An ardent internationalist have received much attention since their publication in 2017 and 2019. This review is coming late to the parties welcoming the revitalisation of our understanding of two of Australia’s most significant prime ministers. The coupling of these books here might seem unlikely. Alfred Deakin (1856–1919) and Ben Chifley (1885–1951) led during transformative periods. Brett judges Deakin ‘Australia’s most constructive prime minister before … World War Two’ (330); Suares seeks greater recognition of Chifley’s influence in shaping the reconstruction agenda following that war, particularly in pursuing a bold ‘emergent future’ of international cooperation (18). In background and personality, however, the two can hardly have been more different. What can these two studies, and these two men, show when viewed side-by-side? At a time when the personal account dominates discussion of political leadership, it is in itself refreshing to reflect on the different contexts that shaped these figures, not as individual projects but as lives interdependent with their times.' (Introduction)

'My family home was not bookish, but there was a ten volume set of the Australian Encyclopaedia, shelved alongside the novels of Neville Shute and Arthur Upfield. First published in 1958 by Angus and Robertson, ours was the 1963 edition from the Grolier Society, purchased in response to that US‐based company's practice of direct‐to‐the‐home appeals to parents to take their children's education seriously. I was regularly advised to “look it up”. The Encyclopaedia was a distinctive reference text, exclusively, almost defiantly Australian, with a marked concentration on people, place, native fauna and flora. “Special articles” included 75, 000 words (the longest entry) on “Australia's aborigines”, “written by 12 authorities from various States, and illustrated with 14 pages of photographs and 13 maps”. Its glossy paper squeaked between your fingers: 400 “authorities” gave it gravitas, among them government departments, other institutions and individuals — from the president of a Hard Court Lawn Tennis Association to a retired naval commander (writing on “Australiana”) to a professor of nuclear physics. The Encyclopaedia marked a transition from a self‐improving nationalism to a more objectified learning. Its editor‐in‐chief, “Alec H. Chisholm”, insisted that “human interest” and “Austral‐oddities” must leaven the strict adherence to “facts” demanded by the venture. In this subtle biography of Chisholm, Russell McGregor alerts us to the many ways in which his subject marked several such transitions, and tensions, in his career, persona and personality.' (Introduction)

'I am ashamed to recall that when our high-school history class in the late 1970s was set K.S. Inglis’s The Australian Colonists (1974), I – and I don’t think I was alone – didn’t quite know what to do with a text that focused on ‘ceremonies, monuments and rhetoric’, one that began as a study on 26 January 1788 but worked back as an historical enquiry from 25 April 1915.' (Introduction)

'Rick Farley was an extraordinary man. As head of the Cattlemen's Union and National Farmers' Federation, a key figure in the Landcare movement and a public campaigner for Indigenous rights and Reconciliation, Farley had an insider's view of many key political and social changes in Australia over his thirty years in the public eye.

'Aligned at various stages with the National Party, ALP and the Australian Democrats, Farley was a political enigma who nevertheless had a straightforward mission: for all Australians "to care a lot better for our country".

'When he died in in a tragic accident in 2006, aged 53, the overwhelming grief and heartfelt tributes of his family, friends, supporters and old adversaries spoke volumes about his achievements and his much-admired ability to find a way through adversity and complex negotiations.

'A Way Through is the engrossing story of a unique man whose determination and sense of justice has left a lasting legacy for many Australians.' (From the publisher's website.)

Comprises papers given at a conference 'Music and Musicians in Australian Cultural History 1930-1960' held at the Humanities Research Centre, Australian National University, 25-29 September, 1993.