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Kate Holden’s The Winter Road is a ranging meditation on a 2014 execution-style murder committed on a dirt track in Croppa Creek, in northwest NSW. Barry Gittins speaks to Kate Holden about her prize-winning account of the crime, reminding readers of the uneasy history of predation in this country and the damage it does to the land and to the people on it.
A small autograph book from an Australian army nurse in World War II provides a unique glimpse into the lives of those she cared for in Palestine. With sketches and heartfelt inscriptions, the book illuminates the overlooked efforts of nurses whose dedication continued even after the war.
With every Anzac Day, the stories told reflect changing attitudes. Past celebrations focused on patriotism and romance of war, but this year's tone is more serious due to global events. Anzac Day now emphasises remembering, compassion, honouring victims of war, and advocating for peace.
This year Anzac Day promises to be a subdued celebration with local events in which people who have fought in wars and their relatives can take part. Few will be able to travel to Gallipoli to remember the invasion. The focus of the day will remain rightly on the sorrow of war and not on the heroic achievements of soldiers or on deemed distinctive Australian qualities displayed at Gallipoli. The association of soldiers at Gallipoli with footballers playing their games on Anzac Day will seem not only crass but ridiculous.
The movement for genuine and long overdue truth telling about Australian history has gained considerable momentum in recent years. The Frontier Wars in particular has emerged as one of, if not the most significant untold stories which it is now broadly agreed must be included in any such process.
The military police were waiting for us in Gallipoli and they were not happy. Approaching in darkness, when we rolled to a stop we were immediately surrounded by uniformed figures. A group of men playing cards outside a café watched this drama unfold and one shouted something which made them all laugh. The military police, however, did not laugh.
Of my three sons, two have tattoos. Not all-over body-as-art ones, but tattoos, nonetheless, with my army son leading the way. When he rang to tell me about this new venture, I sarcastically remarked that the only way I could cope with a tattoo was that if it depicted a heart, an arrow and the message MUM. Needless to say, a guffaw greeted this remark.
The border-obsessed times we live in reminded me of some really tough borders I encountered in years past. It is October 1961, the place: rural Turkey. Where you would have expected to roll on down the deserted dusty road, there is a boom gate and four sentries. This can’t be a border, however.
This year the celebration of Anzac Day will be muted. No marches, no large reunions, few speeches at war memorials. The soldiers and others who lost their lives in war will be remembered, however, as they should be. Indeed, the celebration will perhaps speak more eloquently because of its simplicity.
While Bob Carr's institute was deemed to be a panda hugger and Clive Hamilton's position on Chinese influence was considered to be dragon slaying, knowledgeable discussion is a distant third. To China-watchers, the relative lack of a sophisticated focus on Australia-China relations during the election was simply business as usual.
As I wait to be reunited with my fiancée from Afghanistan, my discomfort is heightened by New Zealand's involvement in her country, and by an awareness of her sense of persecution, as a Muslim, after the Christchurch massacres. I do not feel able to partake in any traditional ANZAC service, as if nothing has changed.
Two recent stories in the Australian attack Murdoch University academics who supposedly described Anzacs as 'killers' and detainees on Manus Island as 'prisoners'. The stories display a poor understanding of the academic role, and the nature of 'critique', which is not to merely to present all arguments as if they had equal merit.