The Australian Ballet's role as a leader in philanthropy and fundraising has long been recognised in the arts community. Anyone who has followed the company will be aware of the sophistication of its fundraising activities and its phenomenal success. Much of this has been directed by Kenneth Watkins, who since 1993 has worked in various fundraising roles at The Australian Ballet.

Philanthropy and the Arts examines, through current theory and individual case studies, The Australian Ballet's philanthropic success within the wider context of philanthropy and the arts in Australia. While the historical context here is more applicable to performing arts organisations than to art museums, whose collections since their establishment in the nineteenth century have been largely built on philanthropy, the present-day applications described have sector-wide applications, showing remarkable ingenuity, a willingness to take risks, and success. (Certain literary magazines are finding innovative ways to attract private support.)

In 1965 a busload of students drove through a number of small Australian towns to protest the treatment of Aboriginal people. These events are the backdrop for Sue Lawson's Freedom Ride, a novel set in the fictional town of Walgaree, where racial tensions are high. Robbie, the novel's young protagonist, is generally obliging, but he is at an age where he must choose between remaining silent in order to fit in or sticking his neck out for what he believes is right.

Freedom Ride is set in a time and a place where indigenous locals were all but segregated – the Walgaree RSL doesn't even allow indigenous servicemen to drink at their bar – and it shines an uncomfortable spotlight on Australia's racist past. Robbie is too intimidated by his overbearing Nan and bullying classmates to protest against their racist behaviour. Then he meets Barry Gregory, who has returned to run the local caravan park. Barry gives Robbie a job working alongside Mickey, a young Aborigine. The two boys become friendly, but when news of the 'Freedom Ride' reaches Walgaree, anyone who doesn't know his place is in danger.

Richard Goldstein, one of the first rock critics, has always occupied a weird place in the history of music criticism. His memoir could have sat uneasily as an attempt to justify and reconcile his position, but instead, Goldstein taps into a strangely confessional vein, tracing his history from the Bronx to the Ballroom, finding his home at the Village Voice, with honesty and wit.

The honesty is welcome, even though Goldstein suffers at times from a want of humility. This see-saws throughout: dryly bullish about his role in the countercultural wars, he will just as readily empty the insecurities of the unconscious onto the page. As his engagement with rock'n'roll and pop culture intensifies, so do his cutting rejoinders. His encounters with intellectuals – flinching from Susan Sontag's dry barbs; seeing Marshall McLuhan and Timothy Leary as the hucksters they are – are hilarious.

While Becoming Kirrali Lewis is being marketed as a Young Adult novel, this big-hearted Australian story could fruit-fully be read in many other ways. Playwright Jane Harrison's début novel about a young indigenous woman's political and personal awakening could be labelled as historical fiction, indigenous writing, or even political fiction. Maureen McCarthy's recent novels The Convent (2012) and Stay With Me (2015), speak to a wider span of generations in similar ways.