Non Fiction

John Bryson has tried to solve one of Australia’s great mysteries – how Azaria Chamberlain died. The cover of Evil Angels gives the clue to his answer. A bruise-coloured sky glowers over a stark, orange-brown desert. There is the twisted relic of a tree in the foreground and in front of it, like a spreading puddle of blood, the shadow of a dingo, its eyes on an evil slant.

One of the truly astonishing accounts to emerge in Munster’s account concerns another US president, John F. Kennedy, whose press secretary, Pierre Salinger, forged a cable in Murdoch’s name to kill a Murdoch report of an off-the-record talk he had with the president. The cable, sent through State Department channels, was signed ‘Murdoch’.

This is a massive book, as large in scale as the author himself, running to over 700 pages, and – at a rough estimate – to something like 300,000 words of text, lightened only by a few photographs, all of them of Gough Whitlam with friends and enemies.

It is 116 years since Charles Harpur, Australia’s first poet of real eminence, died with his own collection of his works unpublished. Except for a couple of small selections – the most recent of which, made by Adrian Mitchell in 1973 and containing only about 120 pages of the poetry, was the most comprehensive – and the infamously corrupt 1883 ‘collection’, it has remained so. This has been a blot on the reputation of Australian critical and academic workers and a loss not only to Australian literature but to Australian history. Now Elizabeth Perkins, of the English Department of James Cook University, has handsomely remedied a long injustice.

Self-publishing has always happened. Once the province of the very rich who like to press their thoughts in slim monogrammed volumes on friends and governments, or the last desperate resort of the very nutty, books published by their authors were usually given away and probably rarely read.

Lloyd Robson has produced a finely researched and lucid book which will become a standard reference on the early political history of the island of Tasmania. Volume One deals with the intrigues, conflicts and self-indulgences that were endemic in the emerging society and boldly illustrates the path to ‘self rather than ‘responsible’ government, together with the feelings of animosity that were generated towards particular colonial governorships.

While most of us know something of the great figures of the heroic age of Antarctic exploration, the more painstaking and routine, although often equally courageous, work of the scientific expeditions in the last fifty years rarely commands public attention. Dr Phillip Law, Leader of the Australian National Antarctic Research Expeditions from 1949 to 1966 redresses this neglect in the first volume of his autobiography, reviewed here by Clive Coogan, who assesses Law’s own contribution and the Importance of his work to Australia.