Australian politics, society & culture

Education

By Danielle Wood
“Kate,” says Faye, “is a mezzo soprano. For which I am grateful, actually.” There is opera playing and it seems, to Tamsin, to occupy Faye’s apartment as if it were part of the decor; the rich voice echoing off the timber of the furniture, rippling over near-white carpet as soft as the fleece of a newborn lamb.“I
By John Clarke
Ray Parkin told stories, real stories, non-fiction, and he didn’t tell them to amuse or to entertain. He told them to record. Ray wanted you to understand, to know how it was. This was interesting to me because I knew nothing about the Japanese war, or the navy. I was at his place with my daughter one day when a bird
Plaques and decay. Can Kings Cross survive a $30 million facelift?
By Linda Jaivin
There’s something inescapably romantic about the idea of the Cross, that dirty half mile of Darlinghurst Road plus the suburbs of Potts Point, Elizabeth Bay, Rushcutters Bay, Darlinghurst and Woolloomooloo which fall away from its ridge. The Cross is a dream of poets and drunks and trannies, of a long night that winds
Australia's national philosopher: John Anderson
By Clive James
There is a tone of voice you can hear in the way a sentence is balanced, even if you are not equipped to understand its content. “What the idealist has, in fact, to show is that there is no real distinction, and the answer is that in that case there can be no real relation.” Thus wrote John Anderson in Studies in
'The Grave at Thu Le' by Catherine Cole
By Drusilla Modjeska
Considering the significance of Vietnam in Australia’s post-colonial sense of itself, it is curious that it hasn’t made its way to prominence in our literary culture. There is writing by Vietnamese Australians, though it’s little known beyond their community, and Vietnam appears in the work of Australian poets who
Graham Kennedy was an eyes-popping perfectionist, a subversive pre-feminist, a rebel without any trousers on.
By Kerryn Goldsworthy
Among the many thousands of words written in the days after Graham Kennedy died, one memory recurred like a refrain: Kennedy’s uncanny gift for TV. “Because it was a new medium,” said Stuart Wagstaff, “very few people knew how to handle it; for some inexplicable reason, Graham did.” John Mangos, the last person to
The battle for the Timor Sea, home of oil, gas, hot air and hope
By Tony Clifton
There are plenty of reasons. One is that only six years ago Indonesian troops were looting, burning and murdering their former subjects because they had the temerity to vote for Timor to become an independent country. Another is that before Indonesia’s 24-year reign the Portuguese, as colonial masters, had neglected
By John Birmingham
Brendan Nelson, John Howard’s education minister, did a funny thing a while back. Funny strange, that is, not funny ha-ha. He apologised to an opponent. Even stranger was the choice of enemy upon whom he bestowed this rare benevolence: Tony Windsor, independent MP for New England and bête noire of Nationals leader
By Celina Ribeiro
Rebecca Smith, 16, broke curfew. She knew she was going to be late and she knew her mother, Janelle, would be sitting at home waiting. She knew her mother would not understand. She didn’t care. She stayed at her church youth group until the last prayer. And so, Rebecca Smith was grounded.Early next Sunday morning,
By John Harms
On the cover of the first Australian edition of Vice, a free street magazine published about once a month, a bloodied rat lay dead on a metal floor. Inside were lots of cool ads – for Pants General Co, Zoo York, K-Swiss, freedom.of.choice and Asahi beer – aimed at the cashed-up youth market. The content came mostly
'Kayang & Me' by Kim Scott and Hazel Brown; 'Balanda' by Mary Ellen Jordan
By Inga Clendinnen
A few years back Kim Scott wrote a novel about being of mixed descent in a racially divided society.Benang: From the Heart was a stunning exercise in actuality transfigured by imagination. In Kayang & Me (Fremantle Arts Centre Press, 270pp; $29.95), Scott subdues his formidable literary talents to set down, extend
As destitute universities count their pennies, students at one Australian institution count their blessings
By Charles Firth
It is seven years since I finished up at the University of Sydney, where there were 30 times the number of students ADFA has and yet no pastry chef. How times have changed. Or have they? A quick survey reveals that ADFA stands alone as the only university campus in Australia to employ an in-house pastry chef. Staff at
Dobbing on Dr Raad
By Nicholas Shakespeare
It was a late April morning in 2001 and my wife had taken our seven-month-old son to the Swansea surgery for a routine jab – the final set of shots for whooping cough, diphtheria and tetanus. This was the first week of the new doctor and she was curious to see what he was like, or even if he would be there. It’s hard
Tomorrow's Liberal leaders have issues with gays, greenies, young mums, Malcolm Fraser - and each other
By Chloe Hooper
James Stevens, however, stands back, hands on hips. He is the 21-year-old president of the South Australian Young Liberals, a tanned, handsome man, and he wears Cadbury’s regulation hair-cover and a serious expression. In his shiny black business shoes and rolled shirtsleeves he looks to be here on official
By Paul Daffey
As footy-mad youngsters, the Krakouer brothers’ inventive quest to improve their Aussie Rules skills included practising over the kitchen table in the family home at Mount Barker, WA. While their father Eric, one of several quiet heroes in this sad and stirring story, sips his tea after a hard day’s shearing, the two
Still comfortable but relaxed no more in John Howard's Australia
By John Birmingham
The feeling that it was a good town to leave was only confirmed when I returned a decade later to cover the freak show that the rest of the country knew as Pauline Hanson and One Nation. I can’t recall which magazine sent me up there, but I remember only too well picking up a copy of the local newspaper, The
By Mungo MacCallum
When a new Australian magazine invites me to reminisce about old Australian magazines I have worked for, it has either a lot of courage or a shocking grasp of my history. True, I have written for so many weeklies, fortnightlies, monthlies and quarterlies over the years that an envious colleague once commented I had

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