Non Fiction
When Take Me to Paris, Johnny was first published in 1993, the AIDS crisis seemed to be at its worst. Many of us had friends and acquaintances who were dying. One began to notice men who, thin and haggard, one feared were suffering from AIDS (women victims being relatively few in number). There was no sign of the drug therapies that would, towards the end o ...
A Little America in Western Australia: The US Naval Communication Station at North West Cape and the Founding of Exmouth by Anthony J. Barker and Michael L. Ondaatje
The Utility of Meaning: What Words Mean and Why by N.J. Enfield
Why Acting Matters by David Thomson & Great Shakespeare Actors by Stanley Wells
Lost Plays in Shakespeare's England edited by David McInnis and Matthew Steggle
Once, when it was the beginning of the dry but no one could have known it yet, Dad drove us west – out past ‘Jesus Saves’ signs nailed to box trees, past unmarked massacre sites and slumping woolsheds, past meatworks and red-bricked citrus factories with smashed windows, and past one-servo towns with faded ads for soft drinks no one makes anymore – until we reached a cotton farm.
We stood on the old floodplain listening to the manager in his American cap, a battery of pumps and pipes behind him, boasting how much water these engines could lift once the river reached a certain height. To the left, an open channel cut through laser-levelled fields to the horizon.
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