Oxford University Press

Henry Kissinger is one of the most fascinating, enigmatic, brilliant, paradoxical, and infuriating figures in recent US history. Born in Germany in 1923, he emigrated to the US with his family in 1938 and was naturalised in 1943. After army service and picking up a Harvard PhD, he became an academic there and an adviser to various think-tanks on global strategy and defence. He owed his introduction to government work, surprisingly, to Nelson Rockefeller, leader of the liberal wing of the Republican Party, but attained superstar status working for Rockefeller’s bête noire, Richard Milhous Nixon. He was Nixon’s Assistant for National Security Affairs 1969–75 and Secretary of State 1973–77, continuing under Gerald Ford after Nixon’s forced resignation over Watergate, in August 1974. He shared the 1973 Nobel Peace Prize with Le Duc Tho, who refused it for his efforts, premature as it turned out, to end the Vietnam War.

Manning Clark rescued Australian history from blandness and predictability by making Australia a cockpit in which the great faiths of Europe continued their battle, with results that were distinctive. He concentrated on the great characters who were bearers of one of the faiths: Protestantism, Catholicism, or the Enlightenment.

Modern Japanese Culture – what a seductive title! It evokes images of a fast-paced, technologically advanced nation with deep traditions reinventing itself as a post-industrial society with a rich culture. We immediately think of Kurosawa’s epic films, manga comics and anime, contemporary ceramics, video games, Issey Miyake’s extravaganzas, the sublime minimalism of Ando Tadao’s architecture, and the photography of Ishida Kiichiro, currently on display at the Museum of Sydney.

Both of the OUP First Books have been designed with the early reader in mind. Clear colourful pictures, large print and unambiguous headings make these books a pleasure to read. Information is set out in an orderly way, from the general to the specific. There is scope for enthusiasts to skip to their particular interest, but, for the general reader, the narrative as a whole is satisfying. Barbara Taylor’s First Book of Dinosaurs gives the basic facts that the six- or seven-year-old wants to know: what kind of animals were they, and how do we know they existed? A history is followed by general descriptions of behaviours and physical types, then double-spreads on featured groups such as the well-known T.rex and stegosaurus, as well as dromaeosaurs and kronosaurus. Extra information is contained in sidebars. The book concludes with speculation about what caused the dinosaurs to become extinct and with a look at their modern successors. There is a short dinosaur quiz (with specific instructions on how to read the questions for clues, and how to use the index and table of contents to find the answers). Some simple science experiments are suggested, such as making your own fossils with plaster of Paris and with shells. As well as the obligatory glossary and index, a page-long guide to pronunciation is appended: this will help many a bemused parent.

Recently, New South Wales had its fifth election since 1988 in which shrill law and order promises – tougher sentencing, more police, and the like – constituted the most prominent feature of the major parties’ campaigns. During those fifteen years, NSW witnessed its biggest prison-building programme in more than a century and a rise of more than fifty per cent in its prison population. An obvious lesson is that prison-building programmes and rising criminal justice expenditures do not reduce crime or enhance feelings of public safety and confidence in legal institutions, and that those who argue otherwise are chasing phantoms. Yet the terms of political discourse around law and order seem to be impervious to the facts. What would commonly be taken as incontrovertible evidence of the failure or limits of a policy in other areas yields more of the same in relation to crime control, such is the treadmill of penal populism.

Ever since Federation, Australians have heard of the Boer War, as they have heard of the Wars of the Roses. As to deep understanding, they have as much about the one war as about the other. As a ‘Matric’ student in 1939, I had for my Commercial Practice teacher a Boer War veteran – lean, tall, bowlegged – every schoolboy’s image of our horsemen who had taught the Empire’s enemies such a lesson in South Africa. Beguiled by eager juvenile diversionists, he would treat us to ten minutes of soldier anecdotes, straight from his saddle forty years earlier.

Amanda Laugesen’s Convict Words is a dictionary of the characteristic or salient words of early colonial discourse, the lexis of the convict system and transportation, which survived until 1840 in New South Wales, 1852 in Van Diemen’s Land, and 1868 in Western Australia. It is not immediately clear what sort of readership is envisaged for the book. It would not occur to many people interested in Australian colonial history to address the subject through the words the actors in that history used, and the book does not directly answer most of the questions the enquirer might have in mind, unless of course it were convictism itself. As for word-buffs, the limited range of the target lexis – convict words in this narrow sense, and not necessarily Australianisms – may not have suggested itself as an engrossing topic.

Reviewers often like to start with a simple statement of what a book is all about. In the present case, this is difficult, because there are two books within these covers. The first three chapters fit its subtitle, ‘The Story of the Australian National Dictionary’, while the next seven fit the title Lexical Images, being essays on aspects of Australian history and culture as reflected in the pages of the Australian National Dictionary (1988). If a single theme has to be extracted, it is that historical lexicography is a fascinating process, generating a valuable product.

Andrew Sayers has one large and important idea that distinguishes his account of Australian art from all others: the story must include equal attention to Aboriginal art and to the art of white European settlement. However commanding and commendatory the idea, it will not, I suspect, be a popular one.