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Bryce Courtenay, conspiracies and campfire cooking: the best Australian books out in August

Bryce Courtenay, conspiracies and campfire cooking: the best Australian books out in August

The Guardiana day ago
Biography, HarperCollins, $49.99
Part two of David Day's biography of Bob Hawke, chronicling his years as Labor's longest-serving prime minister, is no less forensic and revealing than the first instalment which traced him from birth to the precipice of the top job.
Hawke, given all the reform that he and his long-serving (and -suffering) treasurer Paul Keating oversaw is rightly remembered as a 'great' prime minister – a 'legend', as Day puts it. He quit the grog. And apparently gave up the women. But Day reveals a PM beset by familial turmoil while presenting a newly curated public persona. This is a must if you read the compelling first volume. – Paul Daley
Nonfiction, Allen & Unwin, $34.99
Shark. Camera. Action! Decades before the fin‑flashing brilliance of Jaws, pulp novelist Zane Grey sailed into Australia chasing a great white for his ill‑fated 1936 film White Death. In The Last Days of Zane Grey, the acclaimed nature writer Vicki Hastrich charts the arc of that quest – the role Australia played in Grey's restless final chapter, and the unlikely mark he left on the national imagination.
This swashbuckling tale has it all: encrypted letters, love quadrangles, high‑society hi-jinks, very big fish, cinematic fiascos and a man in a duel with death itself. Proof that sometimes the wildest thing in the water is the human ego. – Beejay Silcox
Fiction, Allen & Unwin, $32.99
Rebecca Starford is rapidly becoming one of our most gripping writers: first there was Bad Behaviour, her memoir of bullying at an elite country boarding school, then her second world war thriller The Imitator, about a female MI5 spy tasked with infiltrating a Nazi ring in London.
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Her third book, The Visitor, is quieter but just as riveting: Laura, an Australian living in the UK, returns home to Brisbane to sell her parents' house after they mysteriously die in the outback. That mystery is part of the appeal but its gothic quality, its spooky sense of the uncanny, are what sets The Visitor apart – and the ending is a cracker. – Sian Cain
Biography, Hachette, $32.99
The late Bryce Courtenay was a mainstay in Australian publishing: every 18 months or so he would release a new novel and dads everywhere would reliably buy his latest doorstopper about brave young men navigating wartime or the winds of history, making him one of the country's bestselling authors.
But the version of his life that he shared with the public was largely untrue, according to his son Adam, who reveals that his father was a fabulist who lied about being an orphan, that he escaped orphanages by winning a prestigious scholarship, that his lawyer father had fought apartheid in South Africa and that he himself had to flee the country due to his activism. This is a truly revelatory biography, unflinching and unsentimental, which shows how Bryce became a man who wouldn't let truth ruin a good story. – SC
Fiction, Ultimo, $34.99
Zaid is a prospective barrister who has broken through the glass ceiling, as a Muslim man from western Sydney. He's well-travelled, owns a luxury car, and attends swanky soirees with wealthy colleagues. But when he is pulled into a murky murder committed by his now-dead best friend, he's forced to reckon with his choices and the way they have shaped his life.
Zaynab Gamieldien's second novel is a subtle social commentary about belonging and social mobility. Compelling and pacy, it demonstrates an acute awareness of experiences of privilege and subordination, without being preachy. – Sarah Ayoub
Fiction, UQP, $34.99
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Natalia Figueroa Barroso's debut, Hailstones Fell Without Rain – the first published novel by a Uruguayan-Australian author – follows the unforgettable Graciela: a single mother who's late on rent, struggling to hold her family together and hiding a new couch she can't afford. As her bonds with her daughter Rita and her Aunt Chula stretch, fray, and threaten to snap, she grasps for connections that might still be mended.
Moving between Uruguay and western Sydney, this bold and compassionate novel celebrates matrilineal connection and cultural inheritance with humour and tenderness. – Seren Heyman-Griffiths
Fiction, Summit Books, $34.99
There's a crime, but it's not a crime novel as such; the pace is thrilling, but it's not a thriller … as such. Paul Daley's fine literary sensibilities foreground his genre-defying third novel about a stranger in a strange land. Ben Fotheringham-Gaskill, a British diplomat who has had his fair share of traumatic postings, believes his move to Canberra with his family will be a late-career cruise. But when his boss sends him to the outback town The Leap, things take a dangerous turn as he wrestles with a dilemma involving the possible murder of one of the town's favourite daughters.
With echoes of the Kenneth Cook classic Wake in Fright, Daley renders the picaresque with precision and humour, steadily building mood and menace as Australia's bloody black/white history comes into play. – Lucy Clark
Short stories, Pink Shorts Press, $32.99
Alex Cothren teaches creative writing at Flinders University, with a research focus on satire – and his debut collection of short stories is so assured, bleak and uncannily prescient that they could have been written tomorrow. In one, a headhunter for an Australian football league drafts refugees at offshore processing camps to play brutally – often murderously ('six points for knocking a bloke unconscious' – for the ultimate prize: citizenship). In another, which I read in June as mass protests against Immigration and Customs Enforcement were making headlines in the US, undocumented migrants in a single file are forced into a small construction trailer, which flashes in an 'instant e-deportation', disappearing them for ever.
But the one that's stuck with me for the longest is, happily, the funniest. It's called Where's a Good Place for an Adult to Hide? I won't tell you anything more about it. – Steph Harmon
Cookbook, Pantera Press, $36.99
The internet's favouritegrandson-grandfather duo have arrived in paperback form to share their tasty and easy-to-follow collection of bush-style recipes. Good food is simple food (most of the time), says Outback Tom, a Yorta Yorta man who grew up in the east Kimberley region of Western Australia. It is there we learn how to cook Australian staples including damper, spring rolls and loaded snags.
Outback Tom and Grandad also share tips on the logistics of cooking in the bush. Learn how to make a bush stove and what native ingredients to keep an eye out for, courtesy of the duo's wealth of experience living off the land. Make sure this is in your bag on your next adventure. – Isabella Lee
Nonfiction, Simon & Schuster, $36.99
Grant Dooley and his wife, Kristan, had a ringside seat to a tumultuous time in Australia's most populous neighbour, Indonesia. Both were stationed in Jakarta as diplomats during a period of frequent terrorist activity, including the 2004 bombing of the Australian embassy, which killed 11 people and injured 200; the Dooleys were in the building at the time.
Dooley's workmanlike memoir of this early 2000s period reads as a journal of the daily life and career ambitions of a bureaucrat abroad. It is an insightful glimpse into the thoughts and experiences of the Australians who represent the rest of us to the world. – Celina Ribeiro
Nonfiction, Ultimo, $36.99
Guardian Australia's Ariel Bogle and Crikey's Cam Wilson have spent years reporting on the follies and foibles of the internet. In that time both have witnessed first-hand the increasingly siloed – and increasingly dangerous – tenor of online life.
'We've watched closely as once-fringe ideas and the language of conspiracy have become part of [the] Australian public,' the pair write in the introduction to their new book: a series of investigations into the rhizomic subcultures and panics buried just beneath the nation's psyche, from Port Arthur 'truthers' to Pete Evans. – Michael Sun
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Prince Andrew: A tale of lust, avarice and poo cushions
Prince Andrew: A tale of lust, avarice and poo cushions

Telegraph

time4 minutes ago

  • Telegraph

Prince Andrew: A tale of lust, avarice and poo cushions

It is not unprecedented for members of the Royal family to get rather carried away sexually. Edward VII had some disgusting sort of chair made so that, despite his girth, he could carry on with tarts in Paris. Edward VIII lost the throne through the allure of an American divorcee. The present Duke of Sussex went through a similar process, though without having a throne to lose. And now, according to Andrew Lownie (the author of biographies of other odd royalty, such as the Duke and Duchess of Windsor), Prince Andrew, Duke of York, 'is supposed to have slept with over 1,000 women'. Who, I wonder, was counting? An unnamed source says that the Duke slept with half a dozen women before he was 13. That sounds like child abuse. But is it true? Excess is the motif of Entitled. The Duke is turned into an oafish version of Sir Epicure Mammon, the hyperbolic character in a Ben Jonson play who dreams of eating 'the swelling unctuous paps of a fat pregnant sow, newly cut off'. Actually, the deadly sins allocated to Andrew are lust and avarice. In the book it's his former wife, Sarah, Duchess of York, who is left with spendthrift gluttony. According to a sacked staff member in 2010, 'every night she demands a whole side of beef, a leg of lamb and a chicken, which are laid out on the dining room table like a medieval banquet'. Does he realise that a side of beef is half a cow: chuck, rib, brisket, shank, sirloin, fillet, rump, the lot? Talk about a groaning board. Returning from New York from promoting her Budgie books, the Duchess had 51 pieces of excess baggage containing newly bought clothes and gifts. She was nicknamed by the press as 'Her Royal Excess'. Piling up the carvery plate of royal excess makes Entitled less, not more, plausible. It is also indigestible for the reader. No unkindness is too small to throw into the pot. The Duke is often rude to inferiors (almost everyone). Boris Johnson is quoted as saying that another lunch with the Prince might make him a republican. One of his dates said: 'He tells the most pathetic jokes. He finds poo cushions funny.' I didn't quite know what a poo cushion was. I thought it might be a whoopie cushion. But more likely it means a cushion bearing the likeness of a piled turd. The notorious and tragic accompaniment of Randy Andy's sex mania was the suicide in prison of his erstwhile friend Jeffrey Epstein and the suicide this year of Virginia Giuffre, aged 41. She had reached an out-of-court settlement with the Duke, who she claimed had sex with her aged 17 after a meeting at the Belgravia house of Ghislaine Maxwell, now in jail. 'Ghislaine served tea from a porcelain pot and biscuits,' is one of the more banal touches in her account, here, of that meeting. According to one of the Duke's friends, meeting Epstein was like 'putting a rattlesnake in an aquarium with a mouse'. The Prince may have been the mouse, but it was Epstein who died. So pumped up is this biography, that I was surprised to find no suggestion from an anonymous source that Prince Andrew bored Epstein's prison guards into a deep sleep with his conversation and then strangled him with his mouse-like grip. As it is, what made the public think the Duke is not a very nice man was his own testimony in the celebrated BBC interview in 2019 – the one in which he declared that he didn't sweat. Now an unnamed Buckingham Palace employee says that if the full extent of the Duke's involvement with Epstein came out, 'I think the British public would try to impeach the Royal Family.' I don't even know what that is supposed to mean. In the Middle Ages, peers could be impeached and tried by the House of Lords, and Warren Hastings was impeached and acquitted in 1795. I'd love to see it done again. It would probably resemble the trial of the Knave of Hearts in Alice in Wonderland. That's fiction. Entitled is meant to be fact. But it gets nowhere near the bottom of the psychology of the Duke of York, the 'spare' to our present King. As an infant he was known as Baby Grumpling and even his mother the Queen found him 'not always a little ray of sunshine about the house'. Most curiously, 60 years on and more, he lives in the same (big) house as the Duchess, 29 years after their divorce.

I'd never wear budgie smugglers – but I did once help smuggle a budgie
I'd never wear budgie smugglers – but I did once help smuggle a budgie

The Guardian

time2 hours ago

  • The Guardian

I'd never wear budgie smugglers – but I did once help smuggle a budgie

Incredibly, given all the trouble in the world, we were short of an item or two on my BBC radio show recently. Someone suggested something about budgie smugglers coming back into fashion. Hardly very Reithian, is it? On the other hand, we all need a break from the dark stuff. And anyway, it turned out there was plenty in the budgie smugglers story with which to inform, educate and entertain our listeners. For a start, we needed to define the term. I'd been banging on about budgie smugglers on the radio all morning when I got a text from my mum demanding I explain what the devil these budgie smugglers were. In fact, she was so unfamiliar with the term that she spelt it phonetically using her Croatian keyboard, which renders it 'bađi smagles'. So, to be clear, we're talking men's swimwear, with bađi smagles being the tight, not-leaving-much-to-the-imagination style, as distinct from rather more modest swimming shorts which, mercifully, have become the norm. The tight ones had fallen out of favour but now, someone read somewhere, they were making a comeback. Eyewateringly tight swimming pants have been referred to as budgie smugglers for barely a quarter of a century, the description originating in a 1998 Australian television series called The Games, which satirised the 2000 Sydney Olympics. We can only wonder what kind of twisted mind came up with it, or indeed what kind of gentleman's arrangement they saw that looked as if there might have been a couple of budgerigars down there. I for one have never seen such a thing and certainly have no desire to. I can't get past the thought of some fella, engaged in rearranging things, inadvertently releasing a couple – or would it be three? – relieved budgies, freeing them to live better lives. If the fashion comeback is for real, it'll be good news for the Australian brand, Budgy Smuggler. Shame on them for the spelling but we'll let that pass. Their website says they are 'On a mission to free the thighs of the world'. That's an interestingly demure take on the purpose of their gear. I've always taken these things to be less about freeing anything and more about a) packing things up rather too snugly and b) showing off what there is to be proud of, including, but not restricted to, the thighs. I, needless to say, am very much a swimming shorts man. If you'd given the matter any thought, I hope you'd have reached this conclusion. Take any man, and it's clear which way they lean when it comes to swimwear. Ronaldo's a smuggler all day long. I'd be staggered if a single pair of swimming shorts had ever seen the inside of his wardrobe. Lionel Messi, on the other hand, shorts all the way. Have a Google of this and you'll see I'm right. There is, to be fair, the odd shot of Ronaldo in shorts, but only in ones tailored tight enough to suggest that some kind of smuggling operation is indeed under way. Messi, though, is 100% standard shorts, bless him. In politics I have our prime minister in shorts, as is only right and proper. The only male member of the cabinet I can see in smugglers is Hilary Benn, for some reason. Across the floor, I can imagine Robert Jenrick keeping him company. Nigel Farage, shorts. Lee Anderson, definitely smugglers. Feel free to play this game at home. On the radio I was enjoying myself no end with all this when a listener texted in alleging that in France, budgie smugglers are mandatory! How I laughed! But it's true. Jump into a public pool wearing shorts and you'll be hauled right back out. Hygiene reasons, apparently. I'd have thought that shorts, allowing a bit more freedom and ventilation, would be healthier. But the logic is that you might have been in shorts all day before getting in the pool, whereas you're unlikely, even in France, to have been a man about town in your contrebandiers de perruches. You may by now be wondering if my level of interest in all this is entirely healthy. Well, the truth is, I once had a hand in a budgie-smuggling operation – that is, the smuggling of an actual budgie. I'm not proud of it, but it's time to come clean. In mitigation, this was in the 1970s and I was but a child. Auntie Lily and Uncle Sid, Lily being my grandad's sister, had long lived in Perth, Australia. But now they decided to live out their days back in Birmingham. They brought with them a budgerigar called Timmy. Timmy was a most excellent budgie. He'd tilt his head in a sweet way when whistled to, say the odd word, and fly around the front room without crapping everywhere. They loved Timmy. We all loved Timmy. But Lily and Sid didn't love life back in Birmingham, so resolved to return to Perth. Disastrously though, the rules were such that Timmy wouldn't be allowed back into Australia. Disaster. Lily – pardon the slight pun – hatched a plan. She'd smuggle Timmy back to Oz in her handbag. The Timmy training commenced. Day by day we accustomed him to ever longer periods of handbag time which, being a prince among budgies, he soon got the hang of. During the flight Lily planned to feed him and let him out for a quick flap when she went to the toilet. Departure day dawned. The jeopardy was very real. If, God forbid, they were rumbled and Timmy was to be confiscated, Lily even had with her something with which to euthanise him. Quite where she sourced this budgie poison, I know not. But off they went on a flight that still feels like the longest flight I've ever taken, even though I wasn't on it. The wait was awful. Then a three-word telegram arrived: 'All is well.' Oh, the joy. And the three of them lived happily ever after. I am now bracing myself for letters about some ghastly avian health calamity that subsequently came to pass down under, with the finger pointing at our Timmy as budgie zero. Please let it not be so. If it is, as my penance, I'll wear nothing but budgie smugglers, in and out of the water, for the rest of my days. Do you have an opinion on the issues raised in this article? If you would like to submit a response of up to 300 words by email to be considered for publication in our letters section, please click here.

Jackson Warne reveals how his late father Shane inspired his surprise new career move: 'It's therapy for me'
Jackson Warne reveals how his late father Shane inspired his surprise new career move: 'It's therapy for me'

Daily Mail​

time4 hours ago

  • Daily Mail​

Jackson Warne reveals how his late father Shane inspired his surprise new career move: 'It's therapy for me'

Jackson Warne has revealed how his new career move is 'therapy' to help him cope with the loss of his father, Shane Warne. The 26-year-old has launched his new podcast, Warnes Way, and explains how he pays tribute to his dad on set. 'We've got a studio we've set up which is in dad's old office so it feels like he's there,' Jackson told the Herald Sun. 'We've got all his memorabilia, his book, his ashtray, it's really special.' Jackson says that he and his dad had originally planned to do a father-and-son podcast together back in 2018, but it never happened. With guests who knew his dad - such as Eddie McGuire and Mark Howard - Jackson says the podcast has served as a means of healing his grief. 'I'm also treating it as a bit of therapy for me,' the professional poker player said. 'I don't see a therapist but when I talk to people like Mark Howard and Eddie McGuire it's so personal and we talk about stories with dad.' Jackson announced the new podcast in an Instagram post earlier this week. 'First episode goes live Monday the 11th of August. Listen and watch on YouTube and Spotify,' he explained in his caption. Guests will include Aaron Finch and Andrew Bassat. The podcast is edited and filmed by Jackson's girlfriend, Kiah Broadsmith. Legendary cricketer Shane Warne died aged 52 from a heart attack while on holiday in Koh Samui, Thailand. It comes after Jackson revealed a personal victory on Instagram, having committed to an entire year without alcohol following his cricket star father's death. In an inspiring display of resilience, he chose to honour his father's memory not with sorrow, but with a dedication to health and clarity. Jackson shared the goal he set for himself at the start of 2023, to remain alcohol-free for the whole year. He wanted to demonstrate a healthier way to cope with life's hardships, especially after experiencing the immense loss of his beloved father. After his father tragically died, Jackson said he could've let his grief ruin him and instead set out on a journey of wellness. He decided to focus on his health, and to channel his trauma into 'energy for life' and was delighted with how much progress he made. Jackson revealed the fruits of his gym labours, admitting that he had shed an impressive 15kg. It wasn't without struggle though, with Jackson revealing his biggest barrier to weight loss success - fast food. 'I miss Maccas,' Jackson admitted.

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