By Katharine Leonarder

As a young and very naive eighteen-year-old I travelled to Africa to teach English in a small rural primary school. Needless to say I think the locals managed to teach me more about the local Ghanaian culture than I, in my unqualified and idealistic state, ever managed to teach the children about nouns or verbs. Until I opened Social work education: voices from the Asia Pacific, it had never occurred to me that I had been, albeit in a very small way, learning about something far broader and more complex than my young mind could fathom – social work.

Where typically a western-centric lens would dictate the shape of a text, the editors – Carolyn Noble, Mark Henrickson and In Young Han – have worked hard to maintain the cultural voice of the various regions represented in the text. Each chapter begins with an extract, first in English, then in the native language of the chapter’s author, followed by translations into Chinese, Japanese and Korean. The effort of maintaining these extracts in the various translations, despite the editing and translating problems that arose from the concept, is indicative of this book’s attempt to construct an honest and culturally sensitive voice in order to explore relevant issues.

Even though I don’t have a social work background, I still found this book to be insightful and thought provoking. The book makes no claims about having the answers to all the questions it asks, but manages to challenge preconceptions and provoke thought in the reader. Until opening its pages the daily challenges of language barriers, gender roles, sexual identities and human rights movements had never entered my mind. Most interesting is the balance between highly personalised voices and the academic content incorporated by each of the authors.

While most of us won’t become qualified social workers, our paths will at some point intersect with those who are, whether that be a chance meeting at a party, a challenging news article, or – like me – attempting to impart knowledge to a group of children from a different cultural context. Social work education is an insight into this world. For those who are practising social workers, this book challenges the nature of their profession and encourages its practitioners towards continuous reflection on their methods. Social work and education not only attempts to move beyond a western-centric concept of social work, but also raises questions about the very definition of what it means to be a social worker in a time of change and rapid growth, both specifically in the Asia Pacific region and implicitly in the rest of the world.

Katharine Leonarder is a graduate of a Bachelor of Arts who, like all good arts graduates, is currently working out what to do with her life. She spends large amounts of time eating chocolate and reading bad fantasy books, while waiting for her opportunity to marry for money.

By Monica Purcell

With thousands of protesters rallying outside Parliament House last month to stop amateur hunting in New South Wales’ national parks, issues regarding the purpose and ideals of our national parks and their visitors have once again come to a head. On the one hand, amateur hunters maintain their right to enjoy these parks just other members of the public do. However, public figures such as former NSW environment minister Bob Debus condemn the NSW Premier, Barry O’Farrell’s plans to allow amateur hunters to conduct ‘pest control’ in national parks, labelling them as ‘a deliberate attack’ on the environment. Organised groups of bushwalkers and various other stakeholders raise cries in concern for the safety of other park visitors. Today, Fairfax Media broke the news of a draft report recommending that ‘the government should “immediately” consider opening national parks and other reserved areas for logging to ensure the viability of the timber industry’. In light of such heated debate it is worth taking a moment to reflect on how responses to these issues have changed over time.

The Royal National Park was first opened for the purpose (as its Official Guide states) of providing ‘pure and invigorating [air] to the jaded citizen of Sydney or her suburbs’. The recreational value of the project was valued most highly in its founders’ belief that enhancing the health of the Australian citizen would in turn enhance the health of Australian society. As Claire Farrugia explores in her compelling essay, ideas of nation and what constitutes its ideal member are inevitably wrapped up in the idea of the ‘national park’ as we continue to question: who exactly are these parks for? And how should they behave while in them?

It wasn’t until the mid-20th century that the focus of park management in particular (but that of other interested parties as well, such as environmental activists) shifted from the health of a national park’s visitors to the health of the park itself. In her fascinating account Julia Bowes considers the issue of the campfire, investigating its sentimental and cultural significance for a variety of visitors of national parks and how this passionate attachment conflicts with the concerns of various park managers and environmentalists regarding the potential bushfires and environmental damage incurred by the practice. Indeed, the sole purpose of the national park remains a tense issue, with many still asking the same question: do national parks exist for our recreation or for the conservation of our land and wildlife? And can we possibly achieve a balance?

Nevertheless, our connection to and enjoyment of national parks remains an important but often underestimated factor in how we approach park management. And with larger environmental concerns looming, such as those regarding the effects of climate change, scholars such as those featured in Playing in the bush call for a major paradigm shift that unites how we understand nature with how we imagine our place within it.

Monica Purcell is in her final semester of an English literature and writing degree at Macquarie University. She is currently interning with Sydney University Press and hopes to one day become an editor and writer of new (and hopefully wonderful) Australian fiction.

By Lotte Chow

Republicans and lobbyists for gun manufacturers have been blamed for today’s defeat of new gun control measures in the US Senate, despite the public support for the legislation that aimed to expand background checks for firearms purchases. This debate over gun control in the US was restarted in the wake of the shootings in December 2012 when a gunman killed 20 children and six teachers in a primary school in the small US town of Newtown, Connecticut.

Following the Sandy Hook Elementary shootings, President Barack Obama vowed to use ‘whatever power this office holds’ to prevent similar atrocities being committed. Ironically, gun permit applications skyrocketed after the massacre. Obama proposed universal background checks on gun permits and a ban on assault rifles. The Second Amendment, along with difficulties of attaining federal reform in gun control, makes this a daunting task for the President.

After the Port Arthur massacre, debate swirled in Australia around the easy access to high-powered firearms by civilians. Gun-control advocacy groups lobbied for a minimum position on gun law reform, including uniform federal gun laws, proof of reason required for gun licences, registration of all sale, transfer and ownership of guns, and no lifetime licences. Thanks to strong community support, and to some extent bipartisan agreement, the Howard government passed the reforms, including a ban on the ownership, importation, sale or possession of semi-automatic rifles and pump-action shotguns.

The Australian experience is aptly and superbly documented in Simon Chapman’s Over our dead bodies: Port Arthur and Australia’s fight for gun control. First published in 1998 and now reprinted and available online via open access, the book is an insider’s view and a step-by-step account on how one incident – the Port Arthur killing – transformed gun laws in Australia.

Filled with thought-provoking statistics since the introduction of Australian gun law reform, the book points out that the US has 14 times Australia’s population but 69 times its gun deaths. In Columbia where guns are readily available, there are 167 male homicides per 100,000 persons. In Japan, which is known for strict gun laws, the rate is 0.7 per 100,000.

Well-researched and timeless, Over our dead bodies is packed with historic, legislative and global perspectives. This book was written with two groups of people in mind: those who wish to learn more about the after effects of Australia’s worst massacre and how it changed gun law in Australia, and those who wish to promote gun reform in other countries.

Lotte Chow is a Library and Information Services student interning at the University of Sydney Library. Previously she was a financial journalist reporting on the high life of stocks, investment banking and corporate restructuring.

Other than the occasional primary school retellings of the Ned Kelly tales and the odd jaunt through Old Sydney Town, most of us have never really spent much time thinking about our early national identity. The gold-rush, early explorers and 'red coats' are phenomena of which are, more often than not, left unthought of.

Needless to say, however, Australia has a unique and highly eccentric literary heritage. Henry Lawson, writer, poet and artist, lived in a much earthier Australia. His stories - with their easy Australian humour and vivid descriptions - encapsulate the world of early Australia; a bleak and expansive world of diggers, threadbare homesteads and the unobtrusive billy boiling in the corner.

In 1896 his publishers, Angus and Robinson, combined fifty-two of his short stories and sketches from various newspaper and magazine publications into one volume: While the billy boils. Lawson’s works, however, were modified and adapted to meet contemporary editorial standards, removing much of Lawson’s personal style, nuances and individuality from his writing.

Edited by Paul Eggert, While the billy boils: the original newspaper versions, reproduces Lawson’s work as it originally appeared in print. This new edition reproduces his works in chronological order, reflecting his growth and change as a writer. It showcases the unique style in which Lawson originally wrote his works, deftly portraying the speech and humour of his characters through idiosyncratic spelling and syntax.

In conjunction with this reproduction, Eggert has also written Biography of a book: Henry Lawson’s While the billy boils, which explores the publication of While the billy boils in the complicated landscape of the newly forged Australian publishing industry. Eggert traces the difficult production of Lawson’s work through the murky waters of editing, copyright and royalties.

Lawson captures the bleakness and raw humanity of the Australian people of the time. At once sensitive, realistic, hilarious, alcoholic and poverty-stricken, Lawson himself was a confusing and contrasting picture of the Australian identity at the turn of the century. Through While the billy boils, and Biography of a book: Henry Lawson’s While the billy boils, we can gain a greater understanding of how the modern Australian identity was formed.

By Jacqui Shilson-Josling

In my time studying at the University of Sydney, I have always taken for granted the existence of the large and well respected Faculty of Science. I, like most of my fellow science students, had never stopped to think how I would attain my degree if the University did not have a science faculty. That is, until I read the fascinating account of the life of Archibald Liversidge and his countless contributions to the University of Sydney and the wider field of science in Australia.

The work of Archibald Liversidge may also be seen in numerous other areas which we now take for granted. He was an original member of the Board of Technical Education, which was assigned by the state government to run Sydney Technical College. The college established classes throughout the city of Sydney and surrounding suburbs, in both vocational and academic areas. The technical college grew rapidly, and it slowly evolved into what we now know as TAFE NSW.

As well as his direct contributions to scientific education, Archibald Liversidge was also involved with the establishment of several museums. He undertook a tour of Europe’s leading universities, museums and technical colleges, and in 1880 published a Report upon certain museums for technology, science and art. This report helped to establish the Industrial, Technological and Sanitary Museum, the collection of which forms the basis of the present Powerhouse Museum.

Sadly, for many years after his death in 1927, the legacy Archibald Liversidge left went largely unnoticed. Roy MacLeod attributes this is part to the ‘relegation of geology and mineralogy to the academic sidelines’ until the mid-20th century. The scientific history books tend to focus on those who have made critical discoveries or observations, or who have ‘effects’, ‘rules’, or ‘constants’, named after them, and Liversidge refrained from entering into theoretical debate of this kind. Thankfully, in recent years, the image of Liversidge has been re-awakened as one of a man well ahead of his time, whose legacy can be seen in the institutions, museums and associations to which he gave his time.

In this illuminating read, Macleod does a great service to one of Australia’s most prolific yet unrecognised scholars. Historical documents and quotations, along with photographs, diagrams and illustrations provide an interesting adjunct to the story of a man who unselfishly and purposefully devoted his life to science. Among many other achievements, Archibald Liversidge was a pioneer in the establishment of the Faculty of Science at the University of Sydney, which has helped shape the education of thousands of science students, like myself, well into the 21st century.

Jacqui Shilson-Josling is in her final semester of a Bachelor of Liberal Studies, and is interning at Sydney University Press. She enjoys all varieties of books, tea and cats indiscriminately.

By Lauren Maule

I think every university student remembers the overwhelming feeling of starting their first university degree. Everything seems so different from high school – the atmosphere, the students, the teachers, the rules, the assignments. One of the biggest differences, and the one hardest to wrap your head around, is writing essays. For one, the sheer number of them, all different types with various requirements. After completing a bachelor’s degree you finally feel as though you have a handle on what academic essays should be and how to conquer the process of writing them. Of course, having this knowledge at the end of your degree hardly helps you during it.

Academic Writing Is … is an informative and engrossing read, written by an expert on the subject who guides students in improving both their process and their technique for essay writing. It is a must-have for all students who want to improve their academic writing.

Lauren Maule is a graduate of the Master of Publishing at the University of Sydney. She is an aspiring writer and editor, and has an unhealthy addiction to fantasy novels.

By Bronwyn O'Reilly

The most popular insult of the moment – in Australian politics, anyway – is for politicians to label their opponents ‘sexist’. Tony Abbott’s rejection of the RU-486 abortion pill back in 2005 when he was Health Minister has come back to haunt him. Abbott continues to maintain that he did not approve the use of RU-486 because of advice from the Chief Medical Officer that use of the pill was significantly more dangerous than surgical termination. This was despite the Australian Medical Association’s approval, and even though the pill was already in use in many countries around the world.

Dr Norman Haire, sexologist, practised at a time when sex and sexuality – woman’s sexuality in particular – were taboo topics. In the early years of the twentieth century (has it changed so much?), it was expected that a woman was to remain chaste before marriage; when she did marry, provide her husband with sexual pleasure while not necessarily receiving that pleasure herself; reject all methods of birth control; and give birth to a multitude of healthy babies. The questions that Haire asked of these expectations were shocking to the conservative, polite society of the time. Why must there be no sex before marriage when women and men mature sexually in their early teens? Why can there not be a trial-marriage period? Why must sexual pleasure of women be less of a priority than that of men? Why shouldn’t there be safe and easy for women to access birth-control products?

Norman Haire was born in 1892, as the eleventh, final, and unwanted child of upper-middle class parents who lived in the suburbs of Sydney. Later in life, Haire claimed to recollect running to and from the chemist as a child for his mother who, if she missed her period, would overdose on purgative Beecham’s pills. As unreliable and unsafe as this method was, this may have been the most accessible method of abortion available at a time when contraceptives were very difficult to access.

As a child, Norman Haire attended Fort Street Public School, where none of the school teachers uttered a single word about sex or reproduction, and where all sex-education was furtively self-taught and often misguided. Here Haire thrived as an extroverted and popular boy. He began to test his oratory skills as a debater and get a taste for acting, a career that he wanted to pursue, but that wasn’t at all what his father and mother had envisaged for him. It was during these formative years that Haire began to suspect that he was somewhat different to the rest of his school crowd. Although even in his later life he never admitted it openly, Haire was homosexual. In Norman Haire and the study of sex, Diana Wyndham suspects that it was the suppression of his sexuality that made him sympathetic towards the sexual suppression of others.

When Haire graduated from school, he chose to please his parents by studying medicine at the University of Sydney. From there, he worked in the Australian Army Medical Corps in Liverpool, then in Newcastle hospital, where he worked to increase the cleanliness and infection-control procedures of the hospital. It was from the Newcastle hospital that he was forced to resign in disgrace over misleading reports that he had not followed the hospital’s infections-control procedures in an outbreak of pneumonic influenza.

Although humiliating, this prompted his escape to London where he began his career as a sexologist. Haire started his own medical practice, joined the British Society for the Study of Sex Psychology and met Havelock Ellis, who remained a trusted friend and mentor throughout Haire’s life. He also met with other prominent sexologists and leaders of the birth-control movement such as Marie Stopes, Margaret Sanger, Karl Giese, Norman Himes, Magnus Hirschfeld and Dora Russell. It was with these leaders in the field that Haire collaborated, on hugely successful conferences and lecture series about safe methods of birth control – including the Haire pessary – and common misconceptions about birth control.

After a few years of increasing success, Haire became fascinated with the idea of the sexual ‘rejuvenation’ of middle-aged and elderly men. He performed the rejuvenation procedure on such prominent members of society as WB Yeats. These procedures made him quite a bit of money, some of which he used to open the Cromer Welfare and Sunlight Centre, which focused on preventing vitamin D deficiency in children in the poorer areas of London.

During the war, Haire returned to Australia and worked in his own medical practice and as a sex-advice writer for the magazine Woman. He caused controversy by encouraging sex education for young people, including contraception, and countering the popular opinion that Australia could only succeed by significantly increasing its population through large families.

He moved back to London after the war, where he died in 1952 after a period of illness. Throughout his life, Haire had been a prolific writer and editor, publishing such practical and educational books as Birth-control methods, Marriage hygiene, and Everyday sex problems. Upon his death, his papers, books and a large bequest were given to the University of Sydney. The University Library’s Rare Books Collection now holds the material.

Norman Haire and the study of sex follows the life of this incredibly brave and daring Australian who supported the sexual freedom of all. What seems to be particular poignant today is his championing the reproductive rights of women and the control of women’s bodies by women.

Norman Haire and the study of sex will be launched by the Hon. Michael Kirby, AC CMG on 3 December 2012 at 6PM.

Bronwyn O'Reilly is an editor who enjoys writing almost - but not quite - as much as she enjoys reading. Her current obsession is with nineteenth-century detective fiction.

By Sophie Watt

When I was a child, my parents dragged me all over the Australian countryside to develop “an appreciation for Australia’s history” by visiting colonial houses, convict-built bridges and, in some sad cases, the crumbling ruins of what was once a proud part of our country’s heritage. While it impressed on me how little choice I had in my own history schooling, it did open a rich world of heritage-listed architecture built well before my time, and demonstrated what it stood for.

But have you ever wondered who decides whether that run-down cottage you drive by, or the sandstone bridge you walk over, survives modern development? Or how much this heritage conservation costs?

In the last 20 years there has been an increase in the number of heritage-listed properties and, as Tony Gilmour highlights, many of these heritage listings have been put in place with little or no public discussion over the land rights, financial upkeep or what purpose that property will serve. Australia does seem to be improving in terms of heritage conservation but is our history being privatised for commercial revenue rather than cultural education?

It seems ironic to think how a building that once housed dirt-poor colonial farmers is now a subject of profit discussion, but, as Tony Gilmour investigates, some companies are insensitively exploiting the rich history of Australia for financial gain. Sustaining heritage: giving the past a future illuminates issues of contemporary heritage for urban planners, conservationists, opinion makers and the general public so that informed decisions can be made as to whether a deteriorating structure is worth its weight culturally or should be used as fire wood.

This book is not simply a one-sided debate to conserve every slightly rustic, oh-so-quaint, crumbling tin shed that may have housed a vague historic figure in the past, but an in-depth analysis of why we conserve what we do and how it affects contemporary society.

Sophie Watt is a journalist who, like many other book lovers, wishes she was born in the pages of an adventure novel. She consoles herself by reading any chance she gets, usually with a pot of tea by her side and absolutely no thought of where she is supposed to be and at what time.

By Desiree Conceicao

In World War 2 dolphins were trained to place explosives on the hulls of ships, dogs were used as antitank operatives, and pigeons were trained to guide missiles − although the birds’ skills ultimately were never called upon. Examples abound throughout history of animals doing weird and wonderful things that we would never expect or imagine. Ancient Egyptian paintings show hyenas (which we know from Lion King are not easily submissive) on their backs, being hand fed by humans. Animals as unexpected as guinea pigs and geese have been used as guards to warn of intruders. Dogs working with anti-terrorism forces are sent case samples to be scrutinised for their expert opinion.

They explain how blue tits in the UK during the 1930s learned to peck through milk bottle tops to reach the cream, and supplement their section on instrumental conditioning with the example of Rocky, an Irish draught horse who learned to unlock the bolt on his stable door, but who would not escape if the door was replaced simply by a weak chain - suggesting that the reinforcer to his behaviour wasn’t the opportunity to escape, but the ability to view the events occurring at his busy show-jumping home.

Four chapters comprising the section on the general principles of animal training are followed by detailed case files of various animals that have been taught unusual behaviours, documenting the methods used and their results. From elephants trained to paint a canvas and octopi opening bottles, to tricycling macaws and magpies that actually place litter in bins; the cases are both amusing and educational and offer fantastic advice for animal owners, trainers, veterinarians and those who are simply animal enthusiasts.

Featuring a wealth of amusing anecdotes, extensive photographic and diagrammatic material, and written to be a light, easy read − this is a book both amusing and educational, and definitely enjoyable to read.

Desiree Conceicao is a writer and a total and utter bibliophile. She is also incidentally a terribly opinionated feminist and liberal who would someday like to rule the world, but probably won't get that far due to her habit of falling asleep in the middle of whatever she's doing.

See also Review of 'Reflections & Voices'

By Desiree Conceicao

I remember as a child, that I once flicked on the television to see a group of men performing what looked like a traditional Aboriginal dance, to what sounded like non-traditional Aboriginal dance music.

As I realised later, this wasn’t a new song. Released in 1991, ‘Treaty’ was the first big hit for the legendary Australian band Yothu Yindi, and while it only peaked at no. 11 on the ARIA charts, it climbed to no. 6 on the international Billboard charts and has been both an anthem and requiem for the Aboriginal rights movement.

A world where people with different cultural backgrounds, language and skin colours could exchange ideas and ways of doing things to create something new within a framework of equality, understanding and mutual respect.

Formed in Darwin in 1986 by an unusual assortment of Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal members, including a blind man and a school principal, Yothu Yindi’s very existence was a statement, a testament to their belief in respectful coexistence. Over the 21 years of their career they released a total of six albums and toured the globe extensively, including performing with the likes of Jodie Cockatoo, Peter Garrett, Paul Kelly and Neil Finn, and playing at events such as the Cultural Olympics in Seoul in 1988.

In Reflections & Voices, Aaron Corn has compiled a fascinating collection of interviews, photos and sheet music to augment Yothu Yindi’s story and explore the meanings behind their most popular songs, including ‘Djäpana: Sunset Dreaming’, ‘Mainstream’, ‘Treaty’, ‘Tribal Voice’, ‘Timeless Land’, ‘World Turning’, ‘Dots on the Shells’ and ‘Ghost Spirits’.

Child and mother. The meeting of different currents. The shared ancestry of all humanity. The living wisdom of those who have gone before. The struggle for justice against unsurmountable odds. And the future of another day. These are the values of equality, sharing and hope that colour Yothu Yindi’s music … They shifted the thinking of educators in the Northern Territory, and made it legitimate for Aboriginal school children there to learn in their own languages. They captured hearts in an Australia that proudly shed the harmful conceit of terra nullius, and they introduced Treaty to this nation’s political vocabulary.

This is not just the biography of a band. This is a celebration of the legacy that Yothu Yindi imparted.

Desiree Conceicao is a writer and a total and utter bibliophile. She is also incidentally a terribly opinionated feminist and liberal who would someday like to rule the world, but probably won't get that far due to her habit of falling asleep in the middle of whatever she's doing.

In 1870, Henry Chamberlain Russell became Government Astronomer for New South Wales and immediately began to prepare for detailed observations of the transit of Venus due to occur in 1874. Several sites were chosen for their weather conditions, and professional and amateur astronomers were sent to Goulburn, Eden, Woodford and the main observatory in Sydney. The observers included Professor Archibald Liversidge of the University, P. F. Adams, Surveyor-General, and Eccleston du Faur of the Survey Department, amongst others. Other observations were taken at Armidale and Raymond Terrace. The results of the observations were published by the Government Printer in 1892.

Sydney University Press has republished a facsimile of the book, including the 40 colour plates that include observations of the Transit from various locations, and photographs of the equipment used.

Transit of Venus 1874, by HC Russell

Following is an extract from the Introduction by Henry Russell.

...

The information I have collected about it is in some respects very remarkable. I refer to the rings of light and especially the halo seen surrounding the planet Venus, a conspicuous phenomenon seen by nearly all the observers in New South Wales. That it was a very brilliant and beautiful object will be made abundantly evident by the accounts which follow.

...

It will be seen that we have here three distinct phenomena. A broad ring of light outside the planet, a bright ring of light round that part of the planet projected on the sky, and band of light or shading round the inner edge of the planet, or over its surface. No spots, however, were seen on the planet, except the very remarkable part of the halo at the north pole.

The 200th anniversary of Charles Dickens’ birthday on 7 February set off the whole year of celebrations taking place throughout the world, including Australia. While Dickens is widely known a writer and a journalist, his role as an editor is rarely mentioned. Yet he spent close to 25 years in the editor’s chair mentoring a new generation of writers and shaping the way Australia was perceived overseas.

Dickens isn’t named as the author of any of the Australian stories that appeared in the Household Words, but as the editor and the Conductor he decided on the content and the style of writing that was published in his journal, and his personal interest and views are very much visible.

All the stories and articles published under Dickens’ editorship needed to conform to a strict editorial policy. As Gerald Giles Grubb wrote in 1945, Dickens was interested in writing about everyday life in a way that would be factual and accurate but at the same time entertaining. He despised plagiarism. He expected the contributions to be written in a popular language, but correct and sensitive so that in the words of Dickens 'no incident or expression occurs which could call a blush into the most delicate cheek or wound the feelings of the most sensitive person'. He wanted to reach the masses with a journal of high literary quality and morality in order 'to correct abuse and promote human happiness'.

If the contributions were not up to standard, they would be drastically revised and rewritten, and practically almost all submissions received some finishing touches. With so much minute attention to detail, it is hardly surprising that the stories and articles have a ‘Dickensy’ feel. His editing, criticism and encouragement helped to start the careers of many writers in Victorian England.

The Forthnightly Review has a reprint of a wonderful homage called 'Charles Dickens in the editor’s chair' by Percy Hetherington Fitzgerald. Originally published in the Gentleman’s Magazine in 1881, it is a delight to read and gives an insight into how Dickens worked as an editor. Here is a taste:

There were many little Household Words traditions. The “chief” himself always wrote with blue ink on blue paper. His was a singularly neat and regular hand, really artistic in its conception, legible yet not very legible to those unfamiliar with it. Here, as in everything else, was to be noted the perfect finish, as it might be styled, of his letter-writing the disposition of the paragraphs, even the stopping, the use of capitals, all showing artistic knowledge, and conveying excellent and valuable lessons. His “copy” for the printers, written as it is in very small hand, much crowded, is trying enough to the eyes, but the printers never found any difficulties. It was much and carefully corrected, and wherever there was erasure, it was done in thorough fashion, so that what was effaced could not be read.

When I was small, I really wanted to have a dog. And not just any dog, I wanted a German shepherd. It may have had something to do with a series that was run on Polish TV every summer about four tank-men and a dog who fought together as members of the 1st Polish Army during World War Two. The film (made in 1966-70), and the book it was based on, contained elements of pro-Soviet propaganda, as was the norm at the time. But as I was a kid the political overtones went straight over my head and I only saw the wonderful friendship between the central character and his dog, Szarik.

Hence my interest in animals has always been somewhat theoretical, interrupted by occasional trips to a zoo or a goat farm, encounters with a friendly neighbour's dog and native fauna (king parrots for example). Instead, I read about animals. I watch documentaries and films. Animal actors are amazing. For example, the German shepherd is an undisputed star of Inspector Rex. You should see Rex in action: chasing the criminals, saving lives, getting detectives out of trouble and playing pranks on the policemen. The work that must have gone to train the dogs acting in the series is unbelievable.

So how are dogs like Rex and Szarik and other animals trained to play in films, assist the blind, help the police, work on farms and do lots of other things? You can read all about it in our new release Carrots and sticks: principles of animal training by Paul McGreevy and Robert Boakes. It's a reprint, with a new cover design and in a hardback edition, of a highly successful book from Cambridge University Press (2008).

Written by a vet and a psychologist, Carrots and sticks contains a great blend of theory and practice. Paul is one of only three veterinarians recognised worldwide by the Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons as specialists in veterinary behavioural medicine. Bob specialises in the psychology of learning, and in particular experimental studies of associative learning in both animals and man.

In the first part of the book, the authors break down the principles of animal behaviour, behaviour modification, learning theories and animal intelligence. The second part of the book contains 50 cases based on interviews with 70 experienced animal trainers that demonstrate the use of positive and negative reinforcers, highlight the common pitfalls and the importance of timing and consistency for effective training of a huge variety of companion, performing, working and exotic animals.

Responsible ownership, positive reward-based training and a better understanding of animals are the key to reducing unpredictable behaviour and successful human-animal interactions. So if you work or live with animals or, like me, simply want to understand them better, this is a book for you. And you can read more about the book in:

Carrots and Sticks: the recipe for good animal training
ABC Radio National, In Conversation

Adler is calling for the government and the university sector to support the ‘traditional livelihood’ of four university presses: Melbourne University Publishing, UNSW Press, University of Western Australia Publishing and University of Queensland Press. The management of these four presses, by and large, abandoned the ‘traditional livelihood’ of academic monograph publishing years ago in an attempt to make the presses commercially viable and save them from closures. The transition into trade publishing was a visionary thing to do and the four presses have become established cultural institutions that contribute greatly to the intellectual life of Australia. But … these contributions rarely belong to the world of scholarly publishing as defined by the requirements of HERDC (Higher Education Research Data Collection) and ERA (Excellence of Research for Australia).

ANU ePress, Sydney University Press and Monash University Publishing (all active since 2003), to give just a few examples of the growing list of ‘e-presses’, publish close to 100 scholarly books a year and have an active backlist of over 700 titles. These books have been selected for their quality and their contribution to the advancement of knowledge; they have undergone a thorough peer-review and editing process. The majority of titles are available as free-to-download digital files or as print-on-demand books ensuring that the important and publicly funded research is available to the general public and never goes out of print.

These publishers, ANU ePress in particular, are leading the way in innovative and cost-effective production processes including the use of XML-driven workflows, digital archiving, meta-tagging, content-indexing, ePub etc. They have been involved in publications that include research data and multimedia, and have expanded the boundaries of traditional publishing and scholarship.

And they’ve been successful in making sure that the Australian research output is promoted to the world using scholarly networks, bibliographic data systems, university repositories and social media. SUP’s top-downloaded book by Simon Chapman has had over 10,000 downloads since its release in 2010. In 2011, there were 4,280,168 total downloads of ANU ePress titles.

The traditional, print-based model of scholarly publishing is losing touch with the modern researcher who is increasingly interested, and often required, to have the research publications available in open access mode. Academics want their books to appear fast, in a digital format and with a creative commons licence so that they can share them with colleagues and students without breaking the copyright law.

While I agree with Adler’s call for more subsidies, the question remains where and how the resources should be invested. I remain somewhat unconvinced by a vision of a new network and a portal promoted exclusively by commercially driven presses looking for ways to prop up their traditionally run businesses. A model developed by non-for-profit university publishers seems to be a better use of taxpayer money. With the focus on innovative and cost-effective production and distribution processes, the open access model is cheaper, more efficient and successful way to publish and disseminate research output of Australian scholars.

Perhaps the future is not so grim after all.