AustLit

'In February 2016 we lost one of the most unique intellectuals the country has ever created. Patrick Wolfe was a historian, anthropologist, astute observer, political and environmental activist, and author, and not necessarily in that order. He was also a brilliant friend, a kindly mentor and superb host, an elegant raconteur and unsurpassed conversationalist (both humorous and serious). He was an unselfconscious dancer and above all an adventurous traveller. I knew Patrick for over twenty-five years, first encountering him as my doctoral supervisor, a role he excelled in, and then he morphed into supporter, referee and above all friend and confidant. While Patrick was remarkable as a man, as a scholar he was a constant source of inspiration. Politically engaged and meaningfully potent, Patrick’s legacy is not to be understated.'  (Introduction)

'In this important and challenging book, Liz Conor analyses in compelling fashion a range of settler impressions of Aboriginal women circulating in vernacular settler colonial print culture. Deeply aware that these disturbing images have been powerfully destructive historically and continue to cause hurt, Conor insists nonetheless that we must look at them more closely if we are to better understand the violence, misogyny and disavowal embedded within settler colonialisms past and present. Conor seeks to unveil a way of ‘knowing’ that may be skin deep but has been influential in shaping settler understandings of racial difference. Everyday images intersected in complex ways with the truth claims of expert or eyewitness accounts (for example, in the records of early explorers) and Conor follows their multivalences and circulations via the coincidence between industrialised print culture and colonialism itself. Her insightful interrogations illustrate how diverse sources often ‘strewn across time and place’ came to create ‘everyday cultural meaning’ (67).' (Introduction)

'The point of departure for Country Women and the Colour Bar is the contrast (and friction) between the now fairly well-known Freedom Rides, which toured New South Wales (NSW) in 1965 – drawing attention to the racism and segregation still rife in many country towns – and the ‘quiet activism’ in which many country women had been engaged for a decade or more, working together with sympathetic white people to create networks of support and improvements in living conditions for Aboriginal communities. Country Women and the Colour Bar immerses the reader in this world of country women, and the local concerns and relationships of women in six NSW towns where branches of the Country Women’s Association (CWA) open to, or expressly for, Aboriginal women existed between 1956 and 1972.' (Introduction)