Autobiography/Bio/Non-Fiction

//Autobiography/Bio/Non-Fiction
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  • Nene King was the queen of the Australian magazine world. For over four years King increased the circulation of Woman's Day by 400,000 sales a week. No cheque was too large to write, no paparazzi shot too intrusive, no story too outrageous - so long as she could serve up the must-have stories for her readers. In the late 80s and into the 90s, if there was a scandal happening somewhere in the world, chances are that Woman's Day would have an exclusive - with photos. She took the magazine to the number one spot and she became on of Australia's most powerful women - feared by the stars, courted by politicians, Kerry Packer's confidante and Queen Bee of the celebritocracy. She was in the Beatles' motel room when they visited Australia; she arrived in London in time for the Summer of Love and lived in South East Asia during the turbulent years of the Vietnam War.  She went all the way from interviewing a young housewife by the name of Hazel Hawke - to interviewing the same Hazel and paying  her a king's ransom for her side of the break-up with Bob and along the way interviewed Mae West and met Princess Diana. Keeping hr going for 22 years was the great love of her live, Patrick Bowring. But on May 24, 1996, Nene's life changed forever.
  • Tall tales and true, these are the stories we tell ourselves over and over again. Australia has a rich tradition of story telling that reflects our unique history and experience. Great Australian Stories gathers some of the best of our stories from colonial times to the present, with bush yarns, tall stories, urban myths, and tales of the mysterious and downright weird. This is an Australia of down-to-earth realism, tragedy, and heroism, dry humor, an unexpectedly wide supernatural streak, and a strong sense of place. There's cocky farmers, drongos, heroes, bunyips, ghosts, famous tricksters and the world's greatest whinger, as well as larger-than-life real characters like the sad Eliza Donnithorne. With favorite yarns from around the country, Great Australian Stories is the most representative collection available of the stories we tell about ourselves. Graham Seal explains where the stories come from, and why even the outright lies reveal a truth of sorts.
  • On May 27, 1940, Wing-Commander Basil Embry (later Air Chief Marshal and Commander, Allied Air Forces in Central Europe 1953-56), although appointed to a higher command, decided to lead his old squadron into battle for the last time. Within the hour he was shot down in France and found himself alone, unarmed and in uniform. Capture was inevitable. He was, in fact, captured three times: on one occasion breaking from a column of prisoners under the muzzle of a German machine-gun and on another fighting his way out, killing three Germans with a stolen rifle and then hiding in a manure heap for nearly six hours. The most amazing of all of Embry's exploits was the occasion on which, in the role of a fanatical member of the Irish Republican Army, he shook his fist under the nose of a German inquisitor, yelling hatred and abuse of Britain until his captors finally turned him loose to find his own way home - which, by sheer courage and wit, he did, to fight and fly again. He was awarded the D.S.O. and three bars; and the D.F.C.
  • In this sequel to To School Through The Fields, Alice continues her story of a country childhood and of the many memorable characters who were her neighbours. Old Nell and Bill and Dan appear again, together with many more characters, from Bridgie who plies her washboard every Monday to Peter who was born with a romantic heart. All takes place against the backdrop of great changes in country life, while Alice herself makes the transition from the old school across the fields to the secondary school in town. This is the story of a changing time, a time when rural Ireland quenched the oil lamp, removed the po from under the bed and threw the black pots and iron kettles under the hedge.
  • Helen Brown wasn't a cat person, but her nine-year-old son Sam was. So when Sam heard a woman telling his mum that her cat had just had kittens, Sam pleaded to go and see them. Helen's heart melted as Sam held one of the kittens in his hands with a look of total adoration. In a trice the deal was done - the kitten would be delivered when she was big enough to leave her mother. A week later, Sam was run over and killed. Not long after, a little black kitten was delivered to the grieving family. Totally traumatised by Sam's death, Helen had forgotten all about the new arrival. After all, that was back in another universe when Sam was alive. Helen was ready to send the kitten back, but Sam's younger brother wanted to keep her, identifying with the tiny black kitten who'd also lost her brothers. When Rob stroked her fur, it was the first time Helen had seen him smile since Sam's death. There was no choice: the kitten - dubbed Cleo - had to stay. Kitten or not, there seemed no hope of becoming a normal family. But Cleo's zest for life slowly taught the traumatised family to laugh. She went on to become the uppity high priestess of Helen's household, vetoing her new men, terrifying visiting dogs and building a special bond with Rob, his sister Lydia, Helen - and later a baby daughter.
  • The coming crisis in the world food industry.  Large scale food production has given us super abundance - but at a very costly and unsustainable price.  More than a billion people are overweight or obese, yet just as many are malnourished.  Over-populated countries are already planning for tightened global food supplies.  Roberts explores the vulnerable miracle of our modern food economy and pinpoints the decisions that must be made to avoid the coming meltdown. Fist published in 2008, this book is more valid than ever.
  • Here is a collection of fair dinkum stories about - what else? - fair dinkum Aussies.  Lockwood was on the spot to write an eye-witness account of the Japanese at Darwin and to broadcast the bombshell of the Petrov affair to the world.  Some stories are tragic - some are amusing - some historical and some are supernatural - and all are fascinating.  Illustrated with black and white photographs.

  • Fred Hollows (1923 - 1993, AC) was no saint. He didn't pretend to be. He was as rough a diamond as they come. Author Tom Keneally called him 'the wild colonial boy of Australian surgery'.  'Every eye is an eye,' said Fred - and when 3.5  million Africans go blind each year, then the world was not up to scratch for Fred Hollows.  Four out of five people who are blind don't need to be - but millions of people are blind simply because they don't have access to treatment. It was daunting, and that was no excuse for inaction or failure. Fred knew what tools were needed. Energy, money, training and a plastic lens factory. Action. So he got busy. He travelled rough roads, operated in a cave, held clinics in dry creek beds and the MiG jets overhead didn't help matters either.  When chance took him to Watti Creek and he discovered how bad eye problems were among the outback Aboriginals, he got stuck in. Two years and a quarter of a million kilometres later, the Trachoma Program had fixed the worst of the problem. When Fred got busy, conflict was inevitable, some sensibilities were probably bruised, hindrances were there to overcome, waffle got dismissed and wasted time was not tolerated. But the patient - whoever and wherever he or she might have been, would see the doctor.  Today, The Foundation bearing Fred Hollows' name is continuing his dream to end avoidable blindness. Illustrated with black and white photographs.  
  • They thought he was just a cat. When Oscar arrived at the Steere House Nursing and Rehabilitation Center in Rhode Island he was a cute little guy with attitude. He loved to stretch out in a puddle of sunlight and chase his tail until he was dizzy. Occasionally he consented to a scratch behind the ears, but only when it suited him. In other words, he was a typical cat. Or so it seemed. It wasn't long before Oscar had created something of a stir. Apparently, this ordinary cat possesses an extraordinary gift: he knows instinctively when the end of life is near. Many of the residents of Steere House live with Alzheimer's. But Oscar never spends much time with them - until they are in their last hours. Then, as if this were his job, Oscar strides purposely into a patient's room, curls up on the bed and begins his vigil, providing comfort and companionship when people need him most. And his presence lets caregivers and loved ones know that it's time to say good-bye. Oscar's gift is a tender mercy. He teaches by example: embracing moments of life that so many of us shy away from.