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On 25 April 1916, 2,000 Australian and New Zealand troops marched through London towards a service at Westminster Abbey attended by the King and Queen. One of the soldiers later recalled the celebratory atmosphere of the day. This was the first Anzac Day. A year earlier, Australian soldiers had been the first to land on the Gallipoli peninsula as part of an attempt by the combined forces of the British and French empires to invade the Ottoman Empire.

The post A tale of two cities: Anzac Day and the Easter Rising appeared first on OUPblog.

"What a good thing Adam had. When he said a good thing he knew nobody had said it before." Mark Twain put his finger on one of the minor problems for a relatively new nation: making an impact in the world of famous quotations. All the good lines seem to have already been used somewhere else, by somebody else.

The post How well do you know your quotes from Down Under? appeared first on OUPblog.

‘Anzac’ (soon transmuting from acronym to word) came to sum up the Australian desire to reflect on what the war had meant. What was the first Anzac Day? At least four explanations exist of the origins of the idea of Anzac, the most enduring legacy of Australia’s Great War.

The post Remembering Anzac Day: how Australia grieved in the early years appeared first on OUPblog.

A couple of months ago I revisited an iconic song by Eric Bogle, finding new breath in Bruce Whatley’s picture book, And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda. Bogle found the words and Whatley the images that profoundly capture all the raw emotion, loss and resilience that epitomises the Great War of 100 years ago. This […]

Anzac day has always been special for most Australian’s. We’ve grown up hearing the stories of our ANZACs. We’ve watched movies and read books about it; it makes up part of our DNA, but it wasn’t until I read a small article from 1920 about an incident that happened in my home town around this time, that I discovered there was so much more to World War one, and the legacy those men left behind.

I was given an article about a returned war hero and a young local girl who had been involved in a terrible incident while at a dance one late November night in 1920 and my life was never going to be the same again. Why? I hear you ask? Well, for one thing, I discovered things about my town, my family and two complete strangers that would spark a passion for local history in me that has only increased since writing Poppy’s Dilemma. Secondly, developing an obsession for a man who has been dead for 94 years, well, one never quite recovers from something like that!

Things happened while writing this book, strange things… and if I believed in strange things, I’d be thinking it was almost as though Alick wanted this story to be told.

While researching for Poppy’s Dilemma, based on the years following the First World War, I stumbled upon a series of scanned letters on a website. It wasn’t until I dug deeper that I was astonished to discover these letters were written by the man I was basing my story on, Alexander McLean. I now have these letters, letters that are almost 100 years old, some written from trenches in France during the war, and I feel a connection to this man that spans over a century.

Alick joined the army in August of 1915. He was awarded a Distinguished Conduct Medal for bravery in the field. He was well respected by his senior officers and men, even being promoted in the field by showing excellent leadership skills during battle.

After a wound to the head which resulted in Alick losing an eye, he was returned home to Australia in late 1918. He returned to work with his bullock team and went on with his life, however after a dance in November, 1920 for reasons unknown, Alexander Mclean approached a young woman named Gertie Trisley on a bridge just outside the hall they’d been dancing in earlier, and shot her in the head, before turning the gun and mortally wounding himself, dying a few hours later.

So how did a much loved and respected, hero end up committing such an out of characteristic crime? Parts of the inquest held after his death often referred to his head injury received during the war, and given as the only real explanation.

These boys who had grown up in the community were farmers, timber getters, shop clerks, delivery boys. They played football, they sang or played instruments for weekend dances. They were normal, everyday young Australians and their families proudly waved them off from the train station but when they came home, a large part of those same boys would not return.

The coroner, Mr Hodge summed the general feeling of the time rather eloquently referring to Alexander Mclean;

“We remember how he went forth voluntarily to fight for his country and his King; and we know how valiantly he carried out the trust. He fought with such distinction that he gained that very coveted honor, the Distinguished Conduct Medal, and I think that at this very critical time he had been recommended for a lieutenancy. We all remember how he returned covered with honor; we hailed him back; we loved him, God only knows the great thing that caused him to do what he did; we feel that there must have been something that impelled him to commit such an awful crime. Our sympathies must go out towards those gallant men who fought for the Empire and came back with head wounds, or are suffering from the effects of gas; they went through a hell, and we have to make every allowance for them.”

It was while reading this article, which can be read in its entirety along with the Coroner’s report via my web page, that I felt a need to write this story, not to solve any great mysteries, but to give Alick a voice; a glimpse into what life was like for these men who went off on what they all thought would be a huge adventure only to return home broken shells of their former selves.

I also wanted to explore what my town had been like during and after the war, once men like Alick returned. These men were returned home and expected to fit back into a world they’d left behind. How did anyone think a person could go from living in a muddy trench and fighting on a bloody battle field one day  to walking down the main street and chatting to their neighbour’s about the weather, within the space of a few months?

This year is the 100^th anniversary of WW1 and to commemorate it, there’s a variety of upcoming events and projects underway that will extend into the following 4 years throughout communities all around Australia, so keep your eye out for things happening and let’s help remember our ANZAC’s.

You can buy Karly Lane’s latest book, Poppy’s Dilemma, here…

Occasionally a thing that you witness, a song that you hear or a line that your read manifests itself indelibly within you, seemingly forever. Sometimes, not always, you remember the exact time and place and occasion that these erasable impressions mark your memory for the first time. Often this phenomenon occurs when you are still young in years and free in thinking. Memorable moments can be fortifying but also confronting and shocking, which is why books like these, Along the Road to Gundagai and Gallipoli, constitute essential reading for young people.

Perhaps, had I been exposed to more picture books like these that introduced history and invited discussion and explanation, I may have been less shocked by the brutality of humans at war. Who knows? It was all in the past…

As ANZAC Day approaches urging us to remember the past, it’s difficult to know what to reach for when trying to share the meaning of these particular commemorations with your children. Unless they observe or participate in ceremonies or have relatives that do so, school is often the first place youngsters encounter terms like ANZAC Cove, the Great War, and diggers.

War is messy and cruel. It is horrid and scary but it is also about bravery, ingenuity, mateship, and perseverance. Along the Road to Gundagai and Gallipoli are picture books that capture the bitter essence of war in a way that is non-threatening but hauntingly real.

Penned by Australian musician, Jack O’Hagan in 1922,  Along the Road to Gundagai has an almost anthem quality to it. It is not the first time a well-known song or verse has been purposely presented as a picture book but like others before it, the coupling of well-known lyrics with evocative images serves to anchor our appreciation and deepen our understanding of the story behind the words.

It is essentially a lament by the young men of the Great Wars; of their yearning to return to their youth which was so irrevocably spoilt by war.

Award winning Aussie illustrator, Andrew McLean, ironically ventured into the world of digital art to portray this poignant piece of history. The recollections of our narrating lad’s ‘old bush home and friends’ are all succinctly framed; captured moments matching the lyrical text, soft yet glowing.

Conversely, scenes from the scarred battle fields imbue entire pages with dark, sombre, desolation. Particularly arresting for me was the contrast of sunny skies over the Murrumbidgee and the gas-filled atmosphere of battle where even the horses wear gasmasks; the whites of their eyes betraying their confusion and terror.

All of us have a road to Gundagai we’d like to revisit. This powerful picture book rendition of an Aussie classic allows readers young and old to do just that.

Picture books about the ANZACs of WWI abound. Many succeed thanks to the legendary intensity of the subject matter, the sensitive translation of emotions through illustrations and the poetic rendering of a brutal period of modern day history. Gallipoli by Kerry Greenwood and Annie White delivers all these and more.

It is simply the story of Gallipoli. It is Dusty and Bluey’s story told through the eyes of Bluey’s great grandson. But before you say, not another ANZAC tale, look again; at the sepia-coloured end pages depicting wartime and post war snap shots of our two mates. Be swept along on their adventure, across vast oceans and scorching deserts and No Man’s Land. Feel the hunger, the terror and the relief shared by these two young men whose unbreakable friendship withstands time and war.

Greenwood leaves no stone unturned in the retelling of this infamously failed military campaign, however 7 year olds and above could easily master and enjoy this account themselves because it reads as fluidly as fiction. There are few dates to stumble over and enough storyline to accommodate a myriad of historical revelations including; the futile charges, trench survival, Simpson and his donkey(s), and the Roses of No Man’s Land.

White never belittles the enormity of Bluey and Dust’s situation. Her illustrations show mortar attacks and bleeding wounds in full colour yet are neither cheerless nor grim. Subdued sepia photographs are ‘stuck’ on every page like an old well-loved album guiding the reader from the past to present day remembrance.

Stirring, significant and worth sharing, especially with school-aged children.

War is certainly not joyful but it was special to sit and read these with my 8 year old and by some strange twist of intent, it was she who helped me through the more emotional bits.

Along the Road to Gundagai

Omnibus Books February 2014

Gallipoli

Scholastic Press March 2014

Confession: The day I received Working Title Presses’ latest release, An ANZAC Tale, I was assailed with nostalgia and immense trepidation.

How does one do justice to one of the most unjustifiable periods of human history? Ruth Stark and Greg Holfeld have done it and done it admirably well. The result is a meticulously researched and presented graphic picture book that possesses the unique duality of being both breathtakingly beautiful, and poignantly tragic.

It is almost that time of year when we gather as a nation to commemorate and reflect on one of the most fiercely contested campaigns of WWI, the battle of Gallipoli. But how does one pass comment on the interpretation of the tenacity, stupidity, bravery and strength of spirit of humanity without sounding trite or conceited? I wasn’t sure I could manage it as masterfully as the Stark Holfeld team. So I didn’t try.

Instead I revisited the tale, and with each turn of the page, was transported back to a time over two decades ago, when I gazed across the benign azure waters of Suvla Bay and ANZAC Cove, on the European side of Turkey’s Gelibolu Peninsular. Sunshine bronzed my already travel-tanned shoulders and the smell of the Aegean Sea filled my lungs. Nothing permeated the silence that engulfed us, not even the cry of sea birds. I stared at the impossibly steep cliffs looming up from the beach and shivered in spite of the heat.

I remember standing in the trenches of The Nek and Second Ridge, shallow now, scalloped smooth by time. A pine scented breeze played about my neck. We stood unmoving, listening to it whisper through the pines; the sound of a thousand souls sighing around us. And tears seared my eyes, blurred my vision of the honey coloured earth as I struggled to imagine it stained vile by the colours of war and battled to comprehend the futility, the valour, the discomfort, and the stench of human corruption.

We were led about by our Turkish guide with quiet reverence, not because he thought we were special, but because we were Aussies. We had already earned his respect and our right to be there. We felt that as absolutely as the heat pulsating up from the baked earth.

I remember visiting Chunuk Bair, Lone Pine; standing in front of the walls of names, searching, too many to read through; I’ll be here all day, I thought. Compared to whom? I found a pine seed from that tree and slipped it into my pocket, (just as Ray did for his mate Wally). When the afternoon sun lost its sting, we slipped away quietly from the trenches and had Turkish Dondurma (ice-cream) to temper the memory of what we had seen and felt; acutely aware of enjoying a pleasure and a respite that would have been denied to the ANZACS.

My brief sojourn to Gelibolu makes me no more of an expert on the event and the place than the next Aussie backpacker. Yet it has created an indelible memory with which An ANZAC Tale resonates profoundly.

The enormity of the ANZAC’s story is handled with remarkable lightness of touch and told by Ruth Stark with a respectful, quintessential Aussie jocularity. It is never sentimental or laboured but simply follows best mates Ray Martin and Wally Cardwell as they experience the first landing at ANZAC Cove on the 25th April 1915. What followed became a battle of endurance and wits sadly resulting in thousands of deaths on both sides.

The popular comic-style graphic format is dominated by the illustrations of Greg Holfeld that are brutally faithful to the moment without depicting gratuitous guts and gore. The last charge in particular rips with chaotic movement, terror and finality but not in a way that traumatises the reader.

Wally, Roy and their new, fortune-seeking mate, Tom, head an anthropomorphic cast of Aussie characters. They are buck Roos, who rub shoulders with Kiwis (the birds) and various other national fauna. The Drill Major is a raucous bossy cockatoo. Egyptians are depicted as cats. Wily and resourceful magpies represent enterprising privates and Johnny Turk is portrayed as the ‘black eared’ caracal lynx, from the Turkish word karakulak. This cat is described as being fiercely territorial which accurately translates to the Turks’ indomitable fighting spirit.

An ANZAC Tale not only chronicles a significant period of history difficult for young people to fathom in a way that they (young boys and reluctant readers in particular) will find enthralling and exciting but also takes us on a deeply moving journey (tears were never far away for me) through the vagaries of Australian society in the early twentieth Century and the complexities of warfare. All this is brilliantly supported with maps, notes and a timeline.

‘Why would any Australian want to come to Gallipoli?’ Ray asks Tom as they evacuate under the cover of darkness on the 18th of December 1915. You don’t need to turn the last page to find the answer to that poignant question, but you’ll be touched when you do.

If you haven’t yet been or are unlikely to get the family to Gallipoli any time soon, An ANZAC Tale is an outstanding armchair substitute. Beautifully bound and twice the length of a normal picture book, it will appeal best to older aged primary children and those who’d rather reflect than analyse.

Working Title Press 2013 Available now

It’s Anzac Day today, sunset services are being held all over Australia.

I’m up at sunset watching the Anzac service where doves of peace have been released.

Simpson & his Donkey represent the act of kindness that changes lives. Simpson carried more than 300 wounded soldiers from the World War 1 Gallipoli battlefield  under fire to safety. These special books engage us in the courage of Simpson and his Donkey:-

Simpson and His Donkey by Mark Greenwood illustrated by Frane Lessac

The Donkey Who Carried the Wounded by Jackie French

We all do acts of kindess at times, receive them at others. 

Reader’s Digest says their column on acts of kindness has exploded – people want to celebrate acts of kindness.

Reader’s Digest supports the just released book ‘The Power of Good’ – stories of the kindness of strangers by leaders in the community, writers, actors, politicans…. and of course some children’s authors – Libby Gleeson. There’s one from me too.

Write your own story on: www.powerofgood.com.au

Have been up since 5 o’clock this morning, having struggled out of bed to attend the ANZAC day dawn service on the hill behind my house. Worth the struggle, to spend the time reflecting on what the brave soldiers from our past (and present) have done. Back at home, my beloved cooked me bacon and eggs and we spent a lazy couple of hours before it was my turn to cook and I whipped up a batch of

ANZAC Day is coming up this Friday, April 25. This is the day that Australia pauses to remember both the first ANZAC Day, when Australian and New Zealand forces landed in Gallipoli, and all of Australia’s military involvement in international conflict. I wrote a couple of weeks ago about two new books coming out in time for ANZAC Day, but wanted to write about it again because this particular