The Battle of ’Narawai on North Stradbroke Island, and skirmishes that culminated in this event (c. 1827–32) have been sidelined in recent decades, based on the assumption that the event was more likely a massacre, and that sources are too conflicted to build a workable narrative. Here we utilise known and unexamined sources, and the untapped oral tradition and environmental knowledge of Stradbroke Island Aboriginal peoples, to reconstruct both the build-up and phases of the confrontation. We find that our primary sources for this incident ultimately derive from Aboriginal informants; together with current Aboriginal perspectives, these allow a more nuanced and Aboriginal-driven narrative than is normally possible for a frontier wars skirmish. It is argued that the Battle of ’Narawai was not a one-sided massacre but rather a well-planned operation by Aboriginal combatants, orchestrated to provide tactical advantages. We contend that the battle merged tactics of traditional pullen-pullen (inter-tribal tournaments) with strategies more suited to the demands of the frontier wars, and that it was perceived as a victory by Aboriginal Stradbroke Islanders.

This article is an intervention in debates about the reputation of Australian writers, with specific reference to the career of Thea Astley (and, as a ‘benchmark’, Randolph Stow). It argues that the terrain in which reputations are made and books are valued is complex and uneven, particularly when viewed from regional perspectives. The aim is to shift the focus in ‘reception’ from single fields, such as book sales, literary prizes, critical attention and international recognition, to show a more complex literary ecology within which authors might simultaneously ‘rise’ and ‘fall’ in different ways. The data supporting this claim come from a variety of sources, including newspaper databases, schools and libraries, although the article is ‘preliminary’ in the sense that it does not investigate the substance of the quantitative data compiled — for example, it does not consider in depth the reviews or kinds of stories that were carried in the press. The discussion of reputation aims to keep Astley’s oeuvre and style in view, in order to consider why and how Astley might be ‘neglected’ and how this neglect might be addressed.

This article examines the significant place of the 99th (Lanarkshire) Regiment of Foot as part of the shared history of Australia and New Zealand through the 1840s and 1850s, including its role in frontier conflict with Aboriginal peoples in Queensland and Māori peoples in New Zealand. This preliminary comparison explores the role and experiences of detachments of the British Army’s 99th Regiment on three different colonial frontiers during the 1840s transitional period: the end of convict transportation and the opening of free settlement in Moreton Bay in 1842–48; the short-lived North Australia colony (later Gladstone) in 1847; and New Zealand’s North Island in 1845–47.

English common law was applied in the New South Wales penal colony when it was founded by Governor Arthur Phillip in 1788. Phillip’s second commission granted him sole authority to appoint coroners and justices of the peace within the colony. The first paid city coroner was appointed in 1810 and only five coroners served the expanding territory of New South Wales by 1821. To relieve the burden on coroners, justices of the peace were authorised to conduct magisterial inquiries as an alternative to inquests. When the Moreton Bay settlement was established, and land was opened up to free settlers, justices were relocated from New South Wales to the far northern colony. Nonetheless, the administration of justice, along with the function of the coroner, was hindered by issues of isolation, geography and poor administration by a government far removed from the evolving settlement. This article is about death investigation and the role of the coroner in Moreton Bay. By examining a number of case studies, it looks at the constraints faced by coroners, deaths due to interracial violence and deaths not investigated. It concludes that not all violent and unexplained deaths were investigated in accordance with coronial law due to a paucity of legally qualified magistrates, the physical limitations of local conditions and the denial of justice to Aborigines as subjects of the Crown.

Over a fifty-year period, from 1944 to 1994, Thea Astley published a number of critical writings, including essays, newspaper articles and reviews, and short reflections and meditations on her craft. Despite a renewed interest in Astley’s work, however, most critical interrogations of her oeuvre focus on her novels, and more recently her poetry. As a result, Astley’s critical writing has not been afforded the same breadth and depth of investigation as her fiction. This lacuna is troubling, since Astley’s critical works are important not only for their insight, but for what they reveal about Astley’s self-representation, and in particular the dual identity that she embodied as both a teacher and a satirist. This article argues that these dual roles emerge clearly in Astley’s essays and in fact are inextricable from many of her works. Further, the tensions between these two personae — Astley as teacher and Astley as satirist — reveal natural overlaps with her imaginative writing, and reflect her changing ideas about fiction writing, literature, and education.

Commissioners of Crown Lands were the first government officials appointed to the newly declared pastoral districts surrounding Moreton Bay after it was opened to free settlement in 1842. These officers had a significant impact on the formation of regional communities, the administration of justice and the treatment of the Indigenous people but their primary responsibility was the implementation and enforcement of government policies relating to Crown Lands. Commissioners were required to oversee pastoral leases, ensure payment of fees for pastoral and other licences and undertake expeditions to provide the New South Wales government with information regarding the nature of the land and its resources. Extracts from the original correspondence between the Commissioners and the Colonial Secretary indicate that, despite enormous challenges, early Crown Lands Commissioners were largely successful in ensuring the orderly settlement of pastoral districts. Their success however, came at the expense of the Indigenous people, who were systematically driven from their lands without compensation and with scant consideration for their welfare.

Thea Astley is a figure who is strongly associated with music, both in her life interests and in her writing rhythms and allusions; this article investigates the uses of music in her 1972 novel The Acolyte. Drawing on a recent genre of critical musicology that understands music to be a social practice, The Acolyte is read in relation to mid-twentieth-century cultural debates around the development of a distinctive Australian classical music. Centring on the blind pianist turned composer Jack Holberg, The Acolyte is grounded in the Gold Coast hinterland as an inspiring and generative landscape, in contrast with the desolate outback favoured in national mythologies. Holberg’s ‘Gold Coast Symphony’, arguably the turning point of the novel, imaginatively writes this coastal fringe of urban debauchery into the vernacular of classical music through its performance in conservative 1960s Brisbane. In this article, I read The Acolyte as a novel positioned within an Australian musicological history that intersects with the poetics of place, the politics of gender and sexuality, and ongoing national formations through cultural production.

Although she is often perceived as a writer of the local, the rural or the regional, Thea Astley herself notes writing by American modernists as her primary literary influence, and emphasises the ethical value of transnational reading and writing. Similarly, she draws parallels between writing of the American ‘Deep South’ and her own writing of the ‘Deep North’, with a particular focus on the struggles of the racial or cultural outsider. In this article, I pursue Astley’s peculiar blend of these literary genres — modernism, the Gothic and the transnational — as a means of understanding her conceptualisation of kindness and community. Although Astley rejects the necessity of literary community, her writing emphasises instead the value of interpersonal engagement and social responsibility. With a focus on her first novel, Girl with a Monkey (1958), this article considers Astley’s representation of the distinction between community and kindness, particularly for young Catholic women in Queensland in the early twentieth century. In its simultaneous critique of the expectations placed on women and its upholding of the values of kindness and charity, Astley considers our responsibilities in our relations with the Other and with community.

The history of prefabrication in settler Australia is incomplete. The use of prefabricated and transportable buildings in existing Australian architectural histories focuses on colonial importation from Britain, Asia, America and New Zealand. This article, however, argues for a more diverse and local history of prefabrication — one that considers Indigenous people’s use of prefabrication and draws on archaeological research of abandoned military ventures, revealing an Australian-made, colonial prefabricated building industry that existed for over 40 years, from the 1800s to the 1840s. A more inclusive architectural history of prefabrication is considered in relation to a case study of the first European house erected in Moreton Bay at the British penal outpost of Red Cliffe Point (1824–25), a settlement established partly to contribute to British territory-marking on Australia’s distant coastlines. While existing histories prioritise transportability and ease of assembly as features of prefabricated buildings, this research has found that ease of disassembly, relocation and recycling of building components is a key feature of prefabrication in early abandoned British military garrisons.

This article reads Thea Astley’s final novel in the context of rhetoric about the death of Australian literature that has been a mainstay of our national culture almost since its inception. In the early 2000s, a new round of obituarists argued that the global publishing industry, critical trends and changing educational pedagogies were eroding Australia’s literary identity. Drylands, published in 1999, can be considered a slightly prescient participant in this conversation: it is subtitled A Book for the World’s Last Reader, seemingly framing the novel in a polemics of decline. My reading, however, sees the book as the product of two correlated yet combative literary projects: the attempt by its primary narrator, Janet Deakin, to write a book after what she sees as the likely death of reading and writing; and Astley’s more nuanced exploration of the role of literature in settler colonial modernity. Reading across the seven narratives that constitute the book, I argue that Drylands performs the fraught relationship between ethics and aesthetics in the context of writing about the systemic violence of the settler colonial state, questioning literary privilege, exclusivity and complicity in ways that remain relevant to debates regarding Australian literature today.

This article consolidates the pros and cons of the two common modelling techniques for economic impact analysis: the input–output multiplier and the computable general equilibrium (CGE) technique. The latter is recommended for large event assessment and was used to examine the economic impacts of the Gold Coast 2018 Commonwealth Games. The Games is estimated to have generated approximately A$2.5 billion of gross state product (GSP) to Queensland after netting out the costs incurred. The effect is spread over a period of nine years from pre-Games period of preparation for the Games, through the Games period itself, and then rather significantly in the post-Games period. While benefits accrue to Queensland, the rest of Australia is estimated to lose due to the so-called ‘crowding out effect’.

Beginning as early as A Descant for Gossips (1960), gay men and gay love come and go in Thea Astley’s prose oeuvre. The responses that these characters and this topic invite shift with point of view and under the impact of varied themes. Astley’s treatment refuses to be contained, either by traditional Catholic doctrines about sex or by Australia’s delay in decriminalising homosexual acts. Driven by love for her gay older brother Philip, whose death from cancer corresponded with her final allusions to gay love in The Multiple Effects of Rainshadow (1996), Astley’s only constant message on this, as on other topics, is humans’ responsibility to treat each other with kindness. This essay draws on Karen Lamb’s biography and on writings and reminiscences by Philip Astley’s family and fellow Jesuits to reveal his significance as his sister sought to resolve through her fiction the conflict between an inculcated Catholic idolisation of purity and her own hard-won understanding and acceptance of gay men.

The Gold Coast 2018 Commonwealth Games presented the host city with a number of opportunities to improve its infrastructure and sporting facilities in line with its long-term strategic vision to transition to being a more mature and sustainable Australian city. However, major events such as the Commonwealth Games have a chequered history of bestowing lasting benefits and a positive legacy on the host city. This article examines the ways in which infrastructure planning for the 2018 Games was used to underpin the success experienced by the Gold Coast in harnessing the event to achieve broader city building objectives. It also reflects critically on how major event-led development can be used to support existing strategic city plans.