This is the first year covered and the 20th book overall to be released in a series of 31 about life in Australia - one for each year from 1939 to 1969. They describe happenings that affected people, real people. The whole series, to coin a modern phrase, is designed to push your buttons, to make you remember and wonder at things forgotten.
The books might just let nostalgia see the light of day, so that oldies and youngies will talk about the past and re-discover a heritage otherwise forgotten. Hopefully, they will spark discussions between generations, and foster the asking and answering of questions that should not remain unanswered. In 1939, Hitler was the man to watch. He bullied Europe, he took over a few countries, and bamboozled the Brits. By the end of the year, most of Europe ganged up on him, and a phony war had millions of men idling in trenches eating their Christmas turkeys.
Back home in Oz, the drunkometer was breathlessly awaited, pigeon pies were on the nose, our military canteens were sometimes wet and sometimes dry. Nasho for young men was back, Sinatra led his bobby-soxers, while girls of all ages swooned for crooner Bing.
Book Features:
- Nothing like this in the market for people who turn 80 in 2019.
- Sell year round.
- Long back-list.
- Unique, delightful birthday gift for the hard-to-buy-for.
- Written by an Australian for Australians.
- A series of 31 books covering life in Australia in each year 1939-1969.
- A birthday book is better than a birthday card.
- Informative, entertaining, charming conversation starter.
About the Author
Ron Williams is a retired teacher, mathematician, computer-man, political scientist, farmer and writer. He has a BA from Sydney, and a Masters in Social Work and a PhD in Political Science from Hawaii. He currently lives in Wickham in Newcastle, NSW.
Industry Reviews
Tom Lynch, Speers Point. Some history writers make the mistake of trying to boost their authority by including graphs and charts all over the place. You on the other hand get a much better effect by saying things like “he made a pile”. Or “every one worked hours longer than they should have, and felt like death warmed up at the end of the shift.” I have seen other writers waste two pages of statistics painting the same picture as you did in a few words.
Barry Marr, Adelaide You know that I am being facetious when I say that I wish the war had gone on for years longer so that you would have written more books about it.
Edna College, Auburn. A few times I stopped and sobbed as you brought memories of the postman delivering letters, and the dread that ordinary people felt as he neared. How you captured those feelings yet kept your coverage from becoming maudlin or bogged down is a wonder to me.
Betty Kelly, Wagga Wagga. Every time you seem to be getting serious, you throw in a phrase or memory that lightens up the mood. In particular, in the war when you were describing the terrible carnage of Russian troops, you ended with a ten-line description of how aggrieved you felt and ended it with “apart from that, things are pretty good here”. For me, it turned the unbearable into the bearable, and I went from feeling morbid and angry back to a normal human being.
Alan Davey, Brisbane. I particularly liked the light-hearted way you described the scenes at the airports as American, and British, high-flying entertainers flew in. I had always seen the crowd behaviour as disgraceful, but your light-hearted description of it made me realise it was in fact harmless and just good fun.
