An appeal for slowness and heightened awareness - Eva Vermandel assembles distilled images, calm and sensuous, in Splinter. Her photographs work like the proverbial splinter in the eye of the beholder, embedding themselves in the psyche of the viewer.In her series Vermandel (*1974) braces herself against the torrent of highly disposable media images that, seeking our attention, rushes in at us daily and with increasing speed. Her motifs are unspectacular, intimate and withdrawn: people, often in their homes, alone or with friends or children, personal objects on shelves or cupboards. Warm flecks fly about their accented materiality. Sensitive, intensely felt and at the same time solid, Vermandel's photographs draw deep on the traditions of art history.

Every year thousands visit the Art Gallery of NSW to view the entrants in the Archibald Prize for Portraiture. He was the founding editor of one of the most iconic newspapers, The Bulletin. Yet very little is known about J.F. Archibald.

The Dawkins reforms of the late 1980s and the creation of the Unified National System roused passions at many universities across the nation over fears for the academic enterprise and Australia's system of free, public university education. With much at stake, the Dawkins reforms became a hot topic of discussion across university campuses, and even between Vice-Chancellors and state education ministers. Vice-Chancellors were threatened with motions of no-confidence, staff argued furiously against change and students protested against fees, yet mostly to no avail. The reforms were introduced and universities became subject to new ways of funding by the Commonwealth that changed the way higher education was organised in Australia. This volume tells the story of the Dawkins reforms at Australia's oldest university, the University of Sydney, and the unlikely alliance between the University's Vice-Chancellor and the New South Wales government in the scramble for more students. Between 1988 and 1996, the University grew exponentially. At the same time it strove to preserve its honoured past despite profound change. Did this desire to preserve an older tradition compromise its effort to master the future?

'A gripping new drama in science ... if you want to understand how the concept of life is changing, read this' Professor Andrew Briggs, University of Oxford When Darwin set out to explain the origin of species, he made no attempt to answer the deeper question: what is life? For generations, scientists have struggled to make sense of this fundamental question. Life really does look like magic: even a humble bacterium accomplishes things so dazzling that no human engineer can match it. And yet, huge advances in molecular biology over the past few decades have served only to deepen the mystery. So can life be explained by known physics and chemistry, or do we need something fundamentally new? In this penetrating and wide-ranging new analysis, world-renowned physicist and science communicator Paul Davies searches for answers in a field so new and fast-moving that it lacks a name, a domain where computing, chemistry, quantum physics and nanotechnology intersect. At the heart of these diverse fields, Davies explains, is the concept of information: a quantity with the power to unify biology with physics, transform technology and medicine, and even to illuminate the age-old question of whether we are alone in the universe. From life's murky origins to the microscopic engines that run the cells of our bodies, The Demon in the Machine is a breath-taking journey across the landscape of physics, biology, logic and computing. Weaving together cancer and consciousness, two-headed worms and bird navigation, Davies reveals how biological organisms garner and process information to conjure order out of chaos, opening a window on the secret of life itself.

Macintyre revisits A Concise History of Australia to provoke readers to reconsider Australia's past and its relationship to the present.

How do we see and act justly in the world? In what ways can we ethically respond to social and economic crisis? How do we address the desperation that exists in the new forms of violence and atrocity? These are all questions at the heart of Justice and Love, a philosophical dialogue on how to imagine and act in a more just world by theologian Rowan Williams and philosopher Mary Zournazi. Looking at different religious and philosophical traditions, Williams and Zournazi argue for the re-invigoration and enriching of the language of justice and, by situating justice alongside other virtues, they extend our everyday vocabularies on what is just. Drawing on examples ranging from the Paris Attacks, the Syrian War, and the European Migrant Crisis to Brexit and the US Presidential elections, Williams and Zournazi reflect on justice as a process: a condition of being, a responsiveness to others, rather than a cold distribution of fact. By doing so, they explore the love and patience needed for social healing and the imagination required for new ways of relating and experiencing the world.

In 1857 all of the Arts students at the University of Sydney could fit into a single photograph. Now there are more than one million university students in Australia. After World War II, Australian universities became less elite but more important, growing from six small institutions educating less than 0.2 per cent of the population to a system enrolling over a quarter of high school graduates. And yet, universities today are plagued with ingrained problems. More than 50 per cent of the cost of universities goes to just running them. They now have an explicit commercial focus. They compete bitterly for students and funding, an issue sharply underlined by the latest federal budget. Scholars rarely feel their vice-chancellors represent them and within their own ranks, academics squabble for scraps. Knowing Australia is a perceptive, clear-eyed account of Australian universities, recounting their history from the 1850s to the present. Investigating the changing nature of higher education, it asks whether this success is likely to continue in the 21st century, as the university’s hold over knowledge grows ever more tenuous.