A history of sexuality runs the risk of confirming popular fears that academics are capable of ruining even the most simple of pleasures. This book, however, is written in the hope that histories of sexuality (although not necessarily this one) can enlighten and, occasionally, even delight. At their best such histories offer a means of investigating the clash of instinct and culture - how seemingly timeless and natural behaviours shape and are in turn shaped by history. Sexual practices may persist through time but history also illuminates how sex and sexuality are surprisingly mutable. This capacity of history to unsettle and surprise is evident in many of the works discussed here. In less than 40 years the history of sexuality, as a definable area of scholarly enterprise, has grown from a few works describing past attitudes and behaviours into an enormously rich field that sustains its own journal, a number of monograph series and countless seminars, conferences, articles and books. Moreover, this field has moved well beyond accounts of exotic ideas and strange obsessions to embrace sophisticated analyses of such issues as subjectivity, identity, power, desire, gender and embodiment. Through these studies we now have a much more detailed account of past sexual ideas, beliefs, practices, fantasies and struggles.

The phrase Harlem in the 1920s evokes images of the Harlem Renaissance, or of Marcus Garvey and soapbox orators haranguing crowds about politics and race. Yet the most ubiquitous feature of Harlem life between the world wars was the game of numbers. Thousands of wagers, usually of a dime or less, would be placed on a daily number derived from U.S. bank statistics. The rewards of hitting the number, a 600-to-1 payoff, tempted the ordinary men and women of the Black Metropolis with the chimera of the good life. "Playing the Numbers" tells the story of this illegal form of gambling and the central role it played in the lives of African Americans who flooded into Harlem in the wake of World War I.

For a dozen years the numbers game was one of America s rare black-owned businesses, turning over tens of millions of dollars every year. The most successful bankers were known as Black Kings and Queens, and they lived royally. Yet the very success of bankers like Stephanie St. Clair and Casper Holstein attracted Dutch Schultz, Lucky Luciano, and organized crime to the game. By the late 1930s, most of the profits were being siphoned out of Harlem.

"Playing the Numbers" reveals a unique dimension of African American culture that made not only Harlem but New York City itself the vibrant and energizing metropolis it was. An interactive website allows readers to locate actors and events on Harlem s streets.

War has shaped Australian society profoundly. When we commemorate the sacrifices of the Anzacs, we rightly celebrate their bravery, but we do not always acknowledge the complex aftermath of combat.In The Cost of War, Stephen Garton traces the experiences of Australia's veterans, and asks what we can learn from their stories. He considers the long-term effects of war on returned servicemen and women, on their families and communities, and on Australian public life. He describes attempts to respond to the physical and psychological wounds of combat, from the first victims of shellshock during WWI to more recent understandings of post-traumatic stress disorder. And he examines the political and social repercussions of war, including debates over how we should commemorate conflict and how society should respond to the needs of veterans.When the first edition of The Cost of War appeared in 1996, it offered a ground-breaking new perspective on the Anzac experience. In this new edition, Garton again makes a compelling case for a more nuanced understanding of the individual and collective costs of war.

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 organized 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?