The Australian writer Gerald Marcus Glaskin was quite a handsome fellow, though his naval record - complexion sallow, hair black, eyes brown; height five feet ten inches; scar on his forehead - suggests otherwise. His good looks were combined with a sharp mind and a quick wit, overall a combination that served him well for much of his life. While Glaskin's reputation as a writer has faded, his legacy should not be forgotten. His writing was powerful and found an appreciative audience in the 1950s and 1960s. One book in particular deserves revisiting and it holds an iconic place in Australia literature. No End to the Way, published by Barrie & Rockliff of London in 1965 under the pseudonym Neville Jackson, is the first overtly gay Australian novel (Hurley 190). The book had a powerful impact on a generation of young Australian men coming to terms with their homosexuality, as demonstrated by the audience responses to a version of this paper delivered to the Australian Homosexual Histories conference at the University of Melbourne in November 2013.

Western Australian author Gerald Marcus Glaskin (GMG; 16 December 1923-11 March 2000) wrote from life, using his experiences to continually expand his creative repertoire. In one sense, this was to be his downfall, as his life was unconventional for his time. Because he mined own experiences so much in his creative writing, his works eventually moved out of mainstream markets. However, this paper focuses on his financial success as a writer, details of which can be documented through study of the meticulous records kept by both GMG and his publisher, Barrie & Rockliff of London. Other scholarly analysis of the income received by authors is limited. Katherine Bode (2012) does not deal with the subject in her otherwise comprehensive quantitative analysis of Australian publishing. What little is known about the income of professional authors from this or other periods, and whether they were able to survive on the proceeds of their writing, is incidental to other research.

It is almost universally agreed that sustained second-person narration in fiction is hard to manage, and that second-person narrative voice is very rarely used because of this difficulty. Whether or not this is true, the employment of sustained second person narrative form in literary fiction in English has not been as prevalent as the corresponding first-person and third-person forms. One difficulty is that it directly addresses the reader, making the reader complicit with the narrative voice. But this can be used to very good effect, setting up a collaboration of reader and writer where 'you' becomes 'me'. This paper explores the use of sustained second-person narrative in G. M. Glaskin's No End to the Way and Peter Kocan's The Treatment.

A collection of short stories that engage with topics in contemporary Australian culture, on topics ranging from family dynamics to gay culture.

For most of the twentieth century, as it remained in much of the world, homosexuality was illegal in Australia. The country was also subject to publication censorship relatively draconian for an English-speaking nation. This combination ensured overt homosexual works were comparatively unknown in Australia, even as titles imported from other English-speaking countries. In the late 1960s and early 1970s, however, publications of the homosexual rights and gay liberation movements began to appear. These were soon joined by more commercial publications aligned to an increasingly overt gay subculture. While censorship continued to be imposed on these publishers and publications under State jurisdictions, and many struggled economically, a few managed to eke out an existence. While gay-targeted newspapers and magazines documented the emerging gay subculture and provided entertainment, a number of newly-established small presses concentrated on more literary endeavours and produced a considerable number of novels, poetic works and play scripts. A number of writers published by these gay presses were taken up by more established publishers and have since gone on to mainstream success. Newspapers and magazines are still a feature of the gay media in Australia, but have now been supplemented by online publications. In light of the lessening of targeted censorship in Australia, this chapter explores the emergence of overt gay narratives and recounts their evolution from that date.

Overt male homosexual narrative evolved over a century, first through characterisation and then through point of view, though this slow evolution was constrained by legal, social and ethical problems. It would take most of the twentieth century before a homosexual was seen to be an insider, that is, that there were literary works with an overt homosexual point of view. This paper examines the emergence of overt male homosexual narrative in Australian fiction and explores the ethical, legal and social dimensions of moving such narrative from outside to inside.

Gerry Glaskin was quite a guy, and quite a writer. With a prodigious output across a range of genres, he wrote nine novels, a number of dramatic works, children's fiction, science fiction, romance and short stories. He was not a writer parsimonious with words. Even at school, Glaskin was known for his long essays. In his memoir 'One way to Wonderland' (1984) he writes: 'How often, when telling us the subject of an essay we must write, did Mr Constantine [the English teacher] insist that we should fill at least two pages of the ruled foolscap paper we used. "But you, Glaskin," he would inevitably add, "must confine yourself to no more than ten!"'. Glaskin's writing owed much to his life's experiences. Even in fictional form, the majority of his works are closely modelled on events that happened to him. And, as we shall see, his was not an inconsequential life. Gerry Glaskin was born in Perth on 16 December 1923. His parents struggled to make ends meet, even though, or perhaps because, they managed to have seven children, of whom Gerry was the eldest by some years. The boy was academically gifted and selected for a scholarship to study at the prestigious Perth Modern School, the alma mater of such prominent West Australians as H.C. Coombs, Kim Beazley Senior, Bob Hawke, Sir Paul Hasluck, playwright Alan Seymour, entertainer Rolf Harris, economist Ross Garnaut and businesswoman Janet Holmes a Court. The school was opened in 1911 as Western Australia's first public senior secondary school, and it remains Western Australia's only academically selective school today. Glaskin began his writing there. As his confidence in his own abilities grew, he communicated with local writers in his first attempts at becoming a published author.

Never heard of him - that's the most common reaction when I mention Gerry Glaskin. Some Western Australians remember him, as they should: he was born and spent his last years there. Yet in between he was a bestselling novelist in the 1950s and 1960s. He was translated into French, German, Swedish, Russian, Spanish, Dutch, Italian, Danish, and Norwegian. Doubleday commissioned him to write a book about northern Australia. He was also a prolific short story writer, with two published collections. All of this is documented in the appendix and reference list of Dare Me! So how and why has Glaskin been erased from the Australian literary consciousness?

Educational publishing underpinned the Australian publishing industry's profitability and development throughout the twentieth century. While largely invisible to the general trade market, educational publishing comprised up to a third of the $2 billion Australian publishing market. Investment in educational publishing late in the 19th and early in the 20th century and again in the 1950s and 1960s led to increased general publishing by local and international publishers. For instance, Angus & Robertson achieved its pre-eminent position in Australian publishing in the middle of the 20th century supported by the profits of its strong school and university textbook lists and the famous editor Beatrice Davis was initially lured to the firm to work on textbooks before she established herself as a major gatekeeper for the publication of Australian literature. In the latter half of the 20th century, many publishers underwrote their trade publishing with profits from educational lists, which included major reading programs from Pearson, Mimosa, Macmillan and other publishers (a significant number of which were exported to other markets) and complex projects in subject areas such as mathematics and science. Globally, however, publishing companies were expanding in size, yet consolidating their output. As of 2011, four publishers - Pearson, McGraw-Hill, Cengage, and Wiley - dominated English language (and Australian) educational publishing. Only one, Pearson, continues to publish in the trade market. As well, the first decade of the 21st century saw many curriculum areas being serviced with digital materials with the educational publishing sector struggling to maintain its traditional role as supplier of educational materials. Trade publishers are now totally reliant on their own products, with no underwriting of risk from educational products. What impact these developments will have on Australian publishing as it confronts the digital challenge has yet to be determined.

This paper examines the emergence of overt male homosexual narrative in Australian fiction since the publication of Altman's 'Homosexual: Oppression and liberation' in 1972 and links the development of overt male homosexual narrative to the emergence of CAMP (established in 1970) and its offshoot, the gay liberation movement (established 1971). The first Australian novel with an openly homosexual point of view was 'No end to the way', published in 1965. It was banned on first publication. In 1972, Frank Moorhouse introduced gay characters into 'The Americans, baby'. This book is set in the same radical milieu from which the gay liberation movement grew. A gay press developed after the founding of CAMP, with 'William & John', 'Campaign', 'GLP: A journal of sexual politics' (or 'Gay Liberation Press'), 'Gay Changes' and other magazines beginning to publish overtly homosexual stories and poems in the 1970s. The first gay anthology, 'Edge city on two different plans', appeared in 1983, with a foreword by Altman. Distinctively homosexual works by Garry Dunne and Sasha Soldatow, both with connections to gay liberation, appeared in the 1980s. Altman's own 'The comfort of men' appeared in 1993. Nigel Triffitt's 'Cheap Thrills' (1994), Timothy Conigrave's 'Holding the man' (not a novel, but an AIDs memoirs), Graeme Aitken's '50 ways of saying fabulous', and Christos Tsiolkas' 'Loaded' (all 1995), Neal Drinnan's 'Pussy's bow' (1999), Henry von Doussa's 'The park bench' (2005) and Jeremy Fisher's 'Music from another country' (2009) all bear witness to the long legacy of gay liberation and the voice it gave to now openly homosexual writers.