Large kangaroos today roam long distances across the outback, often surviving droughts by moving in mobs to find new food when pickings are slim.

But not all kangaroos have been this way. In new research published today in PLOS One, we found giant kangaroos that once lived in eastern Australia were far less mobile, making them vulnerable to changes in local environmental conditions.

We discovered fossilised teeth of the now extinct giant kangaroo genus Protemnodon at Mount Etna Caves, north of Rockhampton, in central eastern Queensland. Analysing the teeth gave us a glimpse into the past movements of these extinct giants, hundreds of thousands of years ago.

Our results show Protemnodon did not forage across great distances, instead living in a lush and stable rainforest utopia. However, this utopia began to decline when the climate became drier with more pronounced seasons – spelling doom for Mount Etna’s giant roos.

Mount Etna Caves

The Mount Etna Caves National Park and nearby Capricorn Caves hold remarkable records of life over hundreds of thousands of years.

Fossils accumulated in the caves because they acted like giant pitfall traps and also lairs of predators such as thylacines, Tasmanian devils, marsupial lions, owls, raptors and the now-endangered ghost bats.

Large parts of the region were once mined for lime and cement. One of us (Hocknull) worked closely with mine managers to safely remove and stockpile fossil deposits from now-destroyed caves for scientific research which still continues.

As part of our study we dated fossils using an approach called uranium-series dating, and the sediment around them with a different technique called luminescence dating.

Our results suggest the giant kangaroos lived around the caves from at least 500,000 years ago to about 280,000 years ago. After this they disappeared from the Mount Etna fossil record.

At the time, Mount Etna hosted a rich rainforest habitat, comparable to modern day New Guinea. As the climate became drier between 280,000 and 205,000 years ago, rainforest-dwelling species including Protemnodon vanished from the area, replaced by those adapted to a dry, arid environment.

You are what you eat

Our study looked at how far Protemnodon travelled to find food. The general trend in mammals is that bigger creatures range farther. This trend holds for modern kangaroos, so we expected giant extinct kangaroos like Protemnodon would also have had large ranges.

Teeth record a chemical signature of the food you eat. By looking at different isotopes of the element strontium in tooth enamel, we can study the foraging ranges of extinct animals.

Varying abundances of strontium isotopes reflect the chemical fingerprint of the plants an animal ate, as well as the geology and soils where the plant grew. By matching chemical signatures in the teeth to local signatures in the environment, we could estimate where these ancient animals travelled to obtain food.

Eat local, die local

Our results showed Protemnodon from Mount Etna didn’t travel far beyond the local limestone in which the caves and fossils were found. This is much a smaller range than we predicted range based on their body mass.

We think the small foraging range of Protemnodon at Mount Etna was an adaptation to millions of years of stable food supply in the rainforest. They likely had little need to travel to find food.

Fossil evidence also suggests some species of Protemnodon walked on all fours rather than hopped. This would have constrained their ability to travel great distances, but is a great strategy for living in rainforests.

One question remains to be answered: if they didn’t need to move far to find food, why did they grow so big in the first place?

A local adaptation or a species trait?

The extinction of Australia’s megafauna – long-vanished beasts such the “marsupial lion” Thylacoleo and the three-tonne Diprotodon – has long been debated. It has often been assumed that megafauna species responded in the same way to environmental changes wherever they lived.

However, we may have underestimated the role of local adaptations. This particularly holds true for Protemnodon, with a recent study suggesting significant variation in diet and movement across different environments.

Similar small foraging ranges have been suggested for Protemnodon that lived near Bingara and Wellington Caves, New South Wales. Perhaps it was common for Protemnodon populations in stable habitats across eastern Australia to be homebodies – and this may have proved their Achilles’ heel when environmental conditions changed.

Extinction, one by one

As a rule, creatures with a small home range have a limited ability to move elsewhere. So if the something happens to their local habitat, they may be in big trouble.

At Mount Etna, Protemnodon thrived for hundreds of thousands of years in the stable rainforest environment. But as the environment became more arid, and resources increasingly patchy, they may have been unable to traverse the growing gaps between patches of forest or retreat elsewhere.

One key result of our study is that Protodemnon was locally extinct at Mt Etna long before humans turned up, which rules out human influence.

The techniques used in this study will help us to learn about how Australia’s megafauna responded to changing environments in more detail. This approach moves the Australian megafauna extinction debate away from the traditional continental catch-all hypotheses – instead we can look at local populations in specific sites, and understand the unique factors driving local extinction events.

Christopher Laurikainen Gaete, PhD Candidate, University of Wollongong; Anthony Dosseto, Professor of Geochemistry, University of Wollongong; Lee Arnold, Associate Professor in Earth Sciences, University of Adelaide, University of Wollongong, and Scott Hocknull, Senior Scientist and Curator, Geosciences, Queensland Museum, and Honorary Research Fellow, The University of Melbourne

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

There’s no shortage of things to feel angry about these days. Whether it’s politics, social injustice, climate change or the cost-of-living crisis, the world can feel like a pressure cooker.

Research suggests nearly one-quarter of the world’s population feels angry on any given day. While anger is a normal human emotion, if it’s intense and poorly managed, it can quickly lead to aggression, and potentially cause harm.

Feeling angry often can also have negative effects on our relationships, as well as our mental and physical health.

So how should you manage feelings of anger to keep them in check? Our new research suggests mindfulness can be an effective tool for regulating anger and reducing aggression.

What is mindfulness?

Mindfulness is the ability to observe and focus on your thoughts, emotions and bodily sensations in the present moment with acceptance and without judgement.

Mindfulness has been practised for thousands of years, most notably in Buddhist traditions. But more recently it has been adapted into secular programs to support mental health and emotional regulation.

Mindfulness is taught in a variety of ways, including in-person classes, residential retreats and through digital apps. These programs typically involve guided meditations, and practices that help people become more aware of their thoughts, feelings and surroundings.

Mindfulness is linked to a range of mental health benefits, including reduced anxiety, depression and stress.

Neuroscience research also suggests mindfulness is associated with reduced activity in brain regions linked to emotional reactivity, and greater activity in those involved in self-regulation (the ability to manage our thoughts, emotions and behaviours).

In this way, mindfulness could foster emotional awareness essential for the effective regulation of emotions such as anger. And when people are less overwhelmed by anger, they may be better able to think clearly, reflect on what matters and take meaningful action, rather than reacting impulsively or shutting down.

We reviewed the evidence

To better understand whether mindfulness actually helps with regulating anger and aggression, we conducted a meta-analysis. This is a study that combines the results of many previous studies to look at the overall evidence.

We analysed findings from 118 studies across different populations and countries, including both people who were naturally more mindful and people who were randomly assigned to take part in interventions aimed at increasing mindfulness.

People who were naturally more mindful were those who scored higher on questionnaires measuring traits such as present-moment awareness and non-judgmental thinking. We found these people tended to report less anger and behave less aggressively.

However, mindfulness isn’t just something you have or don’t have – it’s also a skill you can develop. And our results show the benefits of lower anger and aggression extend to people who learn mindfulness skills through practice or training.

We also wanted to know whether mindfulness might work better for certain people or in particular settings. Interestingly, our results suggest these benefits are broadly universal. Practising mindfulness was effective in reducing anger and aggression across different age groups, genders and contexts, including whether people were seeking treatment for mental health or general wellbeing, or not.

Some anger management strategies aren’t backed by science

To manage feelings of anger, many people turn to strategies that are not supported by evidence.

Research suggests “letting off steam” while thinking about your anger is not a healthy strategy and may intensify and prolong experiences of anger.

For example, in one experiment, research participants were asked to hit a punching bag while thinking of someone who made them angry. This so-called “cathartic release” made people angrier and more aggressive rather than less so.

Breaking things in rage rooms, while increasingly popular, is similarly not an evidence-based strategy for reducing anger and aggression.

On the other hand, our research shows there’s good evidence to support mindfulness as a tool to regulate anger.

Mindfulness may reduce anger and aggression by helping people become more aware of their emotional reactions without immediately acting on them. It can foster a non-judgmental and accepting stance toward difficult emotions such as anger, which may interrupt the cycle whereby anger leads to aggressive behaviour.

Mindfulness is not a magic bullet

All that said, it’s important to keep in mind that mindfulness is not a magic bullet or a quick fix. Like any new skill, mindfulness can be challenging at first, takes time to master, and works best when practised regularly.

It’s also important to note mindfulness may not be suitable for everyone – particularly when used as a standalone approach for managing more complex mental health concerns. For ongoing emotional challenges it’s always a good idea to seek support from a qualified mental health professional.

However, if you’re looking to dial down the impact of daily frustrations, there are plenty of accessible ways to give mindfulness a go. You can get started with just a few minutes per day. Popular apps such as Smiling Mind and Headspace offer short, guided sessions that make it easy to explore mindfulness at your own pace — no prior experience needed.

While mindfulness may not solve the problems that make us angry, our research shows it could help improve how we experience and respond to them.

Siobhan O'Dean, Research Fellow, The Matilda Centre for Research in Mental Health and Substance Use, University of Sydney; Elizabeth Summerell, Lecturer, School of Psychology, Faculty of Health and Medical Sciences, University of Adelaide, and Tom Denson, Professor of Psychology, UNSW Sydney

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Whether or not we’re alone in the universe is one of the biggest questions in science.

A recent study, led by astrophysicist Nikku Madhusudhan at the University of Cambridge, suggests the answer might be no. Based on observations from NASA’s James Webb Space Telescope, the study points to alien life on K2-18b, a distant exoplanet 124 light years from Earth.

The researchers found strong evidence of a chemical called dimethyl sulfide (DMS) in the planet’s atmosphere. On Earth, DMS is produced only by living organisms, so it appears to be a compelling sign of life, or “biosignature”.

While the new findings have made headlines, a look at the history of astrobiology shows similar discoveries have been inconclusive in the past. The issue is partly theoretical: scientists and philosophers still have no agreed-upon definition of exactly what life is.

A closer look

Unlike the older Hubble telescope, which orbited Earth, NASA’s James Webb Space Telescope is placed in orbit around the Sun. This gives it a better view of objects in deep space.

When distant exoplanets pass in front of their host star, astronomers can deduce what chemicals are in their atmospheres from the tell-tale wavelengths they leave in the detected light. Since the precision of these readings can vary, scientists estimate a margin of error for their results, to rule out random chance. The recent study of K2-18b found only a 0.3% probability that the readings were a fluke, leaving researchers confident in their detection of DMS.

On Earth, DMS is only produced by life, mostly aquatic phytoplankton. This makes it a persuasive biosignature.

The findings line up with what scientists already conjecture about K2-18b. Considered a “Hycean” world (a portmanteau of “hydrogen” and “ocean”), K2-18b is thought to feature a hydrogen-rich atmosphere and a surface covered with liquid water. These conditions are favourable to life.

So does this mean K2-18b’s oceans are crawling with extraterrestrial microbes?

Some experts are less certain. Speaking to the New York Times, planetary scientist Christopher Glein expressed doubt that the study represents a “smoking gun”. And past experiences teach us that in astrobiology, inconclusive findings are the norm.

Life as we don’t know it

Astrobiology has its origins in efforts to explain how life began on our own planet.

In the early 1950s, the Miller-Urey experiment showed that an electrical current could produce organic compounds from a best-guess reconstruction of the chemistry in Earth’s earliest oceans – sometimes called the “primordial soup”.

Although it gave no real indication of how life in fact first evolved, the experiment left astrobiology with a framework for investigating the chemistry of alien worlds.

In 1975, the first Mars landers – Viking 1 and 2 – conducted experiments with collected samples of Martian soil. In one experiment, nutrients added to soil samples appeared to produce carbon dioxide, suggesting microbes were digesting the nutrients.

Initial excitement quickly dissipated, as other tests failed to pick up organic compounds in the soil. And later studies identified plausible non-biological explanations for the carbon dioxide. One explanation points to a mineral abundant on Mars called perchlorate. Interactions between perchlorate and cosmic rays may have led to chemical reactions similar to those observed by the Viking tests.

Concerns the landers’ instruments had been contaminated on Earth also introduced uncertainty.

In 1996, a NASA team announced a Martian meteorite discovered in Antarctica bore signs of past alien life. Specimen ALH84001 showed evidence of organic hydrocarbons, as well as magnetite crystals arranged in a distinctive pattern only produced biologically on Earth.

More suggestive were the small, round structures in the rock resembling fossilised bacteria. Again, closer analysis led to disappointment. Non-biological explanations were found for the magnetite grains and hydrocarbons, while the fossil bacteria were deemed too small to plausibly support life.

The most recent comparable discovery – claims of phosphine gas on Venus in 2020 – is also still controversial. Phosphine is considered a biosignature, since on Earth it’s produced by bacterial life in low-oxygen environments, particularly in the digestive tracts of animals. Some astronomers claim the detected phosphine signal is too weak, or attributable to inorganically produced sulfur compounds.

Each time biosignatures are found, biologists confront the ambiguous distinction between life and non-life, and the difficulty of extrapolating characteristics of life on Earth to alien environments.

Carol Cleland, a leading philosopher of science, has called this the problem of finding “life as we don’t know it”.

Moving beyond chemistry

We still know very little about how life first emerged on Earth. This makes it hard to know what to expect from the primitive lifeforms that might exist on Mars or K2-18b.

It’s uncertain whether such lifeforms would resemble Earth life at all. Alien life might manifest in surprising and unrecognisable ways: while life on Earth is carbon-based, cellular, and reliant on self-replicating molecules such as DNA, an alien lifeform might fulfil the same functions with totally unfamiliar materials and structures.

Our knowledge of the environmental conditions on K2-18b is also limited, so it’s hard to imagine the adaptations a Hycean organism might need to survive there.

Chemical biosignatures derived from life on Earth, it seems, might be a misleading guide.

Philosophers of biology argue that a general definition of life will need to go beyond chemistry. According to one view, life is defined by its organisation, not the list of chemicals making it up: living things embody a kind of self-organisation able to autonomously produce its own parts, sustain a metabolism, and maintain a boundary or membrane separating inside from outside.

Some philosophers of science claim such a definition is too imprecise. In my own research, I’ve argued that this kind of generality is a strength: it helps keep our theories flexible, and applicable to new contexts.

K2-18b may be a promising candidate for identifying extraterrestrial life. But excitement about biosignatures such as DMS disguises deeper, theoretical problems that also need to be resolved.

Novel lifeforms in distant, unfamiliar environments might not be detectable in the ways we expect. Philosophers and scientists will have to work together on non-reductive descriptions of living processes, so that when we do stumble across alien life, we don’t miss it.

Campbell Rider, PhD Candidate in Philosophy – Philosophy of Biology, University of Sydney

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

The 1972 concert film Pink Floyd Live at Pompeii, back in cinemas this week, remains one of the most unique concert documentaries ever recorded by a rock band.

The movie captured the band on the brink of international stardom, released seven months before their breakout album Dark Side of the Moon, which would go on to sell 50 million copies and spend 778 weeks on the Billboard charts.

The film was the first time a rock concert took place in the ruins of an archaeological site. This intermingling of art and archaeology would change the way many thought of Pompeii.

The amphitheatre of Pompeii

The amphitheatre of Pompeii has quite a history as a venue for spectacles.

Constructed around 70 BCE, it was one of the first permanent constructed amphitheatres in Italy, designed to hold up to 20,000 spectators.

From graffiti and advertisements, we know it was used in antiquity for gladiatorial fights and displays and hunts of wild beasts and athletic contests.

Famously we are told by Roman historian Tactius in 59 CE a deadly brawl occurred between Pompeiians and residents of the nearby town of Nuceria during games, resulting in a ten-year ban on gladiatorial contests at the venue. The amphitheatre was destroyed by the eruption of Vesuvius in 79 CE.

There is a long tradition of authors, artists, filmmakers and designers taking inspiration from the site and its destruction. A 13-year-old Mozart’s visit to the Temple of Isis at the site inspired The Magic Flute in 1791.

In the rock music era, Pompeii has inspired numerous artists, especially around themes of death and longing. Cities in Dust (1985) by Siouxsie and the Banshees was perhaps the most famous until Bastille’s 2013 hit Pompeii. In The Decemberists’ Cocoon (2002), the destruction of Pompeii acts as a metaphor for the guilt and loss in the aftermath of the September 11 attacks.

Since 2016, the amphitheatre has hosted concerts – with audiences this time. Appropriately, one of the first was a performance by Pink Floyd’s guitarist David Gilmour. His show over two nights in July 2016 took place 45 years after first playing at the site.

But how did Pink Floyd come to play at Pompeii in 1972?

Rethinking rock concert movies

It was the peak era of rock concert documentaries. Woodstock (1970) and The Rolling Stone’s Gimme Shelter (1970), and other documentaries of the era, placed the cameras in the audience, giving the cinema-goer the same perspective as the concert audience.

As a concept, it was getting stale.

Filmmaker Adrian Maben had been interested in combining art with Pink Floyd’s music. He initially pitched a film of the band’s music over montages of paintings by artists such as Rene Magritte. The band rejected the idea.

Maben returned to them after a holiday in Naples, realising the ambience of Pompeii suited the band’s music. A performance without an audience provided the antithesis of the era’s concert films.

The performance would become iconic, particularly the scenes of Roger Waters banging a large gong on the upper wall of the amphitheatre, and the cameras panning past the band’s black road case to reveal the band in the ancient arena.

It was as far away from Woodstock as possible.

The performance was filmed over six days in October 1971 in the ancient amphitheatre, with the band playing three songs in the ancient venue: Echoes, A Saucerful of Secrets, and One of These Days.

Ancient history professor Ugo Carputi of the University of Naples, a Pink Floyd fan, had persuaded authorities to allow the band to film and to close the site for the duration of filming. Besides the film crew, the band’s road crew – and a few children who snuck in to watch – the venue was closed to the public.

In addition to the performance, the four band members were filmed walking over the volcanic mud around Boscoreale, and their performances in the film both were interspersed with images of antiquities from Pompeii.

The movie itself was fleshed out with studio performances in a Paris TV studio and rehearsals at Abbey Road Studios.

Marrying art and music

Famously the Pink Floyd film blends images of antiquities from the Naples Archaeological Museum with the band’s performances.

Roman frescoes and mosaics are highlighted during particular songs. Profiles of bronze statues meld with the faces of band members, linking past and present.

Later scenes have the band backdropped by images of frescoes from the famed Villa of the Mysteries and of the plaster casts of eruption victims.

The band’s musical themes of death and mystery link with ancient imagery, and it would have been the first time many audience members had seen these masterpieces of Roman art.

Pink Floyd Live at Pompeii marked a brave experiment in rock concert movies.

Watching it more than 50 years later, it is a timepiece of early 70s rock and a remarkable document of a band on the brink of fame.

Because of their progressive rock sound, sonic experimentation and philosophical lyrics, it was often said by Pink Floyd’s fans that they were “the first band in space”. They even eventually had a cassette of their music played in space.

But many are not aware of their earlier roots in the dust of ancient Pompeii. The re-release of the film gives an opportunity to enjoy the site’s unlikely role in music history.

Pink Floyd at Pompeii – MCMLXXII is in cinemas from Thursday.

Craig Barker, Head, Public Engagement, Chau Chak Wing Museum, University of Sydney

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Do you ever feel like you can’t stop moving after you’ve pushed yourself exercising? Maybe you find yourself walking around in circles when you come off the pitch, or squatting and standing and squatting again when you finish a run.

Sometimes the body knows what’s best for us, even if we’re not aware of the science.

Moving around after intense exercise actually helps the body recover faster. Here’s how it works – plus a tip for if you feel exactly the opposite (and just want to lie down).

What is ‘intense’ exercise?

There are different ways to measure exercise intensity. One is simply how hard it feels to you, known as the “rating of perceived exertion”.

This takes into account how fast you’re breathing, how much you’re sweating and how tired your muscles are. It also considers heart rate.

The average resting heart rate when you’re not exerting yourself is around 60–80 beats per minute, although this can vary between people.

The maximum healthy heart rate is based on subtracting your age from 220. So, if you’re 20 years old, that’s 200 beats per minute when you’re exercising as hard as you can.

This decreases as you age. If you’re 50 years old, your maximum heart rate would be around 170 beats per minute.

An increased heart rate helps pump blood faster to deliver fuel and oxygen to the muscles that are working hard. Once you stop exercising your body will begin its recovery, to return to resting levels.

Let’s look at how continuing to move after intense exercise helps do this.

Removing waste from the muscles

Whenever the body converts fuel into energy it also produces leftover substances, known as metabolic byproducts. This includes lactate (sometimes called lactic acid).

During intense exercise we need to burn more fuel (oxygen and glucose) and this can make the body produce lactate much more quickly than it can clear it. When lactate accumulates in the muscles it may delay their recovery.

We can reuse lactate to provide energy to the heart and brain and modulate the immune system. But to do this, lactate must be cleared from the muscles into the bloodstream.

After intense exercise, continuing to move your body – but less intensely – can help do this. This kind of active recovery has been shown to be more efficient than passive recovery (meaning you don’t move).

Returning blood to the heart

Intense exercise also makes our heart pump more blood into the body. The volume pumped to the muscles increases dramatically, while blood flow to other tissues – especially the abdominal organs such as the kidneys – is reduced.

Moving after intense exercise can help redistribute the blood flow and speed up recovery of the respiratory and cardiovascular systems. This will also clear metabolic byproducts faster.

After a long run, for example, there will be much more blood in your leg muscles. If you stand still for a long time, you may feel dizzy or faint, thanks to lowered blood pressure and less blood flow to the brain.

Moving your legs, whether through stretching or walking, will help pump blood back to the heart.

In fact around 90% of the blood returning from the legs via veins relies on the foot, calf and thigh muscles moving and pumping. The calf muscle plays the largest role (about 65%). Moving your heels up and down after exercising can help activate this motion.

What if you don’t feel like moving?

Maybe after exercise you just want to sit down in a heap. Should you?

If you’re too tired to do light movement such as stretching or walking, you may still benefit from elevating your legs.

You can lie down – research has shown blood from the veins returns more easily to the heart after exercise when you’re lying down, compared to sitting up, even if you’re still. Elevating your legs has an added benefit, as it reverses the effect of gravity and helps circulation.

Ken Nosaka, Professor of Exercise and Sports Science, Edith Cowan University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

No one goes into the legal profession thinking it is going to be easy. Long working hours are fairly standard, work is often completed to tight external deadlines, and 24/7 availability to clients is widely understood to be a norm, particularly in commercial and international practice.

But too often, the demands of law can create an unhealthy workplace environment. In 2021, the stress of high workloads, low job control, and risks of secondary trauma led SafeWork NSW to categorise legal work as “high risk” for fatigue hazards – putting it alongside night shift work, emergency services, and fly-in, fly-out roles.

To investigate this problem, we surveyed about 1,900 lawyers across Victoria, New South Wales and Western Australia in March and April last year.

We asked them about their workplace culture and its impact on wellbeing, about their levels of psychological distress, and whether they had experienced disrespectful behaviours at work.

We also asked whether they intended to leave either their employer or the legal profession in the near future.

Their answers allowed us to identify the type of workplace culture that is harmful to lawyers’ wellbeing. Here’s why fixing this problem matters to us all.

Unhealthy environments

Among the professionals we surveyed, about half found themselves in a workplace culture with negative effects on wellbeing.

A third of this group said their workplaces were characterised by poor working relationships, self-interest and pressure to cut corners or bend rules.

These poorer workplace cultures involved higher levels of psychological distress and more disrespectful behaviours from superiors and coworkers.

They were also characterised by a lack of effective wellbeing supports such as mental health leave arrangements or workload allocation practices.

Long working hours were common. More than half of participants (53%) said they worked more than 40 hours per week and 11% said they put in more than 60 hours.

About a third of the lawyers we surveyed wanted to quit their firm, while 10% planned to leave the profession, within a year.

Society can’t afford to ignore this problem. Lawyer wellbeing can directly affect the quality of legal services and may even lead to disciplinary action against individual lawyers. All of this can undermine public trust and confidence in the justice system.

Workload ‘cannot be sustained’

We invited participants to explain why they intended to leave the profession. Their answers are telling.

One mid-career lawyer at a large firm said:

I am in my 11th year of practice working as a Senior Associate at a top-tier firm. To put it bluntly, the work rate at which I am currently operating, which is required to meet the billable targets and budgets set for us, cannot be sustained for my whole working life – it’s too much.

A small-firm junior lawyer talked of the workload issues described by many:

The pay is not worth the stress. I can’t sleep because I’m constantly worried about deadlines or making mistakes, and I got paid more when I was a bartender. I love the work, but it’s a very tough slog and damaging my own wellbeing – for what?

Our data showed junior lawyers take a lot of the pressure, reflected in higher-than-average levels of psychological distress. Equally concerning was the extent to which senior lawyers with practice management responsibilities also reported above average distress.

Our research also showed the challenges extended beyond private practice and into government, legal aid and corporate “in-house” settings.

As one mid-career legal aid lawyer put it:

Lack of debriefing and supports, lack of formal mentoring and supervision, mental health toll, high workload and poor workplace culture, lack of training and supports to deal with clients in crisis, [mean it’s] not [a] family-friendly profession.

The positives

There was also good news. Three themes stood out in the responses from the 48% who told us they worked in positive workplace cultures. This suggests where support should be targeted.

For nearly two thirds of our sample, having good colleagues was the most important wellbeing support. As one mid-career lawyer put it:

Informal support such as debriefing with colleagues has been most beneficial for me.

Good flexible working and (mental health) leave arrangements came across as the most important practical support employers could provide.

Good workload allocation practices - and a willingness from managers to “reach out to discuss work-life balance” - make a real difference to peoples’ experience.

It matters to the rest of us

The legal profession and its regulators have been engaging with the wellbeing problem for a while now. Our findings suggest there is still more to be done.

For the profession as a whole we felt that there was still a need to develop greater understanding of the specific wellbeing needs of both junior lawyers and those managing them, as these are the two groups experiencing the most distress.

Legal regulatory bodies should work to better understand how economic drivers of legal practice, such as high workloads and billing expectations, can have negative consequences for wellbeing, and whether any regulatory levers could lessen these impacts.

The authors would like to acknowledge the significant contribution of Stephen Tang, clinical psychologist, in undertaking data analysis and coauthoring the original report.

Vivien Holmes, Emerita Professor, Australian National University; Julian Webb, Professor of Law, The University of Melbourne; Susan Ainsworth, Professor of Management and Marketing, The University of Melbourne, and Tony Foley, Professor of Law, Australian National University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

The Large Hadron Collider has been responsible for astounding advances in physics: the discovery of the elusive, long-sought Higgs boson as well as other new exotic particles, possible hints of new forces of nature, and more.

Located at the European Organization for Nuclear Research (CERN) on the border of France and Switzerland, the LHC is expected to run for another 15 years. Nevertheless, physicists are already planning what will come after it.

One of the most favoured proposals for CERN’s next step is the 70-year Future Circular Collider (FCC) project. More than three times the size of the LHC, this enormous proposed machine promises to resolve some mysteries of the universe – and undoubtedly reveal some new ones.

What will the Future Circular Collider do?

The LHC, which occupies a circular tunnel 27 kilometres in circumference, is currently the largest machine in the world. The FCC would be housed in a much larger 91km tunnel in the Geneva basin between the Jura mountains and the Alps.

The first stage of the FCC would be the construction and operation of a collider for electrons (the lightweight particles that make up the outer shell of atoms) and positrons (the antimatter mirror images of electrons). This collider would allow more precise measurements of the Higgs boson.

The second stage would be a collider for protons (heavier particles found in the cores of atoms). The LHC already collides protons, but the new collider would accelerate the protons up to more than seven times as much energy.

This increase in collision energy allows for the discovery of particles never produced by humanity before. It also brings with it technical challenges, such as the development of high-powered superconducting magnets.

Known unknowns

The most high-profile result from the LHC has been the discovery of the Higgs boson, which lets us explain why particles in the universe have mass: they interact with the so-called Higgs field which permeates all of space.

This was a great victory for what we call the Standard Model. This is the theory that, to the best of our current knowledge, explains all the fundamental particles in the universe and their interactions.

However, the Standard Model has significant weaknesses, and leaves some crucial questions unanswered.

The FCC promises to answer some of these questions.

For example, we know the Higgs field can explain the mass of heavy particles. However, it is possible that a completely different mechanism provides mass to lighter particles.

We also want to know whether the Higgs field gives mass to the Higgs boson itself. To answer these Higgs questions we will need the higher energies that the FCC will provide.

The FCC will also let us take a closer look at the interactions of very heavy quarks. (Quarks are the tiniest components of protons and some other particles.) We hope this may shed light on the question of why the universe contains so much more matter than antimatter.

And the FCC will help us look for new particles that might be dark matter, a mysterious substance that seems to pervade the universe.

Of course, there is no guarantee that the FCC will provide the answers to these questions. That is the nature of curiosity-driven research. You know the journey, but not the destination.

Competing colliders

The FCC is not the only major particle physics project under consideration.

Another is a proposed 20-kilometre machine called the International Linear Collider, which would likely be built in Japan.

The US has several projects on the go, mainly detectors of various kinds. It also supports an “offshore Higgs factory”, located in Europe or Japan.

One project that may concern the FCC’s backers is the planned 100 kilometre Chinese Electron Positron Collider (CEPC), which has significant similarities to the FCC.

This poses a dilemma for Europe: if China goes ahead with their project, is the FCC still worthwhile? On the other hand, CERN chief Fabiola Gianotti has argued that the FCC is necessary to keep up with China.

High costs

The decision on the FCC won’t be taken lightly, given the large cost associated with the project.

CERN estimates the first stage will cost 15 billion Swiss francs (around US$18 billion or A$28 billion at current exchange rates), spread out over 12 years. One third of this cost is the tunnel construction.

The size of the sum has attracted criticism. However, a CERN spokesperson told the Agence France-Press that up to 80% of the cost would be covered by the organisation’s current annual budget.

The second stage of FCC, which would reuse the 91km tunnel as well as some existing LHC infrastructure, is currently estimated to cost 19 billion Swiss francs. This costing carries a large uncertainty, as the second stage would not be commissioned until 2070 at the earliest.

Benefits beyond science

Pure science has not been the only benefit of the LHC. There have been plenty of practical technological spinoffs, from medical technology to open and free software.

One specific example is the Medipix chips developed for a detector at the LHC, which are now used across multiple areas in medical imaging and material science.

For the past 70 years, CERN has served as a fantastic model for peaceful and efficient international collaboration. Beyond its astonishing scientific output, it has also produced significant advances in engineering that have spread through society. Building the FCC will be an investment in both technology and curiosity.

Tessa Charles, Accelerator Physicist, Monash University and Ulrik Egede, Professor of Physics, Monash University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

In 1945, when Yoko Ono was 12, her home city of Tokyo was firebombed. With her mother and siblings, she fled to the safety of a farming village in Nagano Prefecture. Food was scarce. During this time, Ono, as the eldest child, often had to help find provisions for her family. At one point, while she and her brother Keisuke were lying down looking up at the sky, she asked him to create a dream menu: if access was no obstacle, what foods would he choose?

Her prompt, fired by her imagination, inspired hope for better days ahead. Her brother believes this was her first work of conceptual art.

This is difficult to argue with, given so much of Ono’s art has recurring motifs of hope and joyful human interaction. David Sheff’s Yoko is the latest offering in a new generation of books revisiting Ono and her legacy within popular culture. It creates a portrait of an artist – now 92 – who has championed the power of positivity, no matter the adverse conditions.

Review: Yoko: A Biography – David Sheff (Simon & Schuster)

Ono’s career as a conceptual artist was well underway by the time she met John Lennon in 1966, when he visited her about-to-be-staged solo exhibition in London. Nonetheless, when the Beatles broke up in 1970, a misogynistic narrative swiftly blamed her for playing a substantial role in the band’s demise.

Journalists and fans accused Ono of being a “homewrecker” (Lennon was still married when they became a couple), but the conceptual artist’s even greater sin seemed to be that she was not a blonde, leggy model typical of rock-star girlfriends.

It is little wonder that, a few years later, some of her songwriting would call upon the image of the witch – a historical figure especially symbolic of women’s misrepresentation within society. Ono’s reclamation, through songs like Woman of Salem (1973) and Yes, I’m a Witch (1974) – also the title of her 2007 album – is fitting.

The 1968 release of the Lennon–Ono album Two Virgins, which featured experimental music and had the couple pose nude for its cover, prompted a moral panic. As Sheff writes,

people went from attacking Yoko as a homewrecker to accusing her of destroying Lennon as an artist. Talk of John being under Yoko’s spell percolated; she was forcing him to do outrageous – nutty, abhorrent – things.

Few would deny Ono – as artist, musician and woman – has experienced her own set of witch trials. Some still blame her for the Beatles’ breakup, see her conceptual art as nonsensical garbage, or believe her own musical output is nothing more than a screaming banshee’s wail.

Correctives to such unforgiving and tired narratives are necessary. This is why David Sheff’s biography is so important.

Biographer and ‘good friend’

Sheff admits from the outset that his position as biographer is paired with that of a longtime friend. But he also assures readers he did his “best to strip the varnish away” to reveal a more authentic Ono. That close proximity to his subject makes for a compelling account.

The journalist met Lennon and Ono in September 1980, spending several weeks with them to write a magazine profile. They were happy with the resulting article. The day after he spoke with them about it, Lennon was killed. Sheff became good friends with Ono and got to know their son Sean, becoming one of those who helped her survive “the season of glass” following Lennon’s murder.

In 2002, she and Sean “helped save the life” of Sheff’s son, during a period of homelessness and drug addiction. Ono later granted Sheff permission to title the memoir about his son “Beautiful Boy”, after Lennon’s song.

He interviews scores of family members, friends and colleagues, while drawing upon his own experiences with Ono. In a telling passage, which speaks to Ono’s interest in creative visualisation, Sheff explains that she:

believed that the words she used – in everything from song titles to conversation – would influence the future. She wanted to fill her brain with positive thoughts, not negative ones.

Some have refused to believe this benevolent Yoko Ono exists.

Privilege and emotional poverty

Ono was born on February 18 1933 in Tokyo, to one of Japan’s wealthiest families. Her father was a bank executive while her mother’s family, the Yasudas, were responsible for what later became Fuji Bank. Despite her privileged upbringing, which also saw her family move between Japan and the United States, she felt her parents were emotionally distant. As she grew older, she received mixed messages about what they saw as her purpose in life: was it marriage or a career?

Ono was the first woman to be accepted to study philosophy at the elite Gakushuin University in the fall of 1952, but soon left for the US to study at the women’s liberal arts college Sarah Lawrence, outside New York. There, she focused on composing music and writing poems and stories, while also investigating the city’s art scene – and met and married her first husband, composer Toshi Ichiyanagi, in 1956. Soon after, she was mixing with visual artists and composers like John Cage, who was both. By 1960, she was hosting art and music events at a loft she rented in New York’s bohemian downtown. Performing and exhibiting her own work soon followed.

Before she met and married Lennon, Ono was married a second time, in 1963, to Anthony Cox. Cox was an American painter, sculptor and film producer who rescued her from a mental hospital in Tokyo, where she was placed after a series of suicide attempts that followed a barrage of criticism of her work. “She was trying to connect through her work, but she’d never felt more alone,” Sheff writes.

With Cox, who she was still married to when she met Lennon, she had a daughter, Kyoko, in 1963. A year later – with her husband’s encouragement – a book called Grapefruit, filled with Ono’s “instruction pieces”, was published. Despite the deep despair she had felt, her life had turned around and she was newly motivated to share her art with the world.

Playful positivity

Sheff smartly conveys the first moments Ono and Lennon realised they were on the same wavelength: as artists and as people. In their first meeting, when Lennon visited Ono’s Indica exhibition in London, he climbed a ladder and held up a magnifying glass to the ceiling, where he saw the word yes.

Another piece he noticed was Painting to Hammer a Nail, which comprised a white wooden panel, a hammer on a chain, and a can of nails just beneath. He asked to hammer a nail in, but as the exhibit was not yet open, Ono did not want him to do it. After another moment, she agreed he could, if he paid five shillings to do so. Lennon then offered her an imaginary five shillings to hammer in an equally imaginary nail.

Ono was charmed by the playful response. Lennon was struck with the positivity and humour inherent in Ono’s work: it contradicted his view of avant-garde art as pretentious and overly self-serious.

Sheff points out Ono’s work often asks audiences to imagine and create with her. Famously, her “instruction pieces”, which first gained visibility during the 1960s (helped by her book Grapefruit), asked those interacting with the art to do something or think about certain things. Here, the artist and audience were actively working together.

In Self Portrait (1965), a mirror tucked into an envelope meant the portrait in question was not of Ono, but of the person glimpsing their reflection, Sheff writes. Ono did not summon her audience into a world of whimsy for whimsy’s sake, but into a space where artist and audience were co-creating new vantage points from which to admire the world’s everyday wonders.

Mrs Yoko Ono Lennon

By March 1969, Ono was officially Mrs Yoko Ono Lennon. Their marriage was life-changing in myriad ways: both truly felt they had found their perfect match. In 1975, they would welcome a son, Sean. The couple collaborated in art and music, but the union was not beloved by all.

Criticism of Ono ran the gamut from descriptions of her as an oddball interloper in Lennon’s music-making to outright racist remarks because she was Japanese. Sheff shares glimpses that depict just how mean-spirited some of the 1970s media coverage was. But despite the negativity the couple encountered, they enjoyed a loving, meaningful and productive partnership.

Ono’s world changed forever on December 8 1980, when her husband was shot and killed outside their New York home. She was beside him when it happened. Sheff recounts his memories of her unimaginable grief and the resilience she somehow found in the aftermath of Lennon’s murder. Since her husband’s death, she has dedicated a substantial portion of her life to championing Lennon’s legacy, as well as advocating for gun control in the US.

Ono’s own artistic accomplishments and place in the historical record are rightly given full attention throughout the book. Recent retrospective exhibits, including the Tate Modern’s 2024 Yoko Ono: Music of the Mind in London, demonstrate the longstanding cultural impact of her conceptual art. But Sheff also provides welcome insights into her musical career.

‘First female punk rocker’

Ono’s 1974 sold-out tour of Japan is a noteworthy inclusion, as her musical output has received more than its share of negative criticism. Even in 2025, there are memes that assert Ono’s music is unlistenable and among the worst ever created. Anyone familiar with her discography, however, knows most of her work features singing (not screaming). But it has been difficult to pry Ono’s reputation away from her more avant-garde forays into music.

In 2017, Ono was officially credited with co-writing 1971’s Imagine, with her late husband. A more holistic reappraisal of her music has been underway for some time too. Sean Lennon is quoted saying a good number of musicians from his generation always have appreciated and celebrated Ono’s more experimental sounds. As a musician himself, Sean is influenced and inspired by both parents’ work, and he has collaborated with his mother on several occasions.

Gen-X icon Kurt Cobain cited Ono as “the first female punk rocker”, Sheff writes, placing her in a genre where her so-called “screaming” would be a badge of honour, rather than worthy of derision. As a fellow Gen-Xer, I was delighted when, in the early 1990s, I discovered one of my favourite bands, Redd Kross, had helped create a Yoko Ono tribute band of sorts, the Tater Totz – who Sean mentions while discussing his generation’s appreciation of Ono.

Benevolent magic

This thoughtful, engaging biography prompts readers to put aside their preconceptions and reimagine Ono. It suggests she is a force of nature who has made a significant impact on our culture – for good, rather than ill. The book’s cover serves as a fitting preview: a black-and-white photo of its smiling subject.

Sheff asserts at the beginning that he is not looking to “depict Yoko as either a saint or a sinner”. Nonetheless, he offers a much-needed antidote for the decades of venomous critiques directed her way. Considering the amount of public ridicule that Ono has faced for a good portion of her 92 years, it is important more people have a better understanding of who she is, separating myth from reality.

Sheff’s Yoko works well towards achieving this goal. The book offers a nuanced portrait of both the woman and the artist, while showcasing Ono’s creative work as a form of benevolent magic.

Christine Feldman-Barrett, Senior Lecturer in Cultural Sociology, Griffith University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Starting high school is one of the most significant transitions young people make in their education. Many different changes happen at once – from making new friends to getting used to a new school environment and different behaviour and academic expectations.

What do young people think about this crucial time in their lives?

In our new research we spoke to ten students in Year 7 at a co-educational school in Perth, Western Australia in 2023. Students were interviewed in Term 3 and asked to share their thoughts about what the move to high school was like. We used a focus group to allow young people to explore their thoughts in a supportive environment.

Our current study is on a small scale. But it contributes to the growing body of research showing the importance of supporting students’ emotional wellbeing during school transitions.

Big changes take time

One of the key things students discussed was how it took time to adjust to high school.

This included managing their time to fit in new study commitments, such as homework for multiple subjects. They also had to locate new classrooms: “trying to go around the school and find them was hard”.

They noted how “different teachers have different rules […] so you gotta remember that and where you’re going”. Other students explained how there was “too much stuff for my brain to handle”.

As another student talked about the pressure to be organised:

It’s hard work going in from Year 6 primary school to Year 7. I can tell you that much. […] we’ve been expected from the first week to remember our timetable, be organised, not forget anything and know our classes […] it’s a lot of pressure and stress on you because we also get bucketloads of homework as well because we don’t get enough time to finish our work.

Adjusting to new friendship dynamics

Previous research has found when students start high school they are “more focussed on building new relationships and maintaining old friends”. They will then shift their focus to academic matters “later on”.

Students in our study certainly discussed the importance of friends. Some students had looked forward to making new friends and were enjoying being able to “make some proper friends that you can actually have a proper relationship with”.

Others spoke about their worries about not knowing anyone or having any friends (“I was always questioning myself. Am I going to make any friends?”). Others found their friendship groups changed from primary school (“I don’t talk to them as much […] it’s kind of not the same with them).

Students also talked about how working out new friendships took time.

you’ll find that yes, you might be friends […] but then you might find that they’re not the person who you thought they would be and you might not really want to be with them.

A lot more work

All students observed there was an increased workload of Year 7. Many students said they did not feel prepared for the volume of work and the time frames in which they were expected to complete it.

Some students "found it stressful to keep on top of work”. For some “the homework load and the amount of tests that we have and assessments” were the least enjoyable features of high school. They said it felt like in Year 7, “everything is about academics”.

But students also said they enjoyed being able to do a wider range of subjects. And the hands-on subjects such as cooking and design and technology helped them balance out more intense, academic subjects.

What can help Year 7s?

While students outlined challenges about moving from Year 6 to Year 7, they also identified three things to help make the transition easier.

1. A support network: students stressed it was important to have a support network, whether informally through fellow students, staff or a parent or formally with counselling. This is something schools can encourage with buddy groups or peer support.

2. Extra time: students talked about the importance of teachers giving them extra time to complete work and to get used to new places and processes at high school. They were grateful to teachers who “let you develop in the classroom”.

3. Transition programs: students said specific Year 7 transition programs – that prepare students for the new logistics and expectations – would also help. One student suggested a term in Year 6 should “replicate what it feels like to be in Year 7”.

Katherine Stevens, PhD Candidate, Education, Murdoch University and Peter R. Whipp, Dean and Head of School of Education, Murdoch University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

After decades of Hollywood showcasing white-picket-fence celebrity smiles, the world has fallen for White Lotus actor Aimee Lou Wood’s teeth.

Wood was bullied for her looks in her youth and expressed gratitude for the positive comments she received about her teeth since appearing on White Lotus. She also joked that people shouldn’t take to drastic measures like filing teeth to copy her famous gap.

But social media influencers are promising that teeth filing is a quick way to achieve a straight smile. Some influencers even use electric nail drills to cut gaps between their front teeth.

A few of my patients admit to taking a nail file to “buff” or file jagged edges off their teeth. Many do this without understanding what they are cutting away.

Here’s why you should think twice about filing your teeth at home, and why we as dentists or orthodontists occasionally resort to this.

When might a dentist file a tooth?

Dentists and orthodontists occasionally file a tooth’s enamel, known as enameloplasty, to conservatively smooth-down a chipped tooth, or even-out a smile.

But adjustments to a person’s smile are minute, and always limited to the superficial enamel layer of the tooth.

Why don’t dentists routinely file teeth?

Dentists and orthodontists are particular about what and when we cut because teeth don’t grow back like fingernails or hair.

So what is a tooth? A tooth is like an egg, with an outer diamond-like lustrous crystal enamel coat that envelops the hard yet springy dentine.

The enamel and dentine envelop a central chamber – containing blood vessels, cells and nerves – called the pulp.

The outer periphery of the pulp is surrounded by and nourishes special dentine-making cells called odontoblasts.

The odontoblasts are similar to our bone-making cells but don’t have the capacity to regenerate. These cells eventually give way to age-related changes or trauma.

Our enamel-making cells die when our teeth cut through our gums as children, which means we can no longer make new, or repair damaged, enamel.

So damaged enamel or dentine on the outer surface of the tooth cannot self-repair.

Cutting your teeth without sealing and filling them can leave the tooth exposed, destroying the previously well-insulated pulp and causing sensitivity and pain.

Infections can occur because the bacteria from the plaque inside your mouth travels into the tooth and inflames the pulp.

And just like a cut on your skin, the pulp inflames and swells as part of the healing process. But your pulp is encased in a hard enamel-dentine chamber, so it has no room to expand and swell, leading to a throbbing toothache.

What can you do if you want to change your teeth?

You can change your smile without compromising the integrity of your teeth. Dentists can even create or close gaps.

And we will always offer conservative options, including “no treatment”, to keep as many of your teeth whole and healthy as possible.

Sometimes, your dentists and or orthodontists may offer options to:

• use braces to move teeth. Moving teeth can create a different smile, and sometimes change the shape and position of your jaws, lips and cheeks

• whiten teeth to remove superficial stains to make your smile look more visually even

• adapt white resin fillings or veneers to add and change the shape of teeth, with little or no tooth cutting required.

If you’re concerned about the look of your teeth, talk to your dentist or orthodontist about options that won’t damage your teeth and make them last the distance.

Don’t forget that Aimee Lou Wood’s iconic smile makes her stand out from the crowd. Your smile is what makes you special, and is part of who you are.

Arosha Weerakoon, Senior Lecturer and General Dentist, School of Dentistry, The University of Queensland

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

In a year filled with centenaries of famous novels, including Virginia Woolf’s Mrs Dalloway, F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby and Franz Kafka’s The Trial, another novel also quietly turns 100. William was published in 1925 by the once-celebrated, now largely forgotten, E.H. Young.

William was Young’s most successful novel. It sold more than 68,000 copies and was reprinted 20 times before 1948. It was William which established Young’s reputation as a great writer.

It follows the life of William and Kate Nesbitt and their grown-up children, tracing their trials and tribulations as modern life butts up against traditional values. One of the daughters, Lydia, leaves her husband to live with a novelist. William, a shipowner and the family’s steady centre, supports her. Kate, steeped in traditional respectability, cannot.

Two issues lie at the heart of the novel: the role of women and domestic life. Through Kate and William’s relationship, Young breaks new ground as a writer. She explores a later stage of life, when children have grown up. The husband and wife spend time alone and find themselves at odds.

This kind of astute characterisation exemplifies Young’s writing. As with many of Young’s novels, romantic love plays a very small part. The narrative emphasis falls, instead, on other types of relationships.

Women are seen to bear the main burdens of marriage and family life. Again and again, her characters rail against the smallness of middle-class female life and its social conventions.

Looking for something good? Cut through the noise with a carefully curated selection of the latest releases, live events and exhibitions, straight to your inbox every fortnight, on Fridays. Sign up here.

Place and psyche

The novel’s central tension plays out not only in the family, but also in the city they inhabit. William spans the docks and suburbs of fictional Radstowe, a thinly disguised Bristol.

As in Mrs Dalloway, place and psyche are deeply connected. Young uses the physical and social geography of Bristol to examine how women move through a world of unspoken rules.

Young lived in Bristol for 15 years. Most of her novels are set there – or rather in “Upper Radstowe”, her fictional version of real life suburban Clifton. She turned the city’s bridges, rivers and steep class divides into metaphors for the pressures placed on women navigating early 20th-century life.

In William, her characters feel real because they are flawed. The conflict between Lydia’s modern values and Kate’s traditional ones doesn’t resolve cleanly. Young isn’t interested in moralising. Instead, she observes. Her sharp wit, psychological acuity and feel for the rhythms of domestic life make William both an engrossing family novel and a quietly radical one.

Who was the woman behind Radstowe?

Emily Hilda Young was born in 1880 and died in 1949. She wrote 11 novels and was widely read in her day. Four of her novels were made into BBC radio dramas. Her 1930 novel Miss Mole was televised by the BBC in 1980.

Like many of her characters, Young led an unconventional life. During the first world war she worked as a stable hand and in a munitions factory. Her husband, a solicitor named Arthur Daniell, went off to fight. After Daniell was killed at Ypres in 1917, Young moved to London and got a job in a school where her married lover, Ralph Henderson, was the headmaster.

She was also a keen mountaineer in an era when there were few women climbers. She even pioneered and led others along a route, now known as Hope, in the Carneddau mountains in Eryri (Snowdonia) in 1915.

This quiet radicalism filters into her fiction. Her characters are often sharp-tongued, independent and disillusioned by the roles they’ve been expected to play.

It’s hard to place Young in a neat category, however. Her novels can hardly be described as romances. Love is often portrayed as destructive or imprisoning. Young was a feminist and campaigned for votes for women, but she saw human failings in both men and women. She admired strength of character in spite of gender.

If anything, she’s a 20th-century Jane Austen. Her narratives are witty portrayals of social and family life with psychological depth. In Young, though, there’s a mixture of openness and coldness, and a sarcastic sense of humour which emerges spontaneously. At times, it catches you off guard.

Like the best realist writers, Young’s world and its characters are richly drawn. And yet unlike Thomas Hardy or Leo Tolstoy, for instance, Young isn’t interested in tragedy or melodrama. Small troubles are overcome and people make up, even if it doesn’t result in a traditional happy ending.

Young’s legacy has faded, perhaps because her novels sit between genres: not quite realist, not quite modernist, not quite romantic. But as literary anniversaries prompt readers to revisit old favourites, there’s room to bring back overlooked voices.

For readers interested in the inner lives of women, in family dynamics, in novels where place and psychology are intertwined, E.H. Young is worth discovering. This year, rather than returning to the worlds of Clarissa Dalloway and Jay Gatsby, you could instead take a detour to Upper Radstowe, where quiet, deeply human dramas still unfold.

Rebecca Hutcheon, Research Fellow at the Faculty of Business and Creative Industries, University of South Wales

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

The new documentary One to One: John & Yoko offers an illuminating look into John Lennon’s post-Beatles activism with his partner Yoko Ono. It captures an early 1970s climate that was charged with political unrest and media saturation.

Rather than perpetuate the simplified myth of Lennon as a lone revolutionary figure, the film spotlights Ono’s equally influential role in their shared artistic and social endeavours. The film also highlights how Lennon and Ono aimed to galvanise a generation that had grown apathetic and disillusioned after the perceived failure of the 1960s “flower power” to deliver genuine social change.

The film adopts a pop-art, “channel surfing” aesthetic that situates the viewer in a recreated version of Lennon and Ono’s Greenwich Village apartment. This form plays on Lennon’s own television addiction. The story unfolds amid rapid cuts between Richard Nixon reelection speeches, anti-war demonstrations and playful consumer ads for laundry soap or ground beef – as if the viewer is surfing television channels.

These scenes coalesce into a surreal tapestry of commercialism and counterculture. The interplay echoes the way Lennon and Ono saw pop culture and radical activism as inescapably intertwined discourses. It underscores how even seemingly mundane aspects of consumer life impinged on their activism and vice versa.

Looking for something good? Cut through the noise with a carefully curated selection of the latest releases, live events and exhibitions, straight to your inbox every fortnight, on Fridays. Sign up here.

Lennon’s politics had emerged during his time as a Beatle, as evidenced in the song Revolution (1968). But it was Ono’s avant-garde sensibility that nudged him into more radical territory – both musically and socially.

I’ve researched Ono’s comedic artistry in her performance art. So I found the way One to One portrays Ono seamlessly blending her artistic principles with raw emotional outcries onstage especially compelling.

Her presence surfaces most powerfully in her onstage performance of Don’t Worry Kyoko (Mummy’s Only Looking for Her Hand in the Snow). There, her raw, piercing screams function as a form of cathartic protest rather than mere provocation. Despite widespread media ridicule (such as the infamous Chuck Berry footage that resurfaces on the internet every now and then), One to One clarifies that Ono’s screams constitute a highly personal mode of expression and resistance.

Later in the film, Lennon’s own raw performance of his song Mother (1970) reveals how much Ono’s techniques informed his own. The documentary explores the emotional origins behind Ono’s shrieks, situating them within the context of primal scream therapy. This provides an interesting background to Lennon’s own wailing on Mother, a song about the lingering feeling of abandonment he had experienced since childhood.

The film highlights a mutual borrowing. Lennon was not only the rock artist providing Ono exposure on the world’s stage but also a beneficiary of her experimental practices. Throughout the film, the couple are shown workshopping protest songs, connecting with countercultural figureheads such as poet Allen Ginsberg and activist Jerry Rubin, and aiding in counter-cultural protest of the American prison system.

This sense of reciprocity between the couple is at the core of One to One.

Complementary forces

The One to One Benefit Concerts in August of 1972 at Madison Square Garden are at the epicentre of this film. Far from a publicity stunt, the shows sought tangible outcomes. They ultimately raised over US$1.5 million (£1,149,000) for Willowbrook State School, a facility for children with disabilities. Coincidentally, Lennon and Ono learned about the school through watching TV.

The film includes an emotional scene of the children from Willowbrook playing in a park while Lennon performs Imagine. It shows how the song was never intended to canonise Lennon as a saint, but was rather to encourage social change.

Although their plans to bail out people in prison on a Free The People tour fell through, Lennon and Ono’s capacity for integrating live music with direct engagement resonates in the concert footage.

The film devotes considerable screen time to the concerts and crowd reactions. This portrays the physical energy of Lennon’s brand of rock ‘n’ roll and Ono’s more avant-garde flair as complementary forces. What emerges is a dynamic synergy, both onstage and off, that positions them as co-leaders of their own brand of pop activism.

Towards the end of the film is footage of Ono delivering a speech about the ridicule she has faced in society and performing the song Age 39 (Looking Over from My Hotel Window) at the First International Feminist Conference at Harvard University in 1973.

This segment includes home video footage of Ono walking among the witch sites of Salem, Massachusetts, symbolising her shifting role in society. She explains that she was “upgraded” from a “bitch” to a “witch”. One to One’s portrayal of Ono as a collaborator of Lennon’s rather than a reduction of her to a romantic partner points to how the narrative tide is changing, and Ono is finally getting her due recognition.

One to One captures a moment when their combined artistry, activism, and mutual exchange of vocal techniques converged – creating an indelible record of how two personalities shaped protest music, pop culture and each other.

Stephanie Hernandez, PhD Candidate, Literature and Music, University of Liverpool

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.