A trio of A4 paperbacks from Black Dog Books uses an enticing format, with strong, graphic covers, and titles that suggest a degree of ambiguity about their subjects. Although one is inclined to ask whether we need another book on the first two subjects – Paula Hunt’s Outlaw Son: The Story of Ned Kelly (Black Dog Books $16.99, 32 pp, 9781742030784) and Nicholas Brasch’s Gallipoli: Reckless Valour ($16.99, 32 pp, 9781742030258) – the third title is topical: HMAS Sydney: The Mystery of Australia’s Greatest Naval Disaster ($16.99, 32 pp, 9781742030791), by Mike Lefroy.

The production quality of these three books is high: there are clear contents pages and thorough indexes, with glossaries and lists of references for further exploration. Each book contains a narrative element for those who want to read the events chronologically, accompanied by snippets and anecdotes in text boxes for those who prefer their history in snapshots. Much attractive and informative visual material supplements the written text, from timelines to famous works of art about the subject (Ned Kelly), maps and photographs (including that most moving photograph of the crew of the HMAS Sydney). The authors suggest that learning about the past entails asking hard questions and that the past does not readily give up its secrets.

Hunt presents the social and political context of the times in which Kelly grew up, and the family circumstances that shaped him. His own words, from the Jerilderie and Cameron letters, punctuate the text. Members of Kelly’s gang and family are given life, as are his adversaries. While Hunt presents the bushranger’s transgressions, and the title hints at the complexity with which he continues to be viewed, young readers are likely to see him as a courteous, flawed advocate of the underdog. This title serves as an introduction to Kelly. References at the end inspire pursuit of a man who continues to intrigue, despite all the books written about him.

Brasch opens his version of the Gallipoli story by asking why Australians and New Zealanders consider such a monumental disaster a defining national event. What of the origins of World War I? How did so many Australians and New Zealanders come to be involved in such a distant conflict? Brasch, skilled in portraying a past Australia very different from the present one, uses lively anecdotes to evoke a picture of the diggers whose behaviour in Egypt is presented as larrikinism by the dour British. He builds up rich detail to help answer his opening question. In his answer and his choice of material, Brasch perpetuates the Anzac myth. This is a history of event rather than experience; of heroism rather than the costs of war.

Lefroy, employing the present tense, describes the encounter between the Kormoran and the HMAS Sydney. He captures the tension of the short, deadly conflict and the puzzles surrounding the fate of both ships. The mystery is filled with truth and lies, trust and mistrust. Lefroy intertwines the personal with the strategies of war: crucial decisions are made by Captain Detmers and Captain Burnett, men he sketches adroitly. When he moves to the search for the Sydney, Lefroy retains his focus on the personal, on the lives affected – Australian and German – and the poignancy of finding the resting place of 700 men. Lefroy highlights still unanswered questions and invites young readers to stay updated through resources he provides. A recent report in the press placed blame on Burnett’s decision to put the Sydney in the Kormoran’s firing range. This book is much more than a history of events; the reader cannot fail to be affected by the loss of so many lives or by the tenacity of those determined to locate the Sydney and the Kormoran.

The rise of civilisation, and the potential and effect of the petrol engine, have inspired two authors. John Long, in The Big Picture Book of Human Civilisation (Allen & Unwin, $32.99 hb, 48 pp, 9781741757002), tackles a grand historical narrative: the development of mankind from hunter-gatherer to technology primo, from the last Ice Age to a prediction for the next three hundred years. Long knows the sort of information that fascinates, and presents it in clear prose. He uses lifetimes as a framework to help young readers appreciate the time spans in which society developed, and this is complemented by small maps on each page. The left-hand pages contain the broad narrative, such as the spread of population from Europe to South America; the right-hand ones provide interesting detail, such as the world’s first large town, Jericho; its first city, Catal Hoyuk (in which men and women had equal status); the arts (musical instruments, pottery, jewellery, sculpture); and agriculture (wine, domestication of animals, growing of crops). The development of thinking, and its expressions in mathematics, astronomy and scientific knowledge are detailed. Thankfully, Rosalind Franklin is mentioned with Francis Crick and James Watson. William Wilberforce is there: this occasions the first reference to the abolition of slavery. But there is no acknowledgment that slavery persists today. Gandhi is presented as teaching peaceful resistance, but not to what. Long uses concurrency as a theme: for example, he links the beginnings of the Great Wall of China (‘the longest cemetery in the world’) and the birth of Christ and hence Christianity.

While the production values are high, and the index is comprehensive, there is no contents page or references for further reading. The Big Picture Book of Human Civilisation is clearly written and full of the sort of information children find interesting. It is geographically inclusive: Asia, Middle East, the Americas, Europe, African subcontinent, the Pacific; ethnically and racially inclusive, and religiously inclusive. Its up-to-dateness is evident in its inclusion of the Ebu Gogo in Flores.

However, the book suffers from particular pitfalls of simplification for young readers. It presents ‘the rise of civilisation’ narrative with most of the bad bits left out (nature’s violence is documented, but wars and death tolls are mere statistics). This patronises young readers and may serve to deny the experience of those in our neighbourhoods and schools who have lived through genocide and war, and who are here because of famine, oppression, poverty and racial and religious persecution. History does not have to be a document of man’s savagery to man, but for young readers it needs to question, not perpetuate, the idea that there has been a steady advancement of mankind.

John Nicholson’s body of work is an example of the best informative writing for young readers, and 100 Years of Petrol Power: Transport, Trade and Travel in Australia 1900–2000 (Allen & Unwin, $29.99 hb, 32 pp, 9781741750478) is no exception. The text is lively and rich in statistics, and the illustrations and diagrams are detailed and informative. Nicholson, skilled as a novelist, always opens with an arresting episode to intrigue those who thought they had no interest in the subject.

Familiar names such as Benz, Dunlop and Peugeot are alongside forgotten inventors such as Henry Sutton, or inventions such as the Hurtu car: ‘an interesting choice of name for a vehicle that would cause so many deaths and injuries over the years.’ This is history full of incongruity, such as the cavalry charge supported by aircraft; of cause and effect, such as the effect of war on the development of road transport; of surprising facts, such as that three quarters of all aircraft made have been warplanes.

Nicholson’s work is a celebration of the subject, exhibited in the description of the FX all-Australian car; Volvo’s replacement of Ford’s assembly line with a team of people responsible for building each truck; the genesis of the Holden; and then GMH and the origins of Qantas, to give a few examples. This is combined with a questioning approach, which invites young readers to examine the information before them: ‘It makes you wonder how many good ideas have failed to achieve their potential simply because they had no military use’; ‘Vesteys were good friends with the NT government but not with exploited Aboriginal workers, meat workers and drovers’.

This work, the final in Nicholson’s series Transport, Trade and Travel in Australia, balances technical, personal and expert knowledge, such as protection versus free trade, the construction of the Great Ocean Road and the Hume Highway, and the development of the aviation industry.

One of Nicholson’s themes is change and the intertwined factors that precipitate such shifts as moving from ‘riding on the sheep’s back’ to Australian independence in manufacturing, from passenger ships to aircraft, and even the effect of transport in improving diets. Soberingly, Nicholson quotes our staggering current oil consumption rates and suggests that the century of petrol is almost over.

These five titles will persuade young readers that knowledge is not boring. The best of them also critique the knowledge and the world that they describe.