The first Tim Winton novel I’ve read that hasn’t been set in Australia, and I’m still trying to work out whether the European setting for this novel affected my reading of it, or his writing of it. Full marks to the Barbican library for stocking it in any event, and luck that I spotted it in my pre-holiday library book selection spree.
It is very different from his other novels – I enjoyed it, but I don’t think I fully appreciate the signficance of the title, or the scene in the novel it refers to, and within the book there were lots of unknowns and questions that remain unanswered when you reach the end.
One thing that has stayed with even after finishing the book is the way in which Tim Winton conveys the changing feelings and reactions the main character, Scully, as events unfold and his life unravels. From the excitement and apprehension of taking on a run down old cottage in a remote part of Ireland, to the frantic return to and flight from Greece and the increasingly surreal and unreal times in Paris and Amsterdam where the atmosphere becomes more claustrophobic and chaotic.
Buy it: Amazon link