Tim Winton

A critically acclaimed glimpse into Australian life from 1944 to 64 featuring two families, the Lambs and the Pickles, brought together in one house. Emotionally, I flipped between love and hate every few turns of the pages. I detest books with no speech marks and even considering the author’s style, I don’t see why he didn’t use the correct punctuation. It wasn’t always immediately clear who was saying what, which I found to be an enormous distraction. Not often, but still annoying. It’s rather tell instead of show, but there’s a rhythm to the narrative that makes this work. As to the story… I loved it in places, loathed it in others. When I loved it, the book was wonderful. When I didn’t, I felt utterly bored. Some characters don’t serve the story, and neither do some of the supernatural elements. Sometimes the story is magical, but other times insufferable as we wander through these lives with no apparent direction or real purpose. I wish I found it as wonderful as others do, because when I loved it, that love was real, but I found it to be too much of a rollercoaster ride with too many dips way down low. Therefore, I’m not knocking anyone who adores this book — not that I would, anyway. Let people love what they love and there’s much to love here. There are some sumptuous sentences, but I think an abiding like of stepping into a life to visit without expectation of an efficacious outcome.… (mer)

I quite enjoyed this book. From start to finish, I quite enjoyed it. That's pretty warm praise, since so many three star books fade in and out, which mean you might go fifty pages without having much fun. However, in my view the book never quite soared as [b:Breath|2176735|Breath|Tim Winton|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1317792624l/2176735._SY75_.jpg|1405064] does.

There were three main obstacles to enjoyment for me. Firstly, the characters are mostly pretty unlikeable and treat each other like shit. It's hard to feel sympathy for people who are entirely responsible for the position they find themselves in. Secondly, I didn't find that the magical realist stuff added anything to the story. I guess it's there to make the whole thing less dire, and I guess it succeeds in that regard, but it never once moved me or dazzled me or however you're supposed to react to that stuff. Thirdly, the self-consciousness of Winton's prose gets annoying. He's a wonderful writer, but the business of jamming two words together ("oilstill", "freshcooked") did nothing for me and nor did the passages when he rolled up his sleeves and said "look, I'm creative writing!" Much like the magic realism, it mostly didn't detract from the story, but nor did it add to it. In the end it just held me back from engaging wholeheartedly.

Apart from the above, the prose is very good. It's clear and well paced. When he gets on with saying what happened to whom and who did what, Tim Winton is very good.

A problem I found with the characters was just that I had trouble relating to them. I don't believe in luck, and I find gambling and gamblers pretty boring. I don't believe in Hard Work, either. Nor have any of my family or close friends fallen into those categories. So there just wasn't much for me to relate to in here.

Nevertheless, Winton hits the mark with his epic tone and an engaging, sprawling narrative. I was left with a sense that if you just zoom out far enough and put the right filter on the lens, every family's story is a profound one. Unfortunately for me, the feeling wasn't quite strong enough to make me love this book.

… (mer)