Tim Winton seems to be publishing more non fiction than fiction in recent years, which is no bad thing, I reckon. His previous book, Island Home, was very good, and this slightly more substantial memoir is also very good. It has some overlap with the previous book, although this one is more personal. This is a collection of true stores about his life, rather than a continuous narrative. It's vaguely chronological, and the stories about his childhood are very moving and provide insight into some of the sources of his artistic vision and inspiration. His writing on class, fundamentalism, asylum seekers and similar volatile issues is always clearsighted, impassioned and persuasive.
A beautiful and brilliant book.