Reviewed by Gillian May, Berkelouw Staff

The opening pages of this novel are impressive and hilarious. The clipped and deadpan dialogue of Smithy and his work colleagues as they prepare to start their day’s labour evokes perfectly the conversation of men for whom words are used sparingly and applied in strictly routinised doses. The setting, the tools, the cars, and the bleak humour build the picture of a group of men of hedged, confined interests and ambition.

Smithy has given up the grog, and becomes an observer in the pub where the grisly and alcohol –powered rights of manhood are exercised. Not only has Smithy stopped drinking, he has also given shelter to a young woman, Charlotte, who he found bashed, naked and disoriented.

Smithy is dying, and as he listens to Charlotte’s life story, unfurled in a series of monologues, he reflects on his own life, and we learn about his past as an orphan, a husband and a father. His gentle sadness and un-judging care for Charlotte provide a stark contrast to the dangerous, volatility of the young men in town, including Charlotte’s husband and his own son – an appreciation of both the vintage and the gleaning.

This is a sad story, well controlled by this first time author.