This is the third novel I have read by this poetic, intense author, and I think I like it the best.  Malouf uses some of the simplest plot devices (come might argue he uses no plot at all) to explore the broadest of philosophical questions.  In this story I was struck by the use of a quiet pastoral Queensland setting, as well as a hellish description of the Western Front in World War I to illustrate the ephemeral nature of existence, and our futile efforts to hold, preserve, and capture the reality of the moment.  I suppose other authors have used warfare to express a sense of immediacy in our perception of reality, but Malouf does it with particularly vivid word imagery.  I strongly recommend this book.

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