AustLit

'Some wars are never over.

'From an award-winning author, a breathtaking new novel that holds a mirror up to contemporary Australia. Martin Godwin is a man alone. Divorced from his wife, in an uneasy relationship with his son, and with complicated, guilty feelings towards his lover, Nora, he is also a veteran of Vietnam, haunted by the fear that his exposure to dangerous chemicals such as Agent Orange has triggered his son's depression; and haunted too by the events of one sweltering afternoon during a raid on a village. These memories become more urgent when an old soldier comes calling, asking for Martin's silence as he establishes a political career. This powerful novel winds the strands of Martin's life – father, comrade, lover, unwilling conspirator and reluctant spiritual searcher – into a seamless and compelling whole. Through its lens we are given a snapshot of contemporary Australia, groping towards meaning in a rapidly changing world.'

Source: Publisher's blurb.

''She was meant to teach him about manners and behaviour, about love-making and its pleasures beyond the act itself. Instead. he learned about the vulnerability of the human heart and the way it defies reason.' 

'Plagued by terminal illness, Khalid Sharif leaves his home in Calcutta to visit his Australian son, Javed. Javed is confounded by the old man's rebellious idiosyncrasies that contradict a life-long impression of a dull, predictable father who had devoted his life to business and family. What Javed does not know is that, as a young man, Khalid Sharif was sent to a sophisticated house of courtesans for a cultural education. Against convention, he fell in love with a young courtesan, Nazli, and asked her to marry him. An outraged family pressured him into breaking his betrothal. It is this broken promise that continues to haunt Khalid Sharif for the rest of his life.

'As he gets close to death, memories of his youth, especially his passion for Nazli, become more vivid. ' (Publication summary)

' Iqbal Chaudhary is fortyish, but the mid-life crisis he faces is more complex than many. His Australian marriage has collapsed, his past surfaces to bother his conscience and he feels a compulsive need to go back to the country he left immediately after the war with Pakistan, eighteen years earlier. But his reception from family and friends is deeply mixed. Iqbal is forced to confront why he left Bangladesh and how he feels about his family as well as his native country whose poverty, squalor and overcrowding make him react involuntarily with the squeamishness of a Westerner.'

Source: Publisher's blurb.