When a man dreams things from the past, youd think hed be able to rearrange them in new sequences to please himself. But no. In my dreams, it all happens as it happened, and I see it and be it again and again and the confusion never wears off. People drift to the valley called the Sink out of loneliness, hardship or an affinity with the land. It is an isolated place, with a swamp and an old white bridge and the forest encroaching from all sides. The solitude is tangible. But when a mysterious creature is suddenly on the loose, killing livestock and preying on everyones deepest fears, four inhabitants find themselves unexpectedly in one anothers company with chilling results. Tim Wintons raw and vibrant language makes the senses jump . . . concentrated, passionate, invigorating writing Independent on Sunday A major work by anyones standards . . . mysterious, painful and beautiful Washington Post

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