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368 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1991
" 'Those waves are high, you try and get through, but they're hitting the beach and chewing it up, you dive, you come up, you dive again, you come up again, you're getting nowhere, it's hard water, it keeps knocking you down and pounding on you, but you can't stop, if you stop, you've lost it, it rolls you right back to the shore, it throws you out on the sand like an old tin can, you've got to keep diving, that's where your fitness counts, you dive, you come up, and those waves keep pounding on you, and then, finally, you come to the big one, you get under it, and you're safe, you're on the other side of the water.' "
" 'When my mother died, where did she go?,' 'She went into the ocean.' Yvonne took his hand in hers. 'She loved the ocean. It was in her blood, just like it's in yours.' She lit a cheroot and suddenly the world smelled like the inside of a cupboard that hadn't been opened for years. 'When you go back to the ocean,' she said, 'all the bad things you've ever done, they're washed away. You're purified, cleansed, ready for the next life. You know that skull you found?' He nodded. 'Remember how pure and white it was?' He remembered. 'Well that's what the ocean does,' she said. 'Takes out all the dirt, all the stains of having been alive.' "
"He rarely left his room. You heard him sometimes - a creak on the stairs, the click of a door - but you never saw him. And there hadn't been a sound from Muriel. It was as if Jed had moved from one dimension to another. His original dimension hadn't reported him missing, and his new dimension didn't acknowledge his presence. Maybe what he'd really done was end up somewhere between the two. Some days he almost felt invisible."
"Now it was three days later, and the bruises were sunset colours: yellow, purple, brown. He'd been beaten like metal, like the edge of a scythe. He was sharp. All doubts, all fears, all hesitation, beaten out of him. He'd left them behind, along with that job in the ice-cream parlour and that rented room with its bright-green walls and it's bedbugs and its carpet tangled with other people's hair and nails. They were outlived, redundant. More dead skin for the carpet, more ghosts for the cemetery."