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260 pages, Paperback
First published August 15, 2018

“you flunky shite-faced beggar boob. And so what if it does take more than one season? you going to be hankering so bad for your mammy you won’t be able to hang in? you’re a lag, you’re—
“And you’re a manky blowhard who don’t know what he’s talking about half the time and is lying the other half.”
Traveling along the furos and várzeas was eerie and beautiful. When it wasn’t storming, the water was glasslike. The reflections from the trees and branches and even the sky were almost more intricate than the things themselves. You couldn’t tell where the reflection ended and the real thing began. Nor could you see the horizon line much of the time, only deep dark forests everywhere reaching out in two directions, up and down.
The leaves sounded like tiny bells, hundreds of them. Thousands of them. I felt myself in the grip of the mood the chief was evoking. The bells, the whispers of the women, the jungle sounds beyond, the breeze, the full moon rising above the tree line...I realized I felt joyful, almost giddy with joy.