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Breath by Tim Winton6/23/2023 ![]() ![]() By the wave’s last section I was styling.” Then I leant into a turn and accelerated and the force of it slammed through my knees, thighs, bladder, and I came lofting back to the crest to feel the land breeze in my face and catch a smudge of cliffs before sailing down the line again. For a moment - just a brief second of enchantment - I felt weightless, a moth riding light. When the wave drew itself up to its full height, walling a hundred yards ahead as I swept down, it seemed to create its own weather. “All the way down the big board chattered against the surface chop I could hear the giggle and natter of it over the thunder behind me. ![]() But there’s a saltiness in “Breath,” Tim Winton’s newest novel, that offers an irresistible taste of oceanic communion: For this reader, who has attempted surfing only once, and only long enough to be washed ashore seasick, the siren call of the waves is faint at best. ![]()
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