Hill of Content wins Chain Bookseller of the Year!

When paramedic Bruce Pike is called out to deal with another teenage adventure gone wrong, he knows better than his partner — better than the parents — what happened and how. Thirty years before, that dead boy could have been him.

"More than once since then I've wondered whether the life-threatening high jinks that Loonie and I and Sando and Eva got up to in the years of my adolescence were anything more than a rebellion against the monotony of drawing breath."

Breath is a story about the wildness of youth — the lust for excitement and terror, the determination to be extraordinary, the wounds that heal and those that don't — and about learning to live with its passing.

In his first novel for seven years, Tim Winton has achieved a new level of mastery. Breath confirms him as one of the world's finest storytellers, a writer of novels that are at the same time simple and profound, relentlessly gripping and deeply moving.

He is a brilliant maths professor with a peculiar problem — ever since a traumatic head injury some seventeen years ago, he has lived with only eighty minutes of short-term memory.

She is a sensitive but astute young housekeeper with a ten-year-old son, who is entrusted to take care of him.

Each morning, as the Professor and the Housekeeper are reintroduced to one another, a strange, beautiful relationship blossoms between them. The Professor may not remember what he had for breakfast, but his mind is still alive with elegant equations from the past. He devises clever maths riddles — based on her shoe size or her birthday — and the numbers, in all of their articulate order, reveal a sheltering and poetic world to both the Housekeeper and her little boy. With each new equation, the three lost souls forge an affection more mysterious than imaginary numbers, and a bond that runs deeper than memory.

The Housekeeper and the Professor is an enchanting story about what it means to live in the present, and about the curious equations that can create a family where one before did not exist.

Withdrawn, uneducated and unloved, Frederick collects butterflies and takes photographs. A chance pools win enables his to capture the art student Miranda and keep her in the cellar of the Sussex house he has bought with the windfall. The situation is seen first from the collector's point of view: he thinks the chloroform pad no more vicious than his butterfly net, and patiently waits for the barriers of class and taste that inhibit their love to break down in the limbo of their isolation. She, the creator, desperate for her freedom, tries to be understanding but cannot banish her contempt for everything anti-life that the collector stands for.