From The Wreck

Shortlisted for the Kitschies Red Tentacle for Best Novel 'This strange story of love and loneliness, which explores how we all long to belong, is simply wonderful.' –Daily Mail 'Absorbing . . . full of deep currents and lurking fears.' –Adrian Tchaikovsky, Arthur C Clarke Award-winning author of The Children of Time When George Hills was pulled from the wreck of the steamship Admella, he carried with him memories of a disaster that claimed the lives of almost every other soul on board. Almost every other soul. Because as he clung onto the wreck, George wasn’t alone: someone else – or something else – kept George warm and bound him to life. Why didn’t he die, as so many others did, half-submerged in the freezing Southern Ocean? And what happened to his fellow survivor, the woman who seemed to vanish into thin air? George will live out the rest of his life obsessed with finding the answers to these questions. He will marry, father children, but never quite let go of the feeling that something else came out of the ocean that day, something that has been watching him ever since. The question of what this creature might want from him – his life? His first-born? To simply return home? – will pursue him, and call him back to the ocean again. Blending genres, perspectives and worlds, Jane Rawson’s From the Wreck – winner of the Aurealis Award for Best Science Fiction Novel – is a chilling and tender story about how fiercely we cling to life, and how no-one can survive on their own.

About the Author :
Jane Rawson is the author of A Wrong Turn at the Office of Unmade Lists; a novella, Formaldehyde; and a non-fiction book, The Handbook: Surviving and Living with Climate Change. From the Wreck was the first novel to be nominated for both Australia's Miles Franklin Literary Award and the Aurealis Award for Best Science Fiction Novel, which it won. Jane lives in Tasmania and works as a bureaucrat.

Review :
The power of this singular novel lies in Rawson’s ability to meld seemingly disparate narrative elements into a convincing whole that movingly explores themes of loss, loneliness and guilt. This strange story of love and loneliness, which explores how we all long to belong, is simply wonderful . . . Jane Rawson’s writing is uncannily good — an original blend of speculative fiction, chilling horror and emotional empathy, fluidly carrying the reader along on a remarkable journey. An absorbing, disturbing read, full of deep currents and lurking fears. From the Wreck is an utterly unique, fascinating story, richly and compellingly written. An impressive, absorbing reading experience that evokes empathy for Jane Rawson’s unforgettable characters. Rawson . . . has the rare talent of stretching our capacity to believe, while at the same time making us feel genuinely for the characters. There’s a beautiful quality of empathy here, light and aching . . . I was reminded of the gentle quality of Steven Spielberg’s ET . . . An intriguing tale whose humanity lingers warm long after the reading. It’s hard to find the right words to praise this novel. I think we need a whole new critical vocabulary to be invented. Rawson recreates a vanished historical world with utterly convincing characters as well as inhabits the mind of a cephalopod alien and make us feel, in both cases, yes, that’s exactly how it is. Jane Rawson's writing is mysterious, chilling and tender. The book is a sort of miracle. In this masterful novel, Jane Rawson combines the grim beauty of a dark fable with the gripping plot and breathtaking pace of a literary thriller. This captivating, otherworldly story will enchant you from start to finish. Haunting and marvellous . . . From the Wreck takes real historical events and bends them to its own ends in a manner I’ve not seen before, an imaginative leap that truly exemplifies the nature of radical speculation. Intensely researched historical fiction . . . [From the Wreck] also has a cephalopod shapeshifting alien, so. SO, it’s remarkable . . . It’s dark and beautiful, and puzzling. Something approaching an old-fashioned historical yarn spliced with Cronenbergian body horror . . . The commonplace rubbing shoulders with the supernatural adds to the book’s considerations of mourning and absence a vivid hue . . . a genuine tension and sense of dread.