More like this

Shelf Reflection is our series where we explore the bookshelves and reading habits of some of our favourite authors. In this latest instalment, Tim Winton talks to us about environmental non-fiction, local favourites and his new novel, Juice.

Juice is a survival story about two people on the run. How did this story come about?

Well, more broadly, it’s a story about the lives people lead in a landscape transformed by climate breakdown. I guess the novel has been a way for me to respond imaginatively and intellectually to years of observing climate change—the emerging science, the growing emergency and the complete political and cultural failure to face it. This is me considering the likely consequences of that failure and what it may mean for those who come after us. I guess I had to put all that shame and fury somewhere.

What books did you find critical to the writing of your own book?

There’s an entire shelf of books behind this one, but I guess the standouts include Naomi Klein’s This Changes Everything, Steve Coll’s magisterial Private Empire about ExxonMobil and Andreas Malm’s Fossil Capital. These, and about twenty others, were books I didn’t really want to read but knew I had to confront. All brilliant and indispensable. I guess they were the necessary intellectual and political underpinning of the book, a solid frame from which I could leap emotionally and creatively.

Images: This Changes Everything (2014), Private Empire (2012) and Fossil Nation (2016).

What kind of reader are you?

I usually have at least three or four books on the go. In recent years (with some notable exceptions), I’ve found novels unsatisfying—limp, solipsistic, politically evasive, largely unequal to our common moment—so I’ve been reading science, history and politics. But it’s nice to have fiction to return to because it’s my home. A good novel or story reminds me why I got into this caper, and it’s a match and companion for the other fact-based stuff.

A good novel or story reminds me why I got into this caper.

I try to finish everything I start, but as I get older, I’ve become more ruthless. When I sense a book is taking the piss and wasting my time, I’m more likely to bail. Yeah, I’ll re-read books that feel important or those I suspect I haven’t properly understood the first go-round. There are also some landmark books that need to be re-read at different stages of life. For me, it’s The Iliad, Moby-Dick, Frankenstein, Fahrenheit 451, To the Islands, Heart of Darkness and War and Peace.

Where do you like to read?

I read wherever I can. I read most of Patrick White up a tree when I was nineteen. I read Cloud Atlas on the gritty floor of a losmen in Indonesia after I hurt my back surfing (that was a long, hot week). Mostly, I prefer a decent armchair and good lighting. Reading in bed is something I avoid now.

What are you currently reading?

I just finished Extinction: A Radical History by Ashley Dawson. A good little primer for those who need to have the role of capitalism in planetary breakdown explained in brief terms. I had to hunt for it. Also, Robbie Arnott’s Dusk, which his publisher sent me in proof. Brilliant. The best thing he’s done. Better not to describe it, I think. And Audrey Schulman’s Theory of Bastards, which is a novel about scientific experiments on bonobos and the nuances of communication across (and within) species. The first and third books were things I sought out because they’re relevant to my current preoccupations. Robbie’s novel, also timely, just happened to lob in there perfectly by chance. 

Images: Extinction (2023), Dusk (2024) and Theory of Bastards (2018).

What does your book collection look like? 

Ridiculous. Unseemly. I have a library with the full ladder and brass rail palaver, but the shelves have now spilled over into multiple other rooms. It’s a bit of an embarrassment. I used to buy a lot of second-hand and out-of-print books in the US. Also, first editions. And people have been sending me books from everywhere for decades. So we’re nearly drowning in them. I guess they make good sound insulation. But I give books away now. Once upon a time, I couldn’t part with them.

I read most of Patrick White up a tree when I was nineteen.

I have first editions of every Randolph Stow, I think. I was one of Cormac McCarthy’s early fans, back when you could buy first editions as remainders at Strand Books on Broadway for $2.50. I have firsts of Tom McGuane, Brian Moore, George Johnston, Charmian Clift, James Hanley, and lots of others. Now I don’t know why I bothered. Except to say that I love books as physical objects. The smell and feel and heft of them.

Which books have you owned for the longest time?

The most significant book I’ve had for a long time is a hardcover of Marcus Clarke’s For the Term of His Natural Life. My mum gave it to me when I was eleven. It felt like a gesture of confidence in my ability as a reader. She must have thought I was up for it.

Is there an organising strategy?

Fiction I organise by country or region. The rest is sorted by genre or topic. One room is just biographies. And there are piles—ziggurats—of unread stuff everywhere.

What books are you constantly recommending other people read?

Lately, it is Kate Mildenhall’s The Hummingbird Effect, a really strong book published last year that probably didn’t get the accolades it deserved. In a field of hors d’oeuvres and doilies, finally a main dish.

Is there anything people would be surprised to find you enjoy?

How would I know? What do they really know about me anyway? I’d be surprised if anyone was surprised. I can still read an Archie comic with pleasure.

What’s next for you?

A kids’ non-fiction book. Another novel. And hopefully more time in the water. I think quite a lot of folks will be waterborne in Newcastle in November in an effort to defend their future, so maybe some readers may feel inspired to join.


Juice is out now via Penguin Books Australia.