Avi's book came out five years ago in 2018 - with brioBooks in Australia. Immersed in the writing of my own book at the time, I was not aware of his work. I ran into him a few months' ago .
I borrowed the book from the library and read it quickly. I asked his mother whether he himself swam like the main character in the book (what is his name?) in the sea, for long distances. He occasionally allows himself to sink into the depths, his knees "tucked" to his chest, "holding [himself] there, suspended, and weightless". My book group will discuss the book in February and I am re-reading it in preparation.
I ordered my own copy: it arrived with an upside down cover. I've complained to the publisher and hope they'll send me another one, to be lent to other members of the book group.
As a reader I have a weakness for the story: I need to know what happens before I can pay proper attention to the writing itself. (Should the writing be very bad, I'd quit). Otherwise I zip along and decide later whether to read it again for a better appreciation of the book's structure and style.
Having re-read the first four chapters of Swim, I'm looking forward to the rest. Avi has a light touch and lets the reader do some of the work, which I enjoy.
For instance, at the end of the very first paragraph; "Of course, after the letter arrived, none of that mattered anymore."
Because of this letter, a young man living in California abandons a major project to return home to NZ. His mother is sick.
In the second chapter, he's at home. Seen through his eyes, his mother is manipulative, fake. She was always that way. There's not much love. Nevertheless, he abandoned his previous plan. Why did it 'no longer matter', I wonder.
Childhood photos of him cover the interior of a closet in his room, a room within a room, every inch covered by photos. On every photo, the boy holds a wounded bird, occasionally a different animal, a mouse, or a ferret. He cares for the sick. This is hidden, though not from the mother.
We learn that his father committed suicide. I should not write any more.
