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I think I've written enough reviews about Bryce Courtenay to give a fairly obvious impression of what I think of him. However, my vague recollections seem to tell me that this one was a little different: more genuine, perhaps. Still sloppily sentimental and with the tendency to romanticise characters, but what Courtenay does have in buckets is compassion, and he uses it liberally here. It's as sad a tale as any and you can't help but feel sorry for the guy.