Last Wave by Paul Hayden

This is another stunning piece of Aussie surf fiction. If the Californians started surf lit off with Dogs of Winter etc., it’s the Aussies who have impressed me in recent years. Along with The Life, The Lost Boys and Breath it’s another tale of surfing that is unapologetically surfy. There’s no explanation of terms or fumbling through learning to surf — surf culture is part of the lives of all the characters; it’s a given that surfing has its place in the scheme of things, albeit still a counter-cultural place.

This is a coming of age tale where the ocean is the one constant, the thing that’s always there and unites the two main characters as friends. It provides beauty, challenge, a place in the social order, therapy — just everything they need.

It’s a true reflection of the Aussie surf culture as I remember it, with the slang, the laid-back beach crowd vibe, the exuberance and youthfulness of the surfies. The most natural thing in the world for them is an obsession with wave-riding, which I remember finding so refreshing when I got down to the Sunshine Coast and beyond.

Excellent dialogue; really realistic almost-communication from the teenagers. And great descriptions of surf too; it’s all Aussie surf slang but it doesn’t sound over the top.

I don’t want to put any plot-spoilers in as anyone with a love of surfing, the ocean or Aussie beach culture should have a read. So I’ll just say that Owl goes through a lot of shit — the kind of shit that come to us all, like death, serious illness, relationship difficulties and re-evaluations of family, friends and his own life. And in true coming-of-age style, he pops out the other end a change surfie. Honest, deeply-felt and expressed in language that suits the character and situations so well, this is the kind of surfing that reflects the area and the culture in a just-so way. I really, really hope I can capture just a fragment of something similar in my own surf writing. Very glad I took a chance on this — I thought it might be another YA teen-romance book where the surf is nothing but a backdrop. Couldn’t have been more wrong.

Themes that resonated with me (because of my own novel’s preoccupations) were the descriptions of how and why surfing matters, and what it gives you: ‘The surf always fixes something. You get out there and you get wet, water breaks, you push into it, you stream over it, you forget every other thing.’ (page 31).

Surfies are considered bums, losers and dropouts, not good enough for Hayley and Drewe’s father. Owl’s mother feels the same: ‘My old lady’s not keen on the surf, never has been. Tennis is the game. […] I can’t imagine the embarrassment she’s suffered. Well no, I can — she’s told me. “Does your son play, Delia?” “Well, no —“ Oh the horror, oh the ignominy. “He, he…arrgghh…he surfs.”’ (page 54).

And Hayley’s dad again: ‘The old man had a real thing about the surf culture. He was really down on it. He didn’t like the hair, he didn’t like the ratbag scruffy look, he didn’t like the attitude. He didn’t like the drugs and all the other shit he knew was going around — he was really ugly on the whole lot of it. And because he’d surrendered a son to it, I think it made him even less inclined to lose a daughter to it. He didn’t want his daughter associating with that element. […] a pack of surfie mongrels’ (page 91-92).