Book Review: The Reef

At the time of writing this review the minute hand of the Doomsday clock sits at 2 to midnight. Why use a clock? It seems a poor metaphor. After all, a clock never goes backward. It makes the apocalypse as inevitable as time itself, it’s just a matter of when and by what means. We have other measures for our imminent destruction. The Great Barrier Reef is, after all, climate change’s “canary in the coalmine” looming large in the news for massive amounts of bleaching and vast swathes overtaken by the crown-of-thorns starfish. In such an atmosphere it was reluctantly that I first opened up The Reef. I anticipated 400 pages of scientifically substantiated gloom, barely qualified with a desperate pick-me-up in the epilogue.
A pleasure then it was to be transported from inevitable global catastrophe to a manageable crisis: the story of the Endeavour trapped in the “Labyrinth of shoals” of...
When I was growing up my family would make the three and a half hour drive from Sydney to Barrington Tops. We stayed at a guest house set within thick bush. I can still remember sitting on the veranda which wrapped around the federation building, to watch my sisters, as they fed the squeaking lorikeets that squabbled for seeds. It is a region of NSW of sublime natural beauty, of rain forests to explore and rivers to kayak through.



