Belomor by Nicolas Rothwell
(Text Publishing $37)
Most of Nicolas Rothwell's books and journalism offer lyrical, subjective evocations of northern Australia and its indigenous people. The title of his second novel/fable is characteristically riddling. It refers in various ways to a Baltic sea canal dug by slave labour in the 1930s, and to a mood-altering cigarette.
The opening sections are pretty runic, too. They involve an 18th-century Italian painter, conversations with an elderly German academic, a narrative of a Russian Gulag, plus an anthropologist-photographer from a century back, before shifting to present-day Darwin.
Each of these earlier references starts a meditation on art, its place in memory, the way work and mind shape each other. That's Rothwell's focus during this idiosyncratic, intermittently irritating book, the remainder of which is set among the deserts, mountains and urban toeholds of the Northern Territory.
It's a book of conversations. As Rothwell moves around the beautiful, brutal landscape, he talks endlessly with others about making words and pictures, and about creating your identity from these.