'Sparrow' by Scot Gardner

Fresh off the press, this little beauty is a thrilling story about a mute teenage boy who has been given the nick name 'Sparrow' due to his street habit of  flitting around and eating leftovers off others' plates. Set in Darwin, including the NT wilderness, the reader is confronted with the paradox of its stark natural beauty juxtaposed against the day-to-day perils of surviving in the steamy outback. As a resident of NT for the past 9 years, and a passionate fisherwoman, I can vouch for the accuracy of Gardner's research into Top End life.
The Waterfront: ... a few joggers and dog-walkers set ibis to flight along the lagoon path. The barista carried a stack of aluminium chairs... The boy followed him into a roofed dining shelter adjoining an Irish-themed pub. Most of his daylight hours were spent... splashing in the lagoon with kids from the hotels around the wharf.(17, 21, 55)
The Mangroves: ... He'd climbed as high as he could and the tide had continued to rise until it licked at the hem of his shorts. From his vantage he could see crocodiles in the water, hear their steam-venting sighs, grunts and bubbles... the gulf islands were laid out like sculptures on an infinite cerulean canvas. He saw the wide mouth of the river he'd swum in on and the verdant mangroves that straddled the brown water snaking inland... (24, 39)
Mindil Market: Tourists visited the market in their hundreds... people were buying all manner of things: T-shirts, jewellery made from shells and stones, paintings on canvas and old saw blades, crystals, paper kites...loud drumming and didjeridu music started down near the toilets... (41-3)
Fishing!!! The bait had been taken. He doubled the knot on the handle, re-baited, cast and held the stick with two white-knuckled fists. There were a few tantalising nibbles before a fish hooked itself. It pulled and zagged through the waves as Sparrow ran up the beach towing the flipping silver creature onto the pale sand... the fish was longer than his forearm and covered in silver scales, each one the size of his thumbnail. (112)
The climate: The sun bit at his neck and he wore his T-shirt as a scarf until his shoulders were red... Sparrow sprinted over hot sand... The skin on his nose and cheeks felt tight. (47, 81)

In no way have I covered the nail-biting, page-turning plot. I may already be giving too much away. Just to say, the story is compelling and rich with 'Wintonian' Australian details. The social commentary is timely (street kids, family violence, drug abuse) and the relationships plausible and compelling. Gardner has, again, nailed it.