The accident Sam’s father has with the woodchipper is the tip of the iceberg. The straw of hay that breaks the kangaroo’s back. Sam’s father, loath to admit it, is getting on in years, and is starting to struggle with running the family farm. So Sam, a 20-something-year-old-definitive-city-dwelling writer, decides, as a good son, to head back home to help. Once there, he begins to feel an unfamiliar bond with both farm and father and he soon finds that he may just want to take up the farming life full time.

This book may prove to be polarising. You are going to love it, or it might bore you to death. In much the same way that Moby Dick sometimes feels like an instruction manual for whaling, Vincent’s memoir sometimes feels like a handbook for farming. I’m happy to say that I enjoyed it very much, and I almost feel I could put up a decent fence or, with a little help, install a water pump.

For one who has never set foot out of the city, I was surprised at how interesting and enjoyable a read this book is. Vincent’s writing, which is witty and robust, is used to tell some wonderful, charming anecdotes: true, gritty and real.

He also covers many contemporary problems that the modern Australian farmer faces today: drought, global warming, sustainable farming, land rights and reconciliation.

What makes this an enjoyable read is how he personalises his story. He makes you feel that you are on a tour, being shown around his farm, listening to his stories as he informs you of the benefits of regenerative agriculture, and how to flush that water pump. You can feel the passion in his voice.

Reviewed by Neale Lucas