Review: Choppy Water by Jack Heath
by Kate Cuthbert
There are two things of note in Jack Heath’s Choppy Water, the tautly plotted and cleverly structured thriller released this month from Allen & Unwin. First, there is the inclusion of COVID-19, not just as a nebulous world event, but as a plot device. Second is Heath’s ongoing commitment to and mastery of the morally grey character.
To begin with a brief overview of the novel: Choppy Water takes place over the course of 8 days in March 2020, aboard the Silver Lady, a medium-sized cruise ship heading up and down the west coast of North America. Told in first person from the point-of-view of Cesar Cain, a cleaner aboard the ship, the story begins in earnest when Cain finds a dead body among the clean towels in his cleaning cart. Cain, neither using his real name, nor completely honest about his background, doesn’t find the onboard doctor’s conclusion of ‘unfortunate accident’ compelling, and sets off on his own investigation. This decision will drive the rest of the plot, which will touch on (in no particular order and with an eye to avoiding spoilers), drugs, gangs, pirates, magic tricks, and several more (and more creative) murders.
Inserted chapters set across 2019 reveal significant events in Cain’s past, and the reader begins to understand the hows and whys behind his decisions, and the potential consequences should Cain be revealed. We also begin to understand why he is willing to take that risk. This slow drip-feed of backstory and context could, but never does, feel manipulative. Instead, it expands the canvas of the story, providing the reader with more and more of the full picture as the narrative speeds towards the conclusion.
There was a time, not that long ago, where publishing pretended that the COVID-19 lockdowns never happened. Any book that came in with references to ‘unprecedented times’ was dismissed as too political, too confronting, or simply too soon. There are obvious exceptions to this maxim: Jodi McAlister broke into the adult romance market with her Marry Me Juliet series, set on a reality TV series affected by lockdowns, and Melanie Cheng’s The Burrow was shortlisted for a Victorian Premier’s Literary Award and the Stella Prize. But, on the whole, the instinctual avoidance is still fresh enough for COVID-19 as a plot point to feel a bit subversive. Previous readers of Heath, however, will no doubt already be aware that subversion is well within his authorial wheelhouse.
Primarily, COVID-19 provides the reader, entering the story with the benefit of hindsight, with a delicious overlay of dramatic irony. As officially the Silver Lady remains virus-free, characters start coughing, doctors pass out potassium pills, misinformation begins to circulate, and the ship is refused berth to take on supplies or allow passengers to disembark. The paucity of information in the opening days of the pandemic is recent enough to bring a growing sense of panic, which serves the main plot of the story – while Cain is attempting to solve the original murder, passengers and crew sink into ferality in response to scarcity of food and abundance of rumours.
The cruise ship setting further deepens the irony: Information among the passengers is scant with phones mostly out of reception and wifi both expensive and flaky. The crew is only slightly better informed, at the mercy of the captain and higher-ups who seek to balance any incoming news against the possibility of panic, with avoidance of panic carrying more weight. The ship’s route, historically, has always been well within helicopter distance of a mainland hospital, so the medical staff is limited and unprepared. Finally, the suitcase mentality of the vast majority of the passengers loosens adherence to rules, boundaries, and social constraints. The Silver Lady, therefore, is a perfect petri dish for illness – physical, mental, and societal.
Readers of Heath’s previous novels will be familiar with his preoccupation with morally grey characters, characters that cleave to their own moral code and act accordingly. From the opening pages, the reader is well-aware that Cain is hiding something – understanding even after he starts his own investigation into the cruise ship murder, that Cain’s role on the cruise ship grants him much-desired anonymity. Even after several months of work, he doesn’t have friends, a relationship, or a desire to develop either, even on a short-term basis with the guests.
Cain’s actions, the legal, the illegal, the grey space in-between, are presented contextually, but Cain never asks for the reader’s permission or forgiveness. Part of his appeal as a narrator is his set mind around his own behaviour. There is only one person who can absolve him, and it’s not the reader. Cain has reasons to hide his background from other characters, but not from himself, which is refreshing to the central crime – the reader is able to participate in a straightforward procedural in real time, while simultaneously engaging in a broader psychological thriller about the investigating character.
This structure reflects the best part of this novel: an inherent cleverness that understands the literary moment. There is an in-built variety that recognises the attention economy, a sense of superiority to the circumstances that rewards hindsight, and a consciousness to the violent crimes that keeps the door open for more audiences. Bad things happen in this novel, and they happen to people who don’t deserve them, but there is a refreshing straightforwardness to the description, an innate framing of the crimes as crimes and not punishment, and a tacit recognition that there is no dichotomy between good and evil, just situations.
My only criticism is of the pace – I finished this novel in about two hours, which is very fast, even for someone who reads for a living. The novel held me completely in its grip, but it wasn’t until the end that I found some downtime to process character and plot developments. As a result, I had to revisit the novel often to write this review, as details had slipped away with the current. I would have enjoyed some breathing space somewhere in the middle, unbeset by the latest catastrophe, to truly sink into the story, rather than rushing along the surface.
However, this is a minor quibble to what is an incredibly well-plotted, well-paced, inherently clever addition to Australian thriller novels in the lead-up to the summer season – though I would recommend reading it with feet firmly planted on the shore.
Choppy Water
Jack Heath
Allen & Unwin, 9781761471247, 3 November 2026
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Dr Kate Cuthbert is the founder and director of Enough Trope, and a publishing industry professional with 20 years experience across the sector. She has held senior roles at the Australian Booksellers Association, Books+Publishing, Pantera Press, Writers Victoria and she launched the Escape Publishing imprint at Harlequin Australia. Her book on the creation, impact, and language of book covers and titles, How to Judge a Book by its Cover, was released in 2025. She co-hosts the popular Bridgerton podcast What Would Danbury Do?