A "Chopper-Read-in-Asia" book

Bali Raw is not a literary book, it’s not meant to be. It is a book written for the concreter, the labourer, the guy that does your brick paving. It is a book written for my mates or people like them, hardworking blokes that like a beer in the pub after a hot day on a building site.

Bali Raw was conceived after a chat with an ex-army buddy. He said to me, “When I’m out on manoeuvrers, when I’ve been stuck in the bush for three or four days, I just want to read something easy, something to kill the boredom. I don’t want to read some arty-farty book that I can barely understand. I want a real book that has drinking, fights and a few girls in it. You should write a book like that about Bali. You know, a Chopper-Read-in-Asia type book.” When I wrote Bali Raw, I tried to keep this comment firmly in my mind.

Bali Raw is true, of course. Everything in the book did happen. But you’re not going to find a word like 'salubrious' in the pages. And you’re certainly not going to find anything salubrious in the stories.

Bali Raw is a gritty recounting of my experiences living in Bali. It is a book written for your average hard-working guy who likes nothing better than watching a game of footy with a few mates. And who dreams of one day being able to afford to live in a place like Bali.