Far Horizons is the kind of memoir that stays with you long after you have turned the final page. It begins with a hook that feels almost mythic: a teenager deployed to Iraq as one of Australia’s youngest Special Forces Navy Divers.
What unfolds is far more nuanced than a tale of battlefield heroics. Aaron Tait is not interested in polishing a legend. He is interested in telling the truth. What makes this book extraordinary is the emotional intelligence woven through every chapter. Tait writes with a candour that is rare in military memoirs: unvarnished, self-aware and often painfully honest. The moment he meets Farooq, a cook on a smuggler’s vessel whose only crime was trying to feed his family, becomes a quiet turning point that recalibrates everything he thought he knew about right, wrong and the machinery of war. It is one of those scenes that makes you sit still for a beat, because you can feel the weight of it.
The power of Far Horizons is that it does not end when the deployments do. Tait takes us into the years after service, where the real reckoning begins. He writes beautifully about trauma, ego, humility, fatherhood, therapy and marriage. He shows how the things that break us are often the things that force us to grow. His reflections on leadership, purpose and listening, truly listening, are some of the most grounded I have read. There is grit here, absolutely, but also hope. And humour. And a deep curiosity about what it means to live a life of integrity after the uniform comes off.
If you love memoirs that challenge you, that expand your understanding of humanity, or that reveal the quieter truths beneath the headlines, Far Horizons is a standout. Moving, wise and quietly transformative. I will be thinking about this one for a long time.