REVIEW
How do you write a book where your first-person narrator has no name?
It’s not that she doesn’t want you to know her name, she really doesn’t have one, names being a dangerous thing when you’ve been on the run with your mum since infancy.
That’s our hero’s situation. She’s living in a junkyard, in a van with four flat tyres and a hole in the roof. It’s the latest in a series of underclass communities that have raised her.
Mum works for Flora Box, a local seafood merchant and drug dealer. Don’t let those adorable old lady glasses and sloppy joes fool you - Flora is a treacherous killer. The scrapyard is by the brown snake of a river running through Brisbane, a treacherous killer all its own.