A book about death and dying, longing and be-longing (sadly) seems fit for purpose in these times. This is a slim book made heavy with ideas and can’t be read quickly. Its structure, with little dialogue, means you need to slow down to read each line, each sentence. This is a very deliberate literary device and is joyfully contemplative.

Amber is grieving the death of her brother and needs to get back to her desert home and her work in the desert communities of Central Australia. She tries to outrun death, but it follows, then overtakes her. Her friend is dying and wants her to help plan his funeral. Death also stalks the desert community.

Because ‘amber’ can also be a fossilised tree resin, the narrative offers several layers of meaning. The golden gemstone hints at beauty and timelessness, with insects trapped for millennia within it. Time hangs heavy on Amber. That weight of time is evident with the land and the Indigenous community’s relationship with it. Her own family talks of ‘owning’ a cattle station; her Indigenous friends talk of being part of the land, and vice versa. The land is majestic and timeless and whatever is on it is temporary. The environment Amber is in allows the land to be a powerful character on its own.

The juxtaposition of a white woman in the Indigenous community also offers a clever contrast, apart from the obvious white/black binary. In particular Powell examines the cultural attitudes to death. Amber has a Catholic sensibility, full of euphemism: people ‘pass away’, ‘slip away’ or ‘leave this life’. The Indigenous characters mourn openly and loudly.

This novella is a wonderful study in how to celebrate life, even while knowing it can’t last.

Reviewed by Bob Moore