Before the bushfires-before the front of flames comes roaring over the hills-the ridges are thick with gums. After the fires, the birds have gone. There is only grey ash and melted metal, the blackened husks of cars. And the lost people- in temporary accommodation on the outskirts of the city, on the TV news in borrowed clothes, or remembered in flyers on a cafe wall. A Constant Hum grapples with the aftermath of disaster with an eye for telling detail. Some of these stories cut to the bone; others are empathetic stories of survival, even hope. All are gripping and beautifully written, heralding the arrival of an important new voice in literary fiction.