Ash

Thea is the central character and narrator of this work. She sets the tone and mood of it in the following passage: “I am on maternity leave, which I seem to have taken to with the spirit of an angsty chihuahua.” A vet who specialises in large animal work, she has a husband, two children, and friends with their own troubles too.

She is struggling with priorities, and her tale relates an intense strife to maintain roles, all too often in the face of male condescension. It may not be a fresh complaint, but here it is enlivened by a pervading contrasting of Thea’s work as a vet with her other work in the domestic and family arena. She’s busy palpating rams, enquiring after a bull, and euthanising an elderly cat on the one hand, while contending with piles of laundry, a testy husband, and demanding children on the other.

That’s all in the Before section. The After is dominated by the eponymous ash of the title. Something has erupted – and it’s not just the mountain. The metaphor of disturbance pervades the narrative from now on. There is growing impatience with the men who run the veterinary clinic she works for. The clinic is operating remotely, and the husband is working from home. The tension is palpable.

Interspersed through the book are texts created from other sources. These lend an esoteric aspect that some readers will struggle with. A lengthy notes section acknowledges them.

Intelligence is supposed to be an advantage, but author Louise Wallace makes it sadly clear that intelligence encompassing an awareness of a woman’s place in things and its consequences can only lead to frustration and anger. How did women manage in earlier times? Ah, that can be learned from the musty books purchased at op shops by Thea’s mother-in-law and left handily about the place.

Ash will make angry women angrier. Those of us not yet angry may become aware that eruption is a possibility and, in the face of personal reality grown mountainous, even welcome.