‘We'd fought fires before and won - in many ways it's a part of life, here in the bush, so you make sure you're prepared. But as I watched the cars melting, our ancient ash tree torn up by the roots and the air itself on fire, it occurred to me that we might lose this fight. It occurred to me that today I might die.' Jane O'Connor and husband Sean moved to Kinglake, 65 kilometres northeast of Melbourne, 16 years ago. They were drawn by the lush native bush, the space to raise their beloved animals, and the close-knit community. On Saturday 7 February 2009, Jane and her family were sweltering through one of the hottest summer days on record, listening with concern to reports of fires sweeping through Kilmore and Wandong, 50 kilometres to their east and - according to the reports - heading south. But as the clouds of smoke loomed closer, and became tinged with a colour that from experience heralded danger, they realised that the fire was in fact heading towards them. But by then it was too late to evacuate; they were trapped as the firestorm swept towards them, obliterating everything in its ferocious path. Without Warning details the horrifying events of that day as Jane and her family fought for their lives in the face Australia's worst natural disaster. It details how they survived the day and the immediate aftermath, living in a landscape of death before emergency crews could reach them. Lucky to be alive, they then had to grapple with the grief and destruction of their community, and find a way to survive the even longer journey of recovery and rebuilding.
Like many Australians, I watched in horror as the events of Black Saturday both unfolded and became clear on that Saturday, 7th of February 2009. The news was reporting such a horror story; the loss of life, livelihoods, homes and animals. At the time I was a volunteer at my local Charity organization, and although we didn't work on weekends, I spent the next week at work, routinely sorting through the hundreds of items people immediately wanted to get sent the victims, or sold to send to the fund. We didn't know at the time that most of what we were bagging up would never even make it to the affected area, but I know that the cash got through at least.
Here in this book we read about one woman's personal struggle after the fires. She and partner Sean, along with their neighbors John and Julie, somehow struggle to carve a new life out of the utter destruction. It was a sad read, even though the death in the area is only lightly touched upon. The writing isn't overwhelming, but it feels more personal and real. It's good that's it hasn't been over edited or anything. i was also glad to read of the happy ending for most of the animals involved, there is one line about how the RSPCA comes to realize that after a tragedy most people want their animals, or the knowledge that they are safe, and this really spoke to me.
A great book, glad I picked it up at my local library. Five stars!
Powerfully written. I remembering watching this catastrophic day unfold on television feeling horror at what fellow Australians were going through and feeling grief and sadness and disbelief. This memoir was powerfully written and portrayed the survival through the fire that they lived through in graphic detail. I could hear taste breathe second by second the terror as it unfolded and was lived through and her detailed experience of the fire storm will forever stay with me. The cars melting as she watched through the window, the wet blanket she crouching on in the house steaming it was so hot, the fear as she could barely breathe due to scorching heat of air every breath she took burning her throat, the roaring sounds of fire and smoke alarms drowning out all other noise and time becoming unknowable during the disaster. How she and her family survived is a miracle when you read how it all burned around her and how they got out. Split second decisions made the difference between life and death for many of her neighbours. A new found respect and fear for Australian bush and bush fires and those in the bush who have to make the decision to stay and defend or leave each summer and fire season in Australia. Also the redemptive power of human spirit and community and how disaster brings out acts of giving and kindness over and above the call of duty as well as the worst in some people.
An incredibly personal and emotional story of a woman and her family's experience as first victims, then survivors, of the terrible Black Sunday bushfires; from the survival instincts and rushing thoughts as they were quickly surrounded by raging fire, to the months long (and continuing) struggle of recovering emotionally.
It is devastating to imagine how many more victims like her are still left traumatised by that destruction in 2009 in addition to the thousands more who survived through the months long and nation-wide devastation of the Black Summer bushfires of 2019/2020.
Also a great insight of humans' obsession with material possessions and how irrelevant they become once it comes down to saving your "stuff" or your life.
It was a bit of a shame how she established herself as an environmentally conscious person (who noticed the unusual and shifting seasons in her area before Black Saturday) but didn't mention the words "climate change" even once, or give any more than vague suggestions to elect more competent government officials.
Overall, however, stories like hers are incredibly important in inspiring people with emotion to ensure that the damage of the Black Saturday and Black Summer fires is not experienced again.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
beautifully described story of the worst bushfire tragedy and it's impact on a family and community. Jane's telling of her experiences and observations during and in the aftermath of Black Saturday are both horrific and hopeful and her optimism shines through as a great example of the human spirit. thank you Jane for writing this book...everyone I fire prone areas should educate themselves and have a fire plan.
A heart-gripping book in two distinct ways – first when the flames sweep through, and then as the awfulness of loss ushers in a hobbled version of a former life. O'Connor's dignity, humanity and practicality made this read ring with authenticity.
This book written from a very personal perspective gives you amazing insight into. Australia's worst natural disaster. Well written, it frankly tells the story of a couple losing everything but surviving and then rebuilding a future. Incredible resilience and down-to-earth honesty.
Overall I enjoyed this one, but I found that the information varied. Some parts were fantastically detailed, and I loved O'Connor's attention to the environment, how things looked before the fire, all the little things that if you live in a place long enough you begin to take for granted. Her love for her house, surroundings, and community was undeniable, and knowing what was going to happen coloured everything with a sense of dread and inevitability that was very fitting for the theme of the book.
I think O'Connor did an incredibly good job at illustrating just what a loss like this means. I've researched wildfires pretty extensively as they're an interest of mine, so I came into it with some idea of the devastation such a thing causes; how it goes far past the immediate incident and it's so much more than "just" losing a house. O'Connor managed to bring it home in a very human way, and in some places she's admirably honest and vulnerable even though it's very clear that this is not something she's used to, nor enjoys doing. Both O'Connor and her husband come across as very dignified, tough people, and it's clear that this whole incident threw them far out of their comfort zone -- from self-sufficiency and independence to being reliant on charity and hand-outs, a drastic adjustment. But sometimes I feel this independence got in the way of some details, and that the story may have benefitted from slowing down a little.
The main area I noticed this was the fire itself. While it was incredible to read about, and many pages are devoted to it, I gradually realised that unless the reader is familiar with wildfires and the dreaded firestorm (not the same thing, of course; not all wildfires have them), it probably sounded baffling if not outright unbelievable. Anyone familiar with wildfires knows about radiant heat and the extreme danger it poses, the seemingly impossible things it does; we know about fireballs and missiles and how the fire can create its own sustaining wind. We know the process of burning and how it is theoretically possible, though not advisable, to shelter in a burning house and run across a burning landscape. We know the randomness of fire, how some trees burn and explode and others remain almost untouched. But for somebody who doesn't know all this, or who only has a basic knowledge, the scenes during the fire probably come across as confusing or even a little over-dramatised. While this is a memoir and not a narrative nonfiction piece, I think the book would have benefitted from a little more in this regard, both to underscore the danger but also to give it the weight it deserves to those who might not know just how insane wildfires can get.
In a similar vein, I do wish I'd known a tiny bit more about the family itself. I respect their privacy -- this is already an intimate piece of writing -- but I felt I never really got to know them as themselves outside of the shadow of the fire, which was a shame. Even a little background information goes a long way to establishing time and place, and I felt this absence alongside the book's emphasis on only specific emotions. While the ones that were talked about were moving, I noticed that many things seemed to be skipped over and the emotion didn't run as deep -- it felt almost distant and clinical. And while trauma was acknowledged respectfully, it was all again very clinical.
I understand this book was published quite shortly after the fire, which might explain why some things feel a little confused or vague -- they just haven't been processed yet. It's a fine balance to get a book about a topical subject out on time while still remaining accurate and solid, and this book mostly falls on the right side of that line. But I did notice the distance, and as I said at the beginning of this review, the fact that the information shared is inconsistent. In some places it's forthcoming and in others it's clear O'Connor is holding back. Which is her right, but I do wonder about the sense of writing such a book if you're not going to go all-in. Writing a memoir seems like an all or nothing deal; you might think readers won't notice if you withhold things, but we do.