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Dance with the Devils
Green energy, a dedicated workforce, and ... 'shrooms?
So, Peter. You built a geothermal power station in Tasmania?
Yes, but it was my brother's idea.
Done anything like that before?
No. I managed hotels in America.
Any problems stand out?
Money, the government, greenies, magic mushrooms, God.
God?
Er yes - it rained a lot.
But you finished it in the end?
Killed it.
When Peter Main takes on his brother's legacy project, he expects it will be plain sailing. Protests, politics, cost blowouts and a most unfortunate death are all overcome, but when an evangelical herbalist takes things a bit too far, everyone agrees something's got to be done.
While the Tasmanian devils argue noisily in the night, the devil is in the detail. Isolated in the Tasmanian bush, the people at Hot Rocks must rely on their own moral compass - if they have one.
So, Peter. You built a geothermal power station in Tasmania?
Yes, but it was my brother's idea.
Done anything like that before?
No. I managed hotels in America.
Any problems stand out?
Money, the government, greenies, magic mushrooms, God.
God?
Er yes - it rained a lot.
But you finished it in the end?
Killed it.
When Peter Main takes on his brother's legacy project, he expects it will be plain sailing. Protests, politics, cost blowouts and a most unfortunate death are all overcome, but when an evangelical herbalist takes things a bit too far, everyone agrees something's got to be done.
While the Tasmanian devils argue noisily in the night, the devil is in the detail. Isolated in the Tasmanian bush, the people at Hot Rocks must rely on their own moral compass - if they have one.
285 pages, Kindle Edition
Published June 4, 2024
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
April 1, 2025
Paul Frisby’s Dance with the Devils is a sharp, satirical novel that explores the volatile mix of industry, community, and ethics in a remote Tasmanian town teetering between promise and peril. When Peter Main steps in to complete his late brother’s geothermal project—Hot Rocks—he anticipates a smooth continuation. Instead, he’s dropped into a swirling mess of protest movements, spiritual fanaticism, environmental tension, and a murder that turns everything on its head. The story unfolds with wit and bite, revealing how murky the waters of progress can be, especially when the devils—literal and metaphorical—begin to dance.
Frisby’s prose is rich with dark humor and layered dialogue, a perfect match for the novel’s themes of ambition, corruption, and moral ambiguity. The isolated Tasmanian bush is not just a setting but a character of its own—untamed, unpredictable, and quietly judging the human drama unfolding in its midst. The cast is large and intentionally messy, from Peter’s grieving but determined efforts to complete his brother’s vision, to characters like the manipulative herbalist Claude and activist Anya, who blends protest with paganism in unsettling ways. The tension rises slowly but steadily, as the line between idealism and extremism blurs. “Hot Rocks had started as an idea. Now it was a battleground,” Peter reflects midway through the novel, summing up the simmering conflict.
Plot-wise, the novel resists conventional pacing. It leans more into observation than propulsion, and at times, the number of perspectives can feel a bit overwhelming. However, this structure allows the reader to sink into the ethical gray areas the novel wants to explore. The death at the center of the plot is less a whodunit and more a spark that exposes the worst (and sometimes best) in people. Frisby is less interested in solving crimes than in examining the ripple effects of power, ideology, and grief.
What keeps the narrative grounded is Peter, whose personal loss and quiet perseverance offer an emotional throughline amid the chaos. Though some supporting characters verge on caricature, they serve the book’s larger satirical tone. Dialogue is especially strong throughout—snappy, cynical, and often laced with dry irony. Frisby’s use of the titular “devils,” both as a real presence (the native Tasmanian creatures) and a symbolic one, adds thematic weight without feeling forced.
This book is likely to appeal to readers who enjoy intellectually charged fiction with ethical dilemmas, dark comedy, and political undercurrents. Fans of writers like Richard Flanagan, Peter Carey, or even Tim Winton may find familiar rhythms here, particularly in the novel’s engagement with land, industry, and identity.
Dance with the Devils doesn’t offer easy answers—but it does ask necessary questions. What does progress cost? Who decides the value of a life, a belief, or a patch of wilderness? And when things go wrong, who do we blame? This is a thoughtful, sharp-edged novel that will leave readers thinking long after the final page.
Frisby’s prose is rich with dark humor and layered dialogue, a perfect match for the novel’s themes of ambition, corruption, and moral ambiguity. The isolated Tasmanian bush is not just a setting but a character of its own—untamed, unpredictable, and quietly judging the human drama unfolding in its midst. The cast is large and intentionally messy, from Peter’s grieving but determined efforts to complete his brother’s vision, to characters like the manipulative herbalist Claude and activist Anya, who blends protest with paganism in unsettling ways. The tension rises slowly but steadily, as the line between idealism and extremism blurs. “Hot Rocks had started as an idea. Now it was a battleground,” Peter reflects midway through the novel, summing up the simmering conflict.
Plot-wise, the novel resists conventional pacing. It leans more into observation than propulsion, and at times, the number of perspectives can feel a bit overwhelming. However, this structure allows the reader to sink into the ethical gray areas the novel wants to explore. The death at the center of the plot is less a whodunit and more a spark that exposes the worst (and sometimes best) in people. Frisby is less interested in solving crimes than in examining the ripple effects of power, ideology, and grief.
What keeps the narrative grounded is Peter, whose personal loss and quiet perseverance offer an emotional throughline amid the chaos. Though some supporting characters verge on caricature, they serve the book’s larger satirical tone. Dialogue is especially strong throughout—snappy, cynical, and often laced with dry irony. Frisby’s use of the titular “devils,” both as a real presence (the native Tasmanian creatures) and a symbolic one, adds thematic weight without feeling forced.
This book is likely to appeal to readers who enjoy intellectually charged fiction with ethical dilemmas, dark comedy, and political undercurrents. Fans of writers like Richard Flanagan, Peter Carey, or even Tim Winton may find familiar rhythms here, particularly in the novel’s engagement with land, industry, and identity.
Dance with the Devils doesn’t offer easy answers—but it does ask necessary questions. What does progress cost? Who decides the value of a life, a belief, or a patch of wilderness? And when things go wrong, who do we blame? This is a thoughtful, sharp-edged novel that will leave readers thinking long after the final page.
October 6, 2025
I really, really enjoyed this. As a Tasmanian, with a keen eye on politics and an understanding of how energy projects are put together I found this an incredibly fascinating read - and something I could see playing out in real life. The author’s knowledge of remote landscapes and areas of the state is fantastic, and it was an incredibly realistic read. There were so many interesting little twists and turns, from where the initial owner came into play, to how our kooky nurse friend’s story ended… very abruptly. I’m glad my friend gave me this to read, I need to buy a copy for my grandmother because I think it’s something she’ll enjoy too.
July 7, 2025
This was an easy entertaining read, with some local (to me) Tasmanian context thrown in for good measure. My gripe was the ending: There was a FAR better way to do it, but I won’t spoil it with the details. A light romp that turns not so light.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews