Thea lives under a mountain – one that’s ready to blow.
A vet at a mid-sized rural practice, she has been called back during maternity leave and is coping – just – with the juggle of meetings, mealtimes, farm visits, her boss’s search for legal loopholes and the constant care of her much-loved children, Eli and Lucy.
But something is shifting in Thea – something is burning. Or is it that she is becoming aware, for the first time, of the bright, hot core at her centre?
Then comes an urgent call.
Ingeniously layered, Ash is a story about reckoning with one’s rage and finding marvels in the midst of chaos.
Louise Wallace is the author of four collections of poems, and the novel Ash. She is the founder of Starling, an online journal publishing the work of young writers from Aotearoa, and the editor of Ōrongohau | Best New Zealand Poems 2022.
Several people had been suggesting this book to me before it made the NZ Ockham fiction longlist for 2025. Its a slim work, 154 pages and that includes some "poetry bits". I say "poetry bits" but they might best be described as creative spacing ? Max Porter does something similar in Lanny and I bemusedly tolerate this kind of thing. Poets ! you have to love them. Meanwhile the more traditional side of this is rather good, small town NZ, vet struggling to balance motherhood and work, volcanic eruption ( which kind of feels like a stand in for the pandemic ? ). It might seem a slight tale but its got some heft. I hope this one makes the shortlist.
A mountain eruption causes a continuous rain of ash, further complicating everything that a young mother is already juggling. Two small children, a job at a mid-size vet practice, the demands of those around her and of strangers who lean on her.
Sucking it up, as the stoic generations before her, has consequences, as her dreams show and the hospitalisation of her son shows. Something is going to blow, is it the mountain, or will it be this woman?
An interesting story that depicts the overwhelm, the constant pressure, work demands, domestic drudgery and judgement at every turn. And an inclination to bake.
Much is left unsaid, unsupported. And when that changes, when an outlet is found, though justified, it seems misdirected, that notion of frustration built up in one arena and the rage it unleashes, directed at random (though deserving of that wrath) strangers in another.
Is the urgent call answered or merely released to allow a continuation of an age-old unsatisfying existence?
This novella was an interesting accompaniment, comparative read to Spinster by Kate Bolick.
An insightful, funny and sharply observed story. I devoured this in a single sitting, added heaps of tabs for my favourite sections (hint - lots!) and am keen to re-read it in future.
‘I am on maternity leave, which I seem to have taken on with the spirit of an angsty chihuahua.’
This was so well written and aptly depicts the struggles of Thea, who is navigating parenting, domestic management, marriage, farm visits as a vet in a rural clinic, climate concerns, alongside a simmering rage that continues amongst the frazzled moments.
‘The human skull has twenty-two bones, and when you’re this tired you can feel every one of them.’
This is a wonderful debut novel, that was short, sharp and satisfying.
I am very keen to read more from New Zealand author Louise Wallace. She has four collections of poems that I am keen read.
I go paddle boarding with Tania, which might seem strange, but it's something we have talked about for ages. The sun is out without wind, and tiny pieces of cut glass reflect back at us all across the sea. I look over at Tania, her arms like blades slicing through the water. Tania is smiling and I am too. We paddle in unison, away from our lives. We paddle and paddle and paddle until our arms get sore and we can no longer see land, we can barely make out the horizon. And then I wake up and I write this in my dream diary because I want to remember how this one feels.
Ash is everything the NZ reviewers are telling you it is — tight, concise, experimental without losing the narrative pace, filled with a mother and working woman’s frustration, fear, breaking points but also appreciation of the moments of love and loyalty around her.
I’m such a sucker for a farming setting and Wallace’s decision to make her narrator a large animal vet in a rural practice opens up scope for details that are surprising and also grounding, from workplace politics to the palpitation of rams’ testicles.
The tiniest but mightiest book, and maybe the first time I have ever finished a book only to immediately start reading it again. I upgraded this from four stars on reflection and after managing to overcome my reflexive hatred of "creative typesetting" in a novel - it helped to discover that Wallace is in fact a poet, and it helped even more to read the notes at the end on what influenced the poetic asides, which I would typically find unbearably pretentious but in this case genuinely serve to enrich the interior world of the main character. Anyway, this is such a beautiful book, seething with rage in the best way but also so much more than that. I already want to read it a third time
Really loved this punchy, taut novella about the demands of working motherhood. Wallace uses all her poetic might to capture the consuming inferiority of the tension of this season of life. It’s been a long time since I’ve dropped so seamlessly and deeply into a character’s psyche. At a moment when I’m struggling to find the space and headspace to be immersed in reading, I couldn’t put this down.
"'What's it like, being a mum?' a younger woman once asked me.
It's like shattering your body into pieces, gluing them back together so the light shines through the seams, then flooding it with greenery, your whole insides a garden fit to burst."
masterpiece. you (yes, you) should read it right now.
Read in one sitting, which I would highly recommend. Feminist rage erupts from the page and the author's use of poetic typography was very effective: like an intriguing puzzle alongside the main narrative. This is the sort of text that should be studied in literature classes and read widely.
came home from a talk with the author about this and, to my absolute devastation, gobbled it up in one sitting. an amazing novel for which all praise is due. genuinely astounded by how much is packed into this thing, how it manages to spin seemingly ordinary life into one of the most propulsive and heart rending reading experiences i've had this year. so much to say about care, community, work, womanhood and motherhood, and how we relate not just with other humans but with non-humans (animals, landscape) too. not to mention the lovely formal play here with verse interruptions and surreal dream sequences, the deft touch of humour that lightens but also enriches the commentary on misogyny, i mean come on.
Thea is a vet that has been called back from maternity leave to help out at work. She is juggling juggling juggling all the things. Work, husband, two kids. Thea's anger and frustration is building to a rage. And then there the world goes pear shaped and there is an urgent call to pick up her child. I don't want to say too much more.
Well this was a little bite of snappy smart fiction. Ash by Louise Wallace is a short book you can gobble up in one sitting. It was the author's debut novel after several poetry collections which explains the interweaving of verse throughout the novel. There were some structural elements on the page which I usually really love but this didn't land all of the time in Ash.
Ash felt like an unknown setting but I imagined it to be in Australia so when I finished and realised the author was from NZ I was intrigued by her ability to form her place in the story without naming it.
It was a tale of ragey motherhood, oppressive patriarchy and vaguely climate fiction. The titular Ash is a catastrophe which isn't initially expressly defined but gave pandemic vibes despite the clear environmental basis. Confusing? Yes! But also powerful.
I enjoyed my time with Ash. The angry mother story might be a little overdone but here there was definitely a different take. It's easily read in a single sitting and was satisfying. If you enjoy short, sharp, structurally interesting books with poetry woven through then you might like Ah by Louise Wallace.
Holyyyyy. Gulped this down; scratched an itch that i didn't know was there. I loved the layers and poetry throughout, which enhanced the writing in a way that may other authors struggle to do effectively.
Loved the poetry. Or rather: loved that I hated the poetry knowing I was supposed to hate it. Loved the familiarity. Loved the horrifying tension, the looming threat, the claustrophobic smothering toxic ash as a character. Loved the living mountain.
Ash is a novella about Thea, a rural vet in small town New Zealand. A mother of two small children she juggles the overwhelming needs of breastfeeding, never ending laundry and child care with a demanding job in male dominated field, and a husband that barely seems present. Even getting the kids into the car seems like a monumental effort. Despite being on maternity leave Thea is called in to cover for a younger, unattached male colleague who unironically thanks her later in the book for making things better for young vets. Thea is young herself, but feels the weight of her responsibilities weighing her down, she is exhausted (show me a mother who isn't), her husband is no help, her kids need her, her work pressure is building.
The first half of Ash feels a lot like Prophet Song and Soldier Sailor, both powerful books of one woman's struggle. But then a volcano erupts and Thea's life is irrevocably shattered as her community is smothered in ash, forcing businesses to shut and work to go online while the townspeople struggle for supplies and to keep their children healthy. Thea feels like I felt at the beginning of the first Covid lockdown, that the people who will feel this the most are the mothers. There's no escape into work for us now.
Ash is an amazing work, combining poetry, parenting, misogyny, small town New Zealand and a climate disaster into a mighty punch. I felt it so deep in my soul.
Wallace's unique style combines verse and prose, delivering the narrative in subtle and clever ways. Ash is a book I need to own and to revisit often.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
A punch to the face with all the rage and tenderness of motherhood; the imperfection, the repetition. I was going to say 'parenthood', because I related to much of what flows out of our nameless narrator's head in meticulously formed prose and poetry, but no man ever talked to me the way these men do to her. (I should acknowledge that on the back cover, the narrator is named as Thea, but I don't recall seeing that name anywhere in the text; she is mama, or babe, or bitch. But my memory isn't perfect.) She doesn't pour out her shortcomings in guilty spasms, she directs her ire outwards -- but the grief of not having it all together is there in the reported sound of the mother in law calmly baking and cooking and doing dishes, then in the gentle way the mother in law takes the crying infant and soothes both mother and child to sleep. The stakes rise significantly in the second half, and as callous as it may sound, I feel like I'll forget exactly what happens to who, but I'll remember our narrator's readiness to explode at all times i.e. before and after and later. Actually. I won't forget the heifer. Faaaaark. Or the 'trainsong', which, I wonder, may be the same 'trainsong' my own kids demanded on repeat night after night when they were 2.
A true one-sitting read! I flew through this snappy story that blended narrative with poetry and interesting formatting elements.
ASH is a slim read that builds urgency on every page. The blending of a mother’s rage with a climate emergency unfolding amongst the mother’s return from maternity leave work demands and family life made for an intense and suspenseful read. Bubbles of rage brewing just below the surface threaten throughout the story, but is it the eruption from the mother or the mountain that will be the most damaging?
A short read that had a lot to say, though I do wish our conversation wasn’t quite so brief.
I received a gifted copy of this book from the publisher.
The clever storytelling and writing style of this book was amazing. It has such a relatable theme of motherhood while working, navigating a career, a crisis, and marriage. Thea is a very relatable character and the ash crisis reminds me of our own pandemic so I truly related to and enjoyed everything about this book. Somehow despite all of the chaos going on, this book has a calming effect as I read. Absolutely will read this again and again. I received an advance review copy for free, and I am leaving this review voluntarily.
I really struggle to review poetry, how do you rate such personal raw emotions?
Wood managed to really visually as well as write down the roller coaster ride of new mothers.
I’ve never really understood the baby brain, how the mental load felt.
I think this is fantastic, and sadly, women will connect with this and understand it, but it’s the fathers and husbands who should read this, but sadly I don’t think that’s likely.
a poetic and wide-reaching story about crippling responsibility, motherhood, and the fickle nature of volcanoes; a combination that would render most people absolutely catatonic, yet thea marches determinedly through it all. so so beautiful and written by a friend, read it!!!!
Very uncomfortable reading because it is so powerful. The rage is palpable. Loved the writing and loved the endless trivial examples which are just so real.
Thanks to Claire's enthusiastic review for bringing this gem to my attention.
A short, very powerfully poetic novella on misogyny and exploitation, and on the exhausting, overwhelming demands of young motherhood, cleverly layered around a natural catastrophe with Covid-esque overtones in its resultant lockdown.
Inhaled in one sitting, this is emotive, razor sharp, and had me holding my breath from the suffocating ash in the air and the heartrendingly tense finale.
This reminded me so much of Jenny Offill’s Weather (one of my favourite books of all time). I enjoyed the play with form, and the tight, well-paced narrative
Thea is a vet in a rural NZ practice. She has been called back during parental leave and is only just coping, trying to juggle child care, meetings, farm visits, and the demands of her unhelpful boss. She is exhausted, and then the nearby volcano erupts, pouring out ash for days on end. Thea begins to burn up with rage, and things come to a head. As with a number of other recent books I've read, the structure is interesting. Interspersed with the narrative are boxes of text, sometimes only a phrase or two, which have the effect of letting you into Thea's mind. Along with these there is a section where another story is being told in a line across the bottom of the pages. These don't confuse the main story but add a lot to the atmosphere of the book. The book is very short - it takes only a couple of hours to read - but I would like to re-read it again, this time more slowly as I know there was a lot of detail and subtlety I missed.