A grief novel with its skin on inside out.

Amelia is a cosmetic mortician, professionally fluent in making dead bodies look peaceful, while her own life is held together by sex, avoidance and shock. 

The book is funny, filthy, raw and weirdly tender, which is a hard little animal to keep alive without making it cute. Baxter writes about death, desire, work, bodies, motherhood, disgust and dissociation with a sharp eye for the absurd rituals people use to survive feeling too much. There’s a strong contemporary Australian sensibility here: deadpan, bodily, emotionally intelligent, allergic to clean redemption.

Good for readers who like grief fiction that does not arrive wearing linen and whispering about healing. More meat locker than meditation app.

Allen & Unwin paperback, first published 2021; number line indicates first printing. Light cover and edge wear, with visible creasing to front cover and corners; pages appear clean and readable. Solid copy.