When a tragic bushfire puts two kids in hospital, Indigenous teenager Andrew knows the police will come after him first. But Andrew almost wants to be caught, because at least it might make his dad come and rescue him from suburban Brisbane and his neglectful mother.
Growing up in small-town Tasmania, Andrew struggled at home, at school, at everything. The only thing that distracted or excited him was starting little fires. Flames boosted his morale and purified his thoughts, and they were the only thing in his life he could control. Until one day things got out of hand, and Andrew was forced to leave everything behind.
Now as the police close in and Andrew runs out of people to turn to, he must decide whether he can put his faith in himself to find a way forward.
Burn is an affecting, powerful novel about prejudice and growing up on the margins from exciting new Australian voice Melanie Saward.
The wonderfully talented Melanie Saward states in her author’s note that Burn is a hopeful book, one which offers the possibilities of a decolonised youth justice system that acknowledges the price of historical disconnection. She made this choice with the intention of communicating the importance of hope that things can change for the better. This resonated for me as I read Burn, a novel that is, all at once, powerful, compelling, relatable and breathtaking.
Burn is as relatable for YA readers as it is for those of us who are chronologically more advanced. There’s a freshness to the voice of Burn, written from the first-person perspective of Andrew Walker from three geographical perspectives: Launceston, Port Sorrell and Bracken Ridge. This is a device that resonates with the novel’s themes of belonging and the importance of place.
Andrew is immediately loveable, candid, vulnerable and, at times, infuriating. He’s deftly and sensitively written with huge feeling and keen understanding. Saward has an excellent ear for dialogue and sense of pacing. Her insights into the inner workings of Andrew are profound.
Burn is heartbreaking in Andrew’s sense of disconnection, compelling in its soulful intimacy and honesty, and absolutely hopeful in its conclusion.
Saward’s ability to write about pyromania in a way that’s relatable and refreshing deserves a mention; the descriptions of Andrew’s feelings about the lighters he carries and the fires themselves are beautifully and compassionately crafted.
Burn is an illuminating and warming coming-of-age novel that emphasises the need for a sense of belonging and a place to call home. It’s bound to linger with readers well past its conclusion.
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