Robert Drewe is the dear uncle of Australian letters: a book club favourite, a genial family man and a gent many of us have spent Saturdays with – coffee in hand, The Age in our lap. A new book from him is like a companion returned.

In The Local Wildlife, we swim through pleasant whimsies and tales of the Northern Rivers – that exotic part of Australia where the fauna is as tremendously tropical, outlandish and bizarre as its residents. And therein lies the beauty of the book, because, for all its utopianism, gentrification and bogans, it’s clear that the hills around Byron Bay still retain the contradictions and harmonies that have earned it a place in our hearts.

Through more than 60 short vignettes, each only a few pages long, we encounter prehistoric koalas, meat-eating ants, ghost dogs, dung-beetles, swamp-hens, legendary bulls, horny echidnas, paralysis ticks, yowies, thylacines and drongos. But of course, in this part of the world, snakes and toads prevail. In fact, the number of times we see these ubiquitous reptiles makes you wonder if the photo of the Snake Man that accompanies the book’s epigraphs isn’t some ironic self-portrait.

However, this overlapping is far from tedious. Stories and characters intersect, creating a sense of community and return. One particular local’s trouble with his Russian bride is especially heartfelt. But, as Drewe writes, ‘what’s an animal story without a sentimental finish?’

In many respects, this collection could be what Drewe calls, in ‘The Attraction of Crocodiles’, his ‘annual round-up of Australian stupidity’. After all, these characters are quintessentially Australian, caught in the lens of a master with an eye for the absurd. If we weren’t watching closely enough, we might think it all almost normal. With his dry and humble wit, Drewe starts with one anecdote and lands us somewhere else, making us laugh when we least expect it. This is pleasant coffee-time stuff.

Luke May is a freelance writer.