After reading this affecting novel, I took myself off for a little walk down by my local creek. I needed to see trees in the sunshine, follow their shadows and examine the foliage around their bases. Ilka Tampke’s new book is an ode to the magnificence of trees, but it is also about our relationship with them: our awe and our fear. She reminds us of this power in the most astonishing way. Readers of Inga Simpson, Ceridwen Dovey and Richard Powers, please pick up this book now. This beautiful novel is for readers who need their breath taken away.

The protagonist, Nellika Werner, is a mother and artist who lives by the bush and every day goes for long, solo walks. One morning, she is struck by a large falling manna gum branch, which pins her face down to the ground. She is unable to move and surely her spine is broken. She may die there.

Throughout the day, Nellika ponders not only the pain coursing through her body, but also her mothering, her art practice, and her relationship with Country. Had she really grasped the ecological web linking trees, sunshine, insects and native animals? Had she respected – appreciated – Country enough? And what about her parenting legacy? She had assumed there was more time to build tighter bonds, to forgive herself for her regrets, to rejoice in her memories and her desires.

Tampke has taken a sophisticated, philosophical approach to pondering how much we want, and how little we truly fathom the land we live on. This novel is a powerful reminder to examine our own expectations, and our messy, fraught history with Country. It’s a timely wake-up call to recognise the beauty around us.