Narrated from the perspective of Tom, the younger of the boys, the writing in Floundering is impressive. The voice of the young narrator rings consistent and true, the characters feel honestly portrayed, and the countryside and unrelenting heat are depicted so clearly that they almost become supporting characters, shaping the story as strongly as any person.

The relationship between the brothers is done well, petty squabbling mixed with protective instincts, the occasional harsher edge to their arguments underlining the trying circumstances. Nev, a character introduced in the second half of the novel, is also noteworthy. Isolated and invariably succumbing when led to temptation, he nevertheless becomes almost sympathetic, and remains both an ally and antagonist to the boys. Unfortunately, the one character that never feels complete is Loretta. She remains as distant to the reader as she is to her children, her motivations largely based on whim. It may not remove the impact of her actions, some of which are unforgivable, but it does remove their potential for deeper meaning, which leaves the book feeling a little shallow.

Floundering is a grim look at the margins of contemporary Australia, without much hope or catharsis in its resolution. Despite the author’s evident skill, the novel fails to deliver on her clear potential.