Indigenous cultural heritage and its political meaning in contemporary Australia fuel the majority of van Neerven’s stories. Explorations of homosexuality give the collection an ardent energy as artificial social roles are pushed aside in a search for authentic moments of being. More than anything, Heat and Light is driven by a growing literary identity, the ways stories carry experience and truth from one generation to another, from one culture to another, from person to person. The collection offers insight into an evolving sense of self which is in the very process of interweaving the many narratives that make an individual. In doing so it often acquires a compelling intimacy.

The overall design of the book is less appealing, and the three parts of the book do not create a cohesive whole. Heat and Light showcases van Neerven’s best writing, but it is a proto-novel that, given more space, might have expanded into an exceptional family saga. ‘Water’, a poorly executed science fiction novella, is disruptive. The ten stories in ‘Light’, however, form the core of what might have been a brilliant collection in its own right. As it stands, the reader finds premature pieces mingled with fully realised and precocious stories.

What is clear is that Ellen van Neerven is able to produce writing with a rare imaginative force that allows her to rework autobiographical and political preoccupations and offer Australian literary culture a fresh vision.