However, the innocence and vulnerability that is his true state often seeps through. In The Torch, the underlying pathos becomes more pronounced. The narrator adopts a tone of cynical knowingness, clearly drawn from his parents, but he has lost his illusion of control. Copious tears are shed as the boy strives to tolerate the humiliations and abuses inflicted on him at school and at home. The new centre, around whom the community appears to turn, is Keith, alias The Torch, a young pyromaniac who seeks refuge in thedepths of the city. His plight gives the narrator, now styling himself as ‘The Spirit of Progress’ new purpose. As the story progresses, the narrator begins to move towards an achievable, independent, and surprisingly mature form of heroism. His efforts to protect Keith are unwavering, even as the novel reaches its resounding climax.

Though the story is repetitive at times, Twohig holds the balance between layered perspectives. The tone is engaging, the characters compelling. The Torch, like its predecessor offers a sympathetic and insightful appraisal of the bewilderment of childhood, and an unflinching portrait of Melbourne in the 1960s.