Working as an orderly in an aged care home, Bux develops a friendship with Bruno, an elderly Italian with Alzheimer’s who, as a young immigrant, fell in love with an Australian man. A framed photograph of the pair together is Bruno’s prized possession. Through Bruno’s fractured utterances Bux builds a picture of a love affair that was doomed because of the homophobic times.

Bux’s other support comes from his mother. Like her son, she is a survivor of trauma and deeply aware of the inequities of life. Their relationship is both tender and volatile, and her complexity and candour make her a memorable character. The novel is written in clipped sentences that encapsulate Bux’s fragile hold on reality and his inevitable descent into addiction. Memories recur as he revisits the streets and landmarks of his past. Even though deeply clouded by drugs he shows a remarkable insight into the world around him. The text is punctuated with untranslated Greek words and the tough language of the street, reflecting the multiple worlds that Bux inhabits.

Down the Hume should rightly take its place alongside the fiction of Christos Tsiolkas, Maxine Beneba Clarke, and newcomer George Haddad as work that reflects the reality and occasional ugliness of Australia’s multiculturalism.