Sue Andrews’ Killing Brumbies is a strange, moving, and very Australian book. It weaves fact and fiction into a story that roams from love and art to politics and moral outrage. It opens with a stark scene of wild horses and government men with guns, then slows down into something tender and tragic. The novel moves through time and memory, past and present blurring, anchored by the wildness of the land and the cruelty that sometimes hides beneath good intentions. It’s about freedom, loss, and the quiet grief of watching something beautiful be destroyed.

Reading it, I felt pulled between admiration and sadness. Andrews writes like she paints, with color and feeling, though her brush can be rough. The book drifts at times, focusing on history or other digressions, but when it hits its mark, it’s powerful. Her prose is visual and sensual. You can smell the dust, hear the flies, and feel the chill of mountain air. I could sense her anger at bureaucracy and her love for horses, and I respected both. There’s a sort of fury under her words, an old wound that never healed, and she lets it bleed across the page without apology. I liked that.

There are moments of brilliance, lines that hum with truth. Some parts meander, but through it all, there’s heart. Andrews writes with conviction. She cares deeply about what she’s saying, and that matters more to me. By the end, I felt like I’d lived through something hard and necessary, like stepping out of a storm.

I’d recommend Killing Brumbies to readers who love the Australian landscape, who want stories with grit and spirit rather than tidy conclusions. If you’re drawn to tales of rebellion, of art and nature and moral courage, this book will speak to you.

Pages: 406 | ASIN : B0FM191NQM