THE US EDITION OF SHIRLEY HAZZARD'S THE GREAT FIRE, PUBLISHED BY FARRAR, Straus nd Giroux on 14 October 2003, is spangled with flames and names. Yellow-orange tongues fire lick the cover, its lower corners etched with silhouetted ers and an image cropped from one J. M. W. Turner's masterpieces. On the front, a gold medallion added after the announcement the award proclaims the novel a National Book Award Winner, while endorsements by prominent novelists line the back. The title, in bold white sans serif, scrolls above the author's name in bright red-orange. Wrapped from left back to right front, the typography creates for the front cover the burning imperative eat startling the viewer, who can read the writer's surname, homophone for hazard, directly below as omen.Despite its dramatic cover, Hazzard's latest novel has largely escaped critical attention. Although applauded for her profound sensitivity (Sellick 187) and emotional microscopy (Mallon), Hazzard wins less acclaim than one might expect for a winner the Miles Franklin and National Book Awards, short-listed for the Orange and Man Booker Prizes. While the extent her corpus, just ten books in fifty years, undoubtedly limits exposure, Brigitta Olubas suggests another reason for a lack critical interest, Hazzard's habits linearity and referential language, seemingly out place in the twenty-first century. 1 Peeling back the veneer tradition that obscures Hazzard's postmodern perspective, Olubas cites artful anachronisms in The Great Fire, whose central image links the 1945 bombing Japan to the 1666 Great Fire in London, and whose invocations western humanism raise questions the complex temporalities literature and cultural inheritance ( Anachronism 281).2 Olubas focuses on the novel's visual imagery, but Hazzard's onomastic choices are as finely tuned as her scenes. Through her symbolic and discursive onomastic techniques, Hazzard problematizes the assumptions English and Australian characters in post-war Japan, that nation defeated if never colonized by European powers, its imperial designs cut short as dramatically as theirs. The names her characters and the patterns their use not only reinforce her theme-the persistence love and war, the world's great fires-but register the postcolonial political pulse an overtly traditional romantic novel. novel.Set in the immediate aftermath World War II, The Great Fire emerges, unavoidably neocolonial, from Hazzard's post-expatriate sensibilities. While she was at work on it, when interviewers attempted to place her in the expat literary tradition, she countered, It wouldn't occur to me to consider myself an expatriate. I'm not even sure which country I'd be an expatriate of (Shirley Hazzard: Back to Basics 48).3 From 2003, the novel reaches half a century back to 1947, when Hiroshima and Auschwitz had severed the world from its supposedly civilized past. Untethered, the binaries love and war, East and West, fate and agency entangle as the plot tracks the unpredictable divagations the human heart. Stripped to its frame, the story thirty-two-year-old British war hero Aldred Leith, still in uniform, and sixteen-year-old Helen Driscoll, daughter an Australian brigadier general, traces the old comedy: boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl, a storyline Hazzard explicitly invokes.4 Amid the ash occupied Asia, however, her plotline twists to irony its classically comic ending, two lovers in each other's arms. Beyond the scope simple romance, the age disparity between the couple its only complication, the novel explores critical issues identity and authority, implicit in its use names, among the imbalances power in an emerging Cold War world.The Great Fire is peopled with British citizens and colonial nationals who carry western names as their birthright across the expiring British empire. Among them Leith-literate, ethical, and philosophical-represents the idealistic Hippocratic attempt to do no harm in his appointment to Japan. …