After a terrible fire at Lac-Mégantic in Canada in 2013, notes Easthope, the coroners reflected on “the stories from [post-9/11] New York, of the sometimes many funerals for the same person as more remains were identified, and were worried about putting their community through that”. As one of the world's leading experts on disaster she has been at the centre of the most seismic events of.

I met the author of this book at a local conference for Cymru Versus Arthritis- very engaging speaker, talks about a serious subject with humour. I so much admire her work ethic, commitment, empathy and compassion and I think she very articulately humanises her journey with pain and evil. I loved that alongside the narrative were the family events and the angst and suffering that the family experienced over time. The book gave me so much more insight and education into what happens once the first responders have left.

A deeply moving and fascinating insight when life is at its most brutal, who comes to organize, support and recover afterwards.

I was drawn to this book because it's an intriguing topic which is rarely discussed in public, and I wanted to learn more. This trick was learned from the operations at New York’s Ground Zero where it was discovered that, in the weeks following 9/11, pigeons were picking up small human bones from the site and building them into their nests. Lucy Easthope did a marvelous job narrating her book and it makes it all the more personal that it's the author reading it herself. Dr Rhiannon Firth gave a wonderful paper during the seminar event below about anarchy and mutual aid, drawing from work on disaster capitalism. She highlights good practice but also shines a light on the times when confusion and sometimes incompetence come to play.

When The Dust Settles, Lucy Easthope ( paperback March 23) ₩18,000 A RADIO 4 BOOK OF THE WEEK*'It does for disaster what Rachel Clarke's Dear Life has done for palliative medicine and Adam Kay's This Is Going To Hurt for obstetrics. I vividly remember the morning I opened my front door to gothic snow - tiny, black crystalline particles drifting in the air and sparkling in the sun.