Cleaning out the cupboards has become a popular thing to do in this time of Coronavirus. For most of us, cleaning won’t change our lives drastically, but for those who have suffered trauma, help is at hand (with gloves on) from professional cleaners who restore the places and spaces where traumatic events have taken place.

The Trauma Cleaner is a look behind the scenes at what happens in the hours after a traumatic event has occurred. Murder, suicide, fire, and hoarding are just some of the situations that trauma cleaners deal with every day. Physical cleaning has to be done, but this book also provides a psychological insight into the lives of those who suffer.

Forensic cleaner Sandra Pankhurst takes author Sarah Krasnostein into the lives of people who hoard, who live with dead rats, and reside in squalor. Sandra cleans up after murders, suicides, and fires. She deals with bodily fluids, filthy mattresses, rotting food, faeces, and blood. Some of the clients of trauma cleaners, those who hoard, literally can’t clean. Access to some of the rooms in their houses is impossible, and as a consequence, their own homes are occupational health and safety hazards.

“‘…the house is spinning with movement: mould is travelling up, and down the walls, food is rotting, cans are rusting, water is dripping, insects are being born, and they are living and dying…’ ”

Just as importantly, Sandra deals with the clients of the premises. It is here that her remarkable skills and experience come to the fore because Sandra, in parallel to her work, has cleaned up her life. Sandra is proud of the fact that she is a hard worker. ‘As a prostitute, I was a great prostitute. As a cleaner, I’m a great cleaner.’

Krasnostein recalls the first time she enters a house of one of Sandra’s clients. She tries to find words to describe the smell. She wonders if there has ever been a word to describe it. ‘This smell is the lingering presence of all the physical things we put into and wash off ourselves. But it is equally the smell of defeat, of isolation, of self-hate. Or, more simply, it is the smell of pain.’ This is cleaning on a whole new level.

Trauma cleaners have to know a lot about the decomposition of the body and bodily fluids, what types of products will work on different types of surfaces, what turns acidic, and what can be salvaged from a scene. They work with industrial chemicals and have to understand occupational health and safety protocols.

Sandra is somewhat of an unreliable narrator, and the author makes the reader aware that Sandra may be glossing over some of the more unsavoury aspects of her life. Sandra’s own trauma started young and continued for much of her life. There are parts she cannot remember.

I didn’t think Sandra was trying to obfuscate. Her turbulent childhood, marred by violence, bled into her later life as a sex worker, a husband, a father and into the Sandra she is today. She dares to venture into places from which most of us would run. Psychology tells us that when people experience severe trauma, they often block things out.

Sandra’s journey has seen her reinvent herself many times to the point where she is now comfortable with who she is. Perhaps this is why Sandra is without judgement. She’s been there.

Reading this book, I marvelled at how Sandra is as functional as she is given what has happened to her. Sandra remains elusive and an enigma, despite what we know about her. This is what drew me to her character. She makes order. She rectifies. Sandra physically cleans, but she also removes some of the psychological detritus of her clients’ lives. And she treats each client with kindness and dignity.

Krasnostein blends Sandra’s story with the stories of her clients in a crisp style. Sandra’s past, rendered into third person present tense, has the effect of transporting the reader into Sandra’s world at that time.

This is not just a story about trauma cleaning. This is a story about how some of us survive.