Volume 24 | Number 4 | Issue 108 | Summer 2014 Paul Morris: “The ordeal of civility” (Comment) Don Brash: Sharleen Forbes and Antong Victorio (eds), The New Zealand CPI at 100: History and Interpretation Ruth Nichol: Geoff Cochrane, Astonished…
The Mantis
Philip Temple
$8.00, Vertebrate Publishing e-book,
ISBN 9781906148881
Among Secret Beauties: A Memoir of Mountaineering in New Zealand and the Himalayas
Brian Wilkins
Otago University Press, $45.00,
ISBN 9781877578489
Old climbers and bold climbers, but no old bold climbers: a common saying in alpine circles. Two works by no longer bold New Zealand mountaineers tell everything you ever wanted to know – or didn’t – about climbing expeditions. Despite their different careers – Philip Temple as an acclaimed writer, Brian Wilkins as a scientist, teacher and singer – both authors have accumulated life-long experiences on snow, rock and ice. Now, they have packed into these works every hazard and impasse, the boredom, the squalor, the magic and exhilaration, the excruciating physical and mental suffering.
Boundless
Greg Hopkinson
Mountford Media, $30.00,
ISBN 9780473260736
ecoman
Malcolm Rands
Random House, $40.00,
ISBN 9781775535034
Boundless and ecoman chronicle the journeys of two of New Zealand’s most colourful and successful entrepreneurs, Greg Hopkinson (founder of pet store Animates) and Malcolm Rands (founder of sustainable products wholesaler ecostore). These two memoirs, while fascinating in their own right, should be of particular interest to budding entrepreneurs, whether of the more traditional commercial variety, or their more recent incarnation, social entrepreneurs. Each author describes his unique business journey, but common to both is how inextricably tied those narratives are to their personal journeys.
The Grass Catcher: A Digression About Home
Ian Wedde
Victoria University Press, $40.00,
ISBN 9780864739384
The protagonist of the present-day portion of Symmes Hole (1986), Ian Wedde’s canonical and underread novel about settler colonialism, is obsessed with history. He digs and delves in it, but his tools are not always archival in nature. Early in the novel he gulps down an unnamed psychoactive agent that fuels a long hallucinatory reverie of Pacific history. Why the drug? It has its comic uses, of course, but its chief interest is to give history a paradoxical sense of reality, as if the events of the past could be brought right up close and visible by chemical means. The drug does not give its taker any certain, magical knowledge of history. In fact, quite the reverse: it allows rumours and legends into the story as well, and troubles the veracity of the whole picture. But it imbues the past with the glow of urgency. As such, it is one solution to a literary problem that is common, but not limited, to historical fiction: how to make done deeds, matters of dry historical record, leap across the gap that separates them from the pressing concerns of our lives now. In his altered state, Wedde’s researcher need not go looking for the past ‒ the past comes to him. The danger (and the source of much humour) is that it makes history meaningful at the expense of making the historian a dissociative, drug-addled lunatic whom no-one else would go near.
Sorrows of a Century: Interpreting Suicide in New Zealand, 1900-2000
John C Weaver
Bridget Williams Books, $60.00,
ISBN 9781927277232
All of us seek happiness, Pascal declared centuries ago, even at the point of a warm gun. “This is without exception,” argued the author of the Pensées:
Whatever different means they employ, they all tend to this end. The cause of some going to war, and of others avoiding it, is the same desire in both, attended with different views. The will never takes the least step but to this object. This is the motive of every action of every man, even of those who hang themselves.
Child Poverty in New Zealand
Jonathan Boston and Simon Chapple
Bridget Williams Books, $50.00,
ISBN 9781927247860
“New Zealand has the necessary resources to reduce child poverty, and equitable and efficient ways to secure these resources are available. The question is not about our capacity, it is about our political will.” This is the unequivocal conclusion of Jonathan Boston and Simon Chapple in their book Child Poverty in New Zealand. They base it on their exhaustive analysis of the scale, complexity and damage of child poverty, and the myriad ways we could tackle it.
Bugs
Whiti Hereaka
Huia, $25.00,
ISBN 9781775501336
When We Wake
Karen Healey
Allen & Unwin, $22.00,
ISBN 9781742378084
Awakening
Natalie King
Penguin, $20.00,
ISBN 9780143570790
Bugs, the eponymous protagonist of Whiti Hereaka’s first YA novel, is unimpressed with much of what her generation is expected to read. Her English teacher insists they discuss that infamous “human/werewolf/vampire love triangle … because the characters are our age, they’re going through what we’re going through, we can relate. Like half of us could relate to a white chick with a thing for dogs and dead dudes.”
The Bantam and the Soldier
Jennifer Beck (Robyn Belton illus)
Scholastic, $19.50,
ISBN 9781775432074
The Anzac Puppy
Peter Millett (Trish Bowles illus)
Scholastic, $19.50,
ISBN 9781775430971
Best Mates: Three Lads Who Went to War Together
Philippa Werry (Bob Kerr illus)
New Holland, $20.00,
ISBN 9781869664114
Jim’s Letters
Glyn Harper (Jenny Cooper illus)
Picture Puffin, $25.00,
ISBN 9780143505907
Anzac Day: The New Zealand Story
Philippa Werry (Bob Kerr illus)
New Holland, $25.00,
ISBN 9781869663803
The contemporary challenge of making sense of WWI is made considerably trickier in regard to young readers with the, (understandable) limits on how the realities of war might be conveyed to the 5-12 age group. Rising to this challenge, and joining the surge of publications accompanying the war’s centenary, the five works reviewed here present aspects of New Zealand’s war experience to young readers. Striking illustrations, some sketched from familiar photographs, aid in this task, conveying scene and tone. Indeed, the attention to expressions and pose (which range from scenes of mirth to downward gazes and thousand-yard stares) are well used to convey mood. They are also imbued with an impressive attention to detail; though I’ll have to ask Bob Kerr how available The Māoriland Worker, which the Best Mates are shown reading, was at Gallipoli.