The 95th in this occasional series of reprints from Quote Unquote the magazine is from the
August 1996 issue. The lead book review was David Eggleton on Sue McCauley’s novel
A Fancy Man, followed by Barbara Else
on E Annie Proulx’s novel Accordion
Crimes, Kevin Ireland on Jan Corbett’s non-fiction crime debut Caught By His Past and Sheridan Keith on
Elizabeth Smithers’ journal The Journal
Box. Here is Gerry Webb on two first New Zealand novels.
FAT
by Raewyn Alexander
Penguin, $24.95, ISBN 0140260374
FINDING HOME
by Dominic Sheehan
Secker & Warburg, $19.95, ISBN 0790004623
Auckland poet Raewyn Alexander’s first novel fairly crackles
and pops. The sheer dash and bite of her language make for a densely packed and
colourful text with lots of great lines. The narrator is Poppy, maid and minder
to Iris, a well-to-do hooker, “a whore through and through”. Poppy’s sharp
intelligence ducks back and forth over her history and contacts — middle-class
origins in Avondale, waiting at tables, university, a relationship with a dope
grower, work at a London sex club, the underworld of the Auckland sex industry.
At the same time she relates the sinister developments resulting from her
delivery of Iris’s blackmail note to a wealthy, titled sleazeball in the
Waikato. It’s a narrative which shifts and weaves.
Poppy has a strong, sometimes combative voice; she gets in a
few punches against “the system” and at the end, when she and her five-year-old
daughter flee Auckland for the bosom of her family, she finds in Marxism “the
theory to back up what I’ve always felt”. It’s not a subtle option or a very satisfying
ending. In fact the novel loses some of its brilliant edge in the latter stages
as Poppy seeks normality in her family and with a local lad on the Firth of
Thames.
But the main part, the characters and scenes in and around
Auckland and the sex business, is outstanding. Especially brilliant are
dangerous, decadent Sir Arthur (“an old walrus full of fish”), boss lady Ho in
her 80s and Iris with “the hard seagull eyes”. A luscious and coruscating book
— I was hooked on the first page.
Life was never more intense and hair-raising than that year
in Standard Three: a treacherous teacher, playground fights, parents’ arguments
spilling from behind closed doors, a big sister who leaves home without a
blessing, small-town hostility towards dad — my Standard Three in Cheviot,
North Canterbury, in the mid-50s? Not quite; but Dominic Sheehan’s Finding
Home, the story of Kevin Garrick’s year in a small Taranaki town in the
mid-70s, rang a few bells.
Kevin says at the outset that his adult self keeps getting
in the way of his attempt “to listen and think as I was then”, but in fact his
story beautifully recreates the world of the child, and this is the major
strength of this disarmingly fresh and gripping book.
Especially authentic is the private nature of the child’s
world that we are shown — Kevin’s relationships, fantasies and humiliations,
his genuinely scary encounters with others’ nastiness and suffering are not
things that he can tell his parents about. At times I thought of Ronald Hugh
Morrieson’s young protagonists, but though this novel skirts the macabre it is
a much gentler creature and opts for language that is low-key, sometimes rather
ordinary, but always transparent. Sheehan’s sympathetic characterisation and
tense story-line will appeal to both adults and teenagers.
UPDATE
I had done some work on Raewyn Alexander’s Fat. The submitted draft was a bit of a mess but her talent shone through. I wrote a supportive reader’s report (“The manuscript needs a major overhaul, but what’s good in it is very good… There is no other writer in New Zealand doing what Alexander does when she hits the mark.”) with suggestions for how the m/s might be made publishable, basically shifting many of the scenes set in England to New Zealand because she was so sharp about life and class here. I was astonished at how quickly she did that — within weeks, from memory. My second report said, “An incredible improvement.” That revised version, which is what was published, was every bit as good as Gerry says.
One of the great pleasures of working as a publisher’s
reader was discovering new talent. After Raewyn came writers such as Kelly Ana
Morey, Linda Olsson, Hamish Clayton. You knew from the first page – the first
paragraph, even – that here was a major new voice. Reading manuscripts can be
tedious, but this was seriously exciting. And in each case, a star was born.
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