Christchurch City Libraries Blog

It took me precisely two sessions to break my new strictly fiction rule, but this guy was worth it. Martin Edmond has always had a fresh approach to the art of biography, an approach I particularly enjoy. He’s been a Montana Book Awards nominee (for The resurrection of Philip Clairmont) and winner (for Chronicle of the unsung).

Edmond is also an  interesting and thoughtful speaker about his work. The last time I saw him there was an air of almost painful honesty about his responses to questions, a far cry from some of the overly polished literary performers who give the impression that it’s all just a carefully scripted routine, if it’s Saturday this must be Auckland Writers and Readers.

Speaking with Peter Wells, himself a gifted memoirist whose Long loop home links him with Napier so strongly in my mind I thought of him during the relentless T.V. coverage of recent events in that city, Edmond had a dizzying number of new books to talk about.

Luca Antara: passages in search of Australia, started because Edmond wanted to write a another book  and didn’t know what it was. It’s a skilful blend of fiction and non-fiction, he loved writing it and it shows.

The supply party is a quest memoir about the ill-fated expedition of Burke and Wills. What does quest memoir mean? It means his publisher was on to him about a blurb.

Zone of the marvellous has the theme of what the Europeans were looking for when they set out for the great Southern land.

Next up is a book about Colin McCahon, or rather about the moment in 1984 when McCahon went missing for a couple of days in Sydney. McCahon got lost in the Sydney Botanical Gardens and was found in Centennial Park, and Edmond thought “I’ll find the 14 stations of the Cross, I’ll do that walk as often as I need to and I’ll spend the night in the park.” And he did all those things.

This thread of responding to artists has always run through Edmond’s writing, although he found the prospect of having to paint a picture terrifying as a small child. His first  published writings were art reviews, informed by his readings in art history at Wellington Public Library.

This session wins the award so far for most mention of libraries, not that I’m counting (much). In his early days as an aspiring writer Edmond didn’t actually do much writing, he just hung around in libraries and did ‘background reading’.

Edmond’s writing has a convincing and natural voice, so how does he prepare? Not by keeping a diary, but he does practice memory skills. All middle-aged people in the audience were instantly impressed and one at least resolved to ask him for some tips should the opportunity arise. Then she forgot to do it.

I had a Meryl Streep in The deerhunter moment when reading Eleanor Catton‘s first novel  The rehearsal so I was really looking foward t hearing her speak about it, and to hearing from the other emerging stars of New Zealand fiction (no pressure).

Icelandic scholar Bill Manhire (thanks to Janet Frame I now know that about Mr. Manhire) was a strict taskmaster. It was all very organised -  writers alphabetical by first name, eight minutes to read and then to answer questions about their work, given time to think about a book they had been consumed by to be named at the end.

Anna Taylor was described in the programme as a ‘consummate performer’, a description she confessed left her a bit unsure of what to do but she read well from her collection Relief.  The collection explores people who find themselves in life situations where they are lost. Frank O’Connor said in The lonely voice that short stories deal with alienation and disappointment and this story did share those characteristics but it certainly made me want to read more.

Like the short story writers yesterday these young women were all  concerned with getting the voice right, although Catton confesed that the more time she spends thinking about the voice the less she knows about it.  Only Taylor’s preferences for form echoed yesterday’s panel. She loves to write short stories because she loves to read them, while van der Zijpp always wanted to do a novel.  Catton hardly ever reads short stories, she “adores novels” becsuse the reader can form a relationship with the novel in which they can forgive the novel its faults. She doesn’t do this with short stories.

Bridget van der Zijpp‘s first novel Misconduct won the Commonwealth Writers’ Prize for Best First Book (South East Asia and Pacific region). It’s about a woman driven to do an impulsive deed and the subject matter saw reviewers bandying the term chick lit about before running away from it, as in “with this subject matter this could be chick lit but it’s not”. Reviewers weren’t the only ones bemused by the subject of revenge; when van der Zijpp told people at parties women wanted to share their stories of revenge while men asked if it was autobiographical.

The rehearsal will be published by Granta in the U.K. and will also be published in the U.S. Catton confessed to feeling like what had happened after New Zealand had happened to the book, not to her. She is determinedly not thinking about the marketing campaign.

The observation in The rehearsal is so acute I asked Catton earlier in the festival if she had spent her entire high school years observing the way teenagers speak and behave. The  answer was no but she did confess in this session that her mum sometimes pleads with her “please don’t write that down”.

Bill Manhire continued the pleasing festival tradition of asking the writers to name a book everybody in the room should read.

Eleanor Catton – The watchmen – Alan Moore

Bridget van der Zijpp – The Believers – Zoe Helle

Anna Taylor – William Trevor, Alice Munro, T.C. Boyle (Emily Perkins is also a fan of Boyle’s)

Manhire’s pick was Robert Bolano - 26 66.

I am not overly familiar with the work of Greg McGee, nor that of Sam Mahon but I was intrigued by the description in the Auckland Writers and Readers Festival programme of them as “the odd men out in our national literature”. I suppose it is difficult to categorise a rugby player/lawyer turned playwright, and later screenwriter (McGee) and a painter/sculptor/biographer/environmentalist (Mahon). It turns out this descriptive phrase was only used by festival organiser Jill Rawnsley because McGee refused to be saddled with the label “Rennaissance Man”. Really Mr McGee if the rugby boot fits…

Superficially McGee and Mahon (which, as a combo, has a ring to it should they ever consider starting a legal practice together) seem perhaps an unlikely pairing for a literary talk but as soon as McGee started his reading it all clicked into place. He read from a chapter of his memoirs Tall tales (some true) that dealt with television drama Erebus: The aftermath, the script of which he adapted from the book Verdict on Erebus by Justice Peter Mahon, father of…Sam Mahon. Probably everyone else in the room had made that connection already but the penny only dropped for me at that point. The part that McGee chose to read expressed his disappointment in New Zealand, which he reflected, has a dark side that takes delight in targeting those that stick their heads “above the dull parapet of convention” and challenge the powers that be, the unfortunate victims being people like Peter Mahon (he of the eminently quotable  “orchestrated litany of lies”).

Sam Mahon’s choice of reading material couldn’t have been more different. He read from the first few pages of the opening chapter of a new manuscript, the chapter entitled “funeral”. I considered this quite a treat (like getting to see a new baby before other friends and family members). Mahon prefaced his reading by explaining that he is a non-fiction writer even when exploring fiction saying, “although it’s not the truth, it’s actual. Yeah?”

Of course I had no idea what he meant by that. It became clear some way into the chapter. I had just been enjoying the lyrical delights of descriptions such as “his adam’s apple struggled like a mouse in a sock”, when said character declared “Rod Donald died”. And again a penny dropped, and the “actual”, and indeed the funeral of the chapter title made more sense. Joyce mentioned in Friday’s audio wrap-up that Tash Aw’s lyrical descriptions were lovely but forgettable and left her cold but Mahon’s definitely carried emotional weight and maybe I am just projecting but I got the sense that Mahon himself was quite moved as he read. Certainly I found it poignant and touching.

And then things completely shifted gear as McGee, Mahon and Geary got into the conversational side of things. Though Geary was meant to be directing the questions at the two Mr “M”s the rapport all three shared made it a much less formal affair. They would quip, quote each other and answer each other’s questions and it wasn’t too much of a stretch, if you squinted your eyes, to imagine that you were eavesdropping on three friends solving the problems of the world from the comfort of a leather armchair over a pint at the pub.

The conversation ranged far and wide. They discussed the process of writing, Mahon having once said that it is “sometimes like a glandular secretion”. On using real people as templates for characters McGee reflected that “most people that you write about fictionally don’t recognise themselves” and seemed quite pleased of the fact. They talked about politics (is the honeymoon over for John Key as the super-city rears its large and not pretty head?) and television (Boston Legal, Outrageous Fortune, and Deadwood all getting the thumbs up from McGee) and how to make water sexy (0r at the very least more interesting).

By far the most impassioned topic for Mahon was what he considers the lack of public consultation with regards to public art in Christchurch. He feels quite strongly that decisions on what sort of art graces our public places should not be determined by a select few, that there should be a more democratic process that allows for input from the people and artists of the city rather than “academics”.

In response to a question from a rather familiar looking audience member named Richard, Mahon also confessed that he is “not online” (a quality that he apparently shares with Robert Fisk), and so he has to go to libraries to do research for his books whereas McGee pointed out that to be any kind of writer you must first be a reader and that libraries give him the ability to catch up on all the books that he wants to read, there being so many on his list that he couldn’t possibly buy them all…though he was quick to point out that his own book is very reasonably priced.

And that’s just the merest nibble out of the corner of the unexpectedly delicious biscuit that this session turned out to be. I hadn’t known particularly what to expect from this hour with the odd men out of New Zealand literature but I left wishing they could have carried on talking for another hour, or more.

Best First Book: Mohammad Hanif - A case of exploding mangoes.

Hanif paid thanks to Jill Rawnsley, festival director. Hanif said his son even stopped playing PSP for a minute!

Dedicated award to Dept of Immigration and Customs – he was delayed by them for two hours. Apparently they wouldn’t let his son (or someone in the group) go to the toilet.

He ended his speech by saying: Thank you very much I’ll now go and pee!

Best Book: Christos Tsiolkas The Slap.

He said: Great pride to be in the company of other fantastic and brilliant writers and comrades and generous people. There is no competition in art. I can’t believe I’m gonna meet the Queen and my mum said I have to ask for the Parthenon marbles back.

Vanda Symon is our guest on the wrap up tonight – to be recorded at the Aotea Centre.

How did a bunch of middle-class activists end up in a web of international terror and murder?

Stefan Aust has spent his career finding out, saying it was a once in a lifetime case of a “story looking for an author”. The Baader Meinhoff complex examines in gripping detail the lives of a group of German revolutionaries known as the Red Army Faction (RAF). They began as protesters against war and the state in the sixties and ended up committing arson, bombings, murders and kidnappings. In prison they went on hunger strikes, and won sympathy when the authorities force fed them.

Some of the of the group died in prison – there were questions over whether it was murder or suicides? Two had shot themselves, one had hung herself – but even though they were closely guarded, no-one heard the shots or found them until the following morning.

At his festival session with Mark Sainsbury, Aust decribed this chapter of German history as “the most interesting and dramatic time after the Second World War”.

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One of the great things about festivals is the range of styles you encounter – the variations of eloquences, as an astute audience member described it on the opening night. I have yet to meet Sonya Renee, but here is an interview we did by email – I hope to catch up with her tomorrow in person. Listen to some performances online.

The poetry slam has reinvigorated poetry. What’s more appealing to you – the passion and energy of the performance moment or the well-crafted, considered printed version?

I am in love with both. I am mesmerized by the beauty and craft of language and gifted poetry. I am equally in love with the expression on the face of a person as they experience being moved by a poem and performance. Nothing brings me more joy than watching a talented poet and perform bring a piece to life. Nothing is more painful than having to watch a terribly written poem on stage.

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Who could resist a session with a name like this? After Richard Dawkins provoked a breakfast discussion that involved some food but little love, and which made me wish for wine and travel, I’m going the Rachael King way. I saw her in the foyer of the Aotea Centre and she said she’s strictly fiction, which has a nice ring to it.

Sarah-Kate Lynch and Nicky Pellegrino sparked off each other really well and were similar in many ways. They have both been editors of the New Zealand Woman’s Weekly, they both write popular women’s fiction and reviews and they are both very funny but it’s the meticulous versus the organic as far as approaches to their work goes.

Lynch has to have quiet and the right chair, Pellegrino writes in an annex to her dining room known as the dining hovel with her husband watching motor sport a mere arm’s length away.

When Jim did the total spoiler and revealed the ending of On top of everything about a third of the way through the session Sarah was off – he is never going to be allowed to forget this.

What does it say about the New Zealand psyche that this book has done the best here and provoked a huge response from readers but overseas publishers won’t publish it because they don’t like the ending? I don’t know but it could be that whole cinema of unease, Man alone, big dark streak through our literature thing. Except the Dutch are going to publish it, bless their dark little hearts.

Lynch is undismayed though, saying that if you think too much about what other people think and want “you can really bugger it up”.

Joyce and I have both mentioned Richard Dawkins and his fantastic session last night. I wanted to add a post script.

The experience was made possible by the massive KAREN network, whose members include libraries, universities, research institutions and schools. KAREN connects to the JANET network in the UK.

The Dawkins presentation was high-definition video over the internet, and it never missed a beat. The size of the internet pipe? 2 Gigabits / second, Paul Reynolds tells me. With technology like that what wonderful discussions we can have – and it could have been a worldwide broadcast – if someone was prepared to stump up for the bandwith…

Wouldn’t it be great to have a broadcast event at the next Christchurch Writers festival??

Auckland’s festival has attracted a lot of people – venues have been full. According to publicist Angela Radford, ticket sales are up close to 50 percent, which does not include the 6000 seats they filled for the schools part od the programme earlier in the week. That’s a very impressive effort. Great crowd for the Sam Mahon and Greg McGee session and a long queue at Christos Tsiolkas’s book signing.

I also had a very genial chat with TVNZ’s Peter Williams – his wife is on the festival board. He was enjoying the non-fiction and especially the New Yorker writers. It’s one thing thing to mingle with the celebs, but everybody at the festival has been cheerful and happy to talk to us, and genuinely interested in what we are doing. And speaking of doing, time for me to get writing. Keep sending your comments through!

Passageways with Ann Thwaite and Joanna Woods chaired by Hamish Keith

My goodness that Hamish Keith gets about! He seems to be a constant on the New Zealand literary festival circuit and I think I know why, famous though he is for courting controversy, today with wonderful wit and charm he facilitated an interesting and generous conversation between biographers Anne Thwaite and Joanna Woods.

Hamish started the ball rolling by sharing the idea of the travelling gene; that everyone however long they’ve been in New Zealand has come from somewhere else. He also mooted the idea that early migrants to New Zealand rather than flying the flag for Great Britain were keen to establish an identity for their new home as something separate and other. He added that by the 1930’s and 40’s England had become re-established as home, reinforced through the education system and government, and that many New Zealanders  had a “fantasy past and uncertain present”. This fantasy past being created both Joanna Woods and Hamish Keith felt by nationalist writers of the period like Curnow and Fairburn, men with a vested interest in bashing the cultural achievements of the past.

Joanna Woods, author of Facing the music a biography of Charles Baeyertz, spoke compellingly about New Zealand’s vibrant cultural and literary scene during the late nineteenth and early twentieth century. She cited a galaxy of international stars that performed in New Zealand and a host of homegrown talent that enlivened the lives of early New Zealanders. Baeyertz founded The Triad a cultural magazine which stayed in print for over 50 years and provided her with a rich source of information about New Zealand’s early cultural creations.

Ann Thwaite winner of the Whitbread Prize for Best Biography in 1990 shared her recently published family history Passageways.  She said it took her 40 years after his death before she could face opening the suitcases containing her Father’s papers and acknowledged that delving into the past was not always a joyful process and that “a photograph could be too sad to frame”. She talked about the joy of getting to know her parents as young people through their letters and diaries and read a charming passage from her Mother’s notebook detailing the appropraite behaviours that a young lady should model.

While the authors themselves seemed to find some difficulty in aligning their particular publications with the programme’s uniting theme of migration this was nonetheless an interesting session tackling in somewhat plummy tones issues of identity and culture.