Books

It’s not often I need a dictionary on hand when writing a review, but I did in the case of The Artist. The dictionary is a Māori-English one, and my knowledge of te reo has increased markedly due to a perusal of Ruby Solly’s verse novel.

It’s a work of fiction, explains the author, and it’s based on the history of the iwi who have shaped her being. Indeed, the word “being” is central to this work, occurring in evocative phrases like “A world is sung into being” at the outset.

The natural world is incorporated here, with rivers, sand, and wind as much characters in the story as humans. The artist of the title emerges as a kind of painter of dreams, somehow connected to “the ache of potential”, another recurring theme.

Predictably perhaps, the advent of Pākehā into the Māori world provokes such stark images as “There is talk of stolen stone / of moko slipping from the face” and “we possess a pile of kūmara / as well as a pile of bodies”.

The story really gets under way when Hana (a Southern woman) meets Matiu (a Southern man). Hana’s subsequent pregnancy and experience of childbirth are dramatically described, and twins are born. But the family, relegated to the back of the pa, fail to gain acceptance from their own people and must forge their own fates.

The second half of this verse novel continues the story with the natural world and that of the dreams, ambitions, and experiences of the characters firmly intertwined. In Carving, Matiu the father introduces stones to Reremai his son. “Reremai cradles the stone – a field of potential, with the form of a wāhine swirling towards them”. And the artist’s signature appears again in Discovery, in the form of a fresh moko on Kiki’s skin.

Reading The Artist resembles walking through a forest: dreaming, wondering, sometimes suffering, touching, and being touched. Its writing is a tribute to its author just as much as to the iwi she celebrates.

What’s your idea of a calamity? “An event causing great damage or distress”, the dictionary says. For Jane Arthur, who has titled her poetry collection thus, a calamity might amount to anything from an anticipated apocalypse, to posing philosophical questions like “Do we live only to the limits of our comprehension?”, to a meditation on dead flies.

Such a range allows the sometimes startling, sometimes amusing observations, reflections, and imaginings that preoccupy the writer. How, All Right begins with “I want to get morbid I want to get morbid” and concludes with “Now, knowing the more one learns, the worse one feels!” That seems to me a self-fulfilling prophecy: how you begin is how you might end.

I’m much more at home with the concreteness and immediacy of Princes and Priests. “The celebrities are having mental / health breakdowns and people / are lining up for tickets.” Ring any bells?

The section titled The Bear – sandwiched between Risk Assessment and Highly Flammable – provides welcome relief from the writer’s existential anxieties. She has chosen the pronouns “they” and “them” to refer to the bear, and I find myself wondering if the animal kingdom is as much concerned about this matter as we humans. In the meantime, I’ll have to grin and bear it.

The lengthiest poem, and my favourite, is Choose Again, in which Arthur liberally employs the poet’s most useful literary device – metaphor – to make her point. The poem is a contemplation on shame – of its causes and effects. Likening shame to “an ulcer on the inside / of your cheek / that you nibble on sometimes” is uncomfortably effective, as is “I am a bird / sticking my beak between / the bars of my cage to see if the air / is purer on the outside.”

Her final poem Imaginary Den summarises the theme of this disturbingly prophetic collection with a plea: “Let me dig my little hole. Let me / settle down into it, feigning safety, let me.”

I had a mother, but I’ve never been one. How does that place me to comment on a poetry collection of this nature? Writer Louise Wallace is asking a question too – about the real nature of pregnancy and motherhood. She’s knocking on a forbidden door perhaps, because we women are supposed to live our lives as if it’s our biological fate to reproduce ourselves.

Pregnancy is biological all right and this aspect of it gets full treatment. “You now contain ten / little-finger-like projections”, you’re “being beaten around the ears with the need for leafy greens”, and confronted by “what does the term ‘women’s clothing’ even mean?”

The psychological and social aspects of being pregnant also come under fire. What about baby names? Some couples do a video, and in sexy springtime feelings, “at twenty five you were special – born for a social calendar / but now you’ve got a face made for furniture.”

I’m not sure how delaying tactics fits into the pregnancy picture with its questions such as “how do you get a book deal?” and “what’s the ideal age to try stripping?” unless it’s a disguised longing for a life without a pregnancy in sight. Indeed, these poems are hardly a recommendation for it.

And we haven’t even got to childbirth! Wallace does not hesitate to expose us to the painful and at times grotesque experiences it may bring. Doctors, midwives, and other professionals become part of the scene with their discussions and instructions. But then there is a sign – finally – that all may be well, captured thus: “you’ll experience a new and phenomenal relationship / with your vagina”.

Does that make up for everything you had to undergo to achieve motherhood? I can only hope so. The search for baby names is referenced in one of the concluding poems, suggesting a resolution, as does the final metaphor.

This is a story about your mother makes for salutary reading. Those considering getting pregnant would be well advised to read it.

Here’s a fish – this is what it looks like, this is what it eats, and this is who eats it. That’s how I thought Secrets of the Sea would go. Surprisingly I found something much more interesting: an almost mini encyclopaedia of the wondrous creatures of the sea, intricately entwined with the history of Aotearoa.

Author Robert Vennell unravels the hidden lives of a vast array of creatures that lie beneath our magnificent waters, from the depths of the ocean to our rivers and sandy shores, giving insight into their biology, etymology, unique characteristics, and cultural significance and importance to Māori. Steeped in history and tradition, Secrets of the Sea is a standout. It’s an evolutionary tale that speaks to the way these unique creatures have had a profound impact on our lives on land despite being largely hidden and sometimes forgotten.

Vennell’s fascinating glimpse into the history of the butterfish reveals they were often linked with nocturnal mischief, just as the whakataukī reads: Ka pō, ka pō, ka kai te rarī (When it is night, the butterfish feed). For Māori, there was a feeling that butterfish or rarī were troublemakers.

Eels or tuna on the other hand were considered by Māori to be one of the single most important food sources found in Aotearoa. On a recent camping trip, I found myself helping to navigate the feeding of eels. Swarming around all slippery, thick and serpent-like, the eels (what variety of, I do not know) took stock of the food, snaking around each other en masse. I was surprised to read that New Zealand longfin eels can grow to be the largest in the world, weighing more than a small child, and can live up to 100 years, effectively giving the humble turtle a run for its money in the longevity stakes.

Gorgeously illustrated, and with stunning photography, Secrets of the Sea is a resplendent unravelling of the mysteries surrounding some of the incredible inhabitants of Aotearoa waters.

Empire City is the most impressive book I think I have ever experienced, and honestly I did not think that I’d be as blown away by it as I was. Everything about it screams pure class, from the handmade drawings to the fold-out maps that show you what Wellington looked like in the mid-19th century.

Every legend started somewhere, and in the case of Wellington, it was with Indigenous Māori and the New Zealand Company (an organisation to help settle the country) first meeting each other. It also tells us about Edward Gibbon Wakefield, whose vison helped settle what we now call Wellington – or Britannia as the then-new settlement was briefly called. Back then there were plenty of dangers to contend with: misunderstandings between Pākehā and local iwi could turn violent, earthquakes, and a lack of supplies made creating a permanent settlement difficult.

It was an amazing read that made me appreciate New Zealand all the more. In fact, I would dare anyone born here to not be impressed by the enormity of what our forefathers went through. It’s not hyperbolic to say that the people living today, including me, really are standing on the backs of giants. We talk about our Kiwi ingenuity all the time – well, now I know where it comes from.

Empire City is a very expansive book that goes into a huge amount of detail and unfortunately, I think that might be its downfall. It’s just so big. That may put some people off reading it, as it will be a bit of an investment of their time. It’s also a niche book, focusing on one specific area at one specific time, so unless you are mad crazy about New Zealand history, this may not appeal to you. 

I suspect that this book is geared toward a particular reader, one who will really get a kick out of reading about this country’s founding. If you are that person I can recommend this wholeheartedly.

One author that I have had the pleasure of reading in recent memory is New Zealand novelist Catherine Chidgey. Her writing style captures the imagination like no one else and really gets the emotive juices flowing. One minute her stories make you cry, and the next you’ll find a little smile sneaking its way onto your face. I felt this way about her last novel Remote Sympathy, and while the story did break my heart, there were also moments of joy sprinkled in.

The Axeman’s Carnival is no exception. This time the protagonist is a young magpie named Tamagotchi (named after the toy from the 80s), or Tama for short. Saved by humans at a young age, Tama finds himself struggling to find his place in a human world.

While he’s undoubtably the star of the show, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention his human parents: Marnie who initially rescued him, and her farmer husband Rob, the titular axeman whose farm is in a precarious situation. While Tama is the window through which readers see the world, and he is the source of much of the book’s humour, it’s Marnie and Rob who provide the tension and keep the plot moving forward.

Tama makes the most refreshing hero I have come across yet. He makes innocent observations about everyday human life – details that seem mundane to us but come across to him as unfamiliar and strange. This adds a real breath of fresh air to the classic fish-out-of-water plotline. His distant relationships with other magpies, especially his original father, create an interesting dynamic where it’s hammered home how alien he now appears to his birth family. I loved this complexity as well as the bird’s unique take on humanity.

There really are no downsides here. It all gels together, there’s no filler or fluff; everything works and comes together to create an incredible read. If you can get a hold of The Axeman’s Carnival,
get it.

With a unique style that is somewhat quaint but spot on, and illustrations that are twee and childlike, yet charmingly endearing, Be Your Best Self covers 10 life-changing ideas to reach your full potential. Be Your Best Self – not your sticky self, your worrying self, or your mind-reading self, but your best self, author Rebekah Ballagh says.

If you’re wondering about the sticky self, I’m referring to sticky thinking. In Be Your Best Self, Ballagh describes the times our minds are most vulnerable to negative thinking. Think hormones, lack of sleep, or a body that’s coffee or alcohol addled.

The author gives limiting behaviours and habits an almost human-like quality of their own – like mind reading, which feels like the anti-hero of constructive thinking. Mind reading is where you decide what others are thinking and it’s the type of quasi-skill that gets us into all sorts of trouble. Ballagh says whenever you find yourself mind reading, “call it out” for what it is. “Oh, I’m mind reading here!” A way to test the validity of unhelpful thoughts instead is to perhaps ask someone if they are irritated by you, instead of deciding they are.

Ballagh talks about creating a life map to pinpoint the origins of our limiting core beliefs, and how negative thoughts about ourselves and our pasts can perpetuate a cycle of such beliefs. Drilling down to the very heart of a core belief can be confronting. Again, she says, call out the belief at play. Question its authority and veracity. “It is not true and it no longer serves me”.

Setting boundaries is actually a form of self-care, Ballagh says. A favourite from the chapter Protect Your Energy: a yes is also a no. Remember, when you say yes to someone else, you are likely saying no to yourself.

Each chapter concludes with a little summary, a succinct reinforcement of the ideas within, with extra little nuggets and reminders to help you Be Your Best Self.

From stories that will shock you to ones that will make you smile and laugh, Te Kaihau: The Windeater from Keri Hulme covers it all. Originally released at the first New Zealand Arts Festival in 1986, it’s a collection of stories you’re sure to remember long after you have put the book down.

While the stories may be small in stature – one at only eight pages long – they more than make up for it with their wealth of suspense and their sometimes-macabre tone. One example that comes to mind is the story of a family that finds themselves staying in a seemingly uninhabited little town, with things going downhill from there. In others, Hulme takes the ordinary and weaves it into something somehow alluring. My favourite has to be One Whale, Singing, which is partly told from a whale’s point of view and asks if animals have genuine intelligence.

What makes this book so special is that from the title page, each story seems to have its own style and prose. I loved that and to me it felt like Hulme’s imaginative toolkit was inexhaustible. They really are amazing stories that kept me wholly invested, with full credit to the author for hooking me in and refusing to let go.

While each story may take a while to get going, the payoff is well worth it. Unfortunately, therein lies the problem: they are slow to start and anyone lacking patience may give up before giving them a chance to really get going. I would recommend that anyone interested in a good book with a wonderful ambience persevere.

If you are a fan of good writing and love your atmospheric books, then Te Kaihau: The Windeater is for you. While I cannot guarantee that all of the stories will be to your liking, I am willing to bet that there’s something in there for everyone, if only they would give it a go.

In The Key to Unlocking Your Potential, author Brett Ashley takes us on a journey from his somewhat dysfunctional early life to the life of being a successful businessman.

With a heartening conversational tone, there’s much to take from what Ashley has learned over his four decades with the Woolworths NZ Ltd Group. Namely, it’s the merits of thinking strategically, having a number 8 wire mentality, and possessing the tenacity to dive headfirst into something while simultaneously being prepared to pivot and swivel to other opportunities, when necessary, that shines through.

There’s a raw yarn-like sense to the narrative, almost like you can imagine sitting down with Ashley as he espouses his life story. There’s the successful career, the love of his life, and the leadership lessons in between: surviving in the corporate world, creating structures that harness job satisfaction for himself and those around him, and leading strategically to maximise potential. His is an eyes-wide-open approach to seeing opportunities and grabbing them. He talks about making the most of your time at work every day and creating structures and processes where everyone can thrive.

Ashley believes the biggest challenge you will ever encounter as a leader is establishing who the right people are to have around you. As a business leader, he says, it’s of utmost importance to consistently review who’s right for the team. To me, it all makes sense; when you create the right environment with the right people, there will be more opportunities for success.

What is a constant throughout The Key to Unlocking Your Potential is that anyone has the ability to be a leader, which in itself is encouraging. Ashley acknowledges that though the environments we are exposed to in our childhoods help shape who we are, we are ultimately the deciders of our own journey.

“Leaders are created, not born”, Ashley says.

For all those aspiring leaders out there, Ashley gives a great worldview from someone who has been there, done that, and certainly walked the talk.

The stories that compose this volume were written 50 years ago. Does writer Ian Wedde tell us this by way of apology or explanation? That maybe depends on what the reader makes of the characters and situations he depicts.

The ones in his lengthy, eponymously titled first story may be difficult to sympathise with, and their hazy, drug-induced states are reflected by the writer’s style.

And that may be why I infinitely preferred the nine far shorter tales that follow. They present everyday situations requiring immediacy of action; sentences are shorter and therefore have greater impact; consequences are easier to grasp.

In Clover features an endangered baby in a porch swing. The reactions of husband and wife, and the contrast between those reactions – he sternly practical but infuriatingly inattentive; she dreamy and philosophical – provide the interest, and a concluding wry observation on marriage will evoke sighs of recognition. “I love you,” she said, “God knows why, you’re such an idiot.”

Paradise – though I’m unsure why so titled given its content – gives us an old-fashioned postman dealing with rough weather, blurred envelope addresses, and troublesome corgis. There’s an intriguing reference to Oates of the Antarctic: “Gone out, and been some time, but not been missed.” A comment on the soon-to-disappear job of the postman?

Then our man needs a leak. He’s in his favourite spot for one when he is rudely interrupted. “The last lady hadn’t been Chinese, and she hadn’t come to the gate” captures the tone of this tale, and that, plus the postman’s imagined future as a poet, are enough to draw our sympathetic laughter.

The Gringos takes the cake for nostalgic indulgence. The Gringos are a rock and roll band of the 1950s – albeit fictional. Their outfits are preserved in tissue and polythene. But hey – Chuck Berry is coming to town! The Gringos are dazedly ecstatic. Their witnessing of old-style rock and roll is both moving and funny. Of course, you had to be there.

For a lot of adult New Zealanders living and working in the 1980s, Jim Anderton might conjure up a number of different opinions. For some, he was a fighter who advocated for the less well-off, opposing Roger Douglas and his sale of state assets coined ‘Rogernomics’. Others felt he was a grandstander who used his natural charisma and boisterous nature to grab headlines while in parliament. Whatever your views, we can all agree that he was a particular breed of politician – one we may never see again.

Anderton: His Life and Times tells the story of both his triumphs and the roadblocks he faced while a member of the Labour, New Labour, Alliance, and lastly the Progressive Coalition parties. These include the formation of the locally owned Kiwibank, the friendships and enemies he made along the way, and his unshakeable faith that there had to be a better way forward for our small country.

I believe that you can tell a good memoir, biography, or autobiography by the lessons you learn from it. Well I can tell you that I learned a tonne from Anderton; his good-hearted stubbornness, unwavering loyalty, and determination to get things done for the electorate of what was then called Sydenham (now Wigram) showed that good things could be achieved through hard work.

I absolutely loved this book, and think that author David Grant has done an amazing job of capturing the man that Jim Anderton was. His refusal to quit on things he believed in, his love for the people he represented, and his aforementioned loyalty – that at times I felt was his own downfall (no spoilers here).

If I was pushed to find a negative, it would be that the nature of politics simply is not for everyone, and not everyone will pick up this book and appreciate like I have. It really was an amazing read, and after putting it down I found myself with a new appreciation for the man, and what he had done for me.

All too often, being in the spotlight – whether it be a presentation, a Zoom meeting, or any other form of being on show – is an opportunity for the loudest, boldest, and most confident voice in the room to take centre stage; an arena for those whose very existence relies on getting ample airtime. Step into the Spotlight author Russell Pickering suggests that the quiet, competent, considered, and thoughtful among us also have great value, and should be encouraged and offered opportunities to show up and present too. “Don’t wait, we need you now, step out into the spotlight and shine,” he says.

In Step into the Spotlight, he shows you how. In his chapter on courage, Pickering shares a definition of anxiety from a psychologist friend. “Anxiety comes from an over-estimation of a problem or issue, coupled with an under-estimation of your ability to deal with it, or cope with it.” Don’t obsess over trying to be confident when you have to give a presentation; your job is to get your audience to have confidence in you and your ideas, Pickering says, and besides, “courage trumps confidence”.

Step into the Spotlight is a simple yet structured guide to presenting. Looking outwards is key; it’s not about you, it’s about your audience and what they may find engaging. Consider what your audience already knows about your topic, which will allow you to hone your presentation and visual aids accordingly. Gauge how your audience feels throughout your presentation. For instance, do they need a break? Pickering acknowledges the challenges of presenting, but offers practical advice to master these. He walks you through the characteristics of the three spotlight archetypes: The Analyser, The Storyteller, and The Inspirer.

In conclusion, if I ever have to give that all-important presentation to a bunch of people I do or don’t know, Pickering’s Step into the Spotlight will be the first thing I reach for.

The premise: trust your work, connect with your audience, and deliver.