From the Big Bang to God–book review

From the Big Bang to God, by Lloyd Geering

Not the usual sort of book I would pick up, but I have a wonderful book club who extend me, and this is a case in point. Loved the big issues like evolution and the start of everything and where did life come from and all that. Good choice for a book club as a discussion sparker. So, did Lloyd Geering come up with any answers?

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The Ministry of Time – book review

The Ministry of Time, by Kaliane Bradley

Yes, it’s only June, but The Ministry of Time by Kaliane Bradley gets my book of the year so far. It’ll be a hard one to beat. Great premise, excellent characters and the hottest sex I’ve read in years. The chap in question has been dragged out of 1845 into the near future, complete with fabulous side-whiskers, a cheeky dimple, and Victorian social attitudes. Our narrator likes his nose. He had a kind of resplendent excess of feature that made him look hyperreal. She is to be his bridge.

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Ōkiwi Brown

Ōkiwi Brown, by Cristina Sanders

*Currently on the Longlist for the Ngaio Awards!*
The Burke and Hare anatomy murders terrified Edinburgh in the 1830s – innocents smothered and packed fresh for the anatomist’s knife. Burke was publicly hanged before a crowd of thousands. William Hare, after turning king’s evidence against his erstwhile partner, was released. Somewhere south of Dumfries near the small river port of Annan, he was set down from a cart and told to walk on to England and never return. There, he disappears from history.

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The Girl From London – book review

The Girl From London, by Olivia Spooner

I started this on a Tuesday night and ended up crying in a café on Thursday morning. I can’t remember when I’ve been so moved by the ending of a story. There is a book within the book. When the former ended a bit too neatly I was a slightly disbelieving, until I realised that actually, well, I’m giving no spoilers, but it’s a war story, after all. I’m not usually known for my tears.

The whole story ties in well with my current interest in stories of those who immigrated to New Zealand down the years, and why they came. Children evacuees from London bombings? I had no idea. Can you imagine sending your children out of a bomb zone, and not to the close countryside, which would be wrenching enough, but through a war-infested sea to an unknown land at the far ends of the earth? And yet people did.

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My Friends – book review

My Friends, by Hisham Matar

Any book that offers a description of a face ‘like a landscape liable to bad weather‘ has got my love. This is a writer with poetry in his soul. ‘We shared the city the way honest labourers share tools,’ he says of two young men finding their way around London. He describes a nurse who ‘would gently tuck in my bedsheet like a skilled cook filleting a fish.’ This is classy writing.

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The Covenant of Water – book review

The Covenant of Water, by Abraham Verghese

“Fiction is the great lie that tells the truth about how the world lives!” says a character in the The Covenant of Water. That’s an oldie but a goodie and is perhaps is an apt quote for this book. I’ve never been to India. But with Verghese’s story it felt as though I visited every evening, in that witching hour before sleep, when a book takes me somewhere else. Reading Verghese, as I experienced before with his first novel, Cutting for Stone, is an immersive experience.

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The Fraud – book review

The Fraud, by Zadie Smith

The Fraud is an ambitious book, not one to take lightly. It encompasses the true story of an identity fraud trial in the 1800s, where a man returning from the colonies supposes to be not an East End butcher, but the lost son of a wealthy family. The family say he isn’t. Others, including a loyal black servant and the masses, believe he is.

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Absolutely and Forever–book review

Absolutely and Forever, by Rose Tremain

This is a slim book about first love, and Rose Tremain is at her absolute pitch-perfect best. Oh! That aching yearning of waiting for a boy and the need to know everything about him and be with him all the time. Marianne, at fifteen, has fallen in love with Simon. Her mother says: ‘Nobody falls in love at your age, Marianne. What they get are “crushes” on people’. But her mother could not be more wrong. I can’t think of any better description of love than Marianne’s: the narcissism and obsession, the fear and frenzy of it. She’s fizzing with love.

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English Passengers – book review

English Passengers, by Matthew Kneale

This novel, like most colonial fiction stories told in the last 25 years, looks back at history and describes why the English should feel abhorrence and shame. I found the story interesting – the premise of a group of miss-matched individuals on a voyage to Tasmania and back is a good hook for me – but there was something here I found a bit off, and I’m trying to put my finger on it. I think, to me, it seemed the author, for all he researched events and geography well, was an outsider. He wasn’t wholly present in the period or the location. Perhaps we have woken up since it was published in 2000. I hesitate to use the word ‘flippant’ but it did feel the purpose of the story was to entertain us with the terrible things those crazy colonials did back in the day rather than explore something more nuanced: how these potentially good men could be so blind, perhaps; or what these psychologies meant to the people there, on the ground. The Aboriginal part of the story is told in first person by a boy whose mother is taken, chained and raped by an Englishman and the boy is blond. I’m not sure I trust Kneale’s telling of his voice and culture; I was always aware of the English pen behind the voice as I read, and I cringed, occasionally.

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This Other Eden – book review

This Other Eden, by Paul Harding

Such an interesting book, such a dive into the lives of people ostensibly at the very bottom of the pile. The story has its roots at the end of the 1700s, when Apple Island is settled by an escaped slave called Benjamin Honey, and his Irish wife. A hundred years later their descendants and a smattering of other (often a bit too closely) related families still shamble through their lives in this place. They’re a stone’s throw from the coast of Maine, close enough that they can forage on the mainland but, in the eyes of the mainlanders, who consider the islanders an inbred, mixed-race of starving, ignorant, degenerate squatters, they’re too close for comfort. The islanders are an amorphous blight, a problem in need of some kind of resolution. We learn that each islander is, of course, an individual, with different wants and needs and talents.

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