Here's the latest review from our guest reviewer, Louise Wareham – The Colour of Distance edited by Jenny Bornholdt and Gregory O'Brien, VUP, $34.95:

For those interested in France, in Europe or in art and literature, this is the perfect Christmas book: a lovely large well-produced anthology from Victoria University Press with photographs, illustrations, poems, interviews, letters and even a stunning late interview by French writer Nadine Ribault with Janet Frame. It purports to celebrate the anniversary of 60 years of Franco–New Zealand relations.

Many of its New Zealand contributors traveled to France under the auspices of the Katherine Mansfield fellowship, which has taken one New Zealander to Menton each year since 1970. It is a hit list of many well known New Zealand writers. At the same time, it draws on the traveler such as Baxter, the soldier M.K. Joseph, and French writers who have come more recently to Wellington under the Randell
Cottage Creative New Zealand writers Residency.

The best pieces have to be those written by people who have stayed in France for more than a four month fellowship: C.K. Stead, for example, whose poems do not just picture France but embody it. Then again, Nigel Cox's When I was a Writer paints the most human and funny portrait of being a foreigner alone in a strange place. His tale of trying to have the water in his toilet restored to running order (and his discovery of a dead and tragic lizard in his mailbox) is more evocative than lyrical poems about the sky and sea.

Bill Manhire's closing poem, written from his residency last year, ends with a word as powerful and delicious as you can get, especially with its rightful and almost edible graphics.

The writings of the French visiting New Zealand are sometimes truly great, especially those of Charles Juliet who was here in 2003-2004. His perception of us makes us wonder at our perception of the French:

New Zealanders, I was told, have an identity problem. Their country is a young one, only recently established. In addition, they suffer from their isolation, their distance from Europe, and from the countries of their ancestors – Scotland, Ireland, England. Sometimes, on some maps, their country is missing, and that's not at all appreciated. The suicide rate is high amongst young people.

In all, this is a collection that achieves what great anthologies can: to open up a world to a reader, or to open windows onto new worlds and visions, to tease and to titillate. Bornholt and O'Brien have been thorough and dedicated. Their own devotion to the subject shines through. These are snapshots, but even snapshots (as the artist now knows – think Gerhard Richter) can make up something with a cohesive inviting power of its own. Snap one up before they sell out and you won't have one.