Many thanks to Maggie Rainey-Smith for contributing to LeafSalon in an article inspired by two recent literary events. The speakers were worlds apart in their opinions, but Maggie wonders whether there might be a middle ground. Maggie is the author of About Turn (Random House, 2005), and Turbulence (Random House, 2007).

I thought it would be interesting to compare Greg O’Brien’s Janet Frame Memorial Lecture which opened NZ Book Month on Sunday 31st August, and another event that I attended just the day before – a luncheon with Sophie Hamley, an Australian literary agent from the Cameron Cresswell Agency. Both were thought-provoking, and both were about the world of the writer.

Greg talked about the ‘laboratory’ versus the marketplace. His lecture was all about the idea that the art of writing and being a writer is separate from that of being a published author. He quoted Roland Barthes in saying ‘the author performs a function, the writer an activity’. To demonstrate the difference between writer and author, he used the example of Janet Frame choosing to not publish certain works during her lifetime - she was happy to be the writer rather than the author of those works (although one could argue, perhaps she knew they would be posthumously published? I’m intrigued by that idea, because it seems to me that being published and acknowledged as a writer was central to whom Janet Frame was).

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Henry Feltham is back with a thought-provoking muse (stroke chin here) about puritanism in NZ reviewing and writing, prompted by a copy of a venerable literary magazine which is, like so many others, now lost in the annals of history.

NZ's literary heritage is extraordinary - anyone who saw the Greg O'Brien and Jenny Bornholdt exhibition Main Trunk Lines in Wellington a couple of years ago will no doubt remember being staggered by the quality of early forays in the lit-mag direction by the likes of Charles Brasch and Denis Glover. Anyone who knows owt about the series that Henry owns bits of, please let us know - I've combed the web and found zip. Some constructive bookish commenting would be lovely! Go Henry:

I've had the first issue of Islands on my shelf for almost a year, and a copy of Dick Seddon's Great Dive – the issue devoted to Ian Wedde's novella – for longer than that. I love the solid, foundational feeling that comes from having them in my possession. In fact, there was a time when I had almost all of them, acquired in bulk from a thrift store in Whakatane. What happened to this treasure, I'm not sure, but at least three times in my life I've felt the need to cull my library, and I suppose the box of Islands back issues fell victim to this perceived overweightedness. The two issues which remain are a sort of forensic exemplar of their breed.

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In the words of the immortal Ronnie Barker ‘It’s been a funny old week’. Actually I think he always said ‘day’ but whatever. Doris Lessing is named as the Nobel Laureate, winning $1.6 million bleedin’ dollars at the age of 88 for goodness sake, her descendants will be delighted – and there is only one grumble. Harold Bloom, US literary critic, said the academy's decision was “pure political correctness”, and “although Ms Lessing at the beginning of her writing career had a few admirable qualities, I find her work for the past 15 years quite unreadable … fourth-rate science fiction.” Miaow! However, I’m afraid I agree, shock horror, although her early stuff I loved more than Harold did, I think.

And now Mister Pip has not won the Booker. I was one who dared to believe Lloyd could bring home the big one (or take it to Berlin, in fact), but Keri, your place in history is safe. However, as Geoff Walker says in his NZ Book Month blog, “Mister Pip is in many ways the real winner of the overall process. In a few weeks it has gone from 20 to 1 to 2 to 1 in the betting. None of the other novels have gone through such a transformation.” And hey, Lloyd still gets to meet the Queen, which, slag her off as you may, will probably be quite cool.

The winner of the Booker, Anne Enright’s The Gathering promises to be a jolly old read, bulging with angst, violence, poverty and alcoholism with bit of sexual abuse to round it out. She said it: “When people pick up a book they may want something happy that will cheer them up. In that case, they shouldn't really pick up my book”. D’you know – I won’t.

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We're about to go on holiday for about ten days (the Gold Coast - mostly for the kids, but maybe, with judicious use of a babysitter for a meal out or two, and a quiet day on a nice beach between theme parks, we might have a proper good time too! Can't wait to see those boingy dolphins though, not to mention the stacked up waterskiers at Sea World… and some of those slides at Wet'n'Wild look pretty good…).

Anyway, to get you all chatting during this hiatus, I thought I'd put up James Brown's angle on poetry, which I must confess I held back from NZ Book Month because… well, just because. So sack me! (Today's my last day as web editor for NZ Book Month, and I'd like to introduce the lovely Dee Murch as my replacement – Dee was a founding member of LeafSalon, so it's nice to keep it in the family.) I'm sure most of you will have an opinion on James' choices… bring it on. That's him on his bike on the right – he's a mad keen cyclist and even has his own blog all about biking, here.

By the way: there are so many book titles in here, and I'm so rushed, and our blogging software is so not 4th generation, that just this once, I'm not going to put them all in italics. I'm sorry about this, but I just can't. When I get back from holiday I'll be so on to it. Over to you, James:

Why did I decide to do this? It’s only going to make people grumpy.

1. Milky Way Bar by Bill Manhire. You were expecting Baxter or Curnow, weren’t you? Ha – this’ll piss a few people off! When I first read Milky Way Bar I found it hilariously funny, then I read it again a few months later and thought it desperately sad. I learned that poetry could not only be both at once, it could be one and then the other, which really is a kind of magic. The three long poems – ‘Brazil’, ‘Phar Lap’ and ‘Hirohito’ – are superb.

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This is the third time I've attempted to write this piece. Because no sooner had we survived the gatherings of Christmas than all three kids fell sick with gastroenteritis.

The joyful episode peaked last night with Ms Nine-Year-Old and Mr Three-Year-Old regurgitating semi-digested strawberries over the living room floor, then a beanbag, followed by two complete sets of bedclothes each, several items of clothing and pyjamas, and two bedroom carpets.

For several hours the washing machine was running uninterrupted, which is more than can be said for the film we were attempting to watch, A Very Long Engagement. (Recommended, by the way: the storyline and magical cinematography are good enough to sustain several interruptions over a five-hour period.)

Oh, and yesterday also saw an emergency dash to the dentist with a pulsating toothache that was revealed to be a precursor of wallet-draining root canal work.

Anyway, these things are sent to test us, and the relative quietude of today means I can grab a minute and look back in languor over the year.

For me, the literary highlights were disparate. Gerald Hensley’s Final approaches: A memoir was a surprise find – an unexpectedly delightful read, both gentle and insightful. At the moment I’m reading Carl Shuker’s The Lazy Boys in fits and starts – a very good book, I reckon, although somewhat depressing. (Why do so many contemporary New Zealand novels have such hearts of darkness?) On the other hand, Scouts In Bondage – an English novelty book, I’m afraid - made me laugh harder than virtually any other.

Harry Ricketts’ How To Catch A Cricket Match (from Awa Press’ sublime Ginger Series) was entertaining; I managed to suspend my loathing of the game itself and gain at least a little understanding of why some people enjoy it. A proof copy of the gorgeously handcrafted Specimens of Metal Type from Tara McLeod’s Pear Tree Press in Waitoki was a wonderful Christmas present. Bill Manhire’s Lifted and Chris Price’s Brief Lives were inspiring, as was Classic New Zealand Poets in Performance.

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To mark the final of the Writers on Mondays series at the Wellington City Gallery (pictured), Maggie Rainey-Smith has sent in a review – obviously feeling that content is somewhat lacking over at LeafSalon! Only two more weeks of NZ Book Month to go and I'll be back – well, a bit back. Still will be keeping the site going at Book Month, just.

But good news just in, The Six Pack winners anthology has hit the shelves at number one on the NZ Fiction Bestsellers list!! Rather extraordinary, but a welcome boost after the last few months of some of the hardest work I've ever done. I have to say, it's a damn fine little book with some extremely good work in it. Check it out – you might have to be quick at this rate. Anyway, here's Maggie with a de-brief – three cheers for Writers on Mondays:

'I went to the final of the Writers on Monday series at the City Gallery. Cath Keneally and Ken Bolton were the featured poets (Australians from Adelaide), whom I had never heard of. As is de rigeur there was the usual microphone ‘curtain raiser’ whereby everyone is entertained while the guests work out if the microphone is working or not – this includes audience participation and feedback.

My feelings on this are that most local literary events purposely include this as part of the routine to relax the audience. It’s as if being literary precludes being practical and sorting out things like sound systems beforehand. And, I’m not being holier than thou – merely observing – as I would be the last person to know how to ensure a sound system was working.

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We've noticed that the buzz is really building around Paul Shannon's debut novel, Davey Darling. After seeing it mentioned in a thread on our forum, we dug around and realised that something big's happening here.

Reviews are starting to pop up everywhere and they're overwhelmingly positive - remarkably so for a first novel.

Shannon is an Auckland web consultant - but the book draws upon his previous life, growing up in the South Island in the 1970s. In the Listener, David Hill says

It’s a wide-open, sensuous, emotional wallow – heart rather than art. It’s always entertaining, often absorbing, regularly irritating. It may well be a great success, and I wouldn’t mind that at all.

Philip Matthews, also writing in the Listener, is similarly taken:

Antecedents might be Ronald Hugh Morrieson’s The Scarecrow, Ian Cross’s The God Boy and Noel Virtue’s The Redemption of Elsdon Bird.

Even cynical students seem to like it too. Amy Brown, writing for Salient, the student magazine of Victoria University, says

I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if one-day high school teachers are including it on their curriculum.

It was a long haul for Shannon to get this book published, and he did the hard yards without the aid of a writing course or tuition. On publicaddress, Russell Brown tips his hat:

I'm always amazed at the way fiction writers can, as Paul did, spend years writing stuff that won't be published before they get the voice right and get to meet the public at last. I'm really thrilled for Paul that now it's finally out there the reception for the book has been so strong - I don't think Geoff Walker was kidding when he said it heralded a major new talent.

At this rate, Davey Darling has got to be the front runner for the Best First Book fiction award at the next Montanas. And we wouldn't be surprised if it has an even bigger impact on the bestseller lists and becomes a landmark on the New Zealand literary scene. Watch this space for a review.

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Hinemoana Baker was recently one of four writers and storytellers on Toi Maori Aotearoa's 'On The Bus 2006' tour (front: Mere Boynton, Hera Taute, Kuri. Back: James George, Apirana Taylor, Hinemoana Baker, Ralph Walker, Keri Kaa. Photo taken by Jasmine Kaa, outside Keri Kaa's home in Rangitukia). The 'bus' visited schools and venues on the North Island's East Coast.

LeafSalon is pleased and proud to have had access to Hinemoana's tour diary. (Note: she sent it with all the right te reo accents, which our programme can't quite cope with - it's on the fix-it pile). A big shout out to Hinemoana taking the time to pass this on, I've been badgering the poor girl something shocking for a 'Words on Wheels' roundup. I'd just like to say how very glad I am that we got this quietly gleaming gem instead – it sat, perhaps, a little closer to her soul:

“By the time I was 14 most of my friends' parents had split up, and so had mine. My mother and I moved away from Dad to Nelson. For the first time, most of my friends' parents were still together.

I remember one conversation with a fellow student who was effusing about how much she loved her dad.

'He's so fantastic,' she said. 'Really easy to talk to, easy to be around. He lets me do most things. I really love him.'

'Cool,' I said. 'Where does he live?'

There was a short silence. She looked at me funny.

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At this time of year, most right-minded folks are curled up at home or on a beach with a good book, so news pickings are slimmer than a model's legs.

The standard journalistic ruse is to create 'best of' lists to fill the gap. And when you think about it, they fulfil a similar function to literary awards.

US journalist J Peder Zane has some interesting points to make on the subject:

"Like all journalists, I have prizes on my mind. December is when we prepare contest entries for our own work and compile the infamous 'Top 10' lists - of the best records, DVDs, films, books, gag gifts - that fill our pages during the holiday seasons. And when we aren't seeking or bestowing honors, we write columns decrying this awards mania. It is a busy time."

Zane's most thought-provoking point, however, is buried deeper in the article:

"With choice comes responsibility. Which songs? Which programs? Which publications? It can make your head ache. In The Paradox of Choice: Why More is Less (2004) Barry Schwartz, a professor of psychology at Swarthmore College, argues that our cornucopia culture is damaging our mental health.

"Perhaps. But that ship has sailed - the future will only bring more choice. In this context, prizes and top 10 lists are cheap forms of mass therapy, reducing the stress of selection. Consider them cultural Prozac."

Zane comes out in favour of lists and prizes, saying "they reflect a vibrant culture full of choice and liberated consumers seeking guidance". That may be so - but they're also a reminder of the increasing amount of decision-making we all have to do on an hourly basis, whether it's composing an answer to an email or deciding which brand of soap to buy.

Now - shall I have have a glass of the Gisborne Gewürztraminer, or the Huapai Pinot Gris?

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Last week, Chris and I found ourselves, thanks to a work trip, at liberty to stroll about in the capital. Yes – gorgeous boutique hotel (The Bolton, yum), VIP tickets to the World of WearableArt Show (superlatives threaten to swamp me), and just enough time in the morning to stroll through Main Trunk Lines, the NZ poetry exhibition at the National Library. Had to pinch myself …

Impossible to try and impart the feeling of seeing the history of NZ poetry, linked as it is with some of the best artists in the country, set out so … quietly and meticulously. I did a quick round, had a small consumer anxiety attack at the sheer scale of the thing, sat down for a minute to regroup, then set to.

It was like travelling really – the more you see the more you realise you have to see. So much cross-referencing of people and places, writers who were friend and inspiration to each other, who you didn't realise came from the same time and place in NZ and whose work must therefore be re-viewed with an eye to their common background … So many venerable names, finally being accurately placed in your personal history of your country’s literature. It's a relief but also a burden – I felt I must add at least a hundred and fifty titles to my ‘must read’ list. Sigh.

However, a few examples: James K Baxter, whose work I have never read and was frankly never going to, was revealed as someone I could possibly have had a good chat with over a whisky (or five, his alcoholism was well known and not pretty, but even so). In a Poetry Magazine supplement for Wellington Teachers College in 1964, (the year I was born) he wrote this:

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Well, I'm attempting to write up some of my impressions of the Writers and Readers Festival, now it's all over. It's been great, but I'm… wrecked! Got to hit the sack, but before I do, the lovely Graham Lindsey has sent in his impressions of another literary event, Fugacity (scroll down for our article from last Tuesday). We LOVE it when people send in their responses to an event. More, please! If we can't be there, we really want to hear what it was like… so, over to you, Graham:

Highlights of the festival for me were as follows, more or less in
chronological order: Tusiata Avia's performances, both as part of Selina
Marsh's discussion on a Pacific poetry web and in the 13X5 reading. I can
imagine some audiences being doubled over by her outrageous satire. Here
we're a little more reserved, but no less mesmerized, perhaps as much by the
dark side of her persona.

Bronwyn Fletcher's 'floor talk' on Bethell's watercolours; especially
intriguing was the enigmatic note on the back of one of them: 'Attempt to
render a vision – sent by request of the vision though considered a failure
by the maker in the attempt.'

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This post comes from the quaint town of Warkworth, where I’m recovering after attending the Matakana Farmer’s Market: a clinical, almost bourgeois display of all things organic. It so resembled a TV set that I half-expected to see Trinny and Susannah from What Not To Wear sashaying around. Fortunately, the experience was enlivened by excellent coffee and rollicking tunes supplied by the live blues trio Elephant Gerald. (Respect to Jim Gladwin on tea-chest base, Tim Oldham on washboard and Brendan Wright on guitar and blues harp. Boys, you rock.)

Anyway, we’re drifting off-brief. The most pressing news of the moment is that the power of ‘litblogs’, such as the one you’re reading right now, is starting to get noticed in the traditional press. An article in the Village Voice is being widely quoted, revealing that ‘literary conversation is erupting all over the Internet in the form of litblogs’. Furthermore, journalist Joy Press claims that ‘publishers have noticed the power of these informal networks to generate word-of-mouth buzz - the holy grail of marketing - and are looking for ways to harness it.’

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I was reminded of the wintry wastes of Antarctica today by three things: the bleedin’ ‘orrible weather for one; second, a reader asking if we had the Erebus (right) commemorative poem by Bill Manhire, read by Sir Edmund Hillary at the 25th anniversary of the crash recently; and third, by the IIML newsletter, whose readers are also apparently keen to see the work of the institution’s director (Manhire). So thanks for the pointer, IIML …

And there it is, on the NZ Poetry Society's website. Just scroll down and you’ll find it. Erebus Voices.

My lovely old sixth form French teacher was on the plane. Miss Price. She had just retired, and the trip was her dream. I had dreams later too, about the horror of the crash, and Miss Price’s part in it – and when I first read the poem I was surprised to find that the phrases ‘debris trail’ and ‘break apart’ actually made my stomach clench.

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It’s interesting to discover which books on New Zealand are are popular with folks outside our country.

The most accurate guide, short of spending a fortune on a custom Nielsen Bookdata report, is probably Amazon.

The top two non-fiction books are the Lonely Planet and Eyewitness Travel guides: no surprise there. But the third bestselling book is Slipping Into Paradise: Why I Live in New Zealand.

It's written by a chap called Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson, a ‘former Sanskrit scholar and project director of the Sigmund Freud Archives’.

The Amazon website includes a puff piece on Masson’s book from Phil Goff, who should know better. Goff describes Masson's book thus:

Written by someone who clearly loves the country and is prepared to say so, it’s an effective introduction to anyone who wants to know more about a society on the cusp of new beginnings.

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The Herald on Sunday is out at last, so let’s check out the Books section in its arts magazine View.

There are three pages of books. One page is devoted to reviews and bestseller lists, a second to a profile of Line of Beauty author Adam Hollinghurst, and a third carries an article about a Robbie Williams biography.

The articles on Williams and Hollinghurst are high quality, but unfortunately reprints. The Williams story ran in the Daily Telegraph on September 19, and the Hollinghurst piece ran in the Observer on April 11, nearly five months ago.

Reprinting overseas articles is nothing new for newspapers in a small market, but it’s a little disappointing to find that two thirds of the entire HoS Books section is reprinted.

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