Ah, Penguin. It’s a rollercoaster ride with you, isn’t it? So far this year I’ve loved a book, hated a book, and now back to love. And there’s all those odd goings-on with plagiarism and such. They’re like the Microsoft of New Zealand publishing.

But, on to Cannibal Jack. What a great book! What a great story! What a great character! Jacky Marmon was a “Pakeha-Maori”, born in Sydney to Irish parents who first jumped ship around 1817 to live with Maori around Kerikeri River and other Ngapuhi hapu around the Bay of Islands. Eventually he ended up with Hongi Hika, survived the Musket Wars and settled in the Hokianga, much later becoming involved with Hone Heke.

Cannibal Jack has a great narrative flow – based on two versions of Marmon’s supposed “autobiography” that were published in New Zealand newspapers around the time of his death in 1880, it intersperses sections from these with Bentley’s detailed research into the truer story of Marmon’s life. This allows Bentley to highlight and use the more flowery and, frankly, adventurous account of Marmon with the drier details of, for example, ship movements around New Zealand, missionary reports and other, more reliable, sources of historical data.

And it presents a fascinating portrait of Pakeha early involvement with Maori and the way those Pakeha viewed Maori as individuals and as a people. There is lots of detail of Maori life pre-colonisation, and some great examples of Pakeha misinterpretations of Maori concepts of tapu, muru and mana. Bentley also does a skilful job of interpreting Marmon’s stories to tease out the details of Pakeha feelings towards the Maori “way of life” and show us why the histories of Pakeha-Maori like Marmon are still so relevant today.

Marmon became a subject of much myth and speculation by other Pakeha in colonial New Zealand, mostly due to his wild tales of engaging in cannibalism and… yeah, okay, it was mostly the cannibalism. Let’s face it, even now cannibalism has a particular hold on the collective gory imagination of just about every culture in this world, and whether Marmon witnessed and was really involved with quite as much cannibalistic practice as he claimed would have to be open to conjecture, as Bentley makes pretty clear. What isn’t in doubt, however, is that Marmon’s editors/ghost writers knew that including as many details as they could attribute to Marmon’s flippant stories of such things, or embellish, was a great way to ensure readership!

Cannibal Jack is also wonderfully illustrated with both recognisable and less well-known images from early Pakeha history. I hope the story of early Maori and Pakeha interactions is as intriguing for other readers as it is for me – because really this is the story of why we are now who we are. Once we were people on opposite sides of the world, and when we came together we muddled through mutual captivation and confusion to some semblance of a nation and culture of our own. Histories like this can only help that grow even more. Three cheers.

Soulless, Changeless, Blameless

Aha! I slay me.

Changeless and Soulless have bounced around the interwebs for a while so I thought I’d dive in and have a read – Changeless was the first title to become available for me at the library so, despite it being the second in the series, I took it. I’ve been told I really should have read Soulless and I will be when it becomes available.

Anyway, actual book? A fun piece of fluffery. Frippery even. Don’t expect much (which I kind of made the mistake of doing), don’t expect writing that extends beyond exposition and you’ll be fine.

Does that make me sound like a total po-faced killjoy? Because it reads like it does.

Some of the supposed language tics annoyed the frick out of me, the plot was a little slow to begin with but improved immensely, I’m not one for cliffhanger endings, I enjoyed a lot of the humour, I engaged more with the characters as the book progressed, I’m happy to read the others (but not looking to run out and buy them), I didn’t love it like I thought I would but I’m willing to look into a bit more of the genre (steampunk. I believe).

Changeless was fun. Is what I’m trying to say.

I think I need to relax more.

Blog reader recommendation for the win! Thanks Craig for recommending Jaime Hernandez – upon which I ran right out to the library and got this title (I’m so suggestible). I didn’t like this quite as much as Strangers in Paradise but to be fair that is more a matter of some personal taste around narrative and not a negative comment on this title.

Locas II is wild, a bit crazy, awesomely illustrated, sad and fun. I can’t comment a lot on the storyline because this is the first Jaime Hernandez I’ve read so these characters are all new to me. The story swings from female character centred to male character centred and, really, that just makes it so enjoyable to read, compared to the “action” graphic novel genre. Is that a genre? If not I just made it up – but do you know what I mean? Manly action hero stuff – a lot of which is good but a lot of which is crap.

Tamburlaine Must Die by Louise Welsh

I thoroughly enjoyed my first read of Louise Welsh earlier this year, so I was keen to get this out of the library when I spotted it purely by chance! And I’m glad I did as it is definitely a worthwhile read, a short novel speculating on the last days of Christopher Marlowe (a contemporary of Shakespeare) who was stabbed and died under circumstances that were mysterious at the time and have become increasingly mysterious over the centuries.

Welsh explores this mystery and gives us an entertaining story at the same time – which seems to be Welsh’s modus operandi and the reader is all the better for it!

A great short read – perfect for a little weekend quiet time.

Three Shadows by Cyril Pedrosa

Duuhuuhuuhuude… *sobs uncontrollably*

So there’s this lovely little family with this cute little kid and then these shadows appear and then the mother freaks out and then the father freaks out and then he takes the cute little kid and flees and… and… and… *breaks down again*

*deep breath*

It’s a great looking graphic novel and the story is sweet and poignant and devastating and really, if you have kids or are just really, really attached to them then make sure you read this with a box of tissues handy.

*sniffle*

The Widow’s Daughter by Nicholas Edlin, Penguin, RRP $30, ISBN 9780143204091, Available now.

This review that has been haunting my brain for a few days now – well, ever since I finished The Widow’s Daughter. This should be a great book and I should have liked it – it has a great premise, it’s a debut novel, but the writing is technically good, it has a strong New Zealand connection… but nothing about it came together. And so much about it left me cold and wondering why I was reading it.

The Widow’s Daughter focuses on Peter Sokol – American marine and surgeon who arrives in Auckland in the early 1940s and becomes involved with a mysterious, self-proclaimed British family through a growing attraction/love/obsession for their daughter, Emily.

Much mystery then ensues, and the book switches between this setting and the Californian coast in the 70s, where Sokol lives with his partner and works as an artist - and the release of a new book written by a fellow Marine and essentially telling what Sokol believes is his story becomes the catalyst for revisiting within himself his time in New Zealand.

One of the downfalls is this switching between the two stories – particularly in the initial stages of the book, the chapters are quite short and there just isn’t enough time in each era to become comfortable and enthralled – or to take in what’s happening and become connected to events, locations and the characters. And it’s this sense of connection (which can really sort out the great books from the okay books) which then becomes a major problem later on.

I felt no connection to the characters in The Widow’s Daughter and little connection to the location or story. I found myself being less interested in the characters as the book went on – which is bottom about face, right? But the characters were cold, and unpleasant without charm. With this happening it then became difficult to connect to the location (despite a very obvious reason for why it should have been an easy connection – one of the reasons I wanted to read The Widow’s Daughter in the first place) and to the story – if I’m not caring about these characters I’m not caring about where they’re going, what will happen to them before they get there – and I had no emotional involvement in any possible redemption/epiphany of any of them. 

The depiction of Auckland begins charmingly and truthfully with a focus on the nature of the light in New Zealand – sharp, hard, all-revealing and dazzling. I had a moment of “yes!” that got drowned out by the repetition of this insight – again and again and again and again and… again. Oh wait, metaphorical, right? *sigh* And any reader looking for an interesting sense of place from the setting of New Zealand, or any authentic sounding voice of the inhabitants, will finish very disappointed. Beyond the tidbit about Victoria Park being a rubbish tip/burner (again, repeated too many times) there is little detail about either the New Zealand/Auckland of the time or the Americans who found themselves there. One finished with the impression that the Kiwis at the time were all boofheads and the Americans were all drunks who spent all of their days with prostitutes. Really?

In the final equation I was simply frustrated and annoyed by The Widow’s Daughter. At heart it is not a badly written book but it all feels a bit like a show. In a twist the tagline on the cover – “When love becomes obsession” – ends up being quite apt – a meaningless phrase that doesn’t seem to have had a lot of time put into it or a critical eye cast over it.

The Complete Maus by Art Spiegelman There can’t be many people who don’t know the story of Maus but in case you don’t, it’s a retelling of the Holocaust with the Jews as mice and the Nazis as cats. At least that’s what the basic overviews will tell you but what they don’t tell you is it’s so much more than that. Without wanting to sound flippant there has evolved certain tropes around cultural explorations of the Holocaust in our society – Maus ignores and explodes all of these.

It’s heartrending in its factual account of the lives of Spiegelman’s parents, Vladek and Anja, and their survival through WWII and Auschwitz, and the portrayal of Art’s relationship with his father Vladek. There’s no glossing over the dark realities in order to portray the easy dichotomy of Nazi=bad, everyone else=good. It was war.

Chaucer by Peter Ackroyd. On a completely different note, Chaucer is a brief biography of … Chaucer (surprising, non?). I have really enjoyed Ackroyd’s previous novels and non-fiction (London in particular is a work of stunning history) but this was unfortunately pedestrian. Bah.

The Colour of Magic graphic novel. Not Terry Pratchett but the next best thing! Pretty enjoyable actually, though I always find with graphic novel adaptations that you wish they didn’t rush through them so fast. Would it be so hard to do an indepth version? Or perhaps that’s not the point. Fun, even if the illustrations could never match (in my mind) Josh Kirby’s fantastic cover art for the pre-2001 Discworld books.

Right, I’ve got myself together and here’s the first book giveaway! Leave a comment on this post and you could win one of three books – Shadow Sister by Simone van der Vlugt, Thief by Maureen Gibbon or A Matter of Life and Death by Sue Armstrong.  This giveaway will run until Sunday night at 5pm, and I’ll post the winner at 8pm Sunday 11 July.

Tomorrow I’ll start a giveaway for Gunshot Road by Adrian Hyland and on Friday it will be The Crime of Huey Dunstan by James McNeish. You can enter all giveaways!

As usual,  judges decision is final, no correspondence will be entered into, yada yada yada. Oh, and sorry overseas readers, but I can only post to New Zealand addresses, so New Zealand address holders only, please.  And, uh, I reserve the right to change these rules because there may have been something I’ve forgotten. One winner will be drawn at random for each giveaway.

So comment away free book lovers! And don’t say I never do anything for you!

First up:

A Matter of Life and Death : Inside the Hidden World of the Pathologist by Sue Armstrong, Text Publishing, ISBN 9781847675811

An interesting non-fiction book, if not exactly mind-blowing. Sue Armstrong interviews a range of pathologists from around the world, all working in different areas (disease research, historical research, forensics). There’s a lot of questions about how and why the interviewees got into pathology and these are some of the most compelling answers, as well as the historical information about epidemics like the Spanish Influenza.

Suffers a little from being a bit too clinical (ha!) due to the dry “transcription of questions and answers” format. For a book length read I personally find this format to be too limiting – it’s very hard to judge tone and context without any author assistance. But overall I’d recommend it if you find this sort of carry-on fascinating (like I do) and are happy with a touch of gore and the macabre (like me).

Strangers in Paradise graphic novel series by Terry Moore

Brilliant. Brriiiiiiilliant! (trill it with me). Sad, beautiful, ridiculous and ultimately incredibly satisfying reading. I loved every minute and can’t believe I’ve now finished all 6 books. Waaah! Previous musings on this series are here. READ THEM! I command you!

The illustration is phenomenal – a perfect mix of whimsical, realistic, fantasy, serious and amusing. And I dare you to not fall in love with at least ONE of the characters.

So what’s up next? Well I have more graphic novels, as well as Gold by Dan Rhodes, Chaucer by Peter Ackroyd and Diary by Chuck Palahniuk.

And look out this week for a ton of giveaways – I’ve got a small pile of books with which to reward you, my lucky readers! ♥

SO GOOD. Two words that sum up my entire reaction to this fabulous book. Yes, this is another crime/thriller but I have nothing bad to say about this one – what amazing writing! What fantastic characterisation! What a stunning hold on pacing and tension Hyland has!

Gunshot Road is Hyland’s follow up to Diamond Dove and, like that title, follows Emily Tempest – the new Aboriginal Community Police Officer for the outback town of Bluebush. We get straight into the problems involved for Emily in dealing with her white bosses and her Aboriginal friends and townmates, problems which only get compounded with the death of an old friend in a seemingly open and shut murder.

Emily, though, suspects that there is nothing open and shut about the case and embarks on an investigation of her own, one that puts her in physical danger. The story progresses at a great pace – not necessarily fast chronologically but perfectly timed to keep the reader hooked and involved. The tension is perfectly balanced with some beautiful domestic scenes and witty one-liners. The whole story really put me in mind (oddly enough) of the old TV mini-series Edge of Darkness (god, no, not the movie) – it had the same feeling of a local story that becomes something much larger and with genuinely thrilling moments interspersed with haunting personal introspection.

At the same time Hyland has an amazing ear for voices and Emily’s in particular is charming, rough and humourous – which describes the whole book, really. The location is outback Australia and there are no pulled-punches here – Hyland shows both the whites and Aborigines viscerally responding to and interacting with the land around them, and his portrayal of the social problems in the Bluebush community is both casual and heartbreaking. Over all of this looms the land itself – large, open, wide, hot, dusty. Empty. Watching.

It’s all brilliant stuff and I honestly can’t recommend it highly enough. Buy it! Don’t question me! Just do it!

The Crime of Huey Dunstan by James NcNeish, Text Publishing (Australia) & Random House (New Zealand), RRP AU$32.95 & NZ$36.99.

I was intrigued by this title purely because it was written by James McNeish – a New Zealand author who I confess I hadn’t yet read. The Crime of Huey Dunstan is narrated by Professor Chesney (a psychologist who specialises in trauma and also happens to blind) who recounts to us his involvement in the trial of Huey Dunstan – a young man accused of a killing that he very definitely did commit – but the question that Professor Chesney investigates is why? And what could this mean within New Zealand’s laws regarding provocation?

You can probably see where this is going by now, and really it doesn’t take much. The story is not so much in the plot points but in the head space of its characters and the machinations of the legal system they’re dealing with. McNeish has done a fine job of exploring the implications, both social and legal, of the provocation defense within the New Zealand system. All very timely considering recent cases that have provoked both impassioned and ill-thought-out responses.

In some ways the book reads a bit like a who-dunnit – not who-dun what Huey-dun, but who-dun it to Huey. Ches finds that Huey’s actions may have been beyond his control due to an unacknowledged trauma in his childhood. There’s some talk of “buried memories” here but I’ll be honest, to me the idea of a buried memory is that you hold on to it a lot harder than Huey does, which points to the only real fault of the book - pacing. Some of the early “investigation” by Ches seems to happen a little too fast and the revelations come out a little too easily. Then we got into a lot of the courtroom drama and, as a reader, I started to feel bogged down. Fortunately McNeish does a better job of picking the story up in the final quarter.

McNeish also does an excellent job of portraying the back story and concurrent lives of Huey’s family and his superb study of the character of “back country” North Island towns is both restrained and immediately recognisable, and these are some of the most enjoyable passages to read. The details of the relationship of Ches and his wife and Ches’ family and acquintances are also nicely handled as are the practical details of Ches’ working life as a blind person.

In the end I have to confess to not being entirely sure of where I was with Huey – did I believe him? Did it matter whether I believed him? And, just as importantly, did I believe Ches? Of course these are exactly the questions that arise whenever the defense of provocation was used. I don’t feel that McNeish answered any of these questions, which I hope wasn’t really his intention.

My final summing up (see what I did there, with the legal laffs?) though is McNeish hasn’t quite pulled this all together and pulled it off. I was left with a distinct feeling of the end not quite mashing with the middle not quite mashing with the beginning not quite mashing with the whole. A book of good parts mixed with bad parts and unfortunately marred by the inconsistency.

I have to admit I have the same problem with most sci-fi that I have with most fantasy – it’s far too formulaic. And yes, I know, there will be plenty of fans out there who will probably absolutely fume and rant at that statement. Sorry!

Cor! Check him out!

But let me redeem myself by telling everyone that if they only read one piece of sci-fi crazy ponytime writing let it be Dune by Frank Herbert. I first read Dune when I was around about 12? Maybe? (It’s so long ago, who can remember?) and it was awe-inspiring. Worlds upon worlds upon worlds – helped by a slight addiction to a bad video copy of the 1984 David Lynch movie (David Lynch? doesn’t that just add to the crazy ponytime atmosphere around Dune? ) starring a pretty damn hot young Kyle MacLachlan.

Ahem. Back to the book.

It was eye-opening. Total worlds created from a vast mish-mash of worlds we know and spiritual whackedoutedness and giant worms and crazy girl children and odd words and names and language borrowed from all over the show and nuns and …

When you’re 12 a world of crazy appeals. There were mounds of detail and I had all the time in the world to drown myself in it and believe it. I think Dune was almost my first experience of an adult world that was completely made up and completely real at the same time. It stunned me and opened up a huge world of possibility through writing – writing could be anything and everything.