I’m utterly torn writing this review. My immediate reaction was to try to put this story behind me – I wished I had not ever heard of poor Winstone or his sad childhood. But I finished the book over four weeks ago, and the story is still with me.  And I know this is a story that is potentially very real and the way Tanya Moir reveals the story is marvellous. That I even finished the book through its dire episodes, further dire episodes, and the direst episodes that fill the last pages of the book is entirely due to the story telling.

As each turn and twist occurs, the reader is gently entwined in the story. Winstone is a 12 year old Otago boy whose life is less than ideal. His father is angry, often fuelled by anger and rarely reasonable. His older brother is already an unpleasant protégé, and his little sister tiptoes through the violence, at times successfully. Their mother is long gone.

Both Marlene (the sister) and Winstone are immediate classroom outcasts at every school they attend. And there are many. You get the impression that soap, showers, and washing machines are rare treats in this family. These are dirty kids with dirty, yet hopeful lives.

Winstone escapes this life through a fantasy world where he is a brave young cowboy riding through a series of clichéd western films. Moir admits that the western movie was a major driver for this book. Her description of the vistas and adventures of Winstone Blackhat are superb. In his fantasy world, Winstone is a hero, he is in control, he survives.

Winstone’s story is slowly revealed through his real-time adventures – living rough in hunters’ lodges, and stealing food for survival. He has clearly run away and the reasons are revealed slowly. The third component that is interspersed throughout are his fantastical western adventures.

I think we all have dreams of how our lives can be. It makes sense to me that Winstone’s dreams are completely far-fetched and ridiculous… It’s the counterbalance to his wretched real life. As a reader this exquisite balance is the saving grace of what, otherwise, is a really sad story without a perfect happy ending. And it’s the reason I am recommending it. This is a story that you may wish you didn’t know; but it’s a book that you will be glad you read.

The book also supersedes our outsider view of this situation. It shows what a child like this must endure. A child that is is ill-equipped to cope with predatory adults; he doesn’t understand the basic rights and wrongs that responsible parents espouse; he has no roadmap. We view his world from our perspective, because we can do nothing else. Winstone views and behaves in the world the only way he knows how and it’s simply not enough.

This is a terrific book of a terrible tale. Tanya Moir walks a fine line with her story-telling here and when you watch anyone on a tight rope it is an exhilarating experience of fear and surprise.

Annie, or more correctly Dappled Annie, and her littlebrother Robbie live in a remote (and idyllic) location; their father is the lighthouse keeper. I know this is supposed to be the lighthouse at Castlepoint (the afterword tells me so) but it could be anywhere along the New Zealand coastline. For me, it’s Burgess Island in the Mokohinau Islands of the Hauraki Gulf. A place so remote as to be perfect.

With busy parents, the two children in this book only have each other and their imaginations to fill the long summer days. Annie likes to get close, very close, to the natural world. When she stands surrounded by the interleaving branches, the individual trees come alive. To Annie, the trees are alive; she hears and converses in their language. I found the way the trees come alive a little forced, but in reality, how else do you make trees come alive? The wind brings a pivotal creature – the Tigrish – into the story. And the adventure begins. It was easy to get swept up in the tale and by the end I came to view the hedge as alive as Annie herself.  After all, who hasn’t seen faces in a hedgerow or a tree trunk? And noticed the dappled light as shadows come, grow, and eventually disappear?

I love the way Mary McCallum brings a wonderful child-level view to the world. For example running through a pine forest dodging the pinecone grenades that drop from the sky. She captures the exaggerated nervousness that can only occur in one’s own mind:
“Annie heard a sound on the stairs as if someone was following her. Out of the corner of her eye something flickered. A moth? A mouse? Something bigger?”

She captures the bravado of a child:
““I’m ready,” she said again, which meant she wasn’t really ready but was trying to be.”

And she captures the musings of a child eavesdropping on a fantail family as they “Pick! Pick! Pick! Me!”  The baby fantails call to their father as they jostle for the next unlucky insect he brings. Annie hears the yearning and angst of that family.

It’s a lovely original story. Children with vivid imaginations, who love playing outside (like we all used to do), will find some synergies with delightful Annie. All children need to push themselves outside of their comfort zone and Annie and her brother do that – facing their fears and embarking on a unique adventure. This is a thoroughly New Zealand adventure and delightful story.

Published by Gecko Press
ISBN 9781877579192


This review was first published on the booksellers.co.nz blog

When I first picked up this book, I was anticipating a coffee-table book full of pictures with accompanying text, and much to my delight what I found was a compelling story of a community. A community of dolphins. The book almost doesn’t focus on the dolphins per sé – of course there is the obligatory scientific and identification stuff in the beginning – but rather the book focuses on our interaction with New Zealand dolphins. Our historical interaction; our current interaction; and the potential (or not) of future interaction.

The dolphins are the centre,  and focus, of this book, but the main characters seem to be those that interact and care and spend their energy protecting them. From the Cook Strait ship masters who enjoyed almost ritual interactions with Pelorus Jack in the early twentieth century; to the children who nearly half a century later played with Opo in the Hokianga Harbour. From treasure hunter and ecologist Wade Doak who spent years swimming and communicating with dolphins; to Dr Ingrid Visser who will jump on a plane after a single phone call to help a team of dedicated individual rescue beached Orca. Many people, like Ingrid, have dedicated a lifetime to helping  dolphins and this book is about them as much (maybe more) than the dolphins.

The human interaction with dolphins in Aotearoa started long before Europeans landed in Aotearoa – Maori have always respected and revered the dolphins. Interactions, of course, increase significantly as we take to the water; and the faster we go, the more likely we are to be accompanied by a dolphin riding the bow wave.  That we may have these interactions in the future is not necessarily a given and Raewyn challenges us to transfer our passion for these highly intelligent and social creatures into a call for action. It is hard to imagine that one of these species (Maui’s dolphin) is nearly extinct.

Although conservation is at the heart of this book, it never gets in the way of a captivating story.

Published by Craig Potton Publishing, RRP $59.99
ISBN 9781877517983

This review was first published on the booksellers.co.nz blog

This is the eighth book in this hugely popular series and delivers completely. Series fans and newcomers will be equally entertained by Jeff Kinney’s clever interpretation of everyday life. If you have not encountered this series, or the movies, before, the main character and narrator, whose diary this purports to be, is Greg Heffley. Greg is a typical boy in many ways – adventurous, mischievous, and at times utterly hapless and out of luck. At other times, pure genius and the luckiest boy at school. These books remind us what is to be a child trying to fit in and find a yet to be determined niche in the world.

In order to connect with young readers and be “believable” children’s authors are required to tap into the expectations and psyche of their readers. This is not that different for any writer, you need to know your audience, but for an adult writing for a primarily much younger audience this can be a tricky pathway to tread. Kinney is a master at this. I remember once  being in a writers’ workshop with the wonderful Joy Cowley who encouraged us all to meditate to take us into our own childhoods; to evoke a memory and the feelings associated with that memory; to imagine ourselves as a child of that age. It wasn’t totally unsuccessful and I could see immediately this was a very useful tool for any adult writing a children’s book. But Jeff Kinney seems to have surpassed even this phase – in capturing Greg’s story he seems to not so much been remembering but living Greg’s life. This is powerful and engaging narrative at its best. My own children have devoured all of the books in this series, and although they have moved onto more sophisticated texts, they both paused to read this book cover to cover one evening and loved the humour, and dare I say it, comfort, of another Wimpy Kid book.

If you are a kid, have ever been a kid, or a parent, then these books will trigger a memory or two. If you do not find something that resonates with your own life I would be surprised. This particular book is about wider families and the  idiosyncrasies that always accompany them; it’s about friendships and the waning and waxing and rekindling of them; it’s about the challenges of being a loving parent and wanting to do the best for for your most beloved children whilst not smothering their individuality. But most of all it’s funny and entertaining. You will laugh at Greg, his friends, his family and yourself. If you don’t laugh at yourself, then you need to try harder. To laugh that is.

Jeff Kinney has been described as a rock star in the publishing world, and one of the most influential (top 100) people in the world by Time magazine. The key reasons for his publishing success are an amazing ability to tune into the lives of young people; and a very accessible way of writing and drawing that looks incredibly easy, but clearly requires consummate skill. this is a book for everyone, and after you read this go back and read the early books in the series, if you haven’t already. You won’t be disappointed.

published by Puffin
ISBN 9780143308089


This review was first published on the booksellers.co.nz blog

Brave Company sees our main character, a teenage naval recruit, travelling aboard a New Zealand naval vessel towards an increasingly hostile Korean War in 1952. Amongst his baggage is the intangible need to prove his worth. Worth that is both bolstered and challenged by a family tradition of bravery in the armed services.

Russel, the main character, lives with his mother, and the memory of an uncle who was a decorated war hero. Or was he? Did he die with honour? Or was he a coward? Russel finds evidence to convince him of the latter, so he joins the forces in part to reinstate the honour his uncle has destroyed. Russel is a young man with a point to prove.

Russel finds himself in foreign territory that he knows little about. He knows the enemy are communist and that the world needs to be saved from their power so he is willing to fight for freedom. Mostly, the role of this NZ navy ship is a support one, and little active fighting is encountered.  Which is a good thing, as Russel realises quickly how inexperienced and ill-prepared he really is.

When Russel finds himself in the midst of active warfare, he quickly learns the truth – the truth about his uncle, the enemy and himself.

Drawing on the “not everything is really as it appears” approach, David Hill has written a pacey story with action and adventure. Along the way, the readers will become attached to the characters, especially Russel, and his story will feel authentic and real. Readers can’t help but wonder why Russel and his NZ naval crew were even in this war, and about the fine line between cowardice and bravery, and between right and wrong.

Published by Penguin NZ
ISBN 9780143307570


This review was first published on the booksellers.co.nz blog

I was drawn to the bright cover of this book, but immediately fearful that it might be a dark teenage read about suicide. It most definitely is not the latter, and I should say at the outset that I loved it. I loved the story, I loved the characters and I loved that it made me cry.

The book’s main character is 17 year old Tara, an ordinary young woman with extraordinary artistic ability. Her family background is bleak – there is not just financial poverty but a poverty of spirit, which is not quite explained until near the end of the book. Tara’s mother is emotionally hard, brutal to her daughters, and pretty unlikeable. Her father is bed-ridden by a stroke. Tara and her mother are the main bread-winners and care-givers. Northern Irish immigrants they are making the most of their lot, but sadly leaving the emotional needs of their two daughters unmet.

One of these daughters has already removed herself from this world, and Tara with a robust fascination with Vincent van Gogh finds herself unravelling both van Gogh’s tragic life, and her sister’s short life (conveniently named Van) at the same time.

This book has a theme of death running through it – both self-inflicted and natural – but it never becomes burdensome or heavy to the reader, although it does for Tara who does tackle it head-on.

Tara and her family are utterly believable, and the story that unfolds helps to explain why Tara’s family are paralysed by their own lives. Tara however is a survivor, and she finds support where she needs it, and crucially when she needs it the most.

This is a powerful and emotional story, with characters that felt real, and a resolution that was satisfying and believable, and just unanticipated enough to be a surprise.

Published by Random House
ISBN 9781775533276 (paperback)
ISBN 9781775533283 (e-book)

This review was first published on the booksellers.co.nz blog

I’m not really a fan of short stories. I often find them lacking – I get to the end and feel dissatisfied that the story stops, with so much unsaid and so much more to be said. I had attributed this to my love of longer fiction and decided I just guiltily wanted more. But reading this debut collection from Emma Martin, I have discovered that great short fiction is in another league altogether. That’s is possible to connect with a character and still feel satisfied when they leave your conscious after only 20 pages.

This collection is about women, young and old, all at different stages of their lives, all with different challenges to conquer. The characters are recognisable in a way that many could be me; my friends; or my family. Or yours. I felt I knew them all by the end of the book. And although I cared enough about the fate of many, I did not crave more pages since these life segments were complete. Exquisitely complete.

Strong and interesting women of all ages populate this book – a woman who returns to NZ after an exciting OE and settles for a nice and good man; a 1960s teenager who finds herself whisked off to the city to await the imminent birth of her first child; a contemporary couple whose mildly dysfunctional relationship results in unpredictable disaster.

The events that unfold are simple everyday occurrences that many of us could find ourselves sin the midst of, but the observation of the fallout of these seemingly simple activities, events and decisions, is perfect. Emma Martin is an adept observer of the interesting titbits of which everyday life is comprised. It is perhaps not surprising that she won the Commonwealth Short Story Prize for the story from which the book takes its title.

I am already eager to read her next collection.

Published by Victoria University Press
ISBN 9780864738851


This review was first published on the booksellers.co.nz blog

It takes quite a lot of trust and faith in your reader to mix a thoroughly ancient legend, in this case about mythical selkies, with a modern of coming of age story. Half of the main characters in this book by Rachael King are in fact seals; seals that, in keeping with Scottish legend, turn into beautiful young women when they cast their skins aside to walk on land. The mythical selkies. The other characters are one half of a modern day separated family trying to get on with life as best they can. It also takes a good storyteller to pull it off.

Surprisingly perhaps, I found myself suspending disbelief; and I became entranced by this book and its characters. And it happened so subtly that I didn’t even notice. The main character Jake is a little lost – his parents are divorced, his mother remarried with a new baby. He visits his father who is living a nomadic writer’s existence on the Wellington coast. But the school holidays are never much fun without friends, so the adventurous Jake takes off to explore the rocks of the Wellington coastline. He makes friends with another equally lonely young girl and an old man and attracts the interest of some local bullies. But it is when he finds an abandoned seal skin which he hauls home that the trouble really begins. The taking of the skin is the key turning point in this book as it unravels the story and importantly prevents its rightful owner from going to back to the sea.

Hindsight is a great thing. And of course, I can tell you now that I knew all along which characters were human and which were seals, but what’s clever is the way this realisation subtly unfolds. There is not a moment of mass revelation, you just suddenly begin to understand who the characters are and how they inter-relate and it feels natural. I guess that’s why it easy to believe in all of the characters in this book; they just work.

Interestingly, I just handed the book to my eleven year old saying it was great and I think you will like it. He read the back (which mentions seal skins but nothing about selkies) and he asked “What’s up with selkies? This is the third book this year that’s had slekies in it.”

Really? I had no idea. Apparently, his teacher has been reading these books to them in class.

“What time period have they been set in?” I asked.
“Ancient of course” was his reply. “And all in Scotland.”
“What about one set in Wellington in modern times. Could that work?”
“Hmm, maybe.”

But there is no maybe about it. This book works and it’s a gripping page-turning tale.

The book should appeal to any reader (young or old) who is able to suspend reality briefly, but after all isn’t that what reading is all about?

Published by Random House
ISBN 9781869799144 (paperback)
ISBN 9781869799151 (e-book)


This review was first published on the booksellers.co.nz blog