Marion Drolsbach, translator extraordinaire 🙂

Just a reminder in case you’ve missed instalments #1 and #2, but this post series is featuring photos taken by Marion Drolsbach when she visited NZ late last year.

Marion is a book translator and we e-met when she translated The Heir of Night into Dutch. She is also a keen photographer and the photos were taken at the mouth of one of Canterbury’s many braided rivers.

As mentioned last time, I particularly love the bird life we saw that day –  and today’s little guy is one of NZ’s most endangered birds, the wrybill plover or ngutuparore. Its most distinctive feature is the “wry” or laterally-curved bill, which always bends to the right. I understand it is the only bird in the world with such a bill – if you enlarge, you should see the bend.

Wrybill plover; ngutuparore

The wrybill is a wading bird and lives and breeds in the shingle braids of Canterbury’s rivers, which makes it particularly vulnerable to NZ’s introduced predators (e.g. cats, dogs, mustelids, and rats) – and of course the collateral damage of humans themselves.

I love seeing them in lagoons and riverbeds in exactly the way Marion has captured in these photos. Yet in addition to the intensification of adjoining land and water use, the transition of rivermouth communities from holiday homes to permanent residents (as people seek cheaper places to live) also means a proliferation of dogs and particularly cats (which are allowed to roam more freely) so I fear the pressure on these unique and already endangered birds is only going to increase.

Despite that gloomy note, I hope you enjoy your encounter with ngutuparore.

Check out the feet!

It’s over two years now since I featured Tamsyn Muir’s Gideon the Ninth (Locked Tomb #1) in my worldbuilding series on Supernatural Underground.

Since then I’ve read Harrow the Ninth (but just didn’t get around to posting on it — mea culpa!) Today, though, I’m reporting in on Nona the Ninth, Book Three in the Locked Tomb series.

Nona picks up right where Harrow left off, re-immersing readers in the Locked Tomb’s space-spanning world of necromancers and lyctors, undead legions and  Resurrection Beasts. Readers also re-meet characters met before in Gideon and Harrow (I’m not saying exactly who because that might count as a spoiler) as well as some equally interesting new ones.

In fact, there are some really great characters in Nona, starting with Nona herself. Author Alix E Harrow‘s cover tagline is that, “You will love Nona, and Nona loves you.” Unquestionably, both statements are true: I did love Nona’s character, and Nona pretty much loves everyone. In part, this is because she doesn’t know who she is (those with her are trying to help her find out) so has a very young mental age—and some of those other great new characters are the kids in the school where she is a teaching assistant.

One of the things I feel Tamsyn Muir captures really well in Nona is the “voices” and personalities of the children, with their mix of naivete and street wisdom, including the boundaries that shift between unstinting generosity, bargaining, and uncompromising harshness. Nona also contains a sequence that explains the background events that created the Locked Tomb world—expect themes of climate change and social division. NZ readers may particularly enjoy the distinctively Kiwi setting to this backstory. 🙂

The characters are great and the story rocks along, an aspect that brings readers closer to the ethos of Gideon than Harrow, with its more complex narrative. My only reservation is one that continues from reading Harrow, which is that I’m slightly perplexed over the plot and how aspects of the world hang together. (No pun intended, given those skeletons. 😀 )

Obviously, with a final book yet to come (working title: Alecto the Ninth) readers can reasonably expect such perplexities to work themselves out. Alternatively, my plot-wrangling “slip” may be showing. Either way, Nona is a fun read and I have no hesitation in recommending it to you.

Also obviously, if you’re already a Tamsyn Muir fan I have little doubt you’re going to love Nona, too. For those who’re not familiar with the series, I believe that if you’ve enjoyed World War Z by Max Brooks, Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie, Cowboy Feng’s Space Bar and Grill by Steven Brust, or The Quantum Thief by Hannu Rajaniemi, then the Locked Tomb series may well appeal, too.

Disclosure: I read an uncorrected proof edition supplied by the publisher, TOR DOTCOM’s South Island representative — a trade paperback equivalent clocking in at 477 pages.

USA

The About The Characters post series focuses on the minor characters in The Wall Of Night series, in large part because:

“I think it’s the presence of the smaller characters that “makes” a story, creating texture around the main points of view.”

~ from my Legend Award Finalist’s Interview, 2013

Initially, the series focused exclusively on characters from The Heir of Night, but now I’m continuing on with minor characters from both The Gathering Of The Lost and Daughter of Blood — in alphabetical order, by name, of course!

Currently we’re still traversing the letter “M”, but I’m “pretty sure” this is the penultimate entry. 😀

—

UK/AU/NZ

Mykon Ambard: envoy from the Assassin’s Guild to the Conclave of Ij, on the River; nephew to the prince of the House of Ilvaine

“What does it matter what some commander or other does on the Derai Wall?” Mykon Ambard demanded. “We have more than enough to concern us here in Ij.”

 “Especially this morning,” murmured the prince. “But still—a Master must know something of the world around him.”

Mykon Ambard looked as though he would like to argue, but before he could speak, Leto Ilvaine dashed up on a fine dun courser. “The column is ready for you to join it, my prince.”

~ from © The Gathering of the Lost, The Wall Of Night Book Two – Chapter 10, A Pebble Falls

” A word after a word after a word is power”

~ Margaret Atwood

~*~

Kate Forsyth identifies this as one of her favourite writing quotes and it does resonate with me as well. Especially right now when “a word after a word after a word” is exactly how I’m getting the work-in-progress and WALL series done — as discussed in the “mini update” two weeks ago.

I would probably add that the words need to be to some purpose, but I don’t think there’s any doubt of that in the case of either Margaret Atwood or Kate Forsyth. 😀

This quote does remind me of the very famous quote from Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching:

“The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”

I’ve often thought how apt this is in relation to writing books, which begin and end with a single word — but Margaret Atwood is quite right that the journey between the two is the business of “a word after a word after a word.”

And when they all hang together to good effect, i.e. they reach their final form of Coleridge’s “words in their best order”, then yep, there is a power in that — if only in the author’s heart and mind. 😉

Proof manuscript

Well, I mulled (as per my Happy New Year post) and I have decided on a theme for 2023 on Supernatural Underground (SU) — which as the title has doubtless already conveyed, is a closer look at the “band of brothers” in fantasy fiction.

Unfortunately I wasn’t in a good spot for loading blog posts on February 1, so postponed the initial post until Monday 6, but it’s definitely at the top o’ the SU masthead currently:

Honing In On 2023 — & Celebrating the “Band of Brothers” in Fantasy.

Tom Hiddleston as Henry V

I suspect the “happy few, we band of brothers” is a trope that could rightly be included in the Having Fun With Epic Fantasy post series — but its sibling, the “Scooby gang” is equally entrenched in the wider genre so a dedicated post series is probably justified. 😀

The Crows (Shadow and Bone)

Anyway, to find out more, just click on the link above and dive in. Enjoy!

Today being Waitangi Day, it seems very fitting to be posting on a book by Patricia Grace.

I have talked about her writing here before, including in several other Waitangi Day posts over the years — unsurprisingly given she is one of New Zealand’s most well-known authors.

The book I’m focusing on today is Dogside Story, but I have been an enthusiast for Patricia Grace’s writing since reading her first novel, Mutuwhenua: the Moon Sleeps. I loved both the story and storytelling, but one of the reasons it had a profound effect was my feeling that it was one of the first novels I had read that really spoke to me of a New Zealand I recognized.

Since then, I’ve read other novels by Patrica Grace, notably Potiki and Tu, but not Dogside Story, so I was pleased to have the opportunity when a friend recommended it to me.

Whanau (family and extended family) and community, specifically Maori communities, are the core of every Patricia Grace novel I’ve read, and this is the case with Dogside Story as well. The story centres on the parentage and custody of Kid (Kiri), a process that ends exposing family secrets, threatens to divide the whanau, and eventually involves the entire community.

It’s also a story of a small community struggling to survive, and of the new millennium—but it’s heart is the people, not just the central characters, but all the people that comprise the Dogside whanau. By the way, if you’re wondering “why Dogside?”, readers quickly learn there are two connected whanau, one nicknamed “Godside”, the other “Dogside” — but this book is a Dogside story. 😀

The main point-of-view character is Rua, Kid’s father. Yet in many ways, I felt that real main character was the whanau itself, and the interwoven lives of all those affected by Kiri’s lineage and the custody dispute.

Dogside Story offers insight into the intricacies, strengths, and weaknesses of whanau and small Maori communities, although I suspect these can only be truly understood from the inside. Yet it’s also a very human story of love and grief, cruelty and generosity, division and healing, which connects to us all.

I enjoyed Dogside Story and can understand why it’s a favourite in my friend’s library (if not the favourite) but I suspect Mutuwhenua will always hold first place in my heart—and it’s very hard to go past Tu. 😀

Whenever I post on a book I’ve enjoyed reading, I try and link it to works of like type, to offer  potential readers further insight into the kind of story being told. I found this challenging with Dogside Story, because the work is so uniquely Patricia Grace and a story with deep roots in Aotearoa (New Zealand.) The only immediately obvious companions are Witi Ihmaera novels such as Whanau, Tangi, and Bulibasha.

However, after much consideration, I believe those who’ve enjoyed books such as Elena Ferrante’s My Brilliant Friend, with its focus on an impoverished, closeknit, but also fractious Italian community, or Barbara Kingsolver’s Prodigal Summer, which turns a similar lens on contemporary rural Appalachian communites, may also enjoy Dogside Story.

I read my friend’s copy, which is the mass market paperback edition, 301 pages, published by Penguin Books NZ in 2001.

Marion Drolsbach

On January 19, I commenced a mini post series featuring photos by Marion Drolsbach, The Heir of Night’s Dutch translator, taken on a recent visit to NZ.

We got to spend some time together, which was great, and these particular photos were taken at the mouth of one of Canterbury’s braided rivers.

It’s a favoured spot of mine, and one of the things I particularly like about it is the bird life. In that spirit, today’s photo is of a shore wading bird, the pied stilt.

Enjoy!

Pied stilt: Photo Credit — Marion Drolsbach

Marching on…

“Mini” because basically ’tis very short! The guts is that I’m still writing, still wrangling with muses and manuscript, and still in the “final boss fight and aftermath” stage, so although things are definitely happening I’m not at the tangible news stage yet.

As soon as I am, though, you can be sure I’ll report it here.

Otherwise it’s a case of head down and keep going. To paraphrase a Zen aphorism (which I believe may be Confucian in origin):

“The writing is easy: keep going; the writing is hard: keep going. Keep going!”

So on that note, I shall hie me to the writing desk in the metaphorical high tower, and write on!

Art Credit: PJ Fitzpatrick

Recently, author Kate Forsyth was asked how long it took her to write a book. This is her answer:

“It depends on the length of the book & on what challenges are thrown up by each story … One of my books took thirty years of writing, re-writing, discarding it, resurrecting it, re-writing it again…”

Needless to say I found this immensely reassuring, at the same time as I was thinking, “thirty years: wow!” Then again, the WALL world has been with me for at least that long (in fact, it’s longer), but I didn’t embark on writing it until years later.

Two Mondays ago, I posted on the book booty that came my way over the holiday break, including Haruki Murakami’s Novelist As A Vocation.

Unfortunately I haven’t yet had a chance to dip further into the book’s series of collected essays, but the whole notion of writing as vocation put me in mind of some reflections that I posted some years ago — and am revisiting today.

On Writing As A Vocation

In 2010, Zadie Smith published her Rules for Writers in The Guardian newspaper, one of which was:

“Don’t romanticise your ‘vocation.’ You can either write good sentences or you can’t. There is no ‘writer’s lifestyle.’ All that matters is what you leave on the page.”

I completely agree that in terms of writing, all that matters is what you leave on the page. And certainly there is no one writer’s lifestyle—the lifestyles will be as diverse as the writers themselves. I also agree that it does aspiring writers no favours to romanticize the art.

….inside the writing life…

However, I do believe that writing is a vocation. A vocation, deriving from the Latin vocare, to call, is by definition something one feels called upon to do. Traditionally, the implication was of divine calling, for example, to a  religious life.

Dedicated pursuit of any occupation that is as artistically and economically uncertain as writing can only be regarded as a vocation—something the writer feels called upon to do. And my own experience of consistently waking up at nights, haunted by the recurring: “Why aren’t you writing? You should be writing!” is certainly in the nature of a “calling” or “summons”, whether one chooses to regard the source as an external muse or inner creative drive.

Photo credit: Andi Buchanan

I think such callings contain an element of mystery, but not necessarily one that is restricted to creative occupations: I have met  people who feel equally called—or compelled—to practice medicine, to teach, and to cook, for example.  In acknowledging that sense of vocation in relation to writing, one is no more romanticizing one’s pursuit and practice of the art, than a doctor or nurse, teacher or chef, would be.

Nonetheless, I have experienced the process of writing as “mystery.” Mostly, as has been famously said, although the creative process needs inspiration, the bulk of what follows is perspiration, ie sheer hard work. But there are still transcendent moments: e.g. when an impossible plot conundrum suddenly falls into place; when a detail that seemed small in Book 1 suddenly becomes vital in Book 3 or 4; when you alter your original idea to remain true to the way a character has developed—and simultaneously illuminate previously obscure motivations and behaviours. Sometimes, too, the mystery can be as simple as why a name change alters not only the character but also their part in the story.

More hard work, than romance.

I suspect many of those practicing other occupations, such as the medical practitioners, the teachers, and the chefs, can point to similar experiences: the “eureka” moments that are often the source of breakthroughs in skill, learning, or knowledge.  My own experience suggests that wherever there is inspiration, hard work, and creativity, there will also be “mystery.” And to the extent that breakthroughs and eureka moments are serendipitous and exciting and amazing, I think it’s OK to romanticize a little–while still keeping one’s feet firmly on the ground.

Because Zadie Smith is still 100% right: no matter how hard one may work or how many moments of mystery one may experience, in terms of the writing, all that counts, in the end, is what is left on the page.

It’s always one word & one page at a time…

Some of those other matters may still matter a great deal, of course, in terms of the satisfaction in living one’s own life well, regardless of the writing outcome—but that’s another matter entirely.

“The Heir of Night” :– Morningstar Award