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The Luminaries is a tale of lies and deceit, fraud and vengeance, set amongst the goldfields of Western New Zealand in the 1860s. It was a time when men had dreams of getting rich very quickly based as much on luck as on hard work. But just as some are content to rely on the odds, others are willing to change the odds in their favour by nefarious means. So when Walter Moody, a recent Scottish émigré, accidentally gatecrashes a clandestine meeting of twelve local businessmen, he is drawn into their various shady dealings. There is gold lost and found; a missing man; a dead drunk; a suicidal prostitute and a very sinister, scar-faced sea captain. There are tensions between the white settlers and the Chinese camp. Oh, and there is a token Maori. The writing, for the most part, is really good. The setting is conveyed well and the reader feels fully transported through space and time into a complex and authentic world. But, and it's a big But, the involvement of so many players makes the novel far too complicated and grinds the pace down to a glacial speed. Every player has to have a relationship with each of the other players, resulting in many events being played out multiple times from multiple perspectives. Moreover, the use of reportage to create a non-linear time structure heightens the feeling of repetition. When it seems that the novel has finally moved on, it gets brought back again and again and again. The twelve main characters are supposed to represent different signs of the zodiac and perhaps those who like astrology would recognise their traits and interactions. But for the lay reader, the characters seem rather indistinguishable and, frankly, not much more than a personification of their job. The novel may be long (830ish pages) but is so full of plotting that there is little real space for characterisation. This can result in people forming alliances or breaking pacts for no obvious reason. We find out what people do, but have little insight into why they do them. OK, some of the main players (apparently the planetary and terra firma characters) have some slight backstory, but the others (the stellar ones) simply are as they are. The pace does pick up eventually - after about two thirds of the novel - but what is not apparent from the page count is that this is actually the denouement. The many subsequent sections seem to be some kind of zodiacal obligation telling the reader nothing new and presenting historical events that had already been inferred. Moreover, as the sections wend their way to an end, the brief introductions to the chapters (as one finds in Victorian novels) grow longer and start to carry information in their own right, leaving brief the body of the section to carry only snippets of mercurial dialogue. This really is not a satisfactory way to end a plot-driven novel of this length. I am sure there is a good story buried somewhere in The Luminaries. But just like the thin person struggling to emerge from every fat person, sometimes dieting in not enough and bariatric surgery is needed. ***00
Manuka is the story of Tom and Reuben, a couple of Australian chancers who set out for New Zealand to teach the locals how to break in horses. It’s set in the 1970s, but with the men finding themselves living out of swags in a remote camp, trying to clear the land of manuka scrub, it could have been at any point in the last 200 years. This short story starts out as a battle between the men and the elements – the cold seeping through the enclosed gorge is a far cry from the hot and open plains of Australia – but soon becomes a battle between the men and their own minds. Isolated from all external intervention, seemingly abandoned by the farm owner, they have to deal with a hopeless situation by whatever means come to hand. For a short story, the pace is slow. The focus is on the descriptive, creating the setting and atmosphere. It is claustrophobic and dark. The threats and perils build slowly but are real. The story concentrates on the two men as people rather than as actions and deeds. The result, at the end, is a memorable piece of writing that feels bigger than the sum of its parts. The story opens with the statement that it was written in prison in 1976. This was a strange and enigmatic preface and pairs with a similarly mercurial coda. On first reading, this gave the impression of creating a fussiness that was not needed. But on reflection, it leaves the reader wondering… *****