Welcome to The Spinoff Books Confessional, in which we get to know the reading habits of Aotearoa writers, and guests. This week: author of That Was Not My Intention, Frances Pavletich.
The book I wish I’d written
Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn. The twist is masterful. But I also love the way she writes her women – they are selfish and spiteful and terrifying. I think we focus too much on morality when we judge characters. The point should not be likability.
The book everyone should read
My Great Arab Melancholy by Lamia Ziadé. It blends illustration with memoir and research to create a story of the modern Arab world. Her narrative approach is both very personal as well as a collective history – it is hard to pin down exactly, but the book is almost a cross between a graphic novel and a travelogue. Everyone should also read: Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar, Alphabetical Diaries by Sheila Heti, 100 Boyfriends by Brontez Purnell, Bluets by Maggie Nelson and King Kong Theory by Virginie Despentes.
The book I want to be buried with
I told my husband I didn’t want to be buried with a book and he told me to stop being boring. So I will say anything by Louise Erdrich. There is a humanity to her work that feels unparalleled.
The book that make me laugh
A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole. An ex recommended it to me and it is still one of the funniest books I have ever read. Unfortunately Kennedy Toole died by suicide before it was published so would never see what a cultural staple it became.
The book character I never believed
Melissa from Sally Rooney’s Conversation with Friends. Show me a 36-year-old wife who would be OK with her husband sleeping with an obnoxious 21-year-old because he is feeling sad. I find a lot of her characters to be overly understanding about poor male behaviour and it makes me feel like she must have had a serious masochistic streak when she was younger. I wish her women were a little more angry.
Greatest New Zealand book
Nothing to See by Pip Adam. That book fucked me up. I remember walking into the lounge where another friend who had read it was sitting and was like what just happened and he was like I know. Or $30 Meat Pack by Richard Meros which is a satirical correspondence between Richard Meros and Creative New Zealand. It is a particularly satisfying read in a country that just spent $2.6b buying helicopters for the military, but in the 2026 Budget, the government allocated $460m for Arts, Culture and Heritage. A lot of people in this country openly loathe the arts. It is really embarrassing.
Greatest New Zealand writer
There are a lot of great New Zealand writers. I love Saraid de Silva’s Amma, Talia Marshall’s Whaea Blue, Dominic Hoey’s Poor People With Money, anything by Tusiata Avia or Josiah Morgan or Ruby Macomber or Nathan Joe or Jordan Hamel or Brannavan Gnanalingam.
The book that haunts me
A lot of books haunt me. Three Women by Lisa Taddeo sticks with me. So does The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy and On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong. I love everything by Rachel Cusk.
If I could only read three books for the rest of my life they would be
The Chronology of Water by Lidia Yuknavitch, Agua Viva by Clarice Lispector, and Every Fire You Tend by Sema Kaygusuz. The way each of these writers uses language is so beautiful to me.
Encounter with an author
pip adam came into the bookshop when I was working and I kept wanting to tell her how much I loved her work but didn’t want to be weird. My eftpos was also down and so she did a direct deposit and gave me more than the total cost of the books. I am such a fan girl.
Best thing about reading
Getting out of your own story. I feel like we are overly encouraged to investigate our own lives and sometimes I think we would be happier if we decentered our experiences. Also reading requires slowing down and I hate being on my phone.
Best place to read
The train.
What I’m reading right now
Wave: Life and Memories after the Tsunami by Sonali Deraniyagala which is a memoir about a woman who lost her husband, two sons, her parents, and her best friend in the 2004 Boxing Day Tsunami. At one point she starts haunting a Dutch family who is living in her parent’s house and writes about her dead husband: At times I was mad at Steve. Why don’t you go to the house for a change, Steve. You can rattle their beds and yowl through the windows and send them packing. Having me do the dirty work as usual. Why do I have to be the fucking ghost? The book is heartbreaking, but also has these threads of comedic genius.
That Was Not My Intention by Frances Pavletich ($30, Lawrence & Gibson) is available to purchase from Unity Books.



