The book at the centre of the strange case of a rejected review.
The book at the centre of the strange case of a rejected review.

BooksOctober 3, 2024

The NZ journal that commissioned then spiked a critical review of its co-editor’s book

The book at the centre of the strange case of a rejected review.
The book at the centre of the strange case of a rejected review.

Is the New Zealand academic community too small for critical reviews? 

Writer and historian Kerryn Pollock was initially surprised to be commissioned by the New Zealand Journal of History (NZJH) to review The Best Country to Give Birth? Midwifery, Homebirth and the Politics of Maternity in Aotearoa New Zealand, 1970-2022 by Linda Bryder, but was even more surprised when her review was then rejected by the journal on the grounds of legal risk. Pollock was especially alarmed given the co-editor of the journal is Linda Bryder herself. 

Bryder’s book was published in November 2023 by Auckland University Press. The Best Country to Give Birth is Bryder’s fourth publication with the press, including the 2009 book, A History of the ‘Unfortunate Experiment’ at National Women’s Hospital, which was vehemently debated at the time it was released. 

Pollock was commissioned by the NZJH’s reviews editor David Littlewood to review Bryder’s book because, though maternity was not her area of interest, Pollock wrote the entry on Pregnancy, Birth and Baby Care for the online encyclopedia, Te Ara, so was somewhat familiar with the broader subject. 

However, when Pollock submitted her work, she was informed by the co-editor of NZJH, Dr Lyndon Fraser, that her review couldn’t be published because it posed a threat of “possible legal action” against the journal, and they (the NZJH) had to ensure that “standards are maintained”. Fraser explained that his and Littlewood’s reasons were that Pollock’s review was “unfair and inaccurate” and at times “read like a personal attack on the writer”. 

In response, Pollock denied that her review was in any way unfair or inaccurate or that it personally attacked Bryder. She agreed that the review was critical but noted that it is a reviewer’s prerogative to take a critical approach when warranted. Pollock voiced her own surprise at being asked to review the book in the first place, listing other writers with more interest in the topic who she’d have expected to review it instead. When Pollock asked Fraser how the review was legally risky, she didn’t receive a reply. It was not specified where, or who, the suggested legal threat could come from.

In signing off her email, Pollock stood by her review despite predicting the outcome. “I knew NZJH would be unlikely to publish my review but I couldn’t in good conscience have written anything else.”

Pollock’s review of Bryder’s book was not the only one to be critical. In the Social History of Medicine Journal, Volume XX, former CEO of the College of Midwives, Karen Guililand, begins her appraisal with this: “Bryder’s perspective of the New Zealand (NZ) environment leading up to and following the 1990 Nurses Amendment Act that recognised midwifery as an autonomous profession is deeply flawed and challenging. Bryder’s referencing of documents recording the decades of political changes to maternity services is vast. However, it is the revisionist analyses and omissions that makes it difficult reading.”

It’s unclear why Pollock was asked to review Bryder’s book, and is equally unclear why a review of it was commissioned at all given Bryder’s position as co-editor of NZJH. Reviews editor Littlewood told The Spinoff that as the NZJH is published by the University of Auckland it is subject to the University’s conflict of interest policy, but didn’t respond to questions about how that policy was applied in this scenario. The Spinoff does not know whether Pollock’s review would have been published if it was glowing rather than critical.

The Spinoff understands that former contributors to the NZJH are disturbed by Pollock’s experience and considering withdrawing reviews from the publication, or refusing to review for NZJH altogether. 

New Zealand is a notoriously difficult country to produce critical responses to any text, art work or performance. It’s practically impossible to find reviewers who aren’t conflicted or who are willing to risk potentially frequent awkward encounters (or even personal and direct admonishments) should their appraisal be critical. 

However, by and large the assumption has been that the academic realm at least upholds, and is built to thrive on, critical response. 

Pollock’s review of Bryder’s book as submitted to NZJH, is printed in full below.

Note: a review is, by its nature, the reviewer’s opinion.

The Best Country to Give Birth? Midwifery, Homebirth and the Politics of Maternity in Aotearoa New Zealand, 1970-2022 by Linda Bryder, reviewed by Kerryn Pollock

Maternity and childbirth are personal and political. Historian of medicine Linda Bryder begins The Best Country to Give Birth? with a coronial inquest into the death of two babies during birth in 2012, a highly public legal exploration of personal tragedy. This sets the tone of her book. The author acknowledges that she is dealing with “a highly politicised area of healthcare…in which the stakes are high” (p.4). This is not, however, a detached, dispassionate study. Bryder is highly critical of New Zealand’s midwifery-led maternity system, instituted by the Nurses Amendment Act 1990. While she is careful to note that most births “proceed without mishaps” (p.4), there’s an inference of a correlation between avoidable adverse and tragic outcomes and the primacy of midwives. Bryder infuses her critique with a cumulative antipathy towards leading midwifery figures and the influence of the women’s liberation movement in the two decades leading up to the law change.

The first five chapters are contextual. A few pages of chapter one traverse the shift from predominantly home births in the nineteenth and early twentieth century to majority hospital births from the 1930s; improvements in birth hygiene practices; technological developments; and maternity care training. After a brief mention of the decline in maternity mortality from the 1930s, the focus shifts to the rise of modern midwives and the influence of the feminist- and counter culture-driven home birth movement. Bryder’s thesis is that a minority movement underpinned by anti-establishment values co-opted New Zealand’s maternity system.

While there is no disputing the change from general practitioner to midwife-led care, which bears the imprint of vigorous feminism, Bryder’s narrative is threaded with an almost conspiratorial tone. Chapter one ends with a dramatic promise to “reveal” how New Zealand’s small group of home birth practitioners of the 1970s were “part of a powerful international movement” (p.29). Trans-national relationships forged between local midwives and their counterparts overseas are suspect. New Zealand is described as “an attractive destination [on] the international circuit for campaigners” (p.46). Visits by midwife Ina May Gaskin, obstetrician Michael Odent, social anthropologist Shelia Kitzinger and the World Health Organisation’s Marsden Wagner, are looked upon askance. “The homebirth movement had gained some powerful international allies” (p.47) as a stand-alone sentence is innocuous enough, but in the context of this book it reads as if a cabal of women made unholy alliances. Another interpretation is that they were simply acting like all participants in successful social movements, making international connections. While the experts cited above are not immune from criticism, neither are they fringe-dwellers that inherently warrant suspicion.

The counter-cultural practices of home birth midwives are excellent fodder for Bryder. Their penchant for living in communes (including the now-notorious Centrepoint), eschewing alcohol and cigarettes for marijuana, prescribing raspberry leaf tea, blackstrap molasses and homeopathic remedies, and holding anti-vaccination views are rightly traversed. It would be remiss not to explore the lifestyle choices, values and beliefs of home birth practitioners, some of which are highly problematic (e.g. vaccine denial). It is however, necessary to articulate that such practices and views did not, aside from alcohol and tobacco, gain mainstream traction, which Bryder does not do, though she correctly points out that home birth did not take off as its practitioners assumed it would. This demonstrates the importance of not overstating, even implicitly,  the influence of counter-cultural practices on New Zealand’s maternity system. 

A curious feature of Bryder’s work, which also marked her revisionist account of the ‘Unfortunate Experiment’, is the absence of oral history interviews. Many of the midwives who feature in this book, and whose published and unpublished work is used as source material, are still alive, and some remain active in their profession or allied fields. It is difficult to understand why they were not interviewed, at the very least as a courtesy. Joan Donley (1916–2005), a critical figure in New Zealand midwifery, is correctly singled out but in an almost demonising fashion. Donley was clearly an energetic, dynamic woman with phenomenal organising abilities. Bryder’s use of words and phrases such as “orchestrated” (pp.89, 111), “exhorted” (p.94) and ”very determined, persistent and effective campaign”, while encapsulating the necessarily robust tactics of political movements, leave the reader feeling as if the raspberry leaf-wielding Donley was possessed of occult powers, such that she swayed the influential politicians Marilyn Waring and Helen Clark to her cause. 

The book’s overall tenor is that midwife-led maternity care has compromised the safety of mothers and most particularly, babies, even if Bryder is careful not to make such bald statements. She makes extensive use of coronial inquests to support her thesis. This qualitative information, along with the quantitative evidence derived from Perinatal and Maternity Mortality Review Committee reports, is not situated within a wider context. Readers are not provided with a baseline analysis of maternal and infant mortality trends prior to 1990, data issues acknowledged. There is no comparative information from inquests and disciplinary investigations into other health service-related avoidable deaths or injury. Midwifery cases are treated in unhelpful and unjust isolation. Context is critical, especially when working with delicate subject matter. While Bryder has provided a usefully detailed exploration of the recent history of maternity and birth in New Zealand, The Best Country to Give Birth? is simply another voice in the “maternity row” recounted on the first page.

Keep going!
Damien Wilkins’ life in books. (Image: Tina Tiller)
Damien Wilkins’ life in books. (Image: Tina Tiller)

BooksOctober 2, 2024

‘Maybe she was just messing with me’: When Damien Wilkins met Janet Frame

Damien Wilkins’ life in books. (Image: Tina Tiller)
Damien Wilkins’ life in books. (Image: Tina Tiller)

Welcome to The Spinoff Books Confessional, in which we get to know the reading habits of Aotearoa writers, and guests. This week: Damien Wilkins, author of 14 books, the latest of which is Delirious

The book I wish I’d written

That They Might Face the Rising Sun by John McGahern. This was published in the US under the title By the Lake, which is accurate enough since the novel takes place by a lake in rural Ireland. It’s a sort of holy grail for some of us to write a novel without a central human character or even a plot. I think this is what a frustrated Katherine Mansfield meant when she wrote about hoping to create something freer than her “little” stories, which she thought were like “birds bred in cages”. How to disappear the cage?

McGahern’s masterpiece is about an isolated farming community, home to locals but also to escapees from city life. The seasons are observed, neighbours bump into each other laconically, the same patterns repeat with small and telling variations. I found the book almost unbearably poignant and writing this makes me long to be inside its world again. The older I get, the more Irish I feel. My maternal grandfather, to whom we were very close, visited his grandparents’ house in Ireland when he was on leave from ambulance driving in France in World War One. He saw the bed his own mother was conceived in. The room had a dirt floor. All of that is also somehow tied up now in my reading when I come to Irish writers such as McGahern or Dermot Healy or Anne Enright or Sebastian Barry. 

Everyone should read

All Aunt Hagar’s Children by Edward P. Jones because Jones’ terrific novel The Known World is the one more people have heard of – it was voted number four on the New York Times list of the Best Books of the 21st Century. No one should miss this great book of short stories (#70 on that same list). All the stories are set in and around Washington D.C., cataloguing Black lives across the decades. There’s plenty of history to be learned or to be reminded of but it’s the astonishing imaginative range of Jones’ storytelling which makes this exciting and special. 

The book that haunts me

Correction by Thomas Bernhard. I read all of Bernhard in my 20s, including his amazing autobiographical collection Gathering Evidence where he writes about his childhood through the years of the Second World War and his hospitalisation with tuberculosis. His fiction tends to be free of paragraph breaks or really any relief whatsoever. The intense, monologuing narrators, in pursuit of all forms of stupidity and hypocrisy (especially in his native Austria, where Bernhard is loved and reviled), go on and on. These books might be more of a young man’s thing! Correction, for some reason, physically frightened me. The story is about a man who obsessively designs a weird house for his sister, the only person he loves, and it kills her. Ludwig Wittgenstein, whom Bernhard revered, also designed a weird house for his sister. 

From left to right: the book Damien Wilkins’ wishes he’d written; the book we should all read; and the book that haunts him.

The book that made me cry

The great novels of the 19th century and early 20th always get me: Wuthering Heights, Middlemarch, The House of Mirth. And then a store of heartbreaking poetry: Thomas Hardy, Bill Manhire, Anne Carson of ‘The Glass Essay’, Louise Glück of Meadowlands.

The book that made me laugh

Waters of Thirst by Adam Mars-Jones is one of my favourite English novels. Set in 1977, it’s short, hilarious and about AIDS. Mars-Jones’ later short books are also definitely worth tracking down: Box Hill, Kid Gloves and Batlava Lake

Encounter with an author

One time I ended up standing next to Janet Frame at a Writers Week event in the Michael Fowler Centre. I’d introduced myself earlier but we didn’t know each other. A young woman came up to Janet and asked to have her book signed and Janet looked astonished and said, “Oh, really? But I don’t have a pen.” For some reason I had a pen and I gave it to Janet. Then there was an awkward moment when Janet looked at the book the woman had given her and back at the woman. She was trying to work out how to sign the book in mid-air. Finally, Janet gestured that the woman should turn around. Janet placed the book on the woman’s back and signed it. How strange, I thought, that Janet Frame was doing this next to me. How brilliant! While she was signing, Janet gave me a mischievous look and said, “This reminds me of that moment in the Saul Bellow story.” Now I’d reviewed a book of Bellow’s short novels the week before in the Listener. Had Janet read the review? Was this some sort of test, an invitation to connect? But I couldn’t think of any moment in Bellow where something similar happens. I stammered some sort of reply, “I’m sorry, I can’t  . . . ” Janet just smiled, gave the woman her book and was gone. That’s haunted me ever since. Which Bellow story? It’s not the sort of thing Janet Frame would get wrong. Maybe one day I’ll find it. Maybe she was just messing with me.

From left to right: Damien Wilkins’ best Aotearoa book; his own latest novel; and what he’s reading right now.

Greatest New Zealand book

Faces in the Water by Janet Frame. The risk is that Frame’s courageous personal story is so well-known now, we might lose sight of her artistic genius. She loved language. This awe-inspiring fictionalising of her experience fixes that fact to the page for all time. I’d also vote for The Bone People in any list of great works of fiction from Aotearoa. I’m still waiting for a really good essay on Keri Hulme. Like Frame, she’s a bit obscured by piety. 

Best thing about reading

It appears unproductive. Lots of people are still suspicious of it. These tend to be the people behind any cuts to public libraries. I wouldn’t be a writer without the Lower Hutt Public Library. 

I’m always recommending Reading for Life by Philip Davis. It’s a completely engrossing account of how a wide variety of readers interact with literary texts often in times of painful personal need. Davis set up the Centre for Research into Reading, Literature and Society at the University of Liverpool and partnered with the outreach charity The Reader to take literature to often neglected communities in the UK. Davis writes a brilliant set of character portraits and conveys the unlikely ways reading can be transformative. 

What are you reading right now

Springs of Affection by Maeve Brennan. More Irish stuff! Maeve Brennan’s book collects stories from the 1950s and 1960s, when she was a New Yorker writer. Brennan suffered from alcoholism and was frequently hospitalised later in her life. She apparently ended up sleeping in the New Yorker toilets and died out-of-print and out of sight in 1993. She’s now back in view. Most of these intense stories take place in the claustrophobic rooms of Dublin houses where trapped women describe their imprisonment. At this point someone recommending the book would say, “Despite this, these stories offer hope.” Not sure. They make you feel worried constantly. The title story is one of the greatest of the century. Anne Enright is a fan too: “. . . something lovely and unbearable is happening on the page.”

Delirious by Damien Wilkins ($38, Te Herenga Waka University Press) launches at Unity Books Wellington on October 17, and can be pre-ordered through Unity Books