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Image: Tina Tiller
Image: Tina Tiller

BooksAugust 4, 2023

The Unity Books bestseller chart for the week ending August 4

Image: Tina Tiller
Image: Tina Tiller

The only published and available best-selling indie book chart in New Zealand is the top 10 sales list recorded every week at Unity Books’ stores in High St, Auckland, and Willis St, Wellington.

AUCKLAND

1 One of Them by Shaneel Lal (Allen & Unwin, $37)

In his review of this memoir by 23-year-old Lal, Sam Brooks says: “The value of stories like these are not necessarily how they’re told, but how they’re platformed. Lal’s experience is individual, of course, but phrases that reveal them reflecting, even as a young child, that they ‘do not have the canvas of a Pacific person’ hit close to the bone. The queer experience is not monolithic – but the experience of being alienated not just from your society, from your family, from social structures in general, but from your own sense of self is something very easy to relate to, and Lal is an especially precise chronicler of their own experience here.” Read the full review here.

2 Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan (Faber & Faber, $25)

Irish writers are having a hell of a run. This week’s Booker Prize longlist announcement revealed four writers in the hot spots. Keegan is among the best of the best and so it’s no surprise to see this perfect story back in the list.

3 Yellowface by Rebecca F. Kuang (Picador, $35)

The oft-impeccable Kirkus Reviews has this to say: “At times, the novel feels so much like a social media feed that it’s impossible to stop reading – what new drama is waiting to unfold. and who will win out in the end? An incredibly meta novel, with commentary on everything from trade reviews to Twitter, the ultimate message is clear from the start, which can lead to a lack of nuance. Kuang, however, does manage to leave some questions unanswered: fodder, perhaps, for a new tweetstorm. A quick, biting critique of the publishing industry.”

4 Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver (Faber & Faber, $28)

The David Copperfield retelling and winner of all the fiction prizes is resting satisfied in a very respectable spot.

5 American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer by Kai Bird & Martin J. Sherwin (Atlantic Books, $33)

Where’s the biography of Barbie, though?

6 Crook Manifesto by Colson Whitehead (Fleet, $38)

By all accounts another masterpiece from the master. The Guardian summarised their view, thusly: “Crook Manifesto continues the brilliantly realised sequence that began with Harlem Shuffle, intricately depicting cultural history and family drama with the compelling energy of a crime thriller and the sharp wit of social satire. Harlem itself is one of the lead characters, and there are echoes of other chroniclers of this burg such as James Baldwin and Chester Himes. In ambition and scope, in the way the intimate is so deftly weaved with the epic, one is also reminded of Balzac. Whitehead has embarked on a great comédie humaine of his own.”

7 The Creative Act: A Way of Being by Rick Rubin (Canongate, $50)

Creeping its way back up the list, is the cloth-bound beauty from creative ole Rubin.

8 The Bookseller at the End of the World by Ruth Shaw (Allen & Unwin, $39)

Delightful! Makes one’s morning to see this Aotearoa memoir back among the top ten. Highly recommend any time, anywhere.

9 Tom Lake by Ann Patchett (Bloomsbury, $35)

Oh she’s great. Patchett is a writer’s writer and if Tom Lake is remotely close to the brilliance of The Dutch House, we’re away. Rather love this snippet from the New York Times review: “Like some guardian angel in the sky, Anton Chekhov hovers over this story, which features three sisters in their 20s and is set on their parents’ cherry orchard (albeit in northern Michigan during the recent pandemic, not the tuberculosis-torn Russian provinces). But Thornton Wilder is driving the tractor.”

10 Your Name is not Anxious: A Very Personal Guide to Putting Anxiety in its Place by Stephanie Dowrick (Allen & Unwin, $33)

A new book about an old plague.

WELLINGTON

1 Lioness by Emily Perkins (Bloomsbury, $37)

A tremendously rich novel from one of our greats. Books editor Claire Mabey got properly immersed in its magic, in this rave review, right here.

2 Tom Lake by Ann Patchett (Bloomsbury, $35)

3 Fungi of Aotearoa: A Curious Forager’s Field Guide by Liv Sissons (Penguin, $45)

The luminous blue still has the magic!

4 Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver (Faber, $28)

5 American Prometheus: The Triumph & Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer by Kai Bird & Martin J Sherwin (Atlantic, $33)

6 Yellowface by Rebecca Kuang (Borough Press, $35)

7 Pax: War & Peace in Rome’s Golden Age by Tom Holland (Abacus, $40)

The Rest is History is one of the most popular history podcasts of our time, and its co-host, historian Tom Holland, is also an extremely popular author. Of Pax, The Times says: “He has a novelist’s vibrant writing style and turns a good phrase. Familiar elements of this period, such as the destruction of Pompeii, still feel fresh in his retelling and he avoids the temptation of so many joyless modern classicists to moralise about what rotters these Romans were with their slavery and their bloodshed and their lack of a proper safeguarding mission statement. He judges them purely by their own values.”

8 We Need to Talk About Norman by Denis Welch (Quentin Wilson Publishing, $40)

Journalist Denis Welch’s book on former prime minister Norman Kirk is an attempt to: “recover what Norman Kirk stood for – a sense of government with a clear moral purpose, in which there is daylight between public service and the commercial world.” A very well-timed publication as we head into the whirlwind of this year’s election.

9 Pet by Catherine Chidgey (Te Herenga Waka University Press, hardback $50, paperback $38)

Not a day goes by that we don’t see a rave about Pet from one publication or another. Like this one from the Financial Times (UK) which concludes: “Outside of New Zealand, Chidgey is not as well known as she should be. One hopes that this chilling tale of childhood vulnerability and violence might change that.”

10 One of Them by Shaneel Lal (Allen & Unwin, $37)

Keep going!
(Image: Archi Banal)
(Image: Archi Banal)

BooksAugust 3, 2023

Diary of an activist: a review of One of Them

(Image: Archi Banal)
(Image: Archi Banal)

Sam Brooks reviews the new memoir by Shaneel Lal.

If you’re reading The Spinoff, you’ve probably heard of Shaneel Lal. If you haven’t read the writing of the “activist, writer, model and Young New Zealander of the Year” on our site, then you’ll at least be aware of their work as the cofounder of the Conversion Therapy Action Group, one of the most prominent forces behind the nationwide movement to ban conversion therapy, or from their column in the Herald on Sunday. They’re well-known enough, by this point, that they might have been granted that rare New Zealand honour: the mononym.

So it’s not surprising that, even though they’re only 23, they have written a memoir. Not only is Lal’s upbringing as a queer teen in Fiji – living through the trauma of being an outcast from their society and the torture of conversion therapy – notable, but their story is intimately, even inextricably tied, to the passing of the Conversion Practices Prohibition Legislation Bill. Their memoir not only gives audiences a crucial insight into the lived reality of a queer person living in Fiji, but also offers an on-the-ground retelling of that bill’s journey.

Those are the obvious things to take away from One of Them, though. The less obvious ones, which Lal weaves in with varying levels of grace, are the struggles that they’ve come up against as a queer person of colour. Many passages, and even entire chapters, are devoted to the ways in which they’ve made waves with the things they’ve said – there’s an entire chapter about Lal running for My Gay New Zealand, and another about a debacle where GayExpress (now YourEx) targeted Lal for comments about white gays. This is complex territory, and although Lal has more experience navigating it than most, it’s refreshing to see it covered in print, rather than posted about on Instagram stories, overly florid Facebook books, and flash-in-the-pan opinion pieces that end up in the dustbins of people’s internet history.

Shaneel Lal (Photo: Nic Staveley)

The book’s unqualified success is in the early passages, where Lal is telling the story of their upbringing, essentially the “before I was famous”. They tell the story of being labelled as gay and feminine – a “chakka” – very early on in life, and how that defined, and redefined their relationship to their family, in tragic and awful ways. The experiences of queer people in Fiji are something that I, frankly, have very little knowledge about, and to get this window into it wasn’t just fascinating, but chilling. 

The value of stories like these are not necessarily how they’re told, but how they’re platformed. Lal’s experience is individual, of course, but phrases that reveal them reflecting, even as a young child, that they “do not have the canvas of a Pacific person” hit close to the bone. The queer experience is not monolithic – but the experience of being alienated not just from your society, from your family, from social structures in general, but from your own sense of self is something very easy to relate to, and Lal is an especially precise chronicler of their own experience here.

The opening passages of the book are so gripping that it’s no wonder the book loses momentum, and reach, the closer it gets to the present. The story of how the conversion therapy bill got passed is important, and it is interesting, but Lal talks more generally about that journey. The drama feels often third-hand, told through lengthy quotes from opinion pieces and interviews that Lal gave on TV: it can feel jarring when the story turns to Lal’s personal life, which ends up being infinitely more interesting, because it hasn’t been told before. Distance is the problem – neither Lal nor the reader necessarily has the distance from these events for them to be new information, so it often feels like retreading recently broken ground. If this story were to be told in a few years time, it might be easier for Lal to pick out which moments to prioritise, to put on the record, to intertwine with their own experience. So soon after the bill passed, everything feels equally important, and so it feels equally unimportant.

There’s an understandable defensiveness to the book, especially in that back half, where Lal finds their voice, and their ability to engage, persuasively, with systems and communities. In their 23 years, Lal has been the recipient of more hatred, online and in person, than most of us will ever encounter in a lifetime. No doubt they expected this book would lead to more hatred, likely from people who will never even read it. One defends when they expect to be attacked. Even so, it leads to passages where Lal is explaining their actions, explaining why they were right to think, speak or act in a certain way. It’s not that Lal is wrong, but it makes for an often dissonant reading experience: we’ve bought the book, we don’t need to be convinced of the author’s rightness, especially when those who actually read the book and engage with its rhetoric, are likely to agree, broadly, with Lal anyway.

It’s interesting, then, that the moments where the book really sings are when Lal puts their speeches on the page. The subtle distinction between their written voice – clipped, short sentences, building paragraphs brick by brick – and their oratory voice becomes extremely clear. When Lal speaks, as evidenced in several of their viral speeches, it’s like watching a skilled monologuist. It reminds you that speaking aloud, convincingly, is a skill, and not one that everybody possesses. There are volcanic ebbs and flows, a clear sense of how structure can be leaned into with vocal pyrotechnics, even of the subtle nature that Lal deploys. 

Lal is an effective writer, as shown in their Herald column: they’re able to cut to the heart of a chosen issue or controversy with the brevity and speed that literal paper inches require. They can also turn in some absolutely banger turns of phrase – “e hoa gays” is a label that will resonate with anybody who has seen an Instagram photo featuring six people with identical haircuts, body types, and friend groups leaning into the same frame, faces sucked in. But when that voice is spread over a pretty lean 279 pages, it can feel a little breathless, as though Lal can’t wait to get to the next sentence, the next event in their life. 

It’s perhaps telling that the last two pages of the book, where Lal is oldest, writing from the closest present to the future, are the best, and mostly richly written. One sentence feels like the exhale after the preceding couple hundred pages: “I do not have a sense of self, independent of the movement.” It shows their maturity, their willingness to reflect, and maybe even the willingness to pause.

Ironically, perhaps actually fittingly, One of Them ends up reading probably how it should: the diary of a 23-year-old with a very visible, very active public life, trying to balance and properly value their own inner life.

One of Them by Shaneel Lal (Allen & Unwin NZ $37) can be purchased from Unity Books Wellington and Auckland.