Welcome to The Spinoff Books Confessional, in which we get to know the reading habits of Aotearoa writers, and guests. This week: David Hill, author of Stepping Up.

The book I wish I’d written

Going West, by Maurice Gee. For me, Gee, along with Fiona Kidman, is/are our most consummate analysts of New Zealand life. In Going West, narrator Jack Skeats’ life story brings us friendship, stoicism, the nature of writing, the classes of NZ society (and don’t tell me we have none), stoicism, and those occasional jolting, flaring moments of violence that Gee rendered so inexorably. And it’s all done with near-perfect pace and pitch.

Everyone should read

Anything written by Tessa Hadley. The English novelist is one of those quiet recorders of unassuming middle-class lives loaded with events and moments that make you exclaim out loud. She’s mistress of endings that leave you with your mouth flopped open at the modest, cleaving brilliance of what she’s just done. How’s that for a teaser?

The book I want to be buried with

Any of the photo albums that show me and my wife Beth during the 43 years I’ve been writing full time. She’s been a critic, a source of characters and incidents from her high school teacher life (and outside), a financial support, a sensible reassurance on the July Tuesdays when I know I’m writing crap, an unfailing believer in all ways. I may delete the photos that show me with my mouth hanging open.

Utopia or dystopia

Is there a difference? The second seems inclined to morph into the first. As someone who writes a lot for kids and teenagers, I do feel inclined to veer towards the more optimistic in my narratives. But I also tend to include a fair number of challenging / troubling / disturbing aspects, always with the indication that the young protagonists are capable of handling them. I want my young readers to feel empowered by the story.

Fiction or nonfiction

I like to read and (try to) write both. I’m always fascinated by fiction writers who dismiss non-fiction as ”essentially journalism … not really employing the creative brain”. What bullshit (that’s a nonfiction term). Good nonfiction can be as inventive and emotionally moving as good fiction. For me, writing fiction develops skills I can transfer to nonfiction, and vice-versa.

It’s a crime against language to

Write like Jeffrey Archer. I should leave it there, but if you want to inflict on yourself the ultimate in smugness, snobbery, cardboard characters, dog-eared plots and a sense the whole thing is written by a robot in a Saville Row suit, Jeff’s your man.

The book I never admit I’ve read

Anything by Jeffrey Archer. This time, I will leave it there. Oh, and when I was a teenager, I seem to remember reading Playboy for the essays. Oh, and I did read a Jilly Cooper once, and found I rather liked it. Oh, and I also read a Dan Brown, but didn’t like him at all. I’ll stop now.

The plot change I would make

Late in the 17th century, Nahum Tate (Pope pilloried him in The Dunciad), rewrote the ending of King Lear, so that Cordelia survives and marries Edgar, while Lear regains his throne. His version held the stage for 150 years. It’s been ridiculed and dismissed ever since, but confess – who hasn’t secretly wished that the agony, the catharsis of the play could be a little less … bowel-tearing?

Encounter with an author

I’ll mention two. Decades back, I wrote a small booklet for high schools called Introducing Maurice Gee. I corresponded with Maurice a lot (we’re talking about the era of letters in envelopes with stamps), and he was unfailingly helpful, supportive, modest. When I met him a year or so later, he thanked me for writing about him. He thanked me for one of the greatest writing privileges I’ve had.

Second, UK novelist and screenwriter Melvyn Bragg (now Baron Bragg, which does sound like a name out of a kids’ fantasy book). Again decades back, I was preliminary judge of a short story competition. Bragg was the final judge, using my shortlist. He was flown out to NZ for the award evening, and wanted to meet me to discuss his choice. I waited in the foyer of a pretty posh Wellington hotel, till he glided out of the lift, and came towards me, charm wafting from every pore. We talked (he made it easy); then in a chauffeur-driven Mercedes, we were whirred across Wellington to the awards venue. He purred on about books and travel. I tried to catch the eyes of passing pedestrians so they could see I was in a Mercedes with Melvyn Bragg. 

Best thing about reading

You’re never alone. You’re never idle. Some people see reading as passive. Rubbish: it’s both mentally and physically stimulating. You’re never bereft of a purposeful activity.

Best place to read

I have multiple favourites. In bed with two cups of tea first thing in the morning. In bed with no cups of tea (I have an 83-year-old’s bladder) at night. In the car while Beth does the supermarket shopping. At the dining room table. Hell – anywhere. That’s another of the great things about the activity.

The book character I identify with most

Almost every protagonist of almost every novel I’ve written for kids. They all have bits of me (and our son Pete, and our grandsons Patrick and Owen, and kids I taught, and friends from all sorts of places and times) in them. Usually the protagonist makes some of the mistakes I made, but ends up doing something better than I ever did. Yes, writing as wish fulfilment.

Stepping up by David Hill ($22, Penguin) is available to purchase from Unity Books.