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Image: Tina Tiller
Image: Tina Tiller

BooksAugust 27, 2023

Dice review: A harrowing, unforgettable debut novel

Image: Tina Tiller
Image: Tina Tiller

Sam Brooks reviews Dice by Claire Baylis, a gut-punching story about a jury deliberating on a sexual assault trial.

Dice by Claire Baylis (Allen & Unwin) has just won best first novel at the 2024 Ngaio Marsh awards. The news broke last night, August 28 2024, at WORD Christchurch which hosted the 15th annual awards ceremony for Aotearoa’s best crime, mystery, thriller, and suspense writing. Scotland-based DV Bishop scooped best novel for his Renaissance Florence-set mystery Ritual of Fire (Macmillan), and Wellington writer Jennifer Lane joined rare company by winning best kids/YA for smalltown mystery Miracle (Cloud Ink Press). Below is Sam Brooks’ review of Dice. 

Here’s a little insight into my process as a book reviewer: I take copious amounts of notes throughout, whether it’s jotting down my thoughts on a character, a development, a particularly notable turn of phrase, or transcribing a passage verbatim. If I have the luxury of a paper copy, I’ll dog-ear whole pages and sections that I want to refer back to. Most crucially, I try to read a book in one sitting, whether that’s at my desk, on my couch, or in varying modes of transit.

Dice, the debut novel from Claire Baylis, broke my process. I still took notes, of course. My copy is lightly dog-eared. But I absolutely could not read this book in one sitting. Just past the halfway point, I put the book down and decided to work on something else instead. It left me feeling viscerally ill. I felt heavy, like I’d eaten three dinners, but still had a full plate in front of me. I left the book on my desk and took almost two days to come back to it, which I never do with a book, review or otherwise.

This is, perhaps, the highest compliment that I can give Dice. You feel the weight of it. The novel follows the trial of four teenage boys accused of multiple sexual offences against three teenage girls, all stemming from the invention of a sex game based on the toss of a dice. The point of view characters, however, are the 12 jurors assigned to the case, and Baylis follows each of them as the three-week long trial unfolds, and, of course, as they deliberate.

There are two immediate reference points here. One is obviously 12 Angry Men, one of the best films of all time, and definitely the best to feature a cast of only 12 men. It’s not necessarily that Baylis’ novel follows the structure or even the tone of that film – she expands her world past that of the trial, giving us glimpses into the past, present and even future of each of the jurors, to further illuminate why they come to the conclusions that they come to. It’s simply just that 12 Angry Men is so great, so iconic, and so clearly the definitive “jury” story that it’s hard for any story that lives in this milieu not to sit a little languidly in its shadow.

The other, just as obviously, but more queasily, is the Roastbusters case. Hell, the very first sentence (“Jake added ‘Dice Bros’ to his search”) immediately stirred up memories of the coverage of that case. The saga barely needs any explanation, but for clarity’s sake: In 2013, a group of young men were accused of intoxicating underage girls to sexually assault them. After an 18 month investigation, no charges were laid due to a lack of evidence. The case was reopened in December 2020, with more complainants coming forward, and has yet to go to trial. (As an aside, Dice has been conceived, written and published before the Roastbusters story has come to a close. Let that sink in.)

Claire Baylis (right) with her debut novel, Dice.

Putting those comparisons aside, like distant relatives, Dice is one of the most assured debut novels I’ve read in some time. Baylis has clear control not only over her scenario, but is able to deploy and mould her voice to fit her diverse crew of jurors – a 19-year-old competitive swimmer, one of the only Māori in the room, feels as authentically rendered as the older busybody who rules her book club with a crocheted iron fist. More impressively, it never feels lurid or manipulative, even as the details of the trial are assessed and reassessed, as both prosecution and defence advocate for their side. The trial at hand feels as horrible as it should – “So if you were unconscious at the barbecue, as you claimed, and couldn’t remember what they supposedly did to you, why would you be scared of the boys?” sits with me, in particular – but the reader is shuttled through it as quickly as the jurors are. There’s no time to linger on the worst days of a few women’s lives, just time to litigate it.

Baylis renders the lives of her characters outside the trial with a gently warm omniscience. A swimming trial for the aforementioned athlete, Kahu, is the best depiction of competitive swimming I’ve read since probably Tessa Duder’s Alex. Even a character like Bethany, who seems entirely out of her depth and spends the trial drawing on her notebook, could be the butt of jokes elsewhere, but here the small frame of her world is simply rendered as another person’s reality:

“Bethany went to bed then – she didn’t like watching people hurt each other, and she didn’t want to watch sex stuff with her big sister and Ricky. She liked that they were there, though, on the other side of the divider. She’d smooth out her fleecy blanket and her stripy duvet, fluff up her pillows, and then she’d flick through Instagram or play Two Dots.”

I remain torn on whether the sprawl of Dice works to its favour, or if it feels too workshopped. Each of the 12 jurors seems to have a response, or a background relating to this case, that needs a chapter or two to fully explore. One character is so comically sleazy and creepy that sadly, it reads as entirely, bleakly reflective of someone who would end up on a jury for this sort of case, unchallenged. More than one character has had an experience with assault in the past, and dwells on it throughout the trial as they reflect on the evidence given. Towards the end of the book’s 300-odd pages, I felt myself ticking off the character list (helpfully provided at the start of the book) based on who we’d heard from and who we hadn’t.

Perhaps that is Baylis’ point. We carry our lives with us, an ever-growing bindle slung over our shoulder. We’re never really in a jury of our peers, because none of us have lived the same life. By that measure, how can we expect to be judged by a jury of our peers? Our peers have not walked a mile in our shoes, and have lived neither our best day nor our worst. As Dice hurtles to its inevitable end, it shines an unflattering spotlight on the legal system. It’s less that there is never an objective truth, a concrete set of facts to judge by; it’s whether we, as the subjective creatures that we are, are capable of putting that bindle down and looking at that truth straight in the eye.

‘Hutt Valley, Kāpiti, down to the south coast. Our Wellington coverage is powered by members.’
Joel MacManus
— Wellington editor

Dice is a book that I will, on the digital pages of The Spinoff Books section, heartily recommend to everyone. It’s one of the best books I’ve read all year. There are feelings I had while reading this book that I’ll never forget; forget stomach churning, Baylis had a chokehold on my internal organs. But if someone in real life were to ask me to recommend a book, it couldn’t be further from my grasp. I wouldn’t want to put someone through the experience of reading it.

But right here and now I’ll say: go buy a copy of Dice. Put a hold on it at your library. Borrow it from a friend who probably wants to push it from their home, from their memory. You might regret it, but you won’t forget it.

Dice by Claire Baylis (Allen & Unwin NZ, $37), can be purchased from Unity Books. Read more about the Ngaio Marsh awards on their Facebook page

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BooksAugust 25, 2023

The Unity Books bestseller chart for the week ending August 25

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

Look who we have here! Claire Keegan’s stunning novella Small Things Like These, continuing to win hearts and minds in 2023.

Here’s why we love it: “This book … is short, set within the comforting rituals of Christmas, and is basically perfect. The subject matter is serious and disturbing but the writer’s skill is to draw you into the dilemma through the eyes of a protagonist of such honesty, empathy and goodness that you’ll come away with renewed hope for the world.”

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

The Creative Act is number two again, eight months after publication – we just can’t get enough creative inspiration. 

3 On The Record by Steven Joyce (Allen & Unwin, $38)

A new memoir by one of the key figures in John Key’s three-term government. Stuff gives a rundown: “The memoir is the stuff of dreams for history buffs and political nerds; it charts with huge attention to detail the important moments and decisions of the government within which Joyce was a loyal member of Sir John Key’s inner circle. It’s also a rare insight into the all-consuming and intense life of a cabinet minister. 

“The memoir reminds readers why Joyce earned the Mr Fixit label throughout National’s nine years in power. A former businessman and entrepreneur who made millions turning his student radio gig into one of the country’s most successful media companies, Joyce sweated the small stuff, as well as the big stuff – and in many ways that was also the MO of the Key government.”

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

The start of spring means that foraging season has begun, and clearly, a lot of people are getting amongst – or at least reading about it. A lifetime (two years) ago, Liv Sisson wrote an introduction to finding fungi for The Spinoff, a great starting point for anyone feeling mushroom-curious. 

5 The Bone Tree by Airana Ngarewa (Moa Press, $38)

A new local debut by the wonderful Airana Ngarewa. He wrote recently on The Spinoff about how he went from disengaged student, to cage fighter, to writer – here’s an excerpt: “While writing The Bone Tree, I did not have to strip down to my shorts and go to war with another man in a cage but I did have another fight to fight. The fight to tell our stories. To represent the struggle honestly. Good, bad and complicated. To tell a tale that, if I’d stumbled upon it in school, would’ve meant something to me and would’ve got more out of me than an eye roll. If I’d had a book like this, I like to think it wouldn’t have mattered who the teacher was. The story would’ve been enough.”

6 Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zevin (Vintage, $26)

“Before Mazer invented himself as Mazer, he was Samson Mazer, and before he was Samson Mazer, he was Samson Masur—a change of two letters that transformed him from a nice, ostensibly Jewish boy to a Professional Builder of Worlds—and for most of his youth, he was Sam, S.A.M. on the hall of fame of his grandfather’s Donkey Kong machine, but mainly Sam.”

Thus begins the gamer romance that has taken the world by storm. 

7 The Axeman’s Carnival by Catherine Chidgey (Te Herenga Waka University Press, $35)

The brilliant, strange, poetic, funny winner of 2023’s Jann Medlicott Acorn Prize for Fiction.

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

A new Ann Patchett novel is always cause for celebration, in the form of tucking away somewhere cozy with a very large cup of tea… and barricading the doors to stop any reading interruptions. 

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

The Sydney Morning Herald delivers its verdict on this BookTok-fuelled bestseller: “After four successful genre fantasy books, Rebecca F. Kuang’s fifth novel, Yellowface, is a mystery thriller that shocks, delights, and not-so-subtly weaves a scalpel through today’s commercial publishing industry. It’s a book about a woman who, through sheer confidence in her own ability to deceive, convinces herself and the world that a crime she committed was not really a crime at all. … Yellowface asks us to morally adjudicate the reprehensible behaviour of June. It is a Young Person Novel – one that insists readers know exactly what it’s trying to do. There is no subtlety here and is mesmerisingly ruthless in this insistence. But the intensity of this effort is exactly what makes this book so engrossing, so utterly addictive.” 

10 Wifedom: Mrs Orwell’s Invisible Life by Anna Funder (Hamish Hamilton, $40)

The new book by Stasiland author Anna Funder pulls together threads of fiction, memoir, criticism, and biography to bring to life George Orwell’s wife, Eileen Blair. 

WELLINGTON

1 Lioness by Emily Perkins (Bloomsbury, $37)

First in Welly for the second week running! Read books editor Claire Mabey’s stellar review… or just jump straight into the fray and read the book.  

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

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

Because sometimes watching the film just isn’t enough. 

4 Yellowface by R. F. Kuang (Blue Door, $35)

5  Our Land in Colour: A History of Aotearoa New Zealand 1860 – 1960 by Brendan Graham and Jock Phillips (HarperCollins, $55)

A century of life and culture in Aotearoa, captured on film, is now in colour for the first time. Six of the two hundred photographs can be wondered at over here in Canvas.

6 On The Record by Steven Joyce (Allen & Unwin, $38)

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

The bestselling author of The Poisonwood Bible won the Pulitzer Prize for her newest novel, Demon Copperhead – a modern retelling of Dickens’ David Copperfield. 

8 The Bone Tree by Airana Ngarewa (Moa Press, $38)

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

The question you’re all asking is answered smartly by the publisher’s blurb: why do we need to talk about Norman?

“Because although Norman Kirk was prime minister for barely 21 months some 50 years ago, he still speaks to us. His belief in the state as a force for good and his style of leadership could and should be powerful guides for politics in the 21st century. Kirk was not a supporter of the neoliberalist ideology that has given us widening inequality, rising poverty and the virtual obliteration from public debate and policy-making of the workers who create this country’s wealth. His idea of a healthy country was, famously, one whose citizens could realistically expect to find ‘someone to love, somewhere to live, somewhere to work and something to hope for’.”

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

‘Hutt Valley, Kāpiti, down to the south coast. Our Wellington coverage is powered by members.’
Joel MacManus
— Wellington editor