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Sharron Came’s Peninsula (Design: Archi Banal)
Sharron Came’s Peninsula (Design: Archi Banal)

BooksSeptember 30, 2022

The Unity Books bestseller chart for the week ending 30 September

Sharron Came’s Peninsula (Design: Archi Banal)
Sharron Came’s Peninsula (Design: Archi Banal)

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  Lessons by Ian McEwan (Jonathon Cape, $37)

The new McEwan novel is top of the pops in Welly, too! The Washington Post tells fans of Atonement not to worry – Lessons isn’t like McEwan’s recent novels, “minor, fantastical stories, wormy with weird wit” (Nutshell, Machines Like Me, The Cockroach). It’s a real goodie: “There’s something close to divine in this process of creating the entire span of a person’s life embroidered with threads trailing off in every direction. Here is a narrative that moves with such patient dedication into the circuitous details of an ordinary man’s experience that by the end I knew Roland better than I know most of my actual friends.”

2  All the Broken Places by John Boyne (Doubleday, $37)

From the beloved author of The Heart’s Invisible Furies, A History of Loneliness, and A Ladder to the Sky – this is the adult follow up to The Boy in the Striped Pajamas. Cheering ensues. 

All the Broken Places centres on Gretel Fernsby, now 91, and guilt-ridden over the death of her young brother Bruno and the crimes of her parents. 

From the Guardian: “The book forces us to consider the nature of atonement, and whether violence can ever justify the prevention of something even worse. All the Broken Places is a defence of literature’s need to shine a light on the darkest aspects of human nature; and it does so with a novelist’s skill, precision and power.”

3  Kurangaituku by Whiti Hereaka (Huia Publishers, $35)

Winner of this year’s Jann Medlicott Acorn Prize for Fiction, and winner of the Allen & Unwin Award for Best Commercial Fiction Book for Adults at this year’s PANZ Book Design Awards.

4  How to Loiter in a Turf War by Coco Solid (Penguin, $28)

We’ll loiter with Coco Solid anytime.  

5  Ithaca by Claire North (Orbit, $38)

New fiction by the author of The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August. Ithaca retells the story of Penelope of Ithaca, wife of Odysseus. Fellow author Jennifer Saint calls the novel “breathtaking”. 

Incredible facts: Claire North is a pen name for author Catherine Webb. Kate Griffin is another pen name for Catherine Webb. Together, the “three” women have published 23 novels. Catherine Webb is only 36 years old.  

6  The Marriage Portrait by Maggie O’Farrell (Knopf, $38)

The new novel by the author of Hamnet.

7  Towards a Grammar of Race in Aotearoa New Zealand edited by Arcia Tecun, Lana Lopesi and Anisha Sankar (Bridget Williams Books, $40)

The newest book of essays by BWB, focusing on new ways to talk about race in Aotearoa. We recently published an excerpt of an essay by Tze Ming Mok, examining how “White” and “Black” is applied to Asian peoples. Here’s a taster:

“‘You’re either White or you’re Black,’ said one of my interviewees, a thoroughly working-class and middle-aged Turkish Cockney, ‘…Is there any other colours?’ He laughed. ‘I know some people would say Chinese are yellow, but that’s stupid. You’re either White or you’re Black.’

“‘OK,’ I said, with a knowing sense of dread, ‘am I White or Black?’

“‘You?’ he said with a hint of incredulity that I would even ask this, ‘You’re White!’

“I took this in, and inquired as to the status of my husband, an Indian.

“‘Oh, he’s Black.’ No question.”

8  Atomic Habits by James Clear (Random House, $40)

Make your new good habits stick like… when chewing gum gets in your hair. 

9  The Bullet That Missed by Richard Osman (Viking, $37)

The third novel in the Thursday Mystery Club series, set in an upscale retirement village. Fans on Goodreads are making exclamations like “better than ever!” and “BEST ONE YET!” and “I’m honestly not sure we deserve Richard Osman or the utterly adorable, cantankerous, frankly dangerous Thursday Murder Club but I will take them and hug them and squeeze them for as long as I am able.” That last one may have been more of a gush than an exclamation. 

10  The English Text of the Treaty of Waitangi by Ned Fletcher (Bridget Williams Books, $70)

Josie Pagani in Stuff gave a neat summary of lawyer and historian Ned Fletcher’s new book: “It demolishes the argument that there were two unreconciled versions of the Treaty. He shows the English version is the same as the Māori version. Pākehā who signed on behalf of the Crown were not trying to trick Māori. Sovereignty, or kawanatanga, meant the same to English signers as it did to Māori. The Crown would dispense justice, preserve the peace and good order, and regulate trade. The betrayal came later, thanks to the New Zealand Company.”

WELLINGTON

1  Lessons by Ian McEwan (Jonathon Cape, $37)

2  Peninsula by Sharron Came (Te Herenga Waka University Press, $30)

A local debut novel containing ten interwoven stories, set in a rural Northland farming community. Damien Wilkins says: “This stunning book casts an unusual spell. At first blush it all seems as New Zealandy as sheep dogs, septic tanks and muting the TV when visitors arrive. Then you notice the creeping poetry of lives coping with change and how this vividly imagined world of tramping huts, bush runs and squash clubs contains other worlds. Sharron Came is writing from deep intimacy with the rural community she summons on the page. Her terse, funny and hugely poignant stories restore a sense of possibility to the future without turning away from its terrors.”

3  Exiles by Jane Harper (Macmillan, $38)

New mystery novel by bestselling author of The Dry. “Exiles is an outstanding crime novel, rich in mystery and atmosphere and full of heart.” says C. L. Taylor, “Utterly immersive, captivating and beautifully written; I lost myself completely within its pages and was bereft when it ended. Jane Harper is a rare jewel of an author and Exiles deserves to be huge. It blew me away. It’s my book of the year so far.”

4  The Bullet That Missed by Richard Osman (Viking, $37)

5  I’m Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy (Simon & Schuster, $56)

Memoir by the ex-child star of iCarly. A shocking title, yes. A good book? Apparently, also yes. 

6  Towards a Grammar of Race in Aotearoa New Zealand edited by Arcia Tecun, Lana Lopesi and Anisha Sankar (Bridget Williams Books, $40)

7  The Marriage Portrait by Maggie O’Farrell (Knopf, $38)

8  Kawai: For Such a Time As This by Monty Soutar (Bateman, $40)

The first in a trilogy of historic novels that follows nine generations of one Māori family. Kawai takes off in the mid-18th century, up to the arrival of Europeans. 

9  The Joy of Small Things by Hannah Jane Parkinson (Guardian Faber, $23)

Since 2018 and across the bleak Covid days, Parkinson wrote a column for the Guardian about small things that give her joy. Now – you guessed it – a book of her columns has been born. The Guardian reviews their sprog (and we call nepotism): “It could so easily become cloying over 250 pages, but Parkinson deploys her droll cynicism to good effect. Where there is positivity, mordant wit and pathos are never far behind”.

10  Greta & Valdin by Rebecca K Reilly (Te Herenga Waka University Press, $35)

Our favourite fictional siblings. 

Keep going!
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BooksSeptember 29, 2022

The Thursday Poem: Bad example

NZCLW.jpeg

A poem for NZ Chinese Language Week 2022 and Chris Tse.

Chinese Language Week
should change its name to
Mandarin Language Week because
I like Mandarin.

Lucid, clear tones – my favourite

beer is Asahi Super Dry
it tastes of nothing and my favourite perfume
smells just like sweet water, in fact it is called
‘Water’. If I could I would
wear the same black clothes every day.

Haiyaoshuo, Mandarin has only four tones
Yunnanhua alone can beat it with
almost three. You could say I’m a minimalist
(I want a simple life of revolution)
and Yunnan has only one season, springtime
why, I could wear the same black clothes there every day
if I went back to Baoshan

if I could ever go back to China again.
If I hadn’t joined the Blacklist Club.

Some days I try to learn Cantonese, just a few phrases.
Ten minutes later I think I am having an aneurysm.
Cantonese is trying to kill me.

*

I am a bad example

of what you are trying to say.
When ma first arrived here, the Old Gen Cantos would refuse
to take her order in restaurants
when she tried to speak with them
in Mandarin.

NO FOOD FOR YOU

Cantonese tried to starve us.

Who were you to us, us to you?
We weren’t woven into your histories of gold or
poll tax or laundries or racism or fruit-shops or
indenture or sports (good god, so much sports)

While we emerged from the jungle with stethoscopes
chests swelled from kicking out the British
then deflated from the race riots
well-balanced you might say
(smug, you might say)

you laohuaqiao kept your secrets sealed
behind English names and unreal hyphenates,
doors shut so tight, who the fuck knew.

Although my father and my family name

were Cantonese,
that name meant
Nothing.

No, literally.

This is not a poetry thing.

It means not
Don’t.
Absence of.
Nothing
No-one.
Mò.

*

My Malaysian Canto-dad didn’t teach us any
of the half-dozen languages he spoke so perfectly
like a fucking genius. Languages are too natural for teaching,
he said, you just open your mouth, it falls out

He would mock his own wife, my mother for speaking
her Southwest-accented Mandarin to me when young,
the shame of her open mouth, covered
it all just fell away.

My Language-Loss Story is a bad example,
regional snobberies and patriarchal dickishness to blame,
not colonisation or racism.
It even kept me mad about the Cantonese,
inside their nine-tone fortress,
their Tongrenjie bulldozed before we were here,
and I didn’t even care (I’m sorry I set a bad example)
I never believed in the One Chinatown Principle
the Chinatown Dream

There is no community behind me
just obscure strands of leftover empires, twisting, burning.
My name dug from the razed grounds
of a Tang Dynasty vs Ming Dynasty grudge-match

Tze Ming is ‘bright aspirations’ in
Southwest Mandarin;
joined with the Cantonese ‘not’,
my name means low expectations

just like those I have always had
of ‘NZ Chinese Language Week’.
This is gonna be cringe’, I said to Eda
An instant headline, and a chord struck
with so many Cantos.

And yet, I like Mandarin.
I am always a bad example
of resistance to CCP-enforced putonghua hegemony
other than my Mandarin being bad
and me resisting CCP-enforced every-other-hegemony,
with the power of bad Mandarin

*

Guangfu Xianggang!
Guangfu Xinjiang!
Guangfu Xizang!
Guangfu Zhongguo!
SHIDAI GEMIN

I want to speak only the banned Mandarin
and badly enough for it to stay free
always badly, pass it badly on.
Empires don’t make oral cultures, so
what can we do but eat knives daily
speaking to our family,
it’s as bad as actual poetry,
that is – the absolute worst –

to fumble feelings out of your face with

halting, self conscious
breaks and silence to
create tension, the tension appropriate
to the feelings, the feelings
to the meaning,
‘What is the use of talking,

and there is no end of talking’
(said the fascist Ezra Pound)
But ma yells the line eternally
WHAT IS THE USE OF TALKING
ZUIBUTING, JIANGHUASILE
yes talk me to death again yes

make it the same,
I’m a bad copy, I am shanzai to fuck
a scanned photo of a scanned photo with
a handwritten date on the edge
‘In the Thirteenth Year of the Republic’
like our lives were the Star Wars Prequels

Let the resolution degrade until
the nothing is the whole
And the no-one is the perimeter, and the
not is the shape of your mother’s hands
and the empire has no power here.

I smooth qi through my boy as I sing him to sleep
under a blank sky-blue banner
he feels the force tickle and lull and pull
him through the half-lives of generations

Lan-lan tian kou yingheli,

All together if you know the words

youzi xiao bai chuan,

in which case you will know these aren’t the right words

Chuan shang you ke guihua shu,

Twinkle twinkle little bat,

bai tu zai you wanr

how I wonder where you’re at

Piao-a piao-a wang qian piao,

Did you journey to the west

piaozi xiao bai chuan

Or south or east, to nowhere’s best

Piao-yaaaa, piaaaao-ya,

ALL TOGETHER NOW

PIAAAOO DAO XIIIIIFAAAAANG

My ma sang it wrong to me, I sing it wrong to him, and
he will sing it wrong to his, and eventually some smug spouse will say
while the straits fill with black fire, and our islands fall
and all of us cousins run and run, towards or away
from each other
‘That’s not how it goes, your Mandarin is bad’ and
we will finish this war
that the centuries started.