An Interview with Mary Cresswell

This is the first of three interviews I will be running over the next few weeks with New Zealand poets whose first solo books of poetry are being launched on or near Montana Poetry Day on Friday 24 July.


Mary Cresswell is a Wellington poet who lives on the Kapiti Coast. She came to New Zealand from Los Angeles in 1970, after having lived in various parts of the US, in Germany, and in Japan. She graduated from Stanford University in California with a degree in history and English literature. She is a freelance science editor and proofreader and has spent at least one lifetime in the Wellington workplace.

Her first book appearance was with Mary-Jane Duffy, Mary Macpherson, and Kerry Hines as co-authors of Millionaire’s Shortbread, published by the University of Otago Press in 2003. This book is illustrated with collages by Brendan O’Brien, has an afterword by Greg O’Brien, and introduced these four poets to the Wellington scene.

Mary, your first solo book of poetry, Nearest & Dearest (Steele Roberts, 2009, NZ RRP $19.95, illustrated by Nikki Slade Robinson) is a book of humorous poetry, which is a side of your work I’ve not seen before. Have you always written humorous poetry alongside your serious poetry, or has that been a recent development?

The opposite, actually. I stopped writing serious poetry when I was about 17 and only took it up again the year I turned 60. All the years I didn’t write serious poetry, I’ve frequently come up with silly stuff for friends, for occasions in the office, or for family. That’s been a constant. I just wish I’d kept copies!

How did you become involved in writing poetry? Which poets have been most influential on your writing?

I was raised in a family where capping verses (usually limericks) was a standard indoor sport, so I have emitted poetry as long as I remember. Important poets? My sense of rhythm owes a lot to Anon. and to Cole Porter. My parents lived on folk songs and cabaret songs, hence my need for accentual (rather than accentual-syllabic or free) verse. Individual poets: Lewis Carroll, Auden, Eliot, Poe, Dorothy Parker, Donne, Walter Scott, Byron, Longfellow, Ogden Nash, Sidney Lanier… for starters. These days I’m reading Kay Ryan, Marie Ponsot, Robert Alter’s new translation of the Book of Psalms, among others.

“Humour” and “playfulness” are not words often used to characterise the literary scene in New Zealand. Indeed, there seems to be a view here that purse-lipped seriousness is the only acceptable literary stance. Have you run foul of such attitudes, or is this just me being paranoid?

I think “literary” is the operative word here, and no, you’re not paranoid. But this isn’t poetry’s fault: A lot of people last thought seriously about poetry in the fifth form and settle for genteel obeisance to Beauty and Nature when they think of it at all; light verse is for greeting cards, and they can’t imagine a serious message coming via humour. — And there’s also literary fashion. Humour is difficult in personal-experience poetry written in free verse, with no formal aspect. In New Zealand, we have to go back a generation to, say, Denis Glover to find a top poet writing humour, especially black humour, with a sting in it. Was Glover ever considered literary? I don’t know; I wonder if his contemporaries kept him in a category of his own.

Not many Americans write poems that feature cricket, such as “Willow Green Willow” in Nearest & Dearest. Do you now feel thoroughly ‘acclimatised’, if I may use the term, as a New Zealand poet?

After forty years in New Zealand, I’m about as acclimatised as I’ll ever be. I switched to correct [sic] spelling early on, though my spoken accent will never change much. I’m not sure, though, if any poet can or should aim for the mainstream. I know that both Americans and Kiwis think I don’t really belong, and the discomfort that comes from this seems to keep my satiric side alive and healthy.

Several of the poems that I most enjoyed in Nearest & Dearest are parodies of or based on other poems, several from the Victorian era. I know I like reading these – what attracts you to writing them?

They’re easiest to get started. Many of them (like the office manager’s Shakespeare sonnet (see below) or playing games with Wordsworth in the ‘Pass at Grasmere’) are based on poetry I read years ago, and they’re part of my sensibility in a way more recent poems aren’t. So a phrase—a few lines—perhaps a rhyme for ‘schadenfreude’— will pop into my mind by surprise; then I spend hours and hours trying to polish a humorous poem that also is a credit to the original.


Your poem “Metastasis” appears in Voyagers: Science Fiction Poetry from New Zealand, and you work as an editor of science publications. How much of an influence has science had on your poetry? Would you describe yourself as a “science poet”?

Not a “science poet” in that I rarely take scientific principles into account; “Metastasis” is a bit aberrant. I take notes of and am definitely influenced by goofy-sounding phrases I run across in the course of proofreading fearsomely technical material. (Who would be a “ring-based indole”, I ask you?) The US magazine Umbrella publishes an annual light supplement, Bumbershoot. This poem: http://www.umbrellajournal.com/summer2009/bumbershoot/light_verse/LabNote.html reflects a temporary passion for technical terms beginning with “Sq”.

Are copies of Nearest & Dearest available in bookshops yet? If so, where can people find it?

Absolutely. In Wellington, try Unity Books; Moby Dickens and Paper Plus in Paraparaumu; Bruce Mackenzie’s in Palmerston have it for sure. Books a’ Plenty in Tauranga. If you don’t see it on the shelf, ask for it. Supporting your local bookseller is admirable, virtuous, and a sign of high intelligence. If all else fails, the book’s available from the publisher and from Fishpond.

Finally, what’s next for Mary Cresswell as a poet?

Write more. Read more. Read more. Write more.

Watch this space.

THE OFFICE MANAGER ADDRESSES HER MIRROR
by Mary Cresswell

Shall I wear the Gucci scarf today?
It’s far more lovely and more corporate
than what sleek young managers affect
in all the offices up and down the way.

It gives an air of strength, they always say,
classic looks for classic power dressed,
Look and feel and act as though you’re best
and the rest will follow, as the night the day.

No dangly earrings! What women call
postmenopausal zest, in other places
gives a bad impression overall.
I will notice all their airs and graces,
a quiet woman, not looking to outwit them…
I shall run the show before they know what hit them.

This interview is the first stop in Mary’s “virtual book tour” for Nearest & Dearest. The next stop is on Janis Freegard’s blog.

Ain’t No Stopping Us Now

Hard on the heels of the news that a short story collection by science fiction writer Chris Beckett has won the prestigious Edge Hill Short Story Prize, beating collections by Anne Enright, Shena Mackay, Ali Smith and Gerard Donovan, comes the slightly less big – but still welcome – news that Radio New Zealand (National Radio) is holding a panel discussion this coming Sunday afternoon (the 11th) on writing science fiction and fantasy. Here’s the official announcement:

2:30 Chapter and Verse

A panel of New Zealand Sci-Fi writers and publishers, on the on-going fascination with the future, and what the future holds for our Sci-Fi. On the panel are writers Tim Jones, Helen Lowe and Russell Kirkpatrick, and publisher Lorain Day from Harper Collins.

(Ooh, I do dislike that term “Sci-Fi”! It always sounds patronising to me – but I’ll learn to cope…)

Two of the panelists, Helen Lowe and Russell Kirkpatrick, are best known for their fantasy novels (though Helen is also an excellent short story writer and poet), so I expect to be holding the fort for science fiction and for short fiction.

If you live in Wellington, keep your eyes peeled for another writing event in September featuring Helen Lowe and myself – more details to follow!

Details of how to access Radio New Zealand broadcasts are available on their site (see “Ways to Listen” on the bottom left of the home page) and, if a podcast is made of the panel, I will put the link up here as soon as it’s available.

An Interview with Lyn McConchie


Lyn McConchie is a New Zealand writer who has been published extensively, especially in the USA, in a range of genres: science fiction, fantasy, horror, humour, and mystery. Lyn was crippled in an accident in 1977 and forced to take medical retirement in 1988. She now owns and runs a small farm near Norsewood, where she breeds coloured sheep and tends her free range geese and hens. I talked with Lyn abut her career, the many genres in which she has written, her collaboration with Andre Norton, and her view on the future of publishing.


Lyn, you began your professional writing career in 1991, with short fiction sales to the US magazines MZB’s Fantasy Magazine and Strange Plasma. What got you started in writing short fiction, and had you been writing and submitting stories for long before you made your first sale?

Tim, actually it’s all Greg Hills’ fault that I ever started writing at all. At the time he was the WARP editor. He suggested one day that he’d appreciate it if I could find time to do a few book reviews and I did, then I was asked for an article, and provided one. He said later that I could probably manage a short story or two for the magazine? And I did. Natcons here were running a short story competition by then each Natcon, so I started entering. Culminating in winning the last two that I’d entered, so a friend suggested that I should try selling some of my work. Being the eternal optimist that I am, I did. I looked up markets in LOCUS, and another friend mentioned a children’s magazine (KIWI KIDS) that had just started here. So I sent out three stories, one each to MZB’s Fantasy Magazine, Strange Plasma and Kiwi Kids. I also offered poems to another market in the States. All three stories sold to my pop-eyed astonishment, and while the poetry magazine didn’t accept the poems I offered, they too found homes later and elsewhere. So no, I hadn’t exactly been submitting stories long before I made my first sale, and I’d only been writing fiction at all for about five years.

You have published 16 novels – which impresses me tremendously! How did your first novel come to be written and published?

Um. It’s 24 books now. I had a mad binge on acceptances last year and sold five, with another so far this year. The first however was a surprise. I’d been writing long letters to overseas friends about my farm and mad farm animals for several years. When at a writer’s group with friends I was asked to read one of the episodes, I did so and it was pointed out that this could be publishable. There was at the time a quarterly magazine here that specialised on the subject of lifestyle blocks/farmlets, and I offered them four humorous true-life articles based on my letters to friends. These were accepted, and some months later the editor came back to me asking if I had sufficient material for a book. I did, and the publisher for whom he worked accepted that. It appeared in May of ’93 and has been in print ever since. The series transferred to AVALOOK PUBLICATIONS in Australia in 2002, and since then it’s gone to four books with a fifth sold and scheduled to appear shortly

The next two books were sold in the UK from a small publisher. Again, by something of a fluke and originally because of an argument with a writer friend. To prove my point to her I sat down and wrote a 45,000 word book in three weeks. I won the argument and later Rod Marsden in Australia, who knew about this book, told me of a UK publisher who was taking that sort of work. I offered, they accepted, and asked for another, which I also wrote in around three weeks and sold to them.

Many of your novels have been written and published in collaboration with the famous science fiction and fantasy writer Andre Norton. How did this collaboration come about?

Andre was an old friend whom I’d known for some time before I began writing. When I did she encouraged me hugely, read some of my short stories, and was always very supportive. How the first book arose from that is a very long story, but its acceptance and publication was on her initiative.

It’s evident from your website that, for your books listed as co-written with Andre Norton, you did most or all of the work, either writing the book based on a brief outline she provided, or writing the book from scratch within a universe she had created. How do you feel now about the pros and cons of such an arrangement, where a better-known writer lends their name to a project mainly or wholly written by an initially less-well-known writer?

KEY OF THE KEPLIAN, CIARA’S SONG, THE DUKE’S BALLAD and SILVER MAY TARNISH, were all written completely by me with no input from Andre apart from approval. The three Beast Master books arose from a conversation when I was staying with her in 1995. She said that she felt she was out of ideas for the series, had never wanted to continue with it, but knew it was still very open-ended. Would I like to continue with it? There and then while eating breakfast we discussed possible ideas that I wrote down. These became two outlines (for the next two books,) one of almost two pages, one of one page. I can’t remember for certain whose the ideas they were, we were tossing them back and forth, but I believe the major plotlines of alien insects and the Thieves Guild circus both came from me. The third Beast Master book I wrote with no input, but Andre liked it, particularly my reversion to Beast Masters returning to be part of First in Scout Survey teams again.


In addition to the novels, you have had plenty of short stories, poems and non-fiction published. All that writing takes a lot of dedication. How do your schedule your writing day, and do you find it hard to fit in writing with your other commitments?

Every cloud has a silver lining. Being crippled, and not being able to work 9-5, I can write at any time just so long as I’m not in too much pain to concentrate. I’ve averaged two books, about 12 short stories, plus maybe 3-4 articles/opinion pieces, and a handful of poems every year. That adds up after 20 years. Since my other commitments are mostly the farm and animals, and it’s a very small farm, I manage without too many problems. One of my main advantages is that I don’t have problems if I’m interrupted. I can just return, read the last sentence and I’m away writing again.

You live on and run a small farm, and you’ve had a number of books about rural life published in the Farming Daze series. Do you find writing these books a refreshing change from writing the big fantasy novels? Does writing them present its own, separate set of challenges?

These books write themselves. Any time something peculiar or amusing happens on the farm I write it up. That goes into letters to friends, but at some stage when there’s enough material, I sort it out into the next book. Since it isn’t fiction it’s a huge difference from writing fantasy – although some of the farm stuff can cross over. For instance, the coloured sheep flock in CIARA’S SONG and DUKE’S BALLAD are my real sheep. And Andre borrowed my tales of them too for her book, THE HANDS OF LYR, where they became alien herd animals.



I hear that your current writing project is a Western. What got you interested in writing in that genre, and what’s the market like for Westerns these days? What are the key things a good Western needs?

Well, I like a good western, and one day I sat down and wrote one for fun. I then found that the market had gone south as publishers now didn’t want the standard shorter work. They wanted 120,000 word blockbusters and mine was around 70,000. So I filed it. Then I found that a USA publisher to whom I was selling short stories for her magazines, also had a western imprint. I offered, she accepted, and SOUTH OF RIO CHAMA appears later this year. What does a good western need? Same as any other book I guess. Good plot, character development, realist dialogue, and something that moves right along. Oh, and it helps if you are an expert in the Old West. I’m very definitely not, so it’s a learning experience.

There’s a flood of news at the moment about changes in the publishing industry, under the twin impacts of the recession and of changes in the ways books are produced, distributed and marketed. What changes have you seen in the publishing industry since 1991? Are you optimistic about the future of publishing in general, and science fiction and fantasy publishing in particular?

There’s been a huge impact on the market with many smaller publishers going into POD and download and the market expanding without the need to warehouse enormous quantities of printed copies. I would always prefer to see my books in print, the POD/download duo I find acceptable, but I don’t think I’d want to sell a book to a publisher that didn’t have that option. I’m old fashioned perhaps, but I like a book I can read in the bath, in bed, or while waiting in a car for friends. And no, I don’t find that the kindle cuts it. And I have the feeling that this won’t change for me.

Apart from the Western, what other writing projects do you have on the go?

I’m just waiting to see the cover for the new non-fiction book from Avalook Publications. RURAL DAZE AND (K)NIGHTS, is due out in a couple more months and the cover is being done by my regular artist who lives near me.

I have some revision still to do on the other book from Cyberwizard Productions. That’s SUMMER OF DREAMING, a supernatural fantasy for older children/YA and set in New Zealand. Sadly I couldn’t find a publisher here, so it was offered to Cyberwizard who liked it.

I’m gradually putting together a short story theme collection of SF stories I hope to offer a publisher late this year.

I’ve just completed first draft of a new fantasy, and at some stage must sit down and write several linked short stories that are harassing me.

I’m also expecting to have revision to do this year on the book sold to TOR, (THE QUESTING ROAD, set in my own world of Aradia) and my SF/disaster novel set in NZ, and sold to Daverana Enterprises, (VESTIGES OF FLAMES). With all that cleared I’ll begin on the next Aradian fantasy which I hope to have done by Christmas if none of the above holds that schedule back too far.

Walking the White Road: An Interview with Tania Hershman

Here we are: Tania Hershman’s virtual book tour for her excellent short story collection The White Road and Other Stories, which is available in New Zealand from Fishpond (here: The White Road and Other Stories), has touched down at my blog for its fifth stop. (For details of past and future stops on the tour, see the end of this post.)

What links a café in Antarctica, a factory for producing electronic tracking tags and a casino where gamblers can wager their shoes? They’re among the multiple venues where award-winning writer Tania Hershman sets her unique tales in this spellbinding debut collection.

I’m reading The White Road and Other Stories at the moment, and am really enjoying its mixture of flash fiction (very short stories) and stories inspired by articles in New Scientist magazine. I recommend it!

Biography

Tania Hershman was born in London in 1970 and in 1994 moved to Jerusalem, Israel, where she now lives with her partner. Tania is a former science journalist and her award-winning short stories combine her two loves: fiction and science. Many of Tania’s stories, which have been broadcast on BBC Radio 4 and published in print and online, are inspired by articles from popular science magazines. In November 2007, she founded The Short Review, a unique website dedicated to reviewing short story collections. For further information, visit The White Road and Other Stories. Tania blogs at TitaniaWrites.

The Interview

Tania, you made a very interesting comment on my blog, in response to my post on Is Literary Fiction a Genre? You said, in part: “To be frank, I hate genre distinctions, anything that sets something apart from something else and runs the risk that someone who loves to read will miss out on great writing because it’s on another shelf in the book shop.” Yet the whole publishing industry — publishers, booksellers, reviewers, and indeed many readers – appears to operate on the basis of genre. Do you feel that you’re a lone voice in the wilderness on this issue, or part of a growing trend?

Tim, first, thanks for having me, it’s great to be here. Second, I have no idea if I am a lone voice on this, I haven’t read that much else about it, but whenever I’ve written about it, such as during a guest blog post on Vulpes Libris, I have had a lot of great comments. I asked author Polly Frost to write a guest post on The Short Review blog about genre (she called herself a “genre slut”, which I love!) She said: “You’d think that anyone who writes or reads would be cheering for everyone else. Instead, some highbrow literary people sneer at genre stories. Meanwhile, there are genre people who are belligerent and defensive.” This doesn’t make sense to me, now that I am being exposed to what is called “genre” fiction, which I am finding far more beautifully-written, touching, relevant and peopled with well-rounded and fascinating characters than much of the so-called “literary” fiction. Why draw these lines? Why section off whole swathes of literature? I can understand how this would make those in the sectioned-off part rather defensive. Who wouldn’t be? Tear down the walls, get rid of the genre shelves, I cry!

But then, on the other hand, fans of a particular field – I will say field instead of genre – of literature, such as science fiction, or crime, may object. Where will we look to find the kinds of books we like to read? they might ask me. What I would say is, as you are searching through the shelves for the books you already know you want to read, you must just find a book or two that you didn’t know you wanted to read and might just love. What’s better than those moments, the finding of a new favourite author?

In terms of the publishing industry, it’s obviously easier for them to operate with the genre distinctions: they know who to sell what to, it’s all clear cut and neat, in boxes. They know where to advertise, how to spread the word, where to send an author to be interviewed, to give readings. But will that get an author new readers? Readers who don’t know they like science fiction, like me? No. To do that would be a far greater challenge – perhaps similar to the challenge of “suggesting” to novel readers they might also enjoy a short story collection. Cynical, me??

If we consider interstitial fiction as being fiction that crosses, or falls between, genre boundaries, do you regard all or some of the stories in The White Road and Other Stories as being interstitial fiction, and if so, do you feel a kinship with other writers of interstitial fiction?

Well, strictly speaking, interstitial fiction only exists if you believe in the genre boundaries in the first place. But since we haven’t reached a genre-less state yet, I will answer your question. When I wrote the stories in The White Road, I had no thought of genre, of where they might “fit”. Plaits is a story where a woman talks to her knees; in The White Road the main character sets up a cafe in Antarctica; the protagonist of Rainstiffness is temporarily paralyzed every time it rains; the main character of Self Raising makes “scientific” cakes. I don’t know where this places my stories!

I did hope I was writing mostly what is called “literary fiction”, which is incredibly hard to define and might be best defined as generally being the opposite of commercial fiction and more concerned with the quality of the writing and with language than with page-turning plots. But as to where it fits now, I am waiting to see what readers think. I have been told that some of the stories remind people of science fiction. I had a long discussion on Vanessa Gebbie’s blog about magical realism but am unsure whether some of my stories fall under that heading. Some of the stories are “realist”, sort of. So, I guess the long answer is yes, my stories tend to fall between, rather than within, genres as they are currently defined.

I am most definitely attracted to interstitial fiction. It has a wonderful appeal, that it doesn’t fit neatly into anywhere. I don’t like neat and tidy. I like things that shake up the establishment, writing that can’t be easily labelled. If I am in this category, I am delighted to be here! I have only read one anthology that was defined as interstitial (although “defined” seems like the wrong word!); the Interfictions anthology published by the Interstitial Arts Foundation. I enjoyed it greatly, but it seemed to chime with a lot of what I already love to read – stuff I would call surreal, irreal, magical realist, stories you can find in publications such as Cafe Irreal, Sleepingfish, Conjunctions.

Strictly from a marketing point of view, has your approach to genre been a help or a hindrance?

I am new to the book marketing industry, my book has only been out since September, but since I am spending a lot of time myself trying to market The White Road and wondering how exactly to do that, I can see how it would have been far easier to fit into a “genre” and aim the book squarely at that genre’s readers. Say science fiction, for example. I would have known where to go, which magazines to send review copies to, etc… As it is, I am having to make it up as I go along. But the fact that half the stories are inspired by articles from UK science magazine New Scientist certainly seems unique, and I was delighted when New Scientist itself enjoyed the stories (I was concerned they might think I was taking their science and somehow trivialising it!) and decided to publish the title story on the New Scientist website.

That was a fascinating experience and provoked some interesting comments. At first, those who commented didn’t seem to understand that what they were reading was fiction and not journalism. Several scolded me harshly for being ungrammatical, when in fact it is my main character who has an “interesting” approach to grammar. A few writer friends stepped in to explain about fictional voice, and the complainers mostly recanted and apologised. But then a discussion was generated about whether the story’s denouement was plausible, with those for and against, and I just sat back and watched, fascinated, as the two camps argued it out. I was delighted because it seemed my story was reaching an audience that never normally reads short fiction So there I crossed genre boundaries, straddling the territory between fiction and fact. I would love to repeat the experience, if New Scientist wants to! I am not sure how many books I sold through that article, but I had many hits to the book’s website, and that’s pretty wonderful.

New Zealand has a distinguished tradition of short story writers, including some, such as Katherine Mansfield, who have achieved international fame – yet, overtly or covertly, I’m told all the time that short stories aren’t “proper” fiction, whereas novels are. Do you get the same reaction?

This is the attitude that dogged me throughout my MA in Creative Writing in the UK four years ago. From the start, I and the one other “fool” who insisted on writing short stories instead of a novel were treated as though we were a lesser species. At one point, my short stories were referred to as exercises whose purpose was simply as a warm-up to the “real thing”. Every agent and editor who came to talk to us said they weren’t interested in short story writers. It seemed ridiculous to us, it was like deciding, for example, to cut out all nuts from your diet simply because they are small, despite the fact that peanuts and pecans, hazelnuts, almonds, cashews, are all shapes and sizes, tastes and textures.

However, this attitude “backfired”: it made me all the more determined only to write short stories, at least for my MA thesis. I have heard the same attitude voiced since, and all I can say is that it is a shame; publishers, it seems to me, are demonstrating a singular failure of imagination in not even attempting to persuade the public to buy more collections and readers are missing out on great writing if they insist on sticking only to novels. If the Short Review [see below] can make a minute dent in this wall by reviewing more collections and demonstrate that everything you look for in a novel you can also find in a short story collection, then I will be happy.

You have done something to promote and succour the short story: you set up The Short Review exclusively to review short story collections. I won’t ask the dreaded question “where do you get your ideas”, but I will ask: where did you get that particular idea – and how do you find the time to keep “The Short Review” going and write as well?

Thanks for not asking that first question, I wouldn’t have had the faintest idea how to answer. As for the second, the idea for The Short Review came in the period just after getting the life-altering news that Salt Publishing had accepted my short story collection. I had waited over 30 years for that day, and when it came I felt as if I had had the wind knocked out of me. It was all I ever wanted – and when someone offers you that, what do you do next?

I moped around for a while, and then decided to do something short-story-related but which didn’t actually involve writing. Whereas I had always blamed the lack of sales of short story collections on publishers not publishing enough of them, I realised that the fault also lies with reviewers: short story collections get a small fraction of review column inches compared to novels. I thought I would do my bit to redress the balance. To be honest, when I bought the domain name and set it up, I really thought it would be for me and ten friends. It grew beyond my wildest expectations: we have a mailing list of 400, and I have 35 reviewers around the world who review for me, both new and old collections, across every “genre” (am I allowed to say that??!) and category, from steampunk to erotica, young adult to historical fiction.

Yes, it takes up a great deal of time – I do the maintenance and layout of the site myself, uploading each issue, as well as fielding offers of review copies and finding reviewers to review them, following up to see if they’ve arrived, making sure reviews come in on time, doing as many interviews with authors as possible, and reviewing a book myself each issue – but it is a labour of love and it makes me so happy to do it. Every issue we publish, I want to buy almost all the books we review. The interviews are often enlightening, touching, funny, it’s wonderful to get a peek behind the scenes at the process of putting together a short story collection, and authors have been honest and generous in their answers. I try not to work on the Short Review throughout the month, but do most of the work in one week, so it doesn’t spill into my writing time. But reviewing someone else’s stories teaches me so much about my own writing, and inspires me greatly, as do the interviews, so I don’t think of it as interfering, more as enriching my writing life.

You live and write in Jerusalem. What impact do the many and intertwined special circumstances of Jerusalem – religious, political, military, and personal – have on your writing, and on your circumstances as a writer?

A very interesting question. I have several author friends who used to live in Jerusalem and had to leave because they found it too stressful to write there. But I love the atmosphere, I wake up in the morning thrilled to be living here. Yes, it’s hard, the news is full of tragedy, on all sides, but there are so many small moments of joy, just the way the sun glints off the golden stones, the way Israelis will talk to you everywhere about anything, the atmosphere on the Sabbath – Shabbat – when the whole city closes down, few cars on the road, people are walking to and from synagogue, to and from dinner. There is magic in the air. No wonder people have been fighting over Jerusalem for thousands of years.

For each copy of “The White Road” published, a tree has been planted through the Eco-Libris scheme. Is this idea of offsetting the greenhouse gas emissions from books catching on with authors and publishers you’re in contact with? Have you been satisfied with the way it’s working?

I came across Eco-Libris two years ago, just as I was finishing up my career as a journalist – it was established by Israelis in Israel and the US – and I loved what they were doing so much that I decided I had to write about them. Then, when Salt wanted to publish my book, I realised that partnering with Eco-Libris would ease my guilt about wanting a beautiful book made from many trees, as well as, I hope, spreading the word about what Eco-Libris does. I pay them a certain amount per book for them to plant a tree per book in developing countries around the world, where they are working with the locals to find out what is best for them. They have also been furiously publicising my book – which may be the only short story collection ever to have had a tree planted for each copy printed – on green and environmentally-conscious sites around the world, and I am very grateful for that. I will be “appearing” on the Eco-Libris blog on Dec 10th as part of this Virtual Book Tour, so will, no doubt, be talking more about our partnership then, but so far, I am delighted!

Finally, a question from left field. Your collection “The White Road and Other Stories” has 27 stories. My collection “Transported” has 27 stories. Should the reading public be concerned? Are we the vanguard of a new literary movement, the “Group of 27”?

An excellent idea! I’ll buy the domain name, you invite people. I am sure 27 has mystical roots – divisible by 9 and 3 only, that sounds mystical to me! Hmm, we’ll have to talk about this more, definitely.

Walking the White Road: Tania Hershman on Tour Oct 2008-Jan 2009

Next stop on the tour:

Previous stops:

An Interview with Jeanne Bernhardt


Jeanne Bernhardt was born in 1961 in Christchurch, NZ. After being expelled from school she left Dunedin. She has spent her life travelling and living throughout NZ, Australia, the South Pacific and the United States. She was first published in the early ’80’s. Her books include baby is this wonderland?’, ‘The snow poems’ and ‘The deafmans chorus’. She was the recipient of the Louis Johnson New Writers Bursary in 1997. To support her writing she has had a variety of work including, working on a fishing boat in Alaska, caretaker of cattle ranch in NM, farmer, working with street kids in Australia, librarian, labourer, drug counsellor etc. She attended the University of NSW majoring in art theory and installation.

Fast Down Turk, published by Kilmog Press, is her latest book. Currently based in Dunedin, she plans on returning to America next year.

First of all, congratulations on the publication of Fast Down Turk. What can you tell me about the book, and where can interested readers find more information, and copies to buy?

Thank you. Parsons in Auckland are the main stockists. In Dunedin, there’s UBS and Renaissance Books and direct from the publisher which is Kilmog Press also based in Dunedin. We will have it available in Wellington and Christchurch too but these deals are still being negotiated. The book? Well as the blurb says —

The blurb describes FDT as “a harrowing account of scoring drugs in the tenderloin”. That’s likely to grab some potential readers right away, others might prefer not to be harrowed. Are the latter readers just going to have to get used to it? What might draw the undecided reader into the story?

Well it’s reality, the fact that it reveals a facet of life that isn’t widely experienced, except of course for the people who are living it. Its pace, the writing etc. These are aspects that attract readers but the other side is that it’s a woman’s take which is rare, and the place where she ends up which is one of self darkness deglamourises certain preconceptions. That unsettling factor is good; its keeps you on edge and when you’re on edge other things can happen. So no, it’s not a happy book but depending on who you are or where you are that can be reassuring; other people go down too. And going down is part of life it isn’t intrinsically wrong or terrible or something to be rescued from, the great thing about Rachel (the main character is the book) is that despite the negativity of situation surrounding her, it is her responsibility, her choice. And she is discovering what her position on these choices mean. Because every individuals capacity or strength or journey is unique, and for whatever reason – spiritual, psychological, this is where Rachel is, what she’s going through.

I have never been able to boast a real “writers’ CV” full of interesting and unusual jobs. But you can; I see that you have worked on a fishing boat in Alaska, worked with street kids in Australia, been the caretaker of a cattle ranch in New Mexico, a farmer, librarian, labourer, drug counsellor etc. Do you think of it all as vital experience or do you think “I wish I’d spent that time writing instead?”

Of course it’s vital, not primarily as a writer but for myself as a human being. Its my life. My curiosity and hunger has always been great. I’m here, planet earth, to grow, to experience and that isn’t predictable and I wouldn’t want it to be. My life hasn’t taken writing time. My life gives me writing time. I always write. My life is it.

I see that John Dolan has described FDT as a ‘remarkable achievement, an amazing story’ – high praise indeed. How did that endorsement come about, and how much has it meant in publicising the book?

Well I sent the rough MS of Fast Down Turk to John and he wrote back his thoughts. We’re friends you know, we’re friends because of who we are.

I see that you’ve had both poetry and prose published previously. Are you still writing both poetry and prose? Or are you concentrating on prose at the moment?

Well I’m busy doing the final draft of a short story collection (Wood) due out early next year, also with Kilmog Press. It was a two book deal. The stories from Wood and Fast Down Turk were worked on at the same time. But we decided to publish Fast Down Turk first.

What poets have had the most influence on yr work, and which poets do you most enjoy reading?

Celan, Rilke, Rumi, Basho, Whitman, Paz, Neruda, William Carlos Williams, etc etc.

How about prose writers?

Kerouac, Dylan Thomas, Marguerite Duras, Willa Cather, Katherine Anne Porter, DH Lawrence, Henry Miller, Mary McCarthy, Ronald Hugh Morrieson, Richard Wright, James Baldwin, Bernard Malamud, Thoreau, Jean Rhys, Patrick White, Arthur Miller, Paul Bowles, Jane Bowles etc.

I read all the time.

An Interview with Harvey Molloy

Harvey Molloy is a Wellington teacher and poet whose first collection of poetry, Moonshot, has just been published – which made this a very good time to interview him by email.

First of all, congratulations on the publication of Moonshot. What can you tell me about the book, and where can interested readers find more information, and copies to buy?

Moonshot is my first book of poems. It’s divided into two sections. The first ‘Gemini spacewalk’ explores space, the universe, and how space features in the imagination. The second section ‘Learning the t’ is down to earth and concerned with travel, particularly my time in Singapore, and family relationships. The book is orchestrated to follow these themes but some poems don’t fit this pattern and I’ve included them because I like the poems. You can find out more about the book over at my blog at http://harveymolloy.blogspot.com and you can order the book from me from the blog.

Moonshot is your first poetry collection: a significant milestone for any poet. How long have you been working towards having this first collection published?

I started to write poetry again back in the mid 90s. In 2000 I moved to Singapore to work at the National University of Singapore. At this time I became interested in Asperger Syndrome, which is an autism spectrum disorder, and wrote some research articles in this area. After Latika and I finished our book Asperger Syndrome and Adolescence: Looking Beyond the Label, which was published in 2004, and moved back to New Zealand, I began to focus more seriously on the poetry. About four years ago I decided that I had enough poems published in different journals to put together a manuscript. So I guess I’ve been working on it seriously for four years or so although it’s been on my mind for around eight years.

They say “It’s tough oop North”, and if it is, the two of us should know, since you were born in Oldham and I in Grimsby. Though you’ve lived in many countries since then – the States, Singapore, New Zealand – do you think there’s a Northern English sensibility to your poetry?

Yes, I do. The northern sensibility comes through in the sound of the words. Living right on the Pennines also has a powerful effect: the northern landscape is incredibly varied: it’s both ruggedly rural and horribly industrial all within the same borough. I think that there’s a particularly Manchester sensibility: it’s part humour, part gothic horror, and part self-parody. Lancastrian is the only accent that sounds as if it’s mocking itself or refusing to take itself seriously whilst also sounding out the very roots of the language. And I also think there’s a ‘Lancastrian male hysteric’ element in the culture; northern masculinity is very different and more feminine than the ‘kiwi bloke’ culture: you see this in Billy Liar, in Alan Garner’s novels, in Amis’s Lucky Jim, and in bands like The Fall, Joy Division, Magazine and The Smiths, etc.

We have something else in common: an interest in science, and in science fiction. I was intrigued and impressed to see that you’ve put the science and science fiction poetry up front in “Moonshot”, whereas in my books, it’s been tucked discreetly down the back. What made you decide to put this section first?

Part of this has to do with Helen Rickerby’s advice. I sent an early version of the manuscript to her and she suggested that I organise my material more thematically and write more about space. Although all the threads were there until I had her help I couldn’t see the shape I wanted. I’m not that fixated on SF or space – the new work is different – but I am committed to what I very loosely think of as a SF or fantasy sensibility that I clicked on around age 12. I remember seeing J.G. Ballard on a BBC book programme when I was 13, talking about his novel Crash. It just reprogrammed me in much the same way that Alan Garner’s Redshift changed my life. Garner’s and Ballard’s work aren’t SF or fantasy but they are deeply concerned with ‘psycho-landscapes’ or unusual geographies. I wanted the astronomical poems up the front as many poets write about their families and their childhoods but few write about astronomy.

When I jotted down the recurring themes of this collection, the words “astronomy”, “history”, “geography” and “myth” appeared. Have I made them all up? Have I missed any? Why do these areas especially interest you?

No, I think that’s accurate but “history”, “geography” and “myth” are also connected with family life. I’m married to an Indian New Zealander and part of me lives in an Indian world and this hopefully comes through in some of the poems. In some ways, I think each individual is a culture with their own myths and I’m trying to explore some of these myths. But I’m also trying to include a variety of different voices and concerns in the poems.

Which poets have had the most influence on your work, and which poets do you most enjoy reading? (Of course, these might be one and the same.)

The following are a selection of poets I love to read and who have moved me: Hone Tuwhare, James K. Baxter, Elizabeth Smither, Sylvia Plath, Seamus Heaney, T.S. Eliot, Adrienne Rich (marvellous), Philip Larkin, etc. and I’m particularly fond of Alistair Paterson’s Qu’appelle (talk about a SF sensibility: Wellington gets nuked!). Recent books I’ve enjoyed are Sue Wootton’s Magnetic South and Helen Rickerby’s My Iron Spine.

How about prose writers?

Alan Garner’s an amazing writer and I think Neil Gaiman’s brilliant: it’s a pity that Gaiman’s film work doesn’t match his prose. And Samuel R Delany’s Dhalgren has a lot to answer for! I also enjoy reading good science writing and have wide ranging reading habits: I’m currently on the last chapters of George Eliot’s Middlemarch and next up will be Mary McCallum’s The Blue.

A tough one to end on: if you had to choose three words to describe your writing, what would they be?

On the line

A Watched Book Never Sells

So I’m sitting in the food court area of Wellington Airport. I’m heading up to Auckland for a conference. Due to bad weather, my flight has been delayed for 90 minutes. That’s bad – it will make the kind person who’s picking me up from the airport late. But it has a good side: I’ve had the chance to sign the copies of my short story collection Transported in the Wellington Airport Whitcoulls.

The staff are very well organised. The books are on a nice little display cabinet near the entrance to the shop, and they have a pen and a bunch of “Personally Autographed” stickers close at hand. I kneel down in front of the display, sign each book, and carefully place a sticker on the front. There are 17 copies to sign – that’s good, because I know the bookshop started with 20. I rise to my feet (wishing I hadn’t decided to wear both my jacket and my raincoat onto the flight as the easiest way of carrying them).

But now I’m about 50 metres from the bookstore, nursing a coffee, doing a spot of work, and peering intently at the foot traffic into and out of Whitcoulls. Nobody is stopping at the display of Transporteds. Are they too low, too far below eye level? Should I have piled them up higher when I put them back on the stand? Is the blue “Personally Autographed” sticker on the front putting people off? (I prefer the way Unity does it – instead of putting stickers on each book, they put a nice “Signed Copies” notice on top of the pile.) And, though I really like the cover, does it stand out enough from the gaudier books around it?

Eventually they call my flight and I head off to Auckland. The conference goes very well. While waiting for my flight back to Wellington, I sign the copies in the Auckland Airport Whitcoulls. There are less of them, and they are modestly hidden on the shelves. It’s still good to see them, though, these old friends in unfamiliar places.

I’m aware this is all rather pathetic. I’m aware I should get over myself. Just as a watched pot never boils, so a watched book never sells. But whenever I walk past a bookstore that stocks Transported, I find it very hard not to go in and see if any have sold. Half the stock in the Wellington Borders has sold – joy! None have sold in Dymocks – damn, if only I’d been able to give a more exciting description of the book when Bruce Caddie asked me how they should describe it to customers.

The world faces multiple, interlocking problems: peak oil, climate change, food shortages … the list goes on. I have work to do, a family to love, and a novel to be getting on with. But I took some visitors to Wellington Airport today, and – I stopped after farewelling my visitors and counted – now there are only 15 copies on that display. Two more copies have sold – yes!

Even the outrageous carpark fees (if only we had light rail out to the airport!) can’t dampen the feeling, so precious, so fleeting, of success.

UPDATE

A review of Transported and author interview with me have just been published by The Short Review. Thank you, Tania and the team!