Books
CLASSIC WALKS OF NEW ZEALAND
Revised and Updated Edition, 2009
By Craig Potton.
Reviewed by Penny Redward.
3rd March…. 2010
Craig Potton, renowned for his New Zealand landscape photography is also a leading conservationist and founder of Craig Potton Publishing.
The original Classic Walks of New Zealand sold over 32,000 copies. There is a high chance the fully updated version will do even better; as it is likely to be bought by the ever increasing numbers of baby-boomers who are fit, retiring and planning to go tramping.
Stewart Island, Kepler, Milford, Routeburn, Heaphy, Abel Tasman, Mt. Taranaki, Ruapehu/Tongariro, and Waikaremoana have been chosen to
“…spur readers to once more get out and experience nature”.
An avid tramper, recently retired, but of only “medium fitness”, I have completed four of these walks and dipped into four others. Is this book going to inspire me to do more? complete the unfinished ones? or – is it going to sit on my very small coffee table to show my friends the photos I wish I had taken?
Although Potton did not intend
“…to produce a guide that explains routes … in any great detail…”
for the type of walk featured, it does provide adequate guidelines, some very practical suggestions, track lengths/times, and hut conditions.
Generally, the Bird’s Eye Maps by GraphX are easy to interpret, although they have the unnerving habit of leaving gaps in the yellow track line; presumably where the trail goes behind a mountain so high that even the birds can’t see it. Surely these rather arbitrary yellow lines could just continue with a little bird’s eye licence.
The photographs are of course exquisite, one would expect nothing less.
Potton writes with authority, but simply, on geographic features, bird and plant life; notes where these are specific, endangered or prolific and how it impacts on the walk. It is, however, his enthusiasm that will inspire readers to start tramping again; his descriptive notes are always positive, even in the deepest mud holes he finds something to appreciate!
“.. a superb kettle bog, a soggy mire where … swamp orchids and diminutive sundews waver amongst rustling wires of rush and green sphagnum moss.”
Particularly appealing to me was the underlining message to take time; to dawdle even:
“It’s a place to wander nowhere slowly…”
“… it’s worth lugging extra food or going hungry to stay at least two nights…”
So? - yes:
buy the book,
be inspired,
go tramping,
but don’t leave it on the coffee table – pass it on to a friend.
Beyond the Figleaf
By Donald Urquhart-Hay
Steele Roberts (39.99)
Reviewed by Alan Tristram
The subtitle for this fascinating medical pourri is “Essays on urology, sex and medical miscellania”, which is certainly an attention grabber.
The author is a prominent Wellington specialist who has achieved distinction in other fields as well, including medical administration.
The book comprises a collection of talks – not all on strictly medical subjects – given to learned societies over the years.
So the reader can be selective and select the subjects which are most interesting.
I found many riveting.
Few men could read the chapters on ‘The History of Urethal Strictures’ and “The Knife and the Stone (bladder stone)” without wincing at the sheer bloody brutality of the early treatment methods.
Brutality of Female Circumcision
But one chapter, above all, makes the book a ‘must’ for all civilized liberal readers – “Circumcision.”
One can accept the argument for male circumcision. But no-one can read about female circumcision practices without feeling disgusted and repelled by the brutal savagery of circumcisers driven by superstition, religion and tribal custom.
“The delayed complications (of female circumcision) are obstetric, gynaecological or genitourinary in nature,” Urquhart Hayes says. “The Pharonic (most drastic) circumcision is followed frequently by …urinary problems …usually chronic urinary infection.”
It’s not a minor problem. Urquhart Hay says World Health Organisation figures show that each year up to two million young females are at risk in Somalia, Ethiopia and Eritrea alone.
Urology gives book the edge
But the chapters that chart the progress of urology from primitive beginnings to the – thank God – antiseptic efficiency of modern times are the one that give this book its edge.
Mr Urquhart Hay is an acknowledged Australasian expert in his field and it shows through in his writing.
Samuel Pepys -- Got early and painful operation
Other chapters on related medical matters and personalities – from Samuel Pepys (Pictured Left) and his bladder stone to Florence Nightingale – are well worth the once-over-lightly treatment.
“The History of Sex” is, well, brief but interesting and sure to have something for all.
I wasn’t aware for instance that among great military gays one can
include Mountbatten, Lord Kitchener, Lawrence of Arabia from the British upper class and Julius Caesar, Achilles and Alexandra the Great from classical history.
On the other hand, the chapters on the Victoria Cross and the Urulogical Society coat of arms could probably have been omitted without damaging the whole.
All in all, a worthwhile book that repays a careful reading. And, being a compilation, it can be picked up and read occasionally without fear of losing the plot.
Prepare to be shocked, but you’ll also be amused by the author’s ability to leaven the dire with a dose of wit. Recommended in short doses.
Back from the Edge, by Dr Meg Carbonatto
(Cape Catley $36.99)
Reviewed by Gemini
Fifteen stories — of death, displacement, mishap, disease, of trials by fire and water — make up this remarkable collection of studies by a most communicative psychotherapist. The stories themselves are matter-of-fact, well-told and well detailed accounts of people who have survived great challenges in their lives.
Jack Finn is one. He inherited a bleeding disorder then was poisoned with bad blood that caused such a crisis among haemophiliacs in New Zealand in the early 1990s. He was bullied at school because of his disorder and then became involved in the quest for compensation as a result of medical misadventure that saw about half the haemophiliac population get Hepatitis C or AIDS or both.
While both Hep C and bleeding vulnerability gave Jack Finn problems of their own, he became seriously interested in outdoor adventure — and was able to see beyond the challenges of illness: “I think in many ways it opened a few other doors.”
He enrolled in AUT’s two-year diploma course in outdoor education and leadership — against odds which AUT was quick to identify. However he coped with the inevitable problems and graduated with his diploma and also the “True Grit Award” for challenge, endeavour and perseverance in the outdoors.
“Just being able to get through with the haemophilia without having any major problems was an achievement . . . we would be out in the hills and I would have to inject lots of blood products because I’d have a small injury and I’d need to get my blood clotting more . . . I think my colleagues felt that it was good that I was getting out there and getting on track.
“I have a strong will. A lot of it’s in the head, what you’re able to go for.”
Thus Jack Finn’s emerging life purpose gained clarity as he realised he was infusing other people with enthusiasm merely by achieving his own goals. He cycled the length of New Zealand in 39 days, did a solo kayak crossing of Cook Strait, an epic journey that combined personal challenge with doing something for other people and, eventually, he became “Jack’s Journeys” an Auckland-based kayaking guide.
Each of these stories is prefaced by Dr Carbonatto’s “resilience notes” headings which are elaborated as each account unfolds. In Jack Finn’s chapter the headings are
- Go beyond pain to gain meaning
- Create a purpose larger than yourself
- Motivate yourself first
- Make positive comparisons with similar others
- Do positive, silver-lining thinking
I rather like the “silver-lining thinking” approach which devolves from Jack Finn’s tendency to be optimistic in explaining adverse events. After one harrowing setback, while kayaking around the Auckland Islands, he was despondent about the success of the entire expedition. But a few days later his “silver-lining” syndrome had set in. Only part of the trip had to be cancelled: “The expedition took a lot of time and cost me a lot of money, but . . . I made the right decision and it was a great trip.”
Closer to home there’s the fascinating survival story of Navy diver Rob Hewitt who was caught up in a rip near Mana Island, lost contact with his diving group and spent three nights and parts of four days in the sea. The run of the tides took him up the coast past the bulk of Kapiti Island and back again close to Mana. Air and sea searchers combed the area — and eventually a police launch with his Navy buddies on board found him still alive.
Dr Carbonatto describes Hewitt’s survival as “sensational on many levels” and admits the simple truth that if he didn’t manage to stay together physically, his psychological survival was going to be irrelevant: “Throughout his ordeal Rob was able to call upon his rigorous Navy training which had one basic rule — train to survive.”
The author’s other resilience notes include setting contingency goals, engaging your will but knowing when to surrender, being open to spirit and never giving up hope.
Rob Hewitt’s narrative describes how well he used his skills — conserving his energy rather than fighting the current, riding the southerly swells, keeping his body compact when circled by a shark, loosening his wetsuit when hot during the day, closing it up tightly at night. He called on his Maori martial arts training for self-discipline and endurance, and on his Maori spiritual environment to remain in tune with out-of-body experiences and with the gods of sea, wind and storms.
All the stories in Back from the Edge have their own appeal and they are extremely varied. Some are set in Australia. All are of quite recent origin. The author’s analyses often overlap, of course, but they give exemplary insights into the multi-faceted nature of adversity and the comparatively compact set of mental survival aids that enabled people to weather painful journeys and personal tragedies.
Summary: Well-presented, inspirational reading.
Parrot and Olivier in America, by Peter Carey
(Penguin/Hamish Hamilton $55)
Reviewed by Gemini
Peter Carey, an Aussie domiciled in New York for many years, has a good deal of incisive comment on the old world and the new in this cracking reincarnation of Alexis de Tocqueville’s mid-1800s reflections on social and political development in America.
Tocqueville’s oft-quoted Democracy in America set Carey on the case. However don’t be discouraged by that. Carey’s engaging narrative between the two protagonists is consistently comical.
And what an unlikely couple. Olivier de Garmont is a young French aristocrat, suffering agonies of leech-monitored health and post-revolution family displacement.
Parrot is older, a printer’s devil, son of itinerant English printer Jack Larrit, and named for his carrot-coloured hair.
Their destinies somehow intertwine with the help of a one-armed French mystery man and when Olivier is sent to study American prisons (and avoid political torment in France) Parrot is with him as a servant, protector and critic. Parrot rarely lets slip an occasion to poke fun at the aristocracy.
Closer to home his employer becomes “Lord Migraine” in Parrot’s asides. Olivier never assumes that a servant may be anything but a servant and therein lies his frequent confusion with the state of égalité in America.
Both get by very well by dint of native cunning and enjoying the confidence of having survived some startling adventures. Their friendship survives some hard knocks of passion, penury and drunken nights.
There are some brilliant set pieces. Early on Parrot escapes as the printery where his father works goes up in flames fuelled by white spirit cleaning fluid.
Some of the printers had been producing illicit currency on a secret upstairs press and they’d been flushed out by officials:
The forgers, some alive, some dying, burst out through the exploding roof tiles: “A great flock of bats burst forth and in among the bats, at first almost indistinguishable from them, a thousand sheets of paper tipped with Pentecostal tongues . . . up the hill I went, a musket ball whizzing past me like a hornet on the chase”.
Olivier, too, has his moments. Arriving at the Crooked Billet Wharf in Philadelphia to be met by a reception committee of Quakers: “Five severe gentlemen in those ridiculous clerical hats.
“What dry and juiceless creatures, wrapped like ravens, furled like umbrellas in the low sad mist . . . members of the Society for the Alleviation of the Miseries of the Public Prisons awaited us”.
Survival is Parrot’s forte. He has walked countless roads, slept under too many hedges and now regards America as his last hope for a settled life.
For Olivier the passing parade is an arm’s length contemplation of the American democratic dream as if it were an aristocratic obligation to be unaffected by it.
He is bothered by Americans’ quest for prosperity and their anxious determination to value free choices by free people: “They are the most turbulent, unpeaceful, least-contented people, far worse than Italians and Greeks. Clearly there is nothing less suited to meditation than democracy”.
Summary: Joyful, well-presented book that adds greatly to Carey’s award-winning reputation.
Harrrowing Saga of
Postwar Berlin
Pavel & I, by Dan Vyleta (Bloomsbury, $59.99)
Reviewed by Gemini
If you’re riveted by events that arrive layer on layer in a historical novel this one may well prove addictive – although, by way of a gentle caution, it’s a tad horrific: Not for the faint-hearted.
It is a stark commentary on World War 2 and its aftermath in Berlin,where the main elements in the story mesh around the edges during bleak times under shared Allied control.
Prepare to meet a new badman. Colonel Stuart Melchior Fosko.
Obese, alarmingly ugly, lips like wet sausages, skin the colour of dough, basset’s cheeks, no hair on his head, his British officer’s uniform straining to contain his perfumed body.
On the upside, he is beautifully spoken, moves lightly on his feet — but strikes like a cobra when administering violence or death.
He is certainly the most awful character in this excellent first novel by the son of Czech refugees who went to Germany in the late 1960s. There are other memorable people in this tense and nasty tale of late 1946. But Fosko stays long in the mind.
It’s almost surprising that he dies instead of living on in some way to haunt future readers.
His death is as bizarre as the glimpse of his life in this story. He takes a long time to die — a measure of his monstrosity is that his associates can’t bring themselves to put him out of his agony.
Pavel & I is mostly about Pavel Richter, a de-commissioned GI, and his tormentor Peterson — who is the storyteller.
Peterson plays chess with Pavel in Fosko’s dungeon while waiting for instructions to extract a confession.
There is also Sonia, Fosko’s reluctant mistress, and her former lover and Pavel’s friend Boyd White, a former US serviceman turned to gambling and prostitution, who has little time to live.
A dwarf named Soldmann who has ingratiated himself into the favour of some of the forces occupying Berlin comes and goes with terminal violence. There is an intriguing band of street kids who, like the others, do their best to survive at a time of both difficulty and opportunity in the severe Berlin winter of 1946-47.
Most of the characters have dark secrets; something to hide, something to sell, something to trade for an advantage, some advantage to offer for survival — part of a crucible from which came many of the bones of the Cold War.
The core secret is a piece of microfilm which leads to the hideout of a rocket scientist: Peterson tells his wild story with ferocious pace as the Brits and the Russians try to find the microfilm.
Dan Vyleta’s end-notes include some useful links to reference books about this bleak time in Berlin’s history.
They include references to accounts of the mass rapes by Soviet soldiers after the city’s liberation and to a collection of school essays about how teenagers experienced the first year of peace — both topics that would provide insights into some of the action in Vyleta’s novel.
The Crossing 
by Mandy Hager
Reviewed by Zara Andrews-Goss
When I was first asked to read and write a review on a ‘teen’ novel, I was sceptical. On hearing the word ‘teen’, I immediately thought of soap-opera-like high school dramas, with stereotypical characters saying “No, you hang up first!”, and the modern day issues such as peer pressure, rites of passage, growing up etc. And on first sight of the book, I also had doubts. While the cover art is interesting and aesthetically appealing, it doesn’t really look like the kind of book that I would read. So, almost determined that I wouldn’t enjoy it, I began reading.
For the first few pages I found the book hard to get into. My enjoyment from it was gradual, and I almost didn’t realise I was becoming engrossed. I realised I had become increasingly concerned over the wellbeing of the main character, and I had to keep turning the page to find out how she fared. Set in the Pacific, on a small (imaginary) island called Onewere, Maryam and her people are chosen for their ‘special blood’. When she comes of age, however, she discovers the real purpose of their usefulness to the elite leaders on Onewere, where they are destined to live and `work’ on the dilapidated cruise ship.
Although not the most compelling book I’ve ever read, it did have a sense of intrigue which kept me interested in the story, and I found the historical aspects of it appealing, as it was written in such a way that I felt completely immersed in the novel, like I was a part of it, in another place and time. Although not in my top 10, it was an enjoyable read, and being the first book of the ‘Blood of the Lamb’ series, I will definitely be reading Book Two!
Updated 7th February 2010
