Some Mornings ...

Some mornings, I wake at 5am and there’s no going back to sleep.

And so I read. I caught up on the world, old worlds that I haven’t made time for in a long time.

I quietly made breakfast in this huge house I’ve moved to. I’m now located in one of the most beautiful regions in New Zealand, sharing this space with 3 other remarkable souls. The view out of my bedroom window is of the Remarkables mountain range.

Each day seems to bring some new gift I need to say a quiet ‘thank you’ for. And I love the tiny bed I have here in my little room. My landlord tells me it was his grandma’s, and that every person who has slept in it has commented on how comfortable it is.

Sunday found me revisiting New Zealand’s literary scene, after 2 decades of absence. Witi Ihimaera was speaking at the Queenstown Writers Festival. ‘One of Aotearoa’s greatest storytellers was talking about an extraordinary life and a career in writing that spans half a century.

In the early 1970s Gisborne-born Witi Ihimaera became the first Māori to publish a collection of short stories (Pounamu Pounamu) and a novel (Tangi). He has gone on to become one of the world’s most important indigenous writers with such highly regarded novels as The Matriarch, The Whale Rider and Bulibasha.

His memoirs Māori Boy (2015) and Native Son (2019) will soon be joined by a third. His retelling of Māori creation myths, Navigating the Stars, comes out this year. In fact, he launched there in Queenstown.

Witi Ihimaera is a master story weaver who brings his reader home to a place that transcends space, time and culture – while remaining unambiguously here, now, and Māori.

Quiet tears slipped down my face, and the faces of many others I suspect, as Witi sang for us, and read from his book, and talked of a life-shattering event too. His songs were so powerful, and he returned to it as his story-telling vehicle, repeatedly.

He is an extraordinary story-teller. I am so glad I attended.

I paid a small fee, and joined the local bookclub, and became a member of the cinema too. I was rapt to then receive an invitation to the members-only screening of Made in Italy. It stars one of my favourite actors, Liam Neeson, who stars alongside his son, Micheál Richardson.

Life often seems quite extraordinarily beautiful here. Joy has returned.

It’s as if all that I have loved in the world can be found here. From New Zealand literature, to a vibrant arts and culture scene. Solitude in Nature, but the most remarkable gathering of interesting people in any one place I’ve ever lived. Good coffee, fabulous cafes, and then Fat Badger’s have the best pizza I have eaten outside of Italy. There is a French bakery, with French staff, and an Italian restaurant, with a Genovese chef. He’s a little gruff, in the tradition of the sons of Zena, however perhaps he will soften.

There are, at least, two Bellbirds in the new garden, and rabbits too. I’m living out of Queenstown, in the countryside and yet not too far from the centre.

The cost is about the same as living in Manapouri, that small village of 200 … And it was also loved by me but lacked the breadth and depth I find here. However it’s only 2 hours down the road, through some mountains so I’ll go back when I need some big deep lungfuls of Beech forests on massive mountains, next to deep and moody lakes.

Life moves on. I’ve moved home, again. And my work plans are exciting but involve more than a few hours, as I establish myself. The journey has begun. All is good.

the road.jpg

A Handful of Books I Have Loved ...

Discovered in the Centro Storico, Genova.  Italy.

Discovered in the Centro Storico, Genova. Italy.

I have always been an avid reader. I love the places book take me, and I have always loved escaping into other worlds.

A friend asked me to recommend a few.

Here’s the list I made for Jonė.

Fugitive Pieces by Anne Michaels

Dinner with Edward: A Story of an Unexpected Friendship Vincent, Isabel

Running in the Family - Michael Ondaatje (his magical realism bio)

Love That Moves the Sun: Vittoria Colonna and Michelangelo Buonarroti - Linda Cardillo

A Fortune-Teller Told Me: Earthbound Travels in the Far East - Tiziano Terzani

I Saw Ramallah - Mourid Barghouti

What Remains - Denise Leith

In Xanadu - a Quest - William Dalrymple

The Journey is the Destination - Dan Eldon

Veronika Decidies to Die - Paulo Coelho

Nomad's Hotel - travels in time and space - Cees  Nooteboom

Travels with Herododus -  Ryszard  Kapuściński

Blindness -   José Saramago

The Way of Herodotus: Travels With the Man Who Invented History - Justin Marozzi

 When Nietzsche Wept - Irvin D.  Yalom

Mornings in Jenin - Susan  Abulhawa

Knulp - Hermann Hesse

The Truth About Lou -  Angela von der Lippe

Under The Wire - Paul Conroy

I Met This Man While At The Wedding In Norway ... this poet, this writer

We met after the wedding, as he photographed a particular gate there at the church.  He told me the story of the place where he and his wife were married, and how the gate reminded him of it.

I mentioned that he reminded me of someone. 

He suggested James Joyce. 

I said, 'Maybe', as I rummaged round in my memory for images of Joyce.

It turns out, everyone else said he was Elton John ... 20 years ago.  I didn't really look at Elton then but perhaps.  There is a story about a carriage full of people on the Tube, or a train, thinking precisely that about him.

You can decide.

But perhaps he is simply one of those people who allow you to feel like you've known him a long time, and you respond to that.

On the day after the wedding, I wandered over to his website, and found this poem.  I love it.

An extract, from Out of Shape Sonnet:

This is one of those tuneless songs of hope
A father scatters out into the universe
Because he wants the best for his child;
Independence,
Success of the non-material kind,
And, above all, happiness,
Happiness of the forever kind
.

And then, Ren had a copy of his book, Bee Bones.  You can buy a signed copy over here.

I read enough, between processing the wedding photographs, to know I'll find my own copy now that I'm back in the UK.  I reached that point where the father and son have just begun their journey ...

His book, Dead Men, was nominated for the Guardian First Book Award.  It's another to hunt down, sooner or later.

A review:
Washington Independent Review of Books, 18 June 2012
Who said literary works tend to be boring? This debut novel by Richard Pierce proves a poetically written narrative can also be riveting and engrossing.
This is not a lengthy novel and the author uses every word, sentence and verbal image to craft and layer his themes. This is a love story, a historical novel, a polar expedition and a ghostly tale. From an initial improbability, page after page draws the reader in.  As the author’s first effort at full-length fiction, it is a notable success. I highly recommend this novel.

Arthur Kerns.

You can read more on his website.

I met this man, and his wife, at the wedding and they are, so very kindly, allowing me to use the photographs I took of them.  

Richard Pierce was born in Doncaster in 1960.
 
He was educated in Germany, and at the University of Cambridge.

He now lives in Suffolk with Marianne and their four children.

Richard is a novelist, poet and painter, and administers two charities

He has a Youtube channel, and an Amazon author's page too, if you would like to know more.

And so it goes ...

I'm realising how extraordinarily privileged I am, in terms of people I know.  I have so many unplanned adventures gifted to me, like Norway.  And friends who simply step up next to me when they see I need help ... because I'm not good at asking.

When I head off on these adventures, I'm only packing my camera, my laptop and myself, nothing more usually.  And best of all, I get meet more marvelous people who often become new friends.

And so it goes.

These days in Norway have been spent on the edge of Ren and Egil's world, sharing the house with their lovely friends ... Becky and Japhet, Joshua & Jonah.   

And at their wedding I met some of the 'legends' I had heard stories about, people I was so glad to finally meet ... like Lydia Lápidus Radlow, who is as marvelous, or perhaps more marvelous, than I could have imagined.

I met and photographed Richard Pierce, the writer and poet, and count myself extraordinarily fortunate to have been introduced to his writing.  I have been dipping in and out of one his books, Bee Bones - 'sharing' it with Becky (whenever she puts it down) but will buy my own copy when I'm back home.

I met Richard while he was photographing an iron gate at the church and then photographed both he and his beautiful wife, more than a few times.

So many people met on this visit.  I had the luck to sit next to Kjetil and Sølve, with Odd, Marianne, and Kristin, making the dinner so very enjoyable.

And then there is Sissel, captured in the photograph at the top of this post.  Isn't she truly divine.  And her husband, that guy from Scotland, I adored him too, and his stories.

This morning, Marcelle messaged me, offering to pick me up from the airport when I return to England and I almost cried with gratitude.  I had mapped out my route, and was fine with it but to be picked up and taken home ...that's truly unexpected.   And so very very kind.

And so it goes ...