by Julia Kuttner
The Conductor, by Sarah Quigley
The Siege of Leningrad has earned its place in 20th century history as one of the most horrifying events of the Second World War. Much has been written to record a great city’s descent into starvation, death, and the barbarism that desperate citizens visited upon each other in their efforts to stay alive. Leningrad, the City of Ghosts: bombed and strafed night and day by the Luftwaffe and hammered mercilessly by the German troops on its borders, it is a miracle that there were still people alive and sane at the end of the siege, more than 800 days after it began.
Sarah Quigley ‘s novelized account of the Siege, and the reaction to it by the city’s cultural elite stands alone; it’s more than just a story of the composition of a Symphony by Dimitri Shostakovich, his 7th, called the Leningrad Symphony, his evocation of the horrors of war and his attempts to make sense and beauty of an ugly world; it’s also a powerful and compelling tribute to the courage, tenacity and willpower of a group of starving musicians of the Leningrad Radio Orchestra, led with iron resolve by the Conductor Karl Eliasberg. A fellow student of the Conservatoire with Shostakovich, he could never hope to aspire to similar greatness, instead having to employ his more workmanlike talents to lead the second-string orchestra of Leningrad, perpetually battling his contradictory feelings of envy for always being on the periphery of the elite social circle surrounding Shostakovich, and his true admiration for his genius.
It took this reader at least a quarter of the novel to engage with Ms. Quigley’s characters; initially I felt that they were two-dimensional and forced, but as the story progresses and she finds her wonderful rhythm the events are revealed with a stark beauty and terrible clarity that nails the reader to the page; there’s no escape from the horror and tragedy besetting the Conductor (when the country’s leaders order Eliasberg and his orchestra to perform Shostakovich’s newly completed 7th Symphony to boost the morale of the people, there are only 14 of his original musicians left alive – the rest have starved to death), he must find anyone who has the breath to blow a horn, and a huge reserve of determination within himself to complete the task – and survive.
When Ms Quigley writes of music, the SOUND of it, she makes beautiful music herself; In my reading experience there has been only one other writer who could do the same, and that was Anne Patchett in ‘Bel Canto’. What a singular gift this is, and how fortunate we are to enjoy it. As an added bonus, this book comes with an audio CD of Shostakovich’s Leningrad Symphony – what a delight to listen to the music whilst reading the book.
11.22.63, by Stephen King

Stephen King has produced an astonishing body of work during the course of his career – 52 novels at last count – and all involved to a greater or lesser degree with fantasy, the supernatural and outright horror: this time he decides to explore time travel, and the consequences of going back to alter cataclysmic events in world history. What would happen, say, if someone was able to return to 1963 – and prevent the assassination of President John F. Kennedy by Lee Harvey Oswald?
Maine English teacher Jake Epping is provided with the opportunity to do just that in 2011, through the existence of a time portal in an old diner soon to be removed to make way for a national chain store. He is introduced to this phenomenon by the terminally ill manager of the diner and begins his mission very reluctantly, first trying out a ‘dummy run’ of going back to 1958 to alter the fate of a person very dear to him, the janitor at the school in which he teaches. To anyone who grew up in the 50’s, Mr. King’s version of those years is solid and sound; his ear for idiom and his eye for detail is as sharp and funny as always and, as always, he can build suspense and dread within the fluttering heart of any reader with effortless ease.
This book covers a lot of emotional and historical ground; it’s a whopper in size, feeling and scope, and it poses some fascinating questions, including what state the world would be in if Kennedy HAD survived his assassination – would the Vietnam war have really been avoided, and hundreds of thousands of lives saved – or would something even worse have happened, because as Jake finds out more than once, history is obdurate: it doesn’t like to be tampered with, and will throw up many obstacles in the path of anyone who will try to do just that. This is an exceptional story from a very fine storyteller. Highly recommended.
Wouldn’t it be presumptuous – but fun! - to have a Horowhenua Library Best Reads of 2011? After all, it’s that time of year when all the august publications – TheNew York Times, Time magazine (and don’t forget The Listener!) et al present their lists of the crème de la crème of contemporary writing. Well, a cat may look at a king, so I shall take it upon myself to compile my very own highly subjective list of the best of the titles I reviewed for the Library for 2011.
1. Agaat, by Marlene Van Niekerk
2. The Tiger’s Wife, by Tea Obreht
3. The Passage, by Justin Cronin
4. The Wake of Forgiveness, by Bruce Machart
5. Swamplandia, by Karen Russell
6 & 7 Sea of Poppies and River of Smoke, by Amitav Ghosh
8. Hokitika Town, by Charlotte Randall
9. La Rochelle’s Road, by Tanya Moir
10. The Larnachs, by Owen Marshall
11. A Visit from the Goon Squad, by Jennifer Egan
12. The Last Werewolf, by Glen Duncan
13. The Conductor, by Sarah Quigley
14. 11.22.63, by Stephen King
I f anyone requires more detail (and my usual verbosity) about any of the above titles, just scroll down; they are all below in various monthly sections. And I’d like to say this: isn’t it great that we have a library that punches waaay above its weight, providing us with such excellent reading choices. Levin is fortunate indeed. Happy New Year to all.



Owen Marshall is one of New Zealand’s foremost writers, and demonstrates his unique literary voice once again as he chronicles in his latest novel the successes and tragedies of the Larnach family of Dunedin. He is careful to stress in a foreword that his book is a fictional account of events that happened to real people, but such is his skill in drawing convincing portraits of his characters that the reader has no choice but to believe every word he writes.
Since its publication last year this novel has generated extraordinary praise, not least being included in Time magazine’s top 10 books for 2010 and this year winning the Pulitzer Prize for fiction. Even Oprah endorsed it. (Is that good or bad?) I approached it with trepidation: was it too great for mere mortals to read? ( I have been caught before). Oh me of little faith: All the reviews are true. This story fully deserves every accolade lavished by the literary pundits – and anyone else who wants to have a wild ride through time with Ms Egan as she explores through her characters the different selves we all become at different times of our lives. Through a dizzying series of flashbacks and leaps forward, the reader follows Bennie Salazar, failed music producer and his personal assistant Sasha, ‘capable in every way but for her kleptomania’ as they are moulded and buffeted by the forces of time, and the influence and effect they have on their world through the connections they make, both intimate and tenuous, with the people they meet. There is a host of different characters here, and sometimes it takes the reader a little while to connect the dots, but when that happens, a wonderful pointillist portrait emerges of our flawed and ailing contemporary society – (there’s even a powerpoint presentation!), and an irrevocable truth that time rules us all: the onrush of it; its implacability; and how peoples’ lives are helpless before it and the inexorable changes it makes. In Ms. Egan’s novel time is a Goon, and no-one escapes a visit from the Goon Squad, but Bennie, after a lifetime’s vicissitudes is no fool: he knows the score – ‘ Time’s a goon – are you going to let time push you around?’ No, sir! This is a great book.
Guess who’s back! Messrs. Lincoln and Child have been working their little tails off to provide fans with the next instalment of the intrepid adventures of FBI Special Agent Aloysius Pendergast, that peerless paragon of perfection in all things, arbiter of funereal fashion excellence – he always wears black designer suits, giving him ‘the look of a wealthy undertaker’ - and lethal weapon in the perpetual battle against the forces of evil. As always, the reader is transported to places near and far, starting in the Scottish Highlands where Pendergast has been shot and left for dead in a swamp by his wicked brother-in-law. He cannot possibly survive shooting and drowning – or can he? Mere mortals would long be contributing to the swamp gases, but not our Aloysius : he manages to haul himself out of the muck and crawl 12 miles (truly!) to shelter and the devoted nursing of a reclusive auld biddie who lives on the wild moors (this is Scotland, remember), gradually returning to good health, thanks to his cast-iron constitution, burning desire for revenge, and the new-found knowledge that his beloved wife Helen, killed twelve years before by a lion (!) is actually still alive. And as the ultimate plot device, Lincoln and Child have brought in the Neo-Nazis in the shape of a diabolical organization called The Covenant. What CAN one say? Except that you’ll just have to keep on reading all this glorious silliness to find out WHAT HAPPENS NEXT. These books are seriously good fun and I can’t wait for the next one: will Aloysius be reunited with his wife, captured by said evil Neo- Nazis? Will Aloysius be able to sustain yet another gunshot wound? (He is now more ventilated than a Swiss Cheese.) Will his ward Constance Green reveal where she has hidden her baby, the son of his mad brother Diogenes? Oh, the questions are endless and had better be answered soon, otherwise the enormous cult following of Agent Pendergast - he has his own webpage – will suffer terminal withdrawal symptoms. Funeral garb never has never been more cool, and the FBI”s reputation has been burnished quite undeservedly. Trashy escapism of the very highest quality, and entertainment par excellence.












I waited seven months to read Ken Follett’s latest Best Seller, such is his popularity with library members, and I’m happy to say that it was well worth the wait. He may never scale lofty literary heights but what a good storyteller he is, and how credible are his characters. He has produced (yet again) the consummate read – a rattling pace, Love (True and not so!), the horrors of war and revolution, and a meticulously researched account of the seeds that were sown to germinate the War to End All Wars, World War 1.
Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter, refers to a little rhyme that Southern children learn to enable them to spell ‘Mississippi’ and with a name like that, any assistance would be helpful. The people of this story are much the same, tricky to read , complicated and full of twists and turns in this beautifully written novel from Tom Franklin – his marvelous imagery encompasses the land as well as his characters, and the reader is blessed to read such fine prose. He chronicles the lives of the inhabitants of the tiny, dying hamlet of Chabot, Southern Mississippi: naturally, everyone knows everything about everyone, including the fact that Larry Ott, the town outcast and mechanic whom no-one ever takes their cars to, probably – well, FOR SURE – killed a girl 25 years ago, but was so fiendishly clever at hiding the deed and the corpse that the law was never able to arrest him. Now another young girl has gone missing, and who else but Larry Ott could be the prime suspect, bearing the brunt of the finger-pointing, the name-calling and various acts of vandalism to his property: he done it FOR SURE!
Imogen Robertson won the Telegraph’s first thousand words Competition in 2007 by submitting the start of this book, her first novel. It is a murder mystery, set in 1780, and the prose is as elegant and genteel as the characters and time of which she writes. She has researched thoroughly the political and social mores of country and city life and writes convincingly of the huge gaps between rich and poor, noble and base, and the glaring unfairness of gender inequality: her heroine, Mrs. Harriet Westerman, runs a prosperous estate in Sussex while her husband, a Naval Commodore, is at sea – she is forthright, independent and used to making independent decisions, but is constrained by society’s expectations of how a ‘Lady’ should comport herself. It is not socially acceptable for a woman to take on a murder investigation, even if the corpse was found on her land; consequently she has to enlist the aid of Gabriel Crowther, recently-arrived ‘natural scientist’, an anatomist whose reputation is illustrious and far-reaching, but a recluse who has secrets of his own. There is also a dissolute Nobleman (the main suspect), his dastardly steward and a cast of minor villains hell-bent on murder, and as the story progresses the corpses pile up in a most satisfactory way – one even gets his throat ripped out by a leopard! Oh, it’s all good Georgian fun, and the denouement when it arrives has a twist that surprises, as it should.
Swamplandia! Is the name of a run-down nature park owned and operated by the Bigtree family on an island in the Everglades in Florida. They Swim with the Alligators! Wrestle them into Submission! Take the tourists on Island Wildlife walks and Tours of the Bigtree Historic Family Museum ! And sell their captive visitors toxic refreshments and souvenirs from the only café, reluctantly staffed by the three Bigtree children who are home-schooled by their mother, Hilola, Alligator wrestler and swimmer extraordinaire, star of the show and of their hearts. Dad is Samuel ‘Chief’ Bigtree; he is the compere, works the lights, does all the repairs, and looks after his aged father, Grandpa Sawtooth, who started up the business – which is running on the smell of an oily rag and mortgaged to the hilt. There is not a drop of Native American blood in any of them, but it’s good for business and the tourists to think so, and as a business and a family the Bigtrees putter along until Hilola dies of ovarian cancer at the age of 36.
The Rapture, coming soon to a place near you! And this is what happens when it does. Tim Wilson has quite an important day job, that of U.S. Correspondent for TVNZ, but I’m happy to say that the ‘There’s a Great Novel Bursting to be Born from every Journalist’ cliché is very true in this case: Mr. Wilson has made a most successful first foray into the world of the Good Book – in subject and construction.
Sara Groen has already been justly acclaimed for her novel ‘Water for Elephants’, a wonderful story of an American circus during the time of the 30’s Depression, recently made into a very successful movie. Now she tries something completely different: a story of scientific experimentation – good and bad - with primates, in this case six Bonobos, (cousins of the chimpanzee) held at a laboratory and taught by sign language to communicate with scientists. Reporter John Thigpen is assigned to do a story on the apes and their ‘trainer’ Isabel Duncan, a scientist who regards them as family rather than mere animals – certainly they are more her family than anyone else - and she has made great strides in educating them and increasing her own knowledge of how the apes and their hierarchy function. Thigpen wishes to write a serious article lauding her singular achievements and does so – until he is usurped and his story stolen by an unscrupulous colleague. The apes’ laboratory is bombed, ostensibly by animal activists; Isabel is seriously injured and the apes are sold on to a Porn king who wants to make a reality TV show called, of all things, Ape House! Yep, a lot happens in a very short time and I have to say that there are more characters in this book than you can shake a stick at, some of them wildly funny and others who are superfluous to the plot; regardless, Ms Groen manages to keep all her literary balls up in the air and we reach the happy ending (and I’m so glad it was!) with every loose thread neatly tucked away. Ms Groen has done some very solid research into apes and their ability to communicate by picture and sign, and the story she has produced is both a damning condemnation of animal cruelty and abuse and a loving tribute to a species’ dignity, intelligence and innate integrity. This was a pleasure to read. ****
The year is 1865; the great Gold Rush is well under way and Hokitika is booming; there are 100 pubs throughout the town to slake the miners’ thirst – and relieve them of their hard-won gold, and everyone is trying to get rich quick by fair means or foul before the gold runs out and all the diggers move on to the next Big Strike. Into this hotch-potch of goodies and baddies comes Halfie – Half-pint, Harvey, Bedwetter, Monkey: these are only some of the names he answers to, this little maori boy who has run away from his tribe after the death of his beloved tuakana Moana. Being a resourceful and intelligent little boy he has decided to be a ‘coin boy’, and where better a place to earn coin than Hokitika town – he is sure that he will eventually accumulate enough coin to earn a place to sleep by the stove of the reclusive miner and drunk, Ludovic, with the hope that Ludovic will teach him English. He knows that ‘That Inglish is a langwich what don’t behave’ and he would appreciate some tuition so that he can get fair treatment from Whitey. Besides, he’s sick of sleeping up a ponga tree – that’s tolerable in the summer, but Hokitika gets a lot of rain and it’s coming onto winter, so he has to plan ahead.