I had the pleasure of reading The Axeman's Carnival as my first read for 2023 and what a way to set the standard for the year. This novel is filled with humour, heart and sorrow and is perfect read for anyone who likes something just a little fantastical. It is also our February Bookety Club read!
Tell us about yourself in two sentences.
I’m a collector – antique jewellery; art deco evening bags; titles for books I’ll never write; pleasing words I want to work into a story; heterochromic (odd-eyed) rescue cats. Married at First Sight Australia is my guilty pleasure.
Can you share a little about your writing process to us?
In recent years I have been curiously productive…fuelled, I suspect, by turning 50 and losing some people close to me. I’m very aware of how little time we’re allocated, and I want to make the most of it. I write early in the morning, before my day job lecturing in Creative Writing at the University of Waikato, and also in the evening, after my daughter has gone to bed. I write seven days a week. I’m driven, obsessed.
How did you came to writing The Axeman’s Carnival?
In 2008 my husband and I visited the tiny museum in Tuatapere, and I saw photos of local wood-chopping events from over the years – called the axeman’s carnival. There’s a great title, I thought, and I tucked it away. Then in 2020 I’d been wondering about what form my new novel should take, and I remembered how much I enjoyed creating an unusual narrator for my book The Wish Child. I wanted to try a similarly unexpected voice again, and I realised that every morning, when I opened the window of my writing room at home, I could hear the magpies singing. They would strut about just outside my window, and seemed to have real attitude, as well as a slightly sinister presence. I knew that they were extraordinary mimics, too…and so Tama was hatched!
Being based in Wanaka myself, I loved all your references to Central Otago, and it was the first time I read anything discussing the dam and the burying of so much history. How did the novel come to be set in Central Otago, and what compelled you to include this unique history within the pages?
I used to live in Dunedin, and became familiar with the stunning landscape of Central Otago through frequent visits. The writer in me loved the eerie symbolism around the drowning/burying of certain areas that the construction of the dam required – the way that whole scheme speaks to human interference with the natural world. Through Tama, I allow the natural world to bite (peck?) back.
Without loading any kiwi tall poppy syndrome angst onto you, because we both know Aotearoa is brimming with talent that easily rivals the international crowd, how did it feel to be shortlisted for the Dublin Literary Award 2022, and Longlisted for the Women’s Prize for Fiction 2022 for your novel Remote Sympathy?
I got both of those emails very late at night, and could not sleep for excitement! They came as an absolute shock. Writing a novel is a long, solitary slog, and it was very special and hugely rewarding to receive that kind of recognition, especially from international judges who probably weren’t familiar with my earlier work. It’s definitely given my overseas profile a boost.
Do you feel it is harder to get international recognition as a kiwi author?
I know it is; my UK agent has said as much. It’s harder to get all-important review space, and of course, you’re not on the ground to give in-person interviews and participate in literary festivals and bookstore events and so on. That’s why getting a bit of attention via prizes can help so much.
The Axeman’s Carnival has only recently landed in readers hands. Tell us how you celebrate & process the release of a new novel?
Having the chance to talk to readers about my new work feels joyous and celebratory to me. For so long, the story has existed only in my head…it’s a wonderful thing to see it taken up by others. I’m loving how readers are engaging with Tama, who feels very real to me. I find reviews nerve-wracking, and try not to hold on to the negative comments. Honestly, when I finish one book, I’m always champing at the bit to start the next! I feel a sense of urgency around that.
Describe your writing spot for us.
My writing room is the bedroom at the far end of our house. It’s the quietest spot, and I love it. I write at the huge 1930s oak desk I bought with prize money from my first novel way back last century. My window used to look out to farmland, but that is now being swallowed up by a subdivision, which I’m still in denial about. I also write in bed, with the laptop propped on a life-changing wedge of foam called the Pillow Pad.
What books have you recently read and loved?
Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan; Sea of Tranquility by Emily St. John Mandel; Bewilderment by Richard Powers; Where Light Meets Water by Susan Paterson (to be published later this year; I read an advance copy).
What book do you always recommend to others?
The Secret History by Donna Tartt.
Tell us what reading means to you…
It’s always been a portal to other worlds…a magical, mind-altering experience. From an early age I adored losing myself in stories, imagining myself into them. As an adult and a writer, it’s also a way of honing my craft – showing me what’s possible, what risks a writer can take, and also the pitfalls to avoid
Who are the three people (living or dead) you would love to have dinner with?
A woman from 19th-century France, so I can ask her all about everyday life – discover those small details that are often absent from history books, but that bring fiction to life. Then maybe I’ll write the novel I’ve been toying with for about fifteen years!
My beloved headmaster from primary school, Mr Henderson. He was the first one to encourage my writing, and I’d like to ask him what he saw in me, and to thank him.
My mother’s father, who died long before I was born. He emigrated from Ireland as a young man, and I have visited the one-room sod cottage in County Monaghan where he and his twelve siblings were born. Dad said he could never understand a word Henry said, and my Irish cousins themselves admit they have a unique family patois that is almost impenetrable to others…so dinner conversation might require an interpreter!
