Laura Hewson reviews Swimmers' Rope and Limestone
Stephanie Johnson
Vintage, $29.99, pbk
Over time, some secrets become too heavy to carry alone. So Stephanie Johnson's Swimmers' Rope begins.
Norman Martingale is older than the century and has decided the time has come to confess his terrible secret to the police. But first he'll stop at the pub for one final drink...
There he meets the young and dysfunctional Bronwyn, and persuades her to drive to Piha with him so he can practise his confession.
Through flashbacks, both spoken and remembered, Norman reveals the story of his life. And it's an interesting one - shame, guilt, regret, disappointment - and the secret that has been kept for half a century.
At the centre of the story is the unlikely friendship between Norman and his neighbour Lyn, a good Kiwi lad from a big, rambunctious family. The boys are opposites. Norman is well off, prissy and musical; Lyn is practical and good-natured. Inevitably, the friendship doesn't run smoothly.
As far as heroes go, Norman is less than heroic.
He's unlikable, self-centred and an embarrassment to Lyn, such as when he turns up uninvited at Lyn's work camp with his cello and a pair of purple silk pyjamas. This even embarrassed me.
Swimmers' Rope offers glimpses of New Zealand life throughout the century, from the formal times of Norman's childhood, through wars and social change, ending up in the early 1970s, when Norman is baffled that young men have long hair and women no longer wear bras.
The desire to learn Norman's secret kept me going through a fairly slow start, which thankfully gathered momentum as the other characters entered the story and their relationships took over.
Fiona Farrell
Virago, $29.99, pbk
Fiona Farrell is a marvellous storyteller. Her latest novel, Limestone, meanders from past to present and everywhere in between, never lingering long enough in one place for the pain to grow too strong or the story to lag.
Clare Lacey, named after the county in Ireland where her father came from, is passionate about limestone. Her love of the stone and the way she identifies personally with it provide much of the beauty in this story.
While this love is unconditional, her personal relationships are less successful. Clare has never recovered from her father walking out on the family when she was a child.
Whenever she travels overseas she calls everyone in the phone book who has her father's name, hoping to come across him but not really expecting to.
A trip to Ireland propels her to try harder, and Clare discovers all sorts of things about her father and herself.
While the trip to Ireland is the main event, memories and side stories are skilfully woven in and out of the narrative. As are the characters, some of whom I would have liked to have kept following.
There's Murray, the fat, footy-loving redneck whom Clare has to endure on the long-distance flight; the various mismatched members of the Lacey family; and Clare herself, who says "yes" to dinner invitations while already planning the illness that will prevent her going.
The Kiwiness of the story (Marmite on toast, Jaffas, and an unpatriotic dislike of the Lord of the Rings movies) is nicely done, while the descriptions of Ireland should appeal to anyone who has the urge to trace their roots.
- Laura Hewson is an online editor.
