Devil of a death
Weldon’s wit keeps us smiling as she skewers all around her.
In 1983, Fay Weldon gave us Ruth Patchett, the She Devil, who exacted pleasing revenge on her philandering husband, Bobbo. Now it’s 2017. Ruth is 84, still chief executive of her Institute for Gender Parity and sharing its storm-and-ghost-assailed tower headquarters with unapologetically chauvinistic, foul-mouthed Bobbo, who is taking his time to die. But Ruth’s reign as “the liberation feminist queen” is under threat from her assistant, Valerie, who has All About Eve- style ambitions, and Ruth’s estranged grandson, Tyler, who’s considering making the ultimate transformation, because as a man he is now “a second-class citizen”. DEATH OF A SHE DEVIL (Head of Zeus, $35) skewers everything: feminism, the patriarchy, politically correct jargon, millennials, elderly women on committees, our overanalysed and medicated society, Gothic horror and right-winger Milo Yiannopoulos. Weldon even has a meta-fictional dig at her own writing. The joke wears thin well before the end, but Weldon’s pen is sharp and her wit dry enough to keep us smiling.
Suddenly successful young novelist Bright attempts suicide but is saved by Gibby, inventor and best friend of beautiful orphan Lace, whose own connection to life is gossamer thin. All three end up in an experimental psychiatric centre and form what might become a lasting bond, if only they could summon the courage to confess their true feelings about each other and their own selves. THE SUICIDE CLUB (Vintage,
$38), by award-winning author Sarah Quigley, is a tough novel to connect with. The writing has a manic glitter-ball quality, with over-intense reactions, exaggerated Pink Floyd-esque supporting characters, mannered dialogue and an overt authorial presence. All this could be seen as a way to portray the fractured, internal battle of young people striving to find meaning in an inimical modern world. But the style never allows us to delve deeply into emotions. Instead, we skitter across the surface, and when the end comes, we aren’t invested enough to be truly moved.
In 1907, New Zealand is under construction. Roads, railways and towns are being built by a combination of engineering smarts and hard, physical labour. Billy Cameron, 14, finds work on the central North Island’s Makatote Viaduct, a project that’s being pushed through under urgency to join two halves of the main trunk railway line. With speed comes danger, and men have already died. But the greatest threat to Billy isn’t his new job but shady conman and fake preacher Gabriel Locke, who draws impressionable Billy into his potentially lethal web of lies. With LEAP OF FAITH (Black
Swan, $38), Jenny Pattrick gives a masterclass on how to write a historical novel. The characters and their stories come first, and the details of the past add context and richness but never dominate. Pattrick brings to life the struggle of the time through a cast of believable, sympathetic men and women and, in Locke, a satisfyingly complex villain. A fine novel. Recommended.