Book of the week

It will enthral lovers of the mountains, printing, advertising, art, and design.

Scenic Playground: The Story Behind New Zealand’s Mountain Tourism by Peter Alsop, Dave Bamford, and Lee Davidson (Te Papa Press, $80)

At 416 full-colour pages, this is a gloriously big and beautiful book that will enthral lovers of the mountains, printing, advertising, art, and design. A thoughtful history of that great New Zealand tourism story – or myth, depending on your perspective – it shows how New Zealand built a reputation on our unspoilt high country and its

healthy thrills, majestic scenery and fresh air.

The lavishly illustrated first half features a well-told narrative of romantic mountain iconography, its importance to a burgeoning New Zealand identity, and the birth of tourism – including the efforts of shipping, rail, and government. One glaring realisation is just how dimly a Ma¯ ori relationship with the maunga featured in the promotion of this ‘‘mountain playground’’. Mostly, Ma¯ ori appeared only as ‘‘a poi-girl haka-warrior’’ motif, existing to serve tourism.

The second half is an expansive, evocative gallery of the actual

imagery that created the mountains as a holiday destination – more than 200 pages of posters, magazine covers, photographs, slides, advertisements, paintings, lithographs, postcards and more, from the 19th century on. It’s a wonderful collection of graphic design. Close-ups allow us to see the pencil sketches and paintbrush strokes, offering an intimate look at how those iconic New Zealand tourism posters were created.

The book is an absorbing treasure. But as you page through, it becomes increasingly obvious that it’s chronicling a campaign so successful at getting people into the mountains that they’re now under threat. Tourism is now putting huge pressure on some delicate environments and pretty feeble infrastructure, and those uncrowded, unspoilt paradises are increasingly overrun.

The full, towering glaciers of 19th-century paintings are today sadly diminished because of

climate change. More than four decades of Niwa research on South Island glaciers shows that as the seas around New Zealand have warmed, ice and snowlines have shrunk. The Tasman Glacier has retreated an average of 180 metres a year since 1990. Tasman Lake, at the terminus of the glacier, did not even exist before 1973.

So the book also raises questions. How will we manage our mountain playground in the future, and what will happen to our social, cultural and commercial interests in them? What about ensuring Ma¯ ori retain linkages to the mountains and ranges, so important to tribal identity and ancestry? What about waste, the pressure of feet and fumes, and less obvious pollution such as noise? How can we reinstate some of the birdsong we’ve lost to predation – and how can we model a way of addressing those issues for an international stage, where we once promoted ourselves as wholly pure?

As Helen Clark says in her introduction: ‘‘To borrow an old publicity phrase, we are no longer ‘thousands of feet above worry level’; we have some work to do.’’ This book is a beautiful celebration of the history of mountain tourism, but it’s also a reminder of what we stand to lose in future, should we get it wrong today. – Naomi Arnold