Issue 4: Be gay, do books
Nau mai, haere mai ki te fourth and (so far) gayest edition of Scuttlebook, celebrating Pūmahara Ia Te Wā, Queer History Month. If you would like to make it even gayer, please consider donating to Rainbow Youth.
(Scuttlebook usually comes out in the second week of the month, but this issue is early because I’m about to break for Matariki.)
How I came to review this book
In October 2021 Eleanor Black, then my editor at the NZ Herald, commissioned me to review Out Here: An anthology of Takatāpui and LGBTQIA+ writers from Aotearoa, edited by Chris Tse and Emma Barnes, from Auckland University Press. I was paid $150 for 500 words.
I tried to persuade Eleanor to commission me to write a longer, more in-depth response, but no joy. Still, it was a great book to get stuck into. My review was published on 18 December 2021 in Canvas [$]. Reproduced here with permission.
Here’s my review
The tiresomeness of heteronormativity (that is, being assumed to be straight) is a diffuse, nagging burden that I don’t realise is heavy until it is lifted. The Same Same But Different NZ queer writers’ festival is one place this burden disappears; Out Here is another.
Edited by Chris Tse and Emma Barnes, Out Here is a new anthology of queer and takatāpui writing from Aotearoa. As the vivid cover designed by Kalee Jackson suggests, it’s a medley of disparate colour and texture all smooshed up together. Out Here comprises the mahi of around 70 queer kaituhi and the result defies easy description. There are toikupu (poems), essays, short stories, play scripts, monologues, academic writing, comics, typographical art, and extracts from novels.
The entries are not linked by any particular theme because, just as there is no one way to be queer, so too there is no single queer writing style or subject. Instead the variety of works jostle companionably against one another, sorted alphabetically with pleasing informality by the author’s first name. Occasionally the kaituhi reference one another specifically, paying tribute to the pathways we have forged for each other; but more often each work, each new name, comes as a surprise.
As always, I’m on the look-out for fellow kaituhi whaikaha (disabled writers) and sure enough, here we are. In their toikupu “Vaka-tokatoka (Pasifiqueeredisabled)” Luka Leleiga Lim-Cowley writes:
they say it’s all the same love …
but i don’t know anymore
about space (between us)
or time (between us) …
we rehearse waiata, pese, fatele held together
on belts of you telling me how beautiful
i am
Later in the alphabet, Pelenakeke Brown presents her typographical artwork “A Travelling Practice” that uses all the keys on the keyboard to create not just words but also lines, shapes and symbols.
As a disabled artist working within crip time … each movement, each tap, no matter how small, is a powerful propelling forward through time (tā) and space (vā) … many of the characters in the keyboard reflect many of the symbols of the Samoan tatau (tattoo); specifically, the malu, traditionally worn by women … in this modern technology there is this ancestral knowledge in plain sight.
I traced the lines with my finger where Brown has tattooed the page using her version of the same keys I am pressing right now. It’s one of many moments of connection I felt reading this multi-voiced symphony of a pukapuka.
I read Out Here cover to cover but you don’t have to: try opening it at random and reading whatever catches your eye. Don’t let the splendidly heavy hardback-ness put you off treating this pukapuka lightly. Let it lie around your home, its beautiful cover glowing the place up. Read bits and bobs as they take your fancy. Let it accumulate bookmarks and dog-eared pages.
Out Here is a warm anchor – a glittering signpost – a chance to eavesdrop on the mother of all Same Same But Different after-parties. Everyone is invited.
Upon reflection
The introduction is often the weakest part of any anthology and unfortunately Out Here is no exception. I didn’t say so in my initial review because I wanted to let the artworks shine, but honestly the editors really dropped the ball on this one.
I was expecting the introduction to comprise a potted history of queer literature in Aotearoa, drawing out lines of artistic whakapapa. I was hoping, in other words, to be given at least an outline of the ground on which I stand and who my queer writer ancestors are.
Instead the editors just flat-out say “It’s not our intention to present a canon or a tidy history”, as though doing the homework were somehow uncool, or only for straight people. As Andrew Paul Wood wrote in his review, responding to the editors’ complaints that local gay writing is hard to find, “firstly, that’s your job, and secondly, this is what the National Library is for.” In fact, the good old Nat Lib (former employer of yours truly) literally contains our very own queer archive, Kawe Mahara, specifically to help with this sort of thing.
All I can think to say in the editors’ defence is that they were working in the cursed years 2020–21, a period in which I personally found it difficult to follow the multi-step processes involved in making a cup of tea.
(Also just a tiny thing, but surely it’s an anthology of writ-ING, not of writ-ERS? OK sorry I’ll stop now.)
Pertinent relationships
I had forgotten this but I did actually submit a couple of things for inclusion in the anthology, which were rejected. I realise this leaves me open to accusations of sour grapes, but honestly the bits I sent in were put together in a last-minute rush, and not including them was a good decision.
I have the same relationships with the editors as I do with a lot of writers – I’ve chatted to them at various literary events, follow them on social media, and regard them with vague goodwill. Similarly, I’ve never been directly employed by Auckland University Press but I have reviewed a few of their books. Back when I used to do freelance journalism for Booksellers NZ (mostly in the period 2014–18), I interviewed AUP staff for various stories for The Read.
A wild library zine appears
Scuttlebook has a sister publication! A secret rebel known only by the codename “An Unspecified Librarian” has begun an unofficial zine called The Library Underground. It features musings, gossip, stories about the random behaviour of library patrons, and of course book recommendations.
The Library Underground is available only in print and only upon request from Te Whare Pukapuka o Taputeranga, Island Bay Library, on Rāhina (Mondays) and Rāpare (Thursdays). It is unsanctioned by Wellington City Libraries so be discreet. Copies are strictly limited. The password is swordfish.
Recent review
I was on RNZ Nine to Noon yesterday to review Siobhan Harvey's memoir, What We Remember, What We Forget: A memoir in memory. Although very gay, this book definitely fits into the 'tragic lesbian' mold and is honestly a bit of a slog.
Nine to Noon pays its reviewers $0. In a few weeks I will be given $75-worth of book tokens.
Current leisure read
Speaking of $0, I'm really enjoying Home Economics by Caitriona Lally; a memoir about working as a cleaner while being a professional writer (cleaning pays better).
Working in the arts, I'm often asked to work for free – worse, it is often assumed that the work will be unpaid, and that to expect otherwise is somehow gauche or self-aggrandising. Just this morning a client asked me to lower my prices in return for being credited for my work. (This edition of Scuttlebook is going out for free, and gladly so, but if you feel moved to give me a one-off donation to support my work, you can do so here.)
Kawe Mahara Queer Archives Aotearoa
July has been chosen to be Pūmahara Ia Te Wā, Queer History Month, because it commemorates the passing of Homosexual Law Reform forty years ago this year.
If you’d like to learn more, the good people of Kawe Mahara have put together a knowledge and memory pack (with the pleasing acronym KAMP), which you can download from their website.
While you're at it, why not consider leaving your secret gay diaries to Kawe Mahara in your will? Imagine how happy they will be, snuggled up with all the other queer papers and gossiping.
Come say kia ora at Same Same But Different
Here in Aotearoa we are blessed to have our very own queer literary festival, Same Same But Different. This year it will take place in Tāmaki Makaurau from Thurs 6 to Sat 8 August. I myself am hoping – floods and sundry other states of emergency permitting – to attend.
I’m a loud perimenopausal bisexual and am thus easy to spot and to chat to. If you can’t think what to say, just tell me you read Scuttlebook and we will be instant friends.
And if you’re wondering whether you qualify for attendance at a queer writers' festival, rest assured: however gay you are is the exact right amount to get you in the door. And you're a writer if you write: no one else has to have even read your work. I hope to see you there.
Mānawatia a Matariki!