The book is translated from the original publication in German and one might be slightly puzzled why it was written in German in the first place, since it begins with a setting in various parts of England as some of the characters have encounters with someone or something from New Zealand - this isn't at first look a political book, and if it's about prejudices of the English caste system, well, the German caste system was surely worse, not better? The then queen of England, Queen Victoria, after all, did accept the morganatic branch of the Battenberg family relatives - but her grandson, Kaiser Wilhelm II, stuck to humiliating them at various gatherings he presided over, for example.
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While at first glance it might be categorised as a - what is derogatorily termed, when written by a female and involving subject matter of interest presumed mostly for female readership - "chick lit" book, it is far indeed from the forgettable romances of what an earlier generation called 'Mills & Boon' sort; indeed, it's as far as it could get from that genre of bestsellers, and if this becomes a bestseller, readership has progressed. At any rate this deserves a recognition for a classic of future, however amateurish it might seem at first and however raw subsequently.
The work is quite serious, set in the colonial times of late nineteenth century and dealing with more than one aspect thereof, despite being fixed mostly around the English settlers in New Zealand. It does deal with the local non whites, specifically Maori, and their relationships with settlers, the differences between the two cultures, and the exploitation and denigration Maori were subjected to by settlers, as much as it describes the unattractive aspects of whaling and seal hunting.
But the chief subject is the domination, bullying, exploitation, cheating, and worse, that females of the time and place are subjected to, by 'white males, chiefly, as much as by females secure in their own position and lacking any concept of a stature of personhood of anyone in their half of humanity.
In this domination, rape is always the threat, used as and when the bully feels like, but it has nothing to do with love, only with need to subjugate the female by humiliation even more than so by physical assault, and the rape isn't without other brutal physical assault at that.
Marital rape is merely the rule, at the whim of the husband, and rare the female who has any clue that be getting children isn't the only reward of marital relations, or that they need not be painful.
And while a great deal many readers - mostly males comfortable with this slavery of all women to all males, and sanctimonious females with a ringside seat secure in their certainty of not being fed to the lions personally - might not appreciate the horrors described here as horrors per se but think it is normal, or even just punishments meted out to females unwilling to fit in and obey, horrors they are, whether it's the rape that Gerald forces his daughter in law to suffer - even resulting in her stopping fighting, after he's assaulted her husband unconscious, remarking to the effect that she likes his brutality after all - or his almost doing the same to her daughter a few years later, whether it's his constant abusing of his gentle and talented son or his attacking a neighbours son; and those are only the most horrible. His neighbour's treatment of the gentlewoman he cheated into marrying him would likely be taken as normal by most, as would the vicar's part in the cheating, or the ladies back in England subjecting the females to stern scrutiny while being cavalier about the treatment they receive and the cheating and other horrors they endure.
Not that women are the only victims - gentle, intelligent males are just as much victimised and persecuted unless they have the strength and temper to fight back and return blow for blow, and often, even then; as are the Maori, of course, like natives of all colonies, apart from slaves imported from Africa or those of any other non dominant communities that aren't classified as martial or feared for their tempers and likelihood - certainty, as in case of jihadists today - of striking a blow if provoked.
Lucas remains the most painful memory of this book, despite everything the women, and other men like Ruben or James, are forced to suffer.
This may not be the first book that speaks of all this, but the author deserves credit nevertheless for writing it down and publishing it.
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A governess at a semi aristocrat house in Wales takes up a notice posted in church about eligible bachelors in New Zealand looking for wives, and is sent by the parish paying her steerable as caretaker of the orphanage girls being sent as maids. An aristocrat in another part of England has the Lord lose to a cardsharp sheep baron from New Zealand who had his eye on the young daughter, who he claims he wants as bride for his son nearer her age. They become friends on the ship, Helen and Gwyneira, despite Gerald forbidding his charge, who knows that Helen is being fooled, her supposed bridegroom is a crook and not the romantic gentleman farmer he seemed to her from his letters. Even Gwyneira thought the letters were phony.Helen has her hands full taking care of the girls and teaching tpsteerage children, thereby earning respect of the ship.
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They approach finally, and captain blows horn to inform land sighting.
"A long, drawn-out white layer of cotton obscured the land. If the crew had not assured the passengers that the South Island was hiding behind it, they would not have paid any attention to that particular cloud."
"“Is it always so foggy?” Gwyneira asked, sounding unenthused."
"Gerald shook his head. “No. It’s rather unusual for travelers to be offered such a view. And it’s surely a lucky sign.” He smiled, obviously happy to see his home again. “That is to say that the land revealed itself to the first travelers, who came by canoe from Polynesia to New Zealand, in the same way. That explains New Zealand’s Maori name—Aotearoa, ‘Land of the Long White Cloud.’”"
Hence the title.
The book seems amateur at the beginning, with awkward and sometimes unlikely dialogues, but by the time the ship arrives at New Zealand it has begun to take shape and once there, it's real. It's almost as if the author is weaving the tales she heard from various elders about their lives and past into a coherent whole.
They approach finally, and captain blows horn to inform land sighting.
"A long, drawn-out white layer of cotton obscured the land. If the crew had not assured the passengers that the South Island was hiding behind it, they would not have paid any attention to that particular cloud."
"“Is it always so foggy?” Gwyneira asked, sounding unenthused."
"Gerald shook his head. “No. It’s rather unusual for travelers to be offered such a view. And it’s surely a lucky sign.” He smiled, obviously happy to see his home again. “That is to say that the land revealed itself to the first travelers, who came by canoe from Polynesia to New Zealand, in the same way. That explains New Zealand’s Maori name—Aotearoa, ‘Land of the Long White Cloud.’”"
Hence the title.
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The book seems amateur at the beginning, with awkward and sometimes unlikely dialogues, but by the time the ship arrives at New Zealand it has begun to take shape and once there, it's real. It's almost as if the author is weaving the tales she heard from various elders about their lives and past into a coherent whole.
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From the beginning there are vague hints that make one wonder, is one supposed to understand that the two women are not merely mismatched with the men they go to New Zealand to marry, but cross-matched? Almost, it would seem. It's the poor governess Helen, educated and refined daughter of a vicar who lived in London and never did housework, who's then expected to do everything at the farm without servants in New Zealand - while the lady Gwyneira who's expected to be society hostess and manage a rich home has grown up happier racing horses and shepherding with help of her dogs.
This mismatch, moreover, seems to carry over into the respective marital beds as well, apart from mismatch of personalities in both marriages. The two friends, after a chance meeting at the little town of Haldon, manage to meet due to Gwyneira riding over, neither informing the owners of the estates who are bitter enemies.
"“Don’t you talk to Howard?” Gwyneira asked.
"Helen nodded. “Yes, but…but we…we don’t have all that much in common.”
"Gwyneira suddenly felt guilty. Helen would so enjoy the long discussions with Lucas about art and culture—not to mention his piano playing and painting. She knew she should feel grateful for her cultivated husband. Most of the time, however, she just felt bored."
The young women are both as unaware of facts of life as the little orphans, with perhaps one of the orphans more aware due to travails she's been through. Helen is expecting but doesn't know it's so, and Gwyneira isn't aware that her marriage isn't yet consummated despite her husband's efforts. Helen consults a Maori wise woman, who offers her services for Helen, and says she'd have to see Gwyneira, preferably with her husband Lucas.
"That evening Helen revealed to her husband that he would be a father. Howard gave a contented hum. He was obviously pleased, though Helen would have liked a few more words of recognition. The one good consequence of announcing the news was that from then on Howard left his wife in peace. He did not touch her anymore, instead sleeping next to her like a brother, which was a huge relief to her. It moved her to tears when, the next morning, Howard came to her in bed with a cup of tea.
"“Here. The witch said you should drink this, right? And the Maori women know something about these things."
Here's a strange sentence, clearly one that belongs to a colonial mindset.
"Spring arrived, and the new settlers had to acclimate to the idea that March heralded the onset of winter in the Southern Hemisphere."
From the beginning there are vague hints that make one wonder, is one supposed to understand that the two women are not merely mismatched with the men they go to New Zealand to marry, but cross-matched? Almost, it would seem. It's the poor governess Helen, educated and refined daughter of a vicar who lived in London and never did housework, who's then expected to do everything at the farm without servants in New Zealand - while the lady Gwyneira who's expected to be society hostess and manage a rich home has grown up happier racing horses and shepherding with help of her dogs.
This mismatch, moreover, seems to carry over into the respective marital beds as well, apart from mismatch of personalities in both marriages. The two friends, after a chance meeting at the little town of Haldon, manage to meet due to Gwyneira riding over, neither informing the owners of the estates who are bitter enemies.
"“Don’t you talk to Howard?” Gwyneira asked.
"Helen nodded. “Yes, but…but we…we don’t have all that much in common.”
"Gwyneira suddenly felt guilty. Helen would so enjoy the long discussions with Lucas about art and culture—not to mention his piano playing and painting. She knew she should feel grateful for her cultivated husband. Most of the time, however, she just felt bored."
The young women are both as unaware of facts of life as the little orphans, with perhaps one of the orphans more aware due to travails she's been through. Helen is expecting but doesn't know it's so, and Gwyneira isn't aware that her marriage isn't yet consummated despite her husband's efforts. Helen consults a Maori wise woman, who offers her services for Helen, and says she'd have to see Gwyneira, preferably with her husband Lucas.
"That evening Helen revealed to her husband that he would be a father. Howard gave a contented hum. He was obviously pleased, though Helen would have liked a few more words of recognition. The one good consequence of announcing the news was that from then on Howard left his wife in peace. He did not touch her anymore, instead sleeping next to her like a brother, which was a huge relief to her. It moved her to tears when, the next morning, Howard came to her in bed with a cup of tea.
"“Here. The witch said you should drink this, right? And the Maori women know something about these things."
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Here's a strange sentence, clearly one that belongs to a colonial mindset.
"Spring arrived, and the new settlers had to acclimate to the idea that March heralded the onset of winter in the Southern Hemisphere."
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Gerald Warden insists his son should prepare to run the estate, and has him go collect sheep along with the men from mountains. Gwyneira helps, and hears the stories men tell around fire in evening.
"“By God, if I hadn’t been there, the ram would have run a horn through him!” Young Dave chuckled. “Anyway, he’s running toward him, and I call, ‘Mr. Warden!’ but he still doesn’t see the animal. So I whistle for the dog, and he dashes between man and beast, driving the ram away…but do you think the fellow is thankful? As if! He rails at me! He was looking at a kea, he says, and the dog drove the bird away. The ram nearly had him, I’m telling you! If I hadn’t been there, he’d have even less in his pants than he already does.”"
Helen's son was born with Dorothy, lent her by Mrs Candler, and Gwyneira who was visiting, helping until the Maori midwife arrived. After Ruben was named, Helen indicated that her friend was Gwyneira who she'd spoken about, and the midwife remarked that she was in perfect order to have children, and if she was unable to conceive, she should do so with another man.
"During the day the baby almost never cried but lay quietly in his cradle while Helen taught the Maori children. He didn’t sleep but watched the teacher seriously and attentively, as though he already understood what was going on.
"“He’s going to be a professor,” Gwyneira said, laughing. “He takes entirely after you, Helen.”
"At least in terms of appearance, she was not far off the mark. Ruben’s eyes, which had started out blue, had turned gray like Helen’s, and his hair seemed to be turning dark like Howard’s. But it was straight, not curly.
"“He takes after my father,” confirmed Helen. “He is named after him, you know. But Howard is determined that he’ll become a farmer and not a reverend.”
"Gwyneira giggled. “Others have made that mistake before. Just think of Mr. Warden and Lucas.”"
Gerald warden was increasingly displeased with his son and the daughter in law for not giving him grandchildren. Gwyneira stayed out of his way.
"Lucas, on the other hand, faced the full force of his father’s wrath, almost always unexpectedly. Gerald frequently ripped his son away from whatever task he was immersed in without compunction and pushed the boy to make himself useful around the farm. He even went so far as to tear up a book Lucas was reading when he caught Lucas with it in his room while he should have been overseeing the sheep shearing."
"At home in Silkham sheep shearing had been a rather leisurely affair; the few hundred sheep were sheared by the shepherds themselves over the course of a few days. Here, however, they had thousands of sheep to shear, which first had to be fetched from the extensive pastures and then penned together. The shearing itself was the work of specialists. The best work groups managed eight hundred animals a day. On big operations like Kiward Station there was always a competition—and this year James McKenzie was well on his way to winning it. He was neck and neck with a top shearer from warehouse one, even though he was also responsible for supervising the other shearers in warehouse two. Whenever Gwyneira came by, she took over the supervision for him, lightening his load. Her presence seemed to redouble his energy; his shears moved so quickly and smoothly over the sheep’s bodies that the animals hardly had time to bleat in protest at their rude treatment.
"Lucas found the handling of the sheep barbaric. He felt for them when the animals were seized, thrown on their backs, and shorn, often getting cuts on their skin if the shearer was inexperienced or the sheep fidgeted excessively. Lucas also couldn’t stand the overwhelming odor of lanolin that pervaded the shearing warehouses. As a result, he was constantly letting sheep escape instead of pushing them through a bath after the shearing, which was supposed to clean out any cuts and kill off parasites.
"“The dogs don’t listen to me,” he said, defending himself against a new fit of anger from his father. “They answer to McKenzie, but when I call—”
"“You don’t call these dogs, Lucas! You whistle for them,” Gerald exploded. “There are only three or four whistles, all of which you should have learned long ago. You think so highly of your musical abilities!”
"Lucas recoiled, insulted. “Father, a gentleman—”
"“Don’t tell me a gentleman doesn’t whistle. These sheep finance your painting, piano playing, and so-called studies.”
"Gwyneira, who caught this conversation by chance, fled into the nearest warehouse. She hated it when Gerald took her husband to task in front of her—and it was even worse when James McKenzie or the other farmworkers witnessed the confrontations. They not only embarrassed Gwyneira, but moreover, they seemed to have a negative effect on her and Lucas’s nightly “attempts,” which went awry with increasing frequency. Gwyneira had taken to viewing their efforts together only as the first stage of reproduction, since ultimately it was no different from what took place between a stallion and mare. Yet she harbored no illusions: luck would have to be very much on her side. She gradually began thinking of alternatives, though the image of her father’s old ram—one that he had had to retire due to a lack of success in mating—came back to her time and again.
"“Try with other man,” Matahorua had said. Every time Gwyneira recalled those words, she felt a pang of guilt. It was inconceivable for a Silkham to cheat on her husband."
Gerald Warden insists his son should prepare to run the estate, and has him go collect sheep along with the men from mountains. Gwyneira helps, and hears the stories men tell around fire in evening.
"“By God, if I hadn’t been there, the ram would have run a horn through him!” Young Dave chuckled. “Anyway, he’s running toward him, and I call, ‘Mr. Warden!’ but he still doesn’t see the animal. So I whistle for the dog, and he dashes between man and beast, driving the ram away…but do you think the fellow is thankful? As if! He rails at me! He was looking at a kea, he says, and the dog drove the bird away. The ram nearly had him, I’m telling you! If I hadn’t been there, he’d have even less in his pants than he already does.”"
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Helen's son was born with Dorothy, lent her by Mrs Candler, and Gwyneira who was visiting, helping until the Maori midwife arrived. After Ruben was named, Helen indicated that her friend was Gwyneira who she'd spoken about, and the midwife remarked that she was in perfect order to have children, and if she was unable to conceive, she should do so with another man.
"During the day the baby almost never cried but lay quietly in his cradle while Helen taught the Maori children. He didn’t sleep but watched the teacher seriously and attentively, as though he already understood what was going on.
"“He’s going to be a professor,” Gwyneira said, laughing. “He takes entirely after you, Helen.”
"At least in terms of appearance, she was not far off the mark. Ruben’s eyes, which had started out blue, had turned gray like Helen’s, and his hair seemed to be turning dark like Howard’s. But it was straight, not curly.
"“He takes after my father,” confirmed Helen. “He is named after him, you know. But Howard is determined that he’ll become a farmer and not a reverend.”
"Gwyneira giggled. “Others have made that mistake before. Just think of Mr. Warden and Lucas.”"
Gerald warden was increasingly displeased with his son and the daughter in law for not giving him grandchildren. Gwyneira stayed out of his way.
"Lucas, on the other hand, faced the full force of his father’s wrath, almost always unexpectedly. Gerald frequently ripped his son away from whatever task he was immersed in without compunction and pushed the boy to make himself useful around the farm. He even went so far as to tear up a book Lucas was reading when he caught Lucas with it in his room while he should have been overseeing the sheep shearing."
"At home in Silkham sheep shearing had been a rather leisurely affair; the few hundred sheep were sheared by the shepherds themselves over the course of a few days. Here, however, they had thousands of sheep to shear, which first had to be fetched from the extensive pastures and then penned together. The shearing itself was the work of specialists. The best work groups managed eight hundred animals a day. On big operations like Kiward Station there was always a competition—and this year James McKenzie was well on his way to winning it. He was neck and neck with a top shearer from warehouse one, even though he was also responsible for supervising the other shearers in warehouse two. Whenever Gwyneira came by, she took over the supervision for him, lightening his load. Her presence seemed to redouble his energy; his shears moved so quickly and smoothly over the sheep’s bodies that the animals hardly had time to bleat in protest at their rude treatment.
"Lucas found the handling of the sheep barbaric. He felt for them when the animals were seized, thrown on their backs, and shorn, often getting cuts on their skin if the shearer was inexperienced or the sheep fidgeted excessively. Lucas also couldn’t stand the overwhelming odor of lanolin that pervaded the shearing warehouses. As a result, he was constantly letting sheep escape instead of pushing them through a bath after the shearing, which was supposed to clean out any cuts and kill off parasites.
"“The dogs don’t listen to me,” he said, defending himself against a new fit of anger from his father. “They answer to McKenzie, but when I call—”
"“You don’t call these dogs, Lucas! You whistle for them,” Gerald exploded. “There are only three or four whistles, all of which you should have learned long ago. You think so highly of your musical abilities!”
"Lucas recoiled, insulted. “Father, a gentleman—”
"“Don’t tell me a gentleman doesn’t whistle. These sheep finance your painting, piano playing, and so-called studies.”
"Gwyneira, who caught this conversation by chance, fled into the nearest warehouse. She hated it when Gerald took her husband to task in front of her—and it was even worse when James McKenzie or the other farmworkers witnessed the confrontations. They not only embarrassed Gwyneira, but moreover, they seemed to have a negative effect on her and Lucas’s nightly “attempts,” which went awry with increasing frequency. Gwyneira had taken to viewing their efforts together only as the first stage of reproduction, since ultimately it was no different from what took place between a stallion and mare. Yet she harbored no illusions: luck would have to be very much on her side. She gradually began thinking of alternatives, though the image of her father’s old ram—one that he had had to retire due to a lack of success in mating—came back to her time and again.
"“Try with other man,” Matahorua had said. Every time Gwyneira recalled those words, she felt a pang of guilt. It was inconceivable for a Silkham to cheat on her husband."
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Lucas threw a New Year's party, all arrangements for food and entertainment arranged by him, while Gerald showed off his horses, sheep and dogs.
"The guests’ reactions at the party, not least of all Gerald’s breakdown, confirmed Gwyneira’s decision to effect a pregnancy with or without Lucas’s assistance. It had nothing to do with James and their kiss at midnight, of course—that had been a mistake, and the next day Gwyneira didn’t even know herself what had come over her. Fortunately, James McKenzie behaved just as he always had."
She considered heredity, and discretion and loyalty. The child must be plausible as a Warden, and she couldn't risk a stranger bragging.
"Gwyneira reviewed all the candidates carefully in her mind. Feelings, she convinced herself, did not play a role in this. She chose James.
Gwyneira did her best in keeping discreet, which meant returning to the formal relationship with James after she was pregnant, despite breaking his heart and not indulging her own, but that didn't help matters - the child was a girl, however much loved and adored, and Gerald continued his bullying of Lucas and Gwyneira with increasing savagery until one evening he raped her in view of Lucas whom he struck unconscious when Lucas tried to stop him.
Lucas tried to take care of Gwyneira when he came to and saw her in a bad state, but she was furious with him and told him she never wanted to see him. She'd no idea that would hurt him so much he left without seeing anybody, and couldn't be found. Matters were worse when Gwyneira was expecting, this time a boy, but Helen questioned Gwyneira about her neglecting the baby so completely, and suddenly having understood, brought Gwyneira to realise she'd better protect the baby from insinuations rife in country and town about his paternity. So Gwyneira took charge of the matters and established herself and the baby socially by doing what it took.
Lucas threw a New Year's party, all arrangements for food and entertainment arranged by him, while Gerald showed off his horses, sheep and dogs.
"The guests’ reactions at the party, not least of all Gerald’s breakdown, confirmed Gwyneira’s decision to effect a pregnancy with or without Lucas’s assistance. It had nothing to do with James and their kiss at midnight, of course—that had been a mistake, and the next day Gwyneira didn’t even know herself what had come over her. Fortunately, James McKenzie behaved just as he always had."
She considered heredity, and discretion and loyalty. The child must be plausible as a Warden, and she couldn't risk a stranger bragging.
"Gwyneira reviewed all the candidates carefully in her mind. Feelings, she convinced herself, did not play a role in this. She chose James.
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Gwyneira did her best in keeping discreet, which meant returning to the formal relationship with James after she was pregnant, despite breaking his heart and not indulging her own, but that didn't help matters - the child was a girl, however much loved and adored, and Gerald continued his bullying of Lucas and Gwyneira with increasing savagery until one evening he raped her in view of Lucas whom he struck unconscious when Lucas tried to stop him.
Lucas tried to take care of Gwyneira when he came to and saw her in a bad state, but she was furious with him and told him she never wanted to see him. She'd no idea that would hurt him so much he left without seeing anybody, and couldn't be found. Matters were worse when Gwyneira was expecting, this time a boy, but Helen questioned Gwyneira about her neglecting the baby so completely, and suddenly having understood, brought Gwyneira to realise she'd better protect the baby from insinuations rife in country and town about his paternity. So Gwyneira took charge of the matters and established herself and the baby socially by doing what it took.
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Lucas had joined a whaling ship, determined to prove himself, but his aesthetic sensibilities coupled with his sensitive and kind self was in complete opposition to the unrefined father's past.
"Lucas hoped the creature was really dead when the first chunks were ripped from its body and thrown on deck. Minutes later, they were wading through fat and blood. Someone opened up the whale’s head to draw out the sought-after spermaceti. Copper had told Lucas that candles and cleaning and skincare products would be made from that. Others were looking in the bowels of the whale for the even more valuable ambergris, a basic ingredient for the perfume industry. It stank bestially, and Lucas shivered when he thought of all the eau de cologne he and Gwyneira had owned on Kiward Station. He never would have thought that any part of that was obtained from the stinking innards of a gruesomely slaughtered animal."
The author has seemingly not consulted the map, or doesn't expect readers to do so. She has Lucas walk from Westport to Tauranga. And double back, escaping the killing of seal pups. Which is when he encountered Daphne and the twins, the former protecting the latter, who'd disappeared from their services.
But gold rush was beginning, and Lucas had a young boy, David, whose real name was Steinbjörn Sigleifson, who was helping him stay in Westport, who was very tempted to try. Lucas was reluctant, but finally gave in. David was hurt trying to climb down to a golden sandbag and in helping him, Lucas fell. His death, even more than his self imposed exile, cannot but fill one with a rage against such a sweet person being so bullied, even by the father who ought to have valued the son. Gwyneira diminishes by having caused the exile, but that was only the last straw, and it was excusable in her case.
George Greenwood found information about Lucas in Westport when he came searching, and asked David to come tell Gwyneira personally. Gwyneira heard him, and then transferred the account that received money from sales of Lucas's works to David's name. Gerald abused his son even in death. Gwyneira and George honoured and cherished him. George had married Elizabeth.
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The horror grows, Paul fuelling Gerald against Fleurette, and Ruben being thrashed, to begin with. It escalates to far worse, Paul joining his supposed grandfather in a war against his mother and sister, in an all out subjugating campaign that had Gerald attempt to marry Fleurette to a neighbour his own age, a recent widower to whom he describes the teen as ripe for plucking, and subsequently almost repeating his rape of the daughter in law by attacking her daughter Fleurette when she refuses the engagement, a rape stopped by Gwyneira fighting him off as he's about to do to her daughter what he did to her.
And the horror grows. James McKenzie, who'd left intending to be making his own fortune, had since then turned a bandit, stealing sheep - but only from the rich farms - and he's being hunted; one farmer, John, decides he wants to marry Fleurette, and once again there's repetition of the grandfather trying to force her, but this time it's John attempting to rape her in the barn where she was hiding, Paul having informed John where he could find her. Gwyneira saves her from being raped, but the grandfather assumes Fleurette was willing and declares he'd force an engagement. Gwyneira helps her run away that night by giving her help, money, and information that she is daughter of James McKenzie, whom Fleurette finds later after riding out, chiefly due to their dogs and horses recognising the respective siblings. The reunion is brief, he's caught next day while he insists she escape, and she finds Ruben after Daphne, who runs her own hotel in Queenstown, helping her.
The two get married next day and Fleurette helps him, and his partner Steu, set up a business that's far more profitable, and Ruben is elected justice of peace while he studies law; and their only problem is they can't afford to contact their mothers. The trial of James McKenzie comes up.
Wardens attended the trial, and when James saw Paul, he understood everything, and was ashamed of having left with accusations against Gwyneira instead of trusting her; their eyes met accidentally and it was clear to them. He was forced to name the companion who'd fled as he was taken, and said it was a Maori girl who was precious to him, named 'pakupaku pua', which Gwyneira hurried to reti to ask for a translation - it meant Little Flower, she was told - and she knew he'd met Fleurette.
Lucas had joined a whaling ship, determined to prove himself, but his aesthetic sensibilities coupled with his sensitive and kind self was in complete opposition to the unrefined father's past.
"Lucas hoped the creature was really dead when the first chunks were ripped from its body and thrown on deck. Minutes later, they were wading through fat and blood. Someone opened up the whale’s head to draw out the sought-after spermaceti. Copper had told Lucas that candles and cleaning and skincare products would be made from that. Others were looking in the bowels of the whale for the even more valuable ambergris, a basic ingredient for the perfume industry. It stank bestially, and Lucas shivered when he thought of all the eau de cologne he and Gwyneira had owned on Kiward Station. He never would have thought that any part of that was obtained from the stinking innards of a gruesomely slaughtered animal."
................................................................................................
The author has seemingly not consulted the map, or doesn't expect readers to do so. She has Lucas walk from Westport to Tauranga. And double back, escaping the killing of seal pups. Which is when he encountered Daphne and the twins, the former protecting the latter, who'd disappeared from their services.
But gold rush was beginning, and Lucas had a young boy, David, whose real name was Steinbjörn Sigleifson, who was helping him stay in Westport, who was very tempted to try. Lucas was reluctant, but finally gave in. David was hurt trying to climb down to a golden sandbag and in helping him, Lucas fell. His death, even more than his self imposed exile, cannot but fill one with a rage against such a sweet person being so bullied, even by the father who ought to have valued the son. Gwyneira diminishes by having caused the exile, but that was only the last straw, and it was excusable in her case.
George Greenwood found information about Lucas in Westport when he came searching, and asked David to come tell Gwyneira personally. Gwyneira heard him, and then transferred the account that received money from sales of Lucas's works to David's name. Gerald abused his son even in death. Gwyneira and George honoured and cherished him. George had married Elizabeth.
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The horror grows, Paul fuelling Gerald against Fleurette, and Ruben being thrashed, to begin with. It escalates to far worse, Paul joining his supposed grandfather in a war against his mother and sister, in an all out subjugating campaign that had Gerald attempt to marry Fleurette to a neighbour his own age, a recent widower to whom he describes the teen as ripe for plucking, and subsequently almost repeating his rape of the daughter in law by attacking her daughter Fleurette when she refuses the engagement, a rape stopped by Gwyneira fighting him off as he's about to do to her daughter what he did to her.
And the horror grows. James McKenzie, who'd left intending to be making his own fortune, had since then turned a bandit, stealing sheep - but only from the rich farms - and he's being hunted; one farmer, John, decides he wants to marry Fleurette, and once again there's repetition of the grandfather trying to force her, but this time it's John attempting to rape her in the barn where she was hiding, Paul having informed John where he could find her. Gwyneira saves her from being raped, but the grandfather assumes Fleurette was willing and declares he'd force an engagement. Gwyneira helps her run away that night by giving her help, money, and information that she is daughter of James McKenzie, whom Fleurette finds later after riding out, chiefly due to their dogs and horses recognising the respective siblings. The reunion is brief, he's caught next day while he insists she escape, and she finds Ruben after Daphne, who runs her own hotel in Queenstown, helping her.
The two get married next day and Fleurette helps him, and his partner Steu, set up a business that's far more profitable, and Ruben is elected justice of peace while he studies law; and their only problem is they can't afford to contact their mothers. The trial of James McKenzie comes up.
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Wardens attended the trial, and when James saw Paul, he understood everything, and was ashamed of having left with accusations against Gwyneira instead of trusting her; their eyes met accidentally and it was clear to them. He was forced to name the companion who'd fled as he was taken, and said it was a Maori girl who was precious to him, named 'pakupaku pua', which Gwyneira hurried to reti to ask for a translation - it meant Little Flower, she was told - and she knew he'd met Fleurette.
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The story ends well, despite twists and turns that keep one in suspense until the very end. Gwyneira is united with James, eventually, after the three dangerous males - Howard, Gerald and Paul - all die violently; Howard punching Gerald results in Gerald falling and cracking his skull, Paul shooting Gerald point blank to death with twenty witnesses has Paul fleeing inyo mountains where his Maori girl insists on accompanying him, they marry, but Paul is hunted out by her new young Maori chieftain who's jealous, and the young Maori who showed him where Paul was hiding kills Paul. But Marama, the Maori wife, is expecting, and she resolves the question of the land - it's the inheritance of the child to come.
Helen relocates to Queenstown after Howard, and is rewarded with not only her son, Fleurette and grandchildren, but the girls she chaperoned from England, Daphne and the twins. She's to settle near her son and look after such new young girls arriving.
Howard's land is given to Maori in settlement.
The story ends well, despite twists and turns that keep one in suspense until the very end. Gwyneira is united with James, eventually, after the three dangerous males - Howard, Gerald and Paul - all die violently; Howard punching Gerald results in Gerald falling and cracking his skull, Paul shooting Gerald point blank to death with twenty witnesses has Paul fleeing inyo mountains where his Maori girl insists on accompanying him, they marry, but Paul is hunted out by her new young Maori chieftain who's jealous, and the young Maori who showed him where Paul was hiding kills Paul. But Marama, the Maori wife, is expecting, and she resolves the question of the land - it's the inheritance of the child to come.
Helen relocates to Queenstown after Howard, and is rewarded with not only her son, Fleurette and grandchildren, but the girls she chaperoned from England, Daphne and the twins. She's to settle near her son and look after such new young girls arriving.
Howard's land is given to Maori in settlement.
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January 05 - 09 - 26, 2020 - February 01, 2020.
ISBN-13: 9781612184265
ISBN-10: 161218426X
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January 05 - 09 - 26, 2020 - February 01, 2020.
ISBN-13: 9781612184265
ISBN-10: 161218426X
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