The Central Otago town of Alexandra is at the core of two new novels by New Zealand writers Owen Marshall and Paddy Richardson. Shane Gilchrist finds out why.
The clock that looms large on the hill bordering the eastern edge of Alexandra attracts all sorts: from inquisitive tourists, to teens (sometimes hand in hand), to tots (hoisted by adventurous elders), all of whom climb towards a vantage point from which the town can be seen in its entirety.
In the winter chill, covered in haze, houses drift in and out of view; in summer's shimmer, the same dwellings offer a faint sense of movement.
In Central Otago, the seasons conspire to create a paradigm shift that is both repetitively banal and brutally magnificent.
Owen Marshall recognises this in his new novel, Carnival Sky, which offers a commentary on life, love, family and, in particular, death. All are rendered in small, quiet details, the opposite of melodrama.
As Marshall points out, his novel also has touches of dry humour.
That's typical of a writer whose short-story skills have been compared to Katherine Mansfield and Frank Sargeson, but whose talent extends to longer forms, from 1995's A Many-coated Man to 2007 effort Drybread, which was also set in Central Otago.
The 72-year-old Marshall (aka Owen Marshall Jones) and his wife, Jackie, normally reside in Timaru.
However, the couple spent several months in Alexandra last year, after the author was selected as resident of Henderson House, designed by Austrian-New Zealand modernist architect Ernst Plischke and built in 1950 for Russell and Barbara Henderson. (Mrs Henderson was a patron of the arts and Mr Henderson an entrepreneur.)
''A good deal of the draft had been done before I went to Alexandra, but the residency gave me an opportunity to finish the novel,'' Marshall explains via phone from Timaru.
''We spent last winter there. It's a good time for writing. You aren't tempted outside into the sunshine very often. My wife slipped on ice and broke her wrist but that was the only unfortunate thing to happen.''
Marshall also wrote quite a few poems during his time in Central Otago.
A collection of those was launched by Otago University Press in February, its title The White Clock, inspired by that hillside's rotating hands which, in counting time for an entire township, could be regarded as an enduring metaphor for mortality.
''One of the novel's main themes, of course, is grief,'' Marshall says.
''It was interesting to hear Prince William quoting the Queen [in his 2011 Christchurch earthquake memorial speech] in saying, 'grief is the price we pay for love'. I think that is actually a paraphrase of comments C. S. Lewis made.''
For his last publication, 2011 historical novel The Larnachs, Marshall delved into the romance and rumour of Dunedin's Larnach family. However, his latest finds him back in a modern world. Regardless, some themes are timeless.
Carnival Sky captures that difficult time of waiting for death, in this case that of key character Sheff's father.
Like many men, Sheff probably hasn't been the best in keeping close contact with either his sister or parents.
And, lost in his own grief for his baby daughter, he has become even more distant from his family.
Yet, with encouragement from his sister Lucy, he joins his sibling and returns to Alexandra to support his parents.
Although he is initially reluctant to assume the role of a dutiful son, Sheff finds this quiet time spent with his father, Warwick, during his last days brings an unexpected closeness.
''Looking at family dynamics, it is easy to see how people react to tragedy: sometimes it brings them closer together; sometimes it drives them apart.
''I think you can be resigned to losing parents and older people close to you, but when it is a child ... I'd imagine that grief would be particularly strong. You don't expect your children to die before you.
''In the novel, Sheff struggles with it for years afterwards. He is partly working through that as he deals with the illness of his father. There is a double-whammy going on.
''Sheff's life seems to be on hold. He's had enough of journalism, his marriage has ended and he can't move beyond another personal loss, which he can only think about in small doses.
''I think Sheff is attracted by the sense of community in Alexandra, which has a wonderful historical heritage, a unique landscape.
"It is a very interesting part of the world. It is smaller; people are in tune with what is around them, which I think is a healthy and healing thing.''
That resolution of large issues by way of a series of small gestures can be found in the words and tone of Carnival Sky. As a dying Warwick says: ''Life is bloody unoriginal.''
Marshall puts it another way: ''I don't believe in writing melodramatically about life.''
Marshall enjoyed the change of gear from historical novel The Larnachs, in which he focused on the rumoured love affair between William Larnach's much younger third wife, Constance de Bathe Brandon, whom he married in 1891, and his son Douglas.
''It seems to me most serious writers don't want to do the same thing over and over, even if they have been successful. I think that helps keep a sense of freshness in your writing.
''I didn't want to do another historical novel immediately. I did some poetry and now I'm back into contemporary fiction.
''One benefit was the language. I didn't have to cope with Victorian language and could use the vernacular. That gives you an ease and flexibility and playfulness.''
Paddy Richardson is another author familiar with Alexandra.
The Broad Bay writer, who lived in the Central Otago town in the 1980s and thus knows it ''pretty well'', opens her new novel, Swimming in the Dark, with the words, ''It was the cold that made her fall'', that brief sentence conveying a palpable sense of the place's sometimes oppressive winters.
''I don't want people to think Alexandra is a particularly sinister place,'' says the author of psychological crime thrillers The Company of a Daughter, A Year to Learn a Woman, Hunting Blind, Traces of Red and Cross Fingers.
''It is more based on that small-town closeness, that claustrophobia. But that can also be a blessing - I mean I have characters in the town wanting to help in their own way,'' Richardson says.
''I love Central Otago and the natural beauty of it. I wanted to celebrate that beauty: the sky and mountains, as well as portray the closeness of the town.''
When asked if Swimming in the Dark could have been set elsewhere and worked equally well, Richardson pauses: ''... Possibly. But I needed somewhere that had that winter chill and that contrast with the summer heat.''
The clock on the hill again ticks between the lines of a novel.
''Time in Alexandra is very closely monitored. I know when I lived in the town that there was a lot of pride in the clock.
''It seems like it's humanity imposing itself on nature in a way. And that's something I touch on in the book: this beautiful setting is kind of stuffed up by the ugliness of humans' deeds.''
Best described as contemporary fiction, Swimming in the Dark is a departure from Richardson's previous novels, most of which rest in the crime genre.
''Though there is a crime committed, this novel just turned out differently. I think you just write,'' Richardson muses.
''It's easy to be put in a box. This novel is the one I'm closest to. The characters really took me over.''
Lest the plot be spoiled, the description of Swimming in the Dark will be limited largely to its key themes, which include corruption, personal morality, innocence and love.
In putting flesh on the bones of her characters, Richardson evokes the idea of outsiders: be they local sisters Serena and Lynette, estranged from their community because of socio-economic (read ''bad family'') perceptions, or mother and daughter Gerda and Ilse, who have fled East Germany.
''Serena and Lynette are from a family who are less fortunate; they get into trouble and don't fit into the town.
''The inspiration for the characters of Gerda and Ilse, and East Germany being partially the setting for the novel, came out of visiting Leipzig in 2012 when I was invited [as part of the New Zealand Guest of Honour status in Frankfurt] to the Leipzig Book Fair,'' Richardson explains.
''I fell in love with the city. I loved the little cobbled streets. I was fascinated by the buildings, the charm of the place and also the history.
''I did go to the Stasi Museum, which is in the old Stasi buildings, and it was chilling. It had this atmosphere that was very odd.
''Again, there was this contrast between the beauty of the outside of a place and this inner chill.''
