Bronwyn Tate: Lily's Cupola

Reviewed by ELSPETH SANDYS

Over the past few weeks a debate has been simmering in the literary community about the who, how and why of being a successful writer. While most of the arguments have been more entertaining than enlightening, I have found myself thinking about how the issues relate to Bronwyn Tate and her latest novel, Lily's Cupola.

As far as the public is concerned, Tate is not in the same league as, for example, Elizabeth Knox or Catherine Chidgey. On the strength of Lily's Cupola, she should be. She is a skilful writer whose graceful use of language transforms the lives of ordinary people, in a manner reminiscent of the incomparable Barbara Pym.

Lily's Cupola is the best of Tate's work so far: a complex tale told through letters and memories, and mirrored in the quilt Lily and her friends are making for an exhibition in London.

"I can't decide whether I have been wicked and sinful, or merely human," octogenarian Lily admits, in one of the many letters she writes to her estranged sister. I have little doubt most readers, beguiled by Tate's telling of the story of Lily's life, will see her as endearingly and forgivably human.

There were times, as the story jumped between past and present, when I struggled with the alternative names for some of the characters. And I did wonder about the use of the terms "the front" and "the trenches" in relation to World War II. But none of this distracts from the delights of this gentle and surprising tale, which unfolds as vividly as the quilt that brings the strands of Lily's broken life together.

Otago University Press, $29.95