Shonagh Koea: Time for a killing

By PENNY BIEDER*

A witty warning on the joys and sorrows of owning real estate, perhaps, this novel is a departure for Shonagh Koea. On radio she fondly called it a "divertissement," an entertainment she wrote while enduring the horrors of selling her Auckland house and moving to Taranaki - a move, she added, that she is not altogether convinced was a good idea.

Ideas abound in this dry little story. It swings between two establishments - one an upmarket bordello in an unidentified metropolis, called the Cote d'Azur; the other number 10 Fleming St, a house much loved by its various previous occupants who have returned as invisible ghosts to sit on the stairs and mourn and scoff at its present owners.

Moira and Kevin Crumlatch have ripped out the lovely garden that ghostly Eduardo had such plans for, and everything in the house has become imitation this and polyester that. Even their stairs are now covered "in a slightly luminous red velvet carpeting that was entirely synthetic and contained not one shred of pure wool." As well, the four genteel ghosts must endure Kevin's endless bullying of Moira.

Kevin has decided it's time for a killing and the big house must be sold.

In the red light district, Richard Villetto, owner of the Cote d'Azur, spares no expense in creating an atmosphere. The chairs and sofas are "reupholstered at least once a year in handwoven fabrics made by genuine peasants in Peru" and he has "imported grey marble columns from Tunisia which had been put up in the vestibule, the main bath house and the premier reception rooms."

Koea has enormous fun setting the scene for a busy group of endearing characters, both dead and alive. With consummate skill she whips from present to past, allowing the invisible ghosts to sound a little dated - they are dead, after all, but making the gals from the city sound very contemporary indeed as they look after their customers - lawyers and brokers, yachtsmen and tycoons.

Well-known for her fearless skewering of pretensions, Koea affectionately sticks it to the establishment while at the same time knowledgeably describing furniture, jewellery, clothes and shoes. When Villetto suffers a nasty turn she has his manservant shout: "He just keeps repeating the same thing over and over again - something about money, I think. Perhaps we should send for the accountant."

While there is much to enjoy and laugh at in a conspiratorial sort of way in this romp, I did find myself hankering after the superb portraits of solitary women that Koea is justly celebrated for in her earlier books, which contain more real humanity and compassion for the truly invisible people in society than is to be found in this tale of a bunch of charming ghosts.

Random House

$24.95

* Penelope Bieder is a freelance writer.

* Shonagh Koea will be a guest at the Auckland Writers' Festival.