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<p>So it’s fitting that these are the final lines of the novel:</p>
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<p>And that is how Moody sees himself, and how the 12 see him, too:</p>
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<p>Okay, thanks for the gold synopsis. I think I was following it all at the time, except I have no memory of step 10.</p>
<p>Step 10 is an extrapolation based on the ambiguous scene with Crosbie and Tauhaware on p. 814. They are sharing a meal over a fire pit, “some half mile downriver from the site of the newly buried gold,” discussing the inherent value of gold vs. greenstone. We know the gold is on Maori land, so my guess is that Crosbie asked for Tauhaware’s help in locating it.</p>
<p>Mary: Good tracking of the gold. One question - #10 on the list. It makes sense but can’t remember if - or rather, where I saw it in the book. I did find where Carver “comes upon the excavated fortune.” (* Oops just saw your post/explanation ^^^)</p>
<p>One correction - #15. Lydia legally gets half the fortune as Carver’s widow.
Emery has to pay all expenses out of his half of the gold. </p>
<p>So Emery’s luck goes down - jail, seriously depleted fortune, recovering from addiction and gunshot wound. Still, Emery seems okay - or, at least, resigned - with all the twists and turns of (his) fortune (ha).</p>
<p>Anna’s luck goes up - her debts paid off to Mannering, so she longer “whores,” enough gold to live comfortably while she waits for Emery, and lastly she and Emery are no longer “star-crossed” lovers (ha).</p>
<p>Overall, a satisfactory ending for most (poor Ah Sook and Margaret) of the characters. Nilssen reaps the benefits of his generosity while not being out of pocket himself; Frost recoups his expenses; Ah Quee gets to return home with his bit of “homeward bounder” and so on. </p>
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Not really an answer to your questions but I understand what you mean when you attribute the flashbacks to the “real author.” I did find the flashbacks easy reading. I knew the characters and a broad outline of the events; it was nice seeing details filled in. I enjoyed many of the first meetings - Anna with Emery … Lydia … Crosbie … Carver … Clinch … Mannering … Ah Sook; Emery in much the same way but throw in Frost and Ah Quee; Carver meets with Tauwhare and Pritchard. And so it starts.</p>
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<p>Thank you for the correction. That’s important and I missed it. Again, I give a nod to Justice Kemp. Even though Carver was a rogue, he and Emery were legal partners, so by rights half should go to him, like it or not. Granted, Emery was kind of duped into the partnership, but it was still valid. Live and learn. I agree that Emery will be fine – just a little poorer and a little less naive. The latter is not necessarily a bad thing, and as for the former, Emery himself says, “Money’s only money, and it does one good to be out of pocket every once in a while” (p. 632).</p>
<p>What did you think about Crosbie? I liked the way Catton finally let him go in the end: “…and the hermit’s spirit detaches itself, ever so gently, and begins its lonely passage upward, to find its final resting place among the stars” (p. 831).</p>
<p>Up to that last page, the feeling of Crosbie’s presence pervades the book, as if he could not be at peace until avenged. </p>
<p>I had a little trouble reconciling his different personalities. There’s the Crosbie who writes to Lauderback and who seems earnest, self-effacing and vulnerable. Then there’s the Crosbie who seduces Anna, a gruff man of bitter honesty, with a sharp eye for character. Then there’s the violent Crosbie, who beats Francis Carver within an inch of his life, and deliberately scars him. Maybe it’s just a way of showing that he can’t be pigeon-holed, that people are complex. (If that’s the case, it works against the your-sign-determines-exactly-who-you-are theory, because he is unpredictable and multi-faceted.)</p>
<p>One question: How do you think his death scene actually went down? We know from Tauwhare that Carver entered the cabin when Crosbie was there (i.e., he did not slink into the cabin, poison the booze without being seen, and leave). So how did Carver pull off the murder without a struggle? As we saw in the earlier fight, they were well-matched physically. And Crosbie would never have accepted a drink from Carver. He was already suspicious that Lydia was trying to poison him. Nor would he have turned his back on Carver, allowing him to slip the liquid into his drink. So help me here… Did I miss a reference somewhere that suggests how this scene played out?</p>
<p>Well, Crosbie was not given an astrological sign. He was the Earth…Terra Firma. One thing about the Earth is that it is varied! </p>
<p>It’s true, when you meet Crosbie after reading his affecting letters, he seems startlingly rough and crude. But he was the offspring of a whore and a gentleman, which I guess lent itself to having multiple facets?</p>
<p>One thing I liked about Crosbie was his friendship with Tauwhare and his interest in Maori language and lore. That was kind of an “Earth” link too…a tie to the land he was living in.</p>
<p>Quick answers (as I’m heading out for a bit):</p>
<p>Crosbie’s death: Perhaps Crosbie is already drunk - blacked out. Carver enters, doses Crosbie’s whiskey, pokes around, leaves. Crosbie drinks. Or perhaps Crosbie’s on his feet but drunk enough not to assess correctly the trouble he’s in.</p>
<p>In the book Crosbie is not one of the stellar or planetary characters. He’s Terra Firma and all revolve around him. His presence does pervade the book. His “homeward bounder” and his connection to Lauderback set Lydia and Carver’s con in motion. He orchestrates Staines’ reputation as lucky young man. He fathers Anna’s baby. And, most importantly, it’s his gold that we track throughout the book - and that so many benefit from when all’s said and done. (I wonder how he’d feel about Lydia getting that half-share.)</p>
<p>I figure that Crosbie’s had a hard life and is living in a hard place. The different sides of his personality don’t bother me. Anna is fair game to him by dint of where she is. I don’t think he forces her, so I can only figure she’s not completely innocent in that way. She only feels upset when she realizes that he’s Lydia’s husband not because of other actions taken.</p>
<p>I found this interview with Catton. I haven’t had time to listen to all of it but what I have heard is interesting. I’ll finish listening later. Enjoy:</p>
<p><a href=“http://www.edrants.com/eleanor-catton-the-bat-segundo-show-524/”>http://www.edrants.com/eleanor-catton-the-bat-segundo-show-524/</a></p>
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<p>Ah yes. Nicely put!</p>
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<p>True and yet ironic as well, because Crosbie was so homesick for England in the early years, writing to Lauderback, “I do not want to be in this country sir I never sought this life” (p. 471). Eventually, he decides to stay, because in New Zealand, “every man is equal in his way” and “the frontier I think makes brothers of us all” (p. 473). Even so, in one of his later letters, he writes, “I feel English through and through” (p. 476).</p>
<p>ignatius, thanks for the interview. I really enjoyed it and found the author very appealing. The following comment from Catton struck me as particularly interesting, since one of the critiques from some members here is that in The Luminaries, character depth is sacrificed for an overly clever structure that draws attention to form rather than content. Apparently, that’s the opposite of what she was trying to achieve.</p>
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<p>I haven’t listened to the interview yet, but did read the excerpts. I think it’s fascinating that she says one of her biggest influences is children’s lit and that she likes it’s straightforwardness and that kids won’t put up with authors getting too fancy. It will be interesting to see what she comes up with if she ever writes a truly character driven novel without a post-modern structure!</p>
<p>I’ve definitely read novels where I’ve thought I’d like to write like them. Either because the quality of the writing seemed so perfect, or because I got so invested in the characters I wished I knew how it was done.</p>
<p>New piece on Salon about complaints about “elitist” literary writers, takes off from Catton and quotes her:</p>
<p><a href=“http://www.salon.com/2014/02/07/is_the_literary_world_elitist/”>http://www.salon.com/2014/02/07/is_the_literary_world_elitist/</a></p>
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<li><p>I was pleasantly surprised that astrology was by no means the focus of the interview. It was discussed, but on an equal par with a variety of other aspects of the novel. In so many of the reviews of the book, the astrological element is presented as the be-all and end-all of the story, which really isn’t the case.</p></li>
<li><p>Catton mentioned at one point (I’m paraphrasing) that the unfolding of the story becomes much more exciting upon a second reading. Having now done so much re-reading (thank you, snow), I have to agree.</p></li>
<li><p>If you can make it to the very end, I really liked Catton’s comments tying together love, Martin Buber’s I and Thou, and the golden ratio.</p></li>
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<p>I was glad that Ms. Catton got a positive nod in the Salon article. She doesn’t come across in the interview as elitist at all. On the contrary, I thought she was refreshingly unaffected.</p>
<p>One thing I thought was very interesting in the interview can be found at around minutes 45 - 50. Catton talks about the power of the omniscient narrator and the limits of the first person and the present tense. She likes how adverbs can be used as linguistic sculpting and shaping tools, although they do not fit well into first person, present tense narratives. Apparently, adverbs are even somewhat looked down upon today! Catton, however, feels that they are valuable elements of a strong declarative style. </p>
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Oh good grief. What an ego on this woman! Sorry Ms.Catton, but there are a lot of books out there I want to read, an endless number, actually, and taking the time to reread your 800+ pages instead of getting on with my next selection–not gonna happen. If a reader has to make double the effort to get all your “excitement”, you’ve failed in telling your tale. Besides, since I found nothing whatsoever exciting in The Luminaries, the concept of it getting “more” exciting doesn’t really work for me.</p>
<p>MommaJ, I felt exactly the same way about Winter’s Tale by Mark Helprin. It’s close to 800 pages, but felt like 2000, and I wanted to set it afire about halfway through. Yet, when I look at the five star reviews on Amazon and Barnes and Noble, readers are writing things like, “I re-read it once a year” and “I love this book more with each re-read.” I can only scratch my head in bewilderment.</p>
<p>In context, Catton’s interview comment about re-reading referred to the murder mystery aspect of the novel. She goes on to say that there are clues that the reader doesn’t know to look for the first time around, but then can have fun with a second time through. </p>
<p>My grandmother was a great reader of mysteries. It was her favorite genre by far. After finishing a mystery she particularly liked, she would start it over to find out what she had missed. Eventually, by the time she was in her 80s, she would read the last chapter of the mystery first, and then start the book knowing the ending, so she could find all the clues right away. I am certain she would have advised me to do the same with The Luminaries!</p>
<p>Momma J, I’m with you. I’ve been feeling I’m not so sympathetic than other readers because one reason I had problems sticking with this book was that I just didn’t really care who killed Crosbie. Nor do I think most of the characters cared beyond greed. If I could have gotten the gold nugget had I figured out the puzzle, now that would have made a difference!</p>
<p>On the subject of re-reading, I thought you all might enjoy the article linked below, which refers to one of our past selections. In an interview, Stephen King says, “I wouldn’t like it if you read [my books] twice and thought about stuff the second time.” To which the writer of the article responds:</p>
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<p>LOL!</p>
<p><a href=“http://www.deathandtaxesmag.com/204097/stephen-king-does-not-want-you-to-read-his-books-twice-and-think-about-stuff/”>http://www.deathandtaxesmag.com/204097/stephen-king-does-not-want-you-to-read-his-books-twice-and-think-about-stuff/</a></p>
<p>^^^ Very good, Mary. </p>
<p>Actually MommaJ made me ponder rereading books this morning and I thought of some of our past selections. When I came to 11/22/63, I thought liked it, would recommend it but no interest in rereading it. (I would like to reread Cloud Atlas and Possession.)</p>
<p>MommaJ: I disagree that Catton’s comments reflect ego/hubris. No matter the reader reaction - love or hate the book or indifferent - she poured time and effort into it. I heard a well-known author asked to choose his favorite book (of the ones he wrote) and he answered “the one I’m writing now.” He went on to clarify that an author almost has to feel that way - each book needs to be a labor of love.</p>
<p>I would like to reread The Luminaries - at some point in the distant future. Not surprising, as I’m in a rereading phase right now. I am revisiting books from my past and thoroughly enjoying doing so. Last night I started Up a Road Slowly. When I opened it I found the inscription: To “ignatius” from Mother 1967. It felt like my mother (now deceased) visited me for a moment.</p>
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I’ve been known to read the last chapter of mysteries or check for movie spoilers before engaging. My husband finds this appalling but sometimes I just like to catch the clues as I go rather than waiting. I didn’t peek with The Luminaries but certainly have done a fair amount of rereading once I figured things out.</p>
<p>Ignatius, I’m the same way about spoilers. I don’t care so much about plot as about how the work is written, or how the movie is made. When I read The Luminaries the first time, I was all anxious about the plot. When I read it the second time, I just enjoyed the language.</p>
<p>I like Stephen King and have read a number of his books. I can’t imagine rereading one, though! I do keep an eye out for new books of his that I might enjoy. It is generally the more literary books that reward re-reading.</p>
<p>I’m not so much a mystery fan, but back in my twenties somebody turned me on to the Inspector Appleby mysteries by Michael Innes. I especially liked one called Hamlet, Revenge. It’s been so long since I read it that I think I might like to revisit it someday.</p>