I live in a small place somewhere near Auckland, New Zealand. After doing social work for fifteen years in several agencies I was glad to retire from that profession. I had paid off an acre at Otauma with a two-bedroomed house which was not expensive, where I grew plants such as hellebores and Japanese anemones. What I particularly wanted to write about was boarders and friends, mostly Maori.
Chris has retired in his middle years to a village where young Maoris are abundant. Accommodation is scarce and Chris has room for a boarder. Addiction? Bullshit? Humour? Beauty of body? Will his interest in Literature sustain Chris through all his dilemmas? Will he at last finish Book, small though it is?