Danyl McLauchlan's first novel is about an eponymous novelist. Photo / Robert Cross
Danyl McLauchlan's first novel is about an eponymous novelist. Photo / Robert Cross
Unspeakable Secrets Of The Aro Valley by Danyl McLauchlan (Victoria Univ. Press $35)
A first novel from a Wellington biologist and blogger (I had to tell you that), Unspeakable Secrets Of The Aro Valley is a great title. And its blurb is intriguing: the publishers call it "a classic Kiwi comicmystery erotic horror adventure novel", which is comprehensive.
It's set very specifically in Wellington's iconic central city gully, with its tottery three-storey houses, diverse emporia and idiosyncratic inhabitants. We get street names, track details, evocations of Aro Park with its waft of illicit substances.
The protagonist is also named Danyl - how very Generation Y-Z. He's eternally innocent and adolescent, engagingly eager, randy and calamity-prone. He's been ditched by his lady; he's writing a sort of novel; his wardrobe sometimes comes from the hospital lost-and-found trolley. You'll warm to him.
After near-decapitation by a wild, old shovel-wielder, Danyl is instantly into a set-up involving a Cult, a Temple, and a Well. There are century-old mysteries in Epuni St.
Rooms are wrecked. So is a garden. Satanists slink around; a man in a photo has his face scratched out; a white van and a dark tower feature. Rather a lot of enigmatic objects are uncovered and opened.
The suspense cranks up. Will Danyl with his spontaneously re-injured leg get down the elevator shaft? Will the SSS find The Priest's Soul? What the hell is The Priest's Soul?
Lots of entertaining set pieces and half-set people. You'll like the Wellness Heal U Centre, run by a well-endowed witch, and Steve the psychologist who worries about the professional ethics of assaulting an elderly Satanist. You should like the tetchy Deputy Chief Hierophant.
They're part of a lively cast of alternatives and oddballs, melancholics and frenetics. Even the doctor is a pothead who has ambled off to Bhutan.
Characters declaim a lot. Fair enough: nearly every one of them is a performance, and their discourses are entertainingly extra-dimensional. "I have found a way to transfer the story of the self to a timeless vessel." Uh-huh.
Things stay clever right up to the Acknowledgments. McLauchlan kicks it all along energetically, keeps the mood swinging effectively between melodrama and deflation.
There's a nice underpinning of neediness and affection, plus an ending where all that's gold doesn't necessarily glitter. It's never dull, and often threatens to become addictive.
