Quicksand in Portobello
By Reading Room | Posted:
Today is the last day of the novelist Kathryn van Beek’s year-long tenure as Dunedin’s Robert Burns Fellow
Quicksand in Portobello (newsroom.co.nz)
I follow the Leith River as it winds past the University of Otago’s clocktower before our paths diverge at the weeping willows. Sparrows chatter from behind the flowers that rise in clusters from the horse-chestnut trees. A familiar, biscuity scent envelops me as I climb the Arts Building stairs and pull an oversized key from my pocket. It looks as though it could open a magical kingdom. And in a way, it does. It unlocks the door to the Robert Burns Fellow’s office.
Established in 1958 by a group of Dunedin residents including the poet and arts patron Charles Brasch, the literary fellowship provides the office and a salary. The fellowship named in honour of Robert Burns has supported writers including Janet Frame, Hone Tuwhare, Owen Marshall, Catherine Chidgey, Becky Manawatu – and for the past year, ending today, me.
In 2022 I was spending my days working in a dark office in a former hospital ward and my nights finishing a seemingly endless doctoral thesis. I’d begun my study because I felt sick about the state of the world and wanted to know if I, a creative writer, could do something to improve things. I’d managed to change a law (the Holidays (Bereavement Leave for Miscarriage) Amendment Act 2021) but was frustratingly no closer to ending climate change, the ill-treatment of animals, or the patriarchy. Inspired by the random effects of the pandemic and what I was learning about ergodic literature, I took a break from ‘worthy’ projects and wrote a secret path adventure called The ManyEnding Story. But by Burns Fellowship application time, I was back to wanting to change the world. “I aim to cover challenging ideas in ways that leave readers feeling excited about the future and inspired to make a positive difference,” I wrote. And then I got The Call.
The piper began his haunting tune and the Mayor of Dunedin stepped into the Toitū Otago Settlers Museum. In a shimmering dress I followed, the eyes of the dinner guests on us as we circled the atrium and took our seats. A haggis – the “great Chieftain o’ the Puddin-race” – was piped in and addressed with much knife waving. We heard poetry, feasted on neeps and tatties, and danced the ceilidh in a tradition dating back to Ōtepoti’s inaugural Burns Night Dinner in 1885.
This was the first of five special occasions that marked the beginning of the fellowship. The next was morning tea with the English department, at which iced animal biscuits were served in a nod to my short story collection, Pet. There was also a glamorous welcome event at Hocken Collections. It was all a far cry from my usual life of work, study, and geriatric cat care.
In my new office I sat at a wooden desk autographed by literary luminaries, watched over by past fellows including Witi Ihimaera, Keri Hulme and Renée, who gazed out at me from official photos of their own. Days stretched before me, waiting to be written on. I finally had what I’d wanted for so long – and I was stewing in anxiety. It was the usual self-doubt, and it was also existential. I’d arrived at the university at the same time as AI chatbot GPT-4: how could I compete with a faceless entity that had been trained on more books than I could ever read? My panic rose. I couldn’t sleep. I felt disgusted with myself.
The anxiety dissipated, and I started to write. I’d decided to keep office hours, and after years of juggling creative writing and paid jobs, I looked forward to having weekends and evenings free. But I always have a portfolio of writing projects on the go, and in 2023 I just added more. With Ali Benge and Lil O’Brien, I co-edited a collection of essays called Otherhood (to be published this May by Massey University Press; it includes an essay by Golriz Ghahraman), and our spare time was spent running a Boosted campaign, liaising with writers and checking proofs. Inspired by the process, I wrote new essays of my own: one about being half Dutch, and another about a family legend. I revised short stories, worked on a couple of screen projects, and wrote another draft of my secret (because I wasn’t sure if I could finish it) venture: my first novel.
And then I went to Hungary.
Shortly after learning about the Burns, I had some other unexpected news. I’d been accepted into a month-long Hungarian Writers Residency, and had received the Winston Churchill McNeish Fellowship to enable me to go. Normally I do not receive phone calls from people offering me amazing opportunities: usually I’m deleting ‘thanks but no thanks’ emails or simply being ghosted. One year I entered 71 rejections into my writing spreadsheet, all colour-coded a despairing shade of blue. So, the chance to accept the Russian doll of a residency wrapped in a fellowship nested within another fellowship was too good to pass up.
I wrote an essay about a record-breaking wolf, M237, who had travelled from Switzerland to Hungary before being illegally shot. But M237 wasn’t the only animal occupying my thoughts. When my cat died of old age in a Dunedin cattery, I was ready to come home.
Back at my Dunedin office as a Burns Fellow, I wrote another draft of my novel, Silvereye, sent it off for feedback, and then … finished it. Hunt for the Wilderpeople meets Things I Learned at Art School, it’s a story that asks how to respond to a world full of people destroying it and themselves. It’s also a romp through the luscious scenery of the lower South Island, complete with gold prospecting and hot air balloon rides.
With the clock still running on the fellowship, I set to work on an unexpected collaboration. My secret path adventure The ManyEnding Story had piqued the interest of the English department, and master’s student Jacob Cone migrated the story online. It’s free to play … just watch out for the quicksand.
At the end of the month I’ll relinquish the key to the office, walk out of the Arts Building and step back into my ordinary life. But I’m no longer dreaming about glass slippers. Now that I know I can finish a novel, I’m already thinking about my next one.
The ManyEnding Story is available to play online. The author describes it thus: “You’re a graphic designer and lizard enthusiast who’s just turned 31. You’re trying to level up as an adult by collecting all five possible ‘adult points’ – a career, a partner, a kid, your own home, and creative fulfilment. Will you find yourself designing computer games in Toronto, having two beautiful children with a colorectal surgeon, or teaming up with a sexy detective to bust an international smuggling ring? Or will you spiral into drug addiction, choke to death on a cheese roll, or get eaten by a shark?”
Kathryn van Beek was the 2023 Robert Burns Fellow and the Winston Churchill McNeish Writers’ Fellow. She has a doctorate on the topic of using writing as a tool for positive change. More by Kathryn van Beek