The Luminaries

night; Alistair Lauderback rides to meet his bastard brother; Francis Carver makes for the Arahura Valley on a tip; Walter Moody disembarks upon New Zealand soil; Lydia Wells spins her wheel of fortune; George Shepard sits in the gaol-house, his rifle laid across his knees; a shipping crate on Gibson Quay is opened; the lovers lie down together; Carver uncorks a phial of laudanum; Moody turns his face to unfamiliar skies; the lovers fall asleep; Lauderback rehearses his apology; Carver comes upon the excavated fortune; Lydia spins her wheel again; Emery Staines wakes to an empty bed; Anna Wetherell, in need of solace, lights her pipe; Staines falls and strikes his head; Anna is concussed; in drugged confusion Staines sets out into the night; in concussed confusion Anna sets out into the night; Lauderback spies his brother’s cottage from the ridge; Crosbie Wells drinks half the phial; Moody checks into an hotel; Staines makes a misstep on Gibson Quay, and collapses; Anna makes a misstep on the Christchurch-road, and collapses; the lid of the shipping crate is nailed in place; Carver commits a piece of paper to the stove; Lydia Wells laughs long and gaily; Shepard blows his lantern out; and the hermit’s spirit detaches itself, ever so gently, and begins its lonely passage upwards, to find its final resting place among the stars.
    ‘Tonight shall be the very beginning.’
    ‘Was it?’
    ‘It shall be. For me.’
    ‘My beginning was the albatrosses.’
    ‘That is a good beginning; I am glad it is yours. Tonight shall be mine.’
    ‘Ought we to have different ones?’
    ‘Different beginnings? I think we must.’
    ‘Will there be more of them?’
    ‘A great many more. Are your eyes closed?’
    ‘Yes. Are yours?’
    ‘Yes. Though it’s so dark it hardly makes a difference.’
    ‘I feel—more than myself.’
    ‘I feel—as though a new chamber of my heart has opened.’
    ‘Listen.’
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘The rain.’

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
    I am very grateful for the support and encouragement of the New Zealand Arts Foundation, the estate of Louis Johnson, Creative New Zealand, the New Zealand Society of Authors, the Taylor-Chehak family, the Schultz family, the Iowa Arts Foundation, the University of Canterbury English Department, the Michael King Writers’ Centre, the University of Auckland English Department, the Manukau Institute of Technology Faculty of Creative Arts, and my colleagues and teachers at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. I feel very fortunate in having found a home at Granta in the UK, at Little, Brown in the USA, and at Victoria University Press in New Zealand.
    This book is not a factual account by any means; however I owe a debt of inspiration to Colin Townsend’s account of the Seaview prison,
Misery Hill
, and Stevan Eldred-Grigg’s history of the New Zealand gold rushes,
Diggers, Hatters and Whores
. I am also indebted to the National Library of New Zealand news paper archives (paperspast.natlib.govt.nz); the extensive and some times hilarious astrological resources at www.astro.com; and the work of astrologers Stella Starsky and Quinn Cox. In charting stellar and planetary positions I used the interactive sky chart provided at www.starandtelescope.com and also the Mac application
Stellarium
.
    My love and thanks to Max Porter, Sara Holloway, and Fergus Barrowman; to Philip Gwyn Jones and Reagan Arthur; to Caroline Dawnay, Olivia Hunt, Jessica Craig, Linda Shaughnessy, Sarah Thickett, Zoe Ross, and Sophie Scard; and of course to EmmaBorges-Scott, Justin Torres, Evan James, Katie Parry, and Thomas Fox Parry, whose friendship and conversation inspired this book in countless ways. Sincere thanks also to XuChong Judy Guan, who translated sections of this book into phonetic Cantonese; to Christine Lo, Sarah Bance, Ilona Jasiewicz, and Anne Meadows, who helped to edit the manuscript; to Barbara Hilliam, who drew the charts so beautifully; to Philip Catton, who explained the stars, the planets, and the golden ratio; and to Joan Oakley, who sent me the shipping news, across the sea.
    Lastly and above all: to Steven Toussaint, who was there for every conjunction, every opposition, and every dawn; who was Outermost and Innermost; who had faith in relation, and shared that faith with me. I cannot place a measure on your influence. Thank you—I to Thou.

ALSO BY ELEANOR CATTON
    The Rehearsal

Copyright
    Granta Publications, 12 Addison Avenue, London W11 4QR
    First published in Great Britain by