Janet Frame’s debut collection of stories, The Lagoon, collects together pieces she wrote during the late 1940s and early 1950s, a time when she was repeatedly hospitalized in psychiatric institutions. The collection was initially published in 1951 by The Caxton Press (there have been numerous subsequent editions) and in 1952 won the Hubert Church Memorial Award, a New Zealand literary prize established in 1945 and given annually to the best first book of prose published during the previous year. The book established Frame’s reputation as a daring prose stylist and fearless storyteller who focused her art primarily on childhood perceptions of the adult world. The stories are loosely structured, rarely dramatic and occasionally come across as surreal or dreamlike. Several of the stories are built around a family event of some sort, such as an outing or a holiday, in which children interact with the natural world while forming alliances and making observations about their siblings, their parents or other adults. Some situate the narrator in a grown-up environment reminiscing about or recalling an earlier time in his or her life. The trusting and ingenuous perspective that dominates the stories concerning children is often threatened or endangered by the more serious and weighty concerns of those around them, creating a kind of push-pull effect as the children are thrust into the adult world and compelled to acknowledge it. But we discover too that the adults in Frame’s stories are not always reliable, the men sometimes drunk, the women often distracted, confused or depressed. Read in sequence, the twenty-four stories collected in this volume create the impression of an author of prose fiction who, while trying to establish her voice through experimentation, is actively seeking ways to stretch the limits of the genre. Though the fragmentary nature of some of the stories in The Lagoon mark it as a youthful work, it remains a significant document that heralds the arrival of an extraordinary writer who over the next fifty years would produce one masterpiece after another.