The Deck

by Fiona Farrell

A novel about telling stories in a time of change.
What is the point of inventing stories when reality eclipses imagination?

A little way off in the future, during a time of plague and profound social collapse, a group of friends escapes to a house in the country where they entertain themselves by playing music, eating, drinking and telling stories about their lives. There are tales of thieves and pirates, deaths and a surprise birth, a freak wave and many other stories of misadventure resulting in unexpected felicity.

The Deck borrows the motifs of Giovanni Boccaccio’s 14th-century masterpiece, The Decameron, in which another small group gathered to avoid contagion and passed the time telling stories. But what is the role of fiction, this novel asks, as civilisation falters?

Genres: Fiction

304 pages, Paperback

Published April 18, 2023

About the author

Fiona Farrell, ONZM (born 1947) is a New Zealand poet, fiction writer and playwright.

Reviews

[Marcus Hobson · Rating 4 out of 5]

I have enjoyed a number of Fiona Farrell’s novels over the last few years. This latest is operating on a number of levels and I love the way this novel is playing with the readers.

Take the title for example. You would assume that a New Zealand novel called The Deck would be all about that low wooden platform attached to the back (or the front) of a house. And on one level you’d be right, because there is indeed a very large modern house with a wonderful deck overlooking a remote bay from the back of the dunes. All architect designed with sleeping pods for guests and indoor-outdoor flow. But The Deck is also referring to something quite different, because this book takes its shape and inspiration from The Decameron by Boccaccio, written in the 1350s. Although I own a copy, I confess it has languished unread on my shelves for, well, let’s just say decades. But what I had failed to notice is how relevant it has become for modern times, because in it a group of friends flee the city of Florence, which is being ravaged by plague – the Black Death no less. They move to a remote spot in the country, where they pass the time telling each other stories. The fourteenth century version of Netflix and working from home. Seven young women and three young men each tell a story every day for ten days. Each day there is a short introduction, framing the tales and Farrell uses the same device at the start. It is even called The Frame and in it the writer addresses the reader directly. The parallels of plague and COVID are obvious. The emptying of New Zealand as the tourists stop arriving is echoed loud and clear:

“First there was the silence. The country shut down and silence fell. The CBDs emptied as workers retreated to work from home. The motorways emptied, and the airports where planes had roared in, bringing the tourists to see the tree in the lake, the chapel in the carpark, the casino with the pokies, the hotel room with the view of the mountains, and the bridge where it was possible to catch a curated glimpse of your own death from the end of a rubber bungy. The ports emptied where the cruise ships had disgorged thousands onto the streets to buy jade carved into the shapes of kiwi and koru. They had bought woollen socks and were taken on the buses to see a sheep being shorn and a cathedral that had fallen down in an earthquake and a vineyard where they could buy pinot noir and sauvignon.”

I love the irony of this quote, because it echoes the lack of things to come and see and the emptiness of when no one is here looking at these same few things. Farrell continues:

“The novelist has read the tales with their cast of lusty young wives and rampant young men, their randy monks and roaming merchants with their ships and fluctuating fortunes, their princesses in disguise, their weird and brutal sexual politics. But in this era of contact tracing and genome sequencing, quarantine facilities and graphs of mortality, it is not the fiction that absorbs her, but the prologue.”

And then goes on in some detail to describe what Boccaccio was doing with his stories. She sums it up beautifully in a line; “It’s the sound of modern fiction taking root in the trenches of 1348.”
What follows are ten tales woven into the description of six days by the sea. Friends and acquaintances gather at the architectural coastal bach, escaping the plague. They are both friends and family, all bringing their own backstory. They are heading to Philippa’s remote house because she has to escape her home in the city, designed by her architect husband Tom. She describes her city apartment like this:

“Because the alternative is the apartment. Tom’s Tower. Long-listed at the time of construction for the Rosenberg Award, with its ten apartments, theirs the topmost, a masterpiece, the citation said, of sustainable design with its views across the plains to the distant rim of mountains. She really cannot bear the thought of it. Day after day enclosed in that apartment with its perfectly curated view, that interior perfection, that innovative technology that so impressed the judges and reduces all external sound, the sound of life being lived out there in the city, to a buzzing in her ears.”

Each of the following ten tales begins with the same phrase; “A tale of one who, after divers misadventures, at last attains a goal of unexpected felicity.” The wonder of the tales is that they all reveal something unexpected and they have consequences – sometimes things that have never been said before and probably should have been said in private and not revealed to a large group around the dinner table. This little description thumbnails those around the table on the deck. Maria, the cinematographer, pans her mental camera across the group:

“There’s Philippa presiding from the head of the table, overseeing the direction of discussion, doing that annoying thing she has always done of taking responsibility for everyone’s happiness, keeping everything calm and sweet by batting away unpleasantness.
And Tom, poor desperate Tom, reduced from the star he used to be and now acting it instead, the jovial host, but no one can keep that up for ever and every so often the jolly old mask slips and there it is: despair. His eyes falter. He has no idea how to live this bit when he is no longer his job, when he is no longer the handsome prince, but portly and balding and frightened.
And Ani who is sweet and kind and glad to be alive, and Pete. And Didi, who is interesting, there’s a savagery in Didi. And her beautiful Zoe, in whom the future has yet to take shape. And right at the bottom of the table, on the edge and even quieter than usual, is Baz. His guitar has been laid aside, he seems restless and he refuses to meet her eye. And when she sees him glance over at her then look away, she feels, for the first time in her life, shame.”

This is a slow unfolding read that is well worth the journey. The rewards are rich as the tales of felicity unfold around the group and even their beachside paradise is threatened. The plague, the people, the location, and their stories all have a masterful selection of unsettling effects. This must be the best of all the COVID inspired pieces yet to emerge from the world’s writers.

[Carole · Rating 5 out of 5]

I love the format of this novel, with a 'Frame' at the beginning where the author speaks directly to the reader, outlining her current situation and giving some context for the story that's about to begin. Then the story itself, set in New Zealand in a possible near future. People are dying from yet another virus, the earth is struggling and species are disappearing, and society is starting to disintegrate. A group of friends escape for a few days to a holiday home on the coast, telling stories of their pasts, some of which they haven't shared before, before they have to return to their everyday lives and face whatever the future may hold. I loved the writing and use of language, at times poetically beautiful and at others quite gritty, as well as the incorporation of tidbits of fact here and there from medical science, the natural world, popular culture and history. Highly recommended.

[Sandra Arnold · Rating 5 out of 5]

Fiona Farrell’s latest book, The Deck, takes its cue from The Decameron written by Boccaccio in the 1350s. In The Decameron a group of friends escape the plague in Florence to travel to a remote place and there they tell each other their stories. In The Deck a group of friends travel to a modern holiday house in a remote bay to escape a pandemic. In that place they share their stories. Fiona Farrell has an extraordinary imagination and facility with words and the overall result in The Deck is an unputdownable book filled with joy, laughter, sorrow, tragedy, heartache, reunions and secrets. The stories range from the personal to the political, from the beginning of time to its possible end. The ending leaves us with many questions. It stayed in my mind long after I’d finished reading it. Thoroughly recommended.

[Lisa · Rating 4 out of 5]

I am indebted to Karen McMillan from the NZ Review of Books for my discovery of a new favourite author.

The NZ Review is not a blog, so though you can subscribe to a monthly newsletter you can't subscribe to receive new reviews by email the moment that they are published. And the newsletter, of course, covers all sorts of NZ publishing besides what I'm interested in, which is just reviews of NZ novels.  After a friendly exchange about this, Karen undertook to send me a list of the new reviews, and in May I spied The Deck. With a tagline "A New Zealand Decameron for the Covid era."

Now I swore I was not going to read any pandemic fiction at all, because (don't be surprised) I was sick of the pandemic, and very sick of people complaining about it.  But... the Decameron?

This is the blurb:

What is the point of inventing stories when reality eclipses imagination?

A little way off in the future, during a time of plague and profound social collapse, a group of friends escape to a house in the country where they entertain themselves by playing music, eating, drinking and telling stories about their lives. There are tales of thieves and pirates, deaths and a surprise birth, a freak wave and many other stories of misadventure resulting in unexpected felicity.

The Deck borrows the motifs of Giovanni Boccaccio’s 14th-century masterpiece, The Decameron, in which another small group gathered to avoid contagion and passed the time telling stories. But what is the role of fiction, this novel asks, as civilisation falters?

Miracle of miracles, my library actually had it in stock!

The novel operates at many levels, but in the third person, it begins with The Frame : it introduces the novelist, working on her Apple Mac, in Midsummer in a small city on an island in the southern corner of a vast ocean.

Sunlight glints on a harbour and a breeze bellies the curtains at an open window.  An undifferentiated hum of traffic and machinery rises from the city.  Someone is drilling something in the old Edwardian villa next door and across the road the children at the day-care centre are banging away on the xylophone they bring outside on sunny days.  Overlying the hum is a cheerful gamelan bing bang bong.

Beyond the harbour stretches the ocean, bordered as usual at the horizon by the mass of cloud that could be hills or snow-capped mountains.  Air and vapour only but so seemingly solid that Captain Cook, sailing down this coast on his first voyage, detoured many miles to the east over three days in order to satisfy his lieutenant that this was no great continent.  'In search of Mr Gore's imaginary land,' he wrote grumpily in his journal.  He himself was 'very certain we saw only clouds'.

The imaginary land has always been present. (p.12-13)

I was hooked.  From the moment a breeze bellies a curtain to the anecdote about Cook, I knew I was in the hands of an author I wanted to read.

To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2023/06/05/t...

[Katrina · Rating 4 out of 5]

I wasn't expecting to enjoy this book as much as I did. Set in NZ in the pandemic.

[Amy Lund · Rating 2 out of 5]

written really well but just not a book i enjoyed

[Bridget · Rating 5 out of 5]

Fiona Farrell is one of the major talents in writing today in New Zealand, this book proves that she is continuing to produce excellent and interesting works. Not only is this a great story, but it's structure is also incredibly interesting.

This is the story of a group of people waiting out a pandemic in an amazing architecturally designed beach house that is made of separated pods. In the evenings of their isolation, they share stories that connect them and stories of their pasts. The stories give insights into the lives they have shared together and separately. As time goes on and the relationships between the people grow and change we begin to understand what it is that ties them together and also what keeps them apart. Stories of long-ago hurt and loves come to light as well as fantastical experiences. Each of the temporary residents takes a turn to tell their tale while a guitar gently plays the songs of their youth. As their period of isolation draws to a close revelations have an impact on the group and those who may have appeared on the surface to be one thing, are ultimately shown to be something else. There are some fantastic scenes in this book, some of which will stay with me for a long time. This is powerful stuff.

In the pages of this book you can feel the concerns of the author on the state of the planet, the challenges of dealing with constant information from the media and the dangers of constant connection through socials. There is a deep political thread throughout the novel, a heartfelt plea for kindness and for people to pay attention to the needs of others. Overall you feel that the experiences of youth are carried with you throughout your life.

I know Fiona a little bit. She is one of the most glorious people, wise and incredibly smart. This book really feels like her. It feels genuine and thoughtful. I love that she refers to New Zealand's Covid response and compares it to other countries, that she has thought deeply about what it is that differentiated our response from other places. I love that Fiona's life has informed some of these stories and I'm looking forward to talking to her about the book.

[Jennifer (JC-S) · Rating 4 out of 5]

‘The novelist is about to step out onto the unknown ground that is every new book.’

At the beginning, in The Frame, we are introduced to the novelist, who has recently read ‘The Decameron’ and, while contemplating the impact of the 1918 influenza epidemic on those living in the South Pacific, is seeking inspiration for a new book.

While ‘The Deck’ borrows from Boccaccio’s 14th century masterpiece ‘The Decameron’, Ms Farrell moves beyond the stories told to reflect on the role of storytelling in a world in which reality has overtaken imagination. Pandemics (the Black Plague of the 14th century, the Covid-19 pandemic of the 21st century) may have provided the impetus for both ‘The Decameron’ and ‘The Deck’ but neither is about the pandemic. Instead, a small group of people take shelter to avoid contagion and entertain each other by telling stories.

Ani, Baz, Didi, Pete, Philippa and Tom escape from the city and take refuge at a beach house called The Crib, which consists of separate living pods. At first, they enjoy the freedom they have, isolated within nature, able to eat, sing, walk and talk. But after they have exhausted topics such as history and politics, philosophy, best movies and musical icons, discussion becomes more focussed on individual challenges, concerns, and fears. There is nothing like restriction on movement to remind us of how we crave freedom, and a return to ‘normal life’.

And over time, as Ani, Baz, Didi, Pete, Philippa, and Tom pass time by telling stories, borders between what is real or imagined become blurred. How do we move on in such a world, how do we face challenges, how do we adapt to change? How do we make a transition back to reality from fiction?

‘The novelist leaves them there, her paper dolls, walking along their imaginary land.’

This is the first of Ms Farrell’s novels I have read, but it won’t be the last. I am still thinking about reality, about survival, about some of the other questions raised in ‘The Deck’. My thanks to Lisa, whose review led me to this book.

Jennifer Cameron-Smith

[Laurence · Rating 5 out of 5]

The quiet truths and insights into lives lived were written with the deft touch of a writer at the peak of their craft. The individual stories were all so familiar (even if my experiences have been less dramatic than some of the storytellers). I can visualise the bay in which the main actrion takes place oiver 5 days, and the character of Tom the alpha male who was right about everything in his prime and is now fading was horribly familiar.

I wish I shared the optimisim of the author's conclusion:

- We can pause. We can stop. We have a choice. We can impagine another story.
- Maybe a new mode of thinking and being was setting seed among the lockdown and masks and global tallies?

But I fear we are strapped into a handbasket on the fast trackl to hell

[Chas Carroll · Rating 4 out of 5]

I defo didn't know what the Decameron was before being recommended this by someone in a bookshop. Telling that person I'd never heard of Giovanni Boccaccio was quite liberating, as admitting ignorance often is, so we were off to a good start. This is also the first Fiona Farrell I've read, as far as I can remember. It was a beaut read, and compelling in the way the characters' past traumatic events were folded in with a detachment that comes with separation (of time/space/emotion). Reminded me why I love NZ authors. 3.7ish out of 5

[Marg · Rating 4 out of 5]

Startling writing

I'm in the older age group, and though I could recognise the fine writing in the account of the group at the crib, I found it boring and started skipping over sections. My interest was rekindled when the thrust of the plot returned to the protests against the mandates for vaccinations and the very silly attitudes and beliefs that emerged. Much of the writing is 'stream of consciousness ' which tends to rattle on and on at times.

[Sophie Rattanong]

Given that I hated Hamnet, I shouldn't have even attempted The Deck. But it was on my book club list for the year so I thought I'd get a head start. Ha. I made it 10% of the way through. To quote from one of my favourite reviews of Hamnet: "prose so purple that even Prince would think it was too much." This quote sums up how I feel about The Deck. No more Farrell for me.

[Amanda Vaughan · Rating 3 out of 5]

Conceptually clever - I’d heard of the Decameron but didn’t know anything about it - and the plague parallels (and lockdown flashbacks) were initially engaging. Style is very distinctive and underplayed though I found it became a bit tedious and it meant I was skimming a bit when I came to the real escalation at the end. Not sure why they left the crib!

[Helen Cummings · Rating 5 out of 5]

I really enjoyed this book. The way the story was framed, the tales that were told and the secrets that were shared but best of all I really loved Fiona’s descriptive language of the New Zealand I know. Highly recommended!

[Fiona Jay · Rating 5 out of 5]

Part of me is still there in the bay - with its fog, scorching sunshine, delicious food and drinkies. Fiona Farrell's characters are so much more than paper dolls with their scandalous secrets and salacious stories. A cleverly framed Decameron for our times - of war, climate meltdown and pandemic.

[Julie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Lifechanging stories told by a group of friends escaping for a long weekend to an isolated beach as an alternative global virus takes hold. Clever framing with the author's story of writing during Covid lockdown in Aotearoa, of trumpism, and what the future might hold.

[Sue Reidy · Rating 5 out of 5]

An immersive, clever book. A mix of fiction and non-fiction inspired by The Decamaron. Highly recommended.

[Jo · Rating 5 out of 5]

a clever take on The Decameron, and that's a pun in the title. Terrific writing from a treasured NZ writer.

[Leigh · Rating 4 out of 5]

Zoomed through this - couldn't put it down (and had to get it back to the Library!) A novel of a pandemic which, although not mentioned much, creates an air of menace just out of sight.

[Lucy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Gorgeously written, a novel that plays with ideas of relationships, truth and narrative. Thoroughly enjoyed.

[Neil Marshall · Rating 4 out of 5]

What a pleasure to read a wonderfully well written book by a Kiwi author. A modern version of The Decameron, a version for life after Covid.

[Sharon N · Rating 4 out of 5]

Stylish and clever.

[Carol Griffiths · Rating 4 out of 5]

A great story of Covid times. I liked the use of the concept of the Decameron as a story telling device. It was also good to read about a familiar New Zealand setting for the events.

[Judith White · Rating 4 out of 5]

Very thought provoking

[Louis · Rating 2 out of 5]

imagining ruining a perfectly fine story with abject and Facebook post quality musings, i liked the Decameron connection and then quickly hated it when i realised it was worth nothing.

[Clare Sullivan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Remarkable, took a while to read as it made me think on every page. Very clever and insightful.

[Susan Wilson]

I read Canterbury Tales a lifetime ago (in my 20s, so over 30 years) so loved the idea of a similarly styled novel based on traveller’s stories.

For me, the tales were brilliant, and fitting (especially Phillipa and Tom) and added depth and complexity to the relationships they had with each other, particularly the two, then three couples. I was disappointed Zoe wasn’t given a voice beyond 100 characters and the focus on the deer seemed an unlikely scenario to me. I got the point but thought her portrayal was a little dismissive of her generation. I also found Ani’s tale unsettling as left wondered how the car got back and whether something might be uncovered about Leo. Maybe I missed something.

I needed a dictionary a couple of times so am glad to learn a few new words though, other than making it seem historical, why “after divers misadventures, at last attains a goal of unexpected felicity”, particularly given it seems force to fit this with Maria or Zoe or the final tale. On the final tale, I didn’t think taking the virus to blood vomiting or the yacht were necessary. I would have been just as happy if it was Covid, escape to the crib, and Zoe saved from antivaxxers or a protest in Wellington.

All that said, the bits I loved (Day 1 up to Tale 8) were a great read.

[Bridget · Rating 1 out of 5]

Moved so slowly and never could get involved. Book club prescribed. After 200 pages I gave up.

[Philippa · Rating 4 out of 5]

A group of friends and family get together at a remote off-grid bach or crib (not sure where exactly, by the sea, maybe Banks Peninsula?) for several days, with a covid-like plague vaguely in the background or about to happen.
They all tell stories about their lives, looking back at the highlights and sharing some close-kept secrets. The stories are the best part of this Decameron-like novel, I think, and the characters who tell them. And of course Fiona Farrell is a consummate writer so it was a deliciously enjoyable read.
The novel is book-ended by more non-fiction sounding reflections of 'the novelist' and her take on covid and its impacts on society; this was OK but wanted it all to be woven into the fiction, into the characters' thoughts and actions. It seemed like there was a lockdown pending, but then what happened to this when the group of friends were leaving? And what happened to the people on the yacht? Maybe we're meant to be just left to wonder about these things.