Taranaki Still Inspires Writer

Taranaki still inspires writer 16 October 2006
By JAYNE HULBERT Prolific writer Graeme Lay owes much of his inspiration to growing up in coastal Taranaki.
Lay, who grew up and went to school in Opunake, says even today that if he needs to be inspired, he just drives through the town.
Now living in Auckland, Lay was in New Plymouth on Saturday to speak at the annual Power of Words writers event.
"Opunake was a great place to grow up. It did have a wonderful beach and, like most writers, I have a strong affinity with the sea," Lay said.
He laughed, recalling a friend telling him "you can take the boy out of Opunake, but you can't take Opunake out of the boy".
"Which is a very cruel thing to say but, like most cruel things, is very true."
He said during the winter months, the local library became his domain. "Now I can't go through any small town in New Zealand without finding the library."
Lay has written novels, short stories, children's and travel books and has edited a range of publications.
His latest novel, Alice And Luigi, sees him blend his own genealogy with history and fiction. The book is based on the lives of his paternal great-grandparents.
Lay said delving into the lives of his ancestors began as a genealogy project and ended up as a novel. After finding Luigi's naturalisation certificate, Lay had to invent a life for him.
Luigi is an Italian fisherman who flees his homeland in 1878 after committing a crime. Arriving in New Zealand, he meets Alice. They fall in love and start a family in Makara, on Wellington's south coast.
On Saturday, Lay also shared the story behind the painting that graces the novel's cover.
It is called Babette – a portrait of Alice and Luigi's third daughter, Alicia, painted in 1905 by Frances Hodgkins.
Lay said Hodgkins arrived at Luigi and Alice's home asking for help to carry her equipment to the beach so she could paint Kapiti Island. Luigi offered his 15-year-old daughter Alicia.
"On the beach, the girl's bonnet blows off and all her red hair cascades down, and the artist says, `forget about Kapiti, I want to paint you'."