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I confess. I am a book addict. In my flat I have about 1500 books – give or take a few (they make shifting hard for me). Literature has always been a passion and interest of mine. Recently, I’ve given a lot of thought as to what initially sparked the flame that has led me to do an English degree. The more I ponder, the more I realise there was no initial spark – I’m a natural-born book nerd.

There are two moments that stand out for me, though. I distinctly remember my sister giving me a copy of Animal Farm by George Orwell to read – and I earnestly did so as an 11-year-old. I remember laughing and crying and getting angry at all the points I was supposed to, and then staring grumpily at the book’s rather ironic ending. Most normal kids would have moved on from reading such a book. However, 11-year-old me instead wrote a 500-word review (in a regal italic font, of course), likening the politics of Animal Farm to the politics of New Zealand’s Labour Prime Minister Helen Clark. After past-me outlined the various betrayals of the book, I ended the review with “so all I have to say now is to watch out for changes in the rules and keep an eye on the politics!!” Which, if I’m perfectly honest, is fairly good advice.

My earliest encounter with my love of literature, however, was when I was learning to read, and this is probably the most significant memory I have of my literary history. My mother used to read poetry and nursery rhymes to me as a child, but there was one poem I loved above all others: “The Highwayman” by Alfred Noyes. Initially I would get my mother to read it to me every other night, until she grew tired of reading it and refused. At which point my reaction was something along the lines of “whatever! I don’t need you anyway! I’ll read it myself!” and eventually I got to the point where I could indeed read it myself and mourn the tragic tale on my own.

“The Highwayman” was first published in local Edinburgh zine, Blackwoods Magazine. My little childhood anecdote may be a minor, latter-day example of this, but Scotland’s cultural heritage has long influenced Dunedin’s literary history and the city as a whole.

Right from when Otago was first being planned, there has always been a strong Scottish influence. Otago was initially going to be called New Edinburgh, but Thomas Burns (Robert Burns’ nephew) pushed to have it changed. However, Dunedin still inherited its name from its sister city – Dunedin is the Gaelic word for Edinburgh. There is a common misconception (which I believed up until researching this article) that the Edinburgh map was stuck down on Dunedin’s landscape and then they simply chiselled out the roads regardless of the hills – this is not true. However, it is true that Dunedin’s city plan is highly influenced by Edinburgh, which is why we have so many street names in common. Charles Kettle designed the roads attempting to emulate Edinburgh, without regarding the land’s terrain, and thus we get special little gifts like Baldwin Street. Furthermore, by just looking at the architecture of the churches and old buildings around Dunedin, our Scottish heritage is evident.

Moving on from the physical similarities, there are other aspects of Scotland that is reflected in Dunedin’s layout and planning. The suburbs Waverly and Abbotsford both come from the life and works of the famous Scottish writer Walter Scott. His home was called Abbotsford and one of his novels is titled Waverly. We also have a Robert Burns statue sitting in the city centre, endlessly watching all the drunken shenanigans that students get up to. It’s pretty obvious from all this that the forefathers of Dunedin were big fans of Scotland, and decided to drag as much of it over with them as possible.

According to the Dunedin City Council, the Scottish settlers brought many aspects of their heritage over with them – but, most importantly, they brought us education. First, Otago Boys’ High was set up, then, eight years later, Otago Girls’ High (the sixth secondary school for girls in the world), which was followed, of course, by the first University of New Zealand: the University of Otago. The forefathers of Dunedin clearly wanted an intelligent home with intelligent, critical thinkers. It’s no insignificant point that one of the first departments developed at the University of Otago was Classics and English.

As you can see from the very early beginnings of Dunedin, the city has been designed in such a way that its subsequent rich literary history could almost be said to have been predestined. What better city to write in than a city that has practically been dedicated to literature and academia from the outset?

I had the privilege and delight of speaking to the English department’s Emeritus Professor Lawrence Jones – possibly the most knowledgeable man on the topic of New Zealand literature. Even more luckily, I got to speak to him in his own home, in his study. Stepping into the room I saw straight away this was a man after my own heart – floor to ceiling shelves of books lined all the walls. After introducing myself I didn’t know what to say or where to begin, so I came out with a startled, “You have a lot of books.” He laughed and agreed, and from then on it was smooth sailing. Professor Jones is as friendly as they come and knows so much about New Zealand Literature, and literature in general, that it was easy to let him direct the conversation and impart buckets of knowledge upon me.

It has become quickly apparent to me that Dunedin is riddled with literary history.
As I was chatting with Professor Jones he told me that he actually bought his home from a Baxter cousin and Janet Frame was across the hall from his office while she was the Burns Fellow (I’m seething with jealousy). There are walks and tours around the city where the different haunts and homes of authors, and other aspects of our literary history, are pointed out to enthusiastic tourists. Because New Zealand, let alone Dunedin, is so small, it’s so easy to have this kind of thing happen. So many New Zealand writers have lived here and they’ve all left their marks around the city, covering Dunedin with a thick layer of artistic culture.


One of the main conclusions we came to after our two hour discussion was that the Dunedin writing and literary community was surprisingly supportive. Professor Jones described it as an attitude of “we’re all in this together,” so they may as well help each other out. It’s always been incredibly difficult to make a living as a writer, but even more so in the past. The Robert Burns Fellowship is one way that the Dunedin community supports writers. The Fellowship was one of the first of its kind: a way to spend a year working on writing, while still earning a lecturer’s wages. Due to the role of social status in the past, if you were born in the lower class, there were limited ways to climb the social ladder or ever receive higher education, let alone dedicate time to writing because that was your passion. The Fellowship offers an amazing kind of support for writers throughout New Zealand; which, since 1958, has been very successful in bringing more writing talent into Dunedin, making it more of a literary hub.

According to Professor Jones, there is possibly a great wealth of New Zealand literature from the 19th century that has been buried and is practically impossible to find. Novels and poetry were published in local magazines and collections, but it has become incredibly difficult to track these works down. This, of course, wasn’t helped when Allen Curnow, a poet and journalist, referred to all late 19th century New Zealand poetry as “ghost poetry, as we speak of ghost towns … [they are] husks without a past or a posterity” in his introduction to the Penguin Book of New Zealand Verse. This means that there is, somewhere out there, a pile of New Zealand writing that has been dismissed and lost, including Dunedin works. To me this seems a great shame, knowing that somewhere along the line the writing of many different people has been neglected and forgotten. However, this does continue to reinforce the idea that there is a strong and rich history of literature in Dunedin. Whether we have access to the writing is almost beside the point – it was there and would have continued to have an impact on the people living in Dunedin at the time of being published. Regardless of anything else, the impact of having writing encouraged and published regularly in local magazines would have shown local residents that creativity was an important part of their culture.

There are two Dunedin-born writers who have had a large impact on Dunedin, as well as actively helping to perpetuate the nurturing and supportive literary community. First is the poet Charles Brasch. He was a community-minded, involved, charitable man who set up the literary journal, Landfall, which he edited for 20 years – generating a lot of high quality writing in Dunedin. He was also involved in many different organisations, including the Dunedin Public Library Association, the management committee of the Otago Museum, the Hocken Library Committee, the visual advisory committee of the Arts Advisory Council and he also lectured in Otago’s English department in 1951. Beyond all of this, he helped set up the Robert Burns Fellowship, and gave financial aid to many artists and writers anonymously. A second influential Dunedin poet was James K. Baxter, who published his first book of poetry at 18. He used his poetry as a tool of activism and was involved in university protests as well as being invested in local politics. Later in life he took up the Burns Fellowship and wrote some of his best work while living in Dunedin. He was a highly active community member at grassroots level. Even though Baxter’s life ended at the age of 46, he still had a large impact on the city. Both of these authors gave Dunedin a rich legacy to inspire and encourage other writers and artists.

It’s fairly safe to suggest that literature and writers alike have a strong impact on the way that we view the world. According to a TED Ed video by Jessica Wise, researchers are beginning to gain solid evidence that reading fiction has shaped the way we view society and culture. This is due to fiction’s capability of changing the perspective of the reader. The fact that we get to enter another world or another person’s life and live through their eyes allows readers to experience something totally unique – a different viewpoint, which can develop and change the reader. (Of course, book readers already knew this.) It’s exactly because of this impact that we need English Literature departments. I know it’s a big part of why I chose to study literature. I like to know and understand the social world around me, and books give me an insight into the world that I cannot get from anywhere else. I like to step outside of myself for a while and feel the tragedy of “The Highwayman,” or the injustice of Animal Farm. While my younger self didn’t fully grasp the politics of George Orwell’s classic, it certainly got me seriously thinking about politics for the first time in my life.

Literature definitely has had an impact on Dunedin; it has shaped the attitude of the people living here permanently, as well as the students who reside here during semester. It’s a place where creativity is encouraged, and where it thrives. The Literary Society has developed from the English Department, and has a large, ever expanding Facebook group and fairly regular meetings where people hang out, attend plays and performances, eat pizza and play literature-related board games. The Society is purely there for like-minded (or should I say literature-minded?) students to get to meet and be encouraged by each other. Another gem developed from this is The Scribbler, a zine aimed at “literature enthusiasts,” which works to encourage creative writing in its students. Even when looking at the “Departments” section of the University of Otago website you can see lecturers posting about student achievements and class projects. All of this obviously works towards generating an incredibly supportive atmosphere for their students. As someone who has now attended three different Universities (I’ve travelled a little), I can say that this is not something I have experienced, on the same level, anywhere else.

I know plenty of students who consider themselves writers, or aim to be authors (like myself). After researching the city’s literary history, it’s become clear to me that it’s entirely possible that any or all of these people are going to be successful in their endeavours – especially in such a supportive place like Dunedin. I mean, James K. Baxter was a student at Otago. What’s to stop my classmates from being equally as successful – if not more so in this world where everything is connected like never before?

It’s apparent that while it’s changed over the years, a strong literary history has always been here in Dunedin. There has been a legacy of education and creativity right from the early settlers continuously until today. Professor Jones suggested that there has never been a particular literary boom, a moment where the city suddenly awakened its literary talent – rather that it has been set up and maintained as a hub of literature. I can’t help but think about my own literary history – if I can really call it that – that I can relate back to Dunedin. There was no life-altering moment where, suddenly, literature was a part of me. It just always has been and always will be.

And with all of this taken into account, where else could I, an aspiring writer, want to live? With such a beautiful and supportive legacy here to inspire, as well as encourage me, what more could I want?

Warmer weather, that’s what.