Fire

Deborah Challinor

HarperCollins

Otago Daily Times, May 19th 2007

In the ’40s and ’50s our country was still small enough that an event such as the Ballantynes fire touched everyone. This fire provided the spark for Deborah Challinor’s latest novel, Fire. The lead up to Christmas 1953 is a time of national excitement as the country prepares for a royal visit, and the staff of Dunbar and Jones are rushed off their feet catering for the cream of Auckland society. Allie, Louise, Irene and Daisy are proud to be employed by such an exclusive store, although each has a personal life that would shock their wealthy patrons: Allie is walking out with a Māori boy, Louise leaves her young daughter with her parents so she can work, Daisy is desperate to hold her wedding before the pregnancy begins to show, and Irene enlivens a boring marriage by dallying with a fellow employee.

Their stories comprise the first half of the novel, and paint a sepia portrait of a small town society that is only shyly peeking out of the Empire’s shadow. The real character is the store itself, a family firm with a history and identity transformed over several generations from a humble millinery store to the last word in upper class sophistication.

Then, on Monday, December 21, the smell of smoke drifts upwards from the basement and into the crowded store. And at this point, the novel itself ignites. After a slow start, Challinor’s description of the fire and the desperate attempts by those trapped on the upper floors to escape are compulsive reading, and from this point on I was hooked.