Allen
Curnow was at the forefront of New Zealand literature in his day. He lived from 1911 until
2001. His writing reflected the beauty of the New Zealand landscapes, captured "as if no
one had quite seen New Zealand in the English language until Curnow saw it."
The concise use ofcreates startlingly vivid sights and smells for a boy at a farm. The
sensory images are so intense that the reader can assume that the boy has not grown up on the
farm; had he, the freshness of each assault to his senses would not be as precise, but more and
"every day" occurrence.
The lure that draws the youngster there
that day is the chance to go on an airplane ride as it takes off and lands in one of the farm's
open fields. As one of the pilots asks if the child wants to take a ride, the boy's father is
hesitant, but the boy quietly pleads by pulling at his dad's hand. The fact that he does not
let go of his father's hand may indicate a silent insistence for permission, but may also
reflect the half-fear that is coupled with the excitement the boy feels.
Curnow points out the hold the child has on his father's hand and then compares it to
the hold of the land, so much more physically powerful: the immovable mountains, the sky...all
"in place for ever." Though the boy's experience of flying changes from what
could be, becomes what is, and finally, what
was, the landscape does not change.
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