Just an Orange for Christmas by Christine Hunt Daniell


These stories reflect our spirit: a carefully unravelled web of fact and feeling, earthy yarns, shrewd perceptions, tomfoolery, fantasy and faith.

Stories about ourselves.  Who we are. Our backbone.

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When I was a young fellow during the Depression I remember we’d have a pot of honey on the table. I was always wishing that pot would never ever become more than one-quarter empty … It got empty all right.

‘No presents at Christmas, oh no. We got the odd thing: an orange, or a cake of chocolate and a few biscuits.’ – STAN (93)

Stories from the Wairarapa.

When Christine Hunt Daniell sat down with pen and paper and talked with the ‘old-timers’ for this book, her motivation was to preserve more than the bland surface details of regional history. The stories reflect essential New Zealand experience yet expose something universally human. They describe how it felt to live over the past century, how it feels to be near the end of life, how today’s world measures up. Each character is a survivor, recalling often raw or touching personal details.


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