At only 23, Elizabeth Kuiper has very impressively written her first novel, Little Stones. Drawing upon her experience growing up in the last decades of Mugabe-era Zimbabwe, Kuiper has crafted a story which Readings has called “a portrait, from an explicitly defined perspective, of a country at a moment in its long history.”
Kuiper has also published a short story titled “The Blood Countess”, and is currently studying law in Melbourne, Australia.
Tell us a little about yourself!
I’m a 23-year-old writer living in Melbourne. I grew up in Harare, Zimbabwe, went to high school in Perth and moved to Melbourne for university, where I majored in politics and philosophy. I am currently half-way through my second year of postgrad law at the University of Melbourne.
How much did Little Stones draw on your experiences in Zimbabwe?
In short: quite extensively.
The descriptions of place come from my own observations and memories. I had already started work on the book when I returned to Zim for a holiday in 2017, so I was able to draw upon my childhood as well as my visit home as an adult to create the world of the novel. The characters in Little Stones are inspired by the types of Zimbabweans I’ve met over the years – friends, family members, fleeting acquaintances. No character is a substitute for a real person but each of the characters possess certain behaviours or points of view that I’ve been witness to. Many of the experiences detailed in the novel (waiting in petrol queues, rampant power cuts, robberies) are mirrored in my own life, but they certainly aren’t unique to me either.
Spending such a formative period in a country with a very different way of telling stories must have been really interesting. Can you speak to some of those differences?
Zimbabwe has a really great storytelling culture. Growing up in Harare, I was exposed to a lot of art and culture – to incredible and diverse types of music, dance, theatre, literature. Some of my favourite books are by Zimbabwean authors – NoViolet Bulawayo’s We Need New Names, Petina Gappah’s Rotten Row. I also think it’s really important for me as a white person who grew up in Zim to listen to and read about the various perspectives and lived experiences of black Zimbabweans and to learn from the discussions being had on difficult topics.
How do you balance carving out time to write with studying the JD – it’s a degree known for being pretty full on?
It’s not been easy. I’m not a natural planner, so working on my time-management skills has been pretty essential just to keep my head above water. There was a short but intense period during the summer where I was doing 9-5 paralegal work at Refugee Legal and spending my evenings working on final manuscript edits in preparation for the publication deadline. I suppose it helped that the demands of writing and the law were so different that it often felt like engaging with one was a break from the other. Sometimes, after hours of reading case law and statutes it was a nice reprieve to flex my creative muscles. Similarly, when using the left-side of my brain and expending a lot of effort to create something ‘new’ felt too demanding, it was nice to retreat to the occasional rigidity of legal learning.
Are you a ‘pantser’ or a ‘planner’ when it comes to writing?
I am a ‘pantser’ but looking to work on that in the future. When I began work on Little Stones, I would often get bursts of inspiration that led me to write full scenes or chapters in one go. That was easy and one of those situations where you don’t even feel like you’re writing; like the story is at your fingertips just waiting to be tapped out. The hard part was weaving the vignettes together into a cohesive narrative. I think it’s good to latch onto your creative spark and follow it wherever it may lead, but greater planning will also help better guide it.
I noticed you’ve produced visual art as well. Does that skillset interact with the writing process for you?
I’m not a visual artist by any stretch of the imagination, though I think I know the piece you’re referring to. Unlike some of my writing, I’ve never created art with the expectation that anyone other than myself would see it. It has mainly been a relatively new way to relax and to encourage mindfulness. I submitted the first collage piece I made on a whim to Babyteeth (a literary/arts journal for emerging artists) and that’s really been my first and only foray into visual art. In terms of interacting with the writing process? I’m not entirely sure. At the very least, I find it soothing and therefore it probably places me in a better mental state to be writing.
What’s next for you?
I’m kind of taking it one day at a time. The release of the book has coincided with law school exams (which, as you’ve said, is pretty full on). For me, stress is the enemy of creativity and I can’t say I feel particularly inspired after poring over the Transfer of Land Act 1958 day after day. I hope that when university breaks for the winter holidays I’ll have the space and time to think about the next writing project.
Lastly, do you have any book recommendations for us?
One of my favourite reads this year has been Andrew Sean Greer’s ‘Less’ – the prose was beautiful and the story was incredibly joyous. Definitely a feel-good read. I also just finished J.P. Pomare’s debut, ‘Call Me Evie’, which I would recommend if you’re a fan of psychological suspense novels. It was really gripping, really easy to get into, and I devoured it in a matter of days.
Elizabeth can be found at her website, on Instagram, and on Twitter.
Synopsis
Hannah lives in Zimbabwe during the reign of Robert Mugabe: it’s a country of petrol queues and power cuts, food shortages and government corruption. Yet Hannah is lucky. She can afford to go to school, has never had to skip a meal, and lives in a big house with her mum and their Shona housekeeper. Hannah is wealthy, she is healthy, and she is white. But money can’t always keep you safe.
As the political situation becomes increasingly unstable and tensions within Hannah’s family escalate, her sheltered life is threatened. She is forced to question all that she’s taken for granted, including where she belongs.
