Laura Borrowdale is a writer, editor and teacher from Ōtautahi. Her first collection, Sex, with animals (2020, Dead Bird Books) drew a complaint to the Department of Internal Affairs, and while posters of the provocative title and exquisite art were plastered up and down Karangahape Road, the book was barred from promotion on Facebook. Her second collection, Dead Ends from Tender Press, while unlikely to cause a similar uproar, is no less confronting.

For those of us (still) making our way through the fifth season of Black Mirror (Netflix), Borrowdale’s stories veer into similar territory. Luring us in with something familiar, on the promise of a thrill, with a building sense of unease about something not right we can’t quite place (but must), Borrowdale excels at bringing at first ordinary realities crashing down, one blistering sentence at a time.

Many of the stories feature a domestic focus with a twist: a weekend getaway blurs into its haunting forest surround (In the Dark), tall tales between young brothers of monsters under beds become all too real (The Edge of the Bed), and the terror of children being mean, and mothers and fathers being awful are rich territory for Borrowdale.

‘Lydia’s face matches the cold grey playground with its acres of concrete. She faces me from across the huddle as we rotate like penguins fighting for reprieve from the wind.’ (How My Father Disappeared)

‘’We’re coming, Edward. We’re gonna get you.’ Lucy’s voice was shrill, calling out from behind him, but when he spun around, only the grey bushes waved back.’ (The Bullpit)

‘By the time the kids are in the car, my mother has made it to the doorstep. She watches us silently, her arms crossed. The ghost floats up beside her, denser than ever before, and as I pull away, I can’t tell which is which.’ (Guilt Trip)

Borrowdale commits to the ugly, often selfish and deeply unfair truth at the heart of her speculative and near future stories. Characters are forced to face unexpected circumstances: be it an artist crafting literal fragments of souls to sell works in a market crowded by AI- generated alternatives (Sit Still) or a tomato gardener turned soldier trapped in an authoritarian scheme failing to face the existential threat of climate collapse (Ripe). Women
face unfathomable consequences in seeking divorce (Your Husband and Other Body Parts) or in having freed themselves from their abusers (Ouroboros).

These are hard stories to ‘like’ but on the terms they have set, the parameters of the worlds Borrowdale has conjured, they command respect by needling at uncomfortable questions about what it takes to survive in unforgiving circumstances, the failings of capitalism, the false promise and menace of authoritarianism, and the persistent oppression of women and harm to female bodies under patriarchy.

Many of the stories have previously appeared in New Zealand literary journals, including takahē, Newsroom: Reading Room, Mayhem and Turbine | Kapohau. Brought together, Dead Ends is a beguiling collection about broken promises and the consequences of misplaced hope that will appeal to readers of dark, literary fiction pulsing with psychological tension.

Reviewed by Nat Baker