It is hard to know where to begin praising this little memoir [More Than Enough]. I think it will be read for two important reasons—for its accounts of the many people Sargeson knew well, such as Rex Fairburn and D'Arcy Cresswell, and for its depiction of the growth of Sargeson's art in the inhospitable environment of New Zealand. This second theme is one which could stand for every New Zealand artist's struggle—against frequent ill health (luridly described), undying poverty (a Catch-22 situation, Sargeson having to earn money by writing on a typewriter which was all too often in the pawnshop to earn money) and the friendship of such people as a Cockney named Jock, whose monumental indecisiveness itself became a sort of art form. And above all there was the indifference or enmity of the Right-Thinking Public, nowhere better represented than within his own family…. Out...