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3.95 AVERAGE
3.95 AVERAGE
dark
emotional
mysterious
sad
medium-paced
Such an interesting read, more unique than anything else I've ever read. I appreciated learning about Maori culture. The characters are an interesting mix of interesting, cruel and depressing. That's said, it's an interesting take on family, community and love.
Really powerful characters. Really compelling writing. Lots of momentum. But I could have done without the last 3-4 chapters + epilogue.
I enjoyed this. The writing style is a bit odd, especially at first, but I really liked the story and characters. I wish I’d found the Maori glossary at the end a bit sooner, but it didn’t really make a difference. The story was very sad, and I’m not sure I buy the happy-ever-after-ending as fitting with the rest of the book, but I did enjoy it.
A really intense lyrical account of a violent love between a father and his son. One of the rare reads that understands domestic violence situations instead of merely pitying the characters. Worth reading for the language alone!
Immediately thought of this book after reading Sydney Bridge Upside Down. There is something stark, brutal, and yet hopeful and beautiful about NZ literature. I love it.
Beautiful, crushing, and lasting. I haven't read it in 12 years, but my memories of it are perfectly vivid. I almost hesitate to re-read it for fear it won't live up to my memory of it.
I really did not expect to be so blown away by this book. I vaguely heard it was supposed to be a pioneer of contemporary New Zealand literature. I can now see how just about all post-1985 NZ fiction refers to Hulme in one way or another. Auē eat your heart out.
Set in on the rugged South Island coast, this story centres around three lost and broken souls, who each come to realise their own lives only make sense with the other two. It's heart-wrenching, bleak, quirky and funny, with moments of excruciating violence and unbelievable tenderness.
It also feels extraordinarily modern, despite its 1980s setting. Hulme has no fear of transgressing rules of what it means to write 'literature'. Seamless but thoughtful weaving of thought, dialogue and narration - Evaristo was 35 years late to the party. The main character's asexuality and the boy's gender/sexual ambivalence is so sensitively unfurled.
To call Hulme's writing poetic would be to do her down. She uses every part of the word and the page to cast her spell. Consciously. From the preface: 'I think the shape of words brings a response from the reader - a tiny, subconscious, unacknowledged but definite response.' I thought this was twaddle until I read chapter 1.
As poetry can draw attention to the extraordinary in the ordinary, Hulme's prose continually surprised and discomforted me. Her story finds strength in her refusal to conform to literary convention. I think this reflects the opportunity for growth her characters discovered when they broke and transcended their self-constructed sets of rules and beliefs about who they are and what life is. Hulme managed to make me reflect on my own life without being in the least didactic.
Hulme conjures such a wonderful sense of place. I will always be transported to the West Coast when I think about this book - the beautiful desolation, but not without hope. It's an acknowledgement of whakapapa and our common origin in Papatuānuku, Hulme's characters' and her own.
Māori mythology is woven through this book in a quiet but persistent way. Dreams and visions and supernatural help all feature. Hanging with a tantalising ambiguity. Let the reader interpret as they may. But what I think made it feel so modern (though this shouldn't be a novelty) was the deep respect for te ao Māori (reo, whenua, tangata) that underpinned every page. Only in recent years has the literary world really esteemed voices from indigenous and minority cultures. All the odds were against 'The Bone People' winning the Booker in 1985 but its merit was undeniable.
I wouldn't call this a page-turner, and the content is often extremely heavy and dismal. But it's the best depiction of the people and place of Aotearoa I've ever read. Exquisite.
Set in on the rugged South Island coast, this story centres around three lost and broken souls, who each come to realise their own lives only make sense with the other two. It's heart-wrenching, bleak, quirky and funny, with moments of excruciating violence and unbelievable tenderness.
It also feels extraordinarily modern, despite its 1980s setting. Hulme has no fear of transgressing rules of what it means to write 'literature'. Seamless but thoughtful weaving of thought, dialogue and narration - Evaristo was 35 years late to the party. The main character's asexuality and the boy's gender/sexual ambivalence is so sensitively unfurled.
To call Hulme's writing poetic would be to do her down. She uses every part of the word and the page to cast her spell. Consciously. From the preface: 'I think the shape of words brings a response from the reader - a tiny, subconscious, unacknowledged but definite response.' I thought this was twaddle until I read chapter 1.
As poetry can draw attention to the extraordinary in the ordinary, Hulme's prose continually surprised and discomforted me. Her story finds strength in her refusal to conform to literary convention. I think this reflects the opportunity for growth her characters discovered when they broke and transcended their self-constructed sets of rules and beliefs about who they are and what life is. Hulme managed to make me reflect on my own life without being in the least didactic.
Hulme conjures such a wonderful sense of place. I will always be transported to the West Coast when I think about this book - the beautiful desolation, but not without hope. It's an acknowledgement of whakapapa and our common origin in Papatuānuku, Hulme's characters' and her own.
Māori mythology is woven through this book in a quiet but persistent way. Dreams and visions and supernatural help all feature. Hanging with a tantalising ambiguity. Let the reader interpret as they may. But what I think made it feel so modern (though this shouldn't be a novelty) was the deep respect for te ao Māori (reo, whenua, tangata) that underpinned every page. Only in recent years has the literary world really esteemed voices from indigenous and minority cultures. All the odds were against 'The Bone People' winning the Booker in 1985 but its merit was undeniable.
I wouldn't call this a page-turner, and the content is often extremely heavy and dismal. But it's the best depiction of the people and place of Aotearoa I've ever read. Exquisite.
At times violent and strange, the story and characters represent the wildness of the NZ landscape. There are multiple ways "to be," and Hulme captures that in a troubled child with a troubled past. Mystical, lyrical, and beautiful. Unique and fresh.
adventurous
emotional
mysterious
reflective
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes