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3.95 AVERAGE
3.95 AVERAGE
Sometimes a book makes you think “am I taking crazy pills?” This is that book. A Booker prize, a Pegasus award, and a 4.0 rating.
Was I reading the same book as everyone else?
To clarify you can basically summarize the book with this question; “do you think that an adult man should be able to beat his elementary school aged son into a coma because his emotionally disturbed childhood delinquency is a pain in the ass?” “Do you believe, like every apparent other character in this story, that since he’s really sorry and the kid doesn’t have any other family, that he shouldn’t have had him taken?”
The other elements like the inventive wordplay and interspersing of identity investigation can not make up for the blatant child abuse apologetics that are woven into the text.
I did some research on the text after finishing and found that actually this book is quite divisive, including on the Booker committee the year it won the prize.
Was I reading the same book as everyone else?
To clarify you can basically summarize the book with this question; “do you think that an adult man should be able to beat his elementary school aged son into a coma because his emotionally disturbed childhood delinquency is a pain in the ass?” “Do you believe, like every apparent other character in this story, that since he’s really sorry and the kid doesn’t have any other family, that he shouldn’t have had him taken?”
The other elements like the inventive wordplay and interspersing of identity investigation can not make up for the blatant child abuse apologetics that are woven into the text.
I did some research on the text after finishing and found that actually this book is quite divisive, including on the Booker committee the year it won the prize.
"'If you push him hard enough, he'll fight you to make you understand. It's his last resort, spitting and kicking... he'll do his damndest to punch into you what he wants to say. That's bad, I know, you know,' wagging a finger at the boy, 'but he's still trying to talk to you,' lifting his eyes to Kerewin, 'you know?' - The Bone People, Keri Hulme
Kerewin Holmes - local eccentric and cantankerous artist - has built herself a tower in the New Zealand marsh to live in solitude when a strange, mute boy and his mercurial foster father crash into her isolation and make themselves at home. But Simon and Joe have dark pasts and a troubling relationship, and as Kere comes to care deeply for them both, she is forced to reconcile the trauma and violence simmering in each of them as they become inextricably bound to one another.
(cw: domestic violence, child abuse) This was potentially my most challenging read of 2019, both in prose and in content (please take the content warning to heart if those are difficult topics for you). Written in 1984, Hulme speaks to questions we are publicly grappling with on a difficult scale over 30 years later: when violence permeates a relationship, a family, a society, how do we protect and heal ourselves and others while holding the perpetrators accountable? What if the person hurting us is someone we love deeply? But then she takes it to a place that feels more uncomfortable: If violence seems the only way to communicate some great hurt, can it be translated or entirely avoided? Can or should we forgive those who perpetrate the greatest harm? It's a fine line to walk, and after falling in love with this book and this family in the first 2/3, one horrific moment almost made me put it down to never return. But I did, and I'm glad I did. Hulme acknowledges we live in a world where people do terrible things, and we must decide what is done with those people, who makes that decision, and what healing means.
I also think this book's exploration of (mis)communication is fascinating - rather than the rom com trope of only hearing part of the story, these characters know everything they can about one another; it's just the words and language each uses fundamentally does not connect to meaning for the listener. Simon's inability to speak expands his access to expression both creatively and violently. Kerewin's poetic and metaphorical diatribes never quite speak directly to the point. And when Joe's flowery and sincere declarations of love fail, he substitutes with drink and his fists. This is a violent and sad book about connection and disconnection, forgiveness and healing, and the worst things that can happen to us and how to come back.
Pair with Nothing to See Here (for a lighter hearted story about difficult children) or A Little Life (for an exploration of abuse and trauma) - also consider giving this a read if you wanted to like Where the Crawdads Sing (but didn't)
Kerewin Holmes - local eccentric and cantankerous artist - has built herself a tower in the New Zealand marsh to live in solitude when a strange, mute boy and his mercurial foster father crash into her isolation and make themselves at home. But Simon and Joe have dark pasts and a troubling relationship, and as Kere comes to care deeply for them both, she is forced to reconcile the trauma and violence simmering in each of them as they become inextricably bound to one another.
(cw: domestic violence, child abuse) This was potentially my most challenging read of 2019, both in prose and in content (please take the content warning to heart if those are difficult topics for you). Written in 1984, Hulme speaks to questions we are publicly grappling with on a difficult scale over 30 years later: when violence permeates a relationship, a family, a society, how do we protect and heal ourselves and others while holding the perpetrators accountable? What if the person hurting us is someone we love deeply? But then she takes it to a place that feels more uncomfortable: If violence seems the only way to communicate some great hurt, can it be translated or entirely avoided? Can or should we forgive those who perpetrate the greatest harm? It's a fine line to walk, and after falling in love with this book and this family in the first 2/3, one horrific moment almost made me put it down to never return. But I did, and I'm glad I did. Hulme acknowledges we live in a world where people do terrible things, and we must decide what is done with those people, who makes that decision, and what healing means.
I also think this book's exploration of (mis)communication is fascinating - rather than the rom com trope of only hearing part of the story, these characters know everything they can about one another; it's just the words and language each uses fundamentally does not connect to meaning for the listener. Simon's inability to speak expands his access to expression both creatively and violently. Kerewin's poetic and metaphorical diatribes never quite speak directly to the point. And when Joe's flowery and sincere declarations of love fail, he substitutes with drink and his fists. This is a violent and sad book about connection and disconnection, forgiveness and healing, and the worst things that can happen to us and how to come back.
Pair with Nothing to See Here (for a lighter hearted story about difficult children) or A Little Life (for an exploration of abuse and trauma) - also consider giving this a read if you wanted to like Where the Crawdads Sing (but didn't)
This book (and its characters) is going to stay with me for a long time.
This book is so incredibly impressive. It took me a little while to get through it (I'm not one for slow-paced literature), but the dynamic between Kerewin, Joe and Simon kept pulling me to at least read a little further along.
So did anyone else figure the Kere Holmes/Keri Hulme similarity?
I didn't find the ending as satisfactory as I'd hoped, on the other hand, it did fit the book really well. The addition of Maori made the story so magical for someone like me with no knowledge of the Maori culture.
So did anyone else figure the Kere Holmes/Keri Hulme similarity?
I didn't find the ending as satisfactory as I'd hoped, on the other hand, it did fit the book really well. The addition of Maori made the story so magical for someone like me with no knowledge of the Maori culture.
The writing style is hard to follow. Hulme waxes on way too long about seemingly innocuous and mundane things, as if trying to figure out the story as it’s written. The way the two adult protagonists act so blasé about beating a child is horrific. It is 545 pages of an incomplete story. The adults have not redeemed themselves to earn, what felt like, a happy ending. There are still many questions regarding the child’s past, and his current situation.
The mysticism elements that pop up through out the novel are an interesting addition. The Maori traditions really felt like they could have added more to the story instead of just sprinkled in.
The mysticism elements that pop up through out the novel are an interesting addition. The Maori traditions really felt like they could have added more to the story instead of just sprinkled in.
dark
emotional
reflective
challenging
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Maybe it's because I decided to tackle this 400+ page book in 2 days, but I just felt that there was way too much going on. And while the characters were well developed, they were not at all likable, and I found myself waiting for some redeeming quality to find in any one of them.
challenging
dark
emotional
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
A poetic, beautiful, painful and eye-opening book.
It's anything but your average novel, for the writing style goes beyond just telling a story. Keri Hulme dives right into the thought processes,feelings and motivations of each character. I'll admit, it's a hard book to get into since the writing is often fairly convoluted, but to me this makes the complexity of the characters all the more realistic. After all, even our own thoughts are often hard to discern.
By the end of this novel Kerewin, Simon and Joe are not fictitious literary figures...they were family.
It's anything but your average novel, for the writing style goes beyond just telling a story. Keri Hulme dives right into the thought processes,feelings and motivations of each character. I'll admit, it's a hard book to get into since the writing is often fairly convoluted, but to me this makes the complexity of the characters all the more realistic. After all, even our own thoughts are often hard to discern.
By the end of this novel Kerewin, Simon and Joe are not fictitious literary figures...they were family.