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eilyk97 's review for:
The Bone People
by Keri Hulme
I think this is my favorite book I've read all year. It was devastating and wonderful and a thousand things in between. It made me cry from hollowness and from bright, fizzy, overflowing joy. It was certainly one of the most emotionally complex things I've ever read. Both of the adults had such ugly flaws that you think you would hate them on principle, but there is never a moment when you aren't conscious of the fact that Kerewin and Joe are good people, great even. There's such lovely, intricate creation here.
And Simon, my gentleheart, my sunchild, my unstoppable force, I'll love you forever. God, I'm crying just thinking about him. I'd give him the world.
I loved the magical realism at play, the depth of the point of view, the cultural significance, the vaguely attended to or utterly unanswered mysteries, and the sheer oddity of the form. There's more love in my body than I know what to do with.
...
"What a pity, she thinks, as she drops the bottle at the woodpile's edge, that we humans don't have aesthetically pleasing skeletons. None of the elegance and beauty of your humble mollusc. Just a knobbily serrated jumble, headbone connected to the breastbone etcetera etcetera. On the other hand, maybe just as well... something might decide to start collecting us...."
"I was thinking yesterday, what a waste it all was... I'd worked hard, pakeha fashion, for nearly six years, making money to make a home. And the one thing I never made was a home..."
"And then the terrible bare unbelief. I had no shield for that mood of death. I could not believe so much of me could be cut out so swiftly, leaving only a gaping depth of anguish."
“But hands are sacred things. Touch is personal, fingers of love, feelers of blind eyes, tongues of those who cannot talk…”
And Simon, my gentleheart, my sunchild, my unstoppable force, I'll love you forever. God, I'm crying just thinking about him. I'd give him the world.
I loved the magical realism at play, the depth of the point of view, the cultural significance, the vaguely attended to or utterly unanswered mysteries, and the sheer oddity of the form. There's more love in my body than I know what to do with.
...
"What a pity, she thinks, as she drops the bottle at the woodpile's edge, that we humans don't have aesthetically pleasing skeletons. None of the elegance and beauty of your humble mollusc. Just a knobbily serrated jumble, headbone connected to the breastbone etcetera etcetera. On the other hand, maybe just as well... something might decide to start collecting us...."
"I was thinking yesterday, what a waste it all was... I'd worked hard, pakeha fashion, for nearly six years, making money to make a home. And the one thing I never made was a home..."
"And then the terrible bare unbelief. I had no shield for that mood of death. I could not believe so much of me could be cut out so swiftly, leaving only a gaping depth of anguish."
“But hands are sacred things. Touch is personal, fingers of love, feelers of blind eyes, tongues of those who cannot talk…”