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miemonti 's review for:
The Bone People
by Keri Hulme
I came across ‘The Bone People’ when looking for an evocative book and to that end, it met all my expectations: the novel offers poetic descriptions of the New Zealand coastline and Maori myth and legend. However, the overly defensive preface and the many character flaws of Hulme’s apparent alter ego, Kerewin, made the first hundred or so pages an exercise of determination…
As for the story itself, despite the cliché-ridden prose and complex narration it is a gripping read exploring the themes of abuse and trauma. Overall, the narrative is divided into three parts: the initial unhappy isolation state (Kerewin- the secluded hermit; Joe- the grieving drunk and Simon- the traumatized mute) moving into a period of turmoil that holds the promise of harmony of a shared life. During this process of transition, the characters share their backgrounds in search of mutual redemption. In this manner, the characters gain more dimensions for the reader: Kerewin lives secluded due to a fall out with her family, Simon has serious maladaptation issues and Joe, grappling with the loss of this wife and child, has taken to beating him regularly. In one such event, Simon comes close to death. This occurrence disperses the characters and the possibility of them forming a family seems lost forever. Indeed, only by undergoing a kind of ritual purification are they able to find the self-knowledge that will enable them to accept each other’s love. However, this catharsis is an underwhelming end to grappling story of abuse, in which the reader is expected to forgive and forget the damage done with some vague (and slightly absurd) mysticism.
Overall, this is the biggest flaw in the novel: its great success at chronicling the complicated relationships that develop among three outcasts is diluted by excessive inclusions of weird dreams, bizarre talismans and symbolic events. Hulme has an excellent understanding of ambivalent emotions- specifically about the coexistence of two contrary emotions at the same time- and ability to portray this anomalous state of mind through both action and (internal) monologues. But she also sins of lack of selectivity in her writing and as a reader, I often found myself tired of so much unnecessary strangeness.
Nevertheless, I would recommend this book (mainly for its scenic accomplishments) but it does require a reader that is patient with the author’s idiosyncrasies.
As for the story itself, despite the cliché-ridden prose and complex narration it is a gripping read exploring the themes of abuse and trauma. Overall, the narrative is divided into three parts: the initial unhappy isolation state (Kerewin- the secluded hermit; Joe- the grieving drunk and Simon- the traumatized mute) moving into a period of turmoil that holds the promise of harmony of a shared life. During this process of transition, the characters share their backgrounds in search of mutual redemption. In this manner, the characters gain more dimensions for the reader: Kerewin lives secluded due to a fall out with her family, Simon has serious maladaptation issues and Joe, grappling with the loss of this wife and child, has taken to beating him regularly. In one such event, Simon comes close to death. This occurrence disperses the characters and the possibility of them forming a family seems lost forever. Indeed, only by undergoing a kind of ritual purification are they able to find the self-knowledge that will enable them to accept each other’s love. However, this catharsis is an underwhelming end to grappling story of abuse, in which the reader is expected to forgive and forget the damage done with some vague (and slightly absurd) mysticism.
Overall, this is the biggest flaw in the novel: its great success at chronicling the complicated relationships that develop among three outcasts is diluted by excessive inclusions of weird dreams, bizarre talismans and symbolic events. Hulme has an excellent understanding of ambivalent emotions- specifically about the coexistence of two contrary emotions at the same time- and ability to portray this anomalous state of mind through both action and (internal) monologues. But she also sins of lack of selectivity in her writing and as a reader, I often found myself tired of so much unnecessary strangeness.
Nevertheless, I would recommend this book (mainly for its scenic accomplishments) but it does require a reader that is patient with the author’s idiosyncrasies.