I simply couldn't find any enjoyment in this book. It was overly confusing, filled with pretentious language and ideas that seemed to be thrown together haphazardly. It was a complete and utter mess. From my perspective, it gave the impression that the author was being lazy, perhaps trying to pass herself off as some sort of top-notch literary talent when in reality, the work just didn't hold up. I'm truly baffled as to how so many people could like this book. I also can't fathom how it managed to win the Booker Prize. Maybe this is precisely the reason why I don't pay much attention to literary prizes and never select books based on them.

I believe that a good book should be engaging, well-written, and have a clear and coherent narrative. This one failed on all those counts for me. It's a real disappointment and makes me question the judgment of those who lauded it.

I'll continue to seek out books that speak to me on a deeper level, regardless of any accolades they may or may not have received.

I have read this New Zealand novel several times. Each time, it has an incredibly powerful impact on me. It seems to reach right into my very core, grabbing hold of my guts and wrenching me in a way that makes me feel both extremely bad and yet, at the same time, so very good. It's a unique experience that is difficult to put into words. I often recommend this novel to my friends, not out of any malicious intent, but simply because I know it will touch their hearts and make them cry. There is a strange kind of joy that I feel whenever a reader has to shed tears while reading this book.

2022 update: I have just learned the sad news that Keri Hulme passed away in late December 2021. This has made me want to read this novel again. I know that when I do, I will shed a few tears in her memory. She was a remarkable author, and her work will continue to touch the lives of many readers for years to come.

I simply cannot put my finger on the exact reason why I have such a deep love for this book.

When I initially read it, I didn't truly consider it to be all that special. However, it has remained in my mind with such vividness, while countless lesser books have simply dissipated from my memory.

I believe that the author's descriptions are both understated and yet vivid. I read this book several years ago, and I can still clearly recall the descriptions of the meals that were cooked, as well as the matter-of-fact efficiency that the main character demonstrated in her solitude.

All of the characters in this book are overtly flawed, and the author doesn't simply skip over these flaws to tell a "happily ever after" story about friendship.

Perhaps I loved this book precisely because it is not a fairytale. The characters that you come to love and empathize with are also the ones who drink too much and beat their children, or the ones who steal from you after you've generously given them money.

These are not the heroes that we typically put next to flags or on films, but they still manage to come across the page as lovable. It is truly a very provocative novel.

What a jumbled-up novel this is!

The initial anticipation of a 4-star experience was methodically torn apart by the author herself. The interesting setting and painstakingly crafted imagery all ended up being in vain. Hulme launches her literary clay pigeons only to recklessly shoot each one down from the sky, leaving nothing but shards that no one cares about.

What follows is a rant, so if this kind of review bothers you, feel free to stop reading here.

Broken and wounded people can and do cause terrible harm to themselves and others. It's extremely unpleasant to read about such things, but I do it (now and then) to expand my sensibilities. I won't abandon a book just because it's emotionally challenging. However, we all have our limits, and this one repeatedly tested mine. Take such a story, stretch it out over 550 pages, romanticize the suffering, and constantly make excuses for the hideous abuse on display, and you've definitely lost me. Add to all this the many uneducated and simple characters misusing words like "exemplar" and "fanatacism", and Dr. Sinclair Fayden, the World's Least Convincing Pediatrician, who smokes cigars with his seven-year-old patients and colludes with child abuse victims to "sneak" them back to their abusers. It's easy to understand why Hulme "had been rejected by some of the country's major publishers".

There are aspects of "The Bone People" that made it somewhat interesting and not a complete waste of time. This is a rare international award-winning novel from New Zealand, and the stunning landscape and environment are strongly depicted. Maori language and culture are pervasive throughout. The celebration of coastal living really appealed to me, having been raised by a rugged shore myself. It's always captivating to have outsiders as protagonists, and everyone here is outside of mainstream society. There is also a strong presence of ancient spiritual voices. So much potential!

In terms of characterization, I was most intrigued by Kerewin. There's a lot going on with her. Her numerous flaws, including some very unappealing traits, are believable and well-defined. Given that she's clearly autobiographical might explain her particular strength. In any case, she's well-written. Simon was next, often interesting but also a bit of an avatar and not fully developed. Joe, however, was quite poor in many respects and the least convincing protagonist. In fact, almost every minor character (many of whom appear indirectly and for only a few pages) seemed more credible.

Hulme's attempts to give Joe depth didn't work for me. The information she provides the reader to explain the motivations behind his erratic and destructive behaviors is weak and unconvincing. We're supposed to believe that he's intelligent, perceptive, charming, and willing to do just about anything to bring love back into his life. So why the Jekyll and Hyde transformations triggered by the tiniest of insults? Why the careful depictions of shame and remorse followed by his casual return to obscene violence against a vulnerable child? Why his inability to understand Simon when their behaviors are so similar? When Joe takes center stage after page 400, it became much harder to stay interested in the story. I was ultimately undone by this supposed epiphany after his release from prison: "I know I exacerbated his reckless wounding of himself, but now I am not allowed to give him even shelter...".

Is this the extent of his understanding after a criminal conviction for extreme and chronic child abuse? Aue. He aha tou mate? E whakama ana au ki a koe! I realize we all have contradictory natures, but this is the very opposite of intelligent, perceptive, and charming. It was all just too much and went on for too long.

"The Bone People" is obviously not New Zealand's finest effort in fiction, and I look forward to better reading experiences in the future.

1.5 stars rounded up.

Sheet and apricocks what the berloody hell was that?!

This is one of the weirdest, most evocatively written and engaging books I’ve read in a very long time. The inventiveness of the language is just staggering. For the first third or so, I was completely hooked and thought I’d discovered another all-time favourite. The story is set in New Zealand and follows the life of Kerewin Holmes, a reclusive and wealthy eccentric. She lives in a remote tower on a beach, suffering from artistic block and alcoholism, and is estranged from her family.

Into Kerewin’s life wanders Simon P. Gillayley, a scrawny mute boy who both infuriates and fascinates her. When Simon’s adoptive Maori father Joe arrives to take him back, a special kind of dysfunctional unit forms and Kerewin is drawn in.

Kerewin is one of my favourite female protagonists. She is complex, intelligent and strong in all kinds of ways. What I found most fascinating about her is that she is written without the male gaze, which is rare even among female writers. Her unique way of thinking and speaking added to her charm.

However, I felt like this book was divided into three distinct parts. The beginning was brilliant, fast-paced and full of intrigue. But the middle section was a huge lull, with not much happening. And the end was just truly weird, leaving me a bit confused.

Despite its flaws, there’s an awful lot going on in The Bone People, and it’s all for the better. It would make for an interesting group discussion, although it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. I’ll definitely be recommending it to others.

"But hands are sacred things. Touch is personal, fingers of love, feelers of blind eyes, tongues of those who cannot talk…”


In the foreword, we learn that the book was rejected by all publishers, and I can perhaps see the reason. The book is like a connect-the-dots exercise, except that more dots are continuously added.


I completed the book, yet I didn't fully grasp it. I delved into Maori beliefs and their mythology, obtaining a hazy understanding, but still, it eluded me. Then, I read reviews of this book and realized that even the reviewers didn't completely understand it and were merely making educated guesses. This is asking too much of an engaged reader.


There are recurring themes of violence, redemption, and love, which are difficult to comprehend within today's value system. This experimental book accomplishes quite a lot. I adored the first half and the prose experiments. The sentence structure is unconventional and subliminal.


Kerewin Holmes resides in a tower in Morengi, isolated from the entire world, including her family. When she discovers the wounded Simon Galleyley in her tower one night and then encounters her foster dad Joe, their world transforms into a tribe of three.


The mystery of the mute and difficult child, along with the tough love between Joe and Simon, binds them together. Over the course of many pages of a very distinct type of bonding, we come to understand their individual struggles. Just when things seem to converge, the story takes a different turn after a particular night.


What occurs after that is something I didn't enjoy, but I attempted to respect. There are references to motifs and Maori beliefs that verge on magical realism. It is present, not for your understanding, but rather to call attention to its existence.


It's a challenging read - not something you can wholeheartedly recommend.

This work, which was awarded the Booker Prize in 1985, is truly difficult reading. Those who cannot read vivid descriptions of violence against children are advised to stay away. I think I am tough, but at least I was disturbed and engaged by the description of the triangle relationship between the boy, his adoptive father, and the neighbor. Keri Hulme takes a great deal of time to bring her characters to life through self-reflections, streams of thought, descriptions of actions, and dialogues. Her writing style is very unique and complex, as the four mentioned narrative forms and the narrator can change from sentence to sentence. This requires the reader to have imagination and, above all, complex thinking and a lot of attention when reading. I haven't spent so much reading time on a 650-page book in a long time. This is not something you can read casually.

Simon, the seven-year-old, is a survivor of a shipwreck in New Zealand. His origin is unknown. After the accident, he is raised by Joe, a Maori. Simon doesn't speak, is rebellious, and his anger is almost impossible to stop. Joe punishes him with beatings, but they have no effect on the child's behavior. One day, the boy shows up at Kerewen's place. She is one-eighth Maori and actually doesn't value contact, but she can't get rid of Joe and Simon. All three characters are trapped in their problems and inadequacies. But as broken as they are, they still need support, and they find it again and again in this toxic triangle.

I found this very impressively written, even though especially at the end, the Maori mysticism exceeded my imagination, which led to a deduction of one star. For long stretches, this is a 5-star psychological portrait of people who have lost themselves in the search for themselves and the love of others. Sad, but very worth reading.

Three is the magic number in Keri Hulme's book The Bone People.

Kerewin Holmes, an artist, resides by the sea in an enchanted tower she built. Joe, a Maori man, lives in a house of pain of his own creation. Simon, the lost child in search of a home, these three come together to form a strange family.

They engage in a dance of death and destruction, as well as a battle for the redemption of the human spirit. They make up the family of man or the bone people, brittle and unyielding beings trying to fight the isolation of their souls and find fulfillment in involving with each other. Represented by a woman, the artist Keri, a man, the lost warrior Joe, and the child, Simon, the hope for the future. Can they unite and heal each other or will they cause each other's destruction? That's the question of The Bone People.

Keri Hulme has a gift for words. Her stream-of-consciousness writing is beautiful and captivating. Despite the beauty of her words, the story is harrowing and heart-wrenching. We often hurt those we love the most. The assault on young Simon is both verbally and brutally physical. Are the young resilient by nature or brittle and easily broken? Is the child truly the savior of the man? These are the questions Hulme seems to pose.

Throughout the book, the theme of family recurs. What constitutes a family and what obligations do family members have to each other? The family is a bright promise kept, a joining of human lives and spirits. The members of the bone people are drawn to their own isolation. They have found diverse ways of self-destruction and use them skillfully. The reader travels through the book, simultaneously loving and hating the members of this strange family.

I can't help but recommend this book, but with the caveat that it's quite difficult to read, both in plot and style.

I am not overly enthusiastic about this book.

Although some parts were beautifully written and engaging, in the end, it failed to convince me.

The book delves into difficult issues such as inter-familial violence, child abuse, and alcoholism. Hulme creates a vivid and realistic portrayal, and the characters, including the abusive stepfather, are not one-dimensional.

However, the "Hollywood-ending," where everything becomes hopeful and the abusive father is reformed, didn't seem genuine to me.

Nevertheless, for readers interested in Maori culture, the book might be worthwhile. It offers insights into the Maori way of life, traditions, and values.

Despite my reservations about the ending, the author's writing style and the exploration of complex themes make it an interesting read.

Perhaps others will have a different perspective and find more value in the book than I did.

Overall, it's a book that has its strengths and weaknesses, and it's up to each individual reader to decide whether it's worth their time.

Keri Hulme achieved a remarkable feat in 1985 when she became the first New Zealand woman to win the Man Booker Prize with her debut novel “The Bone People” (German title: “Unter dem Tagmond”). In this work, she masterfully weaves together Maori culture and myths with the harrowing fates of three individuals who encounter each other in a stormy landscape. They draw closer, but dark traumas and inner struggles constantly prevent them from building an unburdened relationship.

Kerewin lives as a recluse in a self-built tower directly on the coast. One day, a mute boy breaks into her place. Simon is already known in the area as he often wanders around when his father is at work. Joe Gillayley took him in after finding him half-dead on the beach following a fierce storm.

All three protagonists thirst for closeness and friendship, yet due to severe disruptions in their pasts, they are almost incapable of developing trust and forming a healthy bond.

The author has created something monumental here that has truly taken my breath away. As we read, we are very close to the individual characters and gain insights into all the doubts and hopes that shake their hearts like unruly waves.

Keri Hulme clearly transfers the broken souls of her characters to the soul of the land, which urgently needs healing and a nourishing connection. Alongside the razor-sharp psychological portraits of Kerewin, Simon, and Joe, this higher level of interpretation is quickly revealed and comes into sharp focus again in the last quarter of the book. It is about renewal, about returning, connecting with the land and the people, and about care. It is about spirals, which are called “Koru” in Maori.

Certainly, it is no coincidence that Simon is of Pakeha descent while his father Joe is of Maori origin. Kerewin has one-eighth Maori blood and quickly grows into the role of the mediator between Joe and Simon. Through many motifs, it becomes clear how communication is difficult and fails. The boy cannot speak and can only communicate through signs and written notes, while words between Joe and Kerewin are often misinterpreted and lead to false conclusions. Due to this communication that fails in many places and the emotional wounds, it seems almost impossible for them to fully engage with each other and open up, despite the will of each individual to form a community.

Keri Hulme has written a masterpiece here that hopefully will find many more readers. For me, it is an absolute life-changing book.

I have read this book an astonishing 11 times.

It's not due to my faulty memory (even though I might have a bit of that), but rather because this is my absolute favorite fiction book of all time.

The shape of this book is highly unusual for a novel. It's not told in a single voice or from a single point of view. At times, there is an omniscient narrator guiding us through the story, while at other moments, it switches to the first person.

It is the captivating story of the journeys of three people as they return to the landscape of their family. The writing style varies, sometimes presented in free verse, sometimes in standard prose, but always with a poetic touch.

Keri Hulme plays with the shape and feel of words themselves, endowing the book with a sensory quality that is not typically found just by reading.

I don't want to reveal too much because I believe that discovering this book is like going on an amazing drive through a beautiful countryside. Just around the next bend, there will be something wonderful waiting, but each person will be struck by different aspects.

For those who don't speak Maori (myself included), she贴心ly includes a handy glossary at the end of the book for the phrases that are occasionally thrown in.

The Bone People, written by Keri Hulme and published in 1984, is a remarkable work of literary fiction set in Aotearoa. The story delves deep into themes such as spirituality, relationships, identity, abuse, love, modern Maori culture, and society. The writing style is simply outstanding, with Hulme's words painting vivid pictures and evoking a wide range of emotions.

The characters in this novel are complex and well-developed. Kerewin, in particular, is one of the most captivating characters I've ever come across. Her struggles and her unwavering hope in the face of adversity make her truly relatable. The plot is equally engaging, filled with twists and turns that keep the reader on the edge of their seat.

One of the most striking aspects of this book is the way it explores the human condition. It doesn't shy away from the harsh realities of life, such as child abuse, alcoholism, and trauma. However, it also offers glimmers of hope and redemption, showing that even in the darkest of times, there is always a chance for a better future.
The New Zealand setting adds another layer of depth to the story. It becomes a character in its own right, with its unique landscapes and cultures influencing the lives of the characters. The philosophical and spiritual discussions in the book are also profound and thought-provoking, making it a truly immersive reading experience.
In conclusion, The Bone People is a masterpiece that I would highly recommend to anyone looking for a deeply moving and intellectually stimulating read. It's a book that will stay with you long after you've turned the last page.

“If I was an honest uncompromising soul, if I wasn’t riddled by this disease called hope, I’d climb into the middle of my pyre and light a phoenixfire from there… On the other hand, my cardinal virtue is hope. Forlorn hope, hope in extremity. Not Christian hope, but an innate rebellion against the inevitable dooms of suffering, death, and despair. A senseless hope… If I hadn’t my hope, I might have lasted ten seconds there… the air is all gone from round it… splendid dragon… the glory of the salamander…”