Well, that really did not come together at all in the end.

First of all, ignore the title as it doesn't mean what you might think it means. This is mainly a drama, with some mystery elements. However, as I suspected quite early on, those mystery elements lead nowhere.

The writing is good, with some flourishes that make it seem really excellent at times. Nevertheless, these elements of style are just that - flourishes. They are little additions, and the foundation of the writing is simply good. It's not one of those authors whose style can make up for substantive problems.

The author, I think purposefully, invokes Joyce near the beginning, but I don't think there's much of a comparison, which may be a relief to some.

There were several plot elements that I found annoying. For example, one character is clearly a version of Sherlock Holmes, but it means nothing.

However, this character does have all the annoying elements of Holmes to deal with. Namely, he's just brilliant at everything, which makes the character feel completely out of place in the landscape and plot.

Maybe that's the point, that it was necessary to construct an out-of-place person, but it still didn't work for me.

The main reason why this and several other plot/character choices didn't land is mainly the ending. If everything had come together at the end, then the journey would have been worth it, no matter how roundabout it felt.

However, it really feels like the author looked at the page count at some point and thought, 'Oh god! That's too many pages, I need to end this NOW!'

The entire last quarter feels messy and rushed, with multiple Deus Ex Machina moments, and the worst kind too - the religious/divine intervention kind. There's even character growth through religious epiphany, which I really hated.

There were moments towards the end when I considered giving it as low as 2 stars, and then others where I felt like I should leave it on a low 4 stars.

I might even have given it the 4 stars, but the plot is all about these disparate elements coming together. So the fact that it feels like nothing really came together properly is an even more annoying failure than if it had happened in a book with a different plot.

I truly relished this at the beginning. It was well-written, and the combination of first and third person was really captivating. I had a great liking for Kerewin. I also thought that the portrayal of broken and flawed individuals was accomplished splendidly.

However, on the flip side, the latter part of the novel is overly long and strays from the rhythm of the first half as it endeavors to lead each of the main characters to a spiritual and then physical resolution.

Finally, there's Simon. Joe is the worst possible parent, and Kere is a dreadfully bad babysitter. Both are alcoholics and are completely okay with Simon doing whatever he wants, including drinking, smoking, and so on. And ultimately, I just cannot overlook the constant and absurdly cruel child abuse. I don't have an issue with unpleasant themes in books, but this was resolved so unsatisfactorily that I now kind of despise the entire book.

So, okay, Ms. Hulme,

I already felt rather suffocated by your novel throughout the book. The story seemed to weigh heavily on me, as if I was trapped in a web of its own making. But you really tried to strangle me with your final chapters. It was like a vice tightening around my neck, making it almost impossible to breathe. I was initially going to rate the novel 3 stars. However, after those last chapters, I will now grant it a mere one star plus another one for the rather picturesque writing throughout the book.

Let me explain. I rather liked the sing-song quality of the narrative. It had a certain rhythm to it that was quite enchanting. And in particular, the inserted little snippets of poetry, contemplations, and lamentations added a touch of beauty and depth to the story. But what I truly hated were the two main characters. They were just utterly unsympathetic. Hulme’s apparent alter ego, Kerewin, has serious character flaws. She feels so elevated from mere humans that she does not want to commit herself in any way. Even when a six-year-old boy, whom she claims to love, is ferociously beaten on several occasions, the last abuse so severe that the boy is within inches of death, she does nothing. She is convinced that the father, her new friend Joe, cares about his adopted son and that should be a sufficient reason to excuse his behavior. For herself, there is no reason to act in a decisive way. Subsequently, at the end of the book, Hulme seems to insist that her readers accept her idea of the redemption and forgiveness of Joe. It feels to me that she forgets that her readers might feel pretty disgusted by both Kerewin’s and Joe’s earlier pathological behavior and are not in the mood to forget what transpired before. To help her doubting readers, she introduces sudden magical occurrences which result in the elevation of Joe to a moral, even saintly, human being. Sorry, what drivel! Needless to say, I was relieved to finish the book.

Review (May 2023)

I vividly remember penning the review below and also recall reading the initial part of the book, yet I failed to finish the second half. I still find Keri Hulme's writing style to be truly original. It makes me wonder if this work is inspired by something she actually witnessed. This time around, I felt that the second half of the book eluded me during my first reading. Kerewin struck me as being rather self-absorbed and somewhat unbelievable. She is a musician/songwriter, an aikido practitioner, can fish and operate a fishing boat, is a painter, built her own tower, and grows her own vegetables, among other things. Joe didn't manage to win me over this time, and I read elsewhere that he represents violence. Simon, being full Pakeha/white, is supposed to symbolize the West. He has a penchant for stealing and loves Kerewin and Joe despite everything. Kerewin seems to stand in between and is perhaps trying to fix everything. Like most post-colonial literature, this book delves into the loss of indigenous culture due to Western encroachment, along with the struggle and tragedy involved. There are numerous Maori symbols in the book, but unfortunately, I understood only a fraction of them. I grasp that the author aims to convey the significance of family and connections, but I sense that there are other aspects that I'm still missing. The ending felt hasty. I'm still unsure about Simon's origin, how Joe changed, and precisely what Kerewin did. As a result, my rating has decreased.

Review (July 2012)

Simply breathtaking. Heartbreaking. Outstanding.

This book, along with Moloka'i, are by far my two favorite books of 2012. When I first began reading this book, I was astounded by the originality of the writing. After 70 pages, I finally got into the rhythm, but I decided to start the book anew from the beginning. Keri Hulme writes exquisitely. The characters came to life so vividly, and I adored how she incorporated Maori sentences here and there. She made me perceive the beauty in preserving our heritage and environment. I admire Kerewin's self-sufficiency: she plants her own vegetables and goes fishing (although she did have a head start, not everyone wins the lottery and is granted a plot of land by the government). I wonder to what extent Kerewin is a reflection of Keri Hulme. And if the story is based on an event that Keri experienced. The story is heartbreaking as it deals with child abuse.

I was initially prepared for a distinct kind of book. As it evolved into the concept of three of life's "misfits" forging a symbiotic relationship, I started to formulate an idea of where it might be leading. Oh, how stupid of me! I should have simply read it instead of attempting to anticipate. Because this truly veered in other directions towards a different ending, not so "Hollywoodish." To be honest, I truly enjoyed it more just by allowing the story to unfold.

There are no miraculous cures for life or love in this book. You receive the cards that life deals you and simply play them, enduring a great deal from people while you determine how much you truly love them and what that love is worth. I adored this book for not having facile answers or sometimes not answering at all. For another book from New Zealand that also addressed Maoris and the absence of easy answers, I would recommend "Other Halves" by Sue McCauley. (Apparently, I am one of the few people on Good Reads to have read it, which is a pity.)

I am soooo confused about how to review this book. It is a very difficult read, not only in terms of its narrative structure but also some elements of the content. However, it is incredibly unusual. The book is lyrically written, with a jarring structure that somehow manages to beautifully portray how painful loving other humans can be.

Nevertheless, it is slightly too long for my taste. It seems to have lost its way two thirds in. As a result, I can't give it 4 stars. I struggle to decide whether the unique aspects of the book outweigh its flaws. On one hand, the beautiful portrayal of love and its pain is truly captivating. On the other hand, the overly long length and the meandering plot in the latter part of the book make it a bit of a slog to get through.

Overall, this book is a complex and challenging read that will likely divide readers. Some will be enthralled by its unique style and powerful themes, while others will be put off by its difficulties. I'm still not sure where I stand, but I do know that it's a book that will stay with me for a long time.

Booker Prize Winner 1985

I will be brief as it has been two months since I completed this one. "The Bone People" is a novel that polarizes readers. Some adore it, while others loathe it.

First and foremost, the writing style is highly distinctive. It combines elements of poetry in prose, third-person narration, and first-person points of view (POV) of different characters. The POV and writing style can shift from one sentence to the next, giving the novel an air of surreality. However, this can also be frustrating as it's not always easy to figure out what's happening.



Another reason it may not appeal to many is its treatment of child abuse. The novel features three main characters: a peculiar lady modeled after the author, a widower who discovers and adopts a young mute boy, and the child himself. It becomes evident early on that the child endured abuse even before being found, with no memory, on a beach after his boat capsized. Moreover, he is also abused by his adoptive father. An important aspect of the novel explores the father's struggle between guilt and the impulse for violence, the child's trauma, and the woman's debate over the acceptability of this behavior.



Although the novel was difficult to digest, I recognized its literary value and do not regret reading it.

This amazing novel has been described by readers in a variety of ways. Some say it's difficult, unusual, and strange, while others claim it's impossible to read. However, there are also those who consider it their all-time favorite, finding it impressive and beautiful. It won the prestigious Booker Prize in 1985 and was reprinted as part of the Penguin Ink Series in 2010.

The three main characters are a woman, a man, and a child, each ruined by loss in their own unique ways. Kerewin Holmes, an artist who has lost her ability to paint, lives in a tower she built on the New Zealand Sea. Estranged from her Maori-European family, she turns to alcohol to numb her despair. Despite her self-destruction, I found her both sympathetic and intriguing.

Kerewin's isolated existence is disrupted by a mute and troubled child, Simon, who manages to worm his way into her heart. I believe she sees a part of herself in him. Although he can't speak, he is intelligent, wily, and desperate for affection, yet also untrustworthy and out of control.

Then there's Joe, Simon's foster father, another Maori-European mix. Surrounded by his Maori extended family, he has a complex relationship with Simon, having lost his own beloved wife and child. His personal flaws lead him to physically abuse the boy.

The story of these three is a sometimes unwieldy blend of love, cultural confusion, and mystery. The excessive alcoholic consumption and emotional devastation are juxtaposed with achingly beautiful and poetic descriptions, creating a unique exploration of New Zealand life.

As I read about how these characters deal with their troubles and hopes, I became deeply involved with them, just like with the people in my own life. Despite the grim scenes of cruelty and abuse, I found myself hoping for their humanity to prevail over their demons.

The very elements that make The Bone People difficult to read, such as the poetic writing, the horrors, and the convoluted plot, are what make it truly amazing and beautiful. It balances the hope of human resilience with the perils, especially in a culture where ancient values are being eroded by Western views.

The author presents all of this with compassion and even humor, making me reflect on the vast amount of wisdom mankind has lost in our pursuit of power. I feel privileged to have read The Bone People.

Set in the beautiful and wild New Zealand, specifically on the west coast of the South Island, this novel presents a captivating yet complex tale of the bonding and unraveling among three deeply damaged individuals.

Kerewin, a talented mixed race (Māori-European) artist, has chosen a life of isolation as she immerses herself in her art, having become estranged from her family.

Simon, a young white child, has been left mute by the tragic loss of his parents in a shipwreck that he miraculously survived.

Joe, Simon's Māori stepfather, is still mourning the heart-wrenching loss of his wife and child to illness.

Both Joe and Kerewin struggle with alcohol addiction, and unfortunately, this has a profound impact on young Simon, who begins to imitate their behavior.

Simon also exhibits behavioral issues, which Joe often punishes severely.

The narrative of this novel is rich with elements of Māori spirituality and mythology, adding a unique and enchanting layer to the story.

The author, Hulme, employs inventive prose, skillfully blending English with words and phrases from the Māori language, and even provides a glossary for readers.

She experiments with form, incorporating dreams, poetry, and stream-of-consciousness, creating a narrative that is both engaging and thought-provoking.

Her writing effortlessly shifts between lyrically descriptive passages that paint a vivid picture of the setting and characters, and stark, unflinching portrayals of the cruelty and violence that exist within the story.

The theme of child abuse is deeply disturbing and should be a consideration for readers before picking up this book.

While I admire this novel as a work of literature, the content is not always easy to "enjoy" due to its raw and often painful subject matter.

Nevertheless, it is a powerful and memorable piece of writing that offers a unique perspective on the human condition.

3.5* rounded down. This is the third time I have embarked on this book.

While I'm not entirely certain that I would wholeheartedly recommend it to others, I am indeed glad that I have finally managed to cross it off my list.

This book is a truly traumatic read, yet it is also delightfully quirky, poetically enchanting, vividly descriptive, and captivating due to its beautiful language and detailed portrayals.

As the author writes, "Betelgeuse, Achenar. Orion. Aquila. Centre the Cross and you have a steady compass.
But there's no compass for my disoriented soul, only ever-beckoning ghostlights.
In the one sure direction, to the one sure end.”

These words paint a vivid picture in the reader's mind and add to the overall allure of the book.

Despite its challenges, it has a certain charm that keeps the reader engaged from beginning to end.

Perhaps it's not for everyone, but for those who are willing to take the plunge, it can be a rewarding experience.

This is a book that poses challenges in every aspect when it comes to reviewing.

The first hurdle is immediately obvious. The structure is loose, almost a free-form stream of consciousness, with snippets of poetry, prose, and song interspersed throughout. There are events whose boundaries remain模糊不清, not only due to mystical or spiritual digressions but also the basics such as what is happening, who is speaking, and what it all means.

The characters all serve as allegorical representatives of the struggle between the Maori and European colonizers, who must coexist in the same space without sacrificing their sense of identity. Western culture stands in sharp contrast to the world of the Maori. For them, the spiral (reminiscent of the Milky Way) is sacred, as are the constellations. The sea speaks to those who know how to listen, and everything in nature has its own unique music. Their lyrical and poetic ways bring their elemental nature into balance.

The atmospheric mood of the narrative is unsettled, dangerous, and often violently disturbing. Several crucial "Aha!" moments are never directly stated or revealed. On one level, I think this is a misstep by the author. However, the author consciously allows the reader to draw their own conclusions based on flashes of memory and momentary clues. None of the summaries I've read directly address the identity of Simon's biological father, how Simon came to be on the boat, or the rift between Kerewin and her relatives.

I believe I've解开了 the first two mysteries, but the third remains at best模糊不清. I found the ending a bit牵强, but there are many paths to redemption, and perhaps, under the right circumstances and with spiritual intervention, they converge.

An outlier simply cannot tolerate a brief and terse review. However, let me make an attempt. Consider Keri Hulme's novel, "The Bone People", which won the Booker Prize in 1985.

Set in vibrant New Zealand, it is a love story that unfolds between three unrelated individuals: a woman, a child, and a man. It is a mystery that is infused with Maori myths, saturated with the Maori language, and suspended between poetry and prose. Written in an unconventional manner, yet with an effusive and effortless display of erudition.

The emotional journey can be described as one of explosive disbelief, followed by a heartwarming realization. It shows that not all conventional wisdom is reliable, not all differences are insurmountable, and that there is hope for human beings, regardless of how we are formed and then brought together.

Nevertheless, there is a great deal of latitude for interpretation.

"Eccentric" is the word that comes to mind when describing this novel. Moreover, the female protagonist, Kerewin Holmes, is eccentric to the very core. Her character alone would have been sufficient to carry any novel, not to mention when combined with the cruel mystery, the love story, and the two other main characters who bring their own depth.

This book is truly unique, both in style and in substance. It is unconventional and is suitable for all those who are, or wish to be, open-minded.