The Bone People has been on my shelf for years and I've never had enough curiosity to pick it up. I read it for a book group this month, though, and I'm really glad I waited until now to read it. I'm a better reader these days, more willing to suspend my need for rigid writing styles, more eager to explore stories of other cultures and better able to appreciate the poetry of language, which Hulme does so stunningly well in this book.

It was a tough read, though, for the subject matter. Child abuse, graphically rendered, makes for nightmares and soul sickness for a few days. But it isn't gratuitous violence, it is central to the story of the broken lives of (at least) three individuals.

The story takes place in New Zealand, in the small town of Whangaroa. Keriwen Holmes, part Maori and part European, is a strong, fiercely independent woman who builds herself a tower home with a spiral staircase rising through the center. An unexpected "guest" surprises her one day, a young mute boy named Simon, who comes with a label explaining his disability. He also comes with a foster father (Joe) and a load of complications, including vandalism, thievery, physical violence and a mysterious past.

Hulme's writing style is an interesting mix of stream of consciousness and poetic narrative:

...dear soul, imagine if you could pass all memories, but selectively...keep the sweet things, the first flows of joy at colour and shape and sound (chime of tuis, lichen at Moerangi, rich cadmium yellow on black and red rock; the ratpad ticker of the clock that beat time time time to my guitar; rainbows and storm clouds and dragons of the sunset, and mists set in motion by the breathing of the sea....) - page 289

Hulme does a great job of making a parallel between the destruction of people's lives and souls and the destruction of culture (Maori) and environment, not only causally, but metaphorically. That the three main characters had to practically disintegrate down to the bone to heal and transform is, I think, what is likely to be required of Mother Earth.

I am still struggling with the ending. No spoilers - but could this be a dream sequence? It was just too tidy after the chaos of the rest of the story.

I feel like I've experienced this book rather than just reading it. Hulme is a brilliant writer. ( )

You'll see the word "difficult" in a lot of reviews of this book, and it's fully justified. The major characters are thorny and sometimes horrible people, and the majority of the minor ones are no better; there's really no one to latch onto and feel the book revolve around. There's room for sympathy for all of them, but you'll probably leave the book not really liking any of them.

That being said, I love this book, and it made me a fan of Hulme's work as a whole, in large part because of the other aspect that raises the word "difficult," her writing style. Her prose is stunningly poetic, and perfectly in tune with the deeply mythic thread that brings the story together. That the redemption of the characters -- Joe in particular -- is non-Christian and incomplete has upset a lot of people I've handed this book to, but it seemed only right to me; would happily-ever-after have been even slightly believable? Seen as a story of the destructive forces of anger and emotional isolation, and the healing to be found in surrender and accepting help, I think this book unfolds in a way that's intense, amazing, and uplifting, even as it turns some of the most bleak and painful soil you're ever likely to encounter. ( )

This is definitely an amazing read in terms of language; it's some of the most poetic prose I've ever read, but (at least until the very last section) the showiness of the language doesn't make the story slow at all. The final part seems to come out of nowhere, but it might just needing more than one reading. The abuse is horrifying and like a lot of other readers I found it hard to forgive the characters; but at the same time it is nice to read a book that allows its characters to remain complicated (and cruel) the whole way through. It's also pretty impressive that there isn't much in the way of action in the book; everything that happens takes place between three characters, and the story is just how their relationship changes. The ending seems pretty unrealistic, but within the logic of the book I think it works. ( )

Hulme's work is difficult—both because of her prose style and because of her subject matter. I admired the first quite a lot, but found it difficult to reconcile myself with many aspects of the latter, particularly as the book wore on. The first part of the book was so resolutely realistic that I found the later quasi-magical realistic elements to be a little jarring. I also found myself... well, almost repulsed by the ending. Hulme, I think, wants the reader to have found enough sympathy for Joe to sustain the book's optimistic ending. After the graphic and sustained depiction of child abuse, however, that was impossible for me.

The language is certainly beautiful, and as a story of cultural renewal in a post-colonial landscape, it's intensely powerful. I do not regret having read The Bone People, and there is a lot to take away from it. I just don't know if I will be able to come back to it. ( )

I am having a hard time digesting this book. I was glad I read it after reading a memoir/history of New Zealand so that I understood a bit more of the wonderful folklore and Maori myth woven into this story. I still can't decide, however, if I can accept that a parent who deals repeated, disfiguring, violent abuse can be understood, forgiven, and given a second redeeming chance. Am I being realistic or uncharitable? Am I seeing things only from the point of view of a white, European-descended Pakeha? I found the story beautiful, yet disturbing. Although the ending made sense in the context of the book, outside the author's magical spell, I don't know that I can accept it. ( )