Wulf

Wulf picked up the NZ Society of Authors Best First Book award this year, and it really is something different from a standard NZ historical novel, more CK Stead than Maurice Shadbolt. My only quibble is biological anachronism: it mentions moa stories and giant eagle bones years before they were actually unearthed, and describes pohutakawa flowering along the Kapiti coast when their normal range is north of Kawhia.

What an astonishing book this is, a gem from the black trees and green hills of New Zealand. The writing is somewhat Katherine Mansfield -, subtle and occasionally elegant; while the story line is shades of the nightmare world of Janet Frame. The sheer brutality and nastiness of the characters - both Maori and pakeha - leaves a frisson of shivers down the spine as events draw to their inevitable conclusion. The prose style can be overblown, but overall this is a work full of high promise.

Early in the 19th century Te Rop'raha (Te Rauparaha) leads his people in a forced migration down into the Southern area of the North Island of New Zealand. And eventually the opportunity to take the strategically located, and much coveted, Kopitee (Kapiti) Island presents itself. From Kapiti Island Te Rauparaha and his warriors are able to launch attack after attack on the surrounding tribes, until finally Te Rauparaha and the Ngati Toa tribe hold the entire lower North Island and Te Rauparaha has earned the epithet 'Napoleon of the South Pacific'.

It is through the eyes of the English traders who come to trade with Te Rauparaha, most of them on their first trip to New Zealand, that we watch these events unfold.

Strictly speaking Wulf is show more historical fiction, but it's so much more than that and almost defies classification. The narrative is firmly grounded in New Zealand history, but Clayton's writing is poetic and lyrical, using layered metaphors to construct rich, evocative imagery that creates a strong sense of place and time. Clayton's Te Rauparaha is embued with an almost mystical quality that seems to match the mana (prestige, authority, stature) he earned and fear he inspired. The whole book has an otherworldly quality to it, much of which is due to the descriptions of the land which is starkly contrasted with the brutal reality of the inter-tribal Musket Wars.

While I wasn't particularly gripped by the story or characters, this was just such a beautiful book to read. Wulf is not an easy read; because of the complex poetic and metaphorical language there were a few passages I had to go back over to be sure I understood. But this is the kind of book I will happily reread, and I'm sure I'll find something new in it each time.

Clayton spells the Maori names phonetically, a reflection of the English traders' early struggles to interpret and pronouce the Maori language perhaps. And on that level it makes sense, but the spelling of 'Kopitee' irritated me at every mention because, phonetically, the spelling doesn't make sense. I was also slightly uncomfortable with the level of cannibalism hinted at. I may be being naive, and it is a contentious issue, but I thought it was perhaps a little too prevalent in the story compared with (my understanding of) the reality - although Clayton does address this in his author's notes. But these two things are the only quibbles I had, and are minor at that.

I've never read another book like Wulf, and I suspect it will be a long time before another like it comes along. show less