The Bone People by Keri Hulme

I was in a bookshop this week and saw a display of the shortlisted books nominated for the Women’s Prize for Fiction, formerly the Orange Prize established in 1996 for female writers.  It sadly reminded me that I am still yet to read Hilary Mantel’s ‘Bring Up The Bodies’ and whether it was going to win yet another accolade, but also made me wonder whether in 2013 we still needed a prize purely for women.  A quick internet search proves that I am obviously not the first person to wonder about the controversy of limiting a writing prize purely due to gender.  However, as with many equality issues, although initially one thinks that sexism is a thing of the past, it often turns out that equality is unfortunately not as ubiquitous as we would wish.  Should there be a Men’s Prize for Fiction as well?  Very crudely, it is perhaps interesting to note that amongst the Booker Prize winners since 1969 the ratio of male to female writers is approximately 2:1.

One of those female writers was Keri Hulme who takes us to her native New Zealand in the 1985 winner.  Apparently Hulme had well publicized difficulties getting this book published without it being edited.  And although it did ramble into the realms of magic realism, I did not find myself itching to edit as I have been wont to do while reading other Bookers.  Somehow the flights into fantasy were more palatable as it felt like delving into Maori myths and was basically grounded by an engaging story.

Kerewin, a creatively blocked artist who has become estranged from her family and voluntarily isolates herself from society, is visited by a boy Simon, who is mute and since being washed ashore in a shipwreck has been unofficially adopted by Joe.  The story is centred around these three protagonists as Joe and Simon become part of Kerewin’s life although she discovers that Joe struggles to control Simon’s behaviour and when drunk, savagely reprimands him.  Through the narrative of the developing relationships, it manages to deal quite sensitively with the complex web of emotions involved between many of characters.  If not explaining away their actions, it explores the circumstances and events which have shaped them.

Reflecting on this novel makes me wonder why I didn’t dislike it more as Simon was inherently quite exasperating and due to inclusion of Maori phrases, the reader is compelled to consult the glossary.  However, I did like the way that the back stories of the characters were slowly revealed in a seemingly natural way, gradually unfolding through what they chose to discuss and the way in which Hulme conveyed their thoughts as well as the spoken word.  This gave interesting multi-focal perspectives on events, particularly useful in the case of Simon who couldn’t speak.

So basically, be prepared for rambling prose with a sometimes confusing and repetitive and random plot but which somehow, just about, gets away with it.