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nightlungs's review against another edition
4.0
A deft tapestry that invokes sun-bleached slopes and carnivorous appetites and alienation and eerie miles of uniform bleating and the rumbling languor of summer in nz. Adored One Whale Singing, and the dull golden glint of blank fish-stares that proliferated in piles across the collection. So much i didn't quite understand. I feel that as I age and become more comfortable with the intricacies of te ao Māori, Hulme and her work will be revisited, frequently and fondly.
mnboyer's review against another edition
3.0
Te Kaihau is a group of short stories, prose, and poems by author Keri Hulme, who is probably best known for [b:The Bone People|460635|The Bone People|Keri Hulme|https://d2arxad8u2l0g7.cloudfront.net/books/1348988500s/460635.jpg|1294681]. First and foremost, this is nothing like The Bone People and it would be unwise to pick this group of stories up and expect the same thing. The writing here is mostly experimental. Often times there are under-developed thoughts, sentence fragments, moments where things are unclear, and it is often impossible to fully engage with or connect to the characters. Although it is a medium sized collection (234-ish pages), I also believe that most readers may only like three or four of the stories it contains. And that isn't a problem because I feel as if the text is asking readers to think and form opinions, which can include disliking some of what is written.
I particularly enjoyed "One Whale, Singing" due to its discussion of science versus art, as well as some of its commentary and thoughts on humanity. It also seemed to fit in with Maori themes that I have seen in other readers because the whale is so linked with the Maori cosmology. While a shorter piece, it is one that I find to be a stand out from the group.
"While My Guitar Gently Sings" was not one of my 'favorite' pieces but was one of the pieces that offered a lot of cultural insight--includes health issues, taboos, a sense of Maori tradition, a strong connection to place and identity, as well as presented some insights into how a person may/may not feel a part of a community.
The titular story "The Windeater" was also interesting. I think I will leave you with one of the last lines:
I particularly enjoyed "One Whale, Singing" due to its discussion of science versus art, as well as some of its commentary and thoughts on humanity. It also seemed to fit in with Maori themes that I have seen in other readers because the whale is so linked with the Maori cosmology. While a shorter piece, it is one that I find to be a stand out from the group.
"While My Guitar Gently Sings" was not one of my 'favorite' pieces but was one of the pieces that offered a lot of cultural insight--includes health issues, taboos, a sense of Maori tradition, a strong connection to place and identity, as well as presented some insights into how a person may/may not feel a part of a community.
The titular story "The Windeater" was also interesting. I think I will leave you with one of the last lines:
It all depends
on what story
you hear
nicolaanaru's review
I’m saving Keri Hulme’s [Kāi Tahu (Kāti Rakiamoa, Kāi Te Ruahikihiki), Kāti Māmoe] The Bone People as my last book to read this year; and this collection is a good way to explore Hulme’s prose beforehand. Te Kaihau is a collection of twenty short stories, which I found to be quite inventive - A Tally of the Souls of Sheep reads like a play, while Tara and A Window Drunken in the Rain are more poem than narrative. The one story I had read before - Hooks and Feelers - remains as disconcerting this time around as before.
daledaledale's review
dark
emotional
funny
mysterious
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
3.5
book_darner's review
adventurous
dark
emotional
lighthearted
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
metta_mercedes's review
challenging
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? N/A
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.0
ceallaighsbooks's review
challenging
dark
emotional
funny
hopeful
mysterious
reflective
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? N/A
- Strong character development? N/A
- Loveable characters? N/A
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? N/A
5.0
“When I open my eyes, having rested a little in the cool of this cave, I see there are swarms of mussels on the wall. Crusts of them, blueback and shiny as though varnished. There is the occasional stranger mussel in their midst, pale green, like a wraith of a mussel. Pallid, obvious, vulnerable. There is never another palegreen mussel closeby for company. The different, the abnormal, the alien, the malformed. Who—or what—selects a person for the torment of difference?” — from “Kiteflying Party at Doctors’ Point”
TITLE—Te Kaihau The Windeater
AUTHOR—Keri Hulme
PUBLISHED—1986
GENRE—poetry & literary fiction; “experimental” writing styles
SETTING—Aotearoa, mostly
MAIN THEMES/SUBJECTS—Maori life/identity/culture/mythology, Aotearoa, neurodivergency, Nature, stories and storytelling
WRITING STYLE—⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
CHARACTERS—⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
PLOT—⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
BONUS ELEMENT/S—This was the *perfect* summer read.
PHILOSOPHY—⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
“But how do they know? she asks herself. About the passing on of knowledge among other species? They may do it in ways beyond our capacity to understand… that we are the only ones to make artefacts I’ll grant you, but that’s because us needy little adapts have such pathetic bodies, and no especial ecological niche. So hooks and hoes, and steel things that gouge and slay, we produce in plenty. And build a wasteland of drear ungainly hovels to shelter our vulnerable hides.” — from “One Whale, Singing”
This collection is an incredible compilation of poems and short stories that push the boundaries of style and structure in modern fiction. There was not a single piece that I didn’t enjoy or that didn’t make me think deeply about some topic or another from artistic expression to poverty to mythological realities to the sanctity of Nature. There were stories about shipwrecks and cicadas, love and mental illness, ghoulish fairy tales and murder mysteries, from “Kaibutsu-San”, which reads like a dark, creepy folktale, to “King Bait”, which reads like a modern mythology story, every piece in this book felt like something I was always meant to read.
I especially loved "One Whale, Singing", which is a tale about the primacy and sanctity of Nature and one of the most if not the most beautifully written story I’ve ever read. It also had a bit of a The Yellow Wallpaper feel to it too so that was a cool touch. I also *really* resonated with "Kiteflying Party at Doctors’ Point". And "The Cicadas of Summer". ❤️
It is clear that there are multiple layers of meaning, mythology, history, and philosophy in all of these stories—they are not to be dug easily out on a single reading, but that’s ok because I think this is going to be a yearly reread tradition for me anyway—it’s *perfect* for summertime reading too!
Side note: I’m not 100% sure what ppl mean exactly when they say something is written in an “experimental style” but I’ve now seen that comment made about a BUNCH of my favorite authors (Keri Hulme, Helen Oyeyemi, and Scarlett Thomas) so I guess that’s my thing. Experimental writing styles. 😂🤷🏻♀️
“I don’t like thinking that today is the high crest of humanity; tomorrow, we all fall down.” — from “Te Kaihau The Windeater”
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
TW // [Please feel free to message me privately to ask about specifics regarding any of these or other TWs in this book!] suicide, animal death, poverty, car accident, alcoholism
Further Reading—
- The Bone People, by Keri Hulme
- Freshwater, by Akwaeke Emezi
- The Business of Fancydancing, by Sherman Alexie
- What Is Not Yours Is Not Yours, by Helen Oyeyemi
Favorite Quotes…
from “tara [the other wing]”:
“Here in the afternoon sun, the lesser shafts
stealing through a barrier of window/outside
thistlehead demons with bright devil faces
blowing on the silent wind/ and inside
still, the stridulation of cicadas gossiping
clicking scandal from powerpole to tree
to holy hilltop rings in my head.”
from “King Bait”:
“…and the eyes, the great silver eyes, intensely circled black centres, burnished globes on the inward side of his head. They reflect neither intelligence nor love, nor malignity, but show forth pure being. Summation. A complete benign magnificence.”
from “One Whale, Singing”:
“But how do they know? she asks herself. About the passing on of knowledge among other species? They may do it in ways beyond our capacity to understand… that we are the only ones to make artefacts I’ll grant you, but that’s because us needy little adapts have such pathetic bodies, and no especial ecological niche. So hooks and hoes, and steel things that gouge and slay, we produce in plenty. And build a wasteland of drear ungainly hovels to shelter our vulnerable hides.”
“The things one could create if one made technology servant to a humble and creative imagination…”
“What would a whale do with an artefact, who is so perfectly adapted to the sea? Their conception of culture, of civilisation, must be so alien that we’d never recognise it, even if we were to stumble on its traces daily.”
“Thinking, as for us passing on our knowledge, hah! We rarely learn from the past or the present, and what we pass on for future humanity is a mere jumble of momentarily true facts, and odd snipers of surprised self-discoveries. That’s not knowledge…”
“That we may be on the bottom of the pile, not the top. It may be that other creatures are aware of their place and purpose in the world, have no need to delve and paw a meaning out. Justify themselves. That they accept all that happens, the beautiful, the terrible, the sickening, as part of the dance, as the joy or pain of the joke. Other species may somehow be equipped to know fully and consciously what truth is, whereas we humans must struggle, must struggle blindly to the end.”
from “Planetesimal”:
“I have wondered. If you sat among heartless strangers, with a universe within your reach, would you stay, wallflower at the party?”
from “While My Guitar Gently Sings”:
“Because I swear to this day you spoke without opening your mouth. As though the thought that was always in your heart had grown to loudness out of the depths of your pool of peace and quiet.”
from “A Nightsong for the Shining Cuckoo”:
“Beneath the cage of ribs there’s a bare scarred heart. My old life is smashed. I want a new way so different I won’t have to think about what I was… There’s no future when your body has betrayed you.”
“…he knew that some blows kill, and you can be killed piecemeal. He hadn’t so much braced himself, I realised after, as armoured himself, frozen himself, against what was coming. If you don’t move, you won’t seem alive. If you don’t move, it’ll pass over you. So Charlie played and sang to stillness. Pipi pipi manu e. I hadn’t felt the dead half of me so heavy before. Pipiwharauroa, The break between living and dead parts ached. E pi pi pi ana e I wanted a knife of fire, to sever me, to free. Mo papa, mama wharauroa, But only my lungs hurt, taut and strained because I wasn’t breathing. Mo papa, mama wharauroa.”
- this part reminded me of Akwaeke Emezi’s Freshwater and Dear Senthuran.
from “The Cicadas of Summer”:
“Francis, I’ve found these. Exuviae.”
“What?”
“It’s a good word eh? These.”
He looks. He doesn’t see them.
“That’s nice.”
“The singers come out of them. It must be like dying, coming out of your skin.”
“What?”
“It’s their skins, these exuviae. You know, the cicadas?”
“Yes. Gwen, take this plate back to Mrs Riley.”
“But Francis.”
He has put his head down again.
“She has a half a chocolate box full of the crackly skins. Tombstones on the way to noisy life…”
“The dreamers are white-eyed, but their eyes change to coral as the time draws near for them to dig to light. To die in the light. To live a singer. All that changing, from egg to nymph, to pupating dreamer; from the long cool silence underground, to the screeching bright sun.”
“But o god there is so much waste in life. There is too much strangeness.”
from “Kiteflying Party at Doctors’ Point”:
“The road twists, unreels in strange ways. There is a peculiar feel to it, as though it had only just decided to turn here itself and is surprised by the direction.”
- haha this is *exactly* what driving the Coromandel feels like too 😂
“I am tired of trying to give the lie to my face, to the mask Nature made of my face. I surge with torment inside, but to view? Calmness. Composure. Plumply pallidly placid. Do my eyes ever show again? Life, even? The dark is everywhere inside, the chase of shadows. Nobody can see it by looking at me.”
“I am tired of living a lie, the lie that is my life. Though it is better to appear dully normal. Better to be considered old fashioned and slightly eccentric because of my sane normality. Let them be amused. Let them laugh. Let them sneer behind my back and smile falsely to my face. It is far better that they do this than get a glimpse of the chaos within. But I am tired of lying.”
“For my own part, I think all deformed monsters should be painlessly destroyed at birth. The pain they cause to those who are closest to them is unbelievable.”
- the context for this quote is that the speaker identifies as such a “deformed monster”
“If I could shush the voices, shush the sounds, the last whimper, the talk and recriminations and my own drawnout anguish, still the noise of the badgering living, the crying of the dead; if I could make a cathedral of peace, a retreat in my head… But I am aware that withdrawal is madness. You don’t have to tell me that.”
“When I open my eyes, having rested a little in the cool of this cave, I see there are swarms of mussels on the wall. Crusts of them, blueback and shiny as though varnished. There is the occasional stranger mussel in their midst, pale green, like a wraith of a mussel. Pallid, obvious, vulnerable. There is never another palegreen mussel closeby for company. The different, the abnormal, the alien, the malformed. Who—or what—selects a person for the torment of difference?”
from “Unnamed Islands in the Unknown Sea”:
“Don’t be afraid. We are all islands but the sea connects us, everyone. Swim.”
from “A Window Drunken in the Brain”:
“I bathe my tongue in champagne. I bathe my palate in chablis. I bathe my oesophagus in claret. I have run out of seas.”
from “Te Kaihau The Windeater”:
“I thought I’d begin like this rather than by saying, I was born and now I’m dying. That’s so commonplace, and we know everybody does it. What I want to do is lay before you the unusual and irrational bits from my life because they may make a pattern in retrospect and, besides, they are the only bits that make sense to me right now.”
“But the person in the mirror isn’t me as I know me. Many people have this feeling. If you look in mirrors, reflections is all you see… true, but my feeling carries beyond mirrors.”
“Seeing is not necessarily believing: seeing is a matter of faith in sight.”
“Incidentally, ‘unthinking’ is the only word I know to describe that state of atavistic knowing, but ‘moonshickered’ fits pretty well what happened next.”
“It all boils down to this: there are things quite outside humanity and we can’t do battle with them. We have to leave it to their own kind to bring them to heel.”
“I don’t like thinking that today is the high crest of humanity; tomorrow, we all fall down.”
from “[Afterword] Headnote to a Maui Tale”:
[last lines]
“It all depends
on what story
you hear”
Content Warnings
Minor: Alcoholism, Animal death, Car accident, Suicidal thoughts, and Suicide
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