Farah of Untwa joins a school for training fighters, strategic thinkers and military personnel. It means she escapes her domineering mother and the tedious duties that come with being from a Ngāti in the upper echelons of society. But at the school, Farah, an intuitive, is teamed up with fighter Lase, a boy from a lower Ngāti. Farah's condescension and disturbing hallucinations and Lase's resentment test their partnership. But just when they finally seem to be working well together, the school is attacked by other-worldly forces. Farah and Lase must use their skills to fight the alien invaders and save their people from obliteration.
Steph Matuku brings her A game in a fresh and thrilling sci-fi adventure. Farah is a young Intuitive embarking on military training at the Western Wānanga where she finds herself paired with a surly (and by surly I mean handsome) combatant called Lase in a series of badass training scenarios. They get on beautifully (and by beautifully I mean terribly) yet find themselves irresistibly drawn to each other. Turns out they’re a top-notch battle-pair destined for BIG things. How’s about saving the freaking world from a 3000 year cycle/repeat attack from pasty-faced planet crushing colonists looking to pillage resources and subjugate the native people (sound familiar 😉). Never fear, Farah’s got a hotline to the gods and a growing aptitude for sliding through time that preps her for a bitterly hard road, battling her way through a war zone to their people’s last and fading hope - a gate to freedom.
Now, anyone who knows me knows I am a big time Matuku fan. You’ve seen me bang on about Flight Of The Fantail. Migration is a perfect addition to your young adult, English reading/teaching list. It’s fast paced, voice driven, beautifully written sci-fi with unique world building inspired by familiar indigenous culture. The story comes alive through Farah’s flawed and privileged POV, as she engages with trainees from all different walks of life. She finds her assumptions challenged as she struggles to overcome her past and her prejudices to land on common ground. There are trainees you will root for and some you’ll be begging to come to a bad end (*cough* Kergan *cough*) and some you’ll be surprised to find prove themselves as allies. I totally see the Hunger Games/ Divergent comparisons but Migration is truly and delightfully its own thing with an empowering and relevant message for young people today. It’s OUT NOW! Go grab a copy!!
On the opening pages of Steph Matuku’s newest novel, Migration, I am confronted with scenes all too familiar from social media and the news: families fleeing for their lives. Children, the elderly, mothers – all desperately trying to find safety. And yet, Steph would have written this chapter way before the events we’ve been seeing on our screens. Sadly, this seems to be par for the course of humanity: to destroy first, ask questions later. The difficult truths in Migration can be understood by reading about World War II, Syria, Afghanistan, Palestine: the motivation by the more powerful to take precious things from another culture by force. The how and why of such actions has become almost normalised. Non-fiction is great for transferring information and knowledge; fiction is better for transforming beliefs and behaviours.
The threat of war and the impact of colonization are just the backdrop to an engaging and unputdownable read. As the story progresses, the reader is caught up in the lives of the characters through the wonderfully rendered narrative. The novel shows us the experiences of our point of view character, Farah, as she enters the wānanga military academy as a new recruit. The descriptions of place and character are masterclass. We are introduced to birds, bugs and critters with strange names doing some strange things while at the same time reminding me of ‘our’ creatures. For example, in the extract below, Farah could have been looking out over Piha were it not for the pink sand. “The view almost made up for her irritation. The coastal cliffs, stretched away in both directions, a line of frothy white surf separating the blue ocean from the pink sands of the beach. The breeze brough the sharp scent of salt. The constant movement of the waves below made her feel restless. She was a long way from the placid green gardens of Ngāti Untwa, where the air was always scented with perfume and the birdsong was melodic and sweet. The placed hummed with energy…” page 28 Although Migration is set elsewhere (another time or foreign planet foreign), the reality created in the story is completely believable.
There are important lessons, both physical and intuitive, for Farah and us, the reader: ‘Funny how heavy words were when they were imprisoned inside. Letting them out was like freeing a caged bird.’ p185 But they are communicated with a light touch – the new learning comes about organically from the action and reaction of the characters’ adventures. Farah’s self-reflection, her growing skills as an intuitive, and education of histories that underpin her community make us root for her. We share in the moments of exhilaration and deep grief. We fist bump mentally when she ‘scores’ a point and get annoyed with other trainees who try to thwart her development.
A traumatic event hardwires a person, their whānau, their community. to behave in a specific way. Years go by and the reason for that behaviour might be lost but the kawa and the tikanga that is born from that event remains. The novel reminds us that too many cultures have to factor into the fabric of their society some kind of aggressive force. They must do what is needed to protect and defend their lives, livelihood and way of life. The need for a military power is a given in this story but seamlessly, Matuku offers a glimpse of an alternative way of being: “Perhaps instead of trying to force peace through violence, you should consider that peace is best achieved through peace.” p185
With each new ‘reveal’ of the world of Aowhetū, I would inwardly shake my head in awe—how does Matuku come up with this stuff? How does her brain work to create such logical, beautiful, convincing ‘tales’? She’s built an entire ‘laws of physics and science’ and the rules associated with these: all flawlessly constructed and communicated. I totally believe somewhere, sometime, there is a rainbow doorway into which one may step.
Migration has echoes of things I know: the word ‘ngāti’ attributed to different groups of people in the same way as we’d have the British class system, and ‘māma’ and ‘pāpā’ for mum and dad. The wānanga itself as a strict military training academy complete with the same squabbles and hierarchy you’d find in the dorms of many boarding schools. Although not explicitly stated (and it doesn’t need to be), this is a book that has kaupapa Māori mixed all the way through. I recognize many of the tikanga/practices such as pōwhiri and removing shoes before entering a meeting hall. Under normal circumstances, the welcome ceremony would have taken at least an hour, with speeches and songs and everything planned out to the very last detail. But Vana hadn’t had any time to prepare anything, and the ceremony barely lasted five minutes before the trainees were kicking off their shoes and entering the hall.
Although kind of like The Hunger Games, Migration is way better. Like Maze Runner or Ender’s Game but so much more relevant to our rangatahi. I loved all those other international best sellers but this is superior because it’s a) written by one of our own, b) has a recognisable indigeneity, and c) timeless appeal of relationships and overcoming obstacles. I’ve been telling friends to buy/read/gift this novel because they, like me, will love this book for its cracking pace, balance of thrills, humour and sadness, the brilliant writing. (Perfection. Not one word, phrase, or sentence ill fitted!) With images like this, teens will love it: “The narrow space ran behind a row of eating establishments and was home to noisome scrap heaps and porous bins. Drizzles of muck oozed over the cobblestones and into the drains. Farah covered her nose as her boots splashed through stinking puddles, keeping away from the bins lest something small and furry leapt onto her in the dark.” page 344
Migration is funny, real, exciting, incredibly well-written. Treat yourself. You may lose a few days to reading while the dust and laundry gather but it will totally be worth it.
Farah has lived a privileged life, with everything at her fingertips and never wanting for anything - except freedom. Entering a military training wānanga is an opportunity for Farah to escape her demanding and controlling māmā. Relishing the look and feel of the trainee uniform and discarding the embellishments her mother made her wear (against wānanga rules), Farah finally felt free enough to be herself, and not her mother's puppet.
Settling in at the wānanga isn't quite as smooth as hoped, as she has blithely already offended others. But she is ready to work hard as an intuitive trainee - working on her mind skills to see seconds into the future.
Soon after arriving, Farah is paired with a combative trainee. Combatant's build their fighting skills, and together with their intuitive partner, they work together to fight other pairs of trainees. Training is long and hard, but satisfying.
Farah meets other trainees and makes close bonds, all the while learning about herself, her biases and the spiritual side of the wānanga. Her intuitive skills are increasing, even if her history classes are boring and her creative weaponry marks are sorely lacking. When her mother is suddenly applying pressure from afar, Farah wonders if she will ever escape her influence.
But soon, all that she has learnt or been worrying about is inconsequential. Her skills suddenly have a mind of their own, and the world around her begins to fall apart. Can she mend the bridges she has all but torched, believe in her intuition and become much more than anyone ever expected of her - especially herself?
Set in a military style boarding school, thousands of years in the future, Migration has a definite grounding in te ao Māori. The school is named a wānanga, their bags kete, and karakia are sung in special moments. There are many more references within the story that make kiwi readers feel at home, all whilst visiting this dystopian world with strange creatures and temples, paramount.
It begins with a prologue of a portal being used to help a large group of people escape their captors, and this all becomes relevant as we get to know Farah, her people's customs and gods, and how she fits into it all. With only escape from her domineering mother in mind in the beginning, Farah goes through life changing events, losing and finding faith in herself and her abilities, and that the one she deemed an enemy is actually the opposite. Not quite an enemies to lovers trope, but an interesting bond to watch develop.
Farah has faced much more than she could ever have imagined in her short time at the wānanga, when an explosion rocks underfoot. An action-packed and increasingly tense conclusion had me turning pages even faster.
Migration is masterfully written, and gripping, with excellent world-building. The settings are easily imagined without tons of description, and main character Farah's personal and supernatural development, fascinating. Will there be more from Farah's world?
Fast-paced, tense, exciting and well written - and some have compared Migration favourably to The Hunger Games and Mazerunner.
Set sometime in the future and possibly on a whole other planet, the narrative is set firmly in tikanga Maori, which makes it relatable to us here in NZ. The world building is detailed and the characters have depth.
Farah is finally escaping her bossy mother and heading to the renowned Western Wananga, where Aowhetu's best are trained as military fighters in response to the immediate threat of war and colonisation.
Whilst there she meets others who are as smart and determined as she is and they have to fight together, and sometimes against each other, to try and keep their world intact.
There is some fruity language used intermittently, but the story has depth and will leave the reader making parallels with our own present day world.
I loved the creativity of this world and the very different resolution to the conflict compared to other books/dystopians. My only wish is that we had gotten more (maybe a trilogy instead of one book) because there was still so much unexplored and unexplained. It's still great as it is, but I think it could have been amazing with a little more expansion. Definitely recommend this for a different YA dystopian :)
Sometimes the privileged life is not for you. Your domineering mother makes you decide, perhaps a different life is worth pursuing. Farah thought so, so decided to go into a tough school of military training, fighting, and thinking about the bigger picture. These new skills come into real life use when aliens start invading. This is a well crafted, world building story full of great characters and awesome plot twists. The author will certainly entertain you with this page turner of a book.
I found this a perfectly acceptable book. The characters, plot, themes all kept me interested but I felt that it was missing a spark that made it am awesome read. I wanted more love story or more sci-fi or more history just something to keep more engaged with it. It felt like a book that was written to be used by teachers rather than a book that would be loved by readers.
I waffle between 3 and 4 stars. I love the concept and the world building, but the pacing and character development feel off kilter. Maybe it is partly a case of so much telling and not showing enough. I wanted more about the characters.
Great story. While it's science fiction and has echoes of Ender's Game about it (think military space school for kids), kupu Māori and cultural references make this refreshingly unique in its familiarity and foreignness. The use of ngāti as a class system is inspired, and also jarring and relatable - while it's not my reality, it's not so hard to imagine a far flung future on another planet where it could be so. However, along with māmā, pāpā and kete (maybe I missed a few more), I found it hard to believe that they were the only kupu in common use. In saying that, I wholeheartedly accept the way the author described a tangi and pōwhiri process, a marae and wharenui/wharekai without inserting kupu. It felt organic in that the traditions were so normalised in the context of the world that it invited the reader to think the same. Which is why I'm curious about the choice of the kupu used and not others. The linguistic logic didn't quite make sense to me - ngāti, xin, Huruin. I'd have thought thousands of years would have soften the distinct edges of words, but again, this comes down to my curiosity of word (Māori and non-Māori) choice. That aside, I felt the main characters lacked chemistry (but if this is a tween book then it's fine), and the ending felt anti climatic. I appreciate the full circle moment though. Overall, loved it.