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Kurangaituku
Kurangaituku is the story of Hatupatu told from the perspective of the traditional ‘monster’, Kurangaituku, the bird woman. In the traditional story, told from the view of Hatupatu, he is out hunting and is captured by a creature that is part bird and part woman. The bird woman imprisons him in her cave in the mountains. Hatupatu eventually escapes and is pursued by Kurangaituku. He evades her when he leaps over hot springs, but Kurangaituku goes into them and dies.
In this version of the story, Kurangaituku takes us on the journey of her extraordinary life – from the birds who sang her into being, to the arrival of the Song Makers and the change they brought to her world, and her life with Hatupatu and her death. Through the eyes of Kurangaituku, we come to see how being with Hatupatu changed Kurangaituku, emotionally and in her thoughts and actions, and how devastating his betrayal of her was.
In this version of the story, Kurangaituku takes us on the journey of her extraordinary life – from the birds who sang her into being, to the arrival of the Song Makers and the change they brought to her world, and her life with Hatupatu and her death. Through the eyes of Kurangaituku, we come to see how being with Hatupatu changed Kurangaituku, emotionally and in her thoughts and actions, and how devastating his betrayal of her was.
350 pages, Paperback
First published October 31, 2021
73 people are currently reading
1189 people want to read
About the author
Whiti Hereaka
8 books82 followersWhiti Hereaka is an award-winning novelist and playwright of Ngāti Tūwharetoa, Te Arawa, Ngāti Whakaue, Tuhourangi, Ngāti Tumatawera, Tainui and Pākehā descent, based in Wellington, New Zealand.
She teaches Creative Writing at Massey University.
She is the author of four novels: The Graphologist’s Apprentice, and the award-winning YA novels Bugs, Legacy, and her retelling of Kurangaituku.
Legacy won the New Zealand Children’s and Young Adult Book Award for YA fiction in 2019 and Kurangaituku was awarded the 2022 Jann Medlicott Acorn Award for fiction, Ockham New Zealand Book Awards and was long listed for the Dublin Literary Award, 2023.
She was also co-editor of Pūrākau
She teaches Creative Writing at Massey University.
She is the author of four novels: The Graphologist’s Apprentice, and the award-winning YA novels Bugs, Legacy, and her retelling of Kurangaituku.
Legacy won the New Zealand Children’s and Young Adult Book Award for YA fiction in 2019 and Kurangaituku was awarded the 2022 Jann Medlicott Acorn Award for fiction, Ockham New Zealand Book Awards and was long listed for the Dublin Literary Award, 2023.
She was also co-editor of Pūrākau
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 81 reviews
November 16, 2021
Kurangaituku by Whiti Hereaka (Ngāti Tūwharetoa, Te Arawa) feels like stepping into wānanga rather than a reading experience. In wānanga ideas exist between people and all perspectives matter. Wānanga is a place to collectively share ideas, create meaning and shape stories. To achieve this kind of experience for an audience of ‘readers’ is not easy. I mihi to you Whiti for doing this so effortlessly. Tōu mana. Your ten years (or more) of hard mahi shows in the careful placement of each word and careful consideration of each perspective. I know our tūpuna will be celebrating this beautiful pukapuka.
For many of us the story of Hatupatu and the ‘Bird Woman’ won’t be foreign. But for others it will be. It doesn’t matter which camp you’re in, Whiti has us covered. There are layers upon layers of stories and meaning woven into this book - and not just about the main story of Kurangaituku. There is other well known pūrākau weaved in including; the early battles between atua like Tū, Whiro and his brothers, Māui and Hinenuitepo, Hineatauira (Hinetitama) and her father/lover Tane, Mataora and Niwareka and how tā moko came to te ao tūroa. This book is carefully positioned in its time - a time when all of these stories mattered and gave meaning and context to Kurangaituku’s journey.
There is also something cool about the way the book is physically bound. There is a dark (ruru) side and a light (miromiro) side. You can read her story either way. I started on the ruru side because I was drawn to the dark. It was set in Rarohenga (the afterlife) and finished with the story of Hatupatu meeting her. Then I read the miromiro side which was set primarily in te ao tūroa (the world of the light and living) which also finished with their story. Both were wonderful. I loved the way the stories and thoughts of the song makers (humans) shaped Kurangaituku. I loved how both her bird and human whakapapa converged to make her seem at that atua (goddess) status.
I loved this carefully considered story of Kurungaituku. Some might think that because this is written from HER perspective that it’s a feminist retelling of mythology akin to all the greek mythology retellings that are so loved by us all like Circe, A Thousand Ships, Women of Troy and Silence of the Girls. I would say that you’re half right. The writing of this story in this way is new. But I don’t believe for a second that the telling of Kurangaituku’s story from her perspective is entirely new. We only need to look to our kapa haka experts to see her story told on stage through waiata. Similarly our kids in Māori medium in Rotorua learn about her in kura and see her as more than a monster/ogress/thing. She is a much loved ancestor of many. But so far as most of us are concerned it’s usually all about Hatupatu and Kurangaituku is seen as the evil character. This book is the most accessible retelling available in print that I know of.
As you know - so far as books are concerned - colonisation and the white gaze has dictated which and whose stories are prioritised. Māori and other black, indigenous and people of colour have assimilated to patriarchal ideas and belief systems over time. And publishers have prioritised books that perpetuate this racism and patriarchy. Hatupatu has held his place as the ‘main character’ in print for long enough. It’s time to wānanga the space between the characters which is exactly what’s been done here.
There are plenty of delicious additions which were all new to me like her coming into existance, learning to weave, her love making session with Hinenuitepo, the interaction with Tū and Whiro and her moment to moment thought process and introspection as she grew to love Hatupatu and her life with him and then despise him after his unforgivable betrayl. Te reo Māori is prioritised and the Māori world view is mainstream.
Kurangaituku has a very powerful story and Hereaka just nails it. This book is my new favourite (think I’ll need to update my profile pic again). More favourite than every greek retelling I’ve ever held in my hands - which is not surprising because these are our Māori ancestors and these are our Māori stories. Thank you for ripping the pen back on our behalf Whiti.
Kurangaituku will be making her way to bookstores near you very soon (if she isn’t already there!). Official launch date is December 1st. Preorders are open now at www.huia.co.nz and I suggest you get in quick - this one is going to be loved by so many! Get it for all your whānau and anyone else who loves retellings, feminism, whakapapa, Māori pūrākau and epic writing by indigenous wahine toa!
Ngā mihi to Huia Publishers for this copy - I’ll be buying plenty more as gifts too!
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#indigenous #catsofinstagram #burmeseofinstagram #bookstagram #pocbooks #nzlit #aotearoaauthors #womenreading #kurangaituku #tearawa #māori #maori #currently #readingnow
For many of us the story of Hatupatu and the ‘Bird Woman’ won’t be foreign. But for others it will be. It doesn’t matter which camp you’re in, Whiti has us covered. There are layers upon layers of stories and meaning woven into this book - and not just about the main story of Kurangaituku. There is other well known pūrākau weaved in including; the early battles between atua like Tū, Whiro and his brothers, Māui and Hinenuitepo, Hineatauira (Hinetitama) and her father/lover Tane, Mataora and Niwareka and how tā moko came to te ao tūroa. This book is carefully positioned in its time - a time when all of these stories mattered and gave meaning and context to Kurangaituku’s journey.
There is also something cool about the way the book is physically bound. There is a dark (ruru) side and a light (miromiro) side. You can read her story either way. I started on the ruru side because I was drawn to the dark. It was set in Rarohenga (the afterlife) and finished with the story of Hatupatu meeting her. Then I read the miromiro side which was set primarily in te ao tūroa (the world of the light and living) which also finished with their story. Both were wonderful. I loved the way the stories and thoughts of the song makers (humans) shaped Kurangaituku. I loved how both her bird and human whakapapa converged to make her seem at that atua (goddess) status.
I loved this carefully considered story of Kurungaituku. Some might think that because this is written from HER perspective that it’s a feminist retelling of mythology akin to all the greek mythology retellings that are so loved by us all like Circe, A Thousand Ships, Women of Troy and Silence of the Girls. I would say that you’re half right. The writing of this story in this way is new. But I don’t believe for a second that the telling of Kurangaituku’s story from her perspective is entirely new. We only need to look to our kapa haka experts to see her story told on stage through waiata. Similarly our kids in Māori medium in Rotorua learn about her in kura and see her as more than a monster/ogress/thing. She is a much loved ancestor of many. But so far as most of us are concerned it’s usually all about Hatupatu and Kurangaituku is seen as the evil character. This book is the most accessible retelling available in print that I know of.
As you know - so far as books are concerned - colonisation and the white gaze has dictated which and whose stories are prioritised. Māori and other black, indigenous and people of colour have assimilated to patriarchal ideas and belief systems over time. And publishers have prioritised books that perpetuate this racism and patriarchy. Hatupatu has held his place as the ‘main character’ in print for long enough. It’s time to wānanga the space between the characters which is exactly what’s been done here.
There are plenty of delicious additions which were all new to me like her coming into existance, learning to weave, her love making session with Hinenuitepo, the interaction with Tū and Whiro and her moment to moment thought process and introspection as she grew to love Hatupatu and her life with him and then despise him after his unforgivable betrayl. Te reo Māori is prioritised and the Māori world view is mainstream.
Kurangaituku has a very powerful story and Hereaka just nails it. This book is my new favourite (think I’ll need to update my profile pic again). More favourite than every greek retelling I’ve ever held in my hands - which is not surprising because these are our Māori ancestors and these are our Māori stories. Thank you for ripping the pen back on our behalf Whiti.
Kurangaituku will be making her way to bookstores near you very soon (if she isn’t already there!). Official launch date is December 1st. Preorders are open now at www.huia.co.nz and I suggest you get in quick - this one is going to be loved by so many! Get it for all your whānau and anyone else who loves retellings, feminism, whakapapa, Māori pūrākau and epic writing by indigenous wahine toa!
Ngā mihi to Huia Publishers for this copy - I’ll be buying plenty more as gifts too!
.
.
.
.
.
#indigenous #catsofinstagram #burmeseofinstagram #bookstagram #pocbooks #nzlit #aotearoaauthors #womenreading #kurangaituku #tearawa #māori #maori #currently #readingnow
May 7, 2022
I've been on a real journey with this book.
My initial impression was a kind of fascinated revulsion at the cover art - stark but powerful images of the narrator and protagonist Kurangaituku - a mythical bird woman who stalked the imagination of the first peoples of Aotearoa.
The book can also be read identically whichever way up you hold it. The first 100 or so pages are all printed as you'd expect it, but then you're faced with one upside down page out of every two. I was very ready to write this off as gimmickry but tried to keep an open mind.
If this hadn't been shortlisted for an Ockham I don't think I'd have persisted past page 30. The opening is a kind of narration of the emergence of creation from the void. I found myself disoriented as fragments of 'I' and 'he' were left unresolved, and some of the story's key themes and structures are introduced but only just. In hindsight this was a brilliant way to have the reader experience this primordial chaos, but quite high risk (high reward).
Once the narrative component of the story got going I was invested. Kurangaituku ensnares a young man and hold him captive in her lair. The reader comes to understand the characters as they come to understand each other. In the final section we learn that the young man only comes to meet Kurangaituku in a shadowy afterlife after he was killed by his brothers. I was lead to believe this section of the story was narrated from an unknown narrator, but when Hereaka drops an 'I' in I actually got a bit of a fright. It was the bird woman who had seen and understood all.
I was absolutely sold on the author's handling of the tricky point of the reality of these myths. Kurangaituku (and other mythical characters) exist as they are spoken about. Kurangaituku takes on more feminine characteristics as the young man's lustful imagination wanders. Her mind and body reflect the humans who are both her creators and her subjects. The interstices between fact and fiction are paper thin and Hereaka treats them as such. There's a kind of playful challenge to the reader - how real do you think *you* are?
I found this so much more compelling than other modern retellings of ancient myth, mainly I think because of the whakapapa Hereaka brings to this story. You really can tell the depth of thought that's gone into not only the story itself, but reflecting on her role as a single link in a long chain of its transmission down the generations - some of which explains the decision to print unconventionally. It's not a story that has an end as we know it. There's also not the kind of pretention at old English that so exercises some authors (and readers!) of 'historical' fiction; te reo Maori is an asset that is used generously but accessibly. Madeleine Miller's books seem so trivial by comparison.
My initial impression was a kind of fascinated revulsion at the cover art - stark but powerful images of the narrator and protagonist Kurangaituku - a mythical bird woman who stalked the imagination of the first peoples of Aotearoa.
The book can also be read identically whichever way up you hold it. The first 100 or so pages are all printed as you'd expect it, but then you're faced with one upside down page out of every two. I was very ready to write this off as gimmickry but tried to keep an open mind.
If this hadn't been shortlisted for an Ockham I don't think I'd have persisted past page 30. The opening is a kind of narration of the emergence of creation from the void. I found myself disoriented as fragments of 'I' and 'he' were left unresolved, and some of the story's key themes and structures are introduced but only just. In hindsight this was a brilliant way to have the reader experience this primordial chaos, but quite high risk (high reward).
Once the narrative component of the story got going I was invested. Kurangaituku ensnares a young man and hold him captive in her lair. The reader comes to understand the characters as they come to understand each other. In the final section we learn that the young man only comes to meet Kurangaituku in a shadowy afterlife after he was killed by his brothers. I was lead to believe this section of the story was narrated from an unknown narrator, but when Hereaka drops an 'I' in I actually got a bit of a fright. It was the bird woman who had seen and understood all.
I was absolutely sold on the author's handling of the tricky point of the reality of these myths. Kurangaituku (and other mythical characters) exist as they are spoken about. Kurangaituku takes on more feminine characteristics as the young man's lustful imagination wanders. Her mind and body reflect the humans who are both her creators and her subjects. The interstices between fact and fiction are paper thin and Hereaka treats them as such. There's a kind of playful challenge to the reader - how real do you think *you* are?
I found this so much more compelling than other modern retellings of ancient myth, mainly I think because of the whakapapa Hereaka brings to this story. You really can tell the depth of thought that's gone into not only the story itself, but reflecting on her role as a single link in a long chain of its transmission down the generations - some of which explains the decision to print unconventionally. It's not a story that has an end as we know it. There's also not the kind of pretention at old English that so exercises some authors (and readers!) of 'historical' fiction; te reo Maori is an asset that is used generously but accessibly. Madeleine Miller's books seem so trivial by comparison.
February 5, 2022
1. I’m obsessed with the cover art, the card stock, the paper, the smell! the look! the touch!
2. I started on the Miromiro side and I am grateful for that. I don’t want to prescribe how anyone should engage with it, but that worked out great for me
3. I want an anime made of this NOW! Parts of this transported me to the best bits of studio ghibli/ spirited away especially the journey around Rarohenga
4. I couldn’t put this down. It’s dank. It affirmed parts of me I didn’t know needed affirming. In the same way first reading The Bone People or Patricia Grace does…..
5. Im obsessed with knowing how people outside of Aotearoa will respond to this. I havn’t stopped googling for reviews etc
I feel lucky and spoilt this exists
6. It’s very very Māori and very very Queer
7. Some bits were HILARIOUS. So clever how things like toxic masculinity were addressed through interpretations of Atua. Felt like a clever troll…..
8. My only annoyance was thinking I still had a delicious chunk left to shovel down and it was a repeat of the last story
2. I started on the Miromiro side and I am grateful for that. I don’t want to prescribe how anyone should engage with it, but that worked out great for me
3. I want an anime made of this NOW! Parts of this transported me to the best bits of studio ghibli/ spirited away especially the journey around Rarohenga
4. I couldn’t put this down. It’s dank. It affirmed parts of me I didn’t know needed affirming. In the same way first reading The Bone People or Patricia Grace does…..
5. Im obsessed with knowing how people outside of Aotearoa will respond to this. I havn’t stopped googling for reviews etc
I feel lucky and spoilt this exists
6. It’s very very Māori and very very Queer
7. Some bits were HILARIOUS. So clever how things like toxic masculinity were addressed through interpretations of Atua. Felt like a clever troll…..
8. My only annoyance was thinking I still had a delicious chunk left to shovel down and it was a repeat of the last story
April 20, 2022
This is not my typical genre so while I enjoyed the read I didn't love it. Felt like a very kiwi/NZ story though - loved all the te reo words throughout, the other Maori legends referenced. With lots of the greek and roman myths being retold from the women's perspective it was really awesome to read this Maori myth retold in a similar way (particularly as this myth used to scare me a lot reading it as a kid).
March 13, 2022
It isn’t often that upon finishing reading a book you immediately restart, and in that restart you have new meaning. Wow. Just wow. 😍😍😍
Want to read
February 2, 2022Will have to order from the publisher's site, which is fine. I just can't fine it anywhere else.
March 19, 2022
Brilliant. I've not found that I fell into this novel. More like I tentatively crawled along one strand of the web and until I was stuck, being pulled in by Kurangaituku's hypnotic narrative. I ended a little bit in love with her. My review to come
Read
July 17, 2022‘But what was the story? What was the story? We are all eager to hear. You and the Kurangaituku of the past, crouching in the shadow of the whare. What was the story? What was the story?’
There’s obviously a lot of modern fiction that dives into and retools well-worn mythological narratives in order to question timeless assumptions and give voice to the previously voiceless. Whiti Hereaka’s KURANGAITUKU - a bold subversion of ‘Hatupatu and the Bird-Woman’ - does this, of course, but it also grapples with wider concerns about the potential of storytelling and language.
Despite working within the form of a novel, KURANGAITUKU feels indebted to the fluidity and adaptability of pre-colonial forms of oral storytelling: Bodies, landscapes and identities are in a constant state of flux throughout the novel. Characters not only struggle with their own conflicts, but how these conflicts might be perceived and reinterpreted by others. Kurangaituku herself is, on some level, a creation of others’ fears – and desires. I’m sure it’s no coincidence that humanity in the novel is divided into ‘Song Makers’ (Māori) and ‘Settlers’ (European colonialists). Narratives in the pre-colonial world are never settled – even the novel’s centre section (which offers the most traditional version of the original story) is constantly re-negotiating details.
And yet there’s a tangible, ‘hard’ edge to Hereaka’s prose that I love. Although much of this novel feels ethereal and shifting, it is so often grounded in grisly detail; bodies are cruelly dismantled as easily as they are dreamed into being. This dynamic is only amplified in the novel’s ‘dark side’ – a twisting journey into Rarohenga.
On the novel’s unique form: I started with the ‘light side’, read the ‘centre’, and then moved onto the ‘dark side’. But I hesitate to recommend any particular approach. I’d like to think of this aspect of KURANGAITUKU as yet another way that Hereaka attempts to break free of the ‘straightforward’ nature of a novel. The narrative here is uncertain, open to interpretation, and its physical form reflects that.
There’s obviously a lot of modern fiction that dives into and retools well-worn mythological narratives in order to question timeless assumptions and give voice to the previously voiceless. Whiti Hereaka’s KURANGAITUKU - a bold subversion of ‘Hatupatu and the Bird-Woman’ - does this, of course, but it also grapples with wider concerns about the potential of storytelling and language.
Despite working within the form of a novel, KURANGAITUKU feels indebted to the fluidity and adaptability of pre-colonial forms of oral storytelling: Bodies, landscapes and identities are in a constant state of flux throughout the novel. Characters not only struggle with their own conflicts, but how these conflicts might be perceived and reinterpreted by others. Kurangaituku herself is, on some level, a creation of others’ fears – and desires. I’m sure it’s no coincidence that humanity in the novel is divided into ‘Song Makers’ (Māori) and ‘Settlers’ (European colonialists). Narratives in the pre-colonial world are never settled – even the novel’s centre section (which offers the most traditional version of the original story) is constantly re-negotiating details.
And yet there’s a tangible, ‘hard’ edge to Hereaka’s prose that I love. Although much of this novel feels ethereal and shifting, it is so often grounded in grisly detail; bodies are cruelly dismantled as easily as they are dreamed into being. This dynamic is only amplified in the novel’s ‘dark side’ – a twisting journey into Rarohenga.
On the novel’s unique form: I started with the ‘light side’, read the ‘centre’, and then moved onto the ‘dark side’. But I hesitate to recommend any particular approach. I’d like to think of this aspect of KURANGAITUKU as yet another way that Hereaka attempts to break free of the ‘straightforward’ nature of a novel. The narrative here is uncertain, open to interpretation, and its physical form reflects that.
April 1, 2022
I have never read a book like this before - absolutely beautiful beginning, middle, end, te whaiao, te marama.
July 15, 2022
I feel really conflicted about how to review Kurangaituku. I found it quite tough going for the most part as it's a bit violent and disturbing but also quite slow in places, and yet there was some beautiful commentary on the role of language and storytelling in shaping reality—this kept me going. I loved seeing familiar stories referenced, Māui and the sun, and Māui's failed attempt to kill Hinenuitepō, but felt I missed a lot when there were allusions to figures or stories that I was unfamiliar with. There are some really clever shifts in pov with second person direct address used deftly to draw the reader into the story, and Hereaka explicitly plays with time and pacing at certain points to help the reader grasp the chaos and confusion of creation (this was a little reminiscent of the opening chapter of Francis Spufford's Light Perpetual which was pure genius). Overall, it's probably one of those books that is objectively very good but that I just didn't really enjoy reading.
March 12, 2022
I learned of this book from a favorite Instagram account, @apparelforauthors, ordered the book from the publisher in New Zealand and I'm so glad I did. When I first started reading it, I worried that I wouldn't be able to follow it with so many words that were foreign to me. But after such an investment in a brand new book + overseas shipping, I kept reading and once I let myself become absorbed, reading this was truly an experience. It is one of those books that probably permanently alters your brain chemistry.
March 8, 2022
Read this in three days. Powerful, lyrical, mystical, brutal, tender, beautiful and I LOVED the structure.
July 9, 2023
4.5 stars, incredible read!
November 16, 2024
Completely unique, so much depth and so steeped in te ao Māori. It took me a while to get through but very worth it. The imagery !! The language!!
August 6, 2024
Kurangaituku’s story, at least in its traditional telling where the hunter outsmarts the monster in the forest, is one of human mastery over the environment. It’s a form of a ubiquitous story humans tell ourselves to assert our difference from the ‘natural’ world and to justify our dominion over other animals. Not so in Whiti Hereaka’s wonderful retelling, shifting the narrative focus to ‘the monster’ – the bird-woman in this case – and in doing so undermining myths of human superiority: John Gardner does something similar on his retelling of the Beowulf saga in
Grendel
to similar effect.
Here, humans are the new arrivals in Kurungaituku’s world, establishing themselves as she lies dormant, and beginning to reshape it to their needs and wants. Much as she knows to avoid them, she also want to know more – kidnapping Hatupatu in that effort. She’s a creature frustrated by an enquiring mind and considerable intelligence but lack of any speech ability, although able to ventriloquise, so some communication is possible. In adding these characteristics, Hereaka enriches Kurangaituku and grants insight and agency – yet she leaves the story open, while building a complex layering of worlds, including a powerful image of purgatory.
One of the striking features of the book is it dual design where the story has two starting points marked only by a light or dark cover, with neither obviously preferred and each ending with a telling of a version of the ‘traditional', human centric tale. On one reading, this is an optimistic and uplifting tale of resilience overcoming the human intrusion, in the other it is a story of defeat and the destruction of the world that was there before: I find this hard not to read as a metaphor for the options facing us in the Anthropocene era, but am also reluctant to put meaning into Hereaka’s intention.
The design is superb, and all credit to the crew at Huia Books, and to Hereaka’s vision for the layering and multiplicities of the story. Even more, it’s a great retelling – and even if you’ve never and heard the story of Kurungaituku remains recognisable in its original and its inversion because of the ubiquity tales justifying human dominion. It’s a sign of the teetering monstrosity that is my to read pile that this got lost in it for 18 months or more, making my delight at having dived in all the greater. Inventive, sharp and an engaging delight; if this isn’t the best novel I read this year, I’ll be surprised.
Here, humans are the new arrivals in Kurungaituku’s world, establishing themselves as she lies dormant, and beginning to reshape it to their needs and wants. Much as she knows to avoid them, she also want to know more – kidnapping Hatupatu in that effort. She’s a creature frustrated by an enquiring mind and considerable intelligence but lack of any speech ability, although able to ventriloquise, so some communication is possible. In adding these characteristics, Hereaka enriches Kurangaituku and grants insight and agency – yet she leaves the story open, while building a complex layering of worlds, including a powerful image of purgatory.
One of the striking features of the book is it dual design where the story has two starting points marked only by a light or dark cover, with neither obviously preferred and each ending with a telling of a version of the ‘traditional', human centric tale. On one reading, this is an optimistic and uplifting tale of resilience overcoming the human intrusion, in the other it is a story of defeat and the destruction of the world that was there before: I find this hard not to read as a metaphor for the options facing us in the Anthropocene era, but am also reluctant to put meaning into Hereaka’s intention.
The design is superb, and all credit to the crew at Huia Books, and to Hereaka’s vision for the layering and multiplicities of the story. Even more, it’s a great retelling – and even if you’ve never and heard the story of Kurungaituku remains recognisable in its original and its inversion because of the ubiquity tales justifying human dominion. It’s a sign of the teetering monstrosity that is my to read pile that this got lost in it for 18 months or more, making my delight at having dived in all the greater. Inventive, sharp and an engaging delight; if this isn’t the best novel I read this year, I’ll be surprised.
September 21, 2025
not hating but i barely read this missed half the book still don’t get how she ended up with hatupatu… def not for me but i’m counting as read it bc i have to write an essay on it so gotta pretend i’m a kura expert.
November 25, 2021
Wow. Definitely a contender for my favourite book of the year!
December 28, 2022
This year's Ockham Prize for Fiction winner transcends any words I could put in a review. I am honestly not quite sure what to do with the experience of reading this book.
A literal summary says it is the retelling of the Maori myth of Kurangaituku the Bird-Woman and Hatupatu, from Kurangaituku's perspective. In reality, I think this book will be about something different to every reader.
It is structurally complex, although reading it as an ebook made the experience of the structure fairly unpleasant (it can be read in two directions but obviously ebooks are linear).
It is a story about narratives. I really loved the ponderings on storytelling and power. 'Someone somewhere tells a story about you, and in that act of storytelling, that person is not just talking about you but has actually created a you that exists in that story. You exist in this plane and in the world created by the story. Both instances are you and exist independently, and more importantly, dependently.'
Hereaka really pulls at this thread, that stories are owned by the powerful (men) and that others (women) are shaped into the form that the story forces them to take. Indeed, it is very much a book about power and womens' trauma. This aspect of the book is flooringly powerful; I found myself screenshotting multiple passages that really hit home.
The world of the book starts with the forming of Lake Taupo and shows how the physical and spiritual worlds in Maoridom are fluid. This aspect of the book felt very natural to me, but for readers unfamiliar with Maori culture it could be seen as highly fantastical.
Which brings me to an important aspect of the book: its potential readership. The book is heavily steeped in Maori myth and language, and is unashamedly highbrow in both its lyricism and concepts. It is not a necessarily a crowd-pleasing win and many readers will likely find it impenetrable, or at least unpleasant. It pushes hard on big topics: gender equality, sexuality, power and rape. And then it not only unflinchingly tackles those subjects but also subverts traditional narration methods and structures. This is art.
Please shop at your local independent bookstore.
Follow me at www.instagram.com/avrbookstuff.
A literal summary says it is the retelling of the Maori myth of Kurangaituku the Bird-Woman and Hatupatu, from Kurangaituku's perspective. In reality, I think this book will be about something different to every reader.
It is structurally complex, although reading it as an ebook made the experience of the structure fairly unpleasant (it can be read in two directions but obviously ebooks are linear).
It is a story about narratives. I really loved the ponderings on storytelling and power. 'Someone somewhere tells a story about you, and in that act of storytelling, that person is not just talking about you but has actually created a you that exists in that story. You exist in this plane and in the world created by the story. Both instances are you and exist independently, and more importantly, dependently.'
Hereaka really pulls at this thread, that stories are owned by the powerful (men) and that others (women) are shaped into the form that the story forces them to take. Indeed, it is very much a book about power and womens' trauma. This aspect of the book is flooringly powerful; I found myself screenshotting multiple passages that really hit home.
The world of the book starts with the forming of Lake Taupo and shows how the physical and spiritual worlds in Maoridom are fluid. This aspect of the book felt very natural to me, but for readers unfamiliar with Maori culture it could be seen as highly fantastical.
Which brings me to an important aspect of the book: its potential readership. The book is heavily steeped in Maori myth and language, and is unashamedly highbrow in both its lyricism and concepts. It is not a necessarily a crowd-pleasing win and many readers will likely find it impenetrable, or at least unpleasant. It pushes hard on big topics: gender equality, sexuality, power and rape. And then it not only unflinchingly tackles those subjects but also subverts traditional narration methods and structures. This is art.
Please shop at your local independent bookstore.
Follow me at www.instagram.com/avrbookstuff.
February 20, 2022
Lyrical, magical, moving, violent and beautiful.
September 30, 2022
This was a brilliant re-telling of Hatupatu and the bird-woman, steeped in Māori mythology, culture and worldview. Kurangaituku was such an interesting, complex character. She was many things - strong, bloodthirsty, curious, relentless, loving. She's simultaneously powerful and vulnerable - the stories of others making and changing her, and yet also her own will and imposition on others' minds keeping herself together. I just want to know more and more about her.
This book was intellectual and philosophical. The structure of the book really threw me. I like a straightforward prose. I turned the book over and over, scared to start at the wrong end. Even knowing that this structure is more in keeping with Māori philosophy, I still had to make myself be brave and dive in - starting from the dark side in Rarohenga.
I probably enjoyed that half more - seeking revenge on Hatupatu made more sense to me than falling in love with that little hōhā boy. But i did love seeing the world from Kurangaituku's perspective - the birds, the forest, the land, the Song Makers - and her thirst for knowledge, how she learned and loved to weave. I also loved how other stories of Māori mythology were woven into Kurangaituku's story in ways that felt seamless. I found this book incredibly engaging and fascinating, and I can see that there is so much more depth to it than I have reached.
This book was intellectual and philosophical. The structure of the book really threw me. I like a straightforward prose. I turned the book over and over, scared to start at the wrong end. Even knowing that this structure is more in keeping with Māori philosophy, I still had to make myself be brave and dive in - starting from the dark side in Rarohenga.
I probably enjoyed that half more - seeking revenge on Hatupatu made more sense to me than falling in love with that little hōhā boy. But i did love seeing the world from Kurangaituku's perspective - the birds, the forest, the land, the Song Makers - and her thirst for knowledge, how she learned and loved to weave. I also loved how other stories of Māori mythology were woven into Kurangaituku's story in ways that felt seamless. I found this book incredibly engaging and fascinating, and I can see that there is so much more depth to it than I have reached.
March 3, 2022
Love the story and grew up with the basic story. The writing is truly inspired but I really struggled at times with the style, a bit too poetic for me personally.
July 24, 2022
A brilliant retelling of the Maori myth of Kurangaituku and Hatupatu that deserves much more acclaim and attention that it seems to have received. On the surface, it is sort of similar to books like Madeline Miller's Circe in as far as it is about a mythological "monster", but honestly, I felt it had much deeper, more intricate, relevant to modern-day themes.
Whiti Hereaka paints an extremely vivid Aotearoa New Zealand (all the glorious birds!), and a rich and mystical Rarohenga. I am not overly familiar with Te Reo Maori or Maori mythology and I feel I learned a lot reading this. I read the e-book version and didn't realize you could read the halves in either direction so I started with the light side first, then read the dark, and really enjoyed both.
I would give this book a cautionary content warning for rape, incest and some gruesome animal deaths.
If you enjoy mythological retellings, do yourself a favor and read this book in a setting, culture, and mythology that is insanely under-represented in literature.
Whiti Hereaka paints an extremely vivid Aotearoa New Zealand (all the glorious birds!), and a rich and mystical Rarohenga. I am not overly familiar with Te Reo Maori or Maori mythology and I feel I learned a lot reading this. I read the e-book version and didn't realize you could read the halves in either direction so I started with the light side first, then read the dark, and really enjoyed both.
I would give this book a cautionary content warning for rape, incest and some gruesome animal deaths.
If you enjoy mythological retellings, do yourself a favor and read this book in a setting, culture, and mythology that is insanely under-represented in literature.
December 16, 2024
The format of this book is DAZZLING. It is designed to be read in either direction and the covers on each side offer an inverse image to show the cyclical nature of time and life and death, especially for immortals. This is a retelling of a Māori myth from the perspective of the female immortal, Kura, in the vein of Madeline Miller’s Circe, but executed completely differently. Because I am unfamiliar with the original folklore, and because the story uses Te Reo Māori words regularly (as it should!), I felt lost at times, but I also felt like a curtain was lifted to allow me to see into and learn from both the original mythology and the author’s adaptation of it.
October 8, 2022
An interesting Maori fable based on the legend of the Bird Girl, Kurangaitaiku. You get the perspective of the Bird Girl herself and from her pursuer, a young Maori boy, Hatatapu.
It was interesting reading about Maori creation and the role of gods and spirits. I suggest watching a You Tube video on this before you start so you can understand the story better.
It was interesting reading about Maori creation and the role of gods and spirits. I suggest watching a You Tube video on this before you start so you can understand the story better.
June 30, 2022
SUCH a cool concept for a book, the unheard story of the antagonist—and have never seen anything else quite like it with the 2 sides of the book being flipped and telling different stories. Tino pai Whiti!!
April 21, 2025
Brilliant Māori literature!!! It’s disturbing, enriching, ancient and modern all at the same time.
Regrettably i read this on an e-copy which fractures the craftsman’s ship of this book a lil, but first thing imma do when I get back to Aotearoa is get this in physical format as intended
Regrettably i read this on an e-copy which fractures the craftsman’s ship of this book a lil, but first thing imma do when I get back to Aotearoa is get this in physical format as intended
May 3, 2022
It took me so long to read this book
March 9, 2025
the best first reading in nz i could have read, thank u librarian that loved my dua lipa t-shirt (of course) and recommended it to me
September 17, 2022
When the judges awarded the New Zealand Ockham prize to this novel they said it was 'unashamedly literary' and 'utterly innovative'. It is certainly the latter. Hereaka has taken traditional Maori mythology and reworked it as a feminist narrative. In the traditional story the hero is Hatupatu who is captured by the bird woman ('monster', 'ogress') Kurangaituku and when he escapes, tricks her into her death. In Hereaka's retelling the narrator is Kurangaituku herself and we see a completely different scenario. Her novel draws on the contemporary issues of violence towards women and women asserting their own power and sexuality.
Modern New Zealanders learn Maori language and culture at school so for younger people this novel would have been more accessible than it was for me, an older Australian. I spent some time at the start, researching Maori legends and also using a Maori dictionary to understand more of the language that was used extensively in the book. Later I just went with the flow, letting understanding come my way even if it was sometimes limited.
I very much enjoyed the first half of the novel, which is set in the world of life, but the second half, set in the underworld, became too challenging for me in a number of ways and I started skimming. I also read it on Kindle which gave a choice of places to start (the living world or the world of the dead). The print version has the stories opening at opposite ends and meeting in the middle. Both approaches apparently have their difficulties. If I had started by reading Ruru (the owl, representing night or death) I probably would not have continued the book.
The writing is very powerful but it is not an easy read. Our online book group always reads the NZ literary prize winner and I doubt I would have read it if that hadn't been the case. I'm glad I tried it even if I didn't admire or understand all of it. I see that a number of Maori female readers have responded very positively to the novel, feeling that their voices have been heard and their spirit recognised.
I'd like to give this more stars but as I didn't read it all, I probably can't.
Modern New Zealanders learn Maori language and culture at school so for younger people this novel would have been more accessible than it was for me, an older Australian. I spent some time at the start, researching Maori legends and also using a Maori dictionary to understand more of the language that was used extensively in the book. Later I just went with the flow, letting understanding come my way even if it was sometimes limited.
I very much enjoyed the first half of the novel, which is set in the world of life, but the second half, set in the underworld, became too challenging for me in a number of ways and I started skimming. I also read it on Kindle which gave a choice of places to start (the living world or the world of the dead). The print version has the stories opening at opposite ends and meeting in the middle. Both approaches apparently have their difficulties. If I had started by reading Ruru (the owl, representing night or death) I probably would not have continued the book.
The writing is very powerful but it is not an easy read. Our online book group always reads the NZ literary prize winner and I doubt I would have read it if that hadn't been the case. I'm glad I tried it even if I didn't admire or understand all of it. I see that a number of Maori female readers have responded very positively to the novel, feeling that their voices have been heard and their spirit recognised.
I'd like to give this more stars but as I didn't read it all, I probably can't.
January 4, 2022
Kurangaituku is a modern retelling of the Māori myth of Hatupatu and the bird-woman Kurangaituku. In the original story Hatupatu is captured and finds the strength within him to trick the bird woman and escape from the clutches of Kurangaituku. In that original version it is Hatupatu who is the hero and celebrated as such.
In Kurangaituku, the same story is told from the perspective of the bird woman herself. Hereaka brings a remarkable voice to the character. She accentuates, in places, her own vulnerabilities and seeing herself as the monster that others see her as.
Hereaka’s writing really is something quite special. The structure of the book is complicated to get your head around and upon picking up the novel the first thing you notice is that it can, to a point, be read both ways, and while the order in which you read the novel (back first, or front first - whichever you think is which) won’t change the understanding of the text, but it will change the events. The pages are tête-bêche [printed so that one is inverted in relation to the other] in what must have been a logistical and structural mountain for both the writer and the publisher.
Yet another example of something incredibly special in Huia's catalogue.
In Kurangaituku, the same story is told from the perspective of the bird woman herself. Hereaka brings a remarkable voice to the character. She accentuates, in places, her own vulnerabilities and seeing herself as the monster that others see her as.
Hereaka’s writing really is something quite special. The structure of the book is complicated to get your head around and upon picking up the novel the first thing you notice is that it can, to a point, be read both ways, and while the order in which you read the novel (back first, or front first - whichever you think is which) won’t change the understanding of the text, but it will change the events. The pages are tête-bêche [printed so that one is inverted in relation to the other] in what must have been a logistical and structural mountain for both the writer and the publisher.
Yet another example of something incredibly special in Huia's catalogue.
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