This review was commissioned by and printed in the New Zealand Herald in October 2019.
Ārama is eight years old. His parents have died, and his elder brother Taukiri has abandoned him. He is stuck living with his Aunty and her abusive partner on their farm.
Auē, Becky Manawatu’s first novel, is a difficult but rewarding read. It deals with the cycles of violence, poverty and addiction set against the traumatic intergenerational effects of colonialism and racism in Aotearoa. ‘Auē’ is a wail of distress. That might sound grim – and there certainly are many heartbreaking moments – but Manawatu (Ngāi Tahu) weaves threads of aroha throughout.
Auē is told in short chapters from different viewpoints, including Ārama’s and Taukiri’s in the present, and their parents’ in the past. Teenage Taukiri is running away, horrified that there is no one to stop him doing so: “The bottomlessness to my life was dizzying.” He stops wearing his bone carving and spends the money he earns busking on substances to numb the pain.
Ārama – Ari for short – is also grieving, seeking comfort from adults who are in too much pain to help him: “I was scared to go running out in the world when no one might notice because they were too busy keeping themselves from being sucked down the plughole”. Ari develops instead a touching faith in plasters. Whenever he misses his brother, he puts on another plaster.
Ari’s best friend is Beth (also eight). She too comes from a troubled background but, whereas Ari’s instinct is to try to heal, Beth leans into the violence. One of the first things we see her do is bash an injured baby rabbit to death. She makes Ari watch her favourite movie, Django Unchained, and they get into the habit of pretending to be characters from the film. The frequent references to this ultra-violent story of racially motivated revenge killing ramp up the tension.
Manawatu balances this with moments of joy and humour. A Pākehā woman in Ari’s rural district arranges for the school bus route to include Ari and Beth as a PR stunt to support her campaign for mayor. The kids spoil her white saviour photoshoot by pouring a cowpat down her back.
But what really kept me reading was the pull the characters have towards one another. Underneath the trauma and cultural alienation, Taukiri, Ari and their whānau are bound together. Maybe Ari’s plasters will work after all.
