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Unity Books staff review a stack of new children’s books for spring
Unity Books staff review a stack of new children’s books for spring

BooksOctober 8, 2024

The Unity Books children’s book review roundup for spring

Unity Books staff review a stack of new children’s books for spring
Unity Books staff review a stack of new children’s books for spring

The booksellers of Unity Books Auckland and Wellington review a handful of children’s books sure to delight and inspire readers of all ages.

AUCKLAND

Reviews by Elka Aitchison and Roger Christensen, booksellers at Unity Books Auckland

Glasgow Boys by Margaret McDonald – (Ages 14+)

You’ll easily fall in love with the two broken boys at the heart of this story. Finlay’s and Banjo’s backstory is full of trauma and yearning in their journeys to turn their lives around after childhoods spent in care homes and foster families in the working-class suburbs of Glasgow, Scotland. This is a coming-of-age novel full of awkwardness, laughter and tears, that will hit you in the gut as you feel the full emotional force of the boys trying desperately to find themselves and their place in the world. The pacing and development of the characters is phenomenal considering this is a debut and I’m predicting well-deserved award recognition. / Reviewed by Roger Christensen

The Biggest Footprint: Eight Billion Humans. One Clumsy Giant by Rob & Tom Sears – (Ages 9+)

I read that the author’s aim with this book was to give readers a graphic way to look at the big data about our species. And they’ve far surpassed their goal in this beautifully simple, illustrated story of humanity’s impact on nature through the lens of a 3km-tall blue giant (roughly the size of eight billion humans mashed together). Carrying all the baggage of humanity with it this mega human proves not to be the smartest of creatures (spot on so far), but through careful observation begins to understand the problems it has created for Planet Earth’s future… and how it might be able to fix them. There is hope for us yet if we’d all just come together to make it happen. / RC

Johnny, The Sea, And Me by Melba Escobar & illustrated by Elizabeth Builes – (Ages 10+)

This is a novel to treasure. In hardback and accompanied by beautiful painterly illustrations we meet a young, timid Pedro, about to embark on a holiday with his mother to a small Caribbean Island. Smallest in his class and bullied at school Pedro has imagined going to sea all his life, finding lost treasure and meeting a pirate. Be careful what you wish for! In his excitement he literally grows inches and likewise when he is sad he shrinks in size. Beautifully rendered story and illustrations this is a magical tale of a young boy coming into his own. / RC

Miss Cat by Jean-Luc Fromental & Joelle Jolivet – (Ages 7+)

An utterly charming noir mystery about the clever and memorably dressed Miss Cat. She’s a PI with ears on her hat running her detective agency at 29 Thirty Street (which smells of old milk). The illustrations are intricate and punchy with a bright but moody palette. I love the humour; it’s witty and not too on the nose, with funny details to be found in names, addresses and the quirks of each character’s personality, like the references to cats littered throughout. They certainly share some traits with our protagonist, after all being stealthy and observant are absolutely necessary if you want to be a private detective! The story is fantastic, with a
satisfying twist and some more complex moral ideas peppered in. It’s atmospheric, sometimes sinister, whimsical and a bit weird, the perfect graphic novel for 7-to-10-year-olds or any lover of crime and cats. / Reviewed by Elka Aitchison

An internal from Miss Cat, a new graphic novel series for kids.

One Weka Went Walking by Kate Preece & illustrated by Pippa Ensor – (Ages 5+)

A wordy, rhyming read aloud that introduces you to the Chatham Islands and their incredible inhabitants through the eyes of a curious weka. You learn the characteristics of our native birds as they’re woven into a delightful, rhythmic story. Pippa Endsor’s beautiful watercolour illustrations capture the beauty of some of Aotearoa’s most endangered birds, from the black robin to the tōrea tai. At the foot of each page we get a fun fact about the corresponding species, like did you know the Chatham Island tāiko was believed extinct until 1978? This is perfect for kids who are as inquisitive as the little weka and a great introduction to Aotearoa’s wildlife and the importance of protecting it. / EA

‘Hutt Valley, Kāpiti, down to the south coast. Our Wellington coverage is powered by members.’
Joel MacManus
— Wellington editor

And the Unity Books Auckland children’s bestsellers for September:

1 Midnight Adventures of Ruru and Kiwi by Clare Scott, illustrated by Amy Haarhoff (Puffin, $21)

2 Sleepy Kiwi by Kat Quin (Tikitibu, $20)

3 The Observologist: A Handbook for Mounting Very Small Scientific Expeditions by Giselle Clarkson (Gecko, $40)

4 Brilliant Maps: An Atlas for Curious Minds by Ian Wright (Granta, $30)

5 The Raven’s Eye Runaways by Claire Mabey (Allen & Unwin, $25)

6 Maui & Other Legends: 8 Classic Tales of Aotearoa by Peter Gossage (Penguin, $40)

7 Dazzlehands by Sacha Cotter, illustrated by Josh Morgan (Huia Publishers, $22)

8 Noisy Book by Bravi Soledad (Gecko, $25)

9 Where Is It? A Wildlife Hunt for Kiwi Kids by Ned Barraud (Potton Burton, $22)

10 Atua: Maori Gods & Heroes by Gavin Bishop (Puffin, $40)


WELLINGTON

Reviews by ​​Rachel Pilois and Eden Denyer and Lisa Adler, booksellers at Unity Books Wellington.

The Spirit Bares Its Teeth by Andrew Joseph White (Ages 15+)

One of my favourite books this year, full stop. YA but barely, this supernatural historical horror had me by the throat until the very end. I can’t remember the last time I was so utterly gripped by a book that I had to finish it on the spot. An excellent depiction of a young autistic trans man in the Victorian era, exploring shared lived female experience and the powerful bonds formed in the face of insurmountable adversity. Also there’s spooky ghosts. It is in your face when it needs to be, but Joseph brings a surprising amount of nuance to the table. If you’re even a little squicked out by medical horror I’d stay clear (this book does not shy away from ANYTHING), but if you’ve got the stomach I really could not recommend it higher. / Reviewed by Eden Denyer

The Witch of Maketu and the Bleating Lambs by Anika Moa, illustrated Rebecca Ter Borg (Ages 3+)

The grumpy witch of Maketu’s search for a bit of moe had me in stitches! Moa’s hilarious dialogue and Ter Borg’s delicious illustrations brim with aroha and delight, making this spooky wee pukapuka fun to read aloud or read along. Great fun for the whole whānau, tu meke Anika and Rebecca! / ED

Rune: The Tale of A Thousand Faces by Carlos Sanchez (Ages 9+) 

If you’ve been in store recently you may have overheard me excitedly nattering to anyone who will listen about this INCREDIBLE new kids’ graphic novel. Secret codes to decipher, a vibrant cast (including a deaf main character!), and jaw dropping art and panel spreads, this is a masterclass in storytelling and design. I also really commend the incorporation of ASL in the comic form. Chiri’s face and signs are so expressive, and I thought the differentiation between spoken and signed speech was extremely clever and well thought through. A treasure for tamariki and rangatahi! / ED

What Feelings Like Best by Tina Oziewicz, illustrated by Aleksandra Zając (Ages 3+)

An exquisite book for children and adults of all ages.  Written in clear prose with absorbing, enticing illustrations, this book explores those feelings we all carry within us, and how recognising and naming them builds emotional clarity and resilience. An absolute must-have on every bookshelf. / Reviewed by Lisa Adler

A page from Wilding by Isabella Tree, illustrated by Angela Harding

Wilding by Isabella Tree and illustrated by Angela Harding (Ages 7+) 

Based on Tree’s adult non-fiction The Book of Wilding this rewritten and re-illustrated edition for younger readers is a must-have for every home and library. Set at the Knepp Castle Estate in the UK, this book tells the story of the inspirational rewilding project that has seen extraordinary increases in wildlife over the past two decades. Including everything from birds to insects, to deer to plants, this book explores the successes of rewilding efforts and gives tips for how these practices can be used and expanded upon globally. Featuring a plethora of Angela Harding’s enchanting illustrations, this book is a joyful and hopeful story of life in a struggling world. / Reviewed by Rachel Pilois

And the Unity Books Wellington children’s bestsellers for September:

1 The Raven’s Eye Runaways by Claire Mabey (Allen & Unwin, $25) 

2 The Little Witch Who Lost Her Broom by Elaine Bickell illustrated by Raymond McGrath ($22) 

3 Dazzlehands  by Sacha Cotter and Josh Morgan (Huia, $22) 

4 The Observologist: A Handbook for Mounting Very Small Scientific Expeditions by Giselle Clarkson (Gecko Press, $40) 

5 The Wild Robot by Peter Brown (Piccadilly Press, $19) 

6 Ultrawild: An Audacious Plan to Rewild Every City on Earth by Steve Mushin (Allen & Unwin, $38)

7 The Grimmelings by Rachael King (Allen & Unwin, $25)

8 Taylor Swift (Little People, Big Dreams) by Maria Isabel Sanchez Vegara (Frances Lincoln, $23) 

9 Rimu: The Tree of Time, An Ammorangi & Millie Adventure by Lauren Keenan (Huia, $26)

10 Titiro/Look by Gavin Bishop (Gecko Press, $25)

PSA: it’s Bookshop Day this Saturday October 12. See the Bookshop Day page to find out what’s happening at your local bookshop. 

Keep going!
Kataraina by Becky Manawatu is out now (Photo: Jenna Todd)
Kataraina by Becky Manawatu is out now (Photo: Jenna Todd)

BooksOctober 5, 2024

The breath out: Kataraina by Becky Manawatu, reviewed

Kataraina by Becky Manawatu is out now (Photo: Jenna Todd)
Kataraina by Becky Manawatu is out now (Photo: Jenna Todd)

Jenna Todd responds to Kataraina, the sequel to Becky Manawatu’s award-winning first novel Auē.

This review contains major spoilers for Auē. 

Many years after the girl shot the man. 

I’d almost forgotten who had shot the man in Auē, winner of the Jann Medlicott Acorn Foundation Prize for Fiction in 2020. When I open the sequel, Kataraina, I am projected back into the world of the Te Au whānau with urgency. Of course it was the girl. But it was also all of them.

This is the dramatic climax of Auē. Young heroes, Ārama (Ari) and Beth. The dreaded villain Stu, Aunty Kat’s abusive husband. Lupo the dog. The house on the farm. Taukiri, Ari’s brother and Tommy, the neighbour. Kat, beaten again. The gun. Stu, dead. Kat has been a shadow throughout Auē, surviving, while also being the person that connected the characters together. How did she get here? 

Kataraina fuels a need for more of Aunty Kat’s story. Not just for the reader, but also for Becky Manawatu, “I had to write something connected to [Auē] because there was more to do, I wanted to give some context of how it got that far, let her speak a lot more.”

Less plot driven than Auē, Kataraina is enriched with frames of reference to the past, with a majority of the chapters time-marked to the shooting. The jump in maturity of Manawatu’s writing is immediately apparent: there is a marked growth in style and confidence. Manawatu aimed for the tihi of the mauka and hit it. The narrative is confident and assured in its structure, as is the precious matauraka of our iwi: the hard k of our Kāi Tahu dialect is unmissable, our karakia, our whenua, our rauemi. 

Time isn’t linear and we move back and forth through vignettes and snapshots. Scenes from years earlier: Kat, the baby of the family, with her older twin siblings, Toko and Aroha. A close bond with her imperfect grandparents, Nanny Liz and Jack. Her parents, Colleen and Hēnare, in their house by the sea. Kat as a seven-year-old, with her whānau in the kitchen. Kat as a teenager, with cousins around the bonfire. 

Textures of domesticity fill Kataraina with scenes of whānau life. The comfort kai of dreams and memory touchstones brings the family together and is central to their interactions: ice cream, kaimoana, raro, white sandwich bread, sponge, boil up, all the chips – hot, ready salted, salt and vinegar. But kai also brings a sense of foreboding: a can of peaches, toasted sammy, bolognese.

As Kataraina steps into her mid teens a toxic relationship – “a seeping rot”, “a greenness” – begins to poison her sense of self worth: “…she chose fuss. She chose trouble. She chose attention, even if she didn’t really want it, even if she’d rather disappear. This was the mess, she realised now, when your survival instincts were tampered with. You might choose danger to remind people you exist or defibrillate your heart.”

Throughout the book, a third person perspective allows for a chorus of whānau, past and present, to tell their story. “There had been moments where Kataraina believed her family was one entity, one body, moving towards something so incredible, and she was both in awe and afraid.” The rupture of Auē’s climax belongs to all of them. “Our ‘we’ has no beginning, will not end.” 

The natural environment cradles the narrative and our characters as Manawatu’s effortless figurative language is intertwined with the languages of science: lush ecology, resources and knowledge sits in the deep fabric of the environment. There is poetry in lines like this: “Meaty rain clouds wring the mountains’ necks, but the sky near the coast is bright white and light gold.” 

The central landmark, breathing as its own character, is Johnson’s Swamp, the kūkūwai on Stu and Kat’s farm. Kat, as a young schoolgirl, sees this too, “I’m reading about how wetlands store a sort of historical record. Like in peat, like in the water and earth. That even water holds memories. So, yeah, science in history.” 

Enveloping the secrets, stories and evidence of those around her, the kūkūwai’s story is a vehicle for new characters to be introduced across vastly different time periods. In early 2020, Kāti Kuri scientists Cairo and Hana work within a group of researchers. Straddling Te Ao Pākeha and Te Ao Māori, the field study asks, “What was the main water source contributing to the massive increase in both the circumference and depth of Johnson’s Swamp?” Clues are given as we are introduced to tīpuna Tikumu, 128 years before Stu’s death. In a space of colonial invasion, evidence is left behind.

Kia pai ai taku titiro ki Te Ara a Kiwa. Looking towards the northern point of the The Neck towards Foveaux Strait. Photo on 120mm film by Jenna Todd.

Manawatu is my whanauka. We were standing together in the blue haze of the Gala night after party at the Auckland Writers Festival in May and discovered our shared whakapapa about five words in. Our tīpuna, Tamairaki Mere Te Kaiheraki, is buried at Te-Wehi-i-Te-Wera The Neck, a headland to the east of Rakiura Stewart Island. For most of the 19th Century into the 20th, The Neck was the home of up to 200 families, mostly of mixed descent whānau, made of wāhine Māori and Pākehā whalers and sealers.

Tamairaki is immortalised on a pou alongside a group of mana-wāhine Māori within a tītī hut-shaped wharenui at Te Rau Aroha Marae in Awarua Bluff. Designed by Cliff Whiting, the bodies of each pou wāhine can be opened. Each tinana pataka are a vessel where whanauka can leave behind taoka, pānui and koha. 

Pre-treaty, the population of Southern Māori decreased rapidly – in 1835, an estimated 4,000 were killed by measles. The group of mana wāhine depicted within the wharenui of Te Rau Aroha Marae are celebrated because their marriages to Pākehā men ensured the survival of our people.

Why do these stories of our tīpuna matter to this review? Because Kataraina is all about the horopaki, the context. To know the Te Au whānau, we have to know the whole story. The complexities and contradictions of being human, kūkūwai and all. The fierce importance of connection to our tīpuna and the foundations they have laid to ensure we are here now. 

The south eastern view from The Neck. Photo on 120mm film by Jenna Todd.

Wāhine are the healers in Kataraina. Even as some exist with a neverending tension of living with a volatile partner. Hēnare, Kat’s Dad, describes his Māmā (Lizzy) as a kidney, rather than the heart of the whānau. “Tell her something that’s causing an ache for you, and she’ll run it through her own flesh. She’ll let it clunk about in her own blood for a bit, purify it for you.” 

Kat wants to be this person too – to her whānau, her friends. But there are consequences, as Stu (an asshole from the beginning, but given the grace of context also) exerts his threatening and consequential energy around her: “She was a mountain, somewhere in her was a peat buried so long it had become black and shiny and precious.” 

In Te Ao Māori, we have duality: Papa and Raki, tapu and noa, te kore and te ao. In her interview with Lynn Freeman, Becky describes Auē as a breath in and hoped that Kataraina would be a breath out. In another RNZ interview, Manawatu described Auē as masculine and Kataraina as feminine. (“Did I say that?” said Manawatu in her Auckland Writers Festival session with Irish writer Sinéad Gleeson.) Auē and Kataraina absolutely work in this way. Now, having read both, I can’t have one without the other. 

Kāi Tahu women have always been the backbone of our iwi’s survival and generations after have ensured the preservation and living endurance of matauraka, tikaka and reo. Becky’s storytelling cradles this belief – generations of survivors – like Aunty Kat, shouldering through.

Kataraina by Becky Manawatu ($37, Makaro Press) is available to purchase from Unity Books

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