The Whale Rider--Witi Ihimaera
reviewed by jenn walker 1.23.04
I
made a New Year's Resolution to read. In the past, I read voraciously, with
books as my social circle. I read to avoid figuring out what I was going to
do with my life, to consider instead fantastic worlds inhabited by amazing individuals,
as though some of the glamour would drift into my own life by osmosis. Perhaps
it worked. Perhaps I just got a job. One way or another, suddenly, I was busy,
and 2003 passed and I realized I'd only read one new book. So as New Year's
rolled around, and I went looking for some pleasant goal to work towards I came
up with the idea of a reading renaissance. Saving the world, fixing the ozone
layer or lowering my cholesterol, those things can all wait for 2005. This year,
I'm reading.
But enough about me...
The Whale Rider, by Witi Ihimaera is a great book to start the year, and the resolution off right. No possibility of failure here. The book has about 150 pages and fits easily into a purse or lunch bag. A percocious fifth grader could keep up with the plot, especially after seeing the movie, which won the 2003 Sundance Film Festival Audience Award. It's a sweet, portable book. And it makes me want to read more.
Our story is set in New Zealand, which, of course reminds us of PJ and LOTR and makes us feel at home. Our heroine is Kahu, a girl who can talk to whales, though quite unlike Ellen Degeneres in "Finding Nemo." Kahu is the descendant of the Maori god who rode a whale from the ancient land of Hawiki to New Zealand. She's the grandaughter of the local chief, who is desperate for a boy, desperate for a new chief to lead the people through the complicated task of being Maori in an evolving New Zealand. Kahu's destined to save her people, and there's only one person who doesn't see it.
Kahu (who movie-goers will know as Paikea) is beautiful, an almost omnipotent child with an unsquashable good nature. She glows, and you love her for it. Kahu is young, only about eight years old or so, but she's fearless and gentle and more aware than most any other creature in the story. Her Uncle Rawiri, who narrates the story, says she
"...was moving closer and closer to that point where she was in the right place at the right time, with the right understanding to accomplish the task that had been assigned to her. In this respect there was no doubt in my mind that she had always been the right person." This sense of desinty pulses through the book.
Ihimaera has given Kahu a quirky family to keep her company. Nanny Flowers, her grandmother, a sort of spiritual guide and the feminist force in the town of Whangara. She's a practical lady, who thinks its fine for child saviors to weed vegetable gardens. She'll hop on a motorcycle when the situation warrants. Uncle Rawiri (it's a great name to say over and over, by the way) owns the motorcycle and has a bit of a gang. He also speaks most clearly about what it means to be Maori in the modern world. Well, he lets us know as he figures it out himself. Then there's Koro Apirana, Kahu's grandfather, who would be an entirely majestic figure if his wife didn't outsmart him every day of the week. He's trying his hardest to be a good leader. He's teaching as he was taught. He wants things to be right.
Then there's the whales. Ihimaera gives us a sense of the spiritual world underwater as well as above. Here his writing is more fluid, more shimmering. On land, his words are simple and clear. When describing the whales and their journey, Ihimaera writes differently.
"The giant roots of ice extending down from the surface sparked, glowed, twinkled, and flashed prisms of light, like strobes in a vast subterranean cathedral. The ice cracked, moaned, shivered, and whispered with rippling glissandi, a giant organ playing a titanic symphony. Within the fluted ice chambers the herd of whales moved with infinite grace in a holy procession."
You can probably guess how this story ends, given the title, and given everything you probably know about how a good myth should end. You should probably read this book anyway. Myth is around us everyday. And it's a sweet, portable book.