Spare, dramatic prose

Press, 20 December 1986, Page 23

Spare, dramatic prose

He Rau Aroha. A Hundred Leaves ol Love. By Apirana Taylor. Penguin, 1986. 96 pp. $14.25 (paperback).

(Reviewed by

Diane Prout)

“A strong and original short fiction writer” is how Penguin senior editor, Geoff Walker, sees Apirana Taylor. He is also “potentially one of New Zealand’s leading poets,” (Harvey McQueen, co-editor for the new Penguin Book of New Zealand Verse). His manuscript for He Rau Aroha was placed in the final four entries for the Pegasus Prize in 1984, which was won by Keri Hulme’s “The Bone People.” He may come dangerously close to being the stereotypical angry young Maori. He has been a university dropout, a labourer and carpenter at Tapu Te Ranga Marae in Wellington, a journalism student and “one of the most talented Maori performers we’ve got” according to Darcy Nicholas of the New Zealand Maori Performers’ Trust.

This multi-faceted versatility certainly comes across in his short stories. This collection begins and ends with fantasy and myth. The story of Tahi the Tui and his faithful mate Reka demonstrates one aspect of Aroha. Pou, the incarnation of the art of the carver Rehua, makes a journey to the spirit world through ignorance and misunderstanding of things Maori and European in this one. In between are 14 little stories, which reveal the many faces of Aroha. Sensual, raw and sometimes brutal, they convey the realities of a world where the Maori is often lost and bewildered. Domestic violence and neglect end in tragedy for Phillipa

while her parents are out annKing. Hera chases a mighty eel in a tale reminiscent of Hemingway’s “The Old Man And The Sea” as she relives her past marriage and family life. Sarah and Casey’s strong and happy union is menaced by forces outside their control and the little prose poem “He Korero” is an ironic fable in which the irrational and wanton behaviour of man is seen for what it is by Spider and Ant. Apirana Taylor makes no statements. He presents in spare, pared down, dramatic prose, the ugliness and beauty that are part of the spectrum of human reactions. These stories are original and memorable, hacked, like Willy Paraha’s carving with chainsaw and adze out of the present and the past.