A LITERARY CRITIQUE OF THE WHALE RIDER, BY WITI IHIMAERA

Witi Ihimaera, The Whale Rider—International Edition (Reed Publishing, 2003), pp. 154. Ihimaera is arguably the most influential Maori author in existence, publishing the first collection of short stories by a Maori writer called Pounamu Pounamu in 1972. The following year, he followed suit by being the first Maori to author a novel—Tangi. However, his magnum opus is indubitably his 1987 The Whale Rider. Fifteen years later the film adaption was released, with the eminent Niki Caro as the supervising director and Keisha Castle-Hughe's entrancing performance as the protagonist. As one commentator accurately observed, "A film so specific to one area, and grounded so firmly in New Zealand and Maori culture, has enthralled audiences from different countries partly because of the universal theme of heroic triumph over adversity, but mainly because of Castle-Hughes' and [Rawiri] Paratene's stunningly natural and utterly convincing performances."

Having watched the movie adaptation several years ago, I must say reading this book was a very interesting and, I suppose one could say, nostalgic experience. The central character is an eight-year-old girl named Kahu who gallantly fights to vindicate her love for her great-grandfather Koro Apirana, her leadership and future destiny. Problem is, Apirana is blinded by a longstanding tradition in the Ngati Konohi tribe of Whangara, the East Coast, which extends its lineage back to the legendary whale rider—namely, only the first male son of each generation has been privy to inheriting the title of chief, and so he sees no use for a girl. However, there are no male heirs to receive such chieftainship—only Kahu is left, and she should be next in line. Through the heroic struggle against the tides, Kahu has inherited a unique ability from the whale rider himself—the ancient ability to communicate with whales. Will she be triumphant? It truly is a story permeated full of profound cultural and spiritual motifs, yet it manages to maintain a fine balance between the realm of mythology and high realism. It is this fine but unprecarious balance, I suggest, which qualifies The Whale Rider as such an outstandingly superb novel.

One especially melancholic and poignant moment emblematic of her craving for Apirana's love and attention is found at pp. 91-93. While reading it, I tried to mentally rewind the clip in the movie I watched several years ago which corresponded to this text. The event is a Friday evening school break-up ceremony which involves a mixture of different groups and events such as "the school choir, the skits, the gymnastics" and "the school cultural group." (p. 91) In the audience, behind Nani Flowers is an empty "Reserved" seat dedicated to a special familial figure (of course, Koro Apirana). However, after each performance, Kahu foreshadows the future grim situation by asking Nani Flowers and Porourangi, "Isn't Koro here yet? He's missing the best part." (p. 91) As stated by the narrator Uncle Rawiri: 

The performances continued, one after another, and I could see that Kahu had realised that Koro Apirana was not going to arrive. The light kept dimming, gradually fading from her face, like a light bulb flickering. By the time the cultural group was finished, she was staring down at the floor trying not to see us. She looked as if she was feeling ashamed, and I loved her all the more for her vulnerability. We tried to bolster her courage by clapping loudly, and we were rewarded by a tremulous smile playing on her face.—p. 91

The dramatic turning point occurs after Kahu is invited up the stage to recite a speech which had, unbeknownst to Flowers and Porourangi, won the East Coast Primary Schools Contest:

"E nga rangatira," Kahu began, "e nga iwi," she looked at Koro Apirana's empty seat, "tena koutou, tena koutou, tena koutou katoa." There were stars in her eyes, like sparkling tears. 'Distinguished guests, members of the audience, my speech is a speech of love for my great-grandfather, Koro Apirana.' Nani Flowers gave a sob, and tears began to flow down her cheeks. Kahu's voice was clear and warm as she told of her love for her great-grandfather and her respect for him. Her tones rang with pride as she recited our genealogy, the family whakapapa. She conveyed how grateful she was to live in Whangara and that her main aim in life was to fulfil the wishes of her great-grandfather and of the tribe. And I felt so proud of her, so proud, and so sad that Koro Apirana was not there to hear how much she loved him. And I wanted to shout, Well done, good for you, to this young girl who was not really so brave and who would have liked the support of the one person who was never there—her Koro.—p. 92 

This event leads up nicely to the literary capstone located near the ending prior to the epilogue, which is incredibly climactic and quick and recounts Kahu's dive as orchestrated by the several whales (below). Ihimaera is undoubtedly a gifted writer, as throughout the entire course of the novel he recounts a mélange of events which have no apparent relations to each other (except their chronological order, of course), and then he is able to draw upon the intricate threads of those specific events and weave them together in a clever and ingenious manner towards the end. For example, the incident involving Koro Apirana throwing a carved stone into the watery depths and instructing the boys to fetch it, only for Kahu to successfully retrieve it (alongside a crayfish "for Paka's tea"), is cleverly referenced as Nani Flowers shows Apirana the stone, only to be met with his baffled question as to which of the boys managed to find it (of course, none of them). (p. 97) Afterwards, Flowers points towards the ocean (Kahu) and Apirana understands this as a sign that Kahu is, indeed, the whale rider. 

In the deepening ocean the fury of the storm was abating. The whale's motions were stronger. As it rose from the sea, its spout was a silver jet in the night sky. Then it dived a third time, and the pressure on her eardrums indicated to the young girl [Kahu] that this was a longer dive than the first two had been. And she knew that the next time would be forever. . . . When the whale broke the surface she made her farewell to sky and earth and sea and land. She called her farewells to her people. She prepared herself as best she could with the little understanding she had. . . .  The whale's body tensed. The girl felt her feet being locked by strong muscles. The cavity for her face widened. The wind whipped at her hair. Suddenly the moon came out. Around her the girl could see whales sounding, sounding, sounding. She lowered her face into the whale and closed her eyes. "I am not afraid to die," she whispered to herself. The whale's body arched and then slide into a steep dive. The water hissed and surged over the girl. The huge flukes seemed to stand on the surface of the sea, stroking at the rain-drenched sky. Then slowly, they too slid beneath the surface. She was Kahutia Te Rangi. She was Paikea. She was the whale rider. Hui e, haumi e, taiki e. Let it be done.—pp. 135, 136

However, I must admit that Ihimaera's portrayal of Apirana's realisation is rather too abrupt, clichéd and lacking. The reader receives the impression that it was only until this point that Apirana suddenly changes his view of Kahu without any prior antecedent factors whatsoever contributing to his paradigmatic shift in thinking. I was especially disappointed at this in chapters 20 and 21, where Apirana is unusually self-critical of himself: "I blame myself for this. It's all my fault." "And all those times I ordered her away from the meeting house, I should have known." "I've been no good." (p. 149) I certainly understand that oftentimes we regret our previous decisions or sayings, but no human changes their beliefs at a such a quick whim but through an often long and perhaps emotionally-difficult process. Unfortunately, Ihimaera fails to reflect this innately human quality.

Furthermore, Ihimaera never provides an explanation of how Kahu managed to arrive at the hospital bed, and so his last two chapters sound eerily akin to the hackneyed "and they lived happily ever after" theme. He merely states,

Three days after the sacred whale and its accompanying herd had gone, and after Kahu had been given up for dead, she had been found unconscious, floating in a nest of dark lustrous kelp in the middle of the ocean. How she got there nobody knew, but when she was found the dolphins that were guarding her sped away with happy somersaults and leaps into the air.—p. 148

How and why did the "sacred whale and its accompanying herd" abandon Kahu? Who discovered her floating in oceanic remoteness? What was the motive for travelling to "the middle of the ocean"? Why didn't anybody bother to ask the obvious question of what actually happened to Kahu? Why does Kahu appear to be completely silent about what occurred? Unfortunately, Ihimaera's falling action and resolution are not as adeptly executed as his exposition and rising action. 

As a final criticism, Ihimaera includes several italicised passages where he depicts the mythology surrounding the whales. I believe this is important for preserving the aforementioned fine but unprecarious balance and providing a context in which the narrative occurs. However, Ihimaera employs overly-convoluted language so that the reader is more concentrated on his lurid adjectival descriptions than the actual mythology being discussed.

However, Still an Awesome Book

Nonetheless, it is no surprise that Ihimaera's canonical novel was a mandatory read for New Zealand students even prior to the release of the movie. While its setting is very much a small settlement, it bespeaks a powerful message which transcends its particular cultural context and parallels many real-life examples. Most importantly, it is mired in a brave heroine who dares to dream.