About the Author

Becky Manawatu (Ngāi Tahu, Ngāti Māmoe, Waitaha) is a West Coast author and journalist. She was born in Nelson and grew up in Waimangaroa, living now in Westport with her family. Her debut novel, Auē, won Aotearoa’s leading fiction prizes and became one of the country’s all-time fiction bestsellers.

Reviews

‘Much has been made of the violence in this novel … [but in] so many ways, Auē is quite different … more hopeful and tender … In bringing to the page characters who maim, but also characters who love fiercely, Manawatu has had to enter the aching heart of this story and bring her characters back from dark places. Auē has done well because it is expertly crafted, but also because it has something indefinable: enthralling, puzzling, gripping, and familiar, yet otherworldly.’
*The Guardian*

‘“Auē” is the Maori word for a howling cry, and this layered work weaves a striking tapestry of fierce love and unflinching violence worthy of its poetic title … Manawatu excels at enriching her characters and story lines with heartbreaking detail … [A] devastating, beautifully written tale imbued with Maori culture and language.’
*The New York Times*

‘There is something so assured and flawless in the delivery of the writing voice that is almost like acid on the skin.’
*Tara June Winch, co-judge of the Jann Medlicott Acorn Prize for Fiction 2020*

‘It reminds me of The Bone People and of Once Were Warriors. The writing has a wild, intuitive sort of magic.’
*The Spinoff*

‘This is the kind of social realist New Zealand fiction I’m thrilled to see … This is a real punch-in-the-guts kind of novel but while it deals with themes of domestic violence, gang culture, grief, and fractured families and, is at times, a heartbreaking read; it is also a beautifully pitched and nuanced hopeful story about the power of love, friendship, and family … I think everybody should read Auē. It’s a book that people will still be talking about in decades to come.’
*NZ Herald*

‘The word auē is a Maori verb to cry, howl, groan, wail, bawl and yes, yes, yes, yes and yes, you may do all of these things when reading Becky Manawatu’s incredibly assured debut novel. Small word, big emotions – and the perfect title for a book that deals in deceptively simple narration and oceanic feeling … Manawatu elicits compassion from ugly places, and threads through redemptive spiritual beauty, and innocence, too, via alternating voices.’
*The Guardian*

‘Manawatu has an ability to write grisly, horrifying details yet also keep one eye on our hearts. She builds tangible characters that have beauty and wonder, bright dreams, and enduring strength, alongside others that you wish she could unwrite. There are many elements of this book that give a nod to Keri Hulme’s The Bone People. The young boy at the centre, the violence, the isolated South Island backdrop, the secret ‘Bones Bay’ all recall Hulme, but the most important similarity is the way both authors write with such earthy grace and pull you into a world that is as repelling as it is intriguing.’
*Landfall*

‘Auē is not just the story of two boys, it is the story of a family, people who are born into it, and those who become part of it. We travel through past and present, lives come together and are held together by strands of pain, cruelty, hardship, brutality, music, and love. Throughout is the image of birds, some broken and battered, some who manage to fly. Some who sing. The writer knows exactly what she’s doing and takes us with her. I could not stop reading.’
*Renée*

‘A deep and powerful work, maybe even the most successfully achieved portrayal of underclass New Zealand life since Once Were Warriors.’
*Newsroom*

‘This is a confronting book, but it’s superbly written, with the undercurrent of distress escalating as the pages progress … until it explodes in a devastating climax … Like Alan Duff’s Once There Were Warriors, this novel doesn’t shy away from depicting the dysfunctional aspects of Maori gang culture and the violence of toxic masculinity … This gift for dialogue is matched by a raw authenticity which propels the novel along until it becomes unputdownable.’
*ANZ LitLovers*

‘Auē! — a cry of distress — calling out throughout this extraordinary novel of fear and violence, of families torn apart, and people trying to find connection and safety … As you read, you empathise so much with the characters, that the mystery of what exactly has happened and how the people are related to each other is totally absorbing. And the tension of the last few chapters almost unbearable … A remarkable book.’
*alysontheblog*

‘To attempt a plot overview of Auē is difficult because the characters and events intersect and reveal themselves in an order not chronological but like a good mystery, a puzzle fragment at a time. The fragments, often violent, or sad, or beautiful, or funny, all perfectly fit each other and create something more than their parts, but defy a easy summation … cleverly constructed.’
*The Twizel Bookshop*

‘Auē means to cry or wail, which is at the heart of this novel. It gnaws away at you, it consumes you; you can't stop thinking about it, trying to understand it, trying to find hope … a fitting title for this book as there is an underlying sense of sorrow that binds the generations together. It details intergenerational trauma and shares a journey on how this trauma can impact future generations and leave unseen scars breaking the essence and spirit of a person. Manawatu weaves the sorrowful call throughout the book, but there are just enough pockets of hope to allow the reader to imagine a better future for all the characters.’
*Emirates Literature Foundation*

‘[R}emarkable … In Manawatu's precise prose, even the most ruthless acts are imbued with poetry. Auē is a complex and gripping read, exploring identity, race and redemption.’
*The Big Issue*

‘It’s a compelling, riveting story that feels likes riding the waves, moments of joy at the heights, the threat of doom as they crash. And the poetry of the in-between, the goodness inherent within the young and those who have been loved, the healing that can happen when families reconnect, the ceaseless drama of life. The characterisation is so well done, unsentimental but deeply empathetic, the vulnerability of some sits in deep contrast to the brutal nature of others, the tension almost unbearable. A 5 star read — extraordinary literary fiction.’
*Word by Word*

‘Auē is a heartbreaking yet gripping drama … Despite the misery faced by its characters, the book maintains a sense of hope … [Auē] stands out for its stark yet careful approach to depicting confronting and uncomfortable subjects. It’s reminiscent of Douglas Stuart’s Shuggie Bain and Romy Ash’s Floundering in its exploration of tragedy through the innocent eyes of a child.’
*Books+Publishing*

‘It’s about the intergenerational nature of this violence, how ruinous lack of tenderness breeds further ruin. The violence is strongly gendered, the men incapable of expressing themselves except through fists … If lack of tenderness is the cause of all this suffering, aroha, love, is the answer. Throughout Auē love comes to the rescue, even if it is often thwarted. Culture and belonging are key to this love … The writing is cinematic, the dialogue heightened, the action coming in staccato bursts.’
*The Library is Open*

‘Delivered in rapid-fire, punchy prose, Auē is the remarkably assured debut of Becky Manawatu. Tracing the story Taukiri, it’s a confronting portrait of his family life — one that has been devastated by gang violence. Brutal in its themes, but permeated by hope, it’s little wonder that it’s already resonated so strongly with critics and fans alike in Manawatu’s native New Zealand.’
*Happy Mag*

‘Genre-defying, Manawatu’s writing creates an unusual mix of heart-in-your-mouth gang crime and a pensive, deeply moving family drama … Manawatu’s Maori heritage comes through with great heart, hope, and vibrancy by drawing on the natural landscape, Maori myths and the social issues and exclusions that face the modern Maori experience.’
*Irish Examiner*

‘[Auē's] strengths emerge partly through an unwillingness to flinch at bleakness, partly through the depth of emotion, and ultimately the resilience it also portrays.’
*The Sydney Morning Herald*

‘[Manawatu's] prose is as changeable as the ocean: fluid most of the time, choppy and fragmented during intense moments. Each narrator contributes a unique perspective, their voices weaving together to form a coherent, devastating tale … Auē is a novel about how trauma can spread from one generation to the next, and how it is never too late for second chances.’
*Foreword Reviews*

‘Manawatu’s writing is tender, concise and cinematic, the narrative populated as much by loving, supportive men as it is by broken, violent ones. Her superb incorporation of popular music recalls – perhaps not coincidentally – the Midas touch of Quentin Tarantino, whose Django Unchained serves as both motif and character development, representing the irrepressible spirit of children who find joy in the ugliest sides of life and the pall of colonialism that hovers over the story. Manawatu slides between perspectives and time frames, abruptly introducing characters without losing command of the narrative, making revelations and connections at just the right time, the short chapters letting the story unfurl like a rich tapestry.’
*The Saturday Paper*

‘Auē is a vivid and profound work.’
*The Canberra Times*

‘Read this book if you love great fiction and want to discover a powerful new voice from New Zealand.’
*The AU Review*