Season of the Jew
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| Season of the Jew | |
| Author | Maurice Shadbolt |
|---|---|
| Country | New Zealand |
| Language | English |
| Genre(s) | Novel |
| Publisher | Hodder & Stoughton (UK) & W.W. Norton (USA) |
| Publication date | 1 February 1987 |
| Media type | Print (Hardback & Paperback) |
| Pages | 384 pp (hardback edition) |
| ISBN | ISBN 0-340-39931-7 (hardback); 0-87923-753-8 (paper) |
Season of the Jew is the 1987 novel by Maurice Shadbolt.
Set in mid-nineteenth century New Zealand it is a semi-fictionalized account of the story of the Māori leader Te Kooti, told from the perspective of one of his pursuers, an officer in the colonial army. The brief preface quotes Shakespeare’s Shylock: “If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his suffrance be by Christian example? Why, revenge. The villainy you teach me I will execute; and it shall go hard, but I will better the instruction.” This lays the moral ground for the resistance of the band of New Zealand natives under their leader Te Kooti, who synthesized a new religion from Christian and Māori traditions combined with his study of the Old Testament. His unique contribution was to declare his followers the latter-day embodiment of the Israelites escaping from Egypt. In the novel the rebels are often simply referred to as “the Jews.” The religion Te Kooti created, the Ringatu Church, still claims around 15,000 adherents in New Zealand today.
In this story of New Zealand and Te Kooti’s War during the year beginning November 10, 1868, the narrative coalesces around the development of its protagonist, George Fairweather, who in Shadbolt’s historical epilogue is described as “A composite character ... yet still far from fictional.” Fairweather is a competent but cynical former British officer in his early forties, who leaves the service under a cloud, turns landscape painter and cultivates an air of worldly detachment. Yet he finds himself drawn by love and humanity back into the world of colonial New Zealand and the maelstrom of the Māori Wars, not altogether disagreeably, as he finds to his surprise.
Pursuing Te Kooti as an officer and commander in the colonial militia, while perfecting his ability to destroy Te Kooti’s rebellious “Jews” Fairweather paradoxically finds his feelings of humanity expanding to include Englishmen, colonials and Māoris, coupled with a growing resentment of racism and injustice. In the end he almost throws his future away by struggling to save a Māori boy, Hamiora (reminiscent of Melville’s Billy Budd), unjustly charged with treason.
With the hanging of Hamiora, November 10, 1869, and the conclusion of Fairweather’s desperate attempts first to prevent and then to mitigate it, the book ends. The problem of Te Kooti is not resolved, except in the brief epilogue, further revealing the depths of Fairweather’s (and Shadbolt’s) ambivalence about the historical figure of Te Kooti, Fairweather’s hated and admired nemesis and one-time friend.
The story is moving and poignant; the adventure/action sequences exciting and gripping. Shadbolt’s depictions of people and terrain are absorbing, colorful and convincing. There is also a bounty of inside-New Zealand information and tantalizing tidbits of Māori culture such as the ribald provenance of the name of Urewera National Park. However, the outstanding feature of Season of the Jew is the rapid-fire staccato dialogue that pervades and ornaments the book. Shadbolt’s economy of expression makes for laconic but witty double-entendres and is one of the joys of this novel. Through the reader's mental effort of hearing that which is not quite spoken and supplying the want thereof Shadbolt involves us most intimately in the dialogue.
If the dramatis personae of Season of the Jew often seem to speak in tones above their station, one can suspend disbelief in consideration of the extreme pleasure afforded by their mutual intercourse. While this reviewer is not qualified to assess New Zealander Shadbolt’s representation of 19th-century Māori culture, it has the ring of authenticity. The evocation of the early days in New Zealand is better than a time machine since you do not have to worry about the return trip (or your luggage). If the author has an axe to grind, it is with the misuse and abuse of authority by lawyers and politicians, as opposed to, say, soldiers and warriors, who may experience conflicting feelings but are honorably murderous.
Shadbolt often has a way of seeming to say one thing and then coming back at you with something totally unexpected. The sarcasm and irony are delicious, at times even explosively humorous. In spite of the candid language and depictions of guerilla war and gory violence, the book feels more like a 19th-century classic along the lines of Melville and Conrad than a modern blood-and-guts thriller, although it serves quite well in the latter capacity.
[edit] Awards and nominations
The book was voted New Zealand's book of the year for 1987.
