Long-listed for the New Zealand Ockhams Jann Medlicott Acorn Prize for Fiction, Shilo Kino’s All The We Know grabbed my attention and interest. Then I started reading it and I couldn’t put it down. It is the perfect book for young readers, readers exploring their identity, and those wanting to connect or reconnect with their whakapapa.

The stunning debut adult novel from award-winning writer Shilo Kino, All That We Know interrogates the far-reaching consequences of colonisation while simultaneously making you laugh and cry. Perfect for readers of Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow, Greta & Valdin and Such a Fun Age. Meet Māreikura she’s in love with her best friend Eru, who’s leaving to go on a church mission, and she’s an accidental activist – becoming an online sensation after her speech goes viral. But does she really want the spotlight? Navigating self-diagnosed ADHD, a new romantic relationship, forging friendships and reclaiming her language all at once is no easy feat. And as her platform grows, Māreikura is unwittingly placed on a pedestal as a voice for change against the historical wrongs of colonisation. The question at what personal cost? Set against the vibrant backdrop of Tāmaki Makaurau, Auckland, All That We Know is a modern take on family and friendship and how, even in a divided and often polarising world, the resilience of friendship, love, and connection can defy the greatest challenges of our times.

There is a lot of intensity, trauma, and grief in this book, especially in regards to the lost connection to your family and culture. Māreikura is a strong and inspiring character, but she is also young, stubborn, and neglects others’ feelings. This can make her a very polarising character to read about, a I experienced myself. There were times where I loved what she was doing, and other times where I wanted to shout at her and make her see what she was doing. In a way, she is a character that many can relate to in some way, especially the younger generations, and I can see All That We Know becoming a favourite amongst the young readers.

Many social issues, community themes, and areas of New Zealand’s history shape this novel, Māreikura’s perspective, and the direction of the prose, but it also shines a light on the ongoing happenings in our country. All That We Know gets to the heart of what is important, especially when it comes to Māori culture and language. Who gets to participate, who gets to rebuild, who gets to learn, and who gets to share are all important questions, and perhaps some progressions in plot would not have been quite so accurate in real life, for I hope teachers and elders would stand up and halt any divisive and exclusionary behaviours regarding who can be part of the rekindling of te ao Māori.

While this book’s activism focuses on te ao Māori and racism, I can easily see All That We Know providing positive, informative action on a number of social issues such as LGBTQ+ rights and women’s rights. This is one of those novels that transcends its content. It brings people together and creates discussion and a safe space, not just for te ao Māori. I highly encourage younger readers to pick this up, as well as any NZ readers wishing to reconnect with their whakapapa. It was a very moving read and I have learnt much throughout the novel.