Poorhara by Michelle Rahurahu, winner of the Modern Letters Fiction Prize and the Hubert Church Prize for Fiction in the Mātātuhi Foundation Best First Book Awards at the Ockhams 2025, is a powerhouse of writing ingenuity and prowess. It is gut-wrenching, tear-jerking, and laughter-inducing, all wrapped up in one unforgettable tale.

A tragicomedy set in the confines of a 1994 Daihatsu Mira, Poorhara is a journey of epic proportions—a poignant, expansive and darkly funny first novel written by a true poorhara. Erin can hear the whānau whispering, and they won’t tell her why. She’s ditched school to help her aunty clean houses—even though she has a full-time job looking after all the moko. But no one cares, and soon she will be picked clean, like the bones in her māmā’s bedroom. Star is home for the first time in years, and he’s worn the same clothes for days. Everything feels unfamiliar: the karakia, his nephews, the house that he grew up in. He’s too scared to tell his family that he’s bombing back at uni. And the past is an affliction, a gently rising tide. It is 178 years after colonisation. Together, the cousins escape. Free-wheeling across the countryside in a car without a warrant, they cast their net widely. Their family mythologies, heartaches and rifts will surface, and among it the glint of possibility: a return to the whenua where it all began.

Star and Erin are very interesting characters in the middle of a lot of family conflict and pressures which weighs on them as individuals and as whānau. This gives them many layers and their perspectives are rich and compelling. Each is going through their own thing, and the navigating of their relationship at the beginning of the novel adds another piece to the complex puzzle of their lives. There is a strong sense of family between these two, and the bond forged between them creates a strong root in the foundation of Poorhara.

I will say that stylistically the inclusion of texts between Star and Erin makes for some funny but difficult reading. It is very kiwi-coded, and deciphering the shorthand made me smile way more than I initially thought I would. This choice, and the dialogue punctuation, may turn some people off the novel, but I hope it simply provides another avenue of narrative structure and flavour to consider. I personally prefer quotation marks around dialogue, but it was easy enough to look past the difference and enjoy the exchanges between characters. Another stylistic difference in Poorhara is that te reo usage, specifically the lack of macrons and accents. This is a perfectly acceptable way to write te reo Maaori – see the double vowel instead of an ā – but it is not seen in books as often.

If you are looking for a new engaging, intense NZ literary fiction, then look no further than Poorhara. There is so much to take away from this read; the experiences of Māori and our younger generations growing up in such a time as now, with access to education and the chance to broaden their horizons, but the possibility that they may leave their families and communities behind in the process, losing touch with who they are and where they come from, is a very serious issue. Hopefully, Poorhara gives a voice to that experience and captivates you along the way.