Excruciating. I grew up in New Plymouth, New Zealand at the same time as Mr. Duff grew up in Rotorua. My experience was similar in some ways but different in that my family was the obverse, my dad was the drinker but he was in no way a dangerous or unloving drunk, at least not to us kids, and I still don't really know if he was dangerous to my Mum. There was unpleasantness as I got into my teens but I joined the Navy and that probably saved my sorry ass. However, my siblings turned out all right - except for some depressions which these days are recognised and treated. Also, my family is very Pakeha; Mum is English/Danish descent and Dad is English/Scottish but both are third generation New Zealanders. Dad had some wonderful Maori friends and in New Plymouth at least we weren't really aware that we were any different from anyone else of different racial descent except that our skin colours were different. I was a happy kid for the most part and am constantly thankful that I was lucky enough to be born to Elva and Ross in New Zealand. Reading this book and dreaming back a bit, I can recognise Alan Duff and his experiences, at least until the Ward-of-State times for him. I was to much of a scaredy-cat to put myself in the situations he put himself in. Also, institutional time would have taken away "girl" time and I sure loved girls - still do.
Alan Duff sure can put searing feeling on paper. I wish there were more of his books out there for me to buy, read and add to my collection of favourites. I have got them all so far. His writing is gripping and his word pictures are unforgettable.
If you ever read these things, Alan, and you are ever in the San Francisco area with some time on your hands, Google me and call or send a message on LibraryThing, I would love to meet you, show you some Sonoma County hospitality and chew some fat. ( )