Like, I suspect, many readers, I read 'The Bone People' because it is a past winner of the Booker Prize. i had no particular preconceptions or expectations, which was a good thing because as it turned out, this is a beautiful but also bizarre and, I would say, occasionally self-indulgent novel.
The main story involves an asexual, difficult Renaissance woman/recluse/artist named Kerewin (almost certanly a self portrait of Keri Hulme, the author, in her first novel) living (literally) in a tower by the sea. She is lured out of her self imposed isolation by a mute young boy and his foster dad. The rest of the plot I will not hint at, except to say that it has chapters of wonderful poetic writing, some abhorrent violence, and lots and lots of drunkenness.
As other reviewers have said elsewhere, the book is fascinating in the way it interweaves Maori history, culture and beliefs with the western culture of the immigrant population (Hulme herself has Maori, Orcadian and Irish blood), and (having read it while in the south island in New Zealand) the sense of place in the book is superb. Where, for me, 'The Bone People' is less perfect, is in the infuriating personality of Kerewin, who is often selfish and pompous. The author is sometimes prone to what read like bizarre daydreams of public acclaim and recognition of her genius, for example in a cringe-worthy scene where the reclusive woman takes her guitar to the rough local pub and sings her own compositions, to cheers, cries of 'More!' and all round celebration. Moments like this perhaps betray a little naivety about actual human society, as does the way the main story is brought together, which i found deeply unconvincing.
However, this is a book to be read because of genuine moments of genius in the writing, because it is capable of transporting any reader to its remote locations, and because its rambling and sometimes shambling style is like no other. It's definitely a worthy award winner and you will never read anything else like it.