A review of Ten Volumes, Second Edition

Book Review
By Paul Moon

July 2009

The very nature of academic publishing is that it serves a niche market, and in a country as small as New Zealand, that niche can be so narrow that some books probably never see the light of day because they are simply uneconomic to produce. So when a ten-volume set of books is released, written by Professor Peter Cleave – one of New Zealand’s respected academics – attention is bound to be aroused by the scale of the venture, and by the promise of a substantial body of content.
The work’s opening volume comprises a collection of articles, some of which are new, and some of which are revised versions of existing articles that Cleave has written or presented. The relevancy of the work is underscored by the first paper, which contains suggested options for dealing with the vexed issue of the Foreshore and Seabed Act 2004. The Government has indicated that it will reach some conclusions on this matter within the next two months, but regardless of what is decided, it will be interesting to see the extent to which Cleave’s recommendations are reflected in Government policy, and for academics to debate some of the themes raised long after any settlement has been made at a political level. This article stands out as being the most detailed in this volume, and certainly one of the most well-conceived discussions of the present state of the Act that exists in print anywhere. For this piece alone, the first volume in this collection makes an extremely useful contribution not only to academic discourse, but to issues affecting the national life of the country.
Other articles in this volume focus on issues surrounding Maori language – its survival, its transition from an oral to a written language, and its re-emergence as an oral and written language. To this is added a highly original and possibly even provocative piece on conceptual interpretations of pa; a reflection on issues associated with the 1981 Springbok rugby tour to New Zealand, and concludes with a series of brief but brilliant articles which tackle a variety of culturally-charged concepts, and which, among much else, challenge the reader’s understanding of meanings associated with them.
From a collection of articles, Cleave then provides in the second volume of this collection a book. Starting points? A discussion of contemporary Maori society and culture, is primarily about New Zealand historiography, into which is injected a broad range of arguments and perspectives relating to issues such as culture, identity, tradition and modernity, and the media. One of the great strengths of this volume is the extent to which Cleave is able to draw on international material and examples to illuminate his arguments, without the reader ever getting the sense that he is being overwhelmed by comparative examples from other countries. It is a difficult balance to establish, but when handled as masterfully as in Starting Points? The benefits are immediately apparent. The theme of literacy raised in the first volume reappears briefly in this one, but in a substantially different context, with a strong connection with the way in which history works in cultures that had/have strong oral components. In the central sections of this volume is a series of analyses of the works of other writers, in which Cleave adopts the format of quoting passages from articles, and then providing a commentary on them. This is an approach to criticism that is too seldom utilised. In the case of this volume, it has enabled Cleave to deconstruct and then reconstruct ideas and themes, using these sources as interchangeable building blocks – able to be assembled in a variety of forms according to the writer’s perspectives.
Following on from Starting Points? is the third edition of one of Cleave’s seminal works: Rangahau pae iti kahurangi: Research in a small world of light and shade. This work, on themes and approaches to research in a broadly Maori context, has become a recommended text book for many tertiary course around the country, and draws heavily on traditional concepts of learning and understanding as part of the basis for one of the frameworks of research. The traditional is not closed off from critique, however, and Cleave’s great strength in this area is his ability to combine an in-depth cultural knowledge with recent scholarship on research, producing insightful and useful conclusions for anyone engaged in this area of study.
Another third edition in this collection is Papers on Social Work. His volume is made up of seven papers dealing with subjects from the more standard ones, such as ethics, to the some unlikely choices, such as the city space and social work, and the thematically-related article on places of inquiry. Yet, whether predictable or otherwise, Cleave brings new insights and challenging perspectives to the reader. Even the most experienced social work practitioner would be bound to have the perceptions of their profession augmented as a result of reading this book and absorbing some of its ideas.
Papers on Social Work is followed by the 244-page volume Papers on Language. Made up of thirteen articles, this work has Cleave again drawing on a useful quantity of international scholarship, and revealing why he is so highly-regarded in the academic community. There are too few writers in this country capable of combining material from so many different disciplines and in a way that produces such a wide variety of perspectives. Again, there is some material here that appears elsewhere, but its precise employment this volume avoids any sense of repetition. A few of the shorter articles in this volume would be suited mainly for teachers of te reo, but otherwise, the tenor of the works as a whole is well-suited to the general academic reader.
The next book in this collection is the 197-page What do we know about the mark on the wall? Images, rules and prior knowledge. As for its subject, Cleave opens with the teasing line: ‘As the author I still have difficulty saying what his book is about’. But rather than answer with a pithy summary, Cleave allows the ideas contained in this work to speak for themselves – no more, no less. Themes about the meaning of ideas, place, and memory compete with topics on historiography, sociolinguistics, and social geography, among many others. This is probably the most challenging book in the collection. Cleave moves, sometimes with great speed, from one topic to another, often leaving just hints of whole new areas of potential exploration. The reader might feel settled with an idea, and then in the next paragraph, Cleave might challenge that idea from several angles, before hauling the topic elsewhere, with a series of careful thematic links. There is no stated topic for this book, and nor ought there to be. It is like a rhapsody, with different motifs surfacing at various points, connected by very little at times, yet, at the conclusion, it all seems to have a link of sorts to the idea of knowledge. This is possibly one of the most satisfying yet challenging works in the collection.
Te Pu Tapere- the impulse to perform, formerly known as Depot Takirua, is the third edition of this work, and focuses mainly on the electronic media. At 204 pages, it is as substantial a work as any of its companion volumes in this collection, and for those studying film and television in New Zealand, it would be indispensible. This most certainly ought to be a prescribed text for all media students. The portrayal of Maori in film and television comes in for close scrutiny here, and Cleave seizes on several deficiencies and stereotypes in the way culture is presented in popular culture. The chapter on Jane Campion’s The Piano is one of the outstanding portions of this book, and as all the other chapters, offers insights that hitherto have not been available to readers interested in these areas of study. Some of the essays in this work date back to the 1990s, but have been revised where appropriate to maintain their currency.
Iwi Station: A Discussion of Print, Radio, Television, and the Internet in Aotearoa/ New Zealand also has a string media focus, as the title suggests. However, in keeping with the general approach of the other volumes in this collection, Cleave has added elements of history, sociology, and anthropology into the mix. And instead of merely being descriptive about the topics he has chosen, Cleave continually probes and questions to elicit deeper meanings behind them. This is most certainly a text that should be compulsory reading for every journalist and person involved in the media in New Zealand. In particular, it lifts the lid on the sorts of conceptual developments in thought that have led to the status the media currently has in New Zealand.
This collection, coming out as a single set, is unique in New Zealand academic writing. But the format and quantity side, the lasting value of these works is in the ideas they express and the changes in perception that they will bring about for the reader. Cleave deserves full praise for the contribution he has made in these works to the intellectual conversation about New Zealandness.




Paul Moon is Professor of History at Te Ara Poutama, the faculty of Maori Development at AUT University.

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