Potiki

Stories, and ideas about what stories are, and what their significance is, are a striking and recurrent motif in the novel. Stories about dead ancestors, like those the children share with each other at the cemetery, and mythological tales are passed down orally from generation to generation and are, therefore, central to Maori history and its preservation. They are also the vehicle through which Hemi and Roimata decide to educate Manu and Toko, since they have the capacity to teach the children everything they need to know in order to lead happy and fulfilled lives within the whanau. These stories, however, are not just limited to Maori history; they come to mean any experiences of the world that can be shared and learned from, including those Hemi tells of his work and those James and Tangi bring home from school.

Stories assume an even broader meaning when they represent the events in the lives of Maori people that are narrated by Toko and Roimata, hence the frequent references of these characters to "changing stories" as they set out to narrate the next chapter of their lives. Roimata describes each of the stories she and her family share as "a puzzle piece which tongued or grooved neatly to another" (41), which suggests the interconnectivity of all events and people. This interconnectivity is reflected in the fragmented way the novel is narrated; it is not until the end that everything makes sense and we see how all the events fit together.

Rebirth is a recurrent idea in the novel, contributing to the theme of the link between life and death. It is first introduced in the Prologue, which tells the story of the carver who breathes a new life into dead trees, when he carves them into houses for his people, and poupou to adorn them: "The tree, after a lifetime of fruiting, has after its first death, a further fruiting at the hands of a master" (7). It recurs soon after when, having returned home following twelve years away, Roimata bathes in the sea and senses a new beginning: the start of her new life as Hemi's wife. Additionally, losing his job allows Hemi to revive the land as a means of making a living and therefore reuniting his whanau. The idea that "death is a seeding" (45) later brings comfort to the people when their meeting house burns down and they bury the debris in a trench "so that the new could spring from the old" (141). This leads to the construction of a new meeting house, the first part of which are the remains of the last poupou made by the carver of the original house. However, the most significant example of life resulting from death is the termination of the land development work as a result of Toko's death and the consequent re-flourishing of the land and sea and restoring of peace to the community.

A theory that recurs frequently in the novel is that the notions of past and future do not really exist and that they are socially-constructed ideas to help us categorize events, or, as Roimata puts it, they have been made "for our convenience" (39). Instead, all time is centered in the present, or "now-time" (39), and extends out into a continuous circle, forming a spiral. Events that are perceived as having taken place in the past or those that are expected to take place in the future are simply represented by the outer circles of the spiral. Roimata's description of time as a spiral of "ever-widening circles from which neither beginnings or endings could be defined" (41) is echoed by Toko's likening of time to an "endless vine going everywhere" (58). These ideas support that of the interconnectivity of all events and people, which are all located somewhere on the infinite spiral of time.

Frequent references are made to seagulls throughout the novel. As creatures that are not anchored to either the sea or the land, these birds symbolize freedom. As Roimata's story tells, it is these birds that brought her home after her twelve-year absence, restoring her freedom and happiness. The presence of the gulls "lifting and circling" (129) in the clouded sky, which has a hint of light showing through it in the aftermath of the flooding, is significant: the light that catches the underside of the wings of the birds signifies hope, bringing comfort to the community and faith in the idea that they will overcome their present struggle and achieve freedom.

Fish feature heavily in the novel, most of the time in their capacity as one of the main sources of sustenance for the Maori. The kahawai fish, for example, is described by Roimata as "life" itself (113) because of its "leaping beauty" and "dark bleeding flesh" (113) that symbolize both its vitality and mortality. However, the big conger eel that Toko catches does not just provide his family with a meal; it is the first affirmation of his gift of foresight—the only time it predicts a positive event—and allows him to participate in the activity of fishing with his siblings as their equal, instead of their disabled little brother. At the end of the novel, when the members of the family each tell their own story in the meeting house, Manu's story is about Toko's death. However, instead of telling the real story of his brother's death, he imagines him to have swum inside the mouth of a barracuda, whose jaws "extend, armlike to embrace" (180). To Manu, the fish is a source of escapism and comfort from the horror and distress his brother's murder has caused him.

There are multiple references to fire throughout the novel. On the one hand, fire is presented as a destructive force: it is responsible for the destruction of the meeting house and Manu's premonition of fire in his nightmare seems to be an indication of Toko's impending death. However, as Toko points out on the occasions when he describes a feeling of fire inside him, it was also originally a gift from the gods. Despite the destructive nature of fire, its ashes give birth to a new meeting house and ultimately, through Toko's death, it gives birth to a newfound freedom for the Maori people.