Ko wai koe?

Nic Low is a writer and arts organiser of Ngāi Tahu Maori and European descent. He whakapapas to Ōraka-Aparima at the bottom of the South Island, and was until recently vice-chair of the Ngāi Tahu Ki Melbourne taurahere group. He and his whānau divide their time between a bush retreat in the Castlemaine National Heritage Park, and Christchurch, NZ.

His new book is Uprising, detailing nine walking expeditions into the Ngāi Tahu history of Kā Tiritiri-o-te-moana, New Zealand’s Southern Alps. His first book was Arms Race, a collection of mischievous, polemical short stories. His subjects are wilderness and adventure, technology and power, history and race.

Nic’s short fiction, essays and criticism have been published widely in Australia and New Zealand. He is a recipient of the 2018 CLNZ Writers’ Award, a 2018 Pushcart Prize nominee, and an alumnus of the 2017 Banff Centre Mountain and Wilderness Writing Program. He is the Programme Co-Director of WORD Christchurch Festival of Books, Storytelling and Ideas; and judges literary prizes, most recently the 2020 Commonwealth Short Story Prize, and the 2020 Jan Medlicott Acorn Prize for Fiction in the New Zealand Book Awards.

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UPRISING

Uprising cover - small

This book is about walking as a form of knowing. Armed with Ngāi Tahu’s traditional oral maps and modern satellite atlas, I crossed the Southern Alps more than a dozen times, trying to understand how our forebears saw the land. What did it mean to define your identity by sacred mountains, or actually see them as ancestors, turned to stone?

Raised in the shadow of New Zealand’s Southern Alps, Nic Low grew up on mountain stories from his family’s European side. Years later, a vision of the Alps in a bank of storm clouds sparked a decade-long obsession with comprehending how his Māori ancestors knew that same terrain.

Kā Tiritiri-o-te-moana, the Alps, form the backbone of the Ngāi Tahu tribe’s territory: five hundred kilometres of mountains and glaciers, rivers and forests. Far from being virgin wilderness, the area was named and owned long before Europeans arrived and the struggle for control of the land began.

Low talked with tribal leaders, dived into the archives and an astonishing family memoir, and took what he learned for a walk. Part gripping adventure story, part meditation on history and place, Uprising recounts his alpine expeditions to unlock the stories living in the land.

Uprising is an invitation to travel one of the world’s most spectacular landscapes in the company of Māori explorers, raiding parties, and gods.

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  • Fukuyama was wrong. History hasn't ended. It's been outsourced.

    Arms Race
  • The man had a heavy beard, and the kind of morose gravity that makes talkative people act like fools. Filling his silence would be like shovelling sand into the sea.

    The Lotus Eaters
  • This bar has been full of drunken Frenchmen since the year 1893. It has never been empty. These seats pass like batons in a relay. We sit and try to remember why we are here, but the truth is—we have come here to forget.

    The Lotus Eaters
  • There were mountains outside my window: a range of peaks lifting cold and fierce into the blue. Looking up from my desk, I felt the rush of joy that mountain lovers feel in the presence of the real thing. I felt at home.

    Uprising

the lowdown

All the news that's unfit for print

  • Fukuyama was wrong. History hasn't ended. It's been outsourced.

    Arms Race
  • The man had a heavy beard, and the kind of morose gravity that makes talkative people act like fools. Filling his silence would be like shovelling sand into the sea.

    The Lotus Eaters
  • This bar has been full of drunken Frenchmen since the year 1893. It has never been empty. These seats pass like batons in a relay. We sit and try to remember why we are here, but the truth is—we have come here to forget.

    The Lotus Eaters
  • There were mountains outside my window: a range of peaks lifting cold and fierce into the blue. Looking up from my desk, I felt the rush of joy that mountain lovers feel in the presence of the real thing. I felt at home.

    Uprising