Debbie--have you seen THE CRYING ROCKS by Janet Taylor Lisle?

A colleague wrote to ask if I've seen anything about Janet Taylor Lisle's The Crying Rocks. It is due out in May of 2017 from Simon and Schuster.

Here's the description:

From Newbery Honor author Janet Taylor Lisle comes a lyrical story about one girl’s discovery of her startling past—and her search to understand her complicated present.

Joelle’s height and dark skin set her apart from everyone in Marshfield. It’s no secret that she’s adopted, but where is she from? Aunt Mary Louise says she came from Chicago on a freight train, but the story doesn’t sit right with Joelle. There’s something more. She feels it.

Carlos, the quiet boy in Joelle’s Spanish class, sees it. When he tells her that she looks like a girl in the town library’s old mural of Narragansett Indians, Joelle can’t help sneaking a look. She’s surprised by a flicker of recognition. And when Carlos tells her about the Crying Rocks, where the ghosts of Narragansett children are said to cry for their lost mothers, Joelle knows she must visit them.

When they finally set out through the forest, neither she nor Carlos anticipates the power of the ancient place, or the revelations to be found there—about the pasts they’ve both buried, and the discovery of a rare kind of courage that runs deep in Joelle’s family.

As I started some of the background research about the book, I went to Lisle's website and saw that it isn't a new book. It got awards and honors in 2004 and 2006. Here's an excerpt Lisle has on her website:

“What was that?” Carlos asks.
Joelle listens but hears nothing, only the sound of wind kicking branches overhead. "What?”
“A scream. Did you hear it?”
She shakes her head. "No. Nothing."

Carlos listens again. “Somewhere over there is a mass of glacial boulders called the Crying Rocks.” His face, in shadow, has taken on a stern, gaunt look. For the first time, Joelle sees, or imagines she sees, a vague outline of his Indian ancestry—something about his nose and the slope of his forehead. He is gazing intently into the forest.

“The story is that when you pass by these rocks at certain times, you hear children crying,” he says.
“Children! What children?”
Around them, tree shadows flick and twist.
“Ghosts of Indian children,” Carlos says. “They were killed there or something. A long time ago.”
“It's getting so dark,” Joelle murmurs.
In that moment an eerie feeling descends on them both.
“Let's get out of here,” Carlos whispers.

Why is it being republished? Did it get revised? Or is it being reissued with a new cover, with expectations that in this moment of diverse books, it'll do well? It isn't an #OwnVoices story... and what I read of that excerpt... well, let's say I'm not optimistic.

Here's an old cover and the new one:

If I hadn't done this background research, I might have bought the book when I don't need to... my library likely has a copy. If I read it, I'll be back.

Update (same day) -- a quick note: Some of the book is available online. I read that Carlos is "about one sixteenth or something" Sioux from "out West" (p. 15).

Debbie--have you seen STONE MIRRORS: THE SCUPTURE AND SILENCE OF EDMONIA LEWIS, by Jeannine Atkins

A reader asked me if I'd seen Jeannine Atkins Stone Mirrors: The Sculpture and Silence of Edmonia Jones. It is due out in January from Atheneum Books for Young Readers--which is part of Simon and Schuster. Here's the description, from Amazon:

From critically acclaimed author Jeannine Atkins comes a gorgeous, haunting biographical novel in verse about a half Native American, half African American sculptor working in the years following the Civil War.

A sculptor of historical figures starts with givens but creates her own vision. Edmonia Lewis was just such a sculptor, but she never spoke or wrote much about her past, and the stories that have come down through time are often vague or contradictory. Some facts are known: Edmonia was the daughter of an Ojibwe woman and an African-Haitian man. She had the rare opportunity to study art at Oberlin, one of the first schools to admit women and people of color, but lost her place after being accused of poisoning and theft, despite being acquitted of both. She moved to Boston and eventually Italy, where she became a successful sculptor.

But the historical record is very thin. The open questions about Edmonia’s life seem ideally suited to verse, a form that is comfortable with mysteries. Inspired by both the facts and the gaps in history, author Jeannine Atkins imagines her way into a vision of what might have been.

Kirkus and Booklist gave it starred reviews. As far as I can tell, Atkins doesn't have Ojibwe or African American heritage. In her blog post about Stone Mirrors, she shares a poem she wrote for the jacket flap. Here's the first paragraph:

Edmonia Lewis
studies faces for truth
or lies, checks classrooms
for safety or traps.
She's sixteen, the daughter
of an Ojibwe woman
and a free man of color who crosses
the country's border for safety
before the war between North and South.

I've ordered a copy. Hopefully I'll be back with a "recommended" tag.

Dan Gemeinhart's SOME KIND OF COURAGE

Way back in January or February, a reader wrote to ask me about Dan Gemeinhart's Some Kind of Courage. I put it into my "Debbie--have you seen" series and am glad to be able to return to it, today, with this review. 

First, the synopsis: 

Joseph Johnson has lost just about everyone he's ever loved. He lost his pa in an accident. He lost his ma and his little sister to sickness. And now, he's lost his pony--fast, fierce, beautiful Sarah, taken away by a man who had no right to take her.

Joseph can sure enough get her back, though. The odds are stacked against him, but he isn't about to give up. He will face down deadly animals, dangerous men, and the fury of nature itself on his quest to be reunited with the only family he has left.

Because Joseph Johnson may have lost just about everything. But he hasn't lost hope. And he hasn't lost the fire in his belly that says he's getting his Sarah back--no matter what.

Not a word, in that synopsis, about Native people, but if you look at the summary in WorldCat, you see this:

In 1890 Washington the only family Joseph Johnson has left is his half-wild Indian pony, Sarah, so when she is sold by a man who has no right to do so, he sets out to get her back--and he plans to let nothing stop him in his quest.

See? "Half-wild Indian pony." The story begins in 1890 in a place called Old Mission, Washington. As the synopsis and summary tell us, Some Kind of Courage is about a boy who is going to try to get his horse back. 

Here's how we first learn about Joseph's pony (Kindle Locations 302-303):

She’s half Indian pony, so she’s got some spirit, but she ain’t nothing but perfect with me.

Later, we'll read of her being a "half wild Indian pony" (Kindle 2043). Indian ponies appear in Westerns all the time. I've never figured out why they're "ponies" rather than "horses" -- and while I understand they had more endurance than other horses, I'm not sure why--in Some Kind of Courage--an Indian pony would have more spirit or be called "wild." That's a small point, though, so I won't go on about it.

Of greater interest to me is that Joseph has been taught, by his now-deceased mother, not to use or think "Chinaman" about Chinese people. That, he remembers, is wrong (Kindle Locations 210-216):

Chinaman. I heard the word in my mind, then my mama’s voice. I’d said it once, the year before, after we’d passed a group of Chinese on the road to Yakima. 

I’d been confused. Everyone called them Chinamen. I didn’t know there was another word for ’em. 

“It ain’t a curse word, Mama,” I’d argued. 

She’d pursed her lips. “Any word can be an ugly word if you say it ugly. And people say that word ugly, Joseph, nearly every time. It sounds hateful and I don’t like it. They’re people just like us, at the end of the day. In the Lord’s eyes, if not in His people’s.”

His mother, apparently, has awareness of stereotyping and racism. They're people, she tells Joseph. But she doesn't seem to have applied those ideas to Native peoples. In chapter six, Joseph and Ah-nee hear voices. They turn out to be two Indian children (Kindle Locations 527-531):

It was Indians. Two of ’em. A boy, older and taller than me, his bare arms taut with muscles. And a girl, five or six years old, with her arms around him and a terrified look on her face. The boy’s eyes narrowed. He bared his teeth like a wolf and snarled a word low and mean in his native tongue. A shaft of sunlight through the treetops gleamed on the long knife blade held in his hand as he ducked into a crouch and lunged toward me.

Bared his teeth like a wolf? Hmmm...

As we move into chapter seven, we read "the Indian" a bunch of times. When Joseph and the boy scuffle, Joseph thinks that he's in the grip of "an actual, real-life Indian" and he worries that he's going to get scalped. Is it realistic for him to think that way? Sure. Just like it was realistic for him to think "Chinaman" when he saw Chinese people. I wonder why his mother did not pass along any teachings about how to view Native people? Does it seem to you that she couldn't, because it wasn't plausible for her to think that way about Native people, but, that it is plausible she'd think that way about Chinese people? I don't know. That's a research question, for sure!

That Indian boy has a broken ankle. With Joseph and Ah-nee's help, the boy gets back to his family. They are, of course, grateful to Joseph. I like that, as Joseph looks at their camp, he sees kids chasing each other and playing. So often, Native children are absent from stories like this one! That little bit, there, is a big plus!

But, then, we're right back to stereotype land, when three Indian men approach Kindle Locations 603-604):

Their faces were deadly serious as they stood before us, looking like they were carved out of dark stone.

The Indian boy, it turns out, is the son of a chief! His name? "Chief George." We get "chief" and "scalp" and "the Indian" (lots of times) and stoicism... and no tribe--much less--a tribal nation.

People like Gemeinhart's story. It was part of the discussions at Heavy Medal (School Library Journal's blog where people engage in mock-Newbery discussions ahead of the actual announcements of who wins that prestigious award). I think it falls heavily into stereotypical depictions of Native people. Because people like it, it will be bought and read and assigned, too, to children in school.

People may defend it because of the way that Gemeinhart deals with "Chinaman." For me, that defense will signal another time in which Native concerns are set aside in favor of what an author has done to elevate someone else. When will that sort of thing end, I wonder?

In short: I do not recommend Dan Gemeinhart's Some Kind of Courage. Published in 2016 by Scholastic, it'll likely do quite well, which is too bad for everyone who will have stereotypical ideas of Native peoples affirmed by Gemeinhart's writing. And of course, completely unacceptable for Native kids who are asked to read it.

Highly recommended: TALES OF THE MIGHTY CODE TALKERS

Eds. note: This graphic novel--like many in the genre--can be used with a wide range of ages, from students in middle grade, on up to college. 

Comics! Graphic novels! Are you reading them? You should be! They're outstanding... for what you can learn about!

Years ago, I learned about the Code Talkers. I don't recall when or how, but I knew about them. With each year, a growing number of Americans are learning about who they were, and their role in WWI and WWII.

A few years ago, I started reading about comic books--written by Native people--about Code Talkers. Then, I got a couple of those comic books and was deeply moved by what I read.

The two that I read (described below) are in Volume One of Tales of the Mighty Code Talkers. Given the popularity of graphic novels, Tales of the Mighty Code Talkers is an excellent way for teens to learn about the Code Talkers--from people who are Native.

Back in June of 2014, I wrote about Arigon Starr's Annumpa Luma--Code Talkers about Choctaw code talkers from WWI. It was a stand-alone, then, and is now one of the many stories in Volume One. An image from Annumpa Luma stayed with me. Here it is:

From Annumpa Luma by Arigon Starr

That page warms my heart. So many of my relatives were--and are--in the service. They are people whose ancestors fought to protect their families and homelands.  The code talkers, like soldiers everywhere, were/are... husbands. Wives. Parents. Children... on homelands, or, carrying those homelands in their hearts.

That seemingly obvious fact is brought forth in the stories in Tales of the Mighty Code Talkers. 

In the prologue--Homeplace--we read the words of Lee Francis III. He founded Wordcraft Circle in 1992 to promote the work of Native writers and storytellers. He passed away in 2003. Where, I wondered, was Homeplace first published? After poking around a bit, I found it in his son's doctoral dissertation. That son, Lee Francis IV, founded Native Realities Press. Tales of the Mighty Code Talkers is published by that press. Knowing all this gives this collection depth and a quality that is hard to put into words. It is something to do with family, community, nation, conflict, commitment, perseverance... shimmering, with love.

~~~~~   

After Homeplace, is Roy Boney's We Speak in Secret, which I read/reviewed as a stand-alone in December of 2014 and Arigon Starr's Anuuma Luma. They're followed by several others that expand what we know. Did you know, for example, that Native women were in those wars? That may seem obvious, too, but one story in Tales of the Mighty Code Talker focuses on a Native woman.

Code: Love by Lee Francis IV is about Sheila, a Kiowa woman who is a nurse. A soldier is brought to the field hospital where she's working. His eyes are bandaged. She's walking past and hears him call out for tohn. She approaches his bed, but a guard stops her because that soldier is "some sort of radio man. Command wants him under guard." Sheila's mind goes back home--to Anadarko, Oklahoma--as she remembers a boyfriend who enlisted in the war. This injured soldier, we understand, is a Native man speaking his language, and thinking of his own home. Of course, Sheila figures out a way to get him some water.

Each story in Tales of the Mighty Code Talkers is memorable. 

I highly recommend it to teachers, everywhere. 

Libraries ought to get several copies. 

The closing pages include a lesson plan, a history of the Code Talkers, a bibliography, and biographies of the writers whose work is in the book. Here's the cover, and the Table of Contents:

• Forward, by Geary Hobson
• Publisher's Note, by Lee Francis IV
• Prologue, written by Lee Francis III; artwork by Arigon Starr
• We Speak in Secret, written and illustrated by Roy Boney, Jr.
• Annumpa Luma: Code Talker, written and illustrated by Arigon Starr
• Code: Love, written by Lee Francis IV; illustrated by Arigon Starr
• PFC Joe, written and illustrated by Jonathan Nelson; Additional colors and letters by Arigon Starr
• Mission: Alaska, written and illustrated by Johnnie Diacon; Colors and letters by Arigon Starr
• Trade Secrets, Pencils and Inks by Theo Tso; Story, color, and letters by Arigon Starr
• Korean War Caddo, original story concept by Michael Sheyahshe; Story, art, color and letters by Arigon Starr
• Epilogue, illustrated by Renee Nejo; written by Arigon Starr
• The History of the Code Talkers, by Lee Francis IV
• Coding Stories, by Lee Francis IV, illustrated by Weshoyot Alvitre
• Bibliography
• Editor's Note
• Biographies

~~~~~

Native America Calling's segment on December 14 was all about Tales of the Mighty Code Talkers. One of the early callers was a Tlingit man, calling in from Alaska, to say that there were Tlingit code talkers, too. In response to his call, Arigon Starr said that his story is precisely why Tales of the Mighty Code Talkers is subtitled "Volume One."

There's more to know. I look forward to Volume Two. In the meantime, get several copies of Volume One, directly, from Native Realities Press.

Worry and Wonder, by Marcie Rendon, in SKY BLUE WATER: GREAT STORIES FOR YOUNG READERS

Marcie Rendon's "Worry and Wonder" is a short story in Sky Blue Water: Great Stories for Young Readers, edited by Jay D. Peterson and Collette A. Morgan. Here's a screen cap of the cover and a partial listing of the Table of Contents:

Published in 2016 by the University of Minnesota Press, Worry and Wonder is one of those stories where a character is going to be with me for a long time. I could call Worry and Wonder a story about the Indian Child Welfare Act--or, "ick waa waa." That's what Amy is calling it when the story opens. She's a seventh grader, sitting in her social studies class, doodling "ick waa waa" on her notebook as her teacher talks about the environment, and the importance of water.

Amy's  thinking back to the day before, when she'd been in court and the judge said she'd have to wait another three months before going to live with her dad. Amy's "ick waa waa" and images she draws by those words capture her frustration with ICWA. In those three months, however, she spends more and more time with her dad.

Are you wondering about ICWA? In the story, Amy's dad tells her about it:

He explained that ICWA stood for the Indian Child Welfare Act. He told her how in the 1950s and 1960s Indian children were taken from their families and placed with white families. How those children had grown up and fought to have federal legislation passed so that Indian kids, if they needed to be placed in foster care, would be placed with Indian families, like the home Amy was in, and how it was federal law, tribal law, that the courts and the tribes had to try and find immediate family for children to be reunited with, which is why the courts had found him and told him to come home to raise Amy.

Some of you know that ICWA was in the news in 2016. Five years ago, a Choctaw child was placed with a white foster home in California. Since then, her Choctaw father had been trying to get her back, but the white family had been fighting to keep her. In the end, her father prevailed. In March, when child services went to pick up the six-year-old child, the home was surrounded by media and protestors who thought the white family ought to be able to keep her. That family turned the case into a media frenzy, with one major news source after another misrepresenting ICWA, tribal sovereignty, and tribal citizenship. Right around then, I read Emily Henry's The Love That Split the World. In it, a white couple finds a work-around to ICWA and adopts a Native infant. That character's Native identity is central to that story, which draws heavily from a wide range of unattributed an detribalized Native stories that guide that character. As you may surmise, I do not recommend Henry's novel.

The case of the Choctaw child and Emily Henry's young adult novel were in my head as I started reading Rendon's story of Amy.

Rendon--who is White Earth Anishinabe--gives us a story that doesn't misrepresent ICWA or Native identity, or nationhood. My heart ached for Amy as I read, and it soared, too. Rendon's story is infused with Native content. Some, like the water ceremony, are explicit. That part of the story is sure to tug on the heart strings of those who are following the Standing Rock Sioux Tribe's fight to protect their water from Big Oil. There are other things in the story, too, that Native readers will discern.

Rendon's Worry and Wonder 

is filled with mirrors for Native readers. 

From start to finish, Rendon's short story is deeply touching. I highly recommend it and look forward to more from her. In my not-yet read pile is Murder on the Red River, due out in 2017 from Cinco Puntos Press. It may be one of the books I'll recommend as a crossover (marketed to adults, but one that teens will enjoy).

Above I showed you a partial listing of the Table of Contents. I've yet to read Anne Ursu's story, but I look forward to it. Her character, Oscar, in The Real Boy is like Amy. In my heart. Get a copy of Sky Blue Water. 

Richard Van Camp's SPIRIT

If you follow Native news, you know that suicide rates in our communities are high. Here's a table from a 2015 report by the Center for Disease Control:

That is data for the U.S. If you do an internet search, you'll find news stories about youth suicides in Canada.

Richard Van Camp's Spirit is--as he said in a tweet in September of 2016--a suicide prevention comic book.

It opens with a mom, shucking corn. Nearby, a baby is sleeping. That baby's spirit rises from its body, and flies out the window, and over several pages, we see the baby fly over a Native community of kids and elders. She flies to a house where, inside, a young man in tears is reaching for pills. He looks up, surprised to see her, and drops the pills, and holds her to him. On the next page, we see people gathered round a table, praying. The door opens, and in walks the young man. They call out "Surprise!" together. They're having a feast for him, because they know he's having a rough time. His grandfather gives him some snowshoes and talks about going to their cabin. His grandmother tells him a story about his birth.

His Native family and community, in short, have gathered to help him. With its Native content, it is a powerful message about Native community. While it is crucial that teachers and librarians have books like Spirit in their collections, it is also important to remember that--unless you've got training to work with someone who is contemplating suicide--you may not be the right person to help.

Spirit is published by the South Slave Divisional Education Council, which serves several First Nations communities. It is available in several different First Nations languages. I've written to Richard to ask where people can buy it. As soon as I hear back, I'll add that information, here.

Recommended! Darryl Baker's KAMIK JOINS THE PACK

Kamik Joins the Pack was in my mail today. Adapted from the memories of Darryl Baker, who is Inuit, the story is the third in Inhabit Media's series featuring Jake and his pup, Kamik.

I first met Kamik in 2013, in Kamik: An Inuit Puppy Story. Jake had just gotten him. Course, Kamik has all the bountiful energy of a puppy---and Jake has all the frustration of a little boy trying to teach him this or that. Jake's grandpa helps him out, giving him perspective, and stories, too, about the importance of sled dogs. Then in 2015, Kamik's First Sled came out. In it, Jake wants Kamik to learn how to pull a sled. His grandma helps him.

This year, in Kamik Joins the Pack, Jake is visiting his uncle. That uncle has a great dog sled team and has won many races. Jake hopes that, someday, Kamik can be on a team like that. He's still a pup, and still learning.

Jake's uncle is getting ready to take his team out. He shows Kamik some of the things he does to make sure his dogs are in good shape. And he tells Jake about things dogs will do--like chewing on the harnesses and ropes. Knowing how to sew and braid so that he can repair chewed up ropes and harnesses, is important, too! There's other responsibilities, too. It seems like a lot of work to Jake, but his uncle is reassuring. Like Kamik, he'll learn, a bit at a time. As the story ends, Kamik is off, on a short run, with the pack.

As with the other Kamik books, I love the present-day setting, and the significant role extended family members play in Jake's life. In each one, Qin Leng's illustrations are vivid and lively. Endearing and accurate, the Kamik stories are terrific. If you don't have the first two, get them right away when you get Kamik Joins the Pack. As I'm writing, snow is falling outside. It is falling in a good many places in the US... it is wintertime! Perfect time for sharing stories.... about puppies and sleds.

Not recommended: INDEH: A STORY OF THE APACHE WARS by Ethan Hawke and Greg Ruth

Eds. note on Dec 16, 2016: Please scroll down to see Greg Ruth's response to my review. In turn, I responded to him.
______________________________

I've received several questions about Indeh: A Story of the Apache Wars by Ethan Hawke and Greg Ruth.

Published by Hachette Book Group in 2016, this graphic novel wasn't published for, or marketed to, children or young adults. That said, we know that teens read a lot of things that wasn't necessarily meant for them. There are awards, too (like the American Library Association's Alex Award) for books regarded as "crossover" ones--which cross over from the adult to the teen market.

Teachers and librarians are asking if Indeh can be used in high school classrooms. Short answer? No.

Generally, reviews on American Indians in Children's Literature are specific to accuracy of content which, in my view, makes them suitable for teachers to use when they develop lessons or select books to read aloud in their classrooms.

The questions I'm getting suggest that teachers wonder if there's enough accuracy in Indeh to use it to teach about the Apache wars. It may also be coming from teachers who know that graphic novels are a hit with teens and that Indeh may work well with teens who are reluctant readers.

Again--my answer is no. It isn't accurate (more on that, later). There's another interesting factor to consider.

Hawke's Use of Geronimo's Words

As I started reading Indeh, I pulled out the resources I use when doing book reviews. I had Indeh in one window (I use a Kindle app on my computer) and in another window, I had a copy of Geronimo's Story of His Life which was "taken down and edited by S. M. Barrett." He was the Superintendent of Education in Lawton, Oklahoma and the contents of this book were told to him by Geronimo. The first pages in it are devoted to copies of letters that went back and forth between several people involved in authorizing Geronimo to tell his story. It was published in 1906 by Duffield & Company in New York.

Right away, I hit the pause button in my reading. Here's a screen cap comparing the opening lines of Hawke's book (on top), and Barrett's (on the bottom):

This paraphrasing happens in several places in the book. (Note: In response to those who asked to see the other examples, I've added three, at the bottom of the post.) In the afterword, Hawke tells us that Once They Moved Like the Wind by David Roberts inspired him to write Indeh. Though Hawke includes Barrett's book in the "for further reading" section, I think he should have written about Barrett's book in that afterword because of passages like that shown above. This happens later, too. A big deal? Or not?

I'm noting it because--in the afterword--Hawke talks about appropriation (p. 228):

The Apache Wars are a vital part of our American history that needs to be told in a way that honestly appreciates and integrates, rather than appropriates, Native American history.

Hawke's use of the word is odd. What does he mean? I could say that, in using Barrett like he did, he's appropriating Geronimo's words. Is that a form of appropriation?

That said, my primary concern is with the accuracy. First, let's look at what Hawke sets out to do with Indeh.

Hawke's Intent

In his Afterword, Hawke recounts a story from his childhood. His parents had divorced, and his dad took him on a camping trip. They were somewhere near the Arizona/New Mexico border when (p. 227):

An old man waved us down from the center of the two-lane road--the only living thing as far as my eyes could see. I heard him say in an unfamiliar cadence, "You are not supposed to be here."

The old man told them they're lucky it was him that found them (he looked directly at 8-year-old Hawke when he said that, and that old man's eyes stayed with Hawke). Hawke's dad turned the car around. Hawke asked his dad what happened.

My father explained what an Indian reservation was, what an Apache was, how we really shouldn't have been there at all, and how lucky he was not to have gotten his ass kicked.

Hawke asked what the old man meant about them being lucky he's the one who had found them.

My father told me, "Many of the Indians are very angry. And they damn well should be." 

Hawke asks if they're mad at him (he doesn't tell us if his dad responded to that question). From then on, he started buying and reading books about Geronimo, Cochise, Victorio, and Lozen. From those books, he says he saw that

...the cowboy movies I'd always loved took on a different hue. They were full of lies. Those gunfights weren't cool, heroic frays--they were slaughters.

All that made me pause. Hawke was born in 1970. So, he was out there on that two-lane road in 1978. My guess is that they were on either the Fort Apache Reservation, or, on the San Carlos Reservation. Though the reservations are under the jurisdiction of their respective governments, they aren't closed to others. There are times when we close off the roads to outsiders, but that doesn't sound like what happened to Hawke. Who was that old guy?! The "should not have been there" portion of Hawke's story sounds... dramatic. I'm not saying it didn't happen; I'm just wondering who the old guy was. Part of me thinks Hawke and his dad got punked! On the other hand, it is possible that the man was home after having spent time with the Native activists doing activist work at Alcatraz in 1969, at the Bureau of Indian Affairs offices in Washington DC in 1972, or Wounded Knee in 1973.

Anyway, Hawke goes on to talk about his adulthood... working in Alaska with Native actors, and watching Smoke Signals and Powwow Highway, and reading one of Sherman Alexie's books. Hawke writes that (p. 228):

The story [of the Apache wars] needs to be told again and again until the names of Geronimo and Cochise are as familiar to young American ears as Washington and Lincoln.

Can I do a "well, actually" here? I think Geronimo IS one of names Americans -- young and old -- are familiar with. Do you remember that "Geronimo" was the code name the US military used for Bin Laden? Do your kids yell "Geronimo!" when they are doing something they think is courageous?

He, I think, is far more visible than Hawke suggests.

I did a search in WorldCat, using Geronimo, and found 26,964 items in the nonfiction category, which is a lot more than the 9,028 items for Sitting Bull and the 4,669 items for Crazy Horse.  (Note: There are 413,469 items for Washington, and 80,501 items for Lincoln.) In its We Shall Remain series (consisting of 5 episodes), PBS did an entire segment on Geronimo. There are more movies with or about Geronimo than any other Native person. I think he's the most well-known Native person.

Hawke's afterword suggests that his goal, with Indeh, is to tell a story that counters the biased stories and movies he saw as a child. Does he succeed?

Short answer: No. In plain text below are summaries from Indeh. My comments are in italics.

Hawke Makes Serious Errors

Part One of Hawke's book is called "A Blessing and a Curse." The story opens with Cochise recounting the Apache creation story to his son, Naiches and to Goyahkla (who will later be known by the name, Geronimo), both of whom are young boys. The blessing and curse is Cochise's power to see the future. Cochise tells the boys that their lives will be hard... and then there's an abrupt shift forward in time, to Goyahkla, seventeen years later. He sits in the midst of a massacre. While he and most of the other men were away, trading, Mexican soldiers attacked their camp. Amongst the dead are Goyahkla's mother, his wife (Alope), and their three children. Naiches--who is narrating the story--tells him they can't stay to bury the dead, but Goyahkla doesn't listen to Naiches.

Debbie's comments: Hawke's telling suggests that Naiches is in charge. Barrett says that it is Mangus-Colorado who was in charge and that it was he who said that they had to leave the dead on the field, unburied. Roberts (Hawke's primary source) says it was Mangas. The date of that massacre, Roberts writes, was March 5, 1851.

In his grief, he remembers when he went to Alope's father to ask if he could marry her. Alope's father asked him for "one hundred ponies" (p. 11). One hundred ponies sounds cool, but I think the "one hundred" is Hawk's flourish. Historians note that Alope's father asked for ponies, but nobody says "one hundred". A small point of inaccuracy? No. When there's such a body of misinformation about someone, it does nobody any good to add to that body of misinformation.

Goyahkla carries Alope's body to their wickiup (in Indeh, the word Hawke uses is "wikiup" which is incorrect). He remembers telling his son a story, and carries his son's body to the wickiup. He remembers his daughter's first menstrual period, and carries her body to the wickiup, too. He lights the wickiup on fire.

Debbie's comments: That is not accurate. They left the bodies and returned to their settlement. There, Goyahkla burned their tipi and all their belongings. That is when he "vowed vengeance upon the Mexican troopers who had wronged me" (Barrett, p. 76).  

Then, Hawke tells us, an eagle appears on top of the wickiup. It tells him that bullets will never hurt him.

Debbie's comments: That did not happen at their camp. It happened later, elsewhere. 

Naiches and others are on horses, waiting. Goyahkla approaches them, the burning wickiup behind him. His words to them hint at the vengeance he will seek. He tells them he will visit other Apache tribes to ask them to join him in avenging their families. He carries out the visits and gathers others who will fight with them. Naiches hopes that the upcoming battle will give Goyahkla peace.

Debbie's comments: That decision to strike back was made--not by Goyahkla--but by Mangus-Colorado. Goyahkla was appointed to go to the other Apaches and ask them to join them in this battle against Mexico.

In the next panels, Goyahkla leads the others in an attack on a Mexican town. There is one small box of text: "There would be no peace" (p. 34-35) that captures what Naiches thinks their future will be. In the foreground is a young girl falling over, with a spear that has been thrust through her chest. On all fours, a few feet away, is a little boy, with a spear in his back. Naiches looks on Goyahkla and thinks his face tells of a new time for the Apaches. In Goyahkla's face there is no pity as he kills the people of the Mexican village. There are no tears, or regret, or joy. In one panel, a sign reads (p. 38-39):

CABALLERAS

APACHE

HOMBRES 5 pesos

MUJERES 3 pesos

NINOS 1 peso

Debbie's comments: That horrific scene is not accurate. I'll say more about that shortly. Regarding the sign, I think "caballeras" is meant to mean warrior. The figures on the sign aren't accurate. Roberts (Hawke's main source) says that the bounty on Apache scalps was 200 pesos for a man, and 150 for a woman or child. Because the sign is an illustration, perhaps the error is Ruth's, not Hawke's. 

On Dec 14, 2016, David Bowles, author of the Garza Twins series (The Smoking Mirror is a Pure Belpre Honor Book) wrote to tell me that "caballeras" is a spelling error. It should be "cabelleras" which means scalps. His note gives me an opportunity to say a bit more about scalping. Though it is widely seen as something that Native people did, bounties were financed by governments. In her book, Angie Debo writes that, in 1835, the Mexican state of Sonora passed a law that offered 100 pesos for every scalp of an Apache warrior. In 1880, Mexican soldiers attacked an Apache camp, and took scalps of 62 men, and sixteen women and children. The city of Chihuahua welcomed them them back. Cost to the government was $50,000. The soldiers brought with them 68 women and children who were subsequently sold into slavery. 
  
The sign is thrust into the chest of a man, lying prone, presumably killed by Goyahkla. Beside his body, Goyahkla is scalping a woman who cries out (p. 38-39):

 "Por favor. Dios me libre!" 

Debbie's comments: Hawke's depiction of this battle, overall, raises many questions. Barrett, Debo, and Roberts (Hawke's primary source) do not write about it the way Hawke does. They write that the attack was against Mexican soldiers (two companies of cavalry and one of infantry)--outside of a Mexican city called Arispe (or Arizpe). 

There was no attack of the kind that Hawke depicts. Rather than bring "honesty" (he used that word in his Afterword) to this story, Hawke has created violent, brutal, misinformation that he is, in effect, adding to that already huge body of misinformation about Geronimo and the Apaches! At that point in Indeh, I am able to say that teachers cannot---indeed, teachers must not---use this book in a classroom to teach history of the Apache people. 

As Naiches watches Goyahkla in the village, he learns what Goyahkla's new name will be: Geronimo. In the village is a banner that reads "LA FIESTA DE SAN JERONIMO." As Goyahkla moves through the village violently killing Mexicans (he beheads one), some Mexicans call out to San Jeronimo. One of the Apache's calls out to Goyahkla "Santo Geronimo" - and, Hawke tells us, that is how Goyahkla came to be known as Geronimo.

Debbie's comments: In a footnote, Barrett writes that the Mexicans at the battle called him Geronimo but does not offer an explanation. In her book, Debo writes that the Mexicans in that battle may have been trying to say his given name (Goyahkla) and that it came out sounding as if they were saying "Geronimo" or that they were calling out to St. Jerome.   

My primary concern is about accuracy. 

There's some small problems with inaccurate information in Part I of Hawke's graphic novel. Of utmost significance, however, is his misrepresentation of the fight that took place after his family was murdered by Mexican soldiers. Hawke's depiction is inaccurate, and it flies in the face of what I understand of Hawke's goal. It seems to me he wanted to correct the narrative of Apache's as blood thirsty savages (my words, not his), but he does the opposite. He affirms existing stereotypes and misinformation, and adds to the image of Geronimo as a savage. The information he passes along is not in his primary source, or in those that are more widely read (some are on his list of further readings). Why did Hawke do this?! 

Bottom line? 

I do not recommend Indeh 
for use in classrooms. 

A colleague, Dr. Laura Jimenez, reviewed Indeh, too. She studies graphic novels. See her review. 

Sources I used include:

• Barrett, S. M. (1906). Geronimo's Story of His Life. New York: Duffield & Co.
• Debo, Angie. (1976). Geronimo: The Man, His Time, His Place. University of Oklahoma Press.
• Roberts, David. (1994). Once They Moved Like the Wind: Cochise, Geronimo, and the Apache Wars. New York: Simon & Schuster.
• Utley, Robert M. (2012). Geronimo. New Haven: Yale University Press. 

Update, Dec 13 2016, late afternoon:

A couple of people have written to ask me about other examples of the paraphrasing. Some wonder if Hawke has plagiarized Barrett. Here's three other passages from my notes (sometimes I make tables as I read through texts):

Update: Friday, December 16, 2016

On the Amazon page for Indeh, I posted a brief review and a link to this page. There, I said this:

Hawke meant well. He had a memorable childhood experience that launched him into reading all he could about the Apaches. He tried to make a film about them but ended up doing this graphic novel, instead. Though it is not marketed to teens, teachers wonder if they can use it in their classrooms.

In short? No. In an especially violent series, Hawke and Ruth depict Geronimo and Apaches in a town, impaling women and children on spears, and beheading a man. Another woman is scalped.

None of that is true.

That particular attack was actually one in which the Apaches sought a battle with Mexican infantry who had entered an Apache camp and murdered Geronimo's mother, wife, and two children. Much of America thinks the Apaches were mindless, blood-thirsty murderers. Hawke contributes to that narrative. There are other errors, too. As such, it cannot be used to teach about the Apache people.

A full review here: [...]

Greg Ruth, one of the authors of Indeh responded to my review on Amazon. Here's a screen capture of his remarks:

I think Ruth is defending the book, overall. I am focused on the attack that took place after the Mexican soldiers entered an Apache camp and killed women and children there, including Geronimo's mother, wife, and children. Here's quotes from three sources, one of which Hawke names as his primary source.

Barrett, S. M. (1906). Geronimo's Story of His Life: Taken Down and Edited by S. M. Barrett. New York: Duffield and Company.

When we were almost at Arispe we camped, and eight men rode out from the city to parley with us. These we captured, killed, and scalped. This was to draw the troops from the city, and the next day they came. The skirmishing lasted all day without a general engagement, but just at night we captured their supply train, so we had plenty of provisions and some more guns.

That night we posted sentinels and did not move our camp, but rested quietly all night, for we expected heavy work the next day. Early the next morning the warriors were assembled to pray--not for help, but that they might have health and avoid ambush or deceptions by the enemy.

As we had anticipated, about ten o'clock in the morning the whole Mexican force came out. There were two companies of cavalry and two of infantry. I recognized the cavalry as the soldiers who had killed my people at Kaskiyeh. This I told to the chieftains, and they said that I might direct the battle.

I was no chief and never had been, but because I had been more deeply wronged than others, this honor was conferred upon me, and I resolved to prove worthy of the trust. I arranged the Indians in a hollow circle near the river, and the Mexicans drew their infantry up in two lines, with the cavalry in reserve. We were in timber, and they advanced until within about four hundred yards, when they halted and opened fire. Soon I led a charge against them, at the same time sending some braves to attack their rear. In all the battle I thought of my murdered mother, wife, and babies--of my father's grave and my vow of vengeance, and I fought with fury. Many fell by my hand, and constantly I led the advance. My braves were killed. The battle lasted about two hours.

Debo, Angie. Geronimo: The Man, His Time, His Place (The Civilization of the American Indian Series) (Kindle Locations 685-688). University of Oklahoma Press. Kindle Edition.

They went south through Sonora, following hidden ways along river courses and through mountains, to Arispe. (They seemed to know that the military force that had ravaged their camp was stationed there.) Troops from the city came out to meet them, and there was some skirmishing. The following day the whole Mexican force—two companies of cavalry and two of infantry—came out to attack. A pitched battle followed, a departure from the usual Apache ambush from a hidden position. Geronimo, because he had suffered so much from these same soldiers, was allowed to direct the fighting. (This is his story, and it may well be true.) He arranged his warriors in a crescent in the timber near the river, and the Mexican infantry advanced towards them and opened fire. Geronimo led a charge against them, at the same time extending his crescent to outflank and encircle them and attack from the rear. (At least, that seems to be his meaning.) The battle lasted about two hours, the Apaches fighting with bows and arrows and in close quarters with their spears. Many of them were killed, but when the fight ended they were in complete possession of a field strewn with Mexican dead. It was here, according to tradition, that Goyahkla received the name Geronimo.

Roberts, David. ONCE THEY MOVED LIKE THE WIND: COCHISE, GERONIMO, (Kindle Locations 1674-1692). Simon & Schuster. Kindle Edition.

Near Arizpe, one of the few important towns in northern Sonora, the party camped. Eight Mexicans rode out from town to parley: the Apaches seized and killed them on the spot. “This was to draw the troops from the city,” recalled Geronimo, “and the next day they came.” An all-day skirmish was inconclusive, but the Indians managed to capture the Mexican supply train, greatly augmenting their store of guns and ammunition. 

The pitched battle— a rarity for Apaches— took place the following day: some two hundred Chiricahuas against one hundred Mexican soldiers representing two companies of cavalry and two of infantry. “I recognized the cavalry as the soldiers who had killed my people at (Janos],” insisted Geronimo. Since he had never seen the soldiers who perpetrated the massacre of his family, this claim may seem dubious. Yet keen-eyed survivors could have described the attackers to Geronimo in such detail that he could recognize their horses and uniforms when he saw them. 

Because of the magnitude of his personal loss, Geronimo was allowed to direct the battle against the Mexican soldiers. He arranged the Apaches in a hollow circle among trees beside a river. The Mexicans advanced to within four hundred yards, cavalry ranged behind infantry. Armed with the vision that bullets could not kill him, Geronimo led a charge. “In all the battle I thought of my murdered mother, wife, and babies— of… my vow of vengeance, and I fought with fury. Many fell by my hand.” 

The battle lasted two hours. At its climax, Geronimo stood at the Apache vanguard, in a clearing with only three other warriors. They had no rifles; they had shot all their arrows and used up their spears killing Mexicans: “We had only our hands and knives with which to fight.” Suddenly a new contingent of Mexicans arrived, guns blazing. Two of Geronimo’s comrades fell; Geronimo and the other ran toward the Apache line. In step beside him, the other Apache was cut down by a Mexican sword. Reaching the line of warriors, Geronimo seized a spear and whirled. The Mexican pursuing him fired and missed, just as Geronimo’s spear pierced his body. In an instant Geronimo seized the dead soldier’s sword and used it to hold off the Mexican who had killed his companion. The two grappled and fell to the earth; Geronimo raised his knife and struck home. Then he leapt to his feet, waving the dead soldier’s sword in defiance, looking for more Mexicans to kill. The remainder had fled.

Below are two pages that show how Hawke and Ruth depict it. Clearly, they set the attack in a town. See the children impaled with spears?

Here's another page Hawke and Ruth did, depicting that attack:

I stand by my critique that Hawke and Ruth misrepresented what happened.

Not recommended: POCAHONTAS by Ingri and Edgar Parin d'Aulaire

A reader wrote to ask me about Pocahontas by Ingri and Edgar Parin D'Aulaire. It came out in 1946, which might seem like it is so old that you can't get it... but you can. It is still in print. It is one of those books (there are many!) that gets printed again and again. It is one of those books that I look at and turn away from. It is one of those subjects (Pocahontas) that wears me out.

So, this is a quick reply about the D'Aulaire's Pocahontas. I do not recommend it. It has the word "squaw" in it. It shows men, sitting with their arms crossed up high and away from their chest, which is a stereotypical way of showing Native men. It uses "princess" to describe her. There's problems with the accuracy, too. If you are interested in an essay about how she is depicted in children's books and the Disney film, too, see Cornel Pewewardy's The Pocahontas Paradox: A Cautionary Tale for Educators.

Recommended! THE WOOL OF JONESY by Jonathan Nelson

Jonathan Nelson's The Woolf of Jonesy: Part I is a treat!

In some ways it is (for me) a mirror. See... I grew up on the Nambe Indian reservation in northern New Mexico. As I gaze at the cover, I see a cool dude (that's Jonesy--he's a sheep) sitting on... something (more on that later). He's holding a flip style phone. On the ground is a little red wagon with bent wheels and a backpack. Behind him is... (imagine me exclaiming) a barbed wire fence and a cattleguard! Silly? Not to me! And certainly not to anyone who grew up on a reservation. Or a ranch, somewhere.

Here. Take a look yourself:

Here's how the story starts out: Jonesy has just finished high school. It is springtime. The story opens with Jonesy asleep... and it is getting hot... He doesn't want to get up. Sound familiar?! He reaches over, turns on the electric fan, drifts off again, and the fan quits. He hauls himself out of bed.

Some of Nelson's work on Jonesy was on display at the Heard Museum in Arizona, in 2015. The first three rows in this panel are similar to what ended up in The Wool of Jonesy. Nelson has since expanded the last row (remember this panel was exhibited in 2015):

Source: Heard Museum http://heard.org/event/comic-workshop-071715/

Compare the sleeping Jonesy in the panel to the Jonesy on the cover... he does, indeed, as that last row shows us, shave his wool. The story then, is his efforts to get that wool to the trading post, where he plans to sell it. At the end of the story, Jonesy is back home, waking up, his bag of wool nearby.

As you see in that panel, there is no text. The Wool of Jonesy is a wordless comic. Readers use the images to create the story, themselves. It is like Owly. If you're new to wordless comics, or comics in general, take a look at Gene Yang's Graphic Novels in the Classroom from the January 2008 issue of Language Arts. 

I am pretty sure that I know some librarians and teachers who would love to have this book... As I study it, I see all kinds of things I love (example: it is set in the present day).

What is Jonesy going to do... in Part II?!

The Wool of Jonesy came out in 2016 from Native Realities. Get your copy directly from Native Realities. Heck! Get two copies and give one to a friend or a kid you know! I highly recommend it!

Oh! Follow Nelson on Twitter https://twitter.com/badwinds and check out his website.

Not recommended: NATIVE AMERICAN STORY BOOK(s) by G.W. Mullins

I've had a couple queries lately, from people asking me about a "Native American Story Book" series by G. W. Mullins.

It is easy to say "not recommended" to the series.

Mullins dedicates Volume Three to his grandfather, Vince Mullins, "a tall red man." Mullins tells us he is Cherokee. Maybe he is, but his use of "tall red man" reflects a romanticized and stereotypical image. In the introduction, Mullins uses, primarily, past tense. His words there, too, suggest a romantic image.  He says, for example,

"I was born Cherokee and as a child heard many of these stories. These stories were passed to me in the old traditional way of my grandfather."

His grandfather may, indeed, have told him some stories, but, the first story in Volume Three is Longfellow's "The Song of Hiawatha." That is not a Native story! Longfellow made it up. Does Mullins know it isn't a Native story?!

As I glance through others in the book, I see that Mullins is including stories from Native writers, like Zitkala Sa--that he took from her books. He's taken others from government reports. The publisher is "Light of the Moon" and the pub year is 2016. There's a note that says the book is:

"... a collection of Native American works which are public domain." 

I looked through a couple of the others, in his series, and find them problematic for many reasons. I do not know why they're popping up right now, but I definitely do not recommend them.

About THE ANTI-VACCINE KID in BAD LITTLE CHILDREN'S BOOKS

Earlier today (December 2, 2016) I saw a post on Twitter that linked to a Book Riot review of Bad Little Children's Books: Kidlit Parodies, Shameless Spoofs, and Offensively Tweaked Covers by Arthur Gackley. It isn't for kids. Published in September of 2016 for the adult market, people in children's lit are talking about it. The Book Riot review, by Kelly Jensen, is titled It's Not Funny. It's Racist.

Amongst its many racist pages is this one (credit for the image is to Kelly Jensen):

In short, this "parody" is a play on genocidal acts. Native people were given blankets infected with small pox. Tim Tingle's outstanding work of historical fiction, How I Became A Ghost, has that fact in it. Abrams lists "Arthur C. Gackley" as the author of Bad Little Children's Books. I don't know if that is a real person or not. That doesn't matter, though. The point of this particular page is to suggest revenge, with a Native family giving a white kid smallpox, and smiling as they look upon him. That alone is disgusting. Genocidal acts are not the stuff of humor.

Did the people who put this together think that the Indian family they put on the cover is Navajo? Did they use "Navajo" because they've heard about Navajo blankets? Do they realize they've used a stereotypical image to represent the Navajo family? Because this is, ultimately, a book of parody, do any of my questions even matter?!

In short: yes.

In some discussions of the book, I'm seeing that people realize the smallpox part is disgusting, and maybe they think that's enough. But, I think it is also important to note that Abrams is using stereotypical imagery and calling it Navajo.

This book, Abrams, is a despicable failure.

Not recommended: PebbleGo Next

Eds. note: Please scroll down to see additional review content, submitted on December 5, 2016.

In the last few months, I've been getting email from AICL readers who are asking if I've looked at Pebble Go Next database. Here's a description:

PebbleGo Next is the next step in research for students grades 3-6. Launching with a States and American Indian studies module, PebbleGo Next is carefully aligned to grades 3-6 curriculum objectives. The databases is simple to navigate and offer key reading supports such as read-along audio and word-by-word highlighting along with a variety of downloadable, including prompts to inspire critical thinking.

PebbleGo Next is published by Capstone. On their page, they write that they're the leading provider of nonfiction materials for struggling and reluctant readers.

The "American Indian" content of the PebbleGo Next database is arranged in geographical sections, called "Cultural Areas." Framing our nations as cultures is a typical error. We are--first and foremost--nations. A better arrangement would be something like "Tribal Nations in the Southwest" instead of "Southwest Culture Area." Not using our status as nations means that PebbleGo Next has no way to address important facts, like this one: we have jurisdiction over our reservation homelands.

Based on the lack of crucial information 

about our sovereign nation status, 

and what I list below in my close look 

at the Pueblo tab in the "Southwest Culture Area," 

I do not recommend the PebbleGo Next database. 

Introduction

The single, most significant error, is the failure to use the word "nation" to describe the Pueblo Nations of the southwestern part of the U.S.

We do not call our ancestors "Anasazi" which means "Ancient Ones." Anasazi is a Navajo word. The best way to refer to our ancestors is...  ancestors.

History

Use of "the Ancient Ones" in "After a drought in the 1300s, the Ancient Ones moved south and built villages along the Rio Grande River" is awkward. Better to say something like "After a drought, the Pueblo peoples moved south and built villages along the Rio Grande River."

The information about Pueblo homelands being "ruled" by Spain from the 1500s to 1821, and Mexico from 1821 to 1848, and then the US from then on, is simplistic. Each of those nations (Spain, Mexico, U.S.) recognized the Pueblo peoples as nations. This was acknowledged by a series of canes, given to Pueblo leaders, by officials of those nations. The last one was from President Lincoln. For reference, see the documentary, Canes of Power.

Use of "Anasazi" in the timeline is incorrect.

The entry for 1680, in the timeline, is incorrect and incomplete. That year (1680), the Pueblo Nations drove the Spanish out of our homelands.

Traditional Homes, Food, and Clothing

All the information is in past tense.

Family Life

All the information is in past tense.

Government

Finally, a page with a present tense word ("Today...") but the information is too broad and some of it is incorrect because of the broad description.

Beliefs

It is good that present tense is used, but why is the section called "Beliefs" rather than Religion? Information, as with the page on Government, is too broad, making some of it incorrect.

Traditions

In the first paragraph, past tense is used to describe traditional dances, ceremonies, and prayer. The second paragraph is written in a way that suggests that we've moved away from that, to doing it for tourists and as "festivals" that we "celebrate throughout the year." That is inaccurate.

Modern Life

The description of our traditional homes "sometimes covered in adobe" is inaccurate. Our traditional homes are made of adobe bricks, and, plastered with adobe mud, and/or stucco.

The information on "jobs" is incomplete. Native people do more than just work in factories, vineyards (?) and uranium mines. Some of us are teachers, lawyers, engineers, librarians.

The line that "many return home to their villages on the weekends" suggests that those with "jobs" can't live in their homes on reservation lands each night, which is not true. Some do, some don't. Written as it is, the suggestion contributes to a perception that our homelands are isolated and stuck in the past, which isn't true.

__________
Update, December 5, 2016

Jenna Wolf, tribally enrolled with the Muscogee Creek Nation, and librarian at Beaver Country Day School in Massachusetts, submitted this review of the Muscogee content at PebbleGo Next:

I have navigated through PebbleGo Next and also found a lot of issues. The section on Muscogee (Creek) Nation fails to mention much about land allotments after the Trail of Tears, and it only briefly mentions the Dawes Act in its timeline; nary any mention of the implications of signing and forced signings thereafter, as well as how its used as a roll now for tribal enrollment. Just a few things I noticed. The history section just MENTIONS the Indian Removal Act and the Trail of Tears, in the timeline only and not in the narrative section. Big mistakes and blaring holes.

I also did a cursory read through some of the other tribes to which I have personal affiliation via friends and family (Navajo, Isleta Pueblo). I was disturbed on a basic level just about the language used--so much past tense BEYOND the history section and many problems with the Modern Life section. Take for instance the section of Navajos--it mentions they are weavers and jewelers but CAN also have other jobs. This is similar to a book I weeded from our collection about the Navajo which said "they even like to wear blue jeans!".

Just wanted to give you some quick feedback about what I noticed.

This would not be a complete or appropriate resource in my opinion.

HarlequinTeen Moves Publication Date for Controversial Young Adult Novel, THE CONTINENT

On November 7, 2016, HarlequinTeen, using their Twitter account, issued a statement regarding Keira Drake's The Continent:

Over the last few days, there has been online discussion about racial stereotypes in connection with one of our upcoming 2016 titles, The Continent, by Keira Drake. 

As the publisher, we take the concerns that have been voiced seriously. We are deeply sorry to have caused offense, as this was never our or the author's intention. We have listened to the criticism and feedback and are working with the author to address the issues that have been raised.

We fully support Keira as a talented author. To ensure that the themes in her book are communicated in the way she planned, we will be moving the publication date.

- HarlequinTeen

HarlequinTeen joins a growing number of publishers, in 2016, who have responded to concerns with stereotypes, bias, or microaggressions in their books. See AICL's log of revisions.

Here's a screen cap of their tweet:

Dear Michael (a letter to Michael Grant about GONE)

Note from Debbie on Nov 20 at 7:30 AM: This "Dear Michael" post is now a conversation between myself and Michael Grant. Here's a Table of Contents. Michael Grant's is submitting his comments/responses to me by email. 

November 17: Debbie's letter to Michael about GONE
November 18: Michael's response (submitted by email on Nov 18)
November 19: Debbie's response
November 20: Michael's response (submitted by email on Nov 19)
November 20: Debbie's response (about erasure)
November 21: Debbie's response (Lana's identity)
November 22: Debbie's note to Michael on dialog
__________ 


November 17, 2016

Dear Michael Grant,

Our conversation yesterday at Jason Low's opinion piece for School Library Journal didn't go well, did it? I entered it, annoyed at what you said last year in your "On Diversity" post. There, you said:

Let me put this right up front: there is no YA or middle grade author of any gender, or of any race, who has put more diversity into more books than me. Period.

Then you had a list where you were more specific about that diversity. Of Native characters, you said:

Native American main character? No. Australian aboriginal main character, but not a Native American. Hmmm.

You do, in fact, have a Native character in Gone. I'd read it but didn't write about it. So when you commented to Jason in the way that you did, I responded as I did, saying you'd erased a Native character right away in one of your books. With that in mind, and your claim that you've done more than anyone regarding diversity, I said you're part of the problem. You wanted to know what book I was talking about. Indeed, you were quite irate in your demands that I name it. You offered to donate $1000 to a charity of my choice if I could name the book. You seemed to think I could not, and that I was slandering you. 

In that long thread, I eventually named the book but you said I was wrong in what I'd said. So, here's a review. I hope it helps you see what I meant, but based on all that I've seen thus far, I'm doubtful. 

Here's a description of the book:

In the blink of an eye, everyone disappears. Gone. Except for the young. There are teens, but not one single adult. Just as suddenly, there are no phones, no internet, no television. No way to get help. And no way to figure out what's happened. Hunger threatens. Bullies rule. A sinister creature lurks. Animals are mutating. And the teens themselves are changing, developing new talents—unimaginable, dangerous, deadly powers—that grow stronger by the day. It's a terrifying new world. Sides are being chosen, a fight is shaping up. Townies against rich kids. Bullies against the weak. Powerful against powerless. And time is running out: on your birthday, you disappear just like everyone else. . . .

Chapter one is set at a school in California. It opens with a character named Sam, who is listening to his teacher talk about the Civil War. Suddenly the teacher is gone. It seems funny at first but then they realize that other teachers are gone, and so is everyone who is 15 years old, or older. In chapter two, Sam, his friend Quinn, and Astrid (she's introduced in chapter one as a smart girl) head home, sure they'll find their parents. They don't. 

Partway through chapter two, you introduce us to Lana Arwen Lazar, who is riding in a truck that is being driven by her, grandfather, Grandpa Luke, who is described as follows (p. 19-20):

He was old, Grandpa Luke. Lots of kids had kind of young grandparents. In fact, Lana’s other grandparents, her Las Vegas grandparents, were much younger. But Grandpa Luke was old in that wrinkled-up-leather kind of way. His face and hands were dark brown, partly from the sun, partly because he was Chumash Indian.

At first, I thought, "cool." You were bringing a tribally specific character into the story! If he's Chumash, then, Lana is, too! There's whole chapters about her. She's a main character. But, you didn't remember her. Or maybe, in your responses at SLJ, you were too irate to remember her?

Anyway, I wasn't keen on the "wrinkled-up-leather" and "dark brown" skin because you're replicating stereotypical ideas about what Native people look like.

As I continued reading, however, it was clear to me that you were just using the Chumash as decoration. You clearly did some research, though. You've got Grandpa Luke, for example, pointing with his chin. Thing is: I've been seeing that a lot. It makes me wonder if white people have a checklist for a Native character that says "make sure the character points with the chin rather than fingers."

Back to chapter two... Grandpa Luke pointed (with his chin) to a hill. Lana tells him she saw a coyote there and he tells her not to worry (p. 20):

“Coyote’s harmless. Mostly. Old brother coyote’s too smart to go messing with humans.” He pronounced coyote “kie-oat.”

Hmmm... Grandpa Luke... teaching Lana about coyote? That sounds a bit... like the chin thing. I'm seeing lot of stories where writers drop in coyote. Is that on a check list, too?

Next, we learn that Lana is with her grandpa because her dad caught her sneaking vodka out of their house to give it to another kid named Tony. Lana defends what she did, saying that Tony would have used a fake ID and that he might have gotten into trouble. Her grandpa says (p. 21):

“No maybe about it. Fifteen-year-old boy drinking booze, he’s going to find trouble. I started drinking when I was your age, fourteen. Thirty years of my life I wasted on the bottle. Sober now for thirty-one years, six months, five days, thank God above and your grandmother, rest her soul.”

Oh-oh. Alcohol? That must be on the checklist, too. I've seen a lot of books wherein a Native character is alcoholic.

Lana teases her grandpa, he laughs, and then the truck veers off the road and crashes. Grandpa Luke is gone. Just like the other adults. Lana lies in the truck, injured. Her dog, Patrick, is with her. The chapter ends and you spend time with the other characters.

His being gone is what I was referring to when I said that you erased him. At SLJ, you strongly objected to me saying that. You interpreted that as me saying you're anti-Native. You said that "every adult is disappeared." That you did that to "African-Americans, Polish-Americans, Mexican-Americans, Norwegian-Americans, French-Americans, Italian-Americans..." Yes. They all go away in your story, and because they do, you think it is wrong for me to object. That's when I said to you that you're clearly not reading any of the many writings about depictions of Native people. It just isn't ok to create Native characters and then get rid of them like that. Later in the SLJ thread, you said:

"I threw the reference to the Chumash in as an effort to at least acknowledge that there are still Native Americans in SoCal. That was it. It's a throwaway character we see for three pages out of a 1500 page series." 

Really, Michael? That's pretty awful. I hope someone amongst your writing friends can help you see why that doesn't work!

Lana is back in chapter seven. A mountain lion appears. Patrick fights it and it takes off, but Patrick has a bad wound. Lana drifts off to sleep again, holding Patrick's wound to stop the blood. She wakes, part way through chapter ten. Patrick isn't with her but comes bounding over, all healed! Lana wonders if she had healed him. She glances at her mangled arm, which is now getting infected. She touches it, drifts off, and when she wakes it, too is healed. Next she heals her broken leg. All better, she stands up.

So---Lana is a healer, Michael? That, too, is over in checklist land (Native characters who heal others).

In chapter fifteen, Lana and Patrick set out to find food and water and hopefully, her grandfather's ranch. After several hours of walking in the heat, they find the wall that is an important feature of the story, and then, a patch of green grass. There's a water hose and a small cabin. They drink, and she washes the dried blood off her face and hair.

In chapter eighteen, Lana wakes in the cabin, and remembers the last few weeks. She remembers putting the bottle of vodka in a bag with "the beadwork she liked" (p. 203). My guess, given that her grandfather is Chumash, is that the bag we're meant to imagine is one with Native beadwork designs on it.

Lana hears scratching at the door, like the way a dog scratches at a door, and she hears a whispered "Come out." Oh-oh (again), Michael! Native people who can communicate with animals! That on the checklist, too? Patrick's hackles are raised, his fur bristles. They finally open the door and go out out but don't see anyone. She uses the bathroom in an outhouse. When Lana and Patrick head back to the cabin, a coyote is standing there, between the outhouse and the cabin. This coyote, however, is the size of a wolf. She thinks back on what she learned about coyotes, from Grandpa Luke (p. 207):

“Shoo,” Lana yelled, and waved her hands as her grandfather had taught her to do if she ever came too close to a coyote.

It didn't move, though. Behind it were a few more. Patrick wouldn't attack them, so, Lana yelled and charged right at them. The coyote recoiled in surprise. Lana was a flash of something dark, and the coyote yelped in pain. She made it to the cabin. She heard the coyotes crying in pain and rage. The next day, she found the one who she'd charged at (p. 207):

Still attached to its muzzle was half a snake with a broad, diamond-shaped head. Its body had been chewed in half but not before the venom had flowed into the coyote’s bloodstream.

What does that mean? Does Lana's healing power mean snakes will defend her? Or, that she can summon them to help her? Or is the appearance of these snakes just coincidental and has nothing to do, really, with Lana?

In chapter twenty-five, two days have passed since Lana's encounter with the coyotes. Lana and Patrick eat the food they find in the cabin, and learn that it belonged to a guy named Jim Brown. He has 38 books in the cabin. Lana passes time reading them. At one point, she realizes there's a space underneath the cabin. In it, she finds gold bricks. She remembers the picks and shovels she saw outside, and the tire tracks leading to a ridge and thinks that, perhaps, Jim and his truck are there. She fills a water jug, and the two set off, following the tire tracks.

In chapter twenty-seven, Lana and Patrick reach an abandoned mining town. She look for keys to the truck they find, and, they peek into the mine shaft. Suddenly they hear coyotes. It seems Lana can hear them saying "food." Lana and Patrick enter the mine, but the coyotes don't follow them. Then, one of them talks to her, telling her to leave the mine. They rush in and attack her but then stop, clearly afraid themselves. She's now their prisoner. They nudge her down, deeper into the mine. She senses something there, hears a loud voice, passes out, and wakes, outside.

In chapter twenty nine, the coyotes push her on through the desert. She thinks of the lead coyote as "Pack Leader." He's the one who speaks to her. She asks him why they don't kill her. He says (p. 326):

“The Darkness says no kill,” Pack Leader said in his tortured, high-pitched, inhuman voice.

That "Darkness" is the voice she heard in the mine. It wants her to teach Pack Leader...  She asks Pack Leader to take her back to the cabin so she can get human food there. Later on, Darkness speaks through Lara.

Ok--Michael--I've spelled out how your depictions of Lana fail. There's so much stereotyping in there. I gotta take off on a road trip now. I may be back, later, to clarify this letter. I think it is clear but may be missing something in my re-read of it. If you care to respond, please do!

Sincerely,
Debbie Reese
American Indians in Children's Literature

__________

November 18th (Michael Grant's response to Debbie Reese):

Hi, it's Michael Grant.  But feel free to call me Satan.

I'm writing this at Ms. Reese's kind invitation because we've had a . . . well, a bit of a thing.  Which I think we both find distressing because we are on the same side.  So, anyway, I apologize for this being so long.  (Bear in mind I write 500-page books, so you're getting off easy.)

You know the running gag on The Simpsons where Marge will look at Homer and ask him what he's thinking?  And then we get a cutaway to a cross-section of Homer's head and see that inside is a toy monkey banging a tin drum?  That's sort of the level of disconnect we have here. 

Basically, what you believe I thought or knew is not even close.  Partly it may be the way I write.  If you had a number line from seat-of-the-pants writers (pantsers) to planners I would be so far over on the pantser side there'd be no one to my left.  It's almost all improvised. 

So, things you (and probably most people) see as a plan, I know to be improvised.  I write big, densely-plotted books with big casts and multiple concurrent plot lines.  I also write series, and in my approach to a series, the whole thing is essentially one long book.  I like doing this because (among other reasons)  I like plenty of space to play out character arcs.   My series are 'built' like a TV mini-series.  I know that's not indicated in any way on the book, but I don't design the covers.

So the little toy monkey in my head is worrying from Page 1 about the plot primarily.  Not that it's the only thing, it's just the hardest thing, so most of my thinking is on that.  Second comes character.

As I always tell aspiring writers, there's no 'right' way to do this job.  There's only your way, which is whatever it takes to get you from Page 1 to the little hash marks at the end.  But civilians - people who are not writers - are told a lot of nonsense by writers trying, usually unsuccessfully, to explain how we do what we do.  The true answer is:  we don't know. But that's unsatisfying, so we make up a bunch of reasonable-sounding nonsense, and civilians come away with all these notions of inspiration and falling in love with your characters and tearing your soul open (which sounds painful) and they think it's real.  It's mostly not.  Writing is not inspiration so much as problem-solving.  (And typing.) A series of if-then propositions.  Constant reliance on imagination, over which I, at least, have very little conscious control. 

You need to understand that whatever image we put out there, we are scared little children trying to cajole the mute beast in the back of our heads into giving us the ideas we then type up.  I'm not complaining - it's the best gig in the world.  I have a ridiculously great life.  (Now.) I've done real work, I've been poor, I know and remember and thank the universe daily for giving me this, instead of what I started out with.  So, not complaining; explaining.  But an overwhelming amount of our mental resources is spent convincing ourselves that we are doing something real.  That we aren't just delusional.  Yes, I should be over that.  But I'm not.  I don't know a writer who is.

So, with that aside, I'm going to respond with some specifics re: Gone. Here's your review and my notes.  Not sure how the layout will work...let's see [note from Debbie: Grant copied portions of my review and followed the copied parts with his comments, in bold. For everyone's convenience, I'm inserting my initials in front of the copied portions.]:

DR: Chapter one is set at a school in California. It opens with a character named Sam, who is listening to his teacher talk about the Civil War. Suddenly the teacher is gone. It seems funny at first but then they realize that other teachers are gone, and so is everyone who is 15 years old, or older. In chapter two, Sam, his friend Quinn, and Astrid (she's introduced in chapter one as a smart girl) head home, sure they'll find their parents. They don't.

Partway through chapter two, you introduce us to Lana Arwen Lazar, who is riding in a truck that is being driven by her, grandfather, Grandpa Luke, who is described as follows (p. 19-20):

He was old, Grandpa Luke. Lots of kids had kind of young grandparents. In fact, Lana’s other grandparents, her Las Vegas grandparents, were much younger. But Grandpa Luke was old in that wrinkled-up-leather kind of way. His face and hands were dark brown, partly from the sun, partly because he was Chumash Indian.

At first, I thought, "cool." You were bringing a tribally specific character into the story! If he's Chumash, then, Lana is, too! There's whole chapters about her. She's a main character. But, you didn't remember her. Or maybe, in your responses at SLJ, you were too irate to remember her?

MG:  I'm author or co-author of, give-or-take, 150 books, 13 series, over 27 years.  Ballpark, that's, say, 30,000 pages.  Probably, what, 1000 named characters?  Probably more, I have no way to add it up. Deb, I have forgotten entire series, let alone characters.  I could not name the main characters in Everworld, for example, or Remnants.  You know why I always say something vague like "it's around 150 books?"  Because every time I count it comes out different. I have frequently forgotten that I am the author of the Barf-O-Rama series.  Okay, maybe forgetting that is deliberate, but I actually loved Magnificent 12, and with a gun to my head I couldn't tell you a third of the characters.

I'd be concerned it's old age, but my memory has never been good for those kinds of things.  Don't take my word for it, ask anyone who knows me in kidlit.  Quick story:  I used to wait tables and was damn good at it, too, but only because I was organized.  People skills?  Well, I waited on this couple, chatted, got to be friendly, they paid and left.  I went to the front to seat a couple I saw there.  Same people.  I did not recognize them.

So, TL;DR: forgetting the background of one out of at least 1000 characters?  Not only possible, inevitable.

DR: Anyway, I wasn't keen on the "wrinkled-up-leather" and "dark brown" skin because you're replicating stereotypical ideas about what Native people look like.

MG:  Actually, I was thinking Native Americans are darker-skinned on average than white folks, but mostly I was thinking: old dude who lives in the desert.

DR: As I continued reading, however, it was clear to me that you were just using the Chumash as decoration. You clearly did some research, though. You've got Grandpa Luke, for example, pointing with his chin. Thing is: I've been seeing that a lot. It makes me wonder if white people have a checklist for a Native character that says "make sure the character points with the chin rather than fingers."

MG: You know when I first learned about the pointing thing?  Just now, reading your note.  I had literally no idea.  He points with his chin because he's driving.

DR: Back to chapter two... Grandpa Luke pointed (with his chin) to a hill. Lana tells him she saw a coyote there and he tells her not to worry (p. 20):

“Coyote’s harmless. Mostly. Old brother coyote’s too smart to go messing with humans.” He pronounced coyote “kie-oat.”

Hmmm... Grandpa Luke... teaching Lana about coyote? That sounds a bit... like the chin thing. I'm seeing lot of stories where writers drop in coyote. Is that on a check list, too?

MG:  Sorry, nope.  Everyone hears the coyotes because they've mutated.  (Incidentally, not my best choice for the book, but, live and learn.)  The coyotes are there because they are typical large fauna in the SoCal desert.  (And sometimes here in Tiburon at night.)  Basically I had to decide whether the mutagenic effect of the FAYZ worked on animals as well as humans, and I thought this might be fun.

DR: Next, we learn that Lana is with her grandpa because her dad caught her sneaking vodka out of their house to give it to another kid named Tony. Lana defends what she did, saying that Tony would have used a fake ID and that he might have gotten into trouble. Her grandpa says (p. 21):

“No maybe about it. Fifteen-year-old boy drinking booze, he’s going to find trouble. I started drinking when I was your age, fourteen. Thirty years of my life I wasted on the bottle. Sober now for thirty-one years, six months, five days, thank God above and your grandmother, rest her soul.”

Oh-oh. Alcohol? That must be on the checklist, too. I've seen a lot of books wherein a Native character is alcoholic.

MG: My best friend at the time (that's over) is a recovering alcoholic.  My father-in-law is a recovering alcoholic.  (Loooong time sober.)  It was in my head.   Luke is an alcoholic to signal that maybe Lana has a genetic predisposition, and to explain why Luke is upset with Lana.  Am I aware that alcoholism rates are high on Native American reservations?  Of course.  Can I see where you'd think that's where I was going?  Yes, I do.  Here's the thing: had I consciously thought Indian=Alcoholic, the scene would have been different.  Why?  Because it would be a trope, and I don't like writing clichés.In effect he's only an alcoholic because I need him to bitch at Lana.

DR: Lana teases her grandpa, he laughs, and then the truck veers off the road and crashes. Grandpa Luke is gone. Just like the other adults. Lana lies in the truck, injured. Her dog, Patrick, is with her. The chapter ends and you spend time with the other characters.

His being gone is what I was referring to when I said that you erased him. At SLJ, you strongly objected to me saying that. You interpreted that as me saying you're anti-Native. You said that "every adult is disappeared." That you did that to "African-Americans, Polish-Americans, Mexican-Americans, Norwegian-Americans, French-Americans, Italian-Americans..." Yes. They all go away in your story, and because they do, you think it is wrong for me to object. That's when I said to you that you're clearly not reading any of the many writings about depictions of Native people. It just isn't ok to create Native characters and then get rid of them like that. Later in the SLJ thread, you said:

"I threw the reference to the Chumash in as an effort to at least acknowledge that there are still Native Americans in SoCal. That was it. It's a throwaway character we see for three pages out of a 1500 page series."

Really, Michael? That's pretty awful. I hope someone amongst your writing friends can help you see why that doesn't work!

MG:  My characters are my employees.  They aren't my pals, they work for me.  Anyone who comes to work for me has to be ready for the fact that I do have rather a tendency to kill characters: to 'fire' them.  With extreme prejudice.  (It's worse than a 'you're fired!' from Trump.  But not as bad as having him grab you by the. . .)  So, the way this works is if you go to work for Michael Grant (me), you're quite likely to end up dead.  Now, if I can only kill white people, I think the EEOC is going to have a beef with me.  Put another way, if I can't kill a diverse character, I can't hire a diverse character.  It's a basic part of the job description:  Michael's a good boss. . . except if he kills you. That's the nature of the gig.

DR: Lana is back in chapter seven. A mountain lion appears. Patrick fights it and it takes off, but Patrick has a bad wound. Lana drifts off to sleep again, holding Patrick's wound to stop the blood. She wakes, part way through chapter ten. Patrick isn't with her but comes bounding over, all healed! Lana wonders if she had healed him. She glances at her mangled arm, which is now getting infected. She touches it, drifts off, and when she wakes it, too is healed. Next she heals her broken leg. All better, she stands up.

So---Lana is a healer, Michael? That, too, is over in checklist land (Native characters who heal others).

MG:  Lana was never a Native-American in my head.  In my head, she's basically Latina. (The 2 Vegas grandparents)  When I came up with the name "Lazar" it was meant to be a riff on Lazarus that would still sound Hispanic.  Her middle name is Elvish. (Arwen Evenstar, LOTR)  Both together were meant to sort of point to 'healing.'

She's a healer because I needed a healer.  I couldn't have all this violence going on without some method of repairing people and getting them back in the action.  It had literally nothing to do with her ethnicity, at least in my head.  And again, had I thought I was doing that, I'd have done something different because it would have been a hoary cliché.  Again, back to my employer/employee relationship:   Basically the job description was, "Troubled tough chick who becomes Healer and will totally still shoot you."  That's what Lana was. I don't think at any point after that I thought about or referenced her ethnicity.  She was not her race, she was her function, and her specific personality.

DR: In chapter fifteen, Lana and Patrick set out to find food and water and hopefully, her grandfather's ranch. After several hours of walking in the heat, they find the wall that is an important feature of the story, and then, a patch of green grass. There's a water hose and a small cabin. They drink, and she washes the dried blood off her face and hair.

In chapter eighteen, Lana wakes in the cabin, and remembers the last few weeks. She remembers putting the bottle of vodka in a bag with "the beadwork she liked" (p. 203). My guess, given that her grandfather is Chumash, is that the bag we're meant to imagine is one with Native beadwork designs on it.

Lana hears scratching at the door, like the way a dog scratches at a door, and she hears a whispered "Come out." Oh-oh (again), Michael! Native people who can communicate with animals! That on the checklist, too? Patrick's hackles are raised, his fur bristles. They finally open the door and go out out but don't see anyone. She uses the bathroom in an outhouse. When Lana and Patrick head back to the cabin, a coyote is standing there, between the outhouse and the cabin. This coyote, however, is the size of a wolf. She thinks back on what she learned about coyotes, from Grandpa Luke (p. 207):

“Shoo,” Lana yelled, and waved her hands as her grandfather had taught her to do if she ever came too close to a coyote.

It didn't move, though. Behind it were a few more. Patrick wouldn't attack them, so, Lana yelled and charged right at them. The coyote recoiled in surprise. Lana was a flash of something dark, and the coyote yelped in pain. She made it to the cabin. She heard the coyotes crying in pain and rage. The next day, she found the one who she'd charged at (p. 207):

Still attached to its muzzle was half a snake with a broad, diamond-shaped head. Its body had been chewed in half but not before the venom had flowed into the coyote’s bloodstream.

What does that mean? Does Lana's healing power mean snakes will defend her? Or, that she can summon them to help her? Or is the appearance of these snakes just coincidental and has nothing to do, really, with Lana?

In chapter twenty-five, two days have passed since Lana's encounter with the coyotes. Lana and Patrick eat the food they find in the cabin, and learn that it belonged to a guy named Jim Brown. He has 38 books in the cabin. Lana passes time reading them. At one point, she realizes there's a space underneath the cabin. In it, she finds gold bricks. She remembers the picks and shovels she saw outside, and the tire tracks leading to a ridge and thinks that, perhaps, Jim and his truck are there. She fills a water jug, and the two set off, following the tire tracks.

In chapter twenty-seven, Lana and Patrick reach an abandoned mining town. She look for keys to the truck they find, and, they peek into the mine shaft. Suddenly they hear coyotes. It seems Lana can hear them saying "food." Lana and Patrick enter the mine, but the coyotes don't follow them. Then, one of them talks to her, telling her to leave the mine. They rush in and attack her but then stop, clearly afraid themselves. She's now their prisoner. They nudge her down, deeper into the mine. She senses something there, hears a loud voice, passes out, and wakes, outside.

In chapter twenty nine, the coyotes push her on through the desert. She thinks of the lead coyote as "Pack Leader." He's the one who speaks to her. She asks him why they don't kill her. He says (p. 326):

“The Darkness says no kill,” Pack Leader said in his tortured, high-pitched, inhuman voice.

That "Darkness" is the voice she heard in the mine. It wants her to teach Pack Leader...  She asks Pack Leader to take her back to the cabin so she can get human food there. Later on, Darkness speaks through Lara.

Ok--Michael--I've spelled out how your depictions of Lana fail. There's so much stereotyping in there. I gotta take off on a road trip now. I may be back, later, to clarify this letter. I think it is clear but may be missing something in my re-read of it. If you care to respond, please do!

MG: The problem again is that we have a disconnect.  In Luke, you're seeing a Native American.  I'm seeing a temp employee who is there to deliver some character background on Lana and then conveniently die.  Nothing about Lana was ever Native American in my head; she's a character, there for a reason that has nothing to do with her background.  But you were seeing something different.  It's a frequent issue in books - what's in your head defines your read, as what's in my head defines my writing.

So, when I said I didn't recall writing a Native American character, that's just the truth.  Luke is a throwaway.  Like hiring a temp for a day's work.  He's there to deliver a few lines and poof.  Lana's there for a much bigger role, but one that has nothing to do with her ethnicity.  I'm not dismissing ethnicity, but essentially, we had 332 kids starving and murdering each other, and my focus was on making it work.  The characters had other stuff on their minds.  They were eating pet cats and being threatened by psychopaths.  And I was sweating bullets hoping somehow it would all come together.

But can I understand how you'd read it and think, "Oh, cool, a Native American character?  Maybe this will go somewhere?"  Sure.  Of course, now.  But the thought never entered my head then.  I mean, I've hired hundreds, probably thousands, of throwaway characters, and they've been of all races and genders, and when they've delivered their lines, they go away.  Again: if you can't be killed off, you can't be hired. 

So, let me explain how this looks to me.  First, yes, I will claim my diversity 'points,' and proudly.  Because however much it irritates people, the fact is I was pushing diverse casts long before anyone was scolding me into doing it.  I'm proud of the work I've done.  I believe in the cause, and I'm not going to pretend I didn't write what I wrote.  No one was nagging us to be inclusive in 1993 when we were writing Ocean City.  We (I was writing with Katherine in those days) did it because we want to have access to any and all interesting characters.  And yes, in part because we thought it was the 'right thing' to do.  I've continued to keep diverse characters front and center.  I didn't have to be pushed into it, it's who I am.  It may be the one thing my mother got right with me.

But now, let me broaden this out.  I am not fundamentally a literary type (he says, handing a snarky line to future reviewers); I am, deep down in my soul, political.  As you see the world through various prisms, my prism tends to be politics, philosophy, ethics, all that stuff that doesn't earn any money.  That's my jam:  politics.  I get politics at a sort of intuitive level.  I feel the flow.  You don't have to believe me, you can think I'm crazy, but politics runs deep with me.  I quit writing for a year to do political ads for the Democratic Legislative Campaign Committee and won a Pollie Award - 3rd class - for some piece of whatever.  As much as I've written fiction, I've probably written more on politics.  Used to have a politics blog.

The atrocity that is Trumpy the Pig was a knife to the guts.  I felt it coming.  Did everything I could to stop it.  Obviously that didn't work.  (Duh.)  But, as an armchair pol, I sensed, intuited, whatever, that something like this was coming.  Before my eldest went off to college we were talking and I said dude, this is swinging back.  You could feel the pendulum had reached its limit and was just about to come swinging back.  My first instinct is political:  you defend what is defensible.  In fact, my guide on this is Field Marshall Montgomery (what?) who was a big believer in 'tidying' the battlefield. In other words, giving up what can't be held, and strengthening what can be.

What I see is that the Good Guys (us) were not in any way prepared for what had happened.  Instinctively, I wanted a tidy battlefield.  There are things we can defend and win, there are things we have to defend regardless, and there are things where we should take a step back, the better to prevail in the end.  That was my initial (intemperate) comment on the SLJ thread.  I wasn't taking a shot at Jason, who my wife tells me (with some force) is a good dude.  And again, bear in mind, I don't spend my days talking about books or libraries, I spend my days arguing politics with people who all fall into a sort of brutalist 'shop talk' jargon. 

Now, here's the thing.  I want more diverse characters and more diverse writers.  I think it's a good in itself, and it's more fun for me as a writer.  But if I write a Native American character and have to worry I'll be beaten up and called names, I'm not going to do it.  No non-Native American writer will.  That is the opposite of what we both want. 

At the same time, I understand that it is galling to see Native Americans reduced to sideline roles in the country that was stolen from them.  Lovely country, sorry about the smallpox and the massacres, now go stand in the corner, look solemn and say, "how."  A bit like having a prop Jew in a Holocaust play directed by Germans.  Just as I understand how galling it is when that kind of treatment goes to African-American, gay, Latino, etc... characters.  But given the situation that exists - mostly white writers - the only way for large numbers of  PoC characters to come into existence is for them to be written by white writers.  Yes, that sucks.  Hopefully that will change.  If I had a magic wand and could make it happen, I'd do it.  (Might cure cancer first.)  My tiny contribution today was to give an African-American starting writer my email and my lawyer.  (And no one gets my email.)  But no one can just snap their fingers and redress the balance tonight. It's going to be a long war of attrition.  So for the short term, it's largely going to be white writers.  The question I have is:  how do we get white writers to write diverse characters? 

 

Not by attacking them when they do.  Criticize?  Of course.  Comes with the territory.  Teach?  Of course.  Review?  Yep.  Where I part company is the destruction of books.  Mein Kampf is still on the market, and, as a Jew?  I would never support banning it. I flatly reject the banning or withdrawing of books. 

I think we need to find a way forward that squares that circle.  We need a way to do the work of diversity without the attacks on writers.  And they are attacks. That doesn't mean I think we should be having writers produce new L'il Black Sambo books, nor does it mean I don't think you and others should hold our feet to the fire.  But not every infraction is a firing offense.

Writers don't want to be told what to write.  Activists don't want us randomly grabbing stereotypes and plugging them in.  This doesn't feel insoluble to me, if we can start by working working together toward a goal we share, a goal I've put an awful lot of work into, as have you. 

Damned if I know how we do that, but we all have our skills, and mine is making stuff up, not bringing people together.  Or punctuation. Or driving at the speed limit.  Or not eating an entire pie.  So many things I'm not good at. But if someone has an idea how to bring peace between activists and writers, I'm open.

Michael Grant

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Saturday, November 19: Debbie Reese's response to Michael Grant's email, written as an observation rather than a point-by-point rebuttal:

Grant says that he "improvised" when creating the Native characters and what they do, and that he relied on his imagination. Improvisation and imagination, however, don't come from nowhere. They are infused with ideas about the world that come from ones existence in the world. Grant is able, from his point of view, to wave away all that I pointed out in my review. His unwillingness to acknowledge the ways that he stereotypes Native people is a problem. Obviously, his editors and fans are in that same space.  They are not able to see these problems and, subsequently, unable to recognize the harm they do. Collectively, they are perpetuating these stereotypes. Grant does this with other groups, too. See the review of the way he depicted autism, here: Review: the Gone series by Michael Grant and his comment to that review. As I read GONE, I highlighted passages about Petey. I highlighted passages about Edilio, who is called a wetback. And I highlighted the first death in the book (p. 43): "She was black, black by race and from the coating of soot." 


Grant thinks I and Corinne Duyvis are wrong to point out these problematic representations in his books. We have a larger challenge, he argues, ahead of us (the president-elect). It seems he wants us to set aside our work as people who speak up to misrepresentations in children's and young adult books. The thing is, Grant's views--and the president-elect's views--were shaped by stories in books, in the media, and by stories told to them by parents, friends and colleagues... That is why Grant's depictions matter. 

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Sunday, Nov 20, 2016: Michael Grant's response to Debbie Reese (submitted on Nov 19): 

MG: And now, continuing the dialog, my response to Ms. Reese's response to my response to. . . wherever we are at this point.  (I'll keep this under the character limit. I hope.)

DR: "Grant says that he "improvised" when creating the Native characters and what they do, and that he relied on his imagination. Improvisation and imagination, however, don't come from nowhere. They are infused with ideas about the world that come from ones existence in the world. Grant is able, from his point of view, to wave away all that I pointed out in my review. 

MG: No, I responded honestly and at some length.  Yes, of course improvisation comes from imagination and background.  I'm well aware of the likelihood that much of what I think is correct is not, to one degree or another.  I'm telling you where I was at, 10 years ago, when I was writing GONE, as best I can remember.  All I can do is tell the truth.

DR: His unwillingness to acknowledge the ways that he stereotypes Native people is a problem. 

Obviously, his editors and fans are in that same space.  They are not able to see these problems and, subsequently, unable to recognize the harm they do. Collectively, they are perpetuating these stereotypes. Grant does this with other groups, too. See the review of the way he depicted autism, here: Review: the Gone series by Michael Grant and his comment to that review. As I read GONE, I highlighted passages about Petey. I highlighted passages about Edilio, who is called a wetback. And I highlighted the first death in the book (p. 43): "She was black, black by race and from the coating of soot." 

The GONE series runs about 3000 pages.  Yes, Edilio is called a 'wetback' and other slurs as well.  By people we hate.  Let me tell you about Edilio, and why that remark, Ms. Reese, is a perfect example of the kind of drive-by book assassination I and 90% of writers find so chilling.

Edilio is an undocumented Honduran.  He is introduced at the start as an almost throw-away character.  But I knew he wasn't.  Over the course of the series he becomes - despite not possessing powers - the most trusted, relied-upon, steady and mature person in the FAYZ, the leader of the FAYZ.  I've received probably thousands of notes, tweets, emails, and in-person testimonials from Hispanic and gay kids (Edilio comes out in the series) about the importance to them of Edilio. 

Here's very late in the series, in LIGHT, in the aftermath.  A couple of characters in the hospital chatting.  

"Edilio is in hiding," Astrid snapped.  "Edilio has to be worried about being kicked out of the country.  Our Edilio."
"He's got a volunteer lawyer --"
But Astrid wasn't done.  "They should be putting up statues to Edilio.  They should be naming schools after that boy -- no, no, I'm not going to call him a boy.  If he's not a man I'll never meet one."

Does that sound to you as if my purpose was to trash Edilio by calling him a wetback? Or do you think maybe I spent a good part of 3000 pages slowly bringing Edilio along as a character, bringing the readers with me, as I moved him from 'nobody' to 'they should name schools after him?'

You are being unjust to me, Ms. Reese.  You were unjust to accuse me of erasure, you were unjust to accuse me of lying, you are being unjust now to act as though 'wetback' is how I think of Hispanics when it is patently obvious that I'm doing just the opposite.  You are unjust to toss in the description of a black kid as black with what implication?  That's another cheap shot, and if you actually read my books you'd know that.  But you don't read the book, you cherry-pick scenes out-of-context and wave them around like a bloody shirt and call that a review.  That is unfair and it is unjust. 

DR: Grant thinks I and Corinne Duyvis are wrong to point out these problematic representations in his books. 

MG: That is flatly false.  On the contrary, I wrote:

Criticize?  Of course.  Comes with the territory. Teach?  Of course.  Review?  Yep.  Where I part company is the destruction of books.  Mein Kampf is still on the market, and, as a Jew?  I would never support banning it. I flatly reject the banning or withdrawing of books.

The issue here is not criticism, I'm a big boy and if criticism scared me, why am I here?  The issue to me is book-banning and book-destruction.  The issue is freedom of speech and the First Amendment.  The issue is the political knock-on effects.  The issue is making the perfect the enemy of the good and in the process harming the very cause we both support. 

Of course my depictions matter.  And had you said to me, "You know dude, maybe this sounds crazy to you, but when a Native American kid sees a Native American character in a book, and then it turns out to be a bunch of nothing, that's disappointing to Native kids," I'd have said, "Huh, I hadn't thought of that.  Interesting.  I'll keep that in mind and see if I can't look at hiring more Native American characters in bigger roles."  

I would like to start having those conversations.  I like dialog.  But dialog goes both ways.  There is no dialog if each time I defend myself the mere fact of defending myself is taken as proof of thought-crime.  Let's have a conversation - activists and writers.  I'm up for it, I think plenty of writers are. 

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Sunday, November 20: Debbie Reese's response to Michael Grant about erasure

Dear Michael,

We have way too many points of disagreement to continue in this same way. How about we focus on single points, working our way through others, later. Let's start with the beginning of our exchange, over at School Library Journal.

I said that you erased Native Americans in one of your books. I asked you to look over your books and see if you could find the one I was referring to. I was pushing you to look critically at your work, but you said there was too much of it for you to do that. You were sure that you hadn't erased Native Americans.

My guess is that you read my remark and thought that I was saying you'd written a story where Native Americans were erased on a large scale and that the erasure was celebrated. Because you haven't written a book like that, you called me a liar. You said I was slandering you and that I owed you an apology. 

When I specified the book (Gone), and the character (Grandpa Luke) you dismissed what I'd said because he isn't the only character who disappears. I think it matters, though, because in the larger context of Native and characters of color, these are the ones that are, to use that phrase, 'the first to die.' That's how I read Grandpa Luke's disappearance. He's gone. Erased. Removed from your story. That's similar to what happened to the Native characters in two best selling books: Sign of the Beaver and Little House on the Prairie. 

You've been writing books for a long time. I've been studying the ways that writers write Native characters for a long time. I hope this conversation will help you see what I see. 

Debbie

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Monday, November 21, 2016: Debbie Reese's Response to Michael Grant about Lana's identity

Michael,

I don't know if I'll hear from you anymore, but if you do, I'll insert your replies in the appropriate place. This morning, I'm back with this reply to talk with you or anyone who is interested in understanding the problems with your decisions with respect to Lana's identity.

You introduced her on page 19, partway through chapter two. She's riding in a truck with her grandfather, Grandpa Luke. You tell us he is Chumash. In my review (up top of this post), I wrote that I thought that was cool because you didn't say he was "part Chumash." When someone is a citizen of a nation, they're a full citizen of that nation. In the U.S., the tribal nations have sovereign nation status because they were nations of people long before Europeans came here. Each one has its own criteria for determining its citizenship. So, it seemed to me you knew about tribal nations and citizenship.

In its interview series with Native leaders, the National Museum of the American Indian has one with the chairman of the Santa Ynez Band of Chumash Indians. It has lot of good information, including this:

The federal government created Indian reservations even before many western states were established. To remedy the poverty of the Indians in California who were previously part of the Spanish missions, Congress passed the Mission Indian Relief Act of 1891. 

I'm sharing that passage in particular because of the reference to the missions (which Raina Telgemeier misrepresented in Ghosts). 

But let's get back to Lana. I'm guessing that Grandpa Luke would be a citizen of the Santa Ynez Band. I'm also guessing that Lana would be, too. My expectation--at that early point in the book--was that I'd be pleased as I read on. I thought you'd done some research on Chumash people and would be bringing that into the story. From there, though, what I found was stereotypical.

In your reply on November 18th, you asserted that those items were about something else. They were not, in your mind, related to any effort on your part to signify that Luke and Lana are Chumash. (A note about alcoholism: you said that alcoholism rates are high, but that's not accurate. Research studies show that rates of alcoholism are similar across Native and non-Native populations. See a Washington Post article, or the research study the Post references).

Specific to their identity, you wrote that Luke was a "throw away character." I get it, but am not okay with it. Though this entire conversation has been intense, I think you will make different decisions in creating Native characters, and I think your editors will be more aware of how they're brought into stories, too. That is a plus, for all of us.

Debbie


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Tuesday, November 22, 2016: Debbie Reese to Michael Grant on dialog

Michael?

You still there? Maybe busy with family on this holiday week?

In my head, I'm thinking you're still open to dialog. So... I'll be hearing from you sometime, maybe next week? I hope so!

I hope that your editor didn't tell you to stop. I hear that happens to some writers, so I suppose it is possible in your case, too. Others might have told you to quit, that you're wasting your time with me, but that's a bit of a cop out, I think. You and I aren't the only ones reading this conversation. Your fans are reading, too. And a lot of writers are reading it, too.

So, I hope I'll have another email from you soon.

Debbie