Where do you shelve Native American stories?

The title of this post, "Where do you shelve Native American stories?" is directed primarily at librarians but the information is important to teachers, too, and writers. The stories I have in mind are the ones that are broadly characterized as myths, legends, and folktales. It is a quick and short response to a question about shelving of folk and fairy tales.

Evaluate!

(1)
The book you have in hand may not be a Native American traditional story. Its art might suggest to you that it is. It might have the name of a specific Native Nation in it somewhere. This might be in the title, or in the story, or in an author's note. That doesn't mean it is actually a Native American story. If it is a "based on" story where the author has drawn from several different nations, then, it is not a Native American story. Even though it looks like a traditional Native American story, it is not! It is a fiction, created by the author. 

What to do:

If you keep the book, it ought to be shelved in fiction. If you keep it, consider using it in library programming or in classroom lessons about critical literacy. One non-Native writer who does this is Paul Owen Lewis. Here's a screen cap from his website, about Storm Boy:

The relevant text from that screen cap is this sentence in the second paragraph:

Storm Boy follows the rich mythic traditions of the Haida, Tlingit, and other Native peoples of the Pacific Northwest Coast.

What exactly does "Pacific Northwest Coast" mean? Do you know how many Native Nations there are in that area? Here's a list of the Northwest Regional tribes (from the Bureau of Indian Affairs website). Not all listed below are on the coast. And, this list doesn't include the Haida or Tlingit nations because they're served by the Alaska offices. Then, of course, there's the Haida and Tlingit peoples in Canada. 

Northwest Regional Office: Confederated Tribes of the Grand Ronde Community of Oregon, Klamath Tribes, Makah Tribe of the Makah Indian Reservation, Confederated Tribes of Coos, Lower Umpqua, & Siuslaw Indians, Coquille Tribe of Oregon, Cow Creek Band of Umpqua Indians of Oregon, Confederated Tribes of Siletz Reservation

Coeur d'Alene Tribe BIA Agency: Coeur d'Alene Tribal Council

Colville Agency: Colville Business Council

Flathead Agency: Confederated Salish & Kootenai Tribes, Tribal Council

Fort Hall Agency: Fort Hall Business Council, Northwestern Band of Shoshone Nation

Makah Agency: Makah Indian Tribal Council

Metlakatla Agency: Metlakatla Indian Community

Northern Idaho Agency: Kootenai Tribal Council, Nez Perce Tribal Executive Committee

Olympic Peninsula Agency: Confederated Tribes of the Chehalis Reservation, Cowlitz Indian Tribe, Hoh Tribal Business Committee, Jamestown S'Klallam Tribal Council, Lower Elwha Tribal CouncilQuileute Tribal Council, Shoalwater Bay Tribal Council, Skokomish Tribal Council, Squaxin Island Tribal Council

Puget Sound Agency: Lummi Indian Business Council, Muckleshoot Tribal Council, Nisqually Indian Community Council, Nooksack Indian Tribal CouncilPort Gamble S'Klallam Tribe, Puyallup Tribal Council, Samish Indian Nation, Sauk-Suiattle Tribal Council, Snoqualmie Tribal Organization, Stillaguamish Board of Directors, Suquamish Tribal Council, Swinomish Indian Tribal Community, Tulalip Board of Directors, Upper Skagit Tribal Council

Siletz Agency: Confederated Tribes of Coos, Lower Umpqua and Siuslaw Indians, Confederated Tribes of the Grand Ronde Community of Oregon, Coquille Indian Tribe, Cow Creek Band of Umpqua Tribe of Indians, Confederated Tribes of the Siletz Reservation

Spokane Agency: Kalispel Business Committee, Spokane Business Council

Taholah Agency: Quinault Indian Nation - Business Committee

Umatilla Agency: Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation

Warm Springs Agency: Burns Paiute Tribe, General Council, Confederated Tribes of the Warm Springs Reservation, Tribal Council 

Yakama Agency: Yakama Nation

That is a lot of different tribal nations, who (of course) speak distinct languages and have distinct creation and traditional stories.  So, again, what are we to make of "Storm Boy follows the rich mythic traditions of the Haida, Tlingit, and other Native peoples of the Pacific Northwest Coast"?

(2)

If you have determined the book you're holding is about a single nation and that the art and words of the story accurately depict that single nation, ask yourself if it involves the creation of some aspect of that nation's way of viewing the world. If you determine it is a creation story, then it should be shelved in the same place that you put Bible stories. Shelving it there is an important signal that these are stories that are sacred--as sacred as Bible stories are to Christians. Generally speaking, people treat Bible stories with a respect that ought to be given to the sacred stories of any peoples' religion.

For further reading:

• The American Indian Library Association's bibliography of articles. 
• Sandra Littletree & Cheryl A. Metoyer (2015) Knowledge Organization from an Indigenous Perspective: The Mashantucket Pequot Thesaurus of American Indian Terminology Project, Cataloging & Classification Quarterly, 53:5-6, 640-657. 

_____
Revised on October 25, 2016, to include the example of Storm Boy, and, to add links to items that can help readers understand the ways that standard cataloging systems marginalize and misrepresent Native knowledge. 

Erin Hollingsworth's review of THE GIANT BEAR: AN INUIT FOLKTALE

I follow the reviews that Erin Hollingsworth, a librarian in Barrow, Alaska posts at goodreads. I met Erin a couple of years ago at the 2012 Pacific Coast Library Association's conference in Anchorage, Alaska. At that conference, I spent a lot of time with Debby Edwardson, author of Whale Snow and My Name Is Not Easy. It was a memorable trip that I look back on fondly.

A few days ago, Erin reviewed The Giant Bear, An Inuit Folktale. Written by Jose Angutingunrik and illustrated by Eva Widermann, I like what Erin says in her review and am passing it along to you. The Giant Bear was published in 2012 by Inhabit Media. Here's Erin's review:

This book combines a great story with terrific art. I cannot praise it enough. As to the reviewers who found it too violent, the polar bear is the largest land carnivore and it hunts and eats people. Polar bears are not cute cuddly animals; they are man killers. I think it is perfectly appropriate to share this fact with children. So many of them have had their brains addled by modern Coca Cola culture that it might do them some good to realize that the world around them is an all too real, and sometimes unfriendly place.

[Editor's note: This post edited on Dec 20th to include Erin's last name and a link to Goodreads.]

Garth Nix on Aboriginal Stories

One morning, earlier this month, while we had our morning coffee and caught up on news (using our laptops), my husband told me that Garth Nix had been on the Hugo Awards that had taken place the night before.

Nix is one of our favorite authors. As a family, we read Sabriel aloud on car trips, and did the same with Lireal and Abhorsen.  This summer, we listened to the Keys to the Kingdom series in audio book.

I looked up the Hugo Awards website and found Nix's remarks. I was quite surprised to read his first sentence:

First of all, let me acknowledge the traditional owners of the land on which this convention centre is built, the Kulin Nations - and pay my respects to their elders past and present.

The remark itself wasn't unfamiliar to me. I hear it when I go to conferences in American Indian Studies, or, to gatherings of Native people. Quite often, a Native person will begin their paper or speech with that acknowledgment. What surprised me was that the someone in this case is Garth Nix (he's not indigenous) and that he was delivering the remarks at a a major non-Native gathering.

I recalled that somewhere I'd read (and wished I had noted it) that Garth Nix knows the ins and outs of using indigenous stories. So, I asked colleagues on child_lit (an international children's literature listserv) and learned that it is fairly common for speaker's to preface remarks with that acknowledgment.  And, colleagues pointed me to a place where I could read more about Nix and his views on indigenous stories (thanks, Charlie and Judith!).

In his collection of short stories, Across the Wall, Nix writes (p. 140-141):

"The Hill" was written for an interesting international publishing scheme, in which a bunch of publishing houses in Europe and Allen & Unwin in Australia decided to simultaneously publish the same collection of short stories in English and four European languages, with the theme of the new millennium.

I was one of the two Australian writers invited to participate, and I wrote "The Hill" in an attempt to try to tell an overtly Australian story---something I'm not known for, since nearly all of my work is set in imagined worlds. This proved to be somewhat problematical, particularly when in the first drafts of "The Hill," I made the major characters part Aboriginal and tried to interweave a backstory involving Aboriginal myth and beliefs about land. I knew this would be difficult to pull off, but I didn't expect my Australian publisher's reaction, which was basically that, as a white Australian, I simply couldn't use either Aboriginal characters or Aboriginal myth. My initially simplistic attitude was that, as a fantasy writer, I should be able to draw on anything from everywhere for inspiration; that I could mine any history, myth, or religion.

After some discussions with both the publisher and an Aboriginal author, I realized that the issue was more complex, and that many Aboriginal people would feel that I was not inspired by their myth but was appropriating something valuable, one of the few things of value that hadn't been taken over in the process of colonization. It would be particularly hurtful because, as an Australian, I should know that some Aboriginal people would consider this yet another theft.

So the fantasy element of "The Hill," inspired by some Aboriginal myths, was removed and I rewrote it in a more straightforward way. However, given the constraints of the multilingual publishing schedule, and some misunderstanding along the way, the original version of the story is the one that got translated and is in the Norwegian, French, Spanish, and German editions. Only the English-language version is different.

I'm still not sure where I stand on the matter of allowable use of myth, legend, and history, save that if I do decide at some point to seek inspiration from the rich traditions and lore of the Australian Aboriginal people, I will ask permission first.

That's quite a lot of information, and it tells me a lot about Nix.  He starts with his lack of knowledge about the complexities in using indigenous characters and story and how he felt about his publisher telling him not to use Aboriginal material. But instead of digging in his heels, he went on to study and think about the issue, and share the development of his thinking with his readers.

Thinking about this reminds me James Ransome's remarks...  I heard him speak at a children's literature conference several years ago. He was asked why he had not illustrated children's books about American Indians. He replied that he "hadn't held their babies." In other words, he didn't know them well enough to do it with the care and sensitivity required to do it well.

I wish other writers in the field of children's and young adult literature would think as carefully about these issues as Nix and Ransome. We'd all be better off if they did!

[Note: Nix's first novel, Ragwitch (published in 1990), begins with an Aboriginal midden (described as a garbage heap) where the main characters find a ball that has a rag doll inside. I haven't read that book and don't know if the doll is meant to be Aboriginal.] 

What Debby Edwardson said...

I've spent the last week engaging in an online conversation on a site called Through the Tollbooth. There, like on American Indians in Children's Literature, I push writers to think about appropriation. Some people understand what I mean, others do not. It may be a failing in the way I say things. Debby Edwardson, one of the hosts of that week-long conversation, has some closing thoughts that I am sending you to read. She understands issues of appropriation, stereotyping, power, retellings of stories...  And, she did a terrific job of laying them out for her fellow writers on the Tollbooth site.

Here's an excerpt:

Debbie Reese said, “There are some things that I think non-Native writers ought to stay away from: religion, spirituality, worship.”

She also said something very provocative: “Most Native writers don't even put that in their books. Why do non-Native writers feel the need to do it?”

The question you, as a non-Native writer, should ask yourself is this: why don’t Native writers put overt references to Native religion, spirituality and worship in their books? Take a minute to think about it. This is important.

Okay. Time's up. Let’s be totally honest here. We all know that if we as writers are, say, Christian, it is not okay to preach in our books, not even obliquely. It’s not even okay to mention religion except in passing, very casually, in a nondenominational sort of way. Unless of course it’s a problem novel in which religion is the problem. These are the rules and we all know that if we don’t follow the rules we will not sell our books, except maybe to Christian niche publishers.

In fact, what Debbie said about Native writers not writing about their religious beliefs is also true for most Christian writers—writers like Katherine Patterson, for example, or Madeline L’Engle. They do not take us into their inner sanctuary of their own spiritual world. CS Lewis has been soundly criticized for sliding his Christianity in sideways.

See what I mean? Go over and read the rest of what she said. And, if you're inclined, read over posts going back to November 9th.

About Paul Goble and his books...

I get a lot of questions about Paul Goble. Are his books accurate? Reliable? I have not studied them myself, but can refer you to the works of two Native women: Elizabeth Cook-Lynn, and Doris Seale.

Elizabeth Cook-Lynn is a Crow Creek Sioux poet, novelist, and scholar and she is one of the founding editors of Wicazo Sa, one of the leading journals in American Indian Studies. In her essay "American Indian Intellectualism and the New Indian Story" Cook-Lynn writes (p. 117-118):

A transplanted Englishman, Paul Goble, who lived in the Black Hills of South Dakota for a time and married a woman from Sturgis, South Dakota, with whom he has a child, has been the most intrepid explorer of this genre [children's stories about Indians] in recent times. He has taken Iktomi (or Unktomi) stories, the star stories, and the creation myths of the Sioux, a vast body of philosophical and spiritual knowledge about the universe, to fashion twenty or more storybooks for children ages 3 to 14 which he, himself, has illustrated in a European aesthetic and style. Now living in Minnesota, he has successfully used several people as "informants," including a popular hoop dancer, Kevin Locke, who lives on one of the South Dakota Indian reservations. It is no wonder, when Native cultural philosophy and religion are used to entertain and inform white American children, that the idea of "Indian Intellectualism" in America is dismissed.
[...]
Goble takes his place not alongside, but a step ahead of those other white writers of children's stories who, knowingly or not, have long trivialized the rather sophisticated notions the Lakotas have held about the universe for thousands of years.
[...]
[C]onsidering the vast ignorance the average person has concerning native intellectualism, the non-Lakota speaking Englishman's interpretation of the native Lakota/Dakota world-view and spirituality through the lens of his own language and art is, at the very least, arrogant.

It has not occurred to anyone, least of all Goble himself, to ask why it is that tribal writers, except in carefully managed instances, have chosen not to use these stories commercially. If one were to inquire about that, one would have to explore the moral and ethical dimensions of who owns bodies of knowledge and literature. That is a difficult exploration in a capitalistic democracy that suggests anything can be bought and sold. Many white American critics refuse to enter into this debate, believe Native American literature and knowledge cannot "belong" to any single group. A discussion of who "transmits" and who "produces" usually follows.

Cook-Lynn's essay is in Devon Mihesuah's Natives and Academics, published in 1998 by the University of Nebraska Press. She's written several books and essays, including a recent article in Indian Country Today about Ward Churchill, who, by the way, is not Native: Lessons of Churchill fiasco: Indian studies needs clear standards.

Doris Seale is Santee/Cree/Abenaki and a co-founder of Oyate. In 2001, she received the American Library Association's Equality Award for her life's work. The essay I'm excerpting from below appears in A Broken Flute: The Native Experience in Books for Children, edited by Seale and Slapin. In the essay, Seale writes (p. 158-160):

In the beginning at least, there seemed to be some understanding, and some humility about the fact that he was venturing into a world that he could never more than partially comprehend.
[...]
Whether Goble has reacted to an increasing insistence in the Native community that it is time for us to tell our own stories, or at the very least that they should be told accurately, or to criticism of himself specifically is unclear, but as a young friend put it, "Man, something happened to him!" His work has come with increasingly longer lists of references, mostly to ethnographic texts from the late 19th- and early 20th Centuries, as a sort of justification. Lately, Goble has been specializing in Iktomi stories--Iktomi, for those who may not know, being the Lakota "trickster" figure. The introductory material in these books, "About Iktomi," gives the impression that Goble has come to believe in his entitlement to do pretty much what he wants to with any of our stories, and that the result should be beyond criticism. In Iktomi Loses His Eyes, a "Note to the Reader" tells us that "there is no 'authentic' version of these stories. The only rule in telling them is to include certain basic themes."
[...]
In the author's note to the Bison edition of Brave Eagle's Account of the Fetterman Fight (1992) Goble said this:

"I wrote the book for Indian children because I wanted them to know about and to feel proud of the courage of their ancestors. I have written all my books primarily with Indian children in mind..."

Assuming, apparently, along with many anthropologists, that we have so lost our traditions, cultures and histories that we must be taught them by a white person.

There is no reconciliation for us to the things that have been done to us, to the things that are believed about us, to the fact that, even now, there is nothing of ours that is not fair game. If some white person wants it, there is nothing precious or sacred enough not to be touched.

Is it necessary to say, in the 21st Century, that this is not right?

I am fairly certain that every elementary school and public library has at least one of Goble's books on the shelf, and I'm sure that they circulate pretty well.

I suggest to librarians, when one of them is torn or dirty, that you remove the book and NOT replace it. There are better choices, and readers in your libraries should have those books instead.

I know, I know.... As your eyes read over my words, you are thinking about the Library Bill of Rights, and free speech, and all of those things that America privileges.

Nonetheless, I encourage you to think about what Cook-Lynn and Seale wrote, and give this some thought.

Carolyn Dunn on COYOTE SPEAKS

As readers of American Indians in Children's Literature know, I have strong feelings about retellings of Native story, especially when the source for the retelling is the stories archived by the Bureau of Ethnography in the late 1800s and early 1900s. My analysis of Penny Pollock's Turkey Girl and of Kristina Rodanas' Dragonfly's Tale demonstrates that Frank Hamilton Cushing misinterpreted what he observed when he was living amongst the Zuni people.

In my research, I search for books, chapters, and articles about those archived stories, and, about disclosure of sacred stories. Pueblo people are very guarded about what we share. On this site, I've written about intellectual property, and pointed to the Hopi Tribe and their statement on intellectual property.

As I prepare my paper for next week's meeting of the Native American and Indigenous Studies Association in Minneapolis, I'm revisiting the topic of disclosure. Last year, my paper was about Arrow to the Sun, Turkey Girl and Dragonfly's Tale. I'm reading (again) from Elsie Clews Parson's monograph on the Tewa Indians, The Social Organization of the Tewa of New Mexico, published in 1929. (Tewa is the language we speak at my pueblo, Nambe. It is spoken by several of the northern pueblos.) Parson's was amongst us in the 1920s. In the preface of her monograph, she wrote:

Imitating the secretiveness observed in all the Rio Grande pueblos, I settled in Alcalde, the Mexican town two or three miles north of San Juan, and here, thanks to my helpful and understanding hosts of San Gabriel ranch, I secured informants from San Juan, Santa Clara, and San Ildefonso. My informants worked singly or in couples, niece and uncle, sister and brother, mother and daughter, one interpreting for the other.

I ask you to consider what she says. The pueblos were secretive. Why was that? To circumvent this secretiveness, she set up her research site away from the pueblos, so that her informants would not be seen, so that she could work in secret.

She says that the informant from San Juan was the most helpful, and that his stories are the ones in her Tewa Tales, first published in 1926. Here's what she said about her informant from San Ildefonso:

Information from San Ildefonso was least satisfactory. The women were particularly timid and not well informed; the man was a threefold liar, lying from secretiveness, from his sense of burlesque, and from sheer laziness. Curiously enough, this man, whose social position is of the best, but whose veracity is of the worst according to both white and Indian standards, has probably been hitherto one of our sources of authority on the Tewa.

How does she know he was lying? How does she know what parts of what he said to her were lies? She does not say that she rejected his information, so, is it in her book? She obviously thinks that some of her informants were telling her the truth, but how does she know that?! In short, that paragraph makes me suspicious of her entire monograph.

Her Tewa Tales was recently republished, with a foreword by Barbara Babcock. Babcock includes the first paragraph I excepted above, but not the second one. There is, I think it is fair to say, an assumption that the informant from San Juan was not lying to Parsons. Again, though, I wonder, on what basis did Parsons have confidence in what he told her?

Like I said earlier, we Pueblo people are careful about what we disclose. Disclosure is taken up in Cynthia L. Chavez's dissertation titled Negotiated Representations: Pueblo Artists and Culture. She is Pueblo, raised at San Felipe. Here's a paragraph from the abstract:

Most Pueblo people have committed themselves to the non-disclosure of what they deem culturally sensitive or sacred, because of cultural prohibitions learned since childhood. In this dissertation, I investigate Pueblo artist' reasons for refraining from depicting certain images and/or themes in their artwork. I have interviewed various Pueblo artists of New Mexico (excluding artists from Zuni Pueblo) who choose not to depict culturally sensitive imagery in their artwork due to their cultural heritage. This research is an attempt to obtain insights into Pueblo cultural beliefs about non-disclosure/representation and how this impacts Pueblo people as participants in contemporary Western society and their own Pueblo societies.

Maybe the San Juan informant was not in the "most" category that Chavez writes about, but I wouldn't count on it. Knowing this about us (Pueblo Indians) makes me wonder about stories collected from other tribal nations. This morning, searching for writing on stories from those archives, I came across an essay by Carolyn Dunn. Posted on January 27, 2009 at her blog, Dunn's essay is definitely worth reading. She references an article she wrote in Reading Native American Women: Critical and Creative Representations and, the introduction to Through the Eye of the Deer. I'm going to get and read both items.

In her essay, she talks about Beverly Slapin's review of a book Dunn and Ari Burke published last year. The book is Coyote Speaks. On November 16, 2008, I posted Beverly Slapin's review of Ari Berk and Carolyn Dunn's book, Coyote Speaks. In her essay, Dunn effectively counters some of Slapin's review. Dunn makes several excellent points.

When I posted the review, I indicated that I had not read the book, that I was waiting for my copy. It has not arrived, or, I've misplaced it. I'll reorder today.

That said, I don't think Dunn will persuade me that it is ok to use those archives. Part of my resistance is based on what I know happens to Native stories when they are published in picture book format for young readers. Pollock and Rodanas added their interpretations to the stories Cushing published, thereby adding another layer of misinterpretation to the stories.

And, instead of being treated with the same respect as stories from other world religions, our stories are shelved over in the folklore section of the library. Dunn's Coyote Speaks is shelved in the 398.2089 section of the library, which is where all Native "folktales" are put. I think it should be in the 200s with other books about religion.

Thinking, and waiting for my copy of Coyote Speaks...

Reflections from students

In my course at UIUC, students are reading children’s books about American Indians. They’re also reading reviews in mainstream journals, customer reviews at Amazon, and, reviews in A Broken Flute. Below is a response to the assignment, written by Rachel Moyer, posted to our class blog (it is private, not public). I post this today with permission of both women.

This frazzled post was inspired by a discussion I had with Rachel Storm after class this afternoon. She's always provocative so I want to give her her propers.

I think what a lot of people in class today acknowledged about the children's books they assessed is that the sacred stories depicted in them are wildly inaccurate. Some of them are blatantly incorrect while others subtly, subversively present misinformation. I've noticed that some people have wondered what the "real" or "authentic" sacred stories actually are, as opposed to the inaccurate ones we read about in books categorized by dominant culture as Indian folklore.

While I think other cultures and religions are fascinating, sometimes even intriguing, I don't understand why we (and here I use we meaning non-Native people) expect to have access to, let alone expect to understand other peoples' sacred creation stories. These are complicated, profoundly meaningful original stories (not myths or superstitions or fables, etc.) that we (as non-natives or as persons removed from that particular First Nation) would not be able to grasp unless they were simplified or translated or condensed - which are the very criticisms of why sacred stories as children's books do not usually work in an unproblematic way.

While I think it's understandable, even wonderful that many of us are curious about Native cultures and religions (plural!) - I certainly am - I think we also need to be respectful enough, humble enough to acknowledge that these sacred stories create and are emergent from languages and places and peoples that we do not necessarily know, meaning that we should not feel entitled to all of the complexities of the "real" story even when we've identified a mainstream book is problematic or inaccurate. We shouldn't need even more proof to demonstrate that these books are offensive or unfair.