One of the things I noticed right away when I started to read Tim Tingle's How I Became a Ghost (published in 2013 by Roadrunner Press) is the prominence of the setting, and the words he chose for that setting:
See that? "Choctaw Nation." I did a quick search in Amazon, looking for other books in which an author used "Choctaw Nation" in a book that has Choctaw characters in it. Know what I found? There's one author who has done it several times--Tim Tingle. Interestingly, my search didn't turn up many children's books (in fiction) with the word "Choctaw" in them. The ones I did get are by Tim, and I gotta say, that makes me happy because Tim knows what he is doing. He is Choctaw. That he uses the word 'Nation' in his books is important. It conveys a basic fact that most people are unaware of: there are over 500 Native Nations in the United States. We decide who are citizens are, and we have a unique relationship with the United States government because of treaties our heads-of-state made with U.S. heads-of-state.
The other thing that I noticed is "Mississippi, 1830." Couple with its subtitle, "A Choctaw Trail of Tears Story," we know that we're about to read a story that begins in Mississippi where the Choctaw Nation was, and that the story is going to be about their removal from their homelands. There's a map, too, that can help readers visualize where the Choctaw Nation and its people were, and their routes to Indian Territory:
As the story opens, the protagonist, ten-year-old Isaac, is talking about playing with his dog, Jumper. Isaac and Jumper like to chase chickens. That's not ok:
"Make sure Jumper does not catch any chickens!" My Mother always yelled this from the back porch.
Think, for a moment, about the ways Native people are shown in popular works of historical fiction for children. Chances are, what came to your mind was tipis, and horses, buffaloes, and half-naked grunting Indian men of the kind that you got from Laura Ingalls Wilder in her book, set in 1869 (that was 39 years after the tribal nations of the southeast were moved to Indian Territory where they built houses with porches and schools, and towns... see why half-naked primitive Indians is incorrect?).
With How I Became A Ghost, Tingle is giving us something quite different from Wilder's stereotypes. He's giving us reality. Isaac and his family have a house with a front porch, and a back porch, and a garden. Having those things doesn't make them less Native. As you read through his story, you pick up on Choctaw ways of being that are very much part of their lives. Things like treaties are part of what the children know, too. "Treaty talk" is unsettling. With good reason.
There is a terrible tendency for writers to make Native spirituality into some kind of mystical or magical thing. Tingle doesn't do that. He gives it to us in a matter-of-fact way. He gives us Christian spirituality in that way, too. In his story, it has become part of the Choctaw way.
As the title suggests, Isaac is going to become a ghost, but this isn't a scary ghost story. Scary things do happen--this is a story about the forced relocation of a people, but it is more about the humanity of the people on that trail than it is about that forced relocation. How I Became A Ghost is about spirituality and community and perseverance. And laughter. There's some delightful moments in this story! Throughout, this story shines with the warmth that Tingle's storytelling voice brings to his writing. I highly recommend How I Became A Ghost. I have it on good authority that we'll hear more from Isaac. I look forward to it.
I've done few posts this month (February 2014) because I've been participating in a month-long discussion on CCBC-NET on multicultural literature and because I've been playing with Tumblr. The CCBC-NET discussion has traveled along familiar territory, with people assuming that my preference for literature by Native people means that I don't think non-Native people should be writing books about us, and assumptions that African Americans don't want people who aren't African American writing books about them either.
Though that perception is out there and gets circulated a lot, it can be quickly batted down if one pauses to think about some of the books I recommend: Debby Dahl Edwardson's My Name Is Not Easy. Debby is not Native. Joseph Bruchac's The Story of the Milky Way: A Cherokee Tale. Joe is not Cherokee.
That said, my preference is books by Native writers because when a parent or teacher or librarian recommends them, they can use present tense verbs in the recommendation. This will increase visibility of Native people as part of today's society. They could, for example, say "Tim Tingle is Choctaw. His book, How I Became A Ghost, is set on the Trail of Tears. Members of his family were on the Trail of Tears." And--they could say "The Choctaw Nation has a website, and so does Mr. Tingle. He's pretty cool... He's on Twitter, too!"
There have been some very eloquent posts to the CCBC-NET discussion that sought to bring clarity and context to it. If you're not currently a subscriber to CCBC-NET, you can join anytime and read the archived discussion.
Online, you can read what Cynthia Leitich Smith wrote about it at Cynsations. Her post, titled "Writing, Tonto & the Wise-Cracking Minority Sidekick Who Is the First to Die" is full of terrific information. Reading it, I was thrilled to learn that she's introduced a Native character in book 2 of her Feral trilogy. The first book is Feral Nights. It, and book two, Feral Curse, are getting bumped up on my reading list.
A few years ago when Tumblr started gaining traction, I created one for AICL but hadn't done much with it at all. I am taking a little time of late to develop it. It is a new thing for me, and because it is new and not very deep, I'm willing to play with the HTML code a bit. A bit. A tiny bit. This morning I added a date/time stamp and, hurray! It worked. Here's a screen capture of my latest post:
If you're on Tumblr and want to see what I'm doing, here's my page: debbiereese.tumblr.com. If I'm not doing something right over there, let me know!
A few days ago I started reading Laurie Halse Anderson's The Impossible Knife of Memory (published in 2014 by Viking). Her protagonist, Hayley, is smart and witty, and in tune with omissions and bias in the way that history is taught. At one point (chapter 23, I read it as an e-book and can't provide a page number), she's in her social studies class, where they are studying the Indian Removal Act of 1830. In his lecture, Mr. Diaz (the teacher) left out the Chickasaw people. Hayley points it out, and then says:
"Because thousands of native people died on the Trail of Tears, shouldn't we call it a 'genocide' instead of a 'forced march'?"
Her question sparks a debate in class (not included in the story itself), but I can see how Anderson's brief--yet powerful--reference to that moment in history could spark the curiosity of a reader, and I can see how a teacher who teaches the novel can use that passage to increase what students know about the Indian Removal Act. Later, Mr. Diaz asks her what she thinks about Andrew Jackson. Hayley's got other things on her mind then so doesn't engage the question, but it is posed. It is there for teachers to take up.
In chapter 41, Hayley is getting out of detention for having challenged Mr. Diaz again. Finn asks Hayley what she did. She replies:
"I just pointed out that calling it the 'Mexican-American War' falsely gives the impression that the Mexicans started it, and that in fact, in Mexico they call it the 'United States Invasion of Mexico,' which is the truth, or the 'War of 1847,' which is at least neutral-ish."
Mr. Diaz sent her to detention for disrupting his class with what he called her pedantic quibbles. When she recounts what happened to Finn, she adds that Mr. Diaz was being "an imperialist first worlder." As I read that passage, I was inspired to--literally--do a fist pump and exclaim at the beauty of the passage.
The Impossible Knife of Memory is getting lot of media attention, with good reason. Here's a paragraph from the review in The New York Times:
In “The Impossible Knife of Memory,” Anderson sensitively portrays a growing, complex problem particularly relevant in the United States today: the devastating ripple effects of post-traumatic stress disorder. After five years of being home-schooled on the road with her truck-driver dad, Andy, a veteran tormented by memories of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, Hayley Kincain finally has a home. But instead of finding a fresh, stable start her senior year at public school, Hayley is barely getting by.
There's a depth of care in The Impossible Knife of Memory that lingers in my heart. I highly recommend it.
Eds note, April 3, 2015: This post inspired one that focuses on picture books. I'm pasting it at the end of this one. _____________________________________
February 6, 2014
Earlier today I spoke with Ashley Strickland, a reporter from CNN, about young adult literature and American Indians. For that conversation, I pored over notes, books, articles, essays... trying to form some coherent thoughts on young adult literature and American Indians. Today's blog post is what I developed as I prepared for talking with her.
An elder once told me the only way an Indian would make it on the news is if he or she were one of the 4Ds: drumming, dancing, drunk or dead.
Skeptical of that thought, McCue did an analysis of news stories and found the elder's comment to be accurate. As I read his article, I thought about children's and young adult literature and the many books I've reviewed here on AICL that have those very things.
Two examples? Fichera's Hooked (Harlequin Teen, 2013) and Cooper's Ghost Hawk (Margaret K. McElderry Books, 2013). Bothhave all of the 4Ds, but they also have another tired cliche: in their stories, White characters come to the rescue, saving the lives of key Native characters.
At first glance, those four Ds aren't problematic. Native people drum. We dance. We have members of our nations that struggle with alcohol, and of course, we're human beings. We die, too. Those four D's are part of our lives, but too many authors sprinkle those Ds in their stories, decorating the story they tell, as if such decoration makes it a story about Native people. Those books get published because, for the most part, publishers want books that will sell. While those Ds are easily sold and easily consumed, stories like that aren't good for what-you-know about Indigenous people.
There are, of course, some excellent books out there! If you find one of the four Ds in these stories, it will have the context and depth necessary for that D to be a meaningful part of the story. Here's seven of my favorite books.
Eric Gansworth's If I Ever Get Out of Here (Scholastic, 2013) is amongst YALSA's 2014 list of Best Fiction for Young Adults. Set in 1975, the main character is a 7th grader named Lewis. He lives on the Tuscarora Reservation and is making his way through school. Author Cynthia Leitich Smith (I discuss her next) read and aptly described Gansworth's novel as "A heart-healing, mocs-on-the-ground story of music, family and friendship."
Upon the publication of her Rain Is Not My Indian Name (HarperCollins, 2001), Leitich Smith was selected as Writer of the Year, in the children's category, by the Wordcraft Circle of Native Writers and Storytellers. Cassidy Rain, the protagonist is of mixed ancestry but is a citizen of the Creek Nation. As you can see from the cover, she's into photography. But she's also into Star Trek! Having raised a daughter interested in photography and Star Trek (and Star Wars), this is precisely the kind of book I'd hand to her.
Debby Edwardson is not Native, but she's been married to an Inupiaq man for a long time and knows what she's doing. Her book, My Name Is Not Easy (Marshall Cavendish, 2011) was a nominee for the prestigious National Book Award. Primarily set in the 1960s boarding schools, it is the story of Luke, an Inupiaq teen in high school. As Edwardson notes in the book, Luke is based on her husband and his experiences.
Two of the novels I'm recommending are ones written for adults but that could easily be eligible for ALA's Alex Award ("books written for adults that have special appeal to young adults, ages 12 through 18").
In Louise Erdrich's The Round House (Harper Perennial, 2013), the protagonist in Erdrich's novel is Joe, an Ojibwe man who tells us a painful account. When he was 13, his mother was raped. At the core of Erdrich's story are the foundations of who we are as Indigenous peoples who persevere in the face of waves of adversity.
Tim Tingle's House of Purple Cedar (Cinco Puntos Press, 2014) opens with Rose, a Choctaw girl in Oklahoma in the late 1800s, remembering when a boarding school for girls was set afire, killing Choctaw girls inside. The evil that lit that fire is personified in the sheriff, and the spirit and confidence in justice propels Rose and her community forward.
Two of the books are by writers who are First Nations. The success of their books extends into other forms of media.
Richard Van Camp's The Lesser Blessed (Douglas & McIntyre, 1996) has been turned into a feature film. The story is about Larry, a 16-year old Dogrib who, with the help of Jed--his mother's boyfriend--and the stories he shares with Larry, makes it through some very dark spaces. There is breathtaking brutality, and brilliance, too, in Van Camp's stories.
Drew Hayden Taylor's The Night Wanderer (Annick Press, 2007) is a contemporary story with a twist. There is a vampire in it. How that character became a vampire in the first place is gripping, but so is his plan to get home to his reserve in Canada. Taylor's protagonist is a 16 year old girl. Taylor's writing had me reluctant to glance out my windows at night! The Night Wanderer is now available as a graphic novel.
Now--I imagine some of you are wondering why I don't have The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian in my list of favorites. The main reason is that you already know about it but remember:
Alexie's book is only one of many.
It can't be the single story
you know about Indigenous people.
Single stories, as Nigerian writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie says, are dangerous.
Alexie gave us a story. One story that he's said is based on his own childhood. His is a particular kind of story, too, that won't appeal to every reader. We need books about young adults who are from other reservations and nations, too. There are over 500 federally recognized tribal nations! Within them, some of us are living on the reservation, and some of us are in urban areas and cities. We dance, and we drum, and some of us sing our traditional songs, but some of us like rock and roll, too. It doesn't make us any less Native. We are who we are.
Don't let Alexie's book be the only one you read and recommend.
________________________________________ Eds note: The following content is from a stand-alone post on April 3, 2015.
Why you should teach two books by Native writers from different Native Nations at the same time
Earlier today on Facebook, I shared a post I wrote last year about not letting a single book (Alexie's Diary) be the only book about American Indians that you read or recommend. In that post, I talked about young adults books. In an ensuing conversation, Joe Sutliff Sanders, an Associate Professor at Kansas State University, told me that when he taught Alexie's book and Gansworth's If I Ever Get Out of Here at the same time,
...the conversation had to turn to explicating the differences between the books, and we had to stop saying "Indian" and start saying "Spokane" and "Onondaga." In fact, we had to start talking about poverty with a lot more nuance, too.
Here on AICL, I talk about the importance of naming a specific nation (and of course, accurately portraying that nation), but the classroom experience Dr. Sanders shared is so powerful that I asked him if I could share it. Obviously, he said yes. Thanks, Joe!
Let's bring that idea to the picture book category. We could identify similar pairings that would push students to stop saying Indian.
In the picture book category, you could assign/read Cynthia Leitich Smith's Jingle Dancer along with Carol Lindstrom's Girls Dance Boys Fiddle. Instead of saying "Indian" you and students will be saying Creek and Metis. Both feature girls and are set in the present day.
Or, you could use picture books set in the past, by assigning Tim Tingle's Saltypieand Virginia Driving Hawk Sneve's The Christmas Coat. Instead of saying "Indian" you'd say Choctaw and Lakota.
There are lots of possibilities! I gotta head out for now. I may come back with more pairings. I like this idea a lot.
Last year, two outstanding books by Native authors were published: Eric Gansworth's If I Ever Get Out of Here and Tim Tingle's How I Became A Ghost.
This morning, my CCBC-NET digest started with an email from KT Horning saying that those two books will be discussed this month. That email made me do a happy dance. I'm thrilled! If you're not subscribed to CCBC-NET, here's the link to do so: CCBC-NET.
Editor's note: Please read the comments. The discussion taking place there is definitely worth some thought. And please submit your own comments, too. --Debbie
Dear John Green,
Like most of the people in the land of children's and young adult literature, I took time this morning to watch the trailer for the film based on your much acclaimed book, The Fault In Our Stars. I liked the characters and decided I best read the book.
I got The Fault In Our Stars (published in 2012 by Dutton Books) in ebook a few weeks ago. I settled on my couch and started reading. It was going along ok until chapter three when Hazel's mom wakes her up and gleefully announces that it is March 29th. She goes on to say Of her mom's "celebration maximization" Hazel thinks (the text is in all caps in the book):*
IT'S ARBOR DAY! LET'S HUG TREES AND EAT CAKE! COLUMBUS BROUGHT SMALLPOX TO THE NATIVES; WE SHALL RECALL THE OCCASION WITH A PICNIC!, etc.
I stopped reading. I'm no longer with you as you tell this story. Now I'm just doing a "WTF does he mean by including that as part of a celebration?!"
I'm wondering if anyone else noticed that line? Rather, has anyone else objected to that line? I'm finding it a lot on the Internet, as something quotable. I don't get it.
Debbie Reese
*Update: an hour and a half after posting my "Dear John Green" letter
A reader on YALSA's listserv pointed out that the passage I excerpted above is what Hazel is thinking. I made the correction (hence the strike though text above).
As Wendy noted in a comment (below), it is sarcasm. Obviously, it didn't work for me. That subject (smallpox) is just too loaded for me.
Just heard that the days-long discussions of the YALSA's Best Fiction for Young Adults committee are over, and... the committee has voted on the 2014 list.
Eric Gansworth's If I Ever Get Out of Here is on the list! Congratulations, Eric!
