Still Not Recommended: THE SECRET PROJECT by Jonah and Jeanette Winter

Some conversations about my review of Jonah and Jeanette Winter's The Secret Project suggest that I didn't say enough, back in March. I'm back, therefore, to say more. Some of what I wrote in March is being interpreted as innuendo and destructive. In saying more, this review is much longer. I anticipate that some who read it will continue with the "nit picking" charge that has already been leveled. 

Some people read my reviews and think I'm being too picky because I focus on seemingly little or insignificant aspect of a book. The things I pointed out in March were not noted in the starred reviews by the major review journals, but the things I pointed out have incensed people who, apparently, fear that my review will persuade the Caldecott Award Committee that The Secret Project does not merit its award. 

In fact, we'll never know if my review is even discussed by the committee. Their deliberations are confidential. The things I point out matter to me, and they should matter to anyone who is committed to accuracy and inclusivity in any children's books--whether they win awards or not. 

****

The Secret Project, by Jonah and Jeanette Winter, was published in February of 2017 by Simon and Schuster. It is a picture book about the making of the atomic bomb. 

I'm reading and reviewing the book as a Pueblo Indian woman, mother, scholar, and educator who focuses on the ways that Native peoples are depicted in children's and young adult books. 

I spent (and spend) a lot of time in Los Alamos and that area. My tribal nation is Nambé which is located about 30 miles from Los Alamos, which is the setting for The Secret Project. My dad worked in Los Alamos. A sister still does. The first library card I got was from Mesa Public Library. 

Near Los Alamos is Bandelier National Park. It, Chaco Canyon, and Mesa Verde are well known places. There are many sites like them that are less well known. They're all through the southwest. Some are marked, others are not. For a long time, people who wrote about those places said that the Anasazi people lived there, and that they had mysteriously disappeared. Today, what Pueblo people have known for centuries is accepted by others: present-day Pueblo people are descendants of those who once lived there. We didn't disappear. 

What I shared above is what I bring to my reading and review of The Secret Project. Though I'm going to point to several things I see as errors of fact or bias, my greatest concern is the pages about kachina dolls and the depiction of what is now northern New Mexico as a place where "nobody" lived.

"In the beginning"

Here is the first page in The Secret Project:

The words are:  

In the beginning, there was just a peaceful desert mountain landscape, 

The illustration shows a vast and empty space and suggests that pretty much nothing was there. When I see that sort of thing in a children's book, I notice it because it plays into the idea that this continent was big and had plenty of land and resources--for the taking. In fact, it belonged (and some of it still belongs) to Indigenous peoples and our respective Native Nations.

"In the beginning" works for some people. It doesn't work for me because a lot of children's books depict an emptyness that suggests land that is there for the taking, land that wasn't being used in the ways Europeans, and later, US citizens, would use it.

I used the word "erase" in my first review. That word makes a lot of people angry. It implies a deliberate decision to remove something that was there before. Later in the book, Jonah Winter's text refers to Hopi people who had been making kachina dolls "for centuries." His use of "for centuries" tells me that the Winter's knew that the Hopi people pre-date the ranch in Los Alamos. I could say that maybe they didn't know that Pueblo people pre-date the ranch--right there in Los Alamos--and that's why their "in the beginning" worked for them, but a later illustration in the book shows local people, some who could be Pueblo, passing through the security gate.

Ultimately, what the Winter's they knew when they made that page doesn't really matter, because intent does not matter. We have a book, in hand. The impact of the book on readers--Native or not--is what matters.

Back in March, I did an update to my review about a Walking Tour of Los Alamos that shows an Ancestral Pueblo very near Fuller Lodge. Here's a map showing that, and a photo of that site

The building in Jeanette Winter's illustration is meant to be the Big House that scientists moved into when they began work at the Los Alamos site of the Manhattan Project. Here's a juxtaposition of an early photograph and her illustration. Clearly, Jeanette Winter did some research.

In her illustration, the Big House is there, all by itself. In reality, the site didn't look like that in 1943. The school itself was started in 1917 (some sources say that boys started arriving in 1918), but by the time the school was taken over by the US government, there were far more buildings than just that one. Here's a list of them, described at The Atomic Heritage Foundation's website:

The Los Alamos Ranch School comprised 54 buildings: 27 houses, dormitories, and living quarters totaling 46,626 sq. ft., and 27 miscellaneous buildings: a public school, an arts & crafts building, a carpentry shop, a small sawmill, barns, garages, sheds, and an ice house totaling 29,560 sq. ft.

I don't have a precise date for this photograph (below) from the US Department of Energy's The Manhattan Project website. It was taken after the project began. The scope of the project required additional buildings. You see them in the photo, but the photo also shows two of the buildings that were part of the school: the Big House, and Fuller Lodge (for more photos and information see Fuller Lodge). I did not draw those circles or add that text. That is directly from the site.

Here's the second illustration in the book:

The boys who went to the school in 1945 were not from the people whose families lived in that area. An article in the Santa Fe New Mexican says that:

The students came from well-to-do families across the nation, and many went on to Ivy League colleges and prominent careers. Among them were writer Gore Vidal; former Sears, Roebuck and Co. President Arthur Wood; Hudson Motor Co. founder Roy Chapin; Santa Fe Opera founder John Crosby; and John Shedd Reed, president for nearly two decades of the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railway.

The change from a school to a laboratory

Turning to the next double page spread, we see the school principal reading a letter from the US government. The man's name was A. J. Connell, and he was the director of the school. The letter (shown here, to the right) was sent to the director on December 7, 1942, saying the boys would have to leave by Feb. 8, 1943. Facing that page in the book is the scene where the boys had been playing games earlier, but now, there's no boys there. They've left behind a ball and a pair of shoes. 

In his review of The Secret Project, Sam Juliano wrote that this take over was "a kind of eminent domain maneuver." It was, and, as Melissa Green said in a comment at Reading While White's discussion of the book,

In her review Debbie Reese observed an elite boy’s school — Los Alamos Ranch School — whose students were “not from the communities of northern New Mexico at that time.” Of course not: local kids wouldn’t have qualified — local kids wouldn’t be “elite”, because they wouldn’t have been white. The very school whose loss is mourned (at least as I can tell from the reviews: I haven’t yet read the book) is a white school built on lands already stolen from the Pueblo people. And the emptiness of the land, otherwise…? It wasn't empty. But even when Natives are there, we white people have a bad habit — often a willful habit — of not seeing them.

Green put her finger on something I've been trying to articulate. The loss of the school is mourned. The illustration invites that response, for sure, and I understand that emotion. Green notes that the land belonged to Pueblo people before it became the school and then the lab ("the lab" is shorthand used by people who are from there). There's no mourning for our loss in this book. Honestly: I don't want anyone to mourn. Instead, I want more people to speak about accuracy in the ways that Native people are depicted or left out of children's books. 

The Atomic Heritage Organization has a timeline, indicating that people began arriving at Los Alamos in March, 1943. On the next double paged spread of The Secret Project, we see cars of scientists arriving at the site. On the facing page, other workers are brought in, to cook, to clean, and to guard. The workers are definitely from the local population. Some people look at that page and use it to argue that I'm wrong to say that the Winter's erased Pueblo people in those first pages, but the "nobody" framework reappears a few pages later.

By the way, the Manhattan Project Voices site has oral histories you can listen to, like the interview with Lydia Martinez from El Rancho, which is a Spanish community next to San Ildefonso Pueblo. 

The next two pages are about the scientists, working, night and day, on the "Gadget." In my review, I am not looking at the science. In his review, Edward Sullivan (I know his name and work from many discussions in children's literature circles) wrote about some problems with the text of The Secret Project. I'm sharing it here, for your convenience:

There was no "real name" for the bomb called the Gadget. "Gadget" was a euphemism for an implosion-type bomb that contained a plutonium core. Like the "Fat Man" bomb dropped on Nagasaki, Gadget was officially a Y-1561 device. The text is inaccurate in suggesting work at Site Y involved experimenting with atoms, uranium, or plutonium. The mission of Site Y was to create a bomb that would deliver either a uranium or plutonium core. The plutonium used in Gadget for the Trinity test was manufactured at a massive secret complex in Hanford, Washington. Uranium, used in the Hiroshima bomb, was manufactured at another massive secret complex in Oak Ridge, Tennessee. There are other factual errors I'm not going to go into here. Winter's audacious ambition to write a picture book story about the first atomic bomb is laudable but there are too many factual errors and omissions here to make this effort anything other than misleading. 

The art of that area...

Turning the page, we next see two outdoor scenes:

The text on those pages is:

Outside the laboratory, nobody knows they are there. Outside, there are just peaceful desert mountains and mesas, cacti, coyotes, prairie dogs. Outside the laboratory, in the faraway nearby, artists are painting beautiful paintings.

In my initial review, I noted the use of "nobody" on that page. Who does "nobody" refer to? I said then, and now, that a lot of people who lived in that area knew the scientists were there. They may not have been able to speak about what the scientists were doing, but they knew they were there. The Winter's use of the word "nobody" fits with a romantic way of thinking about the southwest. Coyotes howling, cactus, prairie dogs, gorgeous scenery--but people were there, too. 

I think the text and illustration on the right are a tribute to Georgia O'Keeffe who lived in Abiquiu. I think Jeanette Winter's illustration is meant to be O'Keeffe, painting Pedernal. That illustration is out of sync, timewise. O'Keeffe painted it in 1941, which is two years prior to when the scientists got started at Los Alamos.  

The next double-paged spread is one that prompted a great deal of discussion at the Reading While White review:

The text reads:

Outside the laboratory, in the faraway nearby, Hopi Indians are carving beautiful dolls out of wood as they have done for centuries. Meanwhile, inside the laboratory, the shadowy figures are getting closer to completing their secret invention.

In my initial review, I said this:

Hopi? That's over 300 miles away in Arizona. Technically, it could be the "faraway" place the Winter's are talking about, but why go all the way there? San Ildefonso Pueblo is 17 miles away from Los Alamos. Why, I wonder, did the Winter's choose Hopi? I wonder, too, what the take-away is for people who read the word "dolls" on that page? On the next page, one of those dolls is shown hovering over the lodge where scientists are working all night. What will readers make of that? 

Reaction to that paragraph is a primary reason I've done this second review. I said very little, which left people to fill in gaps.

Some people read my "why did the Winter's choose Hopi" as a suggestion that the Winter's were dissing Pueblo people by using a Hopi man instead of a Pueblo one. That struck me as an odd thing for that person to say, but I realized that I know something that person doesn't know: The Hopi are Pueblo people, too. They happen to be in the state now called Arizona, but they, and we--in the state now called New Mexico, are similar. In fact, one of the languages spoken at Hopi is the same one spoken at Nambé.

Some people thought I was objecting to the use of the word "dolls" because that's not the right word for them. They pointed to various websites that use that word. That struck me as odd, too, but I see that what I said left a gap that they filled in.

When I looked at that page, I wondered if maybe the Winter's had made a trip to Los Alamos and maybe to Bandelier, and had possibly seen an Artist in Residence who happened to be a Hopi man working on kachina dolls. I was--and am--worried that readers would think kachina dolls are toys. And, I wondered what readers would make of that one on the second page, hovering over the lodge.

What I was asking is: do children and adults who read this book have the knowledge they need to know that kachina dolls are not toys? They have spiritual significance. They're used for teaching purposes. And they're given to children in specific ways. We have some in my family--given to us in ways that I will not disclose. As children, we're taught to protect our ways. The voice of elders saying "don't go tell your teachers what we do" is ever-present in my life. This protection is there because Native peoples have endured outsiders--for centuries--entering our spaces and writing about things they see. Without an understanding of what they see, they misinterpret things.

The facing page, the one that shows a kachina hovering over the lodge, is not in full color. It is a ghost-like rendering of the one on the left:

We might say that the Winter's know that there is a spiritual significance to them, but the Winter's use of them is their use. Here's a series of questions. Some could be answered. My asking of them isn't a quest for answers. The questions are meant to ask people to reflect on them.

• Would a Hopi person use a kachina that way? 
• Which kachina is that? On that first page, Jeanette Winter shows several different ones, but what does she know about each one? 
• What is Jeanette Winter's source? Are those accurate renderings? Or are they her imaginings? 
• Why did Jeanette Winter use that one, in that ghost-like form, on that second page? Is it trying to tell them to stop? Is it telling them (or us) that it is watching the men because they're doing a bad thing? 

The point is, there's a gap that must be filled in by the reader. How will people fill in that gap? What knowledge will they turn to, or seek out, to fill that gap?

In the long exchange at Reading While White, Sam Juliano said that information about kachina dolls is on Wikipedia and all over the Internet. He obviously thinks information he finds is sufficient, but I disagree. Most of what is on the Internet is by people who are not themselves, Native. We've endured centuries of researchers studying this or that aspect of our lives. They did not know what they were looking at, but wrote about it anyway, from a White perspective. Some of that research led to policies that hurt us. Some of it led to thefts of religious items. Finally, laws were passed to protect us. One is the Indian Religious Freedom Act of 1978 (some good info here), and another is the Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act, passed in 1990. With that as context, I look at that double-paged spread and wonder: how it is going to impact readers?

The two page spread with kachinas looks -- to some people -- like a good couple of pages because they suggest an honoring of Hopi people. However, any "honoring" that lacks substance is just as destructive as derogatory imagery. In fact, that "honoring" sentiment is why this country cannot seem to let go of mascots. People generally understand that derogatory imagery is inappropriate, but cannot seem to understand that romantic imagery is also a problem for the people being depicted, and for the people whose pre-existing views are being affirmed by that romantic image.

Update, Monday Oct 23, 8:00 AM
Conversations going on elsewhere about the kachina dolls insist that Jeanette Winter knows what she is doing, because she has a library of books about kachina dolls, because she's got a collection of them, and because she's had conversations with the people who made them. Unless she says something, we don't know, and in the end, what she knows does not matter. What we have is in the book she produced. In a case like this, it would have been ideal to have some information in the back matter and for some of her sources to have been included in the bibliography. If she talked with someone at the Hopi Cultural Preservation Office, it would have been terrific to have a note about that in the back matter, too.

Other conversations suggest that readers would know that kachinas have a religious meaning. Some would, but others do not. Some see them as a craft item that kids can do. There are many how-to pages about making them using items like toilet paper rolls. And, there are pages about what to name the kachina dolls being made. Those pages point to a tremendous lack of understanding and a subsequent trivialization of Native cultures.

Curtains

One result of these long-standing misrepresentations and exploitations is this: For some time now, Native people have drawn curtains (in reality, and in the abstract) on what we do and what we share. As a scholar in children's literature, I've been adding "curtains" to Rudine Sims Bishop's metaphor of books as mirrors, windows, and sliding glass doors. There are things people do not share with outsiders.

Tribal nations have protocols for researchers who want to do research. Of relevance here is the information at the website for the Hopi Cultural Preservation Office. There are books about researchers, like Linda Tuhiwai Smith's Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples, now in its 2nd edition.

My point: there are resources out there that can help writers, editors, reviewers, teachers, parents and librarians grow in their understandings of all of this.

The Land of Enchantment

The last page that I want to talk about in some detail is this one:

The text is:

Sometimes the shadowy figures emerge from the shadows, pale and tired and hallow-eyed, and go to the nearby town.

That nearby town is meant to be Santa Fe. See the woman seated on the right, holding a piece of pottery? The style of those two buildings and her presence suggests that they're driving into the plaza. It looks to me like they're on a dirt road. I think the roads into Santa Fe were already paved by then. See the man with the burro? I think that's out of time, too. The Manhattan Project Voices page has a photograph of the 109 E. Palace Avenue from that time period. It was the administrative office where people who were part of the Manhattan Project reported when they arrived in Santa Fe:

You can find other photos like that, too. Having grown up at Nambé, I have an attachment to our homelands. Visitors, past-and-present, have felt its special qualities, too. That’s why so many artists moved there and it is why so many people move there now. I don’t know who first called it “the land of enchantment” but that’s its moniker. Too often, outsiders lose perspective that it is a land where brutal violence took place. What we saw with the development of the bomb is one recent violent moment, but it is preceded by many others. Romanticizing my homeland tends to erase its violent past. The art in The Secret Project gets at the horror of the bomb, but it is marred by the romantic ways that the Winter's depicted Native peoples.

Update, Oct 19, 9:15 AM
Below, in a comment from Sam Juliano, he says that the text of the book does not say that the scientists were going to the plaza in Santa Fe. He is correct. The text does not say that on that page. Here's the next illustration in the book:

That is the plaza. Other than the donkeys, the illustration is accurate. Of course, a donkey could have been there, but it is not likely at that time. If you were on the sidewalk, one of those buildings shown would be the Palace of the Governors. Its "porch" is famous as a place where Native artists sell their work. In the previous illustration, I think Jeanette Winter was depicting one of the artists who sells their work there, at the porch. Here's a present-day photo of Native artists there. (It is, by the way, where I recommend you buy art. Money spent there goes directly to the artist.)  

  

Some concluding thoughts

The Secret Project got starred reviews from Publisher's Weekly, the Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books, The Horn Book, Booklist, and Kirkus. None of the reviews questioned the Native content or omissions. The latter are harder for most people to see, but I am disappointed that they did not spend time (or write about, if they did) on the pages with the kachina dolls. 

I fully understand why people like this book. I especially understand that, under the current president, many of us fear a nuclear war. This book touches us in an immediate way, because of that sense of doom. But--we cannot let fear boost this book into winning an award that has problems of accuracy, especially when it is a work of nonfiction.

There are people who think I'm trying to destroy this book. As has been pointed out here and elsewhere, it got starred reviews. My review and my "not recommended" tag is not going to destroy this book.

What I've offered here, back in March, and on the Reading While White page is not going to destroy this book. It has likely made the Winter's uncomfortable or angry. It has certainly made others feel angry.

I do not think the Winter's are racist. I do think, however, that there's things they did not know that they do know now. I know for a fact that they have read what I've written. I know it was upsetting to them. That's ok, though. Learning about our own ignorance is unsettling. I have felt discomfort over my own ignorance, many times. In the end, what I do is try to help people see depictions of Native peoples from what is likely to be their non-Native perspective. I want books to be better than they are, now. And I also know that many writers value what I do.

Now, I'm hitting the upload button (at 8:30 AM on Tuesday, October 17th). I hope it is helpful to anyone who is reading the book or considering buying it. I may have typos in what I've written, or passages that don't make sense. Let me know! And of course, if you've got questions or comments, please let me know.

___________

If you've submitted a comment that includes a link to another site and it didn't work after you submitted the comment, I'll insert them here, alphabetically.

Caldecott Medal Contender: The Secret Project
submitted by Sam Juliano, who asked people to see comments, there, about me (note: tks to Ricky for letting me know I had the incorrect link for Sam Juliano's page. It is correct now.)

Guidelines for Respecting Cultural Knowledge (Assembly of Alaska Native Educators, 2000)
submitted by Melissa Green

Indigenous Intellectual Property (Wikipedia)
submitted by Melissa Green

Intellectual Property Rights (Hopi Cultural Preservation Office)
submitted by Melissa Green

Reviewing While White: The Secret Project
submitted by Melissa Green

Not Recommended: THE SECRET PROJECT by Jonah Winter and Jeanette Winter

Eds. Note on Oct 19, 2017: For a more in-depth review than the one below, see Still Not Recommended: The Secret Project. 

Eds. Note on 3/27/17: This review (below) was posted on a popular children's literature website but removed. For details, see What Happened to A Second Perspective at All the Wonders?



A reader wrote to ask if I've seen The Secret Project by Jonah Winter and Jeanette Winter. 

It was going into my "Debbie--have you seen series" but when I looked it up, I got a copy right away. Why? Because it has several starred reviews, and because its setting is so close to Nambe Pueblo (my tribal nation, and where I grew up is about 30 miles away).

The Secret Project came out in February of 2017 from Beach Lane Books, which is part of Simon and Schuster. It is a picture book for kids in grades K-3. 

Here's the synopsis:

Mother-son team Jonah and Jeanette Winter bring to life one of the most secretive scientific projects in history—the creation of the atomic bomb—in this powerful and moving picture book.

At a former boy’s school in the remote desert of New Mexico, the world’s greatest scientists have gathered to work on the “Gadget,” an invention so dangerous and classified they cannot even call it by its real name. They work hard, surrounded by top security and sworn to secrecy, until finally they take their creation far out into the desert to test it, and afterward the world will never be the same.

The Secret Project is getting a lot of starred reviews for its content and illustrations. Of course, I'm reading it from a Native point of view. Or, to be more specific, the point of view of a Pueblo Indian woman whose ancestors have been in that "remote desert of New Mexico" for thousands of years. 

The opening pages depict a boys school, all alone in the middle of a "desert mountain landscape":

That school was the Los Alamos Ranch School. The boys shown are definitely not from the communities of northern New Mexico at that time. In the Author's Note, the school is described as being an elite private academy (elsewhere, I read that William Borrough's went there). It was, and its history is interesting, too. What bothers me about those two pages, however, is that they suggest there was nothing there at all. It is like the text in Wilder's Little House on the Prairie. All through that area, there are ancestral homes of Pueblo Indians. Depicting the school that way adds to the idea that the site where the bomb would be developed was isolated, but depicting it that way also erases Native people. 

The government wanted the school and that area to do research, so the boys school had to close. The scientists moved in. We read that "nobody knows they are there." Who is nobody? It was, as the Winter's tell us, a secret project. But people who lived in the area knew it was there. They may not have known what was going on, but they knew it was there. If, by "nobody," we are meant to think "citizens of the world minus those who lived there" then yes, nobody knew (but again, nobody is relevant, even to them). 

We read that in "the faraway nearby" places, people didn't know the scientists were there. 

Artists, specifically, don't know they are there. The first image is meant to represent Georgia O'Keefe who lived in Abiquiu, which is about 50 miles away. It--I guess--is a "nearby" place. 

Then, there's this page:

The text on that page reads "Outside the laboratory, in the faraway nearby, Hopi Indians are carving beautiful dolls out of wood as they have done for centuries."

Hopi? That's over 300 miles away in Arizona. Technically, it could be the "faraway" place the Winter's are talking about, but why go all the way there? San Ildefonso Pueblo is 17 miles away from Los Alamos. Why, I wonder, did the Winter's choose Hopi? I wonder, too, what the take-away is for people who read the word "dolls" on that page? On the next page, one of those dolls is shown hovering over the lodge where scientists are working all night. What will readers make of that? 

On an ensuing page, we see the scientists take a break by going to "the nearby town" on what looks like a dirt road. That town is meant to be Santa Fe, and that particular illustration is meant to depict the plaza where Native artists sell their work (there's a Native woman shown, holding a piece of pottery). It wasn't a dirt road, though. By then, Santa Fe had paved roads. Showing it as a dirt road contributes to the isolated nature of where the scientists were doing their work, but it isn't accurate. 

Like many reviewers, I think the ending is provocative. The Secret Project ends with the test of the atomic bomb, at the Trinity site. As the bomb explodes, the scientists watch from a bunker, far away. The bomb's explosion fills the last page. That's it. No more story. I think some readers will think "AWESOME" and others will think it horrible. The author's note is next. It has information about the radiation that explosion left behind, how long it will be there, and that now, studies of the cancer it caused in citizens near there, are being done. 

I think children should have books about subjects like the development of the bombs that destroyed Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but they ought to be inclusive of -- in this case -- Native peoples who lived and live in and around Los Alamos. As is, the book yanks those readers out of the book. And, it misleads readers who don't know the area or its history. 

I suspect that people will defend it, telling me or others that "it is important that kids know about the bomb" and that my concern over its misrepresentations are of less importance than knowing about the bomb. With that defense, however, it will be among the ever-growing pile of books in which this or that topic is more important than Native people. 

The irony, of course, is that this universe of books is one in which books are written and published by people who are occupying Native homelands. 

Published in 2017 by Beach Lane Books/Simon and Schuster, I do not recommend Jonah and Jeanette Winter's The Secret Project. 

Update, March 22 2017, 1:45 PM

Back to insert comments from Dr. Jeff Berglund, a friend and colleague who teaches at Northern Arizona University. He said, in part (read his entire comment below):

"I have another issue with the Hopi panel: the majority of Hopi men during the 19th and through the mid-20th century had cut hair with bangs, quite distinct and different from the carver depicted. This is a simplistic stereotypical rendering of a Native man."

Update, March 22 2017, 3:30 PM

Another colleague--actually, she's more of a member of my family--wrote to tell me about a 2015 Walking Tour document of Los Alamos. Take a look. Here's an enlarged piece of the document, showing item 9:

I looked around a bit and found this photo of it from a running and travel blog, whose post says it is right behind Fuller Lodge:

Update, March 23, 2017

The folks at All the Wonders asked if they could put my review on their page about The Secret Project as a "Second Perspective." That's a terrific idea! Readers there can listen to the podcast review, read interviews with the author and his mother--and read my critical review, too. Here's a peek. Go there and see it, and thanks, All the Wonders for adding it.

Update, March 25, 2017

My review is no longer at the All the Wonders website. For details, see What Happened to "A Second Perspective" at All the Wonders? 

Can Kiera Drake's THE CONTINENT be revised?

Editors note, 2/19/18: See my review of the revised book. 

Kiera Drake's The Continent was slated for release in January of 2017 from Harlequin Teen. 

Questions from readers, however, prompted Harlequin Teen to postpone it. They didn't say they were canceling it. Just postponing it, which means they are trying to... fix it. 

Can Drake revise The Continent so that it will, eventually, be released? 

My answer: no.  

I have an arc (advanced reader copy). I hope my review of that ARC is useful to the author, her editor, her publisher, and anyone else who is writing, editing, reviewing, or otherwise working with a book that depicts Native people.

Let's start with the synopsis:

"Have we really come so far, when a tour of the Continent is so desirable a thing? We've traded our swords for treaties, our daggers for promises--but our thirst for violence has never been quelled. And that's the crux of it: it can't be quelled. It's human nature." 

For her sixteenth birthday, Vaela Sun receives the most coveted gift in all the Spire--a trip to the Continent. It seems an unlikely destination for a holiday: a cold, desolate land where two "uncivilized" nations remain perpetually locked in combat. Most citizens lucky enough to tour the Continent do so to observe the spectacle and violence of war, a thing long banished in the Spire. For Vaela--a talented apprentice cartographer--the journey is a dream come true: a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to improve upon the maps she's drawn of this vast, frozen land. 

But Vaela's dream all too quickly turns to a nightmare as the journey brings her face-to-face with the brutal reality of a war she's only read about. Observing from the safety of a heli-plane, Vaela is forever changed by the bloody battle waging far beneath her. And when a tragic accident leaves her stranded on the Continent, Vaela finds herself much closer to danger than she'd ever imagined. Starving, alone and lost in the middle of a war zone, Vaela must try to find a way home--but first, she must survive.

During the course of the story, we'll learn that the Spire is comprised of four nations: the West, the East, the South, and the North. 

Note: For each chapter below, summary is in plain text; my comments are in italics.

Chapter One

Chapter one opens with Vaela Sun's 16th birthday party in an ornate place in the Spire (a hundred million other people live there, too). Vaela has received three gifts from her parents. One is a ruby pendant on a gold chain that brings out the gold color of her hair. The second one is an elegantly framed map of the Continent that she drew based on her studies (she's a cartographer). The third gift is an official certificate of travel to the Continent. Trips to the Continent are very rare. There are only ten tours in a year, and only six guests on each tour.

My comments: Clearly, these are the most affluent people in this place called "the Spire." The name of the place embodies privilege. These two families are at the very top of that privilege.

Vaela and her parents dine with the Shaw's, who are highly placed in the Spire and used their influence to make the trip possible. At dinner, Vaela's father (Mr. Sun) and Mr. Shaw have this exchange (p. 15):

"Have you any thoughts, Mr. Shaw, about the natives on the Continent? I expect we shall see a good deal of fighting during our tour."

"I find them fascinating," says Mr. Shaw, leaning forward. I'm not as well-read on the natives as my boy Aaden here, but I think I favor the Topi. Seem a red-blooded sort--aggressive and primitive, they say."

"They are a popular favorite, to be sure," my father says. "Much more fearsome than the Aven'ei. I take no preference myself. But I admit, it will be interesting to see them at battle."

My comments: Prior to reading this book, I knew that other people who had read the ARC had identified the Topi as being representative of the Hopi Nation, and the Aven'ei as Japanese. My grandfather (now deceased) was Hopi, born and raised at one of the villages in Arizona. 

These wealthy white people, speaking of the Topi/Hopi as they do, is revolting. Native people, for these wealthy white people, are entertainment. When she wrote this book, did the author imagine that Native teens might read it? 

Vaela's mom (Mrs. Sun) was hoping they wouldn't see any bloodshed, but Aaden Shaw asks if there's any other reason to go to the Continent. Though there are spectacular landscapes, he says (p. 15),

"Let's be honest--it's not the scenery that has every citizen in the Spire clamoring to see the Continent. It's the war."

Mrs. Sun says she's not interested in seeing "natives slaughter one another" and Aaden presses her, asking her if she is prepared for it, because that is exactly what they will see. Mrs. Shaw says (p. 15):

"They've been railing at each other for centuries. I've never understood the fascination with it, myself. I'm right there with you, Mrs. Sun."

My comments: Did you take that idea--that these two peoples on the Continent have been at constant, bloody, war with each other for centuries--as fact? If so, I think it reflects the degree to which you've been taught to think about those who are labeled as primitive, less-than-human other.

Mr. Sun and Mr. Shaw talk about how, from the safety of the heli-plane, they can observe war. Mr. Shaw says (p. 16):

"We take for granted that the Spire is a place without such primitive hostilities--that we have transcended the ways of war in favor of peace and negotiation. To see the Topi and the Aven'ei in conflict is to look into our past--and to appreciate how far we have come."

Aaden wishes he could be on the ground and see the fighting up close, but Mr. Shaw prefers a safe distance from arrows and hatchets. Mrs. Sun thinks it is a "dreadful shame" they've not been able to sort out their differences, and Mrs. Shaw rolls her eyes (p. 16):

"I say let them kill each other. One day they'll figure out that war suits no one, or else they'll drive themselves to extinction. Either way, it makes no difference to me."

Mrs. Sun reminds them that they are people, but Mrs. Shaw says they're people without good sense to know there are civilized ways to solve disagreements. Mr. Shaw relies:

"Before the Four Nations united to become the Spire, the people of our own lands were just as brutal, ever locked in some conflict or another. And see how far we have come? There may be hope yet for the Topi and the Aven'ei." 

Later, Vaela's mother asks her if she'll be all right with the violence she'll see. Vaela replies (p. 17):

It's what they do Mother. You oughtn't be so concerned. I know what to expect--we've all read the histories. The natives fight, and fight, and fight some more. Over land or territory or whatever it is--I've never quite understood--the war goes on and on. It never changes."

My comments: This idea--of using people--to measure ones own progress towards "civilization" is more than just a story. At the 1893 World Columbian Exposition in Chicago, exhibits featured living Native peoples. The goal was to show fair-goers different evolutionary stages that placed Native peoples at the savage end of the exhibit, and white people at the other. Another example of using Native people as an exhibit was Ishi.    

Chapter Two

The Shaws and the Suns board the plane. Mrs. Shaw is surprised with the small windows. Aaden tells her (p. 25):

"Don't worry, they're big enough. I expect you won't have any trouble watching the Topi chop the Aven'ei to pieces."

Mrs. Shaw looks at Mr. Shaw. She says Aaden's vulgarity is his fault, for giving him "all those books about the Continent."

The plane takes off. Later, looking out a window, Aaden sees four natives. Mrs. Shaw is thrilled and asks if they're Aven'ei or Topi (p. 31):

"They're Aven'ei," Aaden says. "The Topi don't live this far south or east. In any case, you can tell from their clothing--see how everything is sort of mute and fitted? The Topi are more ostentatious--they wear brighter colors, fringed sleeves, bone helmets--that sort of thing."

Mrs. Shaw thinks he's kidding about the helmets, but he says (p. 32):

"What better way to antagonize the Aven'ei than by flaunting the bones of their fallen comrades?" 

Mrs. Shaw goes on, saying that the Topi are vulgar and warmongering. She heard from a Mrs. Galfeather, that (p. 32-33):

"...there's nothing to the Topi but bloodlust. That's precisely the word she used: bloodlust. She says we know nothing else about them because there's naught else to know, and that they've bullied the Aven'ei for eons."

Aaden responds that they're not bullies but is interrupted by Mr. Shaw, who has noticed what he thinks are flags hanging from a bridge. They peer down and realize they're not flags, but bodies. Vaela watches...  (p. 33):

One of the strips swivels on its cable, and as it turns, I see the rotted face of a Topi warrior, his bone helmet shattered on one side, his arms bound tightly at the wrists."

My comments: Bloodlust. An echo of "blood thirsty" Indians. 

Chapter Three

Everyone is unsettled by what they saw. Vaela tells her dad she's fine. She thinks (p. 34):

The war between the natives is the stuff of legend--isn't it only natural to be curious about the morbid truth of things? Perhaps Aaden was right when he said that everyone has some interest in the conflict between the Topi and the Aven'ei--though my mother seems to be a rare exception to this rule.

I think the lot of us were simply unprepared to see anything macabre at that moment; we were so distracted and enthralled by our first view of the landscape, marveling at the unexpected appearance of the Aven'ei, and then... the bodies. Decayed and frightening and real. Unexpected. 

They all sit quietly, pretending not to be bothered. Vaela thinks it is easier to pretend a disinterest, rather than to admit how disturbing it was to see those bodies. Later, Aaden and Vaela talk about their safety at the Spire being a luxury they've earned after many centuries during which the Four Nations were at war. Aaden says (p. 36):

But have we really come so far, when a tour of the Continent is a desirable thing? We've traded our swords for treaties, our daggers for promises--but our thirst for violence has never been quelled. And that's the crux of it: it can't be quelled. 

Vaela's dad disagrees, saying that human nature compels them to seek peace, as they did in the Spire. The desire to see the natives at war on the Continent, he says, is just curiosity. Eventually they get to Ivanel, an island, which is their destination. Like their home at the Spire, the rooms at Ivanel are opulent. Everyone settles in for the night.

My comments: Aaden's remarks about war and violence as part of the human condition... what to make of that? 

Chapter Four

The plan is an airplane tour of the Continent. The steward of Ivanel is their tour guide, pointing out geography, where the fights are taking place, and that of the land masses of their planet, the Continent is the least populated. Its population is in decline due to warfare. They fly over an Aven'ei town, and then (p. 47):

Before long, the plane is headed north, and we fly over an expansive network of Topi villages. The architecture is different from that of the Aven'ei: cruder harsher, yet terribly formidible, even in the frozen, icy territory the Topi call home. The little towns, too, are much closer together than Aven'ei villages; I am reminded of an ant colony, with many chambers all connected together, working to support a single purpose. 

My comments: The description of the Topi villages confirms that they're based on the Hopi people. The Hopis in Arizona and the Pueblos in New Mexico are related. We're descendants of what is commonly called "cliff dwellers." Here's an aerial photo that sounds precisely like what Vaela is describing:

Pueblo Bonito is in Chaco Canyon. It is one of many sites like that, in the Southwest. For a long time, the National Park Service called them homes of the Anasazi--who had disappeared--but today, that error is gone. These are all now regarded as homes of Ancestral Puebloans. Vaela, and perhaps Kiera Drake, look upon them and thinks of ants. Insects. Need I say how offensive that is? 

The plane gets low enough for Vaela to see the villagers, who are "singularly dark of hair, with beautiful bronzed skin" (p. 47).

My comments: That's one of the (many) passages that needed some work. The Topi village is in the icy, frozen north. How, I wonder, can she see the skin color? Later we're going to read about their clothing for this climate. 

Aaden is drawn to the buildings, exclaiming (p. 47):

"Look at the paint! It must be sleet and ice nearly all year round, yet the buildings are blood red, sunshine yellow--incredible!"

The tour continues. They come upon a clearing where a battle is happening. Vaela looks out the window and is taken by the blood, everywhere, on the stark white of the land. Topi men decapitate an Aven'ei man, and then hurl the severed head up towards the plane. 

My comments: Though the amount of space Drake gives to the scene is just over a page in length, her description makes it loom large. It feels gratuitous, too. Intended, I think, for us to remember how brutal war is--but especially how brutal the Topi are. 

Chapter Five

Back at Ivanel, Vaela grasps the violence in a way she had not, before. She understands the difference between spectacle and death. Rather than go up in the plane again, Vaela and Aaden will go on a walking tour, led by the steward. His name is Mr. Cloud. He is a Westerner and has "beautiful dark skin" and "blue eyes so pale they are nearly white" (p. 55). Aaden and Vaela talk about the battle. Recalling history she says (p. 59):

The whole thing was dreadful. And to think, all those years ago, each was offered a place as a nation of the Spire if only their quarrels could be set aside. But they chose dissension. They chose death and blood and perpetual hostility. Why?

Aaden tells her that the Aven'ei wanted to unite with the Spire but the Topi did not (p. 59):

"It was the Topi who refused--they wanted nothing to do with our people from the very first; we were never able to establish even the simplest trade with them." He scuffs his foot along the side of the rock and shakes his head. "It was different with the Aven'ei. They traded peacefully for decades with the East and the West--right up until the Spire was formed."

Vaela wonders what the Aven'ei could possibly have, that the people of the Spire would want. Aaden chides her but she goes on, saying they are such a primitive culture. Aaden tells her that all things aren't measured in gold, that it was Aven'ei art and culture that Spire people desired. He reminds her of all the things in the Spire that are clearly influenced by Aven'ei aesthetic. Vaela wonders what the Aven'ei might have received in trade with the Spire. Weapons, she wonders, that might help them fight? Aaden tells her that the Aven'ei adopted the language of the Spire. 

He also tells her that when the Continent was discovered 270 years ago, the Four Nations made a treaty amongst themselves that prohibited them from giving weapons to anyone on the Continent. There was trade, however, for a while. The East got lumber from the Aven'ei, and gave the Aven'ei agricultural wealth (crops and cattle). Vaela wonders why the Aven'ei didn't join the Four Nations. Aaden tells her that part of the treaty said that, in order to join, they would have to stop being a warring country. If they did that, the Topi would massacre them. 

My comment: In each passage about the Topi and the Aven'ei, we see more and more that of the two, it is the Topi who are most primitive. 

Chapter Six

The next day, the group gets on the plane again for another tour. Something goes wrong. Vaela's dad puts her in a safety pod. The plane crashes.

Chapter Seven

The pod lands in snow. After the third day, Vaela sets off, hoping to get to Avanel. At the end of the chapter, she's exhausted. Sitting against a tree, she hears what she thinks is the rescue plane. 

Chapter Eight

Vaela gets up and runs towards the sound, then to a field. At the far end, she sees "a Topi warrior" bent over in the snow, a hatchet and dead squirrels beside him. He doesn't see her, so she decides to run into the field and wave at the plane. She does, but another Topi does see her. He's got red and yellow paint on his face and a quiver of arrows on his back. "The warrior's expression" is one of curiosity, not fierce. He calls to the other one. She runs, an arrow whizzes past her. She falls. He catches her, ties her hands together, rolls her over onto her back and looks into her face. His breath reeks of fish and decay as he speaks to her. The other warrior joins them. One jabs an arrow into her thigh. He hits her and she passes out. 

My comments: Drake's use of "warrior" when she could have said "man" adds to the overall depiction of the Topi as warlike. That first guy? He was hunting. We don't know about the second one. But having his breath smell of decay... Drake is slowly but surely making the Topi out to be less than human. 

Chapter Nine

Vaela comes to. She's on the ground on her back. The first Topi warrior she saw is with her. He grins at her; she notes his teeth, "blackened by whatever root he is chewing" (p. 88). He gives her some meat and berries. The other one returns later. Using a knife he draws a map in the dirt. She shows him where the Spire is. 

Evening comes and the two men drink, "becoming increasingly boisterous" (p. 91). The first one finally passes out. The second one, however, yanks her to her feet and pulls her to him. There's a sticky white substance at the corners of his mouth. He buries his face in her hair and then starts kissing her her face and neck. She knows his intentions are "lustful." Suddenly, he falls away, a knife embedded in his neck. Another man, clad head to toe, in black. In the firelight she sees his "high cheekbones, dark almond-shaped eyes that slope gently upward at the corners, full lips" (p. 94).  He speaks to her, in English.

My comments: Ah... the Drunken Indian stereotype. This drunk Topi, however, goes further. He's going to rape this blond haired white woman. This is SUCH A TROPE. Some stores have rows of romance novels with a white woman on the cover, in the arms of an Indian man. She might be struggling; she might not be. He is usually depicted as handsome.

Drake's menacing Native man is more like what we see in children's books. Like... this page in The Matchlock Gun: 

Or in this scene from the television production of Little House on the Prairie (the part where they approach Ma is at the 1:45 mark, and again, at the 2:30 mark):

Here's a screen cap from the 2:10 mark:

Chapter Ten

Hearing English spoken to her is a healing ointment on her heart. He asks where she is from. She tells him she's from the Spire (p. 96):

His mouth opens slightly and his dark brows rise up an inch or so. "You come from the Nations Beyond the Sea." It is not so much a question as a realization.

Their conversation continues. She tells him she was on a tour in the heli-plane. He wonders what that is, she tells him, and he tells her they call them anzibatu, or, skyships. He asks her why she was on a tour, saying "you come to watch us [...] like animals in a menagerie?" He wonders why they don't interfere in their fighting. She tells him their fighting is a curiosity, regrets saying it, and tries to explain that it is complicated. He ends the conversation telling her they'll leave in the morning. She asks where he intends to take her. He responds that she isn't a prisoner and can go with him if she wants to, or, stay where they are. Vaela asks him what is name is; he tells her he is called Noro. She thanks him for saving her life. 

My comments: Another trope! In children's books about European arrival on what came to be known as the American continent, Native people are shown as being in awe of Europeans. 

A small point, but annoying nonetheless: As Aaden noted in chapter five, the Aven'ei adopted English. I suppose Drake wrote that into the story so that Vaela and Noro could easily communicate, but some of the logic of words/concepts he knows (and doesn't know) feels inconsistent to me. He doesn't know the word heli-plane but does know menagerie (and later, "propriety" but doesn't know "technology").

Last point: Damsel's in distress, saved by a man, are annoying. Also annoying are female characters who run, trip, and are caught by bad guys. That happened in chapter five when Vaela was running away from the Topi man.   

The next day, Noro thinks he should tend to Vaela's wounded thigh, but she's uneasy with having him touch her or see her bare leg. She relents, he cleans and bandages the wound, and she tells him this is the second time he's saved her. They set off. 

That evening, Noro asks if other people in the Spire look like Vaela, with her "golden hair" and "eyes like the leaves of an evergreen" (p. 105). She tells him that the people in the West are dark-skinned with pale blue eyes, those in the North have pale skin and white hair, those in the South are olive-skinned with dark hair, and those in the East (where she is from) are often pale, with blue or green eyes. 

My comments: Another trope! Time and again in children's books, writers depict Native people as in awe of blonde--or sometimes red--hair. 

Chapter Eleven

Vaela is getting sick. Towards the end of the chapter, Noro has to carry her for awhile. He wants to take her to a healer when they get to his village but she's afraid of what that healer will do (leeches are one possibility). She insists that Noro take her to the village leaders first. He agrees. They arrive at the village.

Chapter Twelve

As they walk through the village, Vaela is surprised and impressed at their rich culture. She meets Noro's ten-year-old brother, Keiji. In Noro's cottage, she notices a tapestry on the wall, and a carved bookcase full of books. She learns that Noro is one of the few assassins they have. They "eliminate Topi leaders." Without the assassins, "the Topi would have wiped us from the Continent long ago" (p. 125).  

My comments: Earlier, I noted that the author (Kiera Drake) was, as the story unfolded, drawing a distinction between the Topi and the Aven'ei. The description of the tapestry and books add a lot. They are definitely not "uncivilized." 

Vaela and Noro go to the meeting with the village leaders. They deny her request to be taken back to Ivanel because it is dangerous to try to be on the sea during this part of the year, and, because they're at war. Noro takes Vaela to Eno's (the healer) cottage.

Chapter Thirteen

Vaela spends several weeks under the care of Eno. Keiji visits but Noro does not.

Chapter Fourteen

When she's well, Keiji takes her to her own cottage. It is furnished much like Keiji and Noro's. Sofa, bookshelf, books. She looks around the main room, the kitchen, her bedroom, and a room with a bash basin and a chamber pot. Later she goes to visit Noro, who tells her the leaders want to see her again, to assign her a job. She tells Noro about "the Lonely Islands" (p. 148) of the Spire. Citizens who don't want to work are "invited" to relocate to that place. Some choose to go, others are sent.  

Chapter Fifteen

Vaela begins work as a field hand, scooping and hauling cow manure. Noro gave her some money to use until she gets paid. She goes to the market, where an old woman remarks on her gold hair, with its "strings of sunshine." The woman offers Vaela three, then four, then five oka (coins) for it but Vaela says no. Vaela meets a young woman, Yuki Sanzo (they're going to become good friends). 

My comments: the fascination/value again of blonde hair...  

Yuki tells her the war is because of a debt, and that now, the Topi (p. 159):

"understand the riches of the south. The fertility of our soil, the safety of our shoes. The agriculture we have cultivated. They love the north, but desire what the north cannot deliver. And so they seek to take it from us, here in the south and east."

Vaela tells Yuki that on the Spire, they found a way to share resources and that perhaps, someday, the Topi and Aven'ei will do that, too. 

My comments: This depiction of the Topi as hunter/gatherers who don't know how to farm is common, in fiction, nonfiction, and textbooks, too. It is an error, especially given that the Topi are based on the Hopi, who for thousands of years, cultivated corn in the southwest. Doing that required sophisticated irrigation systems. This is well-described in Roxane Dunbar-Ortiz's book (An Indigenous Peoples History of the U.S.)  This widespread misrepresentation lays the groundwork for justifying occupation and colonization of Native lands. 

Chapter Sixteen

Vaela does her work, and thinks about how she could make a map that the Aven'ei could use in their war against the Topi. 

Chapter Seventeen

On a visit, Yuki realizes that Vaela doesn't know how to take care of herself or cook, either. She teaches her. Noro visits; Vaela tells him she wants to visit the council about improvements in the village. Specifically, she tells him about toilets and how they work. He's disgusted with the idea of having a privy inside the house. 

Chapter Eighteen

Vaela tells Yuki the villagers give her odd looks. Yuki tells her they're just wary of her. Yuki tells her she needs to have a knife with her at all times because the Continent is not the Spire. Vaela thinks the Topi wouldn't come to the village. Yuki isn't sure of anything. 

Chapter Nineteen

Keiji starts teaching Vaela how to fight; Noro calls Vaela "miyake" which means "my love."

Chapter Twenty

Noro reports that there are Topi nearby and asks Vaela to draw a map of where they are; they take the map to the leaders. Noro gives Vaela a set of throwing knives. 

Chapter Twenty-One

When Noro is teaching Vaela how to use a knife to kill someone, quickly, and quietly. Vaela asks if that is the technique that Noro used on the Topi who found her after the crash. He nods; she says that the Topi was kind to her, that he gave her food. Noro gets angry that she grieves for the Topi, and tells her she cannot look upon them as men. They are the enemy. She tells him the Topi are people, too. Yuki is angry at her, too, telling her that the Topi might put her head on a pike. Vaela counters that the Aven'ei are brutal, too, and recounts the bodies they saw from the plane. Another person who is with them, Takashi, says that Vaela makes a valid point. Yuki and Takashi start arguing. Vaela tries to get them to stop, and Yuki tells her that she is, and will always be, an outsider. 

My comments: in that passage and before, Vaela seems to be wanting to help. That, however, is another problem with how she is developed. She's a white character, entering a place of Native and People of Color, attempting to improve their lives--according to her standards. This a white savior. 

Chapter Twenty-Two

The Topi come into the village. Noro goes out to fight, telling Vaela to stay in the bedroom with her knives. But later, she starts thinking she can at least kill one Topi (p. 216):

If I were to try and fight, I would almost surely die. But I might kill one. One Topi whose thirst for blood cannot be quenched except in death.

She goes outside. As she walks she hears rhythmic pounding. She remembers Yuki talking about the drums of war. She sees a Topi and maps out a route to position herself. She notices he's got his eyes fixed on someone that she recognizes to be Keiji. He's struck in the neck. She rushes to him. Noro and another assassin get there, too. Noro goes looking for the Topi who shot Keiji. Vaela thinks the Topi archer "does not have long to live."

My comments: When I started this chapter-by-chapter read, I noted that a Native reader--and especially one who is Hopi--would have a different experience than, perhaps, most others who read these passages about killing. To make them as brutal as possible, this Topi is firing at a child (remember, Keiji is only ten years old).

Chapter Twenty-Three

They take Keiji to a healer. Noro arrives shortly. Vaela asks if he killed the Topi archer and replies "good" when he says he did. Noro tells her she would not have killed a Topi. Instead, she would have been killed, and if not that, she'd have been "captured, raped and beaten--kept to be used by any savage who wanted you" (p. 225). 

My comments: On the heels of the Topi warrior who shot a child, Drake puts forth a scenario where a "savage" rapes, beats, and uses the blonde as he wishes. 

Vaela tells Noro she wants to return to the Spire to get help. Noro tells her they already know what is happening, that they've known for over 200 years and not intervened. Vaela is sure she can persuade them. She promises she'll return (p. 229):

I give you my word I will return. And when I do, I will bring peace to the Continent. One way or another, I will ring peace.

My comments: Again, Drake depicts her main character as a white savior.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The village leaders approve of Vaela's plan to return to the Spire. Noro will take her to Ivanel. 

Chapter Twenty-Five

Vaela and Noro arrive on Ivanel. He's impressed with the building and the glass windows. She tells him it has other things, too, like an indoor swimming pool, racquet courts, cedar saunas, and toilets. Soon after that, they say their good-byes. Noro leaves Ivanel.

My comments: that scene strikes me as tone deaf and heartless. Didn't they just spend hours with Keiji, worried for his life? I guess out-of-sight, out-of-mind... 

Chapter Twenty-Six

Valea plans for her return to the Spire where she will try to persuade the Heads of State to intervene.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Vaela arrives at her home at the Spire.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Vaela goes to the Chancellery for her meeting with the sweet-faced Mr. Lowe of the West who has dark skin and pale eyes, Mr. Wey of the East who is a scholarly man in spectacles, Mr. Chamberlain of the South, who is sickly looking, has a slender mustache, and watery eyes, and Mrs. Pendergrast of the North who looks like she spent her life sucking on sour candy. Vaela notices that Mr. Lowe and Mrs. Pendergrast avoid each other. 

Mr. Lowe thinks the Aven'ei could be relocated to the Spire. Mrs. Pendergrast thinks they're uncivilized and should not be brought there. Vaela tells them the Aven'ei are not uncivilized, but that they wouldn't leave their homes. Mr. Lowe asks her what she wants, then, if not to help them relocate. 

Vaela says she wants the Spire to build a wall between the Aven'ei and the Topi. Mr. Lowe thinks it a good idea but Mrs. Pendergrast wonders who will pay for it, and that they don't have sufficient resources to "erect walls for a bunch of savages" (p. 263). The chancellor takes a vote. The only one who votes yes is Mr. Lowe. The four argue with Mr. Lowe about peace and the value of their own lives over those of the Aven'ei. Vaela leaves, angry. 

My comments: A wall? I don't know how long trump (lower case t for his name is not a typo) has been talking about a wall. I don't know when Drake came up with this part of her novel. Timing is unfortunate, but the idea... THE IDEA of a wall... introduced to young readers as a solution, delivered by the wealthy--in this case, Vaela Sun of the East Nation of the Spire--to the "uncivilized" peoples of the Continent... it reeks, Ms. Drake! Nobody in the novel says "that's messed up." This idea, of this wall, is put forth, uncritically. 

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Vaela waits for the Chancellor to make arrangements for her to return to the Continent.

Chapter Thirty

Vaela reunites with Noro and tells him the Spire is not coming to help. 

Chapter Thirty-One

Vaela settles back into her cottage and working on the farm but gets into an argument with Shoshi (he owns the farm and is one of the village leaders). He calls her a "takaharu" and tells her to leave and never return. 

Vaela tells Yuki what happened and what he called her. The word "takaharu" means someone who is promiscuous, wanton, and revels in the sexual company of the enemy. Yuki thinks Vaela should tell Noro of this slander of her honor, but Vaela dismisses that idea, saying "Oh, honestly, you Aven'ei! My honor is intact."  

Chapter Thirty-Two

Noro tells Vaela that it was the Aven'ei that started this war with the Topi, when the Aven'ei thought it would be an easy thing to take land from the Topi. He says they didn't anticipate "what they would become."

My comments: What were they before? Peaceful? Why did the Aven'ei think they could easily take the land? Did they view the Topi as child-like? Primitive? 

Chapter Thirty-Three

The Aven'ei have gathered and are making ready for war. One evening, Yuki sings a song about a battle at Sana-Zo. The group talks about their final stand happening at the Southern Vale where they've gathered. After the battle, she says, only the Topi will be left to sing about the battle (p. 289):

"They don't sing," Noro says. "They howl." 

They all laugh.

My comments: Native people depicted as animal-like... If you're a regular reader of AICL, you know that happens a lot. If you have a copy of Little House on the Prairie, pull it out and read it. See how many ways Wilder depicts Native people as animal-like. Of course, that depiction is unacceptable.

On the third day at Southern Vale, the Topi "swarm" and "look like ants" as they fill the Vale. There are eight thousand of them, and only four thousand of the Aven'ei. Vaela hears drums again, along with "the clamoring insect noise of the Topi" (p. 293). The battles begin. Vaela and Noro are separated. 

My comments: Here, Drake returns to an earlier characterization of the Topi as being ants. This time, though, she adds that they swarm and make insect noises. Need I say why this is offensive? 

Chapter Thirty-Four

Gory fighting begins. Vaela kills a Topi man. She's repulsed by it but wants to do it again. She comes across a Topi whose intestines are spread across his belly. She kills him out of mercy. She looks up and sees another, a few feet away. He has yellow face paint and is grinning at her. She throws two knives at him, turns, and runs. He chases her, grabs her hair, throws her down. He snarls at her and chokes her. Her hands drop to her side, she finds another knife and starts stabbing him. He throws her down and just as he is about to strike her with his axe, Shoshi arrives and kills him. She turns, kills another Topi. Vaela and Shoshi stand together, looking across the field. Most Aven'ei are dead. There are still many Topi. She hears a buzz, looks up, and sees twelve heli-planes. The Spire has come, after all.

My comments: I'm at the end of my patience with this chapter-by-chapter read. What comes to mind each time I read that is the helicopter scene from Apocalypse Now, where they American forces blast Ride of the Valkyries. 

Chapter Thirty-Five

The heli-planes hover low, over the field of battle. From one, an amplified voice booms, telling them to cease fighting, to cease the war, to stop, or they will be killed. The fighting doesn't stop, so, the men in the heli-planes start shooting. Topi men fall, "by the hundreds" (p. 305). The fighting stops. Some Topi howl at the heli-planes. The voice booms again, telling them to return to their own territories and not to pass onto the other's realm again. The Topi move westward; the Aven'ei move to the east. 

The voice, Vaela realizes, is Mr. Lowe. It booms again, asking her to come to the heli-plane. Once there, she says she doesn't know what to say. He tells her she said all that needed saying, back at the Chancellory. The West chose to act alone, which led to a dissolution of the Spire. Mr. Lowe tells Vaela they (the West) will build the wall that she suggested. The war is over. He (Mr. West) will see to it. 

Vaela reunites with Noro. He says it is time to bury the dead and help the wounded. She tells him they can live a life now, without war. He says "we shall see" and she replies (p. 312):

It is done now," I say, gesturing up at the heli-planes. "The West has come to ensure peace. You need never wear the shadow of the itzatsune again."

They kiss. She thinks that she knows peace, once again, for now, and that sometimes, now is enough.

The story ends. 

My comments: White saviors abound! In booming voices they tell those two warring peoples to.... go to their rooms. And, of course, they do as they're told! And just to make sure they don't get into any more fights, those white saviors are going to erect a wall to keep them apart. Those booming White voices will make sure peace reigns. 

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Moving out of italics, now, for some background information and closing thoughts on Kiera Drake's The Continent.  As noted at the start of this page, the release for the book was postponed so the author could revisit it and make revisions. Prior to that announcement, there had been a lot of incisive discussion of the book on Twitter. 

Drake responded to it on November 5, 2016. Here's the first paragraph of her response:

I am saddened by the recent controversy on Twitter pertaining to THE CONTINENT. I abhor racism, sexism, gender-ism, or discrimination in any form, and am outspoken against it, so it was with great surprise and distress that I saw the comments being made about the book. I want everyone to know that I am listening, I am learning, and I am trying to address concerns about the novel as thoughtfully and responsibly as possible.

On November 7, 2016, author Zoraida Córdova wrote An Open Letter on Fantasy World Building and Keira Drake's Apology.

That same day, Halequin Teen posted this notice at their Tumblr page:

The assumption is that the book can be revised.  

Is that possible? What would Drake change? In her response on November 5, she wrote:

THE CONTINENT was written with a single theme in mind: the fact that privilege allows people to turn a blind eye to the suffering of others. It is not about a white savior, or one race vs. another, or any one group of people being superior to any other. Every nation, and every character in the book is flawed.

Almost three months ago, Drake felt that Vaela is not a white savior. Has she changed her mind? Does my close read help her see that it is, indeed, a white savior story? Ironically, (to quote her words), she seems to be blind to the suffering of others. She seems to think that every nation and every character in her book is flawed. I wouldn't argue with that statement. It is the degree to which they're flawed, and the ability of readers to SEE them as flawed that is the problem. She herself doesn't seem to be able to see the white savior! It is right there on the last pages!

Elsewhere on her site, there's a description of the book:

Keira Drake‘s young adult fantasy, THE CONTINENT, is part action adventure, part allegory, and part against-the-odds survival story. Engaging with questions of social responsibility, the nature of peace and violence, and the value (and danger) of nationalism, Drake’s debut is as thought-provoking as it is fast-paced and surprising, a heart-pounding and heartbreaking story of strength and survival.

Her story rests completely upon the idea that one of these peoples--the Topi (the Native people)--are utterly barbaric. They're animal like. They're insect like. None of that is effectively challenged by anyone in the story or by the author, either, in how any of the characters think. There is that one scene when Noro and Yuki are angry at her for trying to tell them the Topi aren't the only ones who are brutal, but overwhelmingly, Drake's characters think of them as less-than. 

She could rewrite parts of the story so that someone says WTF are you doing thinking of these people as insects right away when Vaela first thinks of the Topi as ants, but who would do that? And what would it do to the rest of the story? It seems to me it would need a massive rewrite. 

Drake may have set out to write a book about social responsibility, the nature of peace and violence, the value and danger of nationalism, but again, who is the audience? As I said above, I seriously doubt that she ever thought of a Native reader. If we add Native readers to the audience, what do they have to endure so that all the other readers discern Drake's themes? Yes, they could set the book down. They don't have to read it. Or... do they? What if it is assigned in school? Given the state of the world, teachers might think it the perfect novel to discuss what is happening in so many places. 

I might be back with more thoughts, later. I'll certainly be back to fix typos and formatting errors I've missed, or clarify thoughts that--on a second or third read--need work. I may be back to write about the Discussion Questions that are at the end of the book. They were not in my ARC, but colleagues who have an ARC with the questions sent them to me.
  
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See:

Justina Ireland's The Continent, Carve the Mark, and the Dark Skinned Aggressor

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Update on Feb 1, 2016, at 8:45 AM:
I've learned that there was more discussion of the book on January 23rd. It prompted Drake to respond. Here's part of what she said:

While I cannot control what others may say, I can communicate to you here in very clear terms that I value criticism, have listened to all feedback concerning the book, and am working to address those concerns. I remain tremendously appreciative to those in the writing community who offered constructive insight, guidance, and feedback in regard to THE CONTINENT. I feel very blessed to have such an incredible network of friends, critics, readers, and industry professionals at my side, and am so grateful to Harlequin TEEN for allowing me the opportunity to revise before publication. I see with clarity that the comparisons drawn between the fictitious peoples of the book and those of existing cultures are valid and important, and, once again, wish to communicate how sorry I am that the original version of the book reflected these and other harmful representations.