Showing posts sorted by date for query If I Ever Get Out of Here. Sort by relevance Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by date for query If I Ever Get Out of Here. Sort by relevance Show all posts

Wednesday, April 07, 2021

Highly Recommended: WHEN THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD WAS SUBDUED, OUR SONGS CAME THROUGH: A NORTON ANTHOLOGY OF NATIVE NATIONS POETRY, edited by Joy Harjo




When the Light of the World Was Subdued, Our Songs Came Through:
A Norton Anthology of Native Nations Poetry
Edited by Joy Harjo (Mvskoke), with LeAnne Howe (Choctaw), 
Jennifer Elise Forester (Mvskoke), and Contributing Editors
Cover art by Emmi Whitehorse (Navajo)
Published in 2020
Publisher: W.W. Norton and Company
Review Status: Highly Recommended
Reviewer: Debbie Reese

****

I watched the livestream when this Norton Anthology of Native Nations Poetry, When the Light of the World Was Subdued, Our Songs Came Through was launched on August 21 at Collected Works Bookstore in Santa Fe. I love the title, and I love seeing "Native Nations" in the subtitle! 

Luci Tapahonso (Diné) was there, with Joy. Thinking about it this morning makes me smile as I recall the warmth between these two Native women. And I recall Harjo's reading of "Rabbit Is Up To Tricks." It was weeks before the presidential election. When you read or listen to it, you will likely feel the same chill I felt. That poem was first published in Harjo's 2015 book, Conflict Resolution for Holy Beings. 

Last year when the anthology was published, I wrote about Marcie Rendon's poem, "What's an Indian Woman to Do?" Since then, I page through my copy of the book and see names of people I know and think that I've got to do a blog post about their poems, especially for teachers who are using their books. Here at American Indians in Children's Literature and elsewhere, I've written about poems and stories and books by Kimberly M. Blaser, Elizabeth Cook-Lynn, Heid E. Erdrich, Louise Erdrich, Eric Gansworth, Joy Harjo, Layli Long Soldier, Deborah A. Miranda, Simon Ortiz, Marcie Rendon, Kim Shuck, Leslie Marmon Silko, Luci Tapahonso, Laura Tohe, Mark Turcotte, James Welch, Gwen Westerman, Tanaya Winder, and Ofelia Zepeda. Teachers who assign their works can add their poems to the author studies they do of these wonderful Native writers. For each writer in the book, you'll find their tribal nation listed by their name. 

The anthology has 161 poets! I recognize some names but not all of them. As we move what I hope is the end of the weight of the pandemic, I hope to read them all. I'm grateful to Harjo and the editors for the care that went into this anthology. I recommend you study her introduction to it, too. Among the passages that stand out for me is this one (page 3): 
Many who open the doors of this text arrive here with only stereotypes of indigenous peoples that keep indigenous peoples bound to a story in which none of us ever made it out alive. In that story we cannot be erudite poets, scholars, and innovative creative artists. It is the intent of the editors to challenge this: for you to open the door to each poem and hear a unique human voice speaking to you beyond, within, and alongside time. This collection represents the many voices of our peoples, voices that range through time, across many lands and waters.
One of the voices I found inside is Chief Seattle. Many people feel they know him and his writing, due to the ways a speech he gave in 1854 have been mis-used by non-Native writers. Some of you may recall the criticism I've written of Susan Jeffers's book that uses that speech. In the anthology you'll find a different excerpt. 

Over time, I'll write about poems in the book. For now, I want to draw your attention to the art on the cover. Yesterday as I gazed out the window, in the early dawn and in the late afternoon, I was thinking about the quality of the light. Beside me on the table was When the Light of the World Was Subdued. I wonder if my unconscious mind was at work, forming links from the light to the book cover. Here's the cover again, in a larger size than I used above:



This morning as I thought about the book I wanted to know more about Emmi Whitehorse. At Chiaroscuro, she wrote this about her work:
My paintings tell the story of knowing land over time - of being completely, micro-cosmically within a place. I am defining a particular space, describing a particular place. They are purposefully meditative and meant to be seen slowly. The intricate language of symbols refer to specific plants, people and experiences."
The art on the cover is titled Kin Nah Zin #223. Whitehorse created it in 1983. For me, it has depth that reflects the fact that we, Native peoples of the continent currently known as North America, have been here, always. And the qualities of the light--its very presence as rendered by Whitehorse--shine light on what was, and what will be, too. If I was a poet I might have the words needed to say what I feel as I look at that cover and think about the anthology and about Harjo, too, and the light she brings forth.

Yesterday (April 6, 2021) I watched a zoom event that featured Harjo. Like the poems she writes and the music she creates, the words she spoke yesterday are ones that I will return to. You can watch it, too, on YouTube. As noted above, I highly recommend When the Light of the World Was Subdued, Our Songs Came Through. Get a copy for yourself and ask your library to get a copy for their collections. 

And... a couple of ideas that take you from an admirer to an activist! If your institution is among those that are doing land acknowledgments, look for a poet of the people that your acknowledgment names. Use the anthology to find one, and read that poem at your gathering or meeting or conference. Go to your bookstore and library, and put in requests for other writings by the poets in your area. 


Monday, February 01, 2021

Not Recommended: THE BRAVE by James Bird

The Brave
Written by James Bird
Published by Feiwel and Friends (Macmillan)
Publication Year: 2020
Reviewed by Debbie Reese
Review Status: Not Recommended

A reader wrote to ask if we have read or reviewed The Brave by James Bird. I was aware of the book but had not yet ordered or reviewed it. The reader's question prompted me to see how it was being received. I see it has some starred reviews from major children's literature journals. But I also saw that Ojibwe scholar David Treuer gave it a scathing review in The New York Times. It was similarly criticized in the review at The Circle: Native American News and Arts located in Minneapolis. 

Editor's Note, Feb 17, 2021
Please see additional reviews by Ojibwe women:


I was able to get an e-copy a couple of days ago. First, here's the book description:
Perfect for fans of Rain Reign, this middle-grade novel The Brave is about a boy with an OCD issue and his move to a reservation to live with his biological mother.

Collin can't help himself—he has a unique condition that finds him counting every letter spoken to him. It's a quirk that makes him a prime target for bullies, and a continual frustration to the adults around him, including his father. 

When Collin asked to leave yet another school, his dad decides to send him to live in Minnesota with the mother he's never met. She is Ojibwe, and lives on a reservation. Collin arrives in Duluth with his loyal dog, Seven, and quickly finds his mom and his new home to be warm, welcoming, and accepting of his condition. 

Collin’s quirk is matched by that of his neighbor, Orenda, a girl who lives mostly in her treehouse and believes she is turning into a butterfly. With Orenda’s help, Collin works hard to overcome his challenges. His real test comes when he must step up for his new friend and trust his new family.

In what follows, I share summary in regular font, and I'm using italics for my comments and analysis. 

The book cover shows the title in capital letters. The author's name is also in capital letters but instead of an s, there is a numeral 5: JAME5 BIRD. On the title page, numerals replace letters in the title: TH3 BRAV5. The description refers to "an OCD issue" where Collin counts every letter in every word spoken to him before he replies to the person who spoke to him. 

Debbie's comments: I assume the use of numerals (instead of alphabet letters) on the cover and title page are meant to cue readers to the main character's "issue". Though the description of the book says it is OCD, nowhere in the book do I see "OCD." I see only repeated references to Collin's "issue." How it plays out is this: If I said "Hello, Collin, how are you?" he would say "Twenty. I'm fine." That manner of speaking occurs throughout most of the book. When he gets to Minnesota, it isn't an issue for Native people in his family or in the home of the Native family next door. 

Right before chapter one begins, the word BRAVE appears and is defined as you'd see it in a dictionary. 
/brav/
a. (noun) a Native American warrior
b. (adjective) ready to face and endure danger or pain; showing courage
Debbie's comments: When I saw that, I wondered if the author (through his character) meant to return to that definition in the story, telling readers the definition is problematic. I wondered if he might use the story to tell readers what they'll find if they look in most dictionaries. When I look at a few of them online, I see that definition ("a Native American warrior") but I also see a note that the noun is outdated, old-fashioned, or offensive. In my experience, white writers use "brave" instead of man or boy. I've never heard any Native person call a Native man or boy a "brave." In interviews, I read that Bird's mother is Ojibwe. I figured then, he might take up that definition in the book, pushing back on it but that didn't happen. Instead, by the end of the book, he has overcome that "issue." In the second from final chapter, the title is "I AM THE BRAVE." In the last chapter, Collin writes directly to the reader and signs his letter with "Collin, THE BRAVE." 

I didn't know it when I started reading the book, but as I reflect on it, the uncritical depiction of that definition told me that there would be problems with the Native content in the book. 

The story opens with 13-year old Collin and his father in the school principal's office. Collin has had another run-in where he's blamed for a fight. Yet again, he is being told he has to change schools. This time, his father tells him he'll be going to live with his mother on a reservation in Minnesota. 

Collin has never met or heard from his mother. He doesn't even know her name. His father has told him very little about her. When he was six, his father told him that he has his mothers high cheekbones and "almond shaped eyes." (Collin has his father's pale skin.) A few years later when he is drunk (his father drinks heavily), he tells Collin a bit more. They had met her at a rock concert when she was 25. She was very pretty and very funny. She ended up pregnant but was from "the other side of the tracks" and so marriage wasn't an option. His wealthy parents, however, agreed to raise the baby boy, to carry on the family name. But the speech issue was more than they could manage, and when Collin was six, they sent him back to be with his father.  

Collin and his dog, Seven, fly to Duluth. He wonders what his mother will be like. He doesn't think she'll be like the Indians in westerns who jump out of bushes in warpaint and feathers, wielding a tomahawk, but he thinks Native Americans are tuned in to nature, and that an animal might have spoken to his mother and told her that he would be too much trouble to raise, with that speech issue, and maybe that's why she's not part of his life. He wishes he knew more about his "half people." 

At the airport he's waiting for someone to pick him up, and suddenly, standing in front of him is "the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." Her skin "is like what a fire would look like if it were perfectly still. It's the color of darkened flames, brown, orange, and red mixed together to make one color: fire-skin." She's got long black hair and cheekbones that look as if they were chiseled by an artist. And she has beautiful eyes. He realizes he doesn't even know her name, and doesn't know what to say. She says to him that he will enjoy her family because "we only speak when we have something to say." 

The author seems to be trying to push back on some stereotypes, but others are depicted as if they are facts. Cheekbones, in tune with nature, and speaking very little... those are stereotypes, too. That line where he says "half people" feels odd but is plausible that a 13 year old who had no prior interactions with his Ojibwe family would think that way. 

I've read and reviewed hundreds of books. I've seen many instances of an author describing how a Native character looks. It is usually awkward. I see that in this book, too. "Fire skin" is a new term to me, but it is as awkward as others I've seen. 

Collin's life up to now makes it an unusual book to review. I'm trying to read it from Collin's space of not knowing much about Ojibwe people, because I know that it is not a unique situation. Many Native kids grow up away from their Native family and community, for a wide range of reasons. When they try to connect with that family and community, it can be difficult. I'd like to find books where a Native child who has that experience can feel seen by an author/book. If you know of one, let me know in the comments! Generally, in real life, Native people welcome individuals like Collin by inviting them to their homes, introducing them to other tribal members, helping them learn and understand aspects of their history, culture, spirituality, etc.      

Collin's mother reaches out to touch his face and he pulls back. He's never had that sort of physical affection from his dad. Then he wonders if she knows he meant no harm. And, he wonders if the gesture is "a Native American thing" he doesn't know about and he hopes he hasn't insulted her. They go to the parking lot and he knows it is stereotypical to want them to be heading to a horse rather than a car. They stop in front of a truck. She asks him if he was expecting a horse. He wonders if she can read his mind. She opens the tailgate and Seven hops up. Collin asks if he can ride with Seven. She says ok. 

Debbie's comments: With Collin's worry about having insulted his mother by pulling back when she reaches out to touch his face, it seems the author is trying to convey Collin's lack of knowledge of Ojibwe ways. Remember, Collin has had no contact with his Native family until this moment. I understand the author trying to convey Collin's ignorance of Ojibwe culture, but it feels awkward. In U.S. society (well, truly, around the world), there's so much misinformation about Native people that I think this strategy would have been more successful if the author had used an existing stereotype to convey Collin's lack of knowledge.  

Time-wise, the story takes place sometime after 2016. The year isn't specified anywhere, but later in the story, the neighbor (more on her later) asks Collin to read Adriana Mather's young adult novel, How To Hang A Witch. I looked it up. It came out in 2016. Mather, by the way, is married to the author. When one author's character refers to another author's book, the writing community has mixed reactions, depending on the author's and the books. I try to document when a writer has their characters loving a book like Little House on the Prairie or Gone With the Wind. I wish that didn't happen. Little House is anti-Indigenous and Gone With the Wind is anti-Black. I have not read Mather's book, but I gather it is about belonging/rejection, which is what Collin is experiencing. I like it when a Native author refers to another Native author's book. That's a way that a Native author can shine a light on other Native authors. Mather is not Native. In a video about her book, she says she is a descendent of Cotton Mather. 

They drive for a couple of hours and then turn off just after a sign to the Fond du Lac Reservation and then another that says "HOME OF THE OJIBWE." Collin wonders if any of those letters are silent. He also does a mental screen cap of the sign so he can count its letters and use the right number when someone speaks the word Ojibwe to him. His mother opens the sliding window of the cab and shouts to him "We're Ojibwe." He again thinks she can read his mind, and thinks it is magic. 

"I'm Ojibwe." he thinks. But he also thinks he knows nothing about the Ojibwe people. He read in school that Native Americans were fearless warriors who fought many battles with the US government and he saw Westerns of super-wise wrinkled up old Native men who give white men messages just when they need to hear them. And, he remembers that some are shown as violent savages. He also thinks his mom would be an instant star if Hollywood saw her. 

After another hour they pull up (it is now dark) to a house. An older woman opens the door and turns on the porch light. The woman is his mom's mother (Collin's grandmother). There's some humorous banter among the three. When his grandmother reaches out to touch his face, he lets her do it, again wondering if it is an Ojibwe thing. He and Seven go inside, he is shown his bedroom, and before he goes in, he asks his mother what her name is. She tells him it is Cecilia but that he should call her Mama. He falls asleep. 

Debbie's comments: If I went to Albuquerque to pick up a kid (my own or anyones), I wouldn't let that child ride in the bed of my truck. It isn't safe, and it is against the law. If we were on the reservation going to get wood and driving on small dirt roads to get that wood, then yes, people could ride in the truck bed. Beyond safety and law, it is cold in October especially when the sun goes down.  I wonder what an Ojibwe mother from Fond du Lac would do when picking up a child in Duluth? That aspect of the book is possible but it doesn't seem plausible. 

Some of my criticism might seem nit-picky to readers. Some of what I point to is the sort of thing that Toni Morrison talked about. In her experience, editors in major houses did not attend to the writing of authors of color with the same care they took with white writers. I don't recall if Morrison talked about why that is the case. It may be that an editor feels they don't have the expertise to edit a Native writer, so, they just let things slide. That's not ok!  If they don't have that knowledge, they should hire editors who can do that for them. (I'm not looking to be hired for that, by the way.) 

The next morning, his mother tells him about his brother, Ajidamoo, who died, fighting "for this country." She keeps his ashes in an urn on a shelf. She gives Collin a necklace made of bone, leather, and turquoise that used to belong to Aji (short for Ajidamoo, which means squirrel). He was named Ajidamoo because as a boy he was always climbing trees. Collin asks how, when Aji was a baby, his mother would know he would do that. "Mothers just know" she says. Outside when Collin sees a squirrel he imagines it is Aji. He grabs onto the fence and looks into the back yard of the house next door. The fence breaks, he falls and as he walks back to his house he's hit in the head with a baseball. He looks up and sees the girl next door in her treehouse. Looking at her, he thinks that her skin is "a different shade of flame" than his mother's, and it is like it was dipped in gold before it was set ablaze. Back inside he finds photographs on the wall of Aji, in his mother's bedroom. In one he's wearing "a colorful costume" which Collins assumes is "traditional Ojibwe attire." 

Debbie's Comments: I'm noting Aji and the squirrel because there's more on them later in the book, and there's a lot more coming, about the girl. The sentence about the photo of Aji in his traditional clothing is kind of clunky. In the first half, the author uses "costume" which is plausible, given Collin's life so far, but the second half of the sentence doesn't follow that ignorance. He apparently knows how to describe it, so why is the word "costume" in there at all? That's what I mean about editing from an editor who is paying attention. But it may also be an editor who trusts what a Native writer is doing. 

Collin's mother drives him to school. She's a math teacher. On the way, he learns the girl's name is Orenda. Collin has a rough morning and leaves school two hours early, and hangs around waiting for the bus. When he gets dropped off, he sees his grandmother walking towards him. Rather than go home they go on what she calls an adventure. She teaches him to see things from many perspectives. When they walk home, she goes in the front door and tells him to go around to the back sliding glass door. When he gets to it, it is locked and he realizes she's locked him out again (she did this the day before, too). He thinks it must be a test of some kind and he's confused about the broken fence. The night before when he looked at it, it was fixed but now, it is broken again. He decides to go through the fence, out their gate and back to his house where he thinks the front door will be unlocked. But he sees that the grass in their yard has gone from dead to lush, overnight. As he walks through the grass he notices peaches scattered everywhere, and butterflies on the peaches. He thinks it is too cold for peaches and butterflies. But, there they are, fluttering about everywhere. That gate is locked, too, so he calls out Orenda's name, hoping she can help him get out. 

Debbie's comments: If I can, I may look up the word Orenda. It is the title of a book by Joseph Boyden. Some people really liked that book but some of the Native people whose nation is in it, did not like it at all. 

From the treehouse, Orenda tosses down a rope. Collin climbs up and sees it is a bedroom, decorated with paintings of butterflies and butterfly figurines. Orenda is there, painting. She has a line of red paint on her face, going from under her right eye to her right ear. He asks if it is war paint. She asks if the two of them are at war; he says no; she replies that she's just a messy painter. He also sees a wheelchair in the corner and asks her about it. (Later he learns that she has ALS.) He expresses sympathy when she tells him she needs it for the rest of her life, but she says not to feel sorry, because she's just changing, that this is part of her metamorphosis. She offers to train him to fight his letter counting issue. He is doubtful and she says "You don't think we can defeat it?" She says that she can, that "all we need to do is to teach you how to be brave as a brave." When her dad calls her in to dinner, she lowers her wheelchair and herself down the rope. Collin is there alone, wondering why she likes butterflies and why she "can't walk like a normal person." 

Debbie's comments: This reference to war paint is another example of Collin's ignorance. I appreciate the author's efforts to show Collin's ignorance but as before, it is kind of awkward. 

Orenda telling him that she can help him defeat the OCD issue by teaching him to be "brave as a brave" is a touch back to the definition of the word (brave) at the beginning of the book. 

The ways that the OCD, and Orenda's ALS are treated in the story are unsettling. The use of "normal" means that we are supposed to see both characters as abnormal. 

Back at school the next day, Collin is taunted again by students. He takes off early again but rather than wait around for the bus he starts walking and is surprised his grandmother is there, waiting for him. They do another walk and when they get home, she tells him to go around back again. She winks, telling him it is her way to help him hang out with Orenda. He goes to her yard and to the treehouse. She invites him to help her feed her family, which means cutting peaches in half and tossing them out the window. Collin knows he'll be in trouble for taking off from school. When he goes back to his house his mom asks him to build a fire. He gets firewood he saw in the garage and gets it going. Then he thinks about how this is the first time he's made a fire, and he feels "very Native American about this whole thing" because he's done it on an Ojibwe reservation for his "fire-skinned mother." He wonders if he'll get so good at it that people will refer to him as FireStarter or Boy Who Makes Fire. When his mom sits beside him, he mimics all her gestures (pulling her hair back, putting her hands together over her heart, closing her eyes).  He asks her if this is "something our people do." 

Debbie's comments: I really wish that an editor had flagged these learning/wondering how to be Indian sections for the author so he could take them out. There's too many of them! 

Collin's mom tells him that the fire will tell him what his options are, for having taken off from school. She tells fire to tell him he can be grounded the white way or the Ojibwe way, and that the white way teaches nothing. In the Ojibwe way, she tells fire to tell Collin, they build a fire and sit with it, reflecting on their actions as the "flames are given birth, live their life, serve their purpose, then slowly die." They think about why they did what they did and what they can do differently, the next time. When the flames die, "we are only then no longer punished." He chooses the Ojibwe way. She leaves and as he looks at the fire, he thinks he should have used fewer logs.

Debbie's comments: Is this a common Ojibwe thing? I don't know but whether it is or not, I imagine kids across the US that are into scouting or Native people using that method. Reflection rather than being grounded in your room is definitely a better option, but as done here it feels kind of Indian wisdom-y. And I suppose we're supposed to think that "should have used fewer logs" is clever, but I find it dismissive of care being extended to him. 

Collin makes it through his third day of school ok. When he gets home, his own backyard has changed from dead grass to being green and full of life. He heads through the fence to hang out with Orenda, stepping through "the minefield of peaches." Inside the tree house, Orenda has him listen to a recording. In it, a young man speaks to Orenda, telling her a story about a baby boy being swept away from his tribe, in a flood. The people looked for him but figured he must have died. But, a wolf mother had found him and the wolves decide she should determine what to do with him. She says she'll raise him. Others laugh at her, saying he'll be too slow, or too weak. That's all Collin hears of the story. Orenda says he can listen to more of it later, when he is "ready" for it. 

She says it is time for her to teach him to be strong and fast, in the same way she taught Aji. Collin is surprised. he didn't know they had known each other. They head to Collin's house, and once inside, he watches as Orenda pauses and speaks to Aji's urn. He thinks she must be speaking Ojibwe. She turns to him and says that Aji supports her decision to train him. She goes into the garage where the punching bag is (his mother had shown him Aji's things before this). She tells him to punch the bag for three minutes straight. It is hard to keep going, but he does. After, he replies to one of Orenda's comments, without counting the letters in her words.  He didn't notice that happened, but she points it out to him. After two more 3-minute rounds, she gives him a book. It is the young adult novel (How to Hang a Witch, written by the author's wife) I noted earlier in this post. She tells Collin it is one of Aji's favorite books and that it is his voice telling the wolf story in the recording he listened to earlier. She leaves and he's tired but he is also excited to read the book. He thinks "if I don't give up, I'll soon be a brave. And braves fight. I'll be able to defeat my counting condition."

There again is the reference to being a brave. 

Another day at school, Collin leaves early and goes to Orenda's treehouse. She lets him listen to more of the wolf story. They plan to head back to the garage to do more training, but when Collin asks to meet her mother, Orenda says "Let's go see my mama." In a golf cart that is in Orenda's garage, they drive along the shoulder of the highway and turn at an exit marked ANISHINAABE and drive out of the forest to a green clearing on a bluff. In the center of all this green is a garden of flowers and a small river running through it. She tells Collin her family is coming to meet him. They are butterflies that fly to them from the garden. He asks if this is real; she says yes. One lands on her fingertip and then flutters to him. He recognizes it as the same one that had been at his window in California the night before we caught that plane to Duluth. Collin and Orenda kiss and then head back home. He stays up late to finish How To Hang a Witch. 

Collin is back in school. After math class he dashes to the bathroom to pee. While at the urinal, boys who have been taunting him come in. He tries to ignore them. They start laughing and he realizes why. One of them is peeing on him. He's angry but remembers that throwing a punch will get him in trouble again so he chooses to ignore what happened. He washes his hands, leaves the bathroom and gets on the bus to go home. Walking up to his house he sees Orenda's dad, Foxy, sitting cross-legged in the center of his yard, staring up at the sun, eyes closed. The urine on his jeans is now frozen. Inside, he hand washes his jeans and goes to Orenda's tree house. They hang out, argue, she cries, and goes inside her house. Collin goes home. 

Debbie's comments: That pee scene. I don't know what to make of it. I guess it is the ultimate assault, depicted here to see if Collin can control his reactions, but it is gratuitous, grotesque, and not necessary. 

The next day is a Saturday. Collin's mom is happy because her boyfriend is being deployed after a year and will be home, soon. Collin goes to visit Orenda, who is on her way to "get her wings." She asks Collin to feed her family. He climbs into the treehouse, eats two peaches, slices the rest of them, and tosses them out the window. He lies on her bed and finds that she's left the audio recording for him to listen to. When it is over he is crying. He feels that Aji knew about Collin's struggles to fit in, to feel cared for.  He sees a photo album on her shelf and looks through it, at photos of her and Aji, and in a prom photo, Aji with a guy. Collin wonders who that is and if Aji and Orenda were in love with each other. Back in his house, his mother won't answer his questions about Orenda and Aji. He goes into the garage and punches the bag, for hours. 

I think that a week or a few days more than a week have passed since Collin flew to Duluth. A lot has happened in that week. That is plausible. What is unbelievable, though, is that he can punch that bag for hours, having only done a couple of days of 3 sets of 3-minute rounds. I suppose I could look up boxing training to see how it progresses. 

Orenda is gone overnight. Collin spends 3 hours the next day punching the bag, he runs two miles, and then he reads the sequel to How to Hang a Witch. On Sunday, mid-day, his mom comes into his room and tells him to get up because they're going to meet his ancestors. She's wearing a red flowing dress with black birds on it. They leave the reservation, go through a forest, deep into darkness and then they pull off the road to a hidden dirt lot. He sees a campfire, several cars, some horses. Before getting out of the truck, his mom pulls what looks like a thin piece of charcoal out of a case, rubs her fingertip on it, and then presses her finger on his forehead, creating a line from his forehead and down below his cheekbones. He tells her he feels like he is going into battle. She says he's been in a battle all his life, and that this will help him win. He feels a presence in the truck and asks what it is. She says "That's our blood waking up." They walk to the fire where people are dancing and singing. They look like giant birds, feathers bouncing as they dance. He sees Orenda in her wheelchair, her eyes fixed on the "fire-dancers."

From the start I've felt uncomfortable with the talk of battle and winning the battle. Though he doesn't call this substance war paint, it has that meaning, underneath the other words being spoken. I know that Native peoples gather in ways that might be similar to what the author is describing, and I know that some prefer that these gatherings be kept private. I don't know where this falls on the continuum of public or private sharing of Native ways of being. 

Of all the people there, Collin has the lightest skin. Someone calls out "Who invited the white boy?" Three boys approach him. He thinks he's about to get beat up but one of the boys looks closely at his face and says "Wait... You knew Aji?" Collin starts to tell him who he is, and another person approaches and tells them Collin is Aji's brother. Collin recognizes that person as the one from the prom photo. The three boys are apologetic. Orenda comes over and Collin decides to ask her if she and Aji were in love. She says no, he was like her big brother and that Aji was gay. 

I have not been keeping note of chapters. At this point, we're at chapter 23, titled "Spirit Questing." 

Collin's mom takes him to a teepee. He's never seen one in real life. She leads him in. It is pitch black until a torch is lit and carried to the center of the teepee. An old man sits cross legged. Collin sits, too, and his mom leaves. He asks the old man what he should do. The man claps his hands together, once, and four people enter. They're wearing long robes, each one is a different color (red, black, yellow, green). With tongs, each one is carrying a stone that is the same color as their robe. The stones are placed in the fire, where they sizzle and send clouds of smoke into the teepee. Collin imagines this is what a sauna feels like. The four leave, it gets hotter. The man tells Collin that there is a battle within him. Collin starts to sweat. The man tells him to become the heat and to close his eyes, and look deeper inward. He does and sees himself, then joins with that self and hears a whimper. It is a large angry wolf, growling and drooling. In its fur, numbers and letters shimmer. A hind leg is tied with a thick rope. He realizes he has a knife in his hand. He wonders if the wolf is the battle in him. As the wolf approaches him he wonders if he should run or fight. He lifts the knife but the wolf jumps up, knocks Collin down and bites him, tearing his flesh, breaking his bones. He screams and then, opens his eyes and is back in the teepee. He asks the old man what that was all about, and the old man says "You failed" and point to the teepee flap. He says he tried to face his fear by trying to kill the wolf. The old man says "Courage takes many forms. Now go." Collin leaves. His grandmother is waiting and says "next time" and tells him it is a "spirit test" or a "spirit quest" and that "the test is a quest."

As they drive home, Collin's mother tells him he didn't run and that he should learn from his failures. He thinks that she's giving him some "deep wisdom" and that while he's used to losing fights, he's never "fought an imaginary wolf before in some spirit test-quest battle that all took place inside my head while my body was cooking in a teepee." He thinks he's not a brave yet, but is getting close to something big. He asks where Orenda is, and his mom said she had a test, too, and that Foxy (her dad) took her home to celebrate. Collin is excited, thinking she is cured and that they'll be able to run, dance. 

Debbie's comments: that scene in the teepee raises many questions. The characters are calling it a test, a spirit test, and a spirit quest. Do the Fond du Lac Ojibwe's do this? If they do, do they share it publicly as the author has done in this book? In a Facebook discussion of the book, the author said his family is enrolled with the Grand Portage Band. I wonder if the Fond du Lac folks are ok with someone from a different band including this "test" in his book. It is of significant concern to me (I'm not Ojibwe). Historically, white people misrepresented, misunderstood, and mischaracterized our ceremonial ways, and that caused a lot of harm to tribal peoples as outside entities sought to destroy ceremonial spaces, items used in ceremony, and tried to stop Native worship, altogether. Not surprisingly, other outside entities sought to replicate what they read in books, creating or contributing to New Ageism. 

In the final paragraphs in chapter 23, Collin asks his mom why her relationship with his dad didn't work out. She tells him that when they met, she was in a dark place. Aji's father had been killed in a car accident, that she fell into a depression, and that she and Aji had to move in with her mother on the reservation. A friend took her to a concert, where she met his father and then, she became pregnant. Though it would be tough to raise another child, she was ready to do it. But, his father's parents said they'd give Collin the life that she couldn't. She wanted him to have all the opportunities she never had, so she agreed. 

Debbie's comments: It doesn't say, but I guess the friend flew her from Duluth to California for that concert (or maybe Collin's dad had flown from California to Minnesota--but that seems unlikely). We also don't know how long Collin's parents were together before she got pregnant. If I recall correctly, his father's parents didn't want a baby whose mother was from "the wrong side of the tracks." But then, the baby turned out to be a boy, so they changed their mind. Where was Collin's mom during the pregnancy? Back in Minnesota? Was she then flown to California for Collin's birth? To me, this feels like a big hole in the story that an editor could have helped with. 

The subject itself, giving up a child, is emotionally painful. As I read the book, it has felt like Collin's mother had a very supportive community and positive, caring relationships with her mother and others. But, was that warmth not there when she was younger? What are the opportunities she wanted to have that she felt she couldn't give to Collin? That is the reason she decided to leave him with his father in California. If you've read the book, I'd like to know your thoughts on that. 

Right before chapter twenty-five starts, Collin is on his way into the house and sees Foxy washing white paint off his body. He thinks about his grandmother's teachings about seeing things from a different perspective and imagines how she'd explain what Foxy is doing. He then thinks that he's starting to see things differently, that the books he's reading and Orenda's training are helping his Native American side to wake up. Chapter twenty-five starts with Collin in the house telling his grandmother he's going to visit Orenda.  She tells him that his mother went to pick up her boyfriend, and then she says "pupa" and he wonders why. When he gets to the tree house, he sees it has been painted white and kids are coming down a newly installed ramp, carrying paintings that had been on the walls. Collin is confused about the ramp. He thought she had passed her test and would be better now. Inside, her bed is now a canopy bed draped in white. She tells him that is in stage three of her transformation and her treehouse is now a cocoon. 

In chapter 26, Collin goes home after spending time with Orenda. He walks in and sees "a tall, dark, and handsome black man" who is fit (bulging muscles) with his mom. He is her boyfriend, Ronnie. He gives Collin a silver chained necklace with two dog tags on it: his own and one that has Aji's name on it. He tells Collin that he won't try to replace his father, but that he wants Collin to think of him as his father, too.  

From Ronnie, Collin learns that Orenda has ALS and that her mother had it, too. He tells Collin that the chances of two people in one family getting it are one in a billion. A week passes with Collin not seeing Orenda. She and Foxy are in Canada at a hospital. When they get back, Collin visits her in the tree house. She is much weaker and has episodes of extreme pain as if an invisible man is stabbing her. Foxy moves her from the treehouse to her bedroom in the house. 

Debbie's comments: having a character who is Black is a plus. The physical description is a bit of a cliche (tall, dark, and handsome) but again--this is a 13 year old boy's point of view. As I write that, I imagine some of you thinking I'm being generous with the author, and that there were other ways he could have done some of this that would work better. 

In a dream, Collin dreams he is a wolf. A squirrel as big as he is approaches him. It is Aji, who tells Collin that they have to save Orenda from the invisible man, who has taken her. They go to a cabin where they find her tied to a bed. Collin can see the invisible man's sword. He is stabbed and Aji attacks him. As Aji fights him, he becomes more visible. He looks like a conquistador. He kills Aji; Collin attacks, beheading him. He watches the head roll away. Orenda is no longer on the bed; she is now hovering over him, as a butterfly. She kisses him; he wakes from the dream. 

Collin thinks about the dream, realizes he's slept all day, and rushes to Orenda's house. Lot of people are there, including the "old Native American man who gave me the test in the teepee. Yeah, the test I failed." He's pacing like a wild tiger, chanting words Collin things are Ojibwe. He beats a small drum. Collin sits with Orenda. He asks the people there why nobody came to get him. The old man says he had to finish his dream. He asks what is going on and suddenly nobody is there except he and Orenda. Orenda closes her eyes, and as she tells Collin she loves him, butterfly wings spread out on her back, she lifts from the bed, tells Collin he knows where to find her, and then, she flies out the open window. 

Collin wakes in his bedroom and realizes that he had not been in Orenda's room. That was also part of his dream. His mom tells him he has to go see Orenda right away. He rushes over and it is like it was in his dream. The old Native American man is there with his drum. Collin says aloud that he just dreamt all this and the old man says that they know he did, and that truth comes to them in dreams. Orenda dies, and the old man stops drumming and tells Collin to come see him again. Collin goes home.

Debbie's comments: I wish Collin's mother had told him the name of the "old Native American man" when Collin first went into that teepee. It is jarring to me to read "old Native American man" over and over. 

The next day when Collin wakes, he asks his mom to take him to the place where he thinks Orenda will be. The chapter title is "Memengwa." His mom seems to know where to go. It is that green clearing where he went with Orenda in the golf cart. When they get there, he goes to the edge of the bluff and shouts Orenda's name. He thinks that if he let himself fall forward over the edge of the bluff, he would not have to cry over her again, but, he thinks he is not weak anymore. Orenda had taught him how to be brave. He shouts her name again and then there's a shift in the air and butterflies rise from the flower garden and flutter to him. Then, Orenda flies to him. Her dad, Foxy, is there, too. He tells Collin the name of the place they're at is Memengwa. He's got a bag of peaches with him. He tells Collin he's going to meet his family. As Collin leaves with his mom and Ronnie he turns and sees two butterflies land on Foxy's outstretched arms. He drops to his knees and howls to the sky. Collin thinks he would make a great wolf. 

Debbie's comments: In reviews on Goodreads I see people calling the dreams, the transformation, the butterflies... all of this, to them, is magical realism. I do not use the word "magic" or variants of it to refer to what may be spiritual or culturally based content of a specific tribal nation (in this case, Ojibwe). It may help to think of a specific religion, like Catholicism. Is the word "magic" used to describe things that happen within its teachings? Do miracles get cast as magical happenings? I think the answer is no. People generally respect Catholics and Catholicism. I know--there's exceptions--but I hope my example helps you understand why I think it is important not to use words like "magic" for any peoples' religious ways. 

Back at home again, Collin is looking for his grandmother. His mom tells him she went home. Collin is confused because he thought their house was hers, too. His mom tells Collin "My mother died many years ago." Collin is even more confused but then realizes that he believes Orenda changed into a butterfly, and there's no reason not to think his grandmother was a spirit the whole time he's been living there. His mom reminds him that he's got to do his test that night. 

This time, there's not a fire with dancers or anyone else. Collin goes into the teepee. The same thing happens again. Collin sees the wolf and the knife in his hand. The wolf growls and steps to him and realizes he's not afraid of the wolf. He's afraid of the numbers that shimmer in its fur. He remembers his dream, where he was the wolf. He shouts "I am the wolf" suddenly, the fear is gone. He steps to the wolf, says to himself "As brave as a brave" and then cuts the rope from its hind leg. The wolf runs off into the forest, free, and Collin thinks he, too, is free.

He feels like he's floating in space and then feels a sharp slap on his face. He opens his eyes. The old Native American man is standing over him. Collin asks if he had slapped him. The man says yes, and to stop thinking of him as an old Native American man. His name, he says, is Henry. The two leave the teepee and Henry tells Collins mom and Ronnie "He passed." A brief conversation takes place and Collin realizes he's not counting letters. He can't wait to talk to people. 

Debbie's comments: I am unsettled by this "test," passing/failing it, and Collin having won the battle and now, is no longer having the counting issue. 

In the final chapter Collin finds a letter from Orenda. She tells him that she has made her transformation and that he's made his from dork to brave. She wants him to keep reading and to talk. She says he has realized he still counts but that he does not need to blurt out the number unless he wants to do so. In the last pages, Collin writes a letter to the reader (he did this in chapter three, too). It says that he was gonna write a book and tell the world about Orenda. He wants people to know that magic exists in everyone. He ends the letter, signing off as "Collin, (THE BRAVE)." 

Debbie's comments: As I noted at the very top of this close read of The Brave, I felt the uncritical use of "brave" was a problem. Rather than push back on the idea that a Native person with courage is "a brave," the author has affirmed the problematic use of the word. 

****

As I read the book a second time to do this analysis, I saw that the book was being discussed (primarily by Ojibwe women) on Facebook. Someone tagged Ojibwe writer and scholar, David Treuer, and he participated in the discussion, briefly. I shared some of my concerns because mine align with Treuer's. As noted above, his review appeared in the New York Times. 

There is a Native newspaper in Minneapolis, called "The Circle: Native American News and Arts." I read that review, too. It is titled "The Brave" is compelling, but could do without the stereotypes.  Because Bird's book got a couple of starred reviews from mainstream review journals (most reviewers and staff at the journals are white) and is on a couple of "Best Of 2020 book lists, I think people agree that it is compelling, but they did not see the stereotypes the Circle's reviewer, David Treuer, and I, saw. 

And I was astonished to see that on his social media accounts, James Bird (the author) is sharing a collage that consists of a screen capture of The Circle's masthead, the first four words of the review title ("The Brave is compelling), a photo of the book, and a photo of himself. That is a misrepresentation of the review. 

Conversations are on-going. There will be a Zoom book club gathering to discuss the book. I asked if I could join. The answer was yes. James Bird asked if he could join, too. He too received a yes. 

There's a lot more research/analysis that can and should be done, particularly on depictions of Collin's counting issue (though "OCD" is not mentioned in the book, that is how the author describes it elsewhere) and ALS. I am more aware than I was, prior to 2020, that some of what I write in my reviews is anti-Black, or ableist. I'm reading, studying, thinking, and working hard to be more aware. Please do not hesitate to tell me when you see it! 

As is clear, I do not recommend James Bird's middle grade novel, The Brave, and I hope that my analysis is helpful to anyone who is trying to understand what I see when I do my work. If there is confusing summary/analysis above, let me know and I'll revise. Clarity is so important. 



Thursday, October 08, 2020

Highly Recommended: APPLE (SKIN TO THE CORE) by Eric Gansworth

Monday, October 12 is Indigenous Peoples' Day. There will be many virtual events taking place. Top of my list is the one from Arizona State University. Eric Gansworth will open their day of events. When you click on through to register for his lecture (at noon, Central Time) you will see that Gansworth was selected to deliver the 2020 lecture in the prestigious Simon Ortiz Red Ink Indigenous Speaker Series. People in Native studies or who study the writing and scholarship of Native people will recognize names of people who have given that lecture. In the field, being selected to give that lecture has tremendous significance. Videos for most of the talks are available at the site. If you are new to your work in learning about Native writing, make time to watch and study all of them! 

Gansworth will be talking about his new book, Apple (Skin to the Core). Across the hundreds of  Native Nations, our life experiences differ. Census information has shown that about half of us grow up in suburban or urban areas. I'm glad to see books set in those spaces. 

Some of us grew up on our homelands or on reservations. Native-authored books for children and young adults that reflect a reservation sense-of-place with the integrity that Gansworth brings to his writing, are rare. On Indigenous Peoples Day, I'll be giving a talk, too. My audience will be Pueblo peoples. I expect a large segment of the audience to be people who are living on their Pueblo homelands. And so, I'm emphasizing books like Apple (Skin to the Core) that will speak directly to a reservation-based experience. Of course, everyone should read it and Gansworth's other two books, If I Ever Get Out of Here and Give Me Some Truth. 

As I read through his memoir, I linger over some of what I read... I want to tell you about this poem, or what I see on that page, but that's not the thrust of this post. A review is forthcoming. Today, I celebrate the gifts that Eric Gansworth gives to us, in every word he writes, in each poem, story, and book. 





Bio from Gansworth's website:
Eric Gansworth (Sˑha-weñ na-saeˀ), a writer and visual artist, is an enrolled member of the Onondaga Nation.  He was raised at the Tuscarora Nation, near Niagara Falls, New York.  Currently, he is a Professor of English and Lowery Writer-in-Residence at Canisius College in Buffalo, New York.

And a video about the book and the word "apple":




Thursday, August 13, 2020

Historical Fiction by Native Writers

On August 3, 2020, Debbie received an email from a teacher looking for historical fiction. She wrote that teachers in her school use Island of the Blue Dolphins and she doesn't want to use it (or others like it) because she's learning about flaws in popular and classic and award-winning books. What, she wonders, would we recommend? 

She's been looking at AICL and wonders if we have a list of historical fiction by Native writers (affiliations listed for each writer are from bios in their book or on their professional website; if we've listed yours incorrectly, please let us know and we will change it). 

This post today is meant to work towards providing teachers with a list of historical fiction that we recommend. We'll add to it over time. We are organizing it in a way that we hope is helpful: chronologically. As you'll see when you read on, we're listing books by decade but also have a final category for books that are volumes that span a wide range of years. 

But what would our end-year be?! 

We enjoyed talking about it because the definitions vary. A book set in the 1970s doesn't feel like historical fiction to Debbie (those were her teen years). But how does that book feel to a teen reader, today? Read Write Think (a project from the National Council of Teachers of English, and the International Reading Association) defines historical fiction as 30 years in the past. In the third edition of Children's Literature in Action: A Librarian's Guide, Sylvia M. Vardell writes that historical fiction "is set at least one generation in the past." But, she also says, "that bar is movable as time keeps moving on" (page 191). With that in mind, we're including books set in the 1970s and we welcome your thoughts! And book suggestions, too.  



1830s

How I Became A Ghost: A Choctaw Trail of Tears Story by Tim Tingle (Oklahoma Choctaw). Published in 2013 by Roadrunner Press. 

Mary and the Trail of Tears: A Cherokee Removal Survival Story by Andrea L. Rogers (Citizen of the Cherokee Nation). Published in 2020 by Capstone Press.

1840s

The Birchbark House (and subsequent books in the series) by Louise Erdrich (Turtle Mountain Ojibwe). Published in 1999 by Hyperion Books for Children.

1860s

Danny Blackgoat, Navajo Prisoner by Tim Tingle (Choctaw). Published in 2013 by 7th Generation. 

 

1920s

I Am Not a Number by Jenny Kay Dupuis (Anishinaabe, Nipissing First Nation) and Kathy Kacer. Published in 2016 by Second Story Press.


1940s

At the Mountain's Base by Traci Sorell (enrolled citizen of the Cherokee Nation). Illustrations by Weshoyot Alvitre (Tongva, Cahuilla, Chumash, Spanish & Scottish). Published in 2019 by Kokila Press.


1950s

Indian No More by Charlene Willing McManis (Umpqua, enrolled in Confederated Tribes of Grand Ronde) with Traci Sorell (enrolled citizen of the Cherokee Nation). Published in 2019 by Lee & Low Books/Tu Books. 

My Name Is Seepeetza by Shirley Sterling (Salish). Published in 1997 by Douglas McIntyre. 


1960s

House of Purple Cedar by Tim Tingle (Choctaw). Published in 2014 by Cinco Puntos Press.


1970s

If I Ever Get Out of Here by Eric Gansworth, Sˑha-weñ na-saeˀ, (enrolled member of the Onondaga Nation, Eel Clan). Published in 2013 by Arthur A. Levine.


Books that Span a Wide Range of Years

Saltypie by Tim Tingle (Choctaw). Published in 2010 by Cinco Puntos Press.

Tales of the Mighty Code Talkers by Weshoyot Alvitre (Tongva, Cahuilla, Chumash, Spanish & Scottish), Kristina Bad Hand (Sicangu Lakota & Cherokee), Roy Boney (Cherokee), Johnnie Diacon (enrolled member Mvskoke Nation), Lee Francis IV (Laguna Pueblo), Geary Hobson (Cherokee-Quapaw/Chickasaw), Jonathan Nelson (Diné), Renee Nejo (Mesa Grand Band of Mission Indians), Michael Sheyahshe (Caddo), Arigon Starr (Kickapoo), Theo Tso (Las Vegas Paiute).  Published in 2016 by Native Realities.

This Place: 150 Years Retold by Kateri Akiwenzi-Damm (Chippewas of Nawash First Nation at Neyaashiinigmiing), Sonny Assu (not specified), Tara Audibert (Maliseet), Kyle Charles (member of Whitefish Lake First Nation), GMB Chomichuk (not specified), Natasha Donovan (member of the Métis Nation of British Columbia), Scott A. Ford (not specified), Alicia Elliott (Tuscarora, Six Nations of the Grand River), Scott B. Henderson (not specified), Ryan Howe (not specified), Andrew Lodwick (not specified),  Brandon Mitchell (Mi'kmaq), Rachel Qitsualik-Tinsley (Inuit-Cree), Sean Qitualik-Tinsley (not specified), David A. Robertson (member of Norway House Cree Nation), Niigaawewidam James Sinclair (Anishinaabe, St. Peter's/Little Peguis), Jen Storm (Ojibway, Couchiching First Nation), Richard Van Camp (member of Tlicho Nation), Katherena Vermette (Métis), Chelsea Vowel (Métis), Donovan Yaciuk (not specified). Published in 2019 by Highwater Press. 


Friday, March 06, 2020

Not Recommended: JUST LUCKY by Melanie Florence

Note from Debbie: there is sexual abuse and self-harm in the book and in my review that you may have difficulty reading.  


Just Lucky
Written by Melanie Florence
Published in 2019
Publisher: Second Story Press
Reviewer: Debbie Reese
Review Status: Not Recommended


****

Just Lucky by Melanie Florence came out in 2019 from Second Story Press. I read the book a few days ago, tweeting thoughts/summary as I read it (scroll down; I pasted the entire thread, for your reference).

I do not recommend Just Lucky. I find it deeply troubling and wonder why Second Story accepted and published it. The entire story feels shallow as it skitters from one horrific episode to the next before an all-too-quick happy ending, and one harmful depiction after another.

There is absolutely nothing in the book to help readers understand anti-Native attitudes that pervade Canadian and American society. Instead, we are invited to gasp at and condemn, for example, Lucky's mother who is an addict.

Today (Friday, March 6) I read The Guardian article on Oprah Winfrey's response to writers who objected to her decision to feature American Dirt in her book club. The article includes a powerful passage from a letter to Winfrey, written by 142 writers, that applies to Just Lucky. The writers said that the novel's treatment of migration, and Mexican life and culture, is
...exploitative, oversimplified, and ill-informed, too often erring on the side of trauma fetishisation and sensationalism...
That is precisely what Just Lucky does. It is exploitative and oversimplified. And in some places, it is literally sadistic. I'm thinking in particular of the scene where a foster father climbs into bed with 15-year-old Lucky and when she jumps out of the bed, follows her, rubbing himself as he approaches her.

Given the realities of Native children in foster care, Just Lucky strikes me as cruel. Who did Florence imagine as her audience for this book?

Just Lucky is laced with stereotypes that affirm and ensure the further mistreatment of Native children, families, communities, and nations. Many Native children who read this book will feel assaulted over and over by the story Florence created. Again: who is this book for? And what will it do to shape how people think about Native children?

At the top of this review, you see a red X on the book cover. I use those for books that I find especially horrific. To read more on that red X, see The Red X on Book Covers.

Saying again, I do not recommend 
Melanie Florence's Just Lucky. 

I invite you to share your thoughts (you can write to me directly or submit a comment).

****


Twitter thread I created as I read Just Lucky the week of March 2, 2020.

Melanie Florence's JUST LUCKY. Florence's JUST LUCKY is from Second Story Press, and came out in 2019. Florence has many books out. I've read a few of them and found them terribly lacking. Details here: (…ansinchildrensliterature.blogspot.com/search?q=melan…)

But, her books keep getting published. Why? I think it is because they appeal to a white expectation of who Native people are. Many of those expectations are shaped by derogatory stereotypes. Florence seems to trade on that, which is very harmful. 

DANG.

That derogatory depiction is in the second paragraph of the first page of JUST LUCKY.

Lucky is the name of the main character. She lives with her grandparents because her mom left her (as a baby) in the casino by a slot machine when she went outside to smoke crack. 

When the story opens, Lucky has been living with her grandparents for 15 years. She tells us her grandparents were "long done with their own parenting" and didn't give a second thought to "care and feeding of another kid."

To me that sounds like a White voice. 

Lucky has only seen her mother a couple of times in those 15 years. Certainly, a girl would have strong emotions about all of this but "I'm not even sure I could pick her out of a police lineup at this point" and thinking she WILL do that someday... it feels off, too. 

It is extreme... It is .... melodramatic. Yeah! That's it. In tone, this first chapter echoes what I saw in Florence's other books. 

Florence's writings about Native people are not without consequence. Rather than push back on derogatory images, she's feeding them. If you're reading tweets or news articles about #wetsuwetan, you know Canadians are using derogatory language about Native peoples. 

Still in chapter one, Lucky is trying to write an essay that is supposed to be autobiographical. She thinks about how her family isn't "normal."

Where does Lucky's family live? As I read on, will I learn that they're part of a Native community? Right now it seems, not. Now in chapter 3. Lucky's grandfather brought some books home for her from a used bookstore. One of them is GONE WITH THE WIND.

Anytime I see someone referencing GONE WITH THE WIND in a kid or YA book, I wait to see if they push back on its racism. Will Florence do that? 

Why drop that title into a story, as if it is just fine? FFS. Imagine a Black child reading this book. What does that child do when they come to this page and see this loving grandfather giving his granddaughter GONE WITH THE WIND?! 

WHY is that title in there? What purpose does it serve? Was/is Florence oblivious to its harm? And her editors at @_secondstory, too? Did they not notice that? 

Now in chapter 20 (chapters are very short). In previous chapters, we learn that her best friend Ryan was punched in the face by his father when he came out, that her grandmother's forgetfulness is serious, then, her grandfather dies.

When her grandmother forgets she's put something on the stove, there's a fire. She's ok but children's services gets involved and asks Lucky to call her mother because Lucky can't make decisions (she's a minor) about her grandmother's needs. 

Lucky calls her mom, Christina. 15 years have passed. I am wondering about the back story for Christina and her parents. What did they do? Kick her out of their lives? No mention of her parents (Lucky's grandparents) wondering how she is...

When Christina arrives at the hospital, Lucky notices her physical appearance (stiletto heels; short skirt; bleached hair; lots of make-up; ragged fingernails). She wants money to take care of her mom and daughter. Children's Aid person and doc are shocked at her ask. 

This scene... again, full of melodrama. 

Lucky gets placed in a foster home with a white Christian family that homeschools their son (he's an only child). The father leers at Lucky's breasts. Lucky and the son (Bobby) share an interest in comic bks. The mother warns Lucky not to lead Bobby into sin. 

Ch 28 is titled "An Unwelcome Visitor." Lucky is dreaming and thinks a spider is in her hair but it is Robert (the father) with his fingers entwined in her hair. She moves away from him; he gets into bed with her.

That scene feels gratuitous. Lucky leaps out of the bed; Robert follows her, "rubbing himself through the thin material."

Of course, things like that happen but for a Native person who has gone thru or knows someone who has gone through something like this, it seems callous. After he leaves she can't sleep. She goes to the bathroom and using scissors, cuts her hair off. Then she goes to the kitchen and gets a sharp knife to keep under her pillow. Then she falls asleep. 

Next day, she shaves her head with an electric razor she borrows from Bobby.

Remember: Bobby is 15, too. Why does he have an electric razor?

That night, Robert is back in Lucky's room, drunk. She raises the knife under her pillow, to his Adam's apple. 

She tells Robert that her grandfather taught her how to use a knife and that she can gut a trout in 60 seconds, and "I doubt you'd take much longer." He leaves.

I don't know what to make of that scene. This feels, over and over, like an outline. No depth. Just high points. 

The next morning, the mother confronts Lucky, telling her that Robert told her that Lucky had threatened him with a knife and demanded money, that she's "evil" and that she "won't have evil in my house." Lucky replies that evil was in the house before she arrived. 

I am realizing at this point that in addition to the gratuitous melodramatic scenes all thru the bk, the way that Lucky speaks doesn't ring true. She sounds tough/hard but her 15 yrs w/ her grandparents weren't harsh ones. So, her words don't fit w/ the loving grandparents. 

Another realization is that I'm nearly halfway thru the book, and it doesn't FEEL like a Native character. Any markers or values that would be from a Native home/community... they're not evident in character/story development, words, action, etc. 

As such, it feels like a lot of books by Native writers who tack on a Native identity for a character but leave it at that. 

Lucky has to leave that foster home (the Wilson's). Bobby tells her he knows his mother is covering for his father but he can't speak up because nobody will believe him.

Cynthia (social worker) goes to get Lucky, rips into her, insisting that the Wilson's are a good family. Error in tweet 27!

I meant to say that non-Native writers tack on the name of a tribal nation for a characters identity, but then never do anything else with it. That's decoration, superficial, wrong. 

As the social worker drives, she starts to listen to Lucky and says she'll investigate, and that Lucky's grandmother is now in a facility for people with dementia and Alzheimer's. 

Lucky is furious that she wasn't told about the move. Social worker hands her a paper w/ name of the facility: "Sunset Seniors." Lucky replies w/ some snarky jokes about the name of the facility. 

That snark (again) is jarring and is another instance in which the ways that Lucky speaks doesn't fit with that happy go lucky, warm childhood she's had with her grandparents up till now. 

Lucky is placed in a new foster home; husband/wife are nice and have 2 boys near Lucky's age that they are also fostering. Interactions much warmer than the first home Lucky was in (fundamentalist Christian/pedophile). At her new school, she meets a bunch of kids at lunch. 

The two foster boys, Charlie & Jake, show her around. Kids are friendly but most girls, including a redhead named Elyse, are not. Elyse seems jealous that Jake sat with Lucky instead of her. When Jake and Lucky get up for next class, Lucky is sure Elyse calls her a whore. 

She thinks about responding but remembers her grandfather saying "Don't ever let anyone tell you you're not enough, Lucky. You come from a long line of strong Indigenous people. Do them proud."

That seems an odd thought for her to have, then. 

Even if Elyse said "Indian whore" it wouldn't make sense, because Lucky's thought is abt not being "enough." It would only make sense if Elyse had said "half-breed whore."

What I am getting at is that I don't know enough about Lucky to understand why she would feel "not enough." The author (Florence) hasn't given us enough for Lucky's thought/her grandfather's words, to make sense at this particular moment in the story. 

The theater dept is doing a play. Jake plans to try out; so does Elyse; Jake wants Lucky to try out, too. She doesn't want to but he pressures her into reading with him when he tries out. Everybody--except Elyse and her friends--are impressed by her reading. 

When she's at her locker, she's surrounded by Elyse & her group. Elyse tells Lucky to leave Jake alone and not to walk around in her underwear (she knows Lucky lives in the same foster home as Jake). Lucky tries to leave but Elyse stops her, calling her a "nasty little slut."

In reply to Lucky's 'what did you say' Elyse says "Are you going to go all 'war party' on us?" and starts to whoop and dance around Lucky. Elyse's friends do it, too.

Lucky punches Elyse in the face and then stomach, knocking her down. Lucky is the one in trouble. 

As Lucky is led away by a teacher, Elyse says "What do you expect from someone like her? She's trash." One of the others says "Indian trash."

Several times up to this pt, Lucky has characterized these girls as hostile. As noted in an earlier tweet in this thread, it doesn't feel like there's enough story IN the story so far for this "hostile" characterization or this stereotypical anti-Native scene to make sense. 

Sarah (the new foster mom) is called to school because the initial plan is to expel Lucky, but Sarah listens to Lucky's account, believes her, and persuades principal to give her another chance. 

In ch 43 Lucky talks abt how her grandparents would be ashamed that she got into this fight, but, that she "never had much patience for racist pieces of garbage like Elyse."

As noted before, I'm having a hard time reconciling the things Lucky says/does with the happy home she had with her grandparents for 15 yrs. Overnight (literally), she's got an intense attitude and ready to fight in an instant, several times. 

Jake is in the play; Charlie and Lucky make sets for it. One day as Charlie and Lucky are ready to leave, Elyse appears and implies they are involved. Her tone reminds Lucky of the Wicked Witch; Lucky thinks of her as the witch and her friends as flying monkeys. 

That reference--to the Wizard of Oz--strikes me as odd.

Maybe Florence (the author) is not aware that L. Frank Baum wrote editorials calling for the extermination of Native people. It reminds me of that earlier chapter when Lucky's grandfather gives her GONE WITH THE WIND. 

In neither instance do we see Florence pushing back on either writer or book. Does she not realize that they are problematic? Who was her editor? Did that person not know? Or ... did they discuss these? Will this get resolved in later chapters? 

Elyse starts in on Charlie's identity, telling Lucky "You got yourself a little Mexican boy to play with."

Charlie yells "I'm Dominican!"

Elyse replies "Dominican, Mexican. Who cares? They're both brown. Why don't you just go back to wherever it is that you came from?"

That scene is more of the melodrama I noted in earlier scenes. These scenes are needlessly full of hurtful content.

Things like that get said, today, in the US and Canada, but as written, they seem to revel in the hurt. There's little regard for readers. 

Charlie starts yelling at Elyse, in Spanish. Elyse tells him he can do better than an Indian whore, spits at Lucky and tells her nobody wants her "worthless ass" and that's why she's in foster care. And, she says...

"You're nothing. An Indian whore who has nothing to offer except what's between your legs."

Come on, @_secondstory... part of what you try to do is provide books for Native readers. This book assaults Native readers! 

We (readers) are supposed to know that Elyse is mean, racist, etc. but it is a failure of the writer to inflict hurt in the ways that Florence does. It does not feel to me like she cares about a Native reader. 

Furious, Lucky throws a punch at Elyse but just at the last second Charlie steps between the two girls. The punch knocks him to the pavement where he hits his head, hard. Elyse and friends saunter away, ambulance is called, Charlie has a concussion. 

Lucky imagines that she's killed him, that he'll have brain damage.

Doctors say he'll be ok.

School is expelling Lucky again, so she has to go to another foster home. 

That third foster home is good but the father is being transferred to another location, so, Lucky has to go to another home. This one has several girls near her age in it; Lucky is burned out from trying to make things work at the other foster homes. 

In the morning she puts on one of the sweaters her grandmother had knitted for her. When she initially packed clothes she packed the sweaters, even though they were small. This one is tight. Mia (one of the other girls) says it is a "slutty sweater."

The mom (Janine) works at the school. By the time they get to school and are by the school office, Lucky shoves Mia and gets ready to hit her but Janine stops her and then tells Lucky info from her file that is, to Lucky's surprise, accurate. 

All through her stays in these foster homes, Lucky has visited her grandmother in the senior facility she's in for Alzheimers. Sometimes she recognizes Lucky; sometimes not. To visit her this time, Lucky took $5 from Janine's purse, thinking she'll pay her back later. 

When Lucky gets back that night, Janine is waiting and Lucky expects her to accuse Lucky of stealing and that the social worker is coming to get her but instead, Janine hugs her, saying she was worried about her. Lucky tells her about taking the money. 

But Janine tells her she'll drive her next time. When she goes to her room she sees that Janine left a book for her on the nightstand. The book is Stephen King's THE SHINING.

Again... odd choice, given the Indians in it...

At breakfast next day Janine makes pancakes. The syrup reminds Lucky of maple butter, so she tells them about putting maple butter on bannock. Mia asks what bannock is and--finally! We read a specific tribal name! I'm rdg a Kindle copy and am at Location 2175 of 2367. 

Lucky tells them "It's a kind of bread... we're Cree. My grandparents and I."

Janine suggests Lucky teach them; Mia says she doesn't like Indian food. Lucky thinks Mia is racist. 

As days pass, Janine continues to make Lucky feel welcome. Lucky holds on to hope that her grandmother will get better and that they'll return to their home, but on one visit, her grandmother tells her that isn't going to happen and that she's put their house on the market. 

She gonna put the money from the sale into an account for Lucky to go to college and is updating her will so that Lucky's mother can't get at any of it. In the car, Lucky cries and Janine comforts her.

At Janine's, Mia continues to harass Lucky. 

One day Mia asks Lucky if she likes "showing off your tits" and Lucky ignores her. Mia asks "Are all Indians deaf or just you? Or maybe you're stupid? Is that it?" Lucky clenches her fists. Mia says "Give it your best shot. I've fought girls more savage than you, Pocahontas."

As I noted earlier in the thread, these conflict scenes feel gratuitous and Florence (the author) seems oblivious to how they might impact a Native reader. 

There's warmth in ch 66 when Janine brings Lucky's grandmother, Jake & Charlie and Lucy (from previous foster homes) over for Lucky's birthday. Mia had watched Lucky make bannock and has made some for the party. 

Ryan is there, too (Lucky has stayed in touch with him throughout the book). There are thoughtful gifts; Lucky feels that this is finally like home. The story ends with her blowing out the birthday cake candles.