Established in 2006 by Dr. Debbie Reese of Nambé Pueblo, American Indians in Children's Literature (AICL) provides critical analysis of Indigenous peoples in children's and young adult books. Dr. Jean Mendoza joined AICL as a co-editor in 2016.
On July 3, 2008, my blog post was "Selective Omissions, or, What Laura Ingalls Wilder left out of LITTLE HOUSE." In a nutshell, it was about a speech she gave wherein she said some things were not appropriate reading for young children, so, she left them out of her book. The example she gave was of a family named the Benders. She said they were murderers, that many bodies were found on their property, and that Pa had joined a group of men from town to go find them.
Soon after I uploaded that post, I got comments saying that Laura and her family were not actually living in Indian Territory when that whole incident with the Benders took place.
I suggest you go to that post and read it, and then come back here and continue reading...
A few days ago, I was reading a blog called Condensery, specifically the post titled "Laura Ingalls Wilder and the Bloody Benders." There, I learned that Rose (Laura's daughter) had actually written up that Bender story and included it in Pioneer Girl, which was the unpublished memoir of Laura's life, co-written by Laura and her daughter. The Pioneer Girl website says that the hand-written manuscript is not available for viewing or study, but that it is available via microfilm. Here's an excerpt, from the blog from laura ingalls wilder to cyberbessie linked to from Condensery.
One night just about sundown a strange man came riding his horse up to the door on a run. Pa hurried out and they talked a few minutes. Then the man went away as fast as he had come, and pa came into the house in a hurry. He would not wait for supper, but asked Ma to give him a bite to eat right away, saying he must go. Something horrible had happened at Benders.
Ma put bread, meat, and some of those good pickles on the table, and Pa talked while he ate. Mary and I hung at the table's edge, looking at the pickles. I heard Pa say "dead," and thought somebody at benders was dead. Pa said, "Already twenty or more, in the cellar." He said, "Benders-- where I stopped for a drink. She asked me to come in."
Ma said, "Oh Charles, thank God!"
I did not understand and felt confused. Mary kept asking Ma why she thanked God, and Ma did not answer... Then Pa said, "They found a little girl, no bigger than Laura. They'd thrown her in on top of her father and mother and tramped the ground down on them, while the little girl was still alive."
I screamed, and Ma told Pa he should have known better.
I'd really like to see the original manuscript! Laura, in her speech, said she left out the whole Bender story because it wasn't fit for children. Did Rose put it in? And then what... Was it cut at the publishing house? Details are a little (or a lot) murky... Made all the murkier because the Ingalls family wasn't even in that area when the Bender family murderers were exposed!
The ins and outs of the LITTLE HOUSE saga.... There's always more to learn. I'm glad to have come upon Condensery's blog and this post in particular.
Some months ago, I agreed to speak with Glynnis MacNicol about a podcast that she was doing with Emily Marinoff for iHeartPodcasts. She'd read my blog posts about Little House on the Prairie and decided to see if I would be interested in being interviewed for the podcast. I've done a lot of work on that book series and given a few interviews. I said yes and we talked for an hour, maybe more. I don't remember. Anyway, the first episode of the podcast dropped today. I listened to it. My impressions so far are good. MacNicol is trying to figure out her attachment to the books. The first episode is described like this:
Host Glynnis MacNicol has loved Laura Ingalls Wilder and her Little House books since she was a kid. She’s not alone in this, a lot of people have a strong devotion to Laura. Some travel miles to visit her houses and attend pageants dedicated to Laura and her books. But over the years, Laura, her work, and her legacy have become increasingly controversial. How do we reckon with the things we loved as a child? The stuff that made us who we are? Glynnis takes to the road to find out, driving across the midwest to all of Laura’s houses. First stop: Walnut Grove, Minnesota.
I'm not sure if I'll be able to do a blog post after each one. I have a busy summer ahead of me! I'm definitely going to listen and if I find myself needing to respond, I will. Here's some thoughts about episode one, "Now is Now."
The first part is similar to what I hear when people share their memories of reading the books when they were young. Later though, I hear the questioning. The reckoning.
That part begins when MacNicol speaks to Keiko Satomi, at approximately the 30 minute mark. Satomi starts by talking about reading the books in 2nd or 3rd grade, captivated by the sensory details and scale that were so different from where she grew up in Japan on a small island surrounded by water. MacNicol knew there was a Japanese fan base for Wilder but thought it was due to the television show. She finds out it goes back further than that, to WWII. Satomi, as an adult, says she realized there was a political dimension to her having read the books as a child. It was, she said, "calculated to bring that literature for a certain purpose, a political reason." That realization gave her mixed feelings about the books. After Hiroshima and Nagasaki, MacNicol says, The Long Winter was one of the first books General Douglas MacArthur selected for translation into Japanese. That really piqued my interest, so I poked around a bit to see what I might learn about that.
In 2021, Michael B. Pass at the University of Ottawa wrote an article called Red Hair in a Global World: A Japanese History of Anne of Green Gables and Prince Edward Island for the Journal of L.M. Montgomery Studies. In it, Pass writes that the Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers (SCAP) decreed it would license foreign books if they furthered the objectives of the occupation by helping democratize Japanese society. MacArthur's wife, Jean, recommended Wilder's The Long Winter. In 2006, Noriko Suzuki wrote "Japanese Democratization and the Little House Books: The Relation between General Head Quarters and The Long Winter in Japan after World War II in Children's Literature Association Quarterly, Vol 31, #1. Suzuki's article has a lot of fascinating details, and they write that MacArthur "saw the Little House books as an effective educational apparatus for inculcating American democracy in Japanese schoolchildren." They were placed in libraries and schools where they became deeply popular.
In the podcast, Satomi says she thinks differently now about the books because of the ways that Native peoples are depicted. I'm glad for that because in my experience doing workshops with educators, they don't remember the passages in the series that depict Native peoples as savage or primitive. I hope some will hear what Satomi says and will look again at their embrace of the books. I think MacNicol is doing that with the podcast. I wonder where she'll end up?
A quick same-day update: contradictions abound. The translation of The Long Winter was done in 1949. The goal in making it available in Japan was over democracy. Think back to US society at that time. How democratic was it? Was everyone treated the same? Could everyone vote?
Little House in the Big Woods, by Laura Ingalls Wilder, is Favorite Book #23 in Elizabeth Bird's SLJ "Top 100 Novels" countdown. Published in 1932, Bird says "As of right now, it has sold about sixty million copies in thirty-three languages."
Sixty million! That's a lot of people reading these words in "The Story of Pa and the Voice in the Woods" that begins on page 53:
"When I was a little boy, not much bigger than Mary, I had to go every afternoon to find the cows in the woods and drive them home. My father told me never to play by the way, but to hurry and bring the cows home before dark, because there were bears and wolves and panthers in the woods.
"One day I started earlier than usual, so I thought I did not need to hurry. There were so many things to see in the woods that I forgot that dark was coming. There were red squirrels in the trees, chipmunks scurrying through the leaves, and little rabbits playing games together in the open places. Little rabbits, you know, always have games together before they go to bed.
"I began to play I was a mighty hunter, stalking the wild animals and the Indians. I played I was fighting the Indians, until all woods seemed full of wild men, and then all at once I heard the birds twittering 'good night.' It was dusky in the path, and dark in the woods.
There is no further mention of Indians as Pa continues his story. (The voice he heard was actually an owl.)
It is that last paragraph above that gives me pause. Wilder writes "I began to play I was a mighty hunter, stalking the wild animals and the Indians." Indians who she then calls "wild men." Wilder tells us this story, presumably a story her Pa told to her... A story wherein Pa tells her how he imagined himself, as a kid, hunting Indians. Hunting Indians.
Pa (the adult) told Laura (the child) and Laura (the writer) told children that Indians are like animals to be hunted.
Did that paragraph leap out at you as you read the book?
When you read the book to children now, what do you do with that passage?
In his July/August 2009 editorial in Horn Book Magazine, Roger Sutton poses a question about eligibility for the Coretta Scott King Award. I was looking at Horn Book's articles online, trying to find Neil Gaiman's speech (the one he gave when he won the 2009 Newbery). I was doing that because I'd just read an interview with Gaiman, in which he said something that surprised me, and I wondered if he repeated it in his Newbery speech. He did not. Here's what he said in the interview:
"The great thing about having an English cemetery is I could go back a very, very, very long way. And in America, you go back 250 years (in a cemetery), and then suddenly you’ve got a few dead Indians, and then you don’t have anybody at all, unless you decide to set it up in Maine or somewhere and sneak in some Vikings.”
I blogged that remark and provided some context for how I interpret it, too. [Update, April 18, 9:00 PM---Mr. Gaiman responded, clarifying his remarks, so please do go read what he said.] I'm reading his words after having spent the better part of the previous 24 hours studying (again) the ways that American Indians appear in Elizabeth Bird's Top 100 Children's Novels. I conclude that the ignorance on display in the Top 100 novels is alive and well---frighteningly so---in Mr. Gaiman. While he exhibits ignorance about American Indians in that remark, his book (at #80 on the list) does not actually have anything to do with American Indians. Neither does L. Frank Baum's The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, published in 1900. It is #40 on the list. Baum, however, was outright racist in the editorials he wrote for the Aberdeen Saturday Pioneer. Here's an excerpt from the editorial dated December 20, 1890:
"The Whites, by law of conquest, by justice of civilization, are masters of the American continent, and the best safety of the frontier settlements will be secured by the total annihilation of the few remaining Indians. Why not annihilation? Their glory has fled, their spirit broken, their manhood effaced; better that they die than live the miserable wretches that they are. History would forget these latter despicable beings, and speak, in later ages of the gory of these Grand Kings of forest and plain that Cooper loved to heroism."
Turning, now, from ignorance and racism of authors, to portrayals of American Indians in Elizabeth Bird's Top 100 Children's Novels. Here's my list (see notes at bottom):
#99 - The Indian in the Cupboard, by Lynne Reid Banks, published in 1980
#94 - Swallows and Amazons, by Arthur Ransome, published in 1930
#90 - Sarah, Plain and Tall, by Patricia MacLachlan, published in 1985
#87 - The View from Saturday, by E. L. Konigsburg, published in 1996
#85 - On the Banks of Plum Creek, by Laura Ingalls Wilder, published in 1937
#78 - Johnny Tremain, by Esther Forbes, published in 1943
#68 - Walk Two Moons, by Sharon Creech, published in 1994
#63 - Gone Away Lake, by Elizabeth Enrich, published in 1957
#61 - Stargirl, by Jerry Spinelli, published in 2000
#59 - Inkheart, by Cornelia Funke, published in 2003
#50 - Island of the Blue Dolphins, by Scott O'Dell, published in 1960
#46 - Where the Red Fern Grows, by Wilson Rawls, published in 1961
#42 - Little House on the Prairie, by Laura Ingalls Wilder, published in 1935
#41 - The Witch of Blackbird Pond, by Elizabeth George Speare, published in 1958
#34 - The Watsons Go to Birmingham, by Christopher Paul Curtis, published in 1995
#31 - Half Magic, by Edward Eager, published in 1954
#25 - Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott, published in 1868/1869
#24 - Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, by J.K. Rowling, published in 2007
#23 - Little House in the Big Woods, by Laura Ingalls Wilder, published in 1932
#17 - Maniac Magee, by Jerry Spinelli, published in 1990
#16 - Harriet the Spy, by Louise Fitzhugh, published in 1964
#13 - Bridge to Terabithia, by Katherine Paterson, published in 1977
#1 - Charlotte's Web, by E. B. White, published in 1952
If I studied the Library of Congress info for these books, I think only one---Julie of the Wolves---would be categorized in some way as having to do with Native people. None of the authors above is known to be an American Indian, with the possible exception of Wilson Rawls. He said his mother was part Cherokee. He does not assert that identity for himself.
In a video interview, Elizabeth Bird talked about the lack of diversity on her list. There, she talks about how she developed the list. It was a tremendous amount of work, and I'm grateful to her for doing it. Her list provides us with a snapshot that is worth mulling over, for lots of reasons. My particular lens, of course, is American Indians. At 2:48, Elizabeth notes that the list lacks diversity.
It lacks diversity, I agree. Sherman Alexie, Joseph Bruchac, Louise Erdrich, Cynthia Leitich Smith, Richard Van Camp---none of the more successful Native writers are on the list. But overall, it does not lack for portrayals of American Indians.
I say that in jest, of course, because most of those portrayals are in some way, stereotypical or biased. If you are a librarian, and you use this list to build your collection, you will not be providing your readers with a single worthy image of American Indians. A few of them are innocuous---like the Indian blanket in Charlotte's Web---but most are problematic. From "Honest Injun" to sitting "Indian style" to hunting Indians, there's a lot to say.
In the coming days I will work with my notes and develop some observations, but I am pasting the notes below and invite your thoughts. (I apologize in advance for inconsistencies in style and format of presentation. Some of what you'll find was posted before to American Indians in Children's Literature.) If you use some of this info for something you write, please cite this blog as the source of your information.
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DEBBIE REESE'S NOTES ON PORTRAYALS OF AMERICAN INDIANS IN ELIZABETH BIRDS TOP 100 CHLDREN'S NOVELS
Number 99 is The Indian in the Cupboard by Lynne Reid Banks, published in 1980. See Feb 10, 2010.
Number 94 is Swallows and Amazons by Arthur Ransom, published in 1930.
On page 16, Roger is "keeping a sharp lookout lest he should be shot by a savage with a poisoned arrow from behind a tree."
On page 137, the children come across what they call a "Red Indian wigwam" from which emerges "a very friendly savage". Ransom's use of "Red Indian" was (is?) common in the United Kingdom.
On page 231, Nancy shouts "Honest Injun" .
On page 267, Nancy writes that John had "come at risk of his life to warn you that savage natives were planning an attack on your houseboat."
I think I'll have to find some time to study Swallows and Amazons....
Number 93 is Caddie Woodlawn by Carol Ryrie Brink, published in 1935. I wrote about it on Feb 10, 2010.
Number 90 is Sarah, Plain and Tall by Patricia MacLachlan, published in 1985. On page 17 is "Indian paintbrush".
Number 87 is The View from Saturday by E. L. Konigsburg, published in 1996. Early in the book, there is a discussion of what constitutes diversity. Mrs. Olinski tells Mr. Rohmer that the Academic Bowl team includes "a Jew, a half-Jew, a WASP, and an Indian." (p. 22). Mr. Rohmer tells her the first three don't count, and that the proper term for the Indian is "Native American". (The Indian on the team is East Indian.)
Number 85 is On the Banks of Plum Creek, by Laura Ingalls Wilder. The word "Indian" appears 12 times in the book, most of them about their time in Indian Territory.
On page 143, Mary tells Laura to keep her sunbonnet on or "You'll be as brown as an Indian, and what will the town girls think of us?"
On page 218, Laura says "I wish I was an Indian and never had to wear clothes!" Course, Ma chides her for saying that, especially for saying it "on Sunday!"
I've written a lot about Wilder's books (see set of links at the bottom of this page), specifically, Little House on the Prairie, which I expect will be in the top tier of Elizabeth's survey.
Number 78 is Johnny Tremain, written by Esther Forbes, published in 1943. I'm going to have to reread that one... I pulled it up on Google books and it looks like Forbes may have done a reasonable job describing the way the colonists dressed for the Boston Tea Party on December 16, 1773. The popular perception in America (thanks to a lithograph titled "The Destruction of Tea at Boston Harbor" done in 1846, 73 years after the event took place) is that the colonists dressed in fringe, face paint and feathered headdresses, but they did not do that. Here's what Forbes wrote in Johnny Tremain about the colonists getting ready (p. 140):
...they started to assume their disguises, smootch their faces with soot, paint them with red paint, pull on nightcaps, old frocks, torn jackets, blankets with holes cut for their arms...
See? No fringed buckskin. On page 141, Forbes writes that Johnny "had a fine mop of feathers standing upright in the old knitted cap he would wear on his head..."
I have notes on this somewhere.... I don't recall red paint and feather caps, but the rest of what Forbes writes matches what I recall. I'm mostly glad to see the accuracy of her description of the disguises, but disappointed when I get to page 143:
"Quick!" he [Rab] said, and smootched his face with soot, drew a red line across his mouth running from ear to ear. Johnny saw Rab's eyes through the mask of soot. They were glowing with that dark excitement he had seen but twice before. His lips were parted. His teeth looked sharp and white as an animals.
The character, Rab, in his painted face, becomes animal like. That is a familiar frame: Indian people and animals, very much alike. And of course, it is wrong.
In her discussion of Johnny Tremain, Bird includes a clip from the 1957 Disney film of the movie. In the clip, the colonists, some in fringed clothes, some in knit caps with feathers stuck into them, some with headbands and feathers, and some with painted faces, sing "Sons of Liberty."
Number 73 is My Side of the Mountain, by Jean Craighead George, published in 1959. The word "Indian" appears on six different pages.
On page 22, Sam writes that he read that river birch "has combustible oil in it that the Indians used to start fires."
On page 31, he remembers that Indians made dugout canoes with fire.
On page 43, he refers to feathers in an Indian quiver.
On page 65, Sam has pancakes that are flat and hard, which he imagines Indian bread is like.
On page 108 is a reference to "playing cowboys and Indians."
On page 141, it is springtime, but aspens and birch trees "were still bent like Indian bows."
Number 66 is Walk Two Moons, by Sharon Creech. On February 5, 2007, I published Beverly Slapin's review of the book here. In a nutshell? Not recommended! [Note, April 16, 2010: Also see my review essay, "Thoughts on Sharon Creech's Walk Two Moons", published on Feb. 25, 2010.]
Number 63 is Gone Away Lake written by Elizabeth Enrich in 1957. I did a search of content (used Google Books) and found four uses of "Indian" in the book.
Page 141: "Now and then (unnecessarily since they never looked back), he would freeze and stand still as an Indian in the shadows."
Page 198: "She just sat there, Baby-Belle did, with her arms folded on her chest staring at Mrs. Brace-Gideon severely, like an Indian chief or a judge or somebody like that."
Page 217: "the pale little crowds of Indian pipes and the orange jack-o'-lantern mushrooms that pushed up the needles."
Page 756: "in the distance, by the river's edge, a tiny Indian campfire burned with the colors of an opal."
In Gone Away Lake, one of the characters is named Minnehaha, which is from Longfellow. I don't know why she's named that. It is commonly regarded as an "Indian" name, but it is not. We can thank (or blame) Longfellow for so much of the mistaken information that circulates!
Number 61 is Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli, published in 2000. On page 10, Spinelli writes that Stargirl wears outrageous clothes to school. Among them is "An Indian buckskin."
Number 59 is Inkheart by Cornelia Funke, published in 2003. On page 206, Flatnose tells Basta that it will be hard to find Meggie, Mo, Elinor, and Dustfinger's trail in the dark. Flatnose replies "Exactly!" and "We're not bloody native trackers, are we?"
Number 50 is Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O'Dell, published in 1960. I have not yet read this... And that is a huge problem, given its status...
Number 46 is Where the Red Fern Grows by Wilson Rawls, published in 1961.
On page 10, "The land we lived on was Cherokee land, allotted to my mother because of the Cherokee blood that flowed in her veins."
Page 43, "I reached way back in Arkansas somewhere. By the time my fist had traveled all the way down to the Cherokee Strip, there was a lot of power behind it.
On page 143, where Rubin says "A long time ago some Indians lived here and farmed these fields."
On page 254, Billy recalls that he "had heard the old Indian legend about the red fern. How a little Indian boy and girl were lost in a blizzard and had frozen to death. In the spring, when they were found, a beautiful red fern had grown up between their two bodies. The story went on to say that only an angel could plant the seeds of a red fern, and that they never died; where one grew, that spot was sacred."
According to Bird, much of the book is based on Rawls childhood in Scraper, Oklahoma where he lived until he was 15 or 16. Given his birthyear (1913), he was in Oklahoma from 1913 to 1928 or 1929. Scraper is in Cherokee County, Oklahoma, and is near Tahlequah, which is where the Cherokee Nation's offices are located. I was surprised, on reading Scholastic's guide for the book, to learn that Rawls's mother, Winnie Hatfield Rawls, was part Cherokee. The guide says (page 6):
"...she had been given some land in Oklahoma by the federal government. (The United States gave land to some Native Americans who had been displaced from their original land.)"
Gave?! Gave?! Nope. The guide is referring to the process by which the United States government forcibly moved several Indian Nations from their homelands TO what came to be called Indian Territory, and then, took that land from them, too, through acts passed by Congress that were designed to break up their identity as Native Nations and allot them parcels of land.
But going back to the book itself, Rawls, who (if the guide is correct) was part Cherokee. It seems to me he was not at all familiar with that identity. He has the character, Rubin, saying "A long time ago some Indians lived here...." Was Billy part Cherokee? Maybe he was hiding that identity. Maybe Rawls and his family hid that identity. The violence inflicted on Native people during that time prompted many to hide it... I'm curious about the legend, too. I wonder if that is a story from the Cherokees oral tradition? And I wonder why, when Billy went to Tahlequah to get the puppies, he doesn't mention any Cherokees there?
Number 42 is Little House on the Prairie by Laura Ingalls Wilder. Published in 1935, I've had a lot to say on American Indians in Children's Literature about the book. Scroll down to the bottom and see the set of links, or, look over in the sidebars...
Number 41 is The Witch of Blackbird Pondby Elizabeth George Speare, published in 1958. Given its setting (1687, in Connecticut), there are references to fights with Indians, fights with Indians and wolves, and Indian attacks (see pages 40, 51, 59, 145, 187, 191, and 192).
Number 34 is The Watsons Go to Birmingham-1963 by Christopher Paul Curtis.
Page 50: "...looked like we were in the Wild West and I was a wagon train and Byron was the Indians circling, waiting to attack
Page 88: "This looked like the Indians circling the wagons again, but this time it was Byron who had to be the white people!"
Number 31 is Half Magic by Edward Eager, published in 1954. On page 45, the children are approached by a "ragged Arab" to whom Martha says "How!" Mark hisses to her, under his breath "What do you think he is, an Indian?"
Number 25 is Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, published in 1868 and 1869.
On page 201, "Laurie opened the parlor door and popped his head in very quietly. He might just as well have turned a somersault and uttered an Indian war whoop, for his face was so full of suppressed excitement and his voice so treacherously joyful that everyone jumped up..."
On page 245, "It was a pictorial sheet, and Jo examined the work of art nearest her, idly wondering what unfortuitous concatenation of circumstances needed the melodramatic illustration of an Indian in full war costume, tumbling over a precipice with a wolf at his throat, while two infuriated young gentlemen..."
Number 24 is Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, published in 2007. Reading it aloud with my daughter when it came out, we surprised when we got to page 216. At that point in the book, Harry is looking at a photograph of Albus Dumbledore's family. We were surprised to read:
"The mother, Kendra, had jet-black hair pulled into a high bun. Her face had a carved quality about it. Harry thought of photos of Native Americans he'd seen as he studied her dark eyes, high cheekbones, and straight nose, formally composed above a high-necked silk gown."
Number 23 is Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder, published in 1932. I wrote about this on March 19, 2010, quoting the passage from the book where Pa, as a kid, played that he was hunting Indians. Here's the specific passage (from page 53), but do go read my entire entry on that day.
"I began to play I was a mighty hunter, stalking the wild animals and the Indians. I played I was fighting the Indians, until all woods seemed full of wild men, and then all at once I heard the birds twittering 'good night.'
Number 20 is The Lightning Thief, by Rick Riordan, published in 2005.
On page 171: "It was one of those weird roadside curio shops that sell lawn flamingos and wooden Indians and cement grizzly bears and stuff like that.
Number 17 is Maniac Magee by Jerry Spinelli, published in 1990.
On page 80, a kid sits "Indian-style" and,
On page 150, John tells Maniac what he imagines: "the blacks sweeping across Hector one steaming summer night; torches, chains, blades, guns, war cries; marauding, looking, overrunning the West End; climbing in through smashed windows, doors, looking for whites, bloodthirsty for whites, like Indians in the old days, Indians on a raid... That's what they are, Giant John nodded thoughtfully, "today's Indians."
Number 16 is Harriet the Spy by Louise Fitzhugh, published in 1964.
On page 4, Harriet and Sport talk about what they will be when they grow up. Writing about character names and professions in her notebook, she says "You've got to have a doctor, a lawyer---" and then, Sport interrupts, saying "And an Indian chief."
On page 96, Ole Golly blushes when Mr. Waldenstein calls her attractive. The text reads "The crimson zoomed up Ole Golly's face again, making her look exactly like a hawk-nosed Indian. Big Chief Golly, Harriet thought, what is happening to you?"
Number 13 is Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson, published in 1977. This is from page 128:
After lunch, they trotted through the drizzle to the Smithsonian to see the dinosaurs and the Indians. There they came upon a display case holding a miniature scene of Indians disguised in buffalo skins scaring a herd of buffalo into stampeding over a cliff to their death with more Indians waiting below to butcher and skin them. It was a three-dimensional nightmare version of some of his own drawings.
Number 1 is Charlotte's Web by E. B. White, published in 1952. The word "Indian" appears twice, both times in reference to a blanket that Lurvy won.
Today, Elizabeth Bird (a blogger at School Library Journal), posted her review of Louise Erdrich's The Porcupine Year. It is Erdrich's third book in a series that began with The Birchbark House.
Bird clearly loves the book. I don't know if she posts a live countdown for every book she reviews, but there is one there for the moment when The Porcupine Year hits the shelves on September 2nd.
Earlier this year I listened to Erdrich read from her new novel, The Plague of Doves. It came out in April and is in its third printing. The story she tells is based on the lynching of three American Indians in 1897 in North Dakota. At the 2006 New Yorker Festival she read aloud the story "The Plague of Doves" that would become the novel. If you want to hear that reading, click here.
I bring up her reading here because today, months after I heard her read, those voices are still with me. A gifted writer, she is also an outstanding reader. I'd love to hear her read aloud The Porcupine Year! Like Elizabeth, I was taken with the dialog.
And, as with her first book, Erdrich gives us an honest portrayal of peoples in conflict. In her books, there is none of the savage melodrama that Wilder uses in her series. The world might be a better place if we replaced every copy of Wilder's Little House on the Prairie with Erdrich's series. In Erdrich, children see human and humane, fully developed Native characters whose culture is in conflict with those who want what they have. Thoughtful and thought-provoking.
Yesterday afternoon I was at the University of Wisconsin-Madison with Janice Rice. We were there at the invitation of Ryan Comfort of the American Indian Curriculum Services office in the School of Education.
Working with the theme "Expanding the Narrative," I talked about problems with "the Narrative" as exemplified by Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House on the Prairie, and, uncritical observance and activities about Thanksgiving. Janice highlighted books that have been selected for the American Indian Library Association's Youth Literature Award. We also talked about Best Practice, Censorship and Selection.
Time sped by! The turnout was terrific, and it was wonderful to spend time with people in the Native community there---Janice, Ryan, JP, Adrienne, Crystal (I hope I've spelled your name right!)---and, friends at CCBC---KT, Janice, Megan, and Amanda.
In the CCBC, I had a few minutes to myself and realized they probably had a copy of the 1935 edition of Little House on the Prairie---the version I wrote about last week. I asked Amanda, and she got it out for me. Hurray! I started paging through it, and realized (in hindsight, I'm doing a "doh!") that Helen Sewell and Garth Williams illustrated different stories in the book. Page through your copy of the Williams-illustrated-edition and note how many times his illustrations are of Indians. Sewell, on the other hand, has a single illustration of Indians. Hers is in the chapter, "Indians Ride Away." She shows a naked Indian riding a horse. The caption reads "The little Indians did not have to wear clothes."
When I got home from Madison late this afternoon, my mail included that 1935 copy I ordered last week. Again, hurray! I can now do a close comparison of the 1935/Sewell with the 1953/Williams editions of Little House on the Prairie, looking at text and illustration. Questions! Williams did a lot of Indian illustrations. Was this his choice? Was he cued by Nordstrom? Wilder? What prompted Williams to do so many Indians?
Thanks, Ryan, for inviting me, and thanks, Janice! I think we did a good job with our presentation. Thanks, too, to all of you who came to hear what we shared.
A week ago (Feb 10, 2010), I wrote about Elizabeth Bird's survey at SLJ. She asked readers to send her a list of their all time favorite novels. With that info, she's compiling a list, providing quite a lot of information about each book that is on the list of Top 100. On Feb 10, I wrote about two of the books on the list: Indian in the Cupboard, and, Caddie Woodlawn. Today, I'm taking a quick look at books between #90 and #66.
Number 94 is Swallows and Amazons by Arthur Ransom, published in 1930. (Note, April 17, 2010: I'm adding this book today.)
On page 16, Roger is "keeping a sharp lookout lest he should be shot by a savage with a poisoned arrow from behind a tree."
On page 137, the children come across what they call a "Red Indian wigwam" from which emerges "a very friendly savage". Ransom's use of "Red Indian" was (is?) common in the United Kingdom.
On page 231, Nancy shouts "Honest Injun" .
On page 267, Nancy writes that John had "come at risk of his life to warn you that savage natives were planning an attack on your houseboat."
I think I'll have to find some time to study Swallows and Amazons....
Number 85 is On the Banks of Plum Creek, by Laura Ingalls Wilder. The word "Indian" appears 12 times in the book, most of them about their time in Indian Territory.
On page 143, Mary tells Laura to keep her sunbonnet on or "You'll be as brown as an Indian, and what will the town girls think of us?"
On page 218, Laura says "I wish I was an Indian and never had to wear clothes!" Course, Ma chides her for saying that, especially for saying it "on Sunday!"
I've written a lot about Wilder's books (see set of links at the bottom of this page), specifically, Little House on the Prairie, which I expect will be in the top tier of Elizabeth's survey.
Number 78 is Johnny Tremain, written by Esther Forbes, published in 1943. I'm going to have to reread that one... I pulled it up on Google books and it looks like Forbes may have done a reasonable job describing the way the colonists dressed for the Boston Tea Party on December 16, 1773. The popular perception in America (thanks to a lithograph titled "The Destruction of Tea at Boston Harbor" done in 1846, 73 years after the event took place) is that the colonists dressed in fringe, face paint and feathered headdresses, but they did not do that. Here's what Forbes wrote in Johnny Tremain about the colonists getting ready (p. 140):
...they started to assume their disguises, smootch their faces with soot, paint them with red paint, pull on nightcaps, old frocks, torn jackets, blankets with holes cut for their arms...
See? No fringed buckskin. On page 141, Forbes writes that Johnny "had a fine mop of feathers standing upright in the old knitted cap he would wear on his head..."
I have notes on this somewhere.... I don't recall red paint and feather caps, but the rest of what Forbes writes matches what I recall. I'm mostly glad to see the accuracy of her description of the disguises, but disappointed when I get to page 143:
"Quick!" he [Rab] said, and smootched his face with soot, drew a red line across his mouth running from ear to ear. Johnny saw Rab's eyes through the mask of soot. They were glowing with that dark excitement he had seen but twice before. His lips were parted. His teeth looked sharp and white as an animals.
The character, Rab, in his painted face, becomes animal like. That is a familiar frame: Indian people and animals, very much alike. And of course, it is wrong.
In her discussion of Johnny Tremain, Bird includes a clip from the 1957 Disney film of the movie. In the clip, the colonists, some in fringed clothes, some in knit caps with feathers stuck into them, some with headbands and feathers, and some with painted faces, sing "Sons of Liberty."
Number 66 is Walk Two Moons, by Sharon Creech. On February 5, 2007, I published Beverly Slapin's review of the book here. In a nutshell? Not recommended! [Note, April 16, 2010: Also see my review essay, "Thoughts on Sharon Creech's Walk Two Moons", published on Feb. 25, 2010.]
Number 63 is Gone Away Lake written by Elizabeth Enrich in 1957. I did a search of content (used Google Books) and found four uses of "Indian" in the book.
Page 141: "Now and then (unnecessarily since they never looked back), he would freeze and stand still as an Indian in the shadows."
Page 198: "She just sat there, Baby-Belle did, with her arms folded on her chest staring at Mrs. Brace-Gideon severely, like an Indian chief or a judge or somebody like that."
Page 217: "the pale little crowds of Indian pipes and the orange jack-o'-lantern mushrooms that pushed up the needles."
Page 756: "in the distance, by the river's edge, a tiny Indian campfire burned with the colors of an opal."
In Gone Away Lake, one of the characters is named Minnehaha, which is from Longfellow. I don't know why she's named that. It is commonly regarded as an "Indian" name, but it is not. We can thank (or blame) Longfellow for so much of the mistaken information that circulates!
Earlier today, I saw a post on Facebook in which a person said, of Wilder's The Long Winter, "this is the only book that can put what's happening in Boston in perspective. It could be worse, wicked worse."
The woman who wrote that post must think she's being clever, comparing the blizzard in Boston to the one in The Long Winter.
If you care about accuracy in how Native peoples are depicted, or if you care about how derogatory depictions of Native people impact the growing minds of Native and non-Native children, then I think we'd agree that it is long past time to set aside that series.
Because of their status and
place of nostalgia in the minds
of so many Americans,
few books for children are as wicked
as those in the Little House on the Prairie series.
Ah---you say, 'there were Indians in The Long Winter?'
Yes. The chapter called "Indian Warning" has a "very old Indian" in it. Here's from page 61:
"Heap big snow come," this Indian said.
As he gestures, the blanket he is wearing slides off his shoulder and his "naked brown arm" came out. He continues:
"Heap big snow, big wind," he said.
Pa asks him how long, and of course he says "Many moons" and holds up four, and then three fingers that mean seven months of blizzards.
"You white men," he said. "I tell-um you."
On page 186, the wind grows louder and louder. It reminds Laura of the "Indian war whoops" when Indians were doing "war dances" by the Verdigris River when she was younger.
See what I mean? Stereotypes. Set it aside.
Update, Feb 17, 2015:
Anonymous submitted a comment indicating I was engaging in ageism by focusing on the "old Indian." My point in quoting those words is not about age. My point is that he is nameless and tribeless, and speaks using "many moons" and "heap big" and "tell-um" --- all of which are examples of speech patterns non-Native people attribute to Native people. You see those phrases a lot, regardless of location and, often, time period. As a literary device, it works for those who don't know better or who haven't paused to think about the sheer diversity that existed/exists across the Native peoples of this continent.
Update, Feb 18, 2015:
Notes on Indian-hating-Ma didn't make it into the initial post, so I'm adding them here.
On page 64, Pa is talking about how he feels the need to hurry to get their house ready for winter, especially given the information he got from "that Indian...":
He stopped.
"What Indian?" Ma asked him. She looked as if she were smelling the smell of an Indian whenever she said the word. Ma despised Indians. She was afraid of them, too.
"There's some good Indians," Pa always insisted. Now he added, "And they know some things that we don't. I'll tell you all about it at supper, Caroline."
Debbie's comments: Elsewhere, I've written about the effect of those words on a 3rd or 4th grade Native child (the age at which the books are read or read aloud in class). Imagine the sneer on Ma's face. Imagine the face of that Native child. Imagine the face of the non-Native child, just taking in that hate. As for good Indians, who might they be, in this particular story? The one who helped Pa. Just like in Little House on the Prairie. The bad ones there were the ones who were gathering and didn't want the Ingalls family on land that was meant for Native people. My guess? Pa and Ma would say that bad Indians in The Long Winter are those who object to having their lands declared surplus by the federal government and then sold to family's like the Ingalls family.
One of the things I noticed right away when I started to read Tim Tingle's How I Became a Ghost (published in 2013 by Roadrunner Press) is the prominence of the setting, and the words he chose for that setting:
See that? "Choctaw Nation." I did a quick search in Amazon, looking for other books in which an author used "Choctaw Nation" in a book that has Choctaw characters in it. Know what I found? There's one author who has done it several times--Tim Tingle. Interestingly, my search didn't turn up many children's books (in fiction) with the word "Choctaw" in them. The ones I did get are by Tim, and I gotta say, that makes me happy because Tim knows what he is doing. He is Choctaw. That he uses the word 'Nation' in his books is important. It conveys a basic fact that most people are unaware of: there are over 500 Native Nations in the United States. We decide who are citizens are, and we have a unique relationship with the United States government because of treaties our heads-of-state made with U.S. heads-of-state.
The other thing that I noticed is "Mississippi, 1830." Couple with its subtitle, "A Choctaw Trail of Tears Story," we know that we're about to read a story that begins in Mississippi where the Choctaw Nation was, and that the story is going to be about their removal from their homelands. There's a map, too, that can help readers visualize where the Choctaw Nation and its people were, and their routes to Indian Territory:
As the story opens, the protagonist, ten-year-old Isaac, is talking about playing with his dog, Jumper. Isaac and Jumper like to chase chickens. That's not ok:
"Make sure Jumper does not catch any chickens!" My Mother always yelled this from the back porch.
Think, for a moment, about the ways Native people are shown in popular works of historical fiction for children. Chances are, what came to your mind was tipis, and horses, buffaloes, and half-naked grunting Indian men of the kind that you got from Laura Ingalls Wilder in her book, set in 1869 (that was 39 years after the tribal nations of the southeast were moved to Indian Territory where they built houses with porches and schools, and towns... see why half-naked primitive Indians is incorrect?).
With How I Became A Ghost, Tingle is giving us something quite different from Wilder's stereotypes. He's giving us reality. Isaac and his family have a house with a front porch, and a back porch, and a garden. Having those things doesn't make them less Native. As you read through his story, you pick up on Choctaw ways of being that are very much part of their lives. Things like treaties are part of what the children know, too. "Treaty talk" is unsettling. With good reason.
There is a terrible tendency for writers to make Native spirituality into some kind of mystical or magical thing. Tingle doesn't do that. He gives it to us in a matter-of-fact way. He gives us Christian spirituality in that way, too. In his story, it has become part of the Choctaw way.
As the title suggests, Isaac is going to become a ghost, but this isn't a scary ghost story. Scary things do happen--this is a story about the forced relocation of a people, but it is more about the humanity of the people on that trail than it is about that forced relocation. How I Became A Ghost is about spirituality and community and perseverance. And laughter. There's some delightful moments in this story! Throughout, this story shines with the warmth that Tingle's storytelling voice brings to his writing. I highly recommend How I Became A Ghost. I have it on good authority that we'll hear more from Isaac. I look forward to it.
This is a quick post due to lack of a stable Internet connection.
On Thursday, June 8 of this year (2023), I wrote about the "Wilder" postcast that Glynnis MacNicol and Emily Marinoff are doing for iHeartPodcasts.
Right now I'm listening to episode 5, titled This American Life. There's discussion about things that actually happened and things that did not. In this episode, I paused when I heard "Happy Hunting Ground."
In By the Shores of Silver Lake, the family dog, Jack, dies. Pa tells Laura (location 293 of my e-copy):
"Don't cry, Laura," Pa said. "He has gone to the Happy Hunting Grounds."
"Truly, Pa?" Laura managed to ask.
"Good dogs have their reward, Laura," Pa told her.
Perhaps in the Happy Hunting Grounds, Jack was running gaily in the wind over some high prairie, as he used to run on the beautiful wild prairies of Indian Territory.
Laura clearly knows what Happy Hunting Grounds means. My guess is most AICL readers know "Happy Hunting Grounds" is supposed to mean heaven according to... Hesitating here, as you see, because this is one of those phrases that gets attributed to Native peoples, but is it something a Native person said? Does a Native Nation have the idea of an after life that when translated, becomes happy hunting grounds?
I asked similar questions about the phrase in 2006 when I came across it in Lois Lenski's Indian Captive: The Story of Mary Jemison. The entry at Wikipedia says the phrase first appeared in 1823 in The Pioneers by James Fenimore Cooper. It also says that Washington Irving (author of "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow) used it. I found it in Astoria, which came out in 1836:
The same provident care for the deceased that prevails among the hunting tribes of the prairies is observable among the piscatory tribes of the rivers and sea-coast. Among the former, the favorite horse of the hunter is buried with him in the same funereal mound, and his bow and arrows are laid by his side, that he may be perfectly equipped for the “happy hunting grounds” of the land of spirits.
I'm gonna hit 'publish' on this draft so it goes online. Later today I'll finish listening to the the Wilder podcast. If they take up the phrase, I'll definitely be back to add to this post. And when I have stable internet connections, I'll do some more research.
Classic and award-winning books of historical fiction suggest---powerfully---that American Indians were primitive people. Through these books, children are allowed to think that Indians were less-than-human. Primitive in lifestyle. Primitive in intellect.
But, that is not the case.
Here's a few facts to consider next time you read Laura Ingalls Wilder's Little House on the Prairie.
Charles took his family into "Indian Territory" in 1868.
By then, about 800--yes, that's right 800--treaties had been negotiated between the tribes and the federal government.
Let's think about that word a minute...
"Treaty."
Treaties are legal documents. They are contracts whose terms are negotiated between two (or more) states.
In order to enter into a treaty, one state has to recognize the other as a state.
States are entities comprised of people with territories that are recognized by the other state, and, these state entities have systems of government. Both states have leaders who enter into diplomatic negotiations.
So. Laura Ingalls Wilder is giving you an image of Indians that is a disservice and an insult to who they were. I think you could say she does you (the reader) a disservice, too, leading you to believe something that is not true.
She isn't solely responsible for this disservice. She had help in preparing her manuscripts. And, she had an editor, too.
You might want to take a few minutes to peruse lesson plans teachers use when they teach this book in their classrooms. If you find one that challenges the ways that American Indians are depicted, let me know! I'd love to see one. Is there a lesson plan out there, that helps children see the errors in these images? .
What’s it supposed to mean, to be American these days? White
supremacists are loud & proud at the highest level of government. Oligarchs
quietly funnel fortunes into campaigns against the public interest. The chief
executive and his minions gleefully disrespect entire populations of (usually
brown) human beings. A shameful number of people don’t even know that Puerto Rico
is part of the US … Being an American can feel, well, ugly.
Since the US was founded, Native people and people of color have dealt with definitions of Americanness that excluded and marginalize them and in the case of Native peoples, strip them of sovereignty, autonomy, and culture.
So it’s been hard to review the new picture book Americans by Douglas Wood (Simon & Schuster, 2018). Wood and
illustrator Elizabeth Sayles are clearly calling children’s attention to the
UNITED part of “United States”: “Americans share certain ways of doing and
being that hold us all together.”
The book communicates on several levels: full-page
illustrations, smaller spotlight illustrations, text, and several pages in the
back explaining the illustrations.
The first double-page spread begins, “Americans love.” The text
goes on, “We love our ideals of human dignity and freedom…” then mentions
families, neighbors, friends, and the beauty of the land. Several pages later is, “One thing Americans do really well
is disagree.” Images there refer to the Boston Tea Party, public protests for women’s
suffrage, civil rights, the labor movement, peace movements, and LGBTQ rights.
One child-figure carries a Black Lives Matter placard.
So where are the Indigenous people in Americans?
·In the cover illustration: Black Elk (Oglala
Lakota) is one of 7 public figures depicted. Explanatory text in the back notes
that he witnessed the defeat of Custer, spoke out against forcing Native people
from their lands, and told his life story in Black Elk Speaks. With him are Woody Guthrie, John Chapman (Johnny
Appleseed), Eleanor Roosevelt, Neil deGrasse Tyson, Michelle Obama, and…. Laura
Ingalls Wilder?! What the actual heck. Given how Wilder wrote about Native
people, her presence in the cover illustration positions Native people as
objects of a conflicted white gaze. (Black Elk Speaks is itself a problematic product of a non-Native scribe/filter/editor.)
·On the “Americans love” pages about beauty of
the land: spot illustration labeled “Totem Pole (Tlingit) of the Pacific
Northwest.” Explanatory text in the back basically says what totem poles are.
I’m not in a position to judge the accuracy of that text, but I know there’s
more to Tlingit totem poles than that. So I wish the author and illustrator had included their sources.
·On the “Americans believe” pages about the First
Amendment, and freedom to worship: spot illustration of“Pueblo Eagle Dance”. The author doesn’t
specify which Pueblo, and that’s a problem, especially since in the back pages,
it’s called “Native American Eagle Dance” – far too general. Debbie sees some
other important shortcomings that we can go into at another time. The
explanation emphasizes that the US government outlawed Native religious
practices until 1978 (with follow-up legislation in 1993), which is important
stuff for kids to know: the US ideal of religious freedom has always been
selective.
And that’s it for the intentional representations of
Indigenous people.
So, where AREN’T Native people in Americans?
·“Sometimes Americans fight” depicts the
settler revolution against Britain, the Tuskegee airmen, and some WWII scenes.
Not surprisingly, it doesn’t acknowledge the longest fight of all --
settler-colonial warfare against Indigenous people that eventually involved
Native nations from sea to sea.
·“But Americans also make peace.” It’s just as
well that those pages don’t depict the US military signing treaties with
Indigenous nations – treaties that the government broke as soon as settlers
wanted the land and other resources.
·The “Americans disagree” page doesn’t refer to
any influential protests specific to justice for Native people, like the
occupation of Alcatraz or Standing Rock. But it does include the Boston Tea
Party, during which colonizer men dressed in facsimiles of traditional Native
clothing while protesting taxes.
·“Americans choose” shows a wagon train on the
Oregon Trail, in the heart of Native lands, the heart of their existence -- but we
don’t see any Native people on these two pages. And the back-matter explanation
doesn’t mention Native homelands, or the fact that Native nations, in order to survive,
resisted the settler-colonizer invasion. Was that “a choice”? Maybe so, but not
much like the “choices” depicted in spot illustrations (a “Vote” button, a
young woman in a graduation cap).
·The “Americans make mistakes” pages show the
Dust Bowl, a child in a Japanese internment camp, Lincoln signing the
Emancipation Proclamation, and children wearing protective gloves while cleaning
a polluted river. There’s no acknowledgement that systemic greed, bigotry,
racism, classism, sexism, and short-sightedness are foundational problems, deeply rooted in “American”
society. They have spawned terrible “mistakes” like
water pollution and slavery -- not to mention genocide against Indigenous
people. And indeed, Americans doesn’t
mention it.
Americans doesn’t
entirely erase Native people, but it relegates them
to spots on the historical landscape, footnotes in a narrative that
embraces an ideal of “acceptable differences.” It barely hints at the complex and
painful relationship between the US and Indigenous nations/peoples, and turns away from the challenge of acknowledging that larger story.
Americans as a social studies offering nods in the direction of a few serious issues, but it seems to me to fall short of opening readers' eyes to ugly but real aspects of Americanness -- like racism, bigotry, genocide, greed for resources, exceptionalism that rationalizes bad behavior -- that kids will have to see if they are to fully grasp what it means to be “an American” now.
