BIG NEWS: A possible change in name of ALA's Laura Ingalls Wilder Award!

Editors note: If you are not attending ALA's Midwinter Conference, you can submit a comment directly to ALSC regarding the proposed change to the Laura Ingalls Wilder Award name at the ALSC blog. If you are attending, you can go to the meeting on Saturday (Feb 10). I welcome your comments here, as well, but urge you to submit comments directly to ALSC. 

______________

Earlier today, there was some big news!

Way back in 1954, the Association for Library Service to Children (ALSC) established the Laura Ingalls Wilder Award. It is given annually to an author or illustrator in the US whose books have made a "substantial and lasting contribution to literature for children."

On Saturday, Feb 10 at the American Library Association's 2018 Midwinter Conference, ALSC will begin a discussion about changing the name of the award.

As I look at the logo for the conference, the line "The conversation starts here..." takes on new meaning!

In Nina Lindsay's (she is current president of ALSC) memo about the discussion, she included information that brought ALSC to this point. Here's some lines from her memo:

Today, this award elevates a legacy that is not consistent with values of diversity and inclusion--something we did not fully understand as a profession when we created the award.

A member wrote to me: “the Wilder is a monument that says something about our profession's history, but every year it is given out it also says something about our present.” 

My work has shown me that critical reflection on Wilder and her books is--for some people--uncomfortable. It is hard to look carefully--and acknowledge--that Wilder's depictions of African Americans and Native people, are flawed and racist.

Some will argue that at the time she wrote the books, things like blackface and stereotyping weren't seen as wrong. But, of course, African Americans and Native peoples knew them to be wrong. Here's some examples from the books:

In Little House in the Big Woods (1932), Pa tells Laura and Mary about his childhood in New York, where he'd pretend he was "a mighty hunger, stalking the wild animals and the Indians" (p. 53).

In Farmer Boy (1933), Almanzo and and Alice play "wild Indian" (p. 277).

In Little House on the Prairie (1935), the phrase "the only good Indian is a dead Indian" appears three times. I've written a lot about that book. The memo about the change points to one of my articles. They are depicted in menacing ways:

In On the Banks of Plum Creek (1937), Mary tells Laura to put on her sunbonnet because if she doesn't "You'll be brown as an Indian, and what will the town girls think of us?" (p. 143).

In By the Shores of Silver Creek (1939), Ma recalls her fear of being scalped by "the savages" who had come into their house on the prairie (p. 100).

In The Long Winter (1940) when Pa mentions an Indian who told him that "heap bad snow come" (p. 61), Ma asks him what Indian, and she "looked as if she were smelling the smell of an Indian" (p. 64).

In Little Town on the Prairie (1941), Pa does blackface.  The newly released Kindle copies of the series changed the illustrations from black and white into color:

In These Happy Golden Years (1943), Uncle Tom tells about when he was on his way to the Black Hills, looking for gold, and had to go into a "strange depression" that, a prospector told him, the Indians called "the Bad Lands." The depression is a "heathenish" place with skulls and bones. Of it, Tom says "I think that when God made he world He threw all the leftover waste into that hole" (p. 106). When Laura and Almanzo are leaving, Grace runs out with Laura's sunbonnet, saying "Remember, Laura, Ma says if you don't keep your sunbonnet on, you'll be brown as an Indian!" (p. 284).

I was--and am--deeply moved by this news from ALSC! Here's their immediate plan:

In order to further move forward with a deliberate and open examination of our awards program, we suggest, at minimum, both of the following:  

1. Establish a task force to explore the ALSC awards program within the context of our core values and the Diversity & Inclusion goal of our strategic plan, beginning with whether to rename the Wilder Award. The task force should deliver recommendations regarding the Wilder in time for any changes to the 2019 award, soliciting feedback from members and other stakeholders, and consulting with the EDI within ALSC Implementation Task Force, ALSC Fiscal Officer, ALA Awards Committee, and other critical stakeholders upfront. Additionally, the task force may be charged with additional direction formed from the Board’s discussion.  

2. Immediately update the “About the Laura Ingalls Wilder Award” webpage with more informed background on Wilder and her legacy, and a statement about ALSC’s values and current actions in regard to the award. A proposed rewrite will be shared with the Board for discussion, and if the Board approves could be uploaded immediately, in time for the 2018 YMA announcements. A rewrite would additionally reaffirm the honor bestowed upon Wilder Award recipients, whose life work contributes essentially to ALSC’s vision of engaging communities to build healthy, successful, futures for all children.

I am a member of ALSC and will find out how I can contribute to the Task Force. I am also going to see how Native patrons of libraries across the country might be able to submit comments to the Task Force.

For me--as a Native parent, educator, and scholar--this has been a momentous day.

Update, 6:45 PM
Nina Lindsay submitted a comment below, which I am pasting here for your convenience. Above, I referenced the announcement and memo. The proper name is Document 29.

Debbie, thank you for sharing this. As the current ALSC President chairing this discussion, I'd invite everyone to visit http://connect.ala.org/node/272554 to find our board agenda and documents; this discussion is title "ALSC Awards Program in Context of Strategic Plan" and is Document 29. 

Allie Jane Bruce's review of LAURA INGALLS IS RUINING MY LIFE

Eds. note: AICL is pleased to publish Allie Jane Bruce's review of Laura Ingalls Is Ruining My Life, by Shelley Tougas. It was published in 2017 by Roaring Book Press (Macmillan). To read the introduction to this review, go to Allie's post at Reading While White.

Here's a description of the book (from the Macmillan website):

A life on the prairie is not all its cracked up to be for one girl whose mom takes her love of the Little House series just a bit too far.

Charlotte’s mom has just moved the family across the country to live in Walnut Grove, “childhood home of pioneer author Laura Ingalls Wilder.” Mom’s idea is that the spirit of Laura Ingalls will help her write a bestselling book. But Charlotte knows better: Walnut Grove is just another town where Mom can avoid responsibility. And this place is worse than everywhere else the family has lived—it’s freezing in the winter, it’s small with nothing to do, and the people talk about Laura Ingalls all the time. Charlotte’s convinced her family will not be able to make a life on the prairie—until the spirit of Laura Ingalls starts getting to her, too.

****

Laura Ingalls Is Ruining My Life, by Shelley Tougas.  

Roaring Brook Press.  

Reviewed by Allie Jane Bruce.

NB - I read, and used page numbers from, a galley of this book.

At the outset of Laura Ingalls Is Ruining My Life, twelve-year-old Charlotte makes it clear that she finds her mom’s obsession with Laura Ingalls irritating. Any time Mom or Rose (Charlotte’s younger sister) reference the Little House books or Laura Ingalls, Charlotte’s reaction is somewhere in the ballpark of “Seriously?” or “Ugh.” On page 8, Charlotte thinks:

Realistically, I was stuck with Laura for a year. I had to deal with her the way you deal with an upset stomach. You wait it out. Eventually you puke and feel better. 

On their move from Lexington, Kentucky to Walnut Grove, Minnesota, Mom decides they must stop and eat at a diner they see, called "Prairie Diner". When Mom starts to engage a waitress on the subject, Charlotte thinks (p. 9): 

I needed to shut this down before Mom launched her crazy spirit-of-Laura explanation. 

It is important to note, however, that Charlotte’s negative reactions have nothing to do with any inkling that the books, or Laura herself, are racist or problematic. Charlotte is irritated because she is a snarky, often pessimistic character, and the idea of Laura’s spirit calling out to Mom’s creative soul rubs her the wrong way.

On page 34, in her new classroom, Charlotte notices (p. 34): 

There were twenty-four students in our new class, including Julia [their landlady’s granddaughter], Freddy [her twin brother], and me. Six were Asian. Julia was the only Hispanic student, as far as I could tell. Everyone else was white. 

I wondered, upon reading this, whether all those White kids were actually White, or whether Charlotte might be misidentifying someone; many people present, or pass for, White but in fact identify as Native, Latinx, or multiracial. I wondered more about this on page 36, as the kids are being given an assignment. Mrs. Newman (her teacher) says:

“You will write about how Laura Ingalls and her story have influenced our community and affected your life. [...] You don’t have to be a fan. I know there are students who haven’t read the books, which saddens me greatly, but if you live here, there’s no getting around Laura’s influence. Even if you haven’t read the books, which truly saddens me, you are aware of how she’s shaped our town, and if you’re not aware, that is heartbreaking.” 

I tried to imagine myself as a Native kid reading this passage, or to take it a step further, as a White-presenting Native kid in Charlotte’s class. How would this talk about not reading the books, and not being aware of how Laura Ingalls shaped their town, as “saddening” and “heartbreaking” land with me? Reading it with this mindset, it made me angry. Native people were subject to genocide and forced relocation because of the invasion of people like Laura Ingalls; but what’s really heartbreaking is if someone hasn’t read or appreciated her books?

Charlotte finds the assignment annoying, but not problematic. She writes an essay titled “Laura Ingalls Is Ruining My Life” and describes how angry she is that her flighty mother moved them to the town of Walnut Grove to chase Laura’s creative energy.

Soon after, Charlotte gets sick and has to stay home from school for several days. Mom reads to her from the Little House books, which Charlotte likes. Charlotte describes how much Ma hates Indians, the first reference thus far to any racism or problematic content in the Little House books (p. 46):

And Ma, who is the sweetest character in the book, hates Indians, and I mean hates hates hates them. Maybe it was because the Ingalls built their cabin on Indian land, and the Indians weren’t too happy about it. In the end, both the Indians and the Ingalls pack up their stuff and move. The Indians are forced to leave their hunting grounds, and the Ingalls end up on the banks of Plum Creek near Walnut Grove, because all Pa wants to do is move. 

Charlotte offers all of this without editorializing or offering her opinion on Ma’s opinions, which I found strange, since Charlotte offers her opinion on everything, especially if she finds it annoying. Are we to conclude that Charlotte doesn’t find Ma’s bigotry annoying? At best, she is dispassionate about it.

On page 52, Charlotte’s mom changes her mind about her writing project. Where she’d previously intended to write an historical fiction about an orphan girl moving to the prairie, she now wants to write about (p. 52)

...twins who sneak aboard this space shuttle that’s going to colonize Mars... Mom says it’s the same story because it’s about exploration and pioneers. So we’re still here for Laura. She still needs Laura’s spirit.

This is interesting, because I’ve seen outer space exploration and aliens used as metaphors for colonialism and invasion before, in books like The Knife of Never Letting Go, Landscape With Invisible Hand, and The True Meaning of Smekday. I have mixed feelings about them. I appreciate the emphasis on interrogating invaders; and, I think it’s problematic to draw a parallel between aliens and Native humans, or to cast Native and non-Native people as equal parties in any story about colonization. I think Mom’s idea for a Mars book, which rests on an analogy in which White pioneers are to humans as Native people are to literal Martians, is deeply problematic. Over the course of Laura Ingalls Is Ruining My Life, Charlotte and others question whether the Mars book is a good idea, but not for the reasons I state above.

Charlotte reads an essay on Manifest Destiny, and soon after that, on the Transcontinental Railroad. About the Manifest Destiny essay, Charlotte thinks (p. 79-80):

The essay, “Manifest Destiny and America’s Expansion,” was long and boring. If you’ve heard people say something is as boring as watching paint dry, well, the Manifest Destiny essay would bore the paint. [...]  The essay went like this: After colonists won independence from England, American leaders thought it was destiny for our country to grow. If ordinary Americans could own land, not just rich people, then they would be committed to making the country strong and the best in the word. So the government bought land around Louisiana from France and fought with Mexico to get even more land. And pretty soon the country stretched “from sea to shining sea,” just like the song “America the Beautiful” said.

Charlotte’s only problem with the essay is that she found it boring.

On page 82, Charlotte discusses the Transcontinental Railroad with Rose (her younger sister) and we get our first inkling that she’s starting to see some of these problems. After describing the hardships in The Long Winter, Rose says (p. 93-94):

“Finally spring came and the trains arrived with supplies. So many pioneers would’ve died without trains bringing stuff from the East. Trains were lifesavers.” 

I flopped on my bed. “Tell that to Chinese workers. Tell that to the buffalo.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“The railroad company hired workers from China and barely paid them and had them do all the dangerous work, like blowing up tunnels. Lots of them died. When the trains were up and running, men would sit in train cars and shoot buffalo for fun. They didn’t even eat the meat. The buffalo just rotted and pretty soon buffalo became almost extinct.”

I like this exchange, although I wonder why we haven’t heard more of Charlotte’s inner thoughts about this--she seems to be reevaluating her initial take on Manifest Destiny.

Next, Charlotte learns about the U.S.-Dakota War (although the book doesn’t call it this). She reads about the “Dakota Sioux Conflict”.  Her teacher says (p. 114-115):

“I want you to start with the Dakota Sioux Conflict because it was essentially a war that happened right here in southwestern Minnesota. The whole thing was overshadowed by the Civil War, so most people know very little about it. You’ll make some connections between it and the Ingalls family.” 

“Like Ma hating Indians?” 

“In a way,” she said. “No doubt she’d heard about Indians killing settlers in southwestern Minnesota, and she was afraid.” 

“It’s not like she could call 9-1-1.” 

“Indians were afraid of the settlers, too. The government broke treaty after treaty. They didn’t give the Indians supplies that were promised, and the Indians were afraid they’d starve that winter.”

Having learned that one outcome of the U.S.-Dakota war was the largest mass execution in U.S. history, I am troubled by this “fair and balanced” account.

A few pages later, Mrs. Newman assigns Charlotte an essay on the Trail of Tears (p. 126):

She handed me an article. I glanced at the title—something about Native Americans and a Trail of Tears. “Here’s one more thing I want you to read. You can take your time, but I do want to discuss it.” 

On page 132, Charlotte and Julia (their landlady’s granddaughter) have a conversation in which they talk about how “perfect” Pa Ingalls was as a dad (conveniently omitting his blackface performance). Julia also says, describing what she wrote about in her award-winning essay on Laura Ingalls (p. 132):

“The Asians here are Hmong, which is like Vietnamese, but not exactly. Tons of them came to Minnesota after the war in Vietnam.” 

“Seems kind of random.” 

“It’s like a new group of settlers came to the prairie.” 

I cringe at several things here--casually describing Hmong people as “like Vietnamese, but not exactly” (how would that land with a Hmong child reading it?), “random” (in the large picture, Hmong people living in Walnut Grove isn’t any more “random” than Charlotte, or any White people, living in Walnut Grove, but this casts them as “other” and somehow different). As for “a new group of settlers came to the prairie” -- to equate Westward invasion and Manifest Destiny with the experiences of immigrants of color living in a White-dominated society is simply inaccurate, and troubling, in that it ignores the power dynamic Hmong people face and erases the fact that White people invaded Native lands (if White people invading the West were “immigrants” the way that Hmong people are immigrants in this context, Native people would have no legitimate grievances).

There’s an argument, of course, that Julia is twelve years old and doesn’t understand these dynamics; I do not, however, get the sense that Tougas recognizes the problems with what Julia says (at least, she does not recognize them in the text) or is presenting this conversation as a teachable moment, as she never counters Julia’s ideas. On the contrary, I get a strong feeling that we as readers are supposed to be learning and taking in what Julia says here.

In this same conversation, one of the more interesting things in the book happens. Julia describes another classmate, Lanie, whose essay was passed over for an award (p. 134):

“She [Lanie] wrote that we should have a museum for Native Americans because they lived around here first, and they had these battles with settlers.  She said the early farmers shouldn't be called settlers because the land was already settled. They were more like invaders.’ Julia leaned forward and whispered, ‘My grandma heard Mrs. Newman liked Lanie's essay because it showed critical thinking, but Gloria and Teresa said no way.  Basically I was the second choice.” 

(Gloria and Teresa run the Laura Ingalls museum, where Julia and Charlotte work after school.)

I would so, so have loved to see this line of thought extended. Proposing the word “invaders” instead of “settlers” is a big deal, and an important conversation. Alas, this language is never revisited; Charlotte and Julia encounter some mean boys, and further solidify their friendship. Charlotte doesn’t comment on the settlers/invaders question, internally or overtly. This scene factors into my conclusion that Laura Ingalls Is Ruining My Life evolves, rather than interrupts, racism. More on that later.

The Trail of Tears essay, which Mrs. Newman assigned to Charlotte on page 126, is next referenced, briefly, on page 169, when Charlotte asks Rose if she’s seen the essay (Rose took it to read it). On page 173, Charlotte and Mrs. Newman have a brief conversation about it; Mrs. Newman brings it up again on page 226. Charlotte still hasn’t read it.

On page 198, police show up at Charlotte’s house with the news that someone vandalized the Ingalls museum (spray painted “I hate Walnut Grove I hate Lara”); they suspect Charlotte. This plotline dominates the rest of the book, and culminates in (spoiler) Rose confessing that she did it.  Some relevant passages I pulled (p. 206-207):

Everyone in Walnut Grove was proud of the town’s history. When they drove by the museum and saw those ugly words, they’d feel angry and sad.

But that didn’t explain my feelings, either. They went even deeper than that. I realized I felt terrible for Laura [...] after living on the lonely Kansas prairie, the Ingalls had found civilization in Walnut Grove. They had a real school, a nice church, and good neighbors. [...] 

“Mom, I think I’m feeling Laura’s energy—for real. She’s sad about what happened to the museum. [...] Whoever did it couldn’t even spell her name. They’re stupid and mean.’” 

I paused at this. Are spray painted words on the side of the Ingalls museum uglier than the existence of a museum glorifying participants in Manifest Destiny?

I had similar thoughts regarding this exchange between Charlotte and Mrs. Newman (p. 225-226):

“I know I wrote a negative essay, but I was mad when I wrote it. I’ve spent a couple months in Laura’s world. I like her. [...] Maybe the person who did it doesn’t even hate Laura Ingalls. Maybe they just wanted to destroy something that makes other people happy.” 

“Unfortunately, there are people like that in the world.” 

Then, there’s this conversation between Charlotte and her mom (p. 207-208):

“There’s something about our country and the West,” she said in a dreamy voice. “It’s romantic. [...] we have this sense of pride in conquering the Wild West.”

“When they built the railroad, men would ride the trains with shotguns and kill buffalo just because it was fun, like an old-fashioned version of a video game.” 

“That’s terrible,” Mom said.

“Westward expansion stunk if you were Native American.”

“I know.”

This is never followed up on. Mom never accounts for why, if she knew all along that Westward Invasion "stunk" for Native people, she felt comfortable talking in a "dreamy" voice about the "romance" and "pride" of "conquering" the "Wild West". I conclude from this that Mom values Native lives less than she values the romantic story she tells herself about American history. I wondered if Tougas ever considered having Charlotte ask something like, "Well, if you knew, why did you say what you just said?" and I wonder what Mom would reply. "Because I weighed the injustice of the atrocity of Westward Invasion against the mental discomfort it would cause me to let go of my romantic vision of history and decided to prioritize my gooey feelings," perhaps? Or maybe a simple, "Because I know, but I just don't care that much about Native people." 

On page 275-278, Rose comes clean and admits to vandalizing the Ingalls museum. Her speech is the closest the book comes to actually interrogating racism, and I’m sure will be referenced by many as evidence that Laura Ingalls Is Ruining My Life is, in fact, anti-racist. Mom puts lavender oil in a diffuser to help them relax and stay focused on why she did it. Here’s what Rose says (275-278):

“I read Charlotte’s school assignment about the Trail of Tears. The article was about how settling the West destroyed the Indians. They literally had to walk hundreds of miles so the pioneers could have their own land. And they got sick and there wasn’t enough food and the weather was terrible, but the government didn’t care and the pioneers didn’t care. The Indians had to keep marching, and tons of them died. Tons!”

At that point, Mom dabbed the oil behind her ears.

Rose said, “We have museums all over the United States bragging about how great we are because we built a new country. We have books and movies and songs. But our stories are wrong.” Her shoulders slumped. “Can I try some of that oil?”

I put a drop on my finger and rubbed it on Rose’s wrist. Freddy said, “I know what you mean, but I’m glad we’re here. I’m glad there are fifty states and roads and the Internet and that I get to live in this country.”

“If you’re glad, then you don’t know what I mean,” Rose said.

[...]

“So you decided to spray-paint Laura’s building because the government was terrible to the Indians?” Freddy said. “Am I the only one who thinks that’s ridiculous?”

“No. I think it’s ridiculous,” I said.

“Let her finish,” Mom said. “Go on, Rose.”

Rose frowned. “Here’s something I bet you didn’t know. In the first version of Little House On the Prairie, which came out almost one hundred years ago, Laura described the prairie like this: ‘There the wild animals wandered and fed as though they were in a pasture that stretched much farther than a man could see, and there were no people. Only Indians lived there.’ I memorized it.”

Freddy thought for a minute. “So? What’s your point?”

“She said no people. Only Indians. She basically said Indians aren’t people.”

Slowly Freddy’s face registered her point. Mom said, “I don’t remember that. I’ve read that book a dozen times.”

“Someone wrote to the publisher, and they changed the word people to settlers for the next printing. Laura felt terrible above it. She didn’t mean it the way it came out. Still, it bugs me. I can’t stop thinking about it. That’s why I quit reading the biography.”

“I had no idea,” Mom said. “How did I not know this?”

“That’s the way people were back then,” Freddy said. “It’s not right to blame people now for what happened one hundred years ago. Laura Ingalls didn’t force the Indians to move. The museum ladies didn’t force them to move, either. Do you want us to demolish all our cities and make it buffalo land again?”

“That’s not the point!” Rose yelled. “You got me all side-tracked.”

I love what Rose says. Of all the characters in the book, she’s the one who interests me most, because what she learns about Manifest Destiny, the Transcontinental Railroad, and the Trail of Tears is real for her. She has, at this point, learned that a societal sickness leads to dehumanizing Native people, and to a museum celebrating Manifest Destiny--and upon learning this, she actively changes.  Early in the book, Rose is downright tickled to be living in Walnut Grove, and wants to be Laura in the annual town play (p. 94). Upon learning that her prior version of reality is wrong, Rose changes her mindset and her behavior. Is she right to spray paint the museum? Of course not, but that act of vandalism is trivial compared to the larger systemic and cultural problems with which she is grappling.

Unfortunately, Charlotte’s reactions, and the ultimate note on which the book finishes, undo much of the good work Rose does in these few pages (and make me wonder if it’s possible for an author to write a character--Rose, in this case--who understands the world better than the author does).

On page 288, Charlotte and Mrs. Newman again discuss the Trail of Tears article, which, again, was introduced on page 126. Charlotte still hasn’t read it, but lies and says she did. Mrs. Newman isn’t fooled, and they talk about why Charlotte hasn’t read it (p. 288-289):

“Did you read the article about Native Americans?”

“The Trail of Tears article?” My eyes went wide, and I stumbled through an answer, trying to remember what Rose had said about it. “Yes. It was interesting and fascinating. And very sad, too, which is why the word tears is in it. Because it’s so sad.”

[...]

“Why? Why haven’t you read it?”

I shrugged.

[...]

“I don’t need to read it to know it’s really, really bad. I’ve read enough about westward expansion.”

“Reading and understanding are two different things.”

“I know terrible things happened to Native Americans. And terrible things happened to the Chinese with the railroad and poor white farmers in the Depression and all the people fighting over who owned Texas. I’m twelve. I can only take so much sad stuff and guilt before I get Prairie Madness.” Mrs. Newman didn’t respond, so I said, “I will read it. I promise. But not for a while.”

Mrs. Newman thought for a moment. “You have the intellectual capacity to think critically about history. I didn’t consider how overwhelming it might be.”

“I don’t want to hate Laura Ingalls or pioneers or America.”

“That’s absolutely not my intention. It’s just that our country’s story is more complicated than most people realize. Laura’s story is more complicated.”

My heart sank when I read this.  My hopes were up so high, after Rose’s awakening, and then… sigh.

The effect of this passage--especially after Rose’s speech--is to recenter and re-prioritize Whiteness at the expense of Native people.

Let’s unpack. Charlotte says the Trail of Tears is “sad… which is why the word tears is in it.”  It’s supposed to be funny, a moment of lightness and humor. Four thousand people died on the Trail of Tears. Charlotte, and Tougas, trivialize their deaths in this passage. And, ultimately, Charlotte makes an active and conscious decision to prioritize her own comfort over all else. Children younger than Charlotte died because of the 1830 Indian Removal Act (Trail of Tears); Charlotte decides she can’t even read about that, and Mrs. Newman comforts and her affirms her fragility in this moment.

Read this again from the point of view of a Cherokee, Choctaw, Seminole, Creek, or Chickasaw child who has heard about the Trail of Tears since infancy. That child does not have the luxury of waiting until they’re older to understand the concept of genocide. How would Charlotte’s joke about the Trail of Tears, and her decision to wait to read the article until she can handle it better, land with that child? What about Charlotte’s, and Mrs. Newman’s, declaration that they don’t want to hate Laura Ingalls or the government forces that destroyed Native lives--how would a Native child, who feels rightful and understandable rage, feel upon reading those words? I’d feel minimized, gaslit, like my and my people’s concerns had been erased--for the billionth time.

What makes this so infuriating is that it comes on the heels of Rose’s speech about the injustices of westward invasion. It’s like Tougas dangles a book, a world, in which White people are forced to reckon with the ugliness of Manifest Destiny and all that came along with it--and then snatches it away, says “Nope, sorry, Native kids, we have to comfort and prioritize the status quo at your expense.  Again.”

Another example of Tougas’ dangling, then snatching away, genuine equity for Native people is in her treatment of Gloria and Teresa, who run the Ingalls museum. Remember that Gloria and Teresa rejected an essay that argued for justice for Native people (p. 134) Julia tells Charlotte:

“She [Lanie] wrote that we should have a museum for Native Americans because they lived around here first, and they had these battles with settlers.  She said the early farmers shouldn't be called settlers because the land was already settled. They were more like invaders." Julia leaned forward and whispered, "My grandma heard Mrs. Newman liked Lanie's essay because it showed critical thinking, but Gloria and Teresa said no way. Basically I was the second choice.” 

I was sure, when I read this, that at some point Charlotte (or Rose) would hold Gloria and Teresa accountable; that they would have to take a hard look at what it meant to shut down, refuse to hear, a truth-telling essay, and what messages they sent to Native kids when they refused to give a platform to a voice advocating for a Native museum. This never happens. In fact, later in the book Charlotte thinks well of Gloria and Teresa as support for her (p. 149):

Actually, the people who'd been my cheerleaders lately weren't my family.  Mrs. Newman. Gloria. Teresa...” 

Gloria and Teresa also serve to further the Charlotte-as-suspect plotline; thanks to a misunderstanding, Charlotte yells at them, which lends credence to the theory that she was the vandal. Towards the end of the book, Charlotte realizes she needs to apologize to them.

At the end of the day, Laura Ingalls Is Ruining My Life gives lip service to anti-racist and anti-colonialist advocates. Their arguments and voices are given minimal space in the book; Rose’s speech is great, but it’s three pages in a 296-page book. The book prioritizes White comfort and White fragility over justice and equity for Native people (who are never actually given a voice--no tribe is named, no Native individuals are referenced or quoted, and oh, how great would it have been for Charlotte and co. to delve deep into The Birchbark House series?). Characters like Gloria and Teresa who enact and perpetuate White supremacy are not held accountable, but are framed as overwhelmingly sympathetic--nice White ladies. And ultimately, according to Laura Ingalls Is Ruining My Life, while it’s important for everyone to understand the complexity of history, it’s equally important for White kids to wait until they feel up to the task of learning about other people’s trauma, and to not hate Laura Ingalls or her people. Indeed, the Author’s Note leads me to believe that Tougas is an unapologetic Ingalls fan--she recommends three biographies of Laura Ingalls Wilder, and alas, no books authored by Native people.

While reading Laura Ingalls Is Ruining My Life, and especially at the end, I thought over and over of this quote from The Lines We Cross by Randa Abdel-Fattah. This line is spoken by Mina, who came to Australia as an Afghan refugee, to Michael, a White character learning about his racial privilege (p. 219):

“You want me to make it easier for you to confront your privilege because God knows even antiracism has to be done in a way that makes the majority comfortable? Sorry... I don’t have time to babysit you through your enlightenment.”

Charlotte’s choice to read the essay or not--to include knowledge of the Trail of Tears in her consciousness, or wait until she’s ready to handle it--that choice is the essence of White privilege.

We White people are getting better at making a show of anti-racism. Our methods are becoming more sophisticated. We acknowledge the anti-racist argument, provide it lip service and limited space, before snatching back control of the narrative and recentering our own comfort. Read Laura Ingalls Is Ruining My Life as the next step, the next generation, the next wave of racism. Watch closely, especially if you’re White; racism is evolving before our very eyes.

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

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

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



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

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

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

Here's the synopsis:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, there's this page:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Update, March 22 2017, 1:45 PM

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

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

Update, March 22 2017, 3:30 PM

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

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

Update, March 23, 2017

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

Update, March 25, 2017

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

Can Kiera Drake's THE CONTINENT be revised?

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

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

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

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

My answer: no.  

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

Let's start with the synopsis:

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter One

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Two

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Three

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Four

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Five

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Six

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

Chapter Seven

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

Chapter Eight

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

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

Chapter Nine

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Ten

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Eleven

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

Chapter Twelve

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

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

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

Chapter Thirteen

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

Chapter Fourteen

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

Chapter Fifteen

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Sixteen

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

Chapter Seventeen

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

Chapter Eighteen

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

Chapter Nineteen

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

Chapter Twenty

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

Chapter Twenty-One

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

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

Chapter Twenty-Two

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

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

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

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

Chapter Twenty-Three

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Twenty-Four

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

Chapter Twenty-Five

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

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

Chapter Twenty-Six

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

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Vaela arrives at her home at the Spire.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

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

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

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

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

Chapter Twenty-Nine

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

Chapter Thirty

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

Chapter Thirty-One

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

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

Chapter Thirty-Two

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

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

Chapter Thirty-Three

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

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

They all laugh.

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

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

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

Chapter Thirty-Four

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

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

Chapter Thirty-Five

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

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

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

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

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

The story ends. 

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

----

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

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

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

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

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

The assumption is that the book can be revised.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

See:

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

______

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

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