Lane Smith's new picture book: There Is a TRIBE of KIDS (plus a response to Rosanne Parry)

Eds note, 2/17/17: Scroll down to see curated list of links to articles about Smith's book. 

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I love word play. Lane Smith's book is getting a lot of love for its word play, but I'm tagging his book as Not Recommended. It is a 2016 book, published by Roaring Book Press/Macmillan.

Here's the cover of his new book, There Is a Tribe of Kids. The blue creature to the left is meant to be a young mountain goat, or, a kid (that is the term for a baby goat). We follow the child on the right as we read There Is a TRIBE of KIDS. That child is a kid, too, of course, which tells us that Smith is doing some word play in the book. See the two sticks coming out of the child's head? See the stance the child is in? That child is playing at being a goat kid.

Note that two words in the book title are in capital letters. They go together. That's a pattern that Smith uses throughout the book, and as a former elementary school teacher, it is kind of detail that I'd love to point out to kids.

BUT.

Smith's error is using the word TRIBE on the final pages of the book, to refer to children who are playing, adorned in various ways with leaves. I'm getting ahead of myself, though. Let's go back to the opening pages.

On the title page the child is with three kids (goats) as an adult goat looks down on them from atop a rock. On the next page, the three kids climb the rock, leaving the child alone. The child stands upright and walks away from the rock, discarding the horns.

Beneath that illustration are the words "There WAS a TRIBE of KIDS." The three kids the child was with are part of a tribe (tribe is another word for herd), but since they've left him behind, Smith uses the past tense (was).

Beneath that sentence is an illustration of the child looking across the page at a penguin. The child is shown in the same pose the penguin is in. On the next page the child is shown in the same pose as four penguins (see the illustration to the right). As we saw with the goats, the penguins leave (they go into the water and the child follows), and the text is "There was a COLONY of PENGUINS."

In the water, the child is in the midst of jellyfish. In a series of illustrations, we see the child's leaf shirt float up and then into a balloon shape, which are the shapes of jellyfish as they swim.

That's the pattern of the book. The child is with a group of some kind, and while with that group, the child's leaf clothing or body positioning emulates that group.

On some pages, the child is just shown with the group. On one page, the child sits atop a whale. A raven picks the child up off the whale's back and flies with other ravens; the raven opens its beak and for an instant the child is flying but then drops to the ground and lands on a pile of boulders. The child plays on the boulders (holding his body like one), falls headfirst into some flowering plants, and when the child is upright again, the child has leaf arms and leaf ears and a flower atop its head. The child finds elephants and then, those leaf ears are like elephant ears.

As we get to the end of the story, the child is near the ocean, which has a bed of clams. The child uses one as a bed. In the morning the child wakes, alone, abandons the leaf shirt and follows a trail of shells and finds "a TRIBE of KIDS" playing beneath and on the branches of a massive tree. There are 28 children. What are they playing? They've all got leaves on, in some way.

Here are the ones with a leaf/leaves on their heads. Coupled with the word TRIBE on that page, it looks to me like they're dressed up to play Indian. Remember the pattern of the book. The child we followed from one page to the next was (mostly) shown doing something to emulate something else.

But, writer Rosanne Parry disagrees with Sam, and with me, too, but she didn't reference me at her post, A Tribe of Book Reviewers.  My guess is that she thinks her blog post title is clever. It isn't. She thinks that Sam Bloom (see his review at Reading While White) should have

"been willing to look a little deeper, beyond just the immediate Oh no! we are insulting Native Americans again, as we have done so often in the past."

When I read that line in italics, I was incensed. She's being quite dismissive of criticism of stereotyping, bias, appropriation---all those things that white writers, including her, have done. A few years ago, I reviewed Parry's Written In Stone. There's a lot wrong with that book. She wrote to me privately to talk about my review, but I preferred the conversation to be public so that others could follow and learn from it. Many did. Parry did not. Indeed, Parry's resistance was remarkable. She was so sure that she was right to make up traditional Native stories, and right to make up petroglyphs and assign them meaning, and right to write that story because the Native kids she taught--she told us--wanted her to write a story about them. Sheesh! White savior to the rescue!

Parry had a lot more to say about Smith's There Is a Tribe of Kids...

She acknowledged that tribe is a loaded word, but says that she:

"didn't immediately make the leap to Native American tribes because there are no tribes in North America who dress in garments made of leaves. Plant fibers woven into cloth, yes. Dance costumes made of pale yellow grasses, yes. But broad-leafed green plans arranged around the body as a short cloak? No."

Are you rolling your eyes? Are you flipping out at her use of "costumes"? You should be. She likes to talk about the Native kids she taught in Washington. Does she think they wore costumes?! There's more. She read through the book and

"didn't see a single reference, even an oblique one, to a Native American tribe or any tribal activity of North America. No hunting, no fishing, no fires, no tomahawks, no archery, no totem poles, no teepees, no drums, no horses, no canoes."

Again: are you rolling your eyes? Or, maybe, grinding your teeth? Or laughing at how stupid this all sounds? Or---are you reading it and thinking she's making good points? All those reactions are possible, given the widespread ignorance out there about Native people! Some get it, while others are oblivious. Parry goes on, telling us the way the kids are playing is more like the Green Man,

"an ancient mythological figure associated with the Celtic tribes." 

Oh! The kids are playing Green Man. Not Indian! (I'm being sarcastic). Parry isn't done yet, though... She tells us that the children playing on those final pages are of different colored skin tones, making the book:

"one of the most racially inclusive books on our bookstore shelves this year. Not only that, it's a racially inclusive book that isn't about slavery or civil rights or westward expansion, which often cast Black and Native American characters as victims."

Oh, yay (again, I'm being sarcastic). Then she tells us that the kids are:

"arranging shells, playing ball, swinging, sliding, climbing, dancing, running, hiding, napping" 

and that none of those actions are

"a mockery of Native Americans. If they were wearing fringed buckskins or button blankets or powwow dance costumes or had painted faces or were brandishing bows and arrows, that would be an entirely different story."

Oh. I see. (More sarcasm from me; I can't not be sarcastic about her words, and this is the fourth or fifth time I'm reading them!) There's that use of costume again. From a white woman who professes love for the Native kids she taught. She tells us that what she sees in Smith's illustrations are depictions of how kids play, and asks

"Who are we to shame them by saying this is playing Indian?"

Shame. That word is getting used a lot in children's literature discussions last year and this one, too. Us Native and people of color are being mean, shaming writers and now--Parry tells us--the way that kids play.

Sigh. Yes, some of the kids are sliding. And some are playing ball, etc. But look at the illustrations I shared above. What are we to make of them? They're not active in any way. They're just there, wearing their leaf feathers, holding staffs, standing, sitting, jewelry dangling from neck/wrist/ears... What about them?

Parry offers workshops on how to get things right. If you're a writer, avoid her. I wish I could say she's clueless, but I think she is being deliberately obtuse. She'll lead you to think your problematic story of appropriation is ok. It won't be.

I acknowledge that I'm clearly incensed with her and I anticipate lot of people coming to her defense. Parry and others (as Sam Bloom noted, There Is a Tribe of Kids is getting starred reviews) don't see--and refuse to see--the problems in the book. That's where we are in 2016.

Update, Friday July 15, 2016

See my first post on Smith's book: Reading While White reviews Lane Smith's There Is a Tribe of Kids

Part of the contentious discussion is that tribe doesn't mean Native peoples. That is, of course, true. However, in the U.S., that's what the word generally invokes. Some evidence: In preparing this review, I did a search of children's books at Amazon and at Barnes and Noble, using "tribe" as the search term. The results make it clear that the word is coupled with Native peoples. I didn't include discussion of the word in this review but will discuss it in another post.

Update, Friday, Feb 17, 2017

From time to time I curate a set of links about a particular book or discussion. I'm doing that below, for There Is a Tribe of Kids. The links are arranged chronologically by date on which they were posted/published. If you know of ones I ought to add, please let me know. I will insert it below (as you'll see, I'm noting the date on which I add it to the list in parenthesis).

Sam Bloom's Reviewing While White: There Is a Tribe of Kids posted on July 8, 2016 (added to this list on July 21, 2016).

Debbie Reese's Reading While White reviews Lane Smith's THERE IS A TRIBE OF KIDS posted on July 9, 2016 (added to this list on July 21, 2016).

Debbie Reese's Lane Smith's new picture book: THERE IS A TRIBE OF KIDS (plus a response to Rosanne Parry) posted on July 14, 2016 (added to this list on July 21, 2016).

Roxanne Feldman's A Tribe of Kindred Souls: A Closer Look at a Double Spread in Lane Smith's THERE IS A TRIBE OF KIDS posted on July 17, 2016 (added to this list on July 21, 2016).

Roger Sutton's Tribal Trials posted on July 18, 2016 (added to this list on July 21, 2016).

Elizabeth Bird's There Is a Tribe of Kids: The Current Debate posted on July 19, 2016 (added to this list on July 21, 2016).

Does Lane Smith's RETURN TO AUGIE HOBBLE tell us anything about his THERE IS A TRIBE OF KIDS?

A reader who was following the conversations about Lane Smith's There Is A Tribe of Kids wrote to ask me if I'd read his Return to Augie Hobble. Here's the synopsis:

Augie Hobble lives in a fairy tale―or at least Fairy Tale Place, the down-on-its-luck amusement park managed by his father. Yet his life is turning into a nightmare: he's failed creative arts and has to take summer school, the girl he has a crush on won't acknowledge him, and Hogg Wills and the school bullies won't leave him alone. Worse, a succession of mysterious, possibly paranormal, events have him convinced that he's turning into a werewolf. At least Augie has his notebook and his best friend Britt to confide in―until the unthinkable happens and Augie's life is turned upside down, and those mysterious, possibly paranormal, events take on a different meaning.

The synopsis doesn't say, but as I started reading about the book, I learned that it is set in New Mexico, which could (for me) be a plus. It could be a plus for kids in New Mexico, too, including Native kids.

But, the person who wrote to me told me that Return to Augie Hobble has some Native content in it, so I started reading the book itself, wondering what I'd find.

Scattered throughout are illustrations of one kind of another, all done by Smith. In chapter four, the main character, Augie, is out after dark in the woods nearby and has a fight with a wolf-like creature. The next morning Augie feels like his face has tiny splinters on it. He uses his moms razor to shave them off. As the illustration on the next page tells us, he's got bits of toilet paper on his chin and neck because he's nicked himself with that razor.

Augie gets to work early, so is sitting in the break area reading a comic, waiting for his shift to start. Moze, another employee arrives. Augie gets up, but (p. 68-69):

He [Moze] pushes me back down. He calls me an Indian. I ask why and he says cause my face is under "Heap big TP." I say that doesn't even make sense so he hits me in the arm and says, "Teeeee Peeeeeee. Toilet paper, twerp." He goes, "Woo, woo, woo," and does a lame version of an Indian dance with an imaginary tomahawk. I say that's not very PC. He says "PC, Mac, who cares?" and hits me again. 

Interesting, isn't it? Let's look at that passage, in light of the discussions of his There Is a Tribe of Kids. The discussions are about some of the illustrations in the final pages of the book. Here's three:

Some wonder if Smith meant to depict kids playing Indian. Some say these kids aren't playing Indian. Smith hasn't responded (as far as I know) to any of the discussions. Some wonder if--as he drew the illustrations--he was aware that they could be interpreted as kids playing Indian. That wondering presumes that he is aware of the decades long critical writings of stereotyping, and in this case, stereotyping of Native peoples.

With Return to Augie Hobble, we know--without a doubt--that he does, in fact, know about issues of stereotyping.

How should we interpret that passage in Return to Augie Hobble?

Amongst the recent threads in writers' networks, is that if a writer is going to create a character who stereotypes someone, there ought to be some way (preferably immediately) for a reader to discern that it is a stereotype. One method is to have a bad-guy-character make the stereotypical remarks, because with them being delivered by a bad-guy, readers know they're not-good-remarks.

Does Smith do that successfully? I'll copy that passage here, for convenience (so you don't have to scroll back up):

He pushes me back down. He calls me an Indian. I ask why and he says cause my face is under "Heap big TP." I say that doesn't even make sense so he hits me in the arm and says, "Teeeee Peeeeeee. Toilet paper, twerp." He goes, "Woo, woo, woo," and does a lame version of an Indian dance with an imaginary tomahawk. I say that's not very PC. He says "PC, Mac, who cares?" and hits me again. 

In the passage above, it is Moze (a bad guy character) who is speaking. From "hits me again" the narrative leaves this whole Indian thing behind as they talk about other things.

I find the passage confusing. It feels like there's something missing between "Toilet paper, twerp." and "He goes, "woo, woo, woo," and does a lame version of an Indian dance with an imaginary tomahawk." What do you think? Is something missing there?

Confusion aside, I think the passage doesn't do what, I assume, Smith meant it to do. Moze is delivering remarks in that humorous style Smith is praised for using.  Will kids pick up on his message (assuming he meant to use Moze to teach kids that dancing around that way is not ok)? Or, does his "PC, Mac" get in the way of that understanding? With "PC, Mac" the focus is on computers, not stereotypes. That kind of word play is a big reason people like Smith's writing.

Back when I taught children's literature at the University of Illinois, I selected Smith's The True Story of the Three Little Pigs as a required reading (Smith is the illustrator; the text is by Jon Scieszka). It is a terrific way to teach kids about differing points of view. When I think about that book, I know that Smith understands different points of view and how they matter.

I think it fair to say Lane Smith is a master at conveying the importance of that all important point of view. As his Augie Hobble tells us, he's aware of problems with the ways that Native peoples are depicted. That is part of why I find his There Is a Tribe of Kids disappointing.

What are your thoughts? Knowing he is aware of issues of stereotyping, what do you make of what he did in There Is a Tribe of Kids? And, does what he did in Augie Hobble work?

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From time to time I curate a set of links about a particular book or discussion. I'm doing that below, for There Is a Tribe of Kids. The links are arranged chronologically by date on which they were posted/published. If you know of ones I ought to add, please let me know. I will insert it below (as you'll see, I'm noting the date on which I add it to the list in parenthesis).

Sam Bloom's Reviewing While White: There Is a Tribe of Kids posted on July 8, 2016 (added to this list on July 21, 2016).

Debbie Reese's Reading While White reviews Lane Smith's THERE IS A TRIBE OF KIDS posted on July 9, 2016 (added to this list on July 21, 2016).

Debbie Reese's Lane Smith's new picture book: THERE IS A TRIBE OF KIDS (plus a response to Rosanne Parry) posted on July 14, 2016 (added to this list on July 21, 2016).

Roxanne Feldman's A Tribe of Kindred Souls: A Closer Look at a Double Spread in Lane Smith's THERE IS A TRIBE OF KIDS posted on July 17, 2016 (added to this list on July 21, 2016).

Roger Sutton's Tribal Trials posted on July 18, 2016 (added to this list on July 21, 2016).

Elizabeth Bird's There Is a Tribe of Kids: The Current Debate posted on July 19, 2016 (added to this list on July 21, 2016).

Reading While White review's Lane Smith's THERE IS A TRIBE OF KIDS

Several months ago I saw the cover of Lane Smith's There Is a Tribe of Kids and wondered about his use of the word tribe. Most people see the word "tribe" and think of a group of people who they view as primitive, or exotic, or primal, or... you get the picture, right? If not, open another browser window and do an image search of the word tribe. Did you do it? If yes, you saw a lot of photographs of people of color and of Native peoples, too.

In the last few weeks, I got an email from someone asking me if I'd written about that word. The person writing didn't mention Smith's There Is a Tribe of Kids but may have been asking themselves the same question Sam Bloom did when he read the book. I haven't yet had a chance to look for Smith's book.

Yesterday, Sam's review of There Is a Tribe of Kids went up at Reading While White. I highly recommend you head over there and see what he has to say. On one page of the book, the kids are shown playing in a forest... and they've got leaves stuck into their hair in ways that suggest they're playing Indian. Here's that page:

Sam isn't the only one to notice that problem. He pointed to the review in the New York Times Book Review, where the reviewer wrote that this kind of play signifies wildness.

And, Sam notes that the book has gotten several starred reviews from the major children's literature review journals--journals that librarians use to purchase books. Those starred reviews will mean it is likely to be in your local library. That image, however, means There Is a Tribe of Kids is going into AICL's Foul Among the Good gallery.

Do read Sam's review, and the comment thread, too. I am especially taken with Pat's comment. She used a phrase (I'll put it in bold font) that appeals to me: "An informed reading means giving up the position of innocence that White readers enjoy when other cultures' are represented in service of an engaging story."

Sam's post and the comment thread give us a peek at what goes on behind the scenes in book reviewing. In his review, Sam wondered if the book is getting starred reviews because people like Lane Smith's work overall. Roger Sutton replied that Horn Book didn't give it a starred review, but that their discussion of the book itself included the playing Indian part that Sam's review is about, but that "the reviewer and the editors differed" with Sam's assessment, so, Horn Book recommended the book.

Roger and I have disagreed on playing Indian over and over again. Horn Book gives that activity a pass because Horn Book views it as an "extra literary" concern. Intrigued? You can read one of the more recent discussions we had: Are we doing it white?

Pat's comment is perfect. Far too many people don't want to give up their position of innocence. Playing Indian is just too much fun (they say) and it isn't racist (they insist), or inappropriate (they argue)... Indeed, some say that sort of thing honors Native peoples.

It doesn't honor anyone. It is inappropriate.

My guess is that Lane Smith didn't know it is a problem. His editor, Simon Boughton, apparently didn't know, either. If you know Smith or Boughton, I hope you ask them to think critically about playing Indian. There Is a Tribe of Kids, published by Macmillan, came out in May of 2016.

Some thoughts on the use of the word "tribe" by teachers and schools...

Eds. note on Sunday, Sept 9, 2018: Many people responded to the thread I started on Sept. 7. Several asked if I knew about the Tribes Learning Community program. That question prompted me to add to the thread. I am adding the additional tweets as an update at the bottom of the post, along with a summary of some of the responses.

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"Some thoughts on the use of the word "tribe" by teachers and schools..."
September 7, 2018

Below is a thread I did on Twitter this morning. I used the spool app to compile the individual tweets so I could paste them here.

A conversation is taking place on Twitter, where some teachers are asking other teachers not to use "tribe" to describe their classrooms of students. 

Some people are trying to push back on those asking that it not be done. They are pointing to dictionary definitions of the word (tribe) to say that it does not mean only Native people--that it has roots elsewhere. 

That's true. The word 'tribe' is not an Indigenous word. It is used to describe many other nations/peoples around the world. But--we are talking about the US. Here, that is precisely what it evokes. 

And one need only do some google image searching to see that teachers are definitely using their ideas of Indigenous people to create classroom materials for their "tribe" of kids. (I did the red x overlay to indicate NOPE.)

Here's another one (and again, I added the red x):

And here's another! I could do this all day long. If you are a teacher, please reconsider. This is a new-ish fad, but like many fads, it is harmful. Don't do it!

I took a look at the site "Teachers Pay Teachers" and found many similar problematic ideas there. "Create a tribe" is one. It is like the too-many "what is your Indian name" activities that are everywhere. They draw on stereotypes. 

When you do these kinds of activities, teachers, you are introducing and/or affirming stereotypes. Remember! You're a teacher and you have a responsibility to educate children. Stereotypes do not educate! They misinform! 

Librarians: when you do these kinds of activities in your libraries, you are also misinforming children. 

Writers/illustrators: when you use stereotypes in your books for kids, you contribute to this problem. Case in point: Lane Smith's picture book, THERE IS A TRIBE OF KIDS, and kids in it shown like this: (…ansinchildrensliterature.blogspot.com/2016/07/lane-s…)

Bottom line: there's too many ways this can--will--and DOES go wrong in a society that knows so very little about Indigenous people and our nations. I recommend you step away from using "tribe" to describe your classrooms.

Update on September 9, 2018:

Picking up on my thread yesterday about teachers using "tribe" to refer to their classrooms.... Several people have written to ask me about the pre-packaged "Tribes Learning Community" and its use of "tribes". 

I gather it was created in the 1970s by Jeanne Gibbs and that its goal is to create classrooms where there was an emphasis on positive environments in the school and classroom. As the project was being developed, someone said "We feel like a family... we feel like a tribe."

Gibbs and all those involved in the development and implementation of this "Tribes Learning Community" meant well. But I wonder--given the length of time it has been in use--if any of the teachers using it had a Native child in the classroom? 

If one of my daughter's teachers had been using it, I would have had a meeting with the teacher. I support efforts to foster a positive environment (I was a classroom teacher, too), but there's no need to use "tribe" to do it. 

When I started this thread yesterday, I shared a few images of how "Tribes" materials look. A lot of those materials reference the Tribes Learning Community. Gibbs and her team are probably not monitoring the kinds of materials teachers use when they adopt Gibbs's program. 

But Gibbs and her team -- however -- are aware that some question its use. One of their trainers is Ron Patrick. On her website, Gibbs has a letter written by him, defending the use of the word. 

Correction: it isn't a letter. It is a statement 'Why the Name "Tribes"'. In it he says his tribe is Eastern Band of Cherokee. In his signature line, he used a phrase I associate with Navajo people (May you walk in Beauty). That's a bit odd, to me. 

Also on Gibbs's website is a pdf "What Tribes Are and How They Work" that opens with this:

"A Native American teacher, Paula Swift Robin, is talking with four other teachers at a conference in eastern Washington."

Let's look at that sentence, critically. 

Why did TLC start with that particular person? With that particular name? I think they are using that person and her identity to protect them from being questioned. 

Now let's look at how they described her, as a "Native American." Is Paula Swift Robin a real person? If so, what is her nation? Does Gibbs know that Native people prefer to be identified by their specific nation? 

Gibbs writes that the Tribes Learning Community is used in Native schools. There's a comment from a person in one, in Ontario, but I don't think she is Native. If you are Native and it is used in your child's school, what have you seen? 

Given that the Tribes Learning Community emphasizes listening and positive classroom environments, I wonder if there's anything in any of their books about stereotyping of Native people? Do they help teachers with any of that? 

I can see parts of REACHING ALL BY CREATING TRIBES LEARNING COMMUNITIES online. It has a "Matrix for Achieving Equity in Classrooms." Columns include linguistic bias, stereotyping, invisibility/exclusion. But

... there's a reference to having a "council meeting" where students can make presentations. A council meeting? Hmm...

On page 140 of the book is a:

"Step by Step Process for Group Problem Solving. 1) Ask the tribes to discuss how they feel about people spraying paint on the wall of the school." 

The "tribes" discuss & then "tribe by tribe" they vote on a solution. 

Are there more than one tribe in any given classroom? Or is this example one where all the 3rd grade classrooms (for example) are participating? How does the person managing all of this designate a particular "tribe"? Is it by teacher name? 

If you have the book, can you share (in a reply, here) how tribes are delineated?

Summary of responses:

One parent said that her child's classroom has a "tribes agreement" and asks if it is part of the Learning Communities program. It is a key component. She also says that arrows, dreamcatchers, and teepees are everywhere. She plans to speak to the principle and is optimistic. 

Many people asked about other words they could use. Others responded, suggesting team, squad, house, and family. In daughter's middle school they used "pathfinders" and "navigators" which I liked ok because they're about action and don't default to imagery that has problematic stereotyping associated with them. 

A parallel conversation evolved about the use of "spirit animal." I've written about that before: What is wrong with Buzzfeed's WHAT IS YOUR SPIRIT ANIMAL and Neal Shusterman's UNWIND dystology. 

Some raised questions over other problematic phrases. I've been working on a list of them, here: Common phrases. 

Some are working hard to understand why it is a problem. They see or use the word to describe their (or a friend's) classroom. I appreciate that they're trying to understand. They strike me as receptive to critical thinking. Others are resistant. They assert that they (or their children) are "part Native American" and think that carries weight. A claim to being "part Native American" is used as a defense of mascots, too. These are well-meaning but ignorant and ultimately, harmful to education. 

Neal Shusterman's UNWHOLLY and UNSOULED

On September 25, 2014, I uploaded my review of Shusterman's short story, UnStrung. It is part of his UnWind Dystology, set in the future, after a civil war.

In UnStrung (published in 2012), most of the action takes place on an unnamed "Hi Rez" reservation. "ChanceFolk" live there. They are rich, as opposed to "Low Rez" tribes that didn't spend/invest their money well. We learn that Indigenous peoples are called ChanceFolk instead of Indians and that some people call them SlotMongers (yes, that is seen as a slur).

The civil war was fought over abortion. The outcome was that abortion was replaced by "unwinding" -- a process by which parents can, at age 13, send their unwanted kids away to be unwound. That means that 99.44 percent of their body parts will be used as transplants. They will, of course, cease to exist, but somehow, they are said to be alive in a "divided state" due to that transplanting of their body parts. In addition to unwanted 13-year-olds being unwound, some couples choose to conceive and birth a child that is a tithe. At age 13, they, too, will sent to be unwound, but everyone see their lives and unwinding as a blessing and sacrifice for their specific religious group. This unwinding takes place at Harvest Camps (pretty disgusting premise, eh?).

In addition to this government sanctioned unwinding, there are "parts pirates" who sell body parts on a black market.

Below is my brief synopsis of UnWind, key points in UnStrung, and a more detailed review of UnWholly and UnSouled. The fourth book, UnDivided, is not part of this blog post.

Unwind (Book 1, published in 2007)

We're introduced to Lev in UnWind, the first book of this series. He was conceived by his parents on purpose as a tithe who will be unwound when he is 13. On the way to the harvest camp, he is kidnapped by an older kid named Connor who is determined to un-do all this unwinding stuff, but things don't go as planned and Lev ends up becoming a clapper. Clappers are kids whose blood is infused with chemicals so that loud clapping will cause them to explode. As UnWind draws to a close, Lev is supposed to clap, thereby detonating himself at a harvest camp, but he chooses not to do that. Instead, he pulls people to safety and will, later, need to have his blood cleansed.

UnStrung (a short story published in 2012 that fills in gaps between UnWind and UnWholly)

When UnStrung opens, we find Lev at a reservation. He sought refuge at this reservation because he'd heard that ChanceFolk didn't sign the Unwind Accord. Rather than use human body parts, their scientists have perfected a way to use animal parts instead, but the parts have to be from their particular spirit animal. They find out their spirit animal on a vision quest. At this unamed rez, Lev is nursed back to health by a Native doctor. She and her lawyer-husband have a son named Wil (he's older than Lev) who has a special musical gift. They call Lev "Mahpee" which means "sky faller" and is the name they use for people who climb the rez wall and drop down, into the reservation.

When Lev is feeling better, he and Wil are out with a group of kids on a vision quests to learn what their spirit animals are. But, they are attacked by some parts pirates, who want Native people because their parts are much desired. Wil sacrifices himself for the group. The story ends with his family and the tribe making Lev leave (Wil's family had tried to get sanctuary for Lev, but the tribal council said no to their request), and, they don't know what has happened to Wil. They know he was taken by parts pirates, but they don't know if he was unwound.

There's lot of stereotyping of Native peoples in UnStrung. Read my review for details on that, and see what Shusterman said in response.


UnWholly (Book 2)

Shusterman's second book in the series is titled UnWholly, published in 2012. An important character (in addition to Lev and Connor) is Cam (short for Camus). He is a "Rewind" -- a creature that is put together from the parts of others. His hands were once Wil's hands. That's Cam to the right. See the patterns on his face? It, too, is put together from several different people. Here's the part in the book where he looks at his face for the first time in a mirror (p. 58-59):

That face is a nightmare.
Strips of flesh, all different shades, like a living quilt stretched across the bone, muscle and cartilage beneath. Even his head--clean-shaven when he awoke, but no filling in with peach-fuzz hair--has different colors and textures sprouting like uneven fields of clashing crops.

The doctor who is helping Cam learn who he is, is a woman named Roberta. She's got a faint British accent. Cam is her creation. She found specific people to unwind and use to create him. His body is made of the best runner, swimmer, etc. that could be found. The left frontal lobe of his brain is from seven kids who were geniuses in math and science; the right frontal lobe is from almost a dozen poets, artists, musicians. His language center is a hub of nine languages. Studying the scars on his face, Cam realizes that (p. 61):

They are not as random as he had thought. They are symmetrical, the different skin tones forming a pattern. A design.

Roberta says (p. 61-62):

"It was a choice we made to give you a piece of every ethnicity. From the palest sienna-Caucasian, to the darkest umber tones of unspoiled Africa, and everything in between. Hispanic, Asian, Islander, Native, Australoid, Indian, Semitic--a glorious mosaic of humanity! You are everyman, Cam, and the truth of it is evident in your face."

Roberta goes on about how the scars will heal and he'll be "the new definition of handsome" and "a shining beacon" that will be "the greatest hope for the human race."

Frankly, I find this very unsettling. It means, of course, that faces were cut up to make his. And goodness! The stereotyping in it: "unspoiled Africa"?! As opposed to what? Spoiled Africa? Spoiled, how?!

Cam is unsettled by it all, too. At an event designed to show him off to VIPs, he malfunctions, calling out "I am more than the parts I'm made of!" (p. 144) He tries, unsuccessfully, to call that line out again and again but the words don't come. The big moment is ruined and Roberta whisks him off stage.

Lev, meanwhile, is serving as a counselor at a harvest camp after he's had the chemicals that made him into a clapper cleansed from his body. Those chemicals have damaged his body. He'll forever have the body of 13-year-old, and the only thing that will grow is his hair. He's staying with his adult brother, Marcus, but a clapper finds them and explodes herself. Marcus is badly hurt. Lev goes to the hospital with him and hopes his parents will see him (they kind of disowned him when he didn't go through with being tithed in the first book). They don't want anything to do with him. He's hurt by their rejection and goes back to his own hospital room (he was injured, too, in the blast). He curls up in bed, thinking back on his life (p. 191):

He thinks back to the days after he left CyFi, and before he arrived at the Graveyard. Dark days, to be sure, but punctuated by a bit of light when he found himself on a reservation, taken in by People of Chance. The Chance folk had taught him that when you have nothing to lose, there's no such thing as a bad roll of the dice."

I rolled my eyes as I read that! Come on, Shusterman (and your editors)! Didn't those Chance folk teachings throw up any red flags?! You create a tribe of Native people in the future whose teachings are related to their identity as casino Indians, as though casinos are a part of their value system?! (Shaking my head.) Since Lev can't stay with his brother anymore, he accepts an offer to go to the Cavanaugh mansion in Detroit which turns out to be a refuge for tithes. When he gets there, Mr. Cavanaugh greets him and tells him about the place. A woman calls out (p. 195):

"Mr. Cavenaugh, the natives are getting restless. Can I let them in?" 

Now see... I bet most people (like Shusterman and his editor) didn't give that phrase a thought! But if you're reading (as I am) through the lens of people who are dehumanized by white writers, well, FACEPALM.

Lev stays at that mansion for awhile but by the end of the book, he's reunited with Connor.

Roberta--who created Cam--looks for and finds a companion for Cam (p. 290):

...the young man with multiple skin tones that are exotic yet pleasing to the eye. 

Exotic and pleasing to... whose eye? This is the white fascination with 'other' taken to an extreme. I don't like it. As readers, I think Shusterman doesn't want us to like it either, but I'm not sure it works. Is there enough in the narrative that tells the reader that this gaze is problematic? If you see this taken up in a review, please let me know in the comments.

The companion that Cam ends up with is Risa. She's been a major character ever since Book 1. She was/is in love with Connor (also from Book 1) and doesn't like being manipulated into being Cam's companion for a public relations tour. Previously, she was in a wheelchair but Roberta gets her a new spine so she can walk. Then, there's a creepy thing that happens, and it appears later, too: the part of Cam that knows algebra is from a kid who had a crush on Risa. Cam has that memory--of the kid having a crush on her. When he tells her, she is horrified. Eventually the two slip into a friendly relationship and Roberta is thrilled with their interviews. But! At the end of the book at the last interview, Risa says its all been a farce. She takes off; Lev and Connor are headed east to Akron, on Route 66, to find a woman named Sonia.  


UnSouled (Book 3, published in 2014)

Picking right up, Lev and Connor are on the highway headed to Akron. They have an accident, get split up, captured, and then reunited when Connor (who has escaped in a sheriff's car) runs into Lev, who has leapt in front of the car. Of course, Connor recognizes him, and puts him in the car. He's bleeding internally and tells Connor and Grace, who is tagging along with Connor, to (p. 72):

"Get me to the Arapache Rez. West of Pueblo, Colorado."
Connor knows Lev must be delirious. "A ChanceFolk reservation? Why would ChanceFolk have anything to do with us?"
"Sanctuary," Lev hisses. "ChanceFolk never signed the Unwind Accord. The Arapache don't have an extradition treaty. They give asylum to AWOL Unwinds. Sometimes."
"Asylum is right!" says Grace. "No way I'm going to a Slot-Monger rez!"

Ok--so now that unnamed tribe from UnStrung has a name! For those who don't know, there is no "Arapache" tribe. My guess? Shusterman made it up by combining Arapahoe and Apache.  Connor does as Lev asks. They get to the Arapache rez, which is gated and has a sentry (p. 73):

In spite of all the literature and spin put forth by the Tribal Council, there is nothing noble about being a sentry at an Arapache Reservation gate. Once upon a time, when the United States was just a band of misfit colonies, and long before there were fences and walls marking off Arapache land, things were different. Back then, to be a perimeter scout was to be a warrior. Now all it means is standing in a booth in a blue uniform, checking passports and papers and saying hiisi' honobe, which roughly translates to "Have a beautiful day," proving that the Arapache are not immune to the banality of modern society.

Ah, shucks. This poor sentry. He isn't liking his job. He's rather be a noble warrior, scouting the perimeter of their land (Stereotype! Noble stereotype!). And here we go with some more made up language! I saw that in the short story, too. And remember that Mel Gibson did it, too, for Apocalypto? Here's more from the rez gate (p. 73).

At thirty-eight, the rez sentry is the oldest of the three on duty today at the east gate, and so, by his seniority, he's the only one allowed to carry a weapon. However, his pistol is nowhere near as elegant and meaningful as the weapons of old, in those times when they were called Indians rather than ChanceFolk... or "Slot Mongers," that hideous slur put upon them by the very people who made casino gaming the only way tribes could earn back their self-reliance, self-respect, and the fortunes leeched from them over the centuries. Although the casinos are long gone, the names remain. "ChanceFolk" is their badge of honor. "SlotMongers" is their scar. 

I get that Shusterman is trying to tell readers that colonization was a bad thing for Native peoples, but that message goes hand in hand with stereotyping... That poor sentry, wistful for being able to carry a "weapon of old" ---what might that be?! A bow and arrow? Or... a spear?! Those weapons of old have more "meaning." But why?! What gives a weapon meaning? I don't get it.

Well. When Connor and Lev and Grace get to the gate, there are lots of carloads of parents who want to take photos and buy ChanceFolk crafts. Crafts! Because that's what Indians do. Indians! Crafts! In the American imagination, they go together. Anyway, the tribe is very careful about who gets in (p. 73-74):

Not every tribe has taken such an isolationist approach, of course, but then, not many tribes have been as successful as the Arapache when it came to creating a thriving, self-sustaining, and admittedly affluent community. Theirs is a "Hi-Rez," both admired and resented by certain "Low-Rez" tribes who squandered those casino earnings rather than investing in their own future.

Interesting that Shusterman is creating this binary, of Hi/Low rez tribes. Why? Will it matter later? And... about those reservation gates (p. 74):

As for the gates, they didn't go up until after the Unwind Accord. Like other tribes, the Arapache refused to accept the legality of unwinding--just as they had refused to be a part of the Heartland War. "Swiss Cheese Natives," detractors of the time had called them, for the ChanceFolk lands were holes of neutrality in the midst of a battling nation.

Yes! You read that right. "Swiss Cheese Natives." I'm trying to recall swiss cheese being used to represent pockets of resistance in other books. Doesn't it strike you as, well, silly? There's more info about that (p. 74):

So the rest of the country, and much of the world, took to recycling the kids it didn't want or need, and the Arapache Nation, along with all the rest of the American Tribal Congress, proclaimed, if not their independence, then their recalcitrance. They would not follow the law of the land as it stood, and if pressed, the entire Tribal Congress would secede from the union, truly making Swiss cheese of the United States. With one costly civil war just ending, Washington was wise to just let it be.

Shusterman's "American Tribal Congress" must be his reworking of the National Congress of American Indians (NCAI). It is a membership organization, not a union of sorts that would "secede from the union" if it wanted to do so. I wonder what Shusterman knows about NCAI? And he used "swiss cheese" again! But there's more (p. 74):

Of course, court battles have been raging for years as to whether or not the Arapache Nation has the right to demand passports to enter their territory, but the tribe as become very adept at doing the legal dance. The sentry doubts the issue will ever be resolved. At least not in his lifetime.

This passport stuff is, for some current tribal nations, real. The Onondaga Nation issues passports. Prior to 9/11, they were accepted at international borders, but heightened security put a stop to that, preventing the Iroquois national lacrosse team from an international competition. I guess Shusterman read up on that, a bit.

Back to the story. The sentry suggests that Connor take Lev to a hospital in Canon City because it is closer than "the reservation's medical lodge." He doesn't want to let them in, but then he hears Lev say "Friend of Elina Tashi'ne," which surprises him (p. 75-76):

"The medicine woman?" There are many thousands on the rez, but there are those whose reputation is well known. The Tashi'ne family is very highly regarded--and everyone knows about the terrible tragedy they endured.

The tragedy is what happened to them in UnStrung (when Wil sacrificed himself to parts pirates; some blame Lev for what happened). Lev asks the sentry to call Elina. She wants a name, and when Connor tells him Lev's name, the sentry recognizes both Connor and Lev:

As for Lev, he was infamous on the rez before he became "the clapper who wouldn't clap." You can't speak the name of poor Wil Tashi'ne without also thinking of Lev Calder and his involvement in that tragedy. And his friends here probably don't even know. 

The sentry is right. Connor doesn't know. Skipping ahead, Lev recalls being at the Arapache reservation the first time, watching kids climb up and down rope ladders, worried that they'd fall. Wil told him (p. 150):

"We built America's great bridges and skyscrapers," Wil had told him proudly. "For us, balance is a matter of pride."

With that, Shusterman is referencing a fact, but giving that identity to his made-up tribe. Shusterman's tribe is in Colorado. The real ironworkers? Mohawks. As I said in my review of UnStrung, I think Shusterman had Pueblo Indians in his head as he created this tribe. Pueblo peoples used ladders at Mesa Verde and similar places, but in the modern day, we didn't do the ironwork that Mohawk's did. This cut/paste of identity is what makes the fictitious tribe move Shusterman did problematic.

Recall from UnStrung, the ChanceFolk have spirit animals that they use for their replacement body parts when they need parts? Well... guess what? Lev is able to get a spirit animal, too. On page 158, he figures out that his spirit animal is a kinajou. They live in the tropical rain forests of Southern Mexico and Brazil. The "spirit animal" stuff... that's not real either. It is another thing that outsiders to Native tribes use all the time.

Connor, Lev, and Grace have been on the reservation at this point for two weeks. Connor is tired of being there, and notes contradictions in Arapache lifestyle, austere but pointedly opulent. He thinks (p. 187):

With one hand they rebuke creature comforts, but with the other they embrace it--as if they are in a never-ending battle between spiritualism and materialism. It must have been going on so long, they seem blind to their own ambivalence, as if it's just become a part of their culture.

I want to think through this for awhile, but for now, I'll say this: this kind of judgement of Native nations that have casinos is common. A good bit of it is from people who think that Native peoples are "better" than other human beings and disappointed with casinos and what tribes do/do not do with profits from those casinos. It is the "noble savage" who is akin to the "model minority"--- but who disappoints the gaze because... we're human!

There's some strategizing happening, over Connor and Lev and what they'll do next. They want to leave but they'll need to throw the media off their tracks in some way. The plan? Bring in another tribe. But this time, it is a real one: the Hopi. Elina's husband, Chal, is a lawyer and he'll put the word out that he's going to represent the Hopi in a land dispute case, and that in return, they will give Connor and Lev asylum.

Up to this point in the book, I've read (re-read, actually)--but not commented on--the chapters told from Cam's point of view because they've not been specific to Native aspects of who he is, or about the Chance Folk either, but that returns on page 214. Cam signs his name on a document Roberta gives him. But then she asks him to flip the paper over, look at her, and sign his name again as he looks at her. He does, and when he looks back at the paper, he sees Wil Tashi'ne's name rather than Camus Comprix. Why?

Because, Roberta tells him, he has Wil's hands (p. 214):

"It's his neural connections and muscle memory that allow you to play guitar and accomplish a whole host of fine-motor skills."

As you might suspect, Cam is taken aback by this development, making him wonder who he is. This muscular memory is going to appear later, again.

At this point, Cam is definitely in love with Risa, misses her, wants to find her, and thinks he can impress her by bringing down Roberta and her company. She was/is in love with Connor, and of course, Cam is jealous but thinks that Connor is dead. He's feeling conflicted over a lot of things (like being treated as property) and starts wandering around alone. Roberta doesn't like him doing that.

After one outing, Cam goes to his room and starts playing the guitar. Remember--it is Wil's hands and muscle memory that drives his playing. Earlier, he'd learned that Connor wasn't, in fact, dead. As he plays the guitar, fragments of memory come together and he recognizes Lev, via Wil's memories, as someone who he (Wil) had healed with his music. He plays more and pulls together a much more complete memory of Lev. He figures he's got to get to the  When he'd been out earlier that evening and saw that Connor was in the news, he also saw the photo of Lev, and as he plays the guitar, he digs till he finds a memory of Wil playing for Lev on the Arapache reservation. He figures that's where Risa is and takes off to find her.

On page 252, he's found her, on the reservation. He's gotten past the gates, Wil's memories guide him to Una's house. We met Una in UnStrung. She was Wil's girlfriend. Cam finds that his hands know just where she keeps a key, hidden, and uses it to go in her house. He finds one of Wil's guitars and starts playing it.

Of course, Una hears the music, goes to investigate and sees Cam. She listens to him play for awhile, and then knocks him out with a guitar, ties him up, and carries him to an old sweat lodge where youth went to do a vision quest when they were of age. A vision quest. Safe to say all of this is another face palm. Both are common in books outsiders write about Native peoples. Both, a sweat lodge and a vision quest, are specific to certain tribes--not all of them--but they get put forth as one of those "Indian" things that has to be in ANY book ANYONE writes about Native people.

In that lodge, she ties him up between two poles that are six feet apart. The description of its size makes me wonder what Shusterman is talking about. I don't think a sweat lodge is big like this one, and they aren't made of stone. I'm thinking Shusterman is thinking about a kiva. Remember--the "Arapache" village is Puebloan in style. We use kivas, and some are made of stone. And they're big. Anyway! Moving on.

Cam stays unconscious as she ties him up between those two poles. He slumps, and looks like "a supplicant Y" (p. 256). Una leaves for the night, and returns the next morning..... with..... a chain saw.

Noting the seams/scars where his various parts have been assembled. She says (p. 258):

"Up and down and around--those lines go everywhere, don't they? Like an old shaman's sand drawings."

As with the sweat lodge/vision quest, the "sand drawings" stopped me. Here, Shusterman is dipping into sand painting (not 'drawing') most commonly done by Navajos in ceremony and today, in art. With this, we have an "Arapache" tribe whose homes are Puebloan in style, whose people scale heights like Mohawks, who use what is generally a Lakota sweat lodge, and whose medicine includes methods done by Navajos. I know that Shusterman is creating fiction, but Native and non-Native people have been, for years and years, saying "do not do mash ups of tribes" because that contributes to misunderstandings of who Native people are. Una continues (p. 258):

"The shaman's lines are meant to trace life and creation--is that what your lines are for too? Are you a creation? Are you alive?"

and

"Are you that man-made man I've heard tell of? What is it they call you? "Sham Complete'?"

Una does not like Cam. So what does this rez girl plan to do? She knows he has Wil's hands, so, she's going to cut them off with that chain saw! At the last minute, she cuts his jacket (that's what she used to tie one of his arms with) and hurls the chain saw across the room ('room' doesn't work if this is really a sweat lodge). With that free arm, he reaches up and unties the ribbon in her hair. She backs away, freaked out by that because that was something that Wil used to do. He tells her about memories he has via Wil's parts, now his. Then she cuts his other arm free and asks him to show her (with his hands) what Wil's hands would do to her. He touches her neck, her lips, her cheek, wrist... and then, she knocks him out again. And ties him back up.

Pretty intense scene, isn't it? And creepy. Very creepy and unsettling, too. It is violent, and it is a violation. It is perverse.

On page 270, Connor (he, Lev, and Grace are staying with Una) becomes suspicious of why/where she goes each day with a guitar and rifle. He decides to follow her to a structure he says is shaped like an igloo. Connor climbs on top of it, peering down as Una repeatedly asks Cam what her name is. He can't remember. They've been having this 'what's my name' conversation for a few days already. Connor can see that Cam has been urinating in his pants. He smells horrible. Her interrogation of him over, she unties him and at gunpoint, makes him play the guitar.

That, and the previous scene, are ones of torture. Una is torturing Cam. It is sadistic. While there have been sadistic acts throughout Shusterman's series, especially with regard to the creation of Cam, Shusterman has never been this graphic. I wonder if he sees that he saved up the most grotesque behaviors for the Native character? Does he see that he's created the savage Indian?

From his perch atop the lodge, Connor knocks some stones loose. Una sees him, aims her rifle at him, he falls down, she runs out with her rifle, points it at him... and then Cam bolts. She runs after him, dropping her rifle to tackle him, and Connor picks it up. Now he's in charge. He tells Cam that Risa is not there. Una wants to tie him up again but Connor insists on taking him back to her apartment. With the rifle, he's got control of the situation. Back at Una's, they see a press conference at which a spokesman for the Hopi tribe will neither confirm or deny a rumor that Connor and Lev are on their reservation. This creates the distraction that Lev and Connor need to take off. Elina arranges a car.

But, we learn that Lev doesn't want to go with Connor because he thinks he can "make a difference" (p. 317) because "they need to start listening to outside voices" (p. 318) and he can be that voice. The tribe has provided them with IDs. Both are now Arapache. Lev's name is Mahpee Kinkajou, and Connor's is Bees-Neb Hebiite Elina says Connor's name means stolen shark (he has a shark tattoo on the arm that used to belong to someone else). Connor and Grace leave, taking Cam with them.

Recall that in UnStrung, Lev's outsider status meant more to Wil's grandfather than Wil's perspective did? This is another slice of that, and it bothers me. Shusterman is making sure we all know that Lev is a white savior. He knows best.

Life for Lev, on the Arapache Rez, is peaceful and calm, but he feels compelled to do something about what is going on outside. He talks with Elina, but he finds that she has a "passive, fatalistic view of the world" that "too many people on the rez share" (p. 347).

I find that "fatalistic view" to be much like the stereotype of primitive Indians with no agency, just living life. No worries, no cares, like children.

On page 348, Lev is thinking:

There's an expression among ChanceFolk. "As go the Arapache, so go the nations." As the most financially successful, and arguably the most politically important ChanceFolk tribe, policy that's put in place here often spreads to other tribes. While the Arapache are still the most isolationist, instituting borders that require passports, many other tribes--particularly the ones that don't rely on tourism--have made their territory harder to access as well, taking their lead from the Arapache.

He thinks that, if he can convince the Arapache to do something, the other tribes will follow. But, a lot of the Arapache don't like him, so he needs a pretty good plan. A few days later, he goes into town to a concert. He gets onstage and tells people the names of the parts pirates who took Wil away, and that he's going to track them down and bring them back to face justice. Then, "in perfect Arapache," he calls out (p. 350):

"Who will help me?"

His question is greeted by silence. He repeats it, and then hears a response, also in Arapache. It is Una saying she will help him. Slowly the crowd starts to clap for Lev and his plan, and that's the end of the Native parts of UnSouled. 

Shusterman's fourth book, UnDivided, will have its own blog post. Thus far, I've found the series unsettling. I know--that's what a dystopia is supposed to do--but the use of stereotypes and the mishmash of elements of various tribes--mean the book doesn't work for me as a Native reader. There's too much wrong. In his comment to my review of UnStrung, Shusterman said he worked hard not to stereotype, but that he didn't want to be "politically correct" either, because that is as bad as stereotyping. What, I wonder, would this series have looked like if he'd been "politically correct" in his treatment of Native culture and characters?

NOT RECOMMENDED: Rosanne Parry's WRITTEN IN STONE

Editor's notes:

• 3-22-2014, 7:13AM: Rosanne Parry submitted a comment to this review. I pasted her comment and my response to her comment beneath the review for your convenience (both are also visible in the comment section). 
• 3/29/2014, 9:03AM: I've continued to paste Parry and my comments into the body of the review.
• 4/6/2014, 5:59 PM: Please read the comments, too, submitted by others, and submit yours, too. 
• 4/25/2014, 4:42 PM: I'm re-reading the book, and revisiting my notes as I do... There are so many areas of concern that did not get into the review below. Not sure yet what I'll do with them. Perhaps an essay, later, when this conversation is over. 
• 9/25/2018, 7:43 PM: I contacted Janine Ledford, Executive Director at the Makah Cultural and Research Center, to ask if the museum store sells Written In Stone. Ms. Ledford wrote back to say they do not sell it.

~~~~~

In the late 1990s, one of the big stories circulating amongst Native people was what was happening with the Makah Nation in the state of Washington. For the first time in decades, they were going to go whaling. Choosing to hunt again was their choice. It was the exercise of their sovereignty.

They had stopped whaling in the 1920s because commercial whaling had overwhelmed the gray whale, such that it was placed on the endangered animals list. When the gray whale was removed from that status, the Makah nation's leaders declared their intent to resume their whale hunt. Their desire to do so was challenged by groups that did not want them to hunt and it ended up in court. The Makah won the case. Environmentalists were furious. There was intense media coverage (see this article from the LA Times). Protesters carried signs that said "Save a Whale, Hunt a Makah." The school received bomb threats. The hunt took place in May of 1999.

That knowledge is what I brought to my reading of Written In Stone (published in 2013 by Random House). It'll help, before I begin, to say that the structure for Parry's book is Pearl (the protagonist) in 1999, then in 1923, and then back in 1999 again.

Pearl - the "old woman" who opens/closes Written In Stone

Rosanne Parry's book, Written In Stone, opens with Pearl, an "old woman" (on page 181 Parry describes her as an old woman) headed to the beach for that 1999 whale hunt. Reporters are all around, but there are no clues that this was a contested moment. Pearl reflects back on her childhood, to 1923 when she was thirteen, and was waiting for her father to return from a hunt. That remembering is the bulk of the story Parry tells. The last part of the story returns to Pearl in 1999. As she walks to the beach, she hears the click and whir of cameras.

Parry does not reference the media frenzy or anti-Makah activity anywhere. Pearl, if she was a real person, would definitely have been enduring it. Parry's Pearl doesn't reference the antagonism at all. As I read the story, though, Parry created Pearl as an activist (more on that later). Not having Pearl note the anti-Makah activities as she walks to the whale they've hunted doesn't ring true. And--Parry calling her an "old woman" doesn't work for me personally. Pearl would be called an elder.

The Author's Note

Parry divided her Author's Note into several sections. She begins with "Connections" on page 177, where she tells us that:

"As a fifth grader, I saw the Raven stories told and danced by Chief Lelooska and his family at their longhouse in Ariel, Washington. When the dancer pulled the hidden string that split the mask open to reveal the sun it seemed as magical to me in the firelight as any movie special effect." 

Reading how taken she was with Lelooska gave me pause. The place Parry visited was/is a performance space that is not affiliated with any of the tribes in that area. The person who went by "Chief Lelooska" is a man named Don Smith. In Chris Friday's Lelooska: The Life of a Northwest Coast Artist (University of Washington Press, 2011), we read that he was born in Sonoma, California to a woman who was 3/4 Cherokee but not raised or enrolled with the Cherokee Nation.

The "About Chief Lelooska" page at the website for the Lelooska Foundation says that "Lelooska" is a Nez Perce name, given to Smith when the Nez Perce adopted him when he was 12 years old. In the second paragraph, we read that he was later adopted by a Kwakiutl man named James Sewid, and that the adoption came hereditary rights to Sewid's family heritage. In short, Lelooska can do what Sewid did, which is to perform Kwakiutl stories. Later on that page, we read that Lelooska is an authority on Indians of North America.

Smith's story is quite familiar. There are many people who were taken with Native artifacts and started making and selling them. When actual tribal peoples are called in to look over the items supposed to be authentic, they're found to be little more than craft work of hobbyists. There are critical reviews of Lelooska. Friday alludes to his problematic identity (and to Sewid's controversial activities, too), and so do others, but I gather Parry is unaware of them. In her Resources section, she lists the Lelooska Foundation and two of his books as resources for young readers.

In the Connections section, Parry writes about teaching 5th graders at Taholah Elementary School on the Quinault reservation. Specifically, she writes about a discussion they had about story, and that a student asked "Why is the story never about us?" (p. 178). Another student said "I guess nothing is going to change unless somebody here grows up and writes that book" (p. 179). Then she writes "I did not imagine I would be the one to grow up and write the book" that is Written In Stone. She dedicates the book to those students, who, "asked for a book of their own. I never forgot, and after all these years, this story is for you and all of your children and even someday your grandchildren."

We can look at Parry's decision to write that book as a wonderful decision. She wrote it, I'm guessing, a decade or so after she left there. She doesn't tell us how long she taught at Taholah. My overall sense is that she was was deeply moved by teaching there, which makes me wonder why she left. Memories, though, lingered such that she decided to write the book.

Problems in Pearl as a 13 year old

A quick overview of the main points of the story of Pearl as a 13 year old:

• Her father is killed on a whale hunt; her mother has been dead for 5 years, of influenza
• Without a whale, Pearl's extended family is worried about survival
• Her grandfather gets a letter from a collector (Mr. Glen); if they work with him, it could be a source of badly needed income
• Pearl plans to steal her father's regalia so her family won't sell it, but on her way to do it, gets hurt and spends a couple of days on a part of the shore where she finds petroglyphs and decides not to go through with her plan
• Back with her family, Pearl figures out the collector's real agenda is to get them drunk and get their signatures on documents signing away mineral rights to coal and oil in "Shipwreck Cove."
• Pearl undermines the collector/speculator's activities by writing letters to other tribes along the coast

As I read the story of thirteen-year-old Pearl, I kept getting a sense of writing that was more influenced by Chief Lelooska and somewhat romantic ideas of Native people, past and present, than by the Makah students Parry taught.

For example, when we meet the thirteen-year-old Pearl, she says she is a princess, and that her mother was a Tlingit princess. Where, I wonder, did Parry find support for so boldly proclaiming that identity for Pearl?

In various places, we read that Pearl is the one who is going to remember the songs, dances, and stories. She will commit them to memory, and she will write them down. She is the one who will save all those aspects of their culture for the tribe. Her grandmother gives her a journal to write in, and a fancy pen, too, but later, Pearl wonders if there's a rule against women writing, so some of this thread has gaps that creep in, I think, as Parry tries to tease out (inject?!) some feminist ideas about what women can/cannot do.

Another inconsistency is that her father didn't burn her mother's loom. He was supposed to burn everything, and burning everything is such a dramatic moment early on in the story, that when I got to that part--with a blanket partly intact on the loom--it didn't make sense to me. Maybe I was supposed to fill in a gap that her mother's weaving was so important that her father would refuse to burn it, but, her grandmother went on at one point about how her dad had to burn everything in order to survive the pain of losing his wife.

In several places, Pearl talks about a "robe of power." Her dad had one, and her mom had one, and she wants one, too. Her dad was going to make one for her, but his death put an end to that process. The ways she talks of that "robe of power" feel odd to me. Some articles of clothing do have significance, so I do understand that. I think it was just over-used in the story.

When Pearl is afraid her family may sell her father's regalia to the collector, she makes a plan to steal her father's things and move away to live amongst white people, where she imagines that the "bread-loaf brown faded from my skin" (p. 123) when she'll be pale like a weevil. As someone with brown skin, I can tell you that it never fades to the pale tones of a weevil.

Back to 1999

Back in 1999, Pearl recounts having written a thousand letters to tribes, governors, senators, and presidents. The became the editor of an Indian newspaper, and one of the authors of the Quinault and Makah dictionaries. She wrote a book about medicinal plants, and made sound recordings of the old songs. Earlier, I said she became an activist. This recitation of all her activities is evidence of that activist identity and is why it doesn't make sense to me that Pearl doesn't mention the whaling controversy when the book opens, or here, either. Maybe we are meant to think she's beyond or above that controversy, but all of these things Pearl did just makes me think of Don "Chief Lelooska" Smith again. By that, I mean, that the man had a huge ego, and, so does Pearl.

As I noted on opening this review, the Makah decision to whale again was a decision to exercise their rights as a sovereign nation. It was preceded by activism of the 1960s and 1970s when the tribal nations of the northwest coast won a major case in the Supreme Court, again, over the rights stated in the treaty they signed with the U.S. Government in 1855.

Parry demonstrates some understanding of political battles. Her reference to the exploitation of collectors is one example. She wanted to write a book that would reflect the lives of her Makah students, and, perhaps, the Makah's long-standing activism to protect their rights. Pearl's effort to keep items from the collector is a gesture in that direction, but that isn't what that collector--or Parry--was focused on. Instead, Parry makes up two things. In the Author's Note, she tells us she made these up:

• First is the petroglyphs. She says that there are, in fact, petroglyphs are around that area, but that she made up the ones in her book--the ones that are so pivotal in what Pearl does. 

• Second, she made up the cove and the coal and oil that are in that cove, and she shrouds that cove with Makah stories about monsters that keep kids away from there. In doing that, she's making up tribal stories, too.   

There are other things that are jarring to me, that I wonder if they, like the petroglyphs and cove, are made up:

• Having Pearl play "Pirates and Indians" made me go "huh?" I would love to see Parry's source for that. 

• I'm also wondering about a source for the part of the story where the Indian Agent makes her father burn all of her mother's things, AND her mother's body, and the baby, too when she dies of influenza. It was the Influenza epidemic of 1918. I haven't found support for burning of bodies, whether they were Native or not. 

My bottom line?

As a Native reader, I find made-up stuff all the time. It is troublesome, but in this case, it is worse because Parry deliberately set out to write a book for those kids in Taholah, who--I imagine--are dealing with made up stuff all the time, too. If I was a writer, I wouldn't add to that pile of made-up-stuff. It'd be hard to imagine myself doing it and then handing it to the kids.

In the end, I can't recommend this book.

A couple of tips to writers: keep in mind that Native people already have a huge pile of made-up stuff to deal with. I don't think we need to add to it. And, check your sources! Check the knowledge you bring to your project! I think if Parry had let go of her memories of Chief Lelooska and done some background research on him, she'd have written a different book. [One more tip, added an hour after this review went live as I started shutting down all the windows I had open while working on my review: Read Native journals! There's an excellent article in American Indian Quarterly (volume 29 #1 and 2) about the Makah museum and working with staff there. Titled "Forging Indigenous Methodologies on Cape Flatterly" it provides insights on how tribal peoples work with people who are not tribal members so that projects fit within the frame of native nation building (which I've written about before) that are mutually beneficial.]

I invite your comments on my review.

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Rosanne Parry's comment, posted on Friday, March 21, 2014, at 11:55 AM

Debbie, thank you for your thoughtful and lengthy review of Written in Stone. It's unusual for any reviewer to go to the depth you have and I appreciate the concerns you've raised in this blog post. Writing a novel, in my experience, is mostly about taking things out, so I'm grateful for the opportunity to discuss the ideas in the story and elements of the Quinault and Makah culture in more detail--elements that would have been didactic within the book but are great fuel for conversation around the book. I have reasons for all the story choices I've made and I'm always glad to discuss them. 

I don't want to clog up your blog with lengthy comments, so I'll respond to your concerns on my own blog over the next month or so. Please don't construe my remarks as disapproval of what you've said. I'm just happy to have a conversation on a topic we both care about. 

I will comment briefly on the choice of old woman vs. elder as a description for Pearl as a great-grandmother. I'm not entirely happy with that word choice myself. Elder would be the expected word and my editor asked me why I didn't choose it in this passage. But in my time in Taholah I never remember hearing the older generation referred to as elders. Seniors is the term I always heard. When I was invited back to Taholah for a celebration of Written in Stone this May I was asked to speak to the seniors in the afternoon before the evening event. So in earlier drafts I used the word senior. The trouble is most readers of this book will be in fourth grade (when Native cultures of the Pacific northwest are studied in Oregon and Washington). Kids this age tend to associate the word senior with 17 year old high school students--not an image I want to evoke. 

This is a word choice I'd gladly reconsider. And fortunately we have a window of opportunity right now before the book goes to paperback to make a different choice. Do you have another word that you think would work better? I hate it when one word in a book rings false to me and takes me out the story. I'm sorry you had that experience with old woman as a description of Pearl. I'll have to go back and look up the Quinault word for grandmother. That might be the best solution. But I am in earnest in asking you for your opinion. There probably is a better choice to make, and both I and my publisher are committed to putting out the best version of this story possible. They've always been supportive of this in the past and I'm sure they will be now. 

Thanks again for your review. I'm always looking for good stories set among the tribes of the northwest and in particular ones by a Native American author. I'm very interested in encouraging a more diverse group of writers for children, and I'm glad to have you here championing their work.



Debbie's response to Parry, Saturday, March 22, 2014 at 7:00 AM

Rosanne,

I am replying to your question about the use of "old woman" but there is a lot more that pulled me out of the story. 

You call Pearl an "old woman" in your author's note. That is what I was referring to (I included a page number). That is who she is in your mind. 

Personally, the phrase that comes to my mind when I think of older women at home is elder. If I was writing that author note as the author, I would think "elder" and not "old woman." I would have written "with Pearl as an elder" rather than "with Pearl as an old woman". It isn't wrong for you to say "old woman." That is who she is to you. More than being right/wrong, I think it demonstrates outsider perspective.

You use "old woman" when Jeremiah speaks to the white agent (when the agent thinks Pearl should go away to school). That was fine. In that context, "old woman" works.

Later, when Susi tells Pearl to write everything down, Pearl worries that she might get something wrong. The text reads "I imagined the whole row of old women who sit in the honored positions at all the feasts. I imagined them shaking their heads and clucking to each other about that pathetic Pearl Carver, a girl who didn't know her own stories properly." Your use of "old women" there--you can ask your contacts what they would use. At that moment Pearl sure isn't thinking well of her elders, is she, thinking they'd "cluck." I'd run that by your contacts, too. Though that phrase "cluck" or "clucking" has been around a very long time among English speaking people, its use by a Makah girl in the 1920s feels odd, and, it is more like what an adult, not a child, would say. 

We use "seniors" at Nambe, too, by the way, but the contextual use is different and related to the community projects in place to care and support them. My sister might say "the seniors are having a..." and I'd know she was talking about the senior citizens. My sister's kids would know what she meant, too. You're right, though. Non-Native kids, or Native kids who aren't living in a tight Native community would read "seniors" and think of students in a high school. You heard "seniors" because that is the context of your interaction with the students and community. 

I'll be out in Washington doing some workshops with librarians in April. I'll ask them about some of this, too.

That said, those are words. They could be changed but the overall sense I have in reading the story doesn't ring true. What I get in reading your book is more of an outsider perspective. 

Please don't worry about clogging up my site. I welcome the conversation, too. 

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Parry's response, March 23 2014, 12:03 AM CDT:

Since you're open to an ongoing conversation I'll continue to comment here and post these comments on my blog with a link to yours and also some pictures and maps and other things that I hope will help others who are interested follow the conversation. 

I was happy to see both you and Beverly Slapin comment on the controversy surrounding the 1999 Makah whale hunt. It was big news in the region and I'm glad to hear that the news made the national stage as well. The best information on how hunts are conducted is found on the Makah website. I put a link to that on my blog. There is much additional information to be found at the Makah Cultural Research Center in Neah Bay. 

The resumption of whaling by the Makah encountered some vociferous opposition, most notably by the Sea Shepherd Society, but it also found support from a number of places. The International Whaling Commission verified that the gray whale is no longer an endangered species. There were marine safety issues to work out with local agencies. The hunt took place near a very busy international shipping lane, so that called for some communication and planning. Those negotiations were lengthy and complex but it's not my impression that they were acrimonious. Unfortunately the peaceful working out of details does not make for exciting news, so I think the national outlets in particular paid attention to controversy more than cooperation. 

I heard the Chairman of the Makah Whaling commission speak in Portland about the day of the hunt back in 2000. He said that on the morning of the hunt, the media was not present when the whalers set out and arrived only after the whale had already been brought in. The helicopters and cameras did show up eventually and the atmosphere on the beach got a bit chaotic, but there was a brief window of time when the Makah were (not completely but nearly) alone with their whale, and that time meant a great deal to them. Cultural renewal is the phrase the chairman used to describe what that moment meant to the tribe. 

That is the moment I wanted for Pearl and her great-granddaughter. The reader can deduce from the news helicopter chop that the moment of peace will be brief but it's the prerogative of the novelist to pick the focus of a scene and I wanted to end with that one moment of connection for Pearl's family and their whale. 

Absolutely true that the activist that Pearl grew up to be would have been in the thick of the work of resuming the treaty right to hunt whales. In fact when I first thought about writing this story I wanted to write about the resumption of whaling. Self-determination of natural resources is a piece of the civil rights story that seldom gets told. It's a rich history and one I'd love to see in books for kids. 

Ahem! you publishing professionals who have said in my hearing that there's a need for more middle grade non-fiction, this is the perfect topic for a non-fiction series! It involves geography, history, a variety of Native and Non-native cultures, biology, chemistry, climate change, economics, international trade. Think of the possibilities for critical thinking and curriculum connections! 


Back to the topic at hand :-)


I left the whaling controversy out of Written in Stone for several reasons. Most of all I wanted to keep the focus on Pearl as a teenager in the 1920s and leave the 1999 whale hunt to serve as a frame and show that although the Makah lost whaling in the 1920s, it was not lost to them forever. It also shows that the Makah have not vanished nor maintained an Amish-like distance from the things of modern life, but continue to live and thrive in the same place they've always lived. 

As I researched the whale hunt the piece of it that really interested me was that the Makah who had organized their culture around whale hunting voluntarily gave it up when they saw the whale populations plummet in the Pacific. That cultural survival piece of how to go on being the people that you are when something that so defined you is gone. That's interesting to me personally and I think it's something that people from a wide variety of cultures can relate to. It's true that I'm writing as an outsider to the Makah experience. A fiction writer is always writing outside of her experience. However, the Irish have long suffered the suppression of their culture, language, music, literature, and dance. And I know how I feel about playing a jig or hornpipe that's hundreds of years old or dancing a set from my father's ancestral county; it's an avenue of insight for me. Many people have an experience of cultural loss in coming to this country and although it is not the same experience it does make the story more accessible to the reader. So I chose to focus on the cultural survival aspect of this story rather than the resumption of whaling.

I also felt that a contemporary story about the Makah whaling experience would be better told by a whaler or other member of the tribe. I'd much prefer to use my book, imperfect instrument that it is, to nudge local writers in the direction of writing and publishing. In fact I'm happy to hear you'll be in Washington. I've been developing the position of Youth Outreach Coordinator in our local SCBWI, in part, for the purpose of fostering a more diverse generation writers. Perhaps that's an area where we could work together. One of the benefits of having a book published at a large publishing house is that it can attract attention to an issue. There is still so little in print about tribes of the northwest, and my hope is that if this book does well enough, then other publishers will see the potential for more books set among these tribes and addressing these vital issues--a need that could be filled by local writers. 

I'll stop here for today but later this week I'll get to the pirates and indians bit because, yes, there is a story about that!


Debbie's response to Parry, Monday March 24 2014, 11:27 AM CDT:

Thanks, Rosanne, for continuing to comment here. 

A quick note: when Native people assert our rights to this or that, it is not CIVIL rights, it is TREATY rights. 

It is common--but incorrect--to characterize Native activism as "civil rights" because most of American society thinks of social movements of American citizens as centered on civil rights.


Parry's response to Debbie, Tuesday March 25 2014, 5:40 PM CDT:

Absolutely right about the treaty rights being a different issue than civil rights. 

I'm thinking in terms of what will work for schools and the treaty issues raised here and in a number of the other books you have recommended could find place in the curriculum under the broader umbrella of civil rights history. Not a perfect fit but I have a lot of confidence in a teacher's ability to make the necessary distinctions with students.

Treaty rights as they pertain to natural resources could also find a place in the science curriculum under conservation or environmental literacy. Again not a perfect fit but I think we both want to see lots of books with Native American characters used in schools and to do so we'll have to find a spot somewhere in the common core for them to perch. 

I'd love to see a non-fiction book about treaty rights too. That would be a great resource, because it's another of those frequently misunderstood topics. 


Parry's comment, Friday, March 28 2014, 9:03 AM CDT:

I promised to tell you a little more about Pirates and Indians and the week got away from me. Sorry about that. Here are my thoughts.

The word or phrase that pulls the reader out of the story is sometimes a flaw in in the author's word choices and sometimes the inevitable result of what the reader brings to the page, but sometimes it is the intention of the author to invite a reader to pause outside of the story for a moment and reflect. Such is the case with the pirates and indians remark in Written in Stone. The reader is naturally expecting the phrase cowboys and indians so the pirate reference invites the observation that there no cowboys in this story and no horses. 

Most Americans associate horses and teepees with Native Americans but that's a very narrow picture of the more than 500 nations that reside here. The Quinault and Makah have never been horse cultures. The Olympic Peninsula gets 15 feet of rain a year. It's part of the only temperate rainforest in North America. It's very difficult to keep horses alive in such a wet climate and there's nothing that grows natively for them to eat. 

These tribes are a maritime culture, two of the many tribes of the Pacific who make ocean going canoes. Their navigational skills are impressive. Historically they traveled as far north as Alaska and up the Columbia to Celilo Falls. Extensive canoe journeys are still made regularly. Most recently the Quinaults hosted an event which gathered hundreds of people from the native cultures of the Pacific who traveled to Taholah by canoe. 

(Debbie, we haven't talked about the cover so I'm not sure how you feel about it but, I am so pleased my cover artist Richard Tuschman chose a canoe for the cover of this book. I'm also thrilled that Random House paid attention to the lack of children of color on book covers in general and made sure Pearl appeared--not in silhouette--on the cover of this one.)

There is a story about a contact between Spanish Pirates and the Quinaults which predates their contact with English speaking settlers. As the story goes the Quinaults resisted the pirates so fiercely at see that the Spanish fled and no Spanish ship ever landed on their shores again. It's impossible to verify this event, but as used in the story as a passing reference, it doesn't matter. The Spanish did travel in these waters. The Quinaults had experience fighting at sea. If it didn't happen, it could have which is evidence enough for a work of fiction.

The larger purpose of the reference though is to invite a conversation about what makes this tribe and this ecosystem and this culture different from other Native American tribes with which my reader may be more familiar. In my opinion the conversation that happens because of a book is far more important than anything that's actually in the book. Which I why I'm so grateful for this conversation here. Thanks for continuing to engage with me Debbie.


Debbie's response to Parry, March 29 2014 at 8:50 AM CDT:

I thought the support for your use of "pirates and Indians" would be that, in your research, you had found the phrase being used by a Makah in the 1920s. 

What you offer instead is an awareness of history and material culture of the Makah, and, why you used that awareness to use "pirates" instead of "cowboys" when you have Pearl say that "pirates and Indians was our favorite game" (p. 42). 

I appreciate your explanation, but I don't buy that Pearl's favorite game in 1920 would be to play pirates and Indians. 

Here's why:

There is evidence of non-Native people dressing up to play Indian. Philip Deloria documents this quite well in his PLAYING INDIAN, published by Yale University Press in 1999. 

Playing Indian (doing what was perceived to be Indian things) arose out of a desire to carve out an American identity that, in various ways, emulated Native peoples in the US, thereby making an American identity distinct on an international stage. Boy scouts played Indian, and secret societies also played Indian. An affinity for doing that became pervasive in American society.

The question at hand is: did Native children do it, too, in the 1920s? How did Pearl know what that form of play looked like? She'd have to know about stereotypes of Indians that were used to play pirates/cowboys and Indians, wouldn't she? 

Where did Pearl get that information? 

Elsewhere in her book, Parry has white children pretending to be Indians by war whooping and shooting arrows at Pearl. With that scene, she suggests that the idea of playing Indian in the 1920s involved war whooping and shooting arrows at others. Given that all the way back in 1773, Bostonians war whooped as they threw tea into Boston Harbor, the war whooping part works. The shooting arrows? I'm not sure.

To carry Rosanne's explanation a bit further, wouldn't Pearl have been playing Pirates and Makahs, rather than Pirates and Indians? What would playing Pirates and Makahs look like? It helps to frame this in my own world, at Nambe Pueblo. Historically, our wars were with the Spanish, too, specifically the conquistadors and Catholic church. According to Rosanne's explanation, we would play Conquisator's and Indians, or, Conquistadors and Pueblos. 

The thing is, I can't imagine someone from Nambe who was the same age as Pearl in the 1920s, playing Conquistador and Pueblo, OR, Conquistador and Indian. 

I don't think playing Indian was something Native children did as a matter-of-course. Of course, I cannot know that definitively, and as many will point out, Parry's book is a work of fiction, so she can write what she wishes. Still, as her responses to my review indicate, she's striving to get it right. 

Where I end up is this: Even if we replace cowboy with pirate, I don't think Native kids played that way, and that is why I said "huh?" in my review. It doesn't ring true. 


Parry's response to Debbie, March 29 2014 at 3:21 PM CDT:

I'm not surprised at all that conquistadors and indians is not a game among tribes of the southwest. Where is the fun? I really can't fathom how a child would make a game of that. But you and your culture are a very long way from the Pacific northwest. The tribes here fought skirmishes among them selves over the centuries but they aren't a conquered people in the way that many other tribes in the US and Canada have been. They were skilled traders who had relationships across various cultures and international borders. Presumably there was occasional friction over fishing and fur trapping spots. But they never engaged the US army or the army of another nation. The suppression of the potlatch was a real problem but it was police-type work rather than an engagement of combat. They were never forcibly moved off their land though many have migrated to urban areas for economic reasons. 

Also conquistadores are not a part of American popular culture in the way that pirates are. Treasure Island was a widely read book in the 1920s. Errol Flynn didn't make his first pirate movie until the early 30s but there were quite a few other films, including a version of Treasure Island, in the pirate genre by the early 20s, so they would be in the mental repertoire of the era. And perhaps most importantly there's a memory of winning against the pirates which makes it a more appealing avenue for play. I did see little boys on the playground in Taholah playing pirates and indians with sticks for swords and clubs. I was surprised as I don't think I've ever seen another group of kids anywhere playing indians either alone or in combination with cowboy characters. But the boys connected it to the pirate story they'd heard and they were using the sort of pirate talk that was common in movies, so it would be a blend of history and pop culture I think, both in my own experience and in the story in the 1920s. 



Debbie's response to Parry, April 2 2014, 8:00 AM CDT:

Reading your first paragraph, one would think you are quite the expert in American Indian/First Nation history and culture, but your word choices and responses continue to point to an outsider perspective. 

Your "you and your culture" echoes your previous use of "civil rights." Your default is to use words/ideas that reflect a multicultural framework rather than a political one. When I point to your errors in that regard, you say things like "Absolutely" as if you agree and understand the centrality of sovereignty/sovereign nation status and what it means, but your continued use of words in that multicultural framework suggest to me that you don't really get it.   

Your discussion of potlatch is an example of an outsider characterization of Native history. It is wrong to characterize the US laws that prohibited Makah or any Native Nation from practicing our religion simply as "police" work. It was far more than that. It was the outcome of hundreds of years of aggressive action and warfare. Characterizing it as "police" work disconnects it from that history. 

As for Pueblo people, we are well known for the extensive trading networks we had with Native nations all up and down the coast, and we were never forcibly removed from our homelands. We are also known for the Pueblo Revolt of 1680 during which we drove the Spanish out of our homelands. 

Again--I don't buy your explanation for having Pearl play "Pirates and Indians" in 1920. You reference a story in which the Makah defeated the pirates. I have no doubt of that having happened. The Makah and Pueblo people fought to defend our homelands. But you want readers/me to think that Native children in 1920 would play games that white children most definitely play/played in recent decades? Doesn't ring true!     


Parry's response to Debbie, March 31 2014, 11:13 CDT:

Continuing our chat, I thought I'd say a little more about the petrogyphs and the mineral resources of the Olympic Peninsula.

In the story the petroglyphs play a key role in helping Pearl uncover and claim her vocation as a writer and historian for her tribe. The ownership of artwork is a matter I take very seriously and to use an actual rock carving done by a Makah artist and put it in my book with no way of asking permission or compensating that artist fairly for his work would simply be wrong. So instead I invented a group of rock carvings based the carving style and technique I've seen while hiking in this area but copying none of them. To my thinking this is the more just course. Taking what's not mine is wrong. Making things up is what a fiction writer does. When the cover team was meeting I sent them a bunch of photographs of the Olympic Peninsula so they could get a feel for the ecosystem. The pictures included one of a petroglyph which is on public land. I was so happy to see Richard Tuschman, the cover artist, incorporate a few petroglyphs in the cover image--inventing an element in the style of this art but not stealing what is not his to copy.

The other major plot element which is made up is the natural gas vent at Shipwreck Cove and the stories the tribe uses to keep children away from a dangerous place. The accusation that I've made up stories that don't exist is not correct. I've told no stories belonging to the Quinault or Makah, real or made up. I have pointed out something that is distinctive and interesting about their culture though. These tribes use monster stories to keep their children away from danger without having to hover over them constantly. I was struck by how much freedom young people in the community had during my time in Taholah. They walked all over town freely and without immediate supervision but still under the watchful care of the entire community. Places that might be dangerous, such as the ocean with it's powerful undertow and the dump which attracts bears, were bounded about, not with fences, but with scary stories that kept kids from wandering into harm's way. If there was a natural gas vent near the town (and there might be, there were places I was asked not to go myself when I lived there) then certainly there would be stories to warn children away.

As I say in the authors note the cove and its contents are my invention. Whether or not petroleum is present on the Quinault or Makah reservations is something you'd have to ask them about. Each tribe has a natural resources department and they are the ones to speak (or decline to speak) about their reservation lands. Natural gas is present all over the Olympic Peninsula but it's not abundant enough that anyone has drilled for it so far. Prospecting for oil and natural gas was very common in the 1920 and business men with an eye to a quick profit were often unscrupulous in acquiring mineral rights to land. This is not only an injustice directed toward Native Americans. Many white farmers and ranchers fell victim to their swindles as well. And frankly, I'm tired of stories that cast Native Americans as the hapless victim. I wanted a story where they won and did so, not in some wildly unrealistic battle or singlehanded act of heroism, but in the manner that most of life's battles are won: with words, and community, and the hard work of many years.

Debbie's response to Parry, April 4 2014, 11:50 AM CDT:

Maybe it would be wrong to use an existing petroglyph, but that depends on what you did with it. 

What you did instead is definitely problematic because, to use your word, you invented something and labeled it as being Makah. What you invented is based on existing petroglyphs. What you (and Richard Tuschman) have done is inject your thinking and your ideas into Makah ways of viewing the world. You're labeling that invention as Makah. If this was art that you or Tuschman wanted to sell on the open market as "Makah" art, you'd be in violation of US law that prohibits non-Native people from labeling their work as Native (or in this case Makah). That law does not cover literature, but the principles have broad application. 

Technically, you are correct in saying that you did not make up and tell a "monster story" about natural gas vents in the place you made up (Shipwreck Cove). A reader will not find that story in the pages of your book. However! You did make up a "monster story" and put it into the minds of your characters. You made up that story to motivate your characters.

You created the existence of the oil and gas so that you could tell a story about exploitation of Native people. To explain how Pearl would not know about that area, you created a story in her mind that would keep her from going there. For those who haven't read the book, here's that part:

Mr. Glen (the oil man who is masquerading as a collector) asks Pearl to take him to Shipwreck Cove. She doesn't want to go there, saying "It's dangerous up there." He replies, saying "Your demon stories don't scare me" (p. 144). On page 146:

When I was younger and I passed the trail to Shipwreck Cove, I wanted to sneak down and discover its secrets. Charlie and I made a game of guessing what sort of unnamed monster lived there and the vengeance he would take if we disturbed his home. But now, as I set out on the forbidden trail, even with the solid company of my oldest cousin, I felt dread grow.

See? The story is there, even if you haven't put it on the page itself. On page 148, Pearl asks Henry (Pearl's oldest cousin) what makes the awful stench in Shipwreck Cove. He tells her "Grandpa would call it a power of the earth." 

In your last paragraph above, you say that you're "tired of stories that cast Native Americans as the hapless victim" and that you wanted "a story where they won and did so, not in some wildly unrealistic battle or singlehanded act of heroism, but in the manner that most of life's battles are won: with words, and community, and the hard work of many years." 

There are--as you've pointed out elsewhere in this conversation--examples of the Makah doing just that! They've won many battles. But you've chosen not to tell those stories because you think that they should tell those stories. With that in mind, you made up a story where they win, but in making up that story, you commit several wrongs. 

I know you mean well, and that you meant well in creating Written In Stone. As I hope this extended conversation shows, a lot can go wrong if you have an insufficient understanding of Native people and sovereignty. 

Today, tribal nations have developed/are developing protocols describing what they will agree to, and what they expect from researchers who wish to do research on that particular nation. On a global scale, the United Nations issued the Declaration of the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. 

In short, good intentions are not enough. 


Parry's response to Debbie, April 5 2014, 2:55 PM CDT:

Debbie, I'd love it if you'd include the title of the US law to which you are referring and a link to the text of the law if it's available.

Here is a link to the text of the Declaration of Rights of Indigenous Peoples by the United Nations. http://www.un.org/esa/socdev/unpfii/documents/DRIPS_en.pdf

I think both will be valuable to those following the conversation. Article 11 of the UN declaration is most pertinent to our conversation here, although the whole thing is useful reading.

I think it's worth thinking about why literature was left out of the US law Debbie has referenced. It's also important to bear in mind that the tribes involved in the story were consulted (as the UN declaration recommends) and had ample opportunity to object to the publication of the book. They did not object prior to publication or after. They did offer valuable information and support. 

Being an member of the Nambe Pueblo in Arizona does not give Debbie the standing to speak on behalf of the Quinault and Makah who live in Washington. Nowhere in her remarks has she referenced the wishes of the tribes involved, Nor have I seen any indication that she's ever spoken to somebody from the tribe, let alone lived and worked there and consulted with them over a period of many years as I have in the writing of Written in Stone. They are well able to speak for themselves and in presuming to speak for them Debbie has overstepped her role as a book reviewer. 

However, since I believe she also has good intentions I'm willing to engage her in this conversation and in particular because I believe her methods are undermining her goal of increasing books for young readers by Native American authors. It's an important goal. I'd like to see lots of young Native American writers nurtured all the way to publication by a major publishing house and also publication by their own tribes. One of the major factors in deciding whether a book will be acquired is the comparison to similar titles. So if a Makah or Quinault author would like to publish a book (probably a better book than this one) the publisher will, after making sure its well written and carefully researched, look and see how my book sold before deciding whether to publish their book and how much of an advance to offer. Whether or not that's fair is a side issue. It is how publication decisions get made regardless of the race of the author. It's an important consideration for anybody working in the area of multicultural fiction to bear in mind. Future publishing decisions are made on past sales performance. 

If you are a librarian who wants to see more books with non-white characters then you need to buy those books with non-white characters which are currently in print. If you are a librarian who wants to see more books with a brown child on the cover, you have to buy the books that are available now, not because they are perfect, but because they are a step down the path you want to go. You might never get a seat in the committee that decides what goes to print and what doesn't, but your purchase is a vote they can hear loud and clear. 



Debbie's response to Parry, April 5 2014

A short response for now... 

The law you asked about is the Indian Arts and Crafts Act of 1990. I'll see if I can find out why it does not apply to literature. Why do you think literature was left out?

I'd like a bit more information about who you consulted with. Did you go before the tribal council of the Makah or Quinault? 

Nambe is in New Mexico, not Arizona. 

We're absolutely at odds, Rosanne, in the ways that we view this book. 

You find that I've overstepped my role because I point out the sorts of things that Native critics say, and have been saying, for a long time. My work is widely respected, by Native and non-Native people and organizations, too. John D. Berry, long-standing and former president of the American Indian Library Association, currently has my site as the featured page at the Native American/First Nations Facebook page, saying "it does not get any better than this blog." A few weeks ago, one of the most acclaimed Native writers, Simon Ortiz, invited me to give a lecture in 2016 at one of the most prestigious lecture series in the country. 

More later... 

Debbie's response to Parry (continued): April 6 2014 at 5:58 PM CDT:

You're right--future publishing decisions are made on past sales performance. 

Because I think that buying books by Native writers is important, I encourage people to buy Joseph Bruchac's Hidden Roots, Louise Erdrich's Birchbark House series, Eric Gansworth's If I Ever Get Out Of Here, Cynthia Leitich Smith's Jingle Dancer, Tim Tingle's How I Became A Ghost, or any of the books I recommend on AICL.  

I also encourage people to buy books by non-Native writers that have written excellent books. Debby Dahl Edwardson's My Name Is Not Easy is one example. Fatty Legs by Christy Jordan-Fenton and her Native mother-in-law, Margaret Pokiak-Fenton, is another. 

Of the Native writers I listed, Bruchac and Tingle have stepped outside their own nations and written books about Native people of other nations. They do so from a space that is thoroughly grounded in an understanding of Native people and history. When I read their books, sovereignty and treaty rights are at the core of what they write. They aren't influenced by people like "Chief Lelooska" and the don't say "civil rights" - they say Native rights, or treaty rights.  

The problem you and I are having, Rosanne, is that we approach this discussion from two very different positions, traditions, and histories. 

I was born at an Indian Hospital. I was raised on a reservation. The land my home is on is land that has always been Nambe land. I taught Native children for many years in Oklahoma and New Mexico. In graduate school, I was a key figure in the movement to get rid of "Chief Illiniwek" -- a mascot created by white fans who maintained that we (Native people) should feel honored by it. 

My identity and activism aside, I am steeped in Indigenous scholarship that looks critically at issues of representation and appropriation. I've taught and studied the works of our most esteemed Native scholars, including Vine Deloria Jr., Elizabeth Cook-Lynn, and Geary Hobson. I've read the literature written by the most powerful Native writers, including Simon J. Ortiz and Leslie Marmon Silko. 

Within children's literature about American Indians, I studied and learned from the work of Native scholars like Lisa Mitten, Naomi Caldwell, and Lotsee Patterson, and non-Native women like Beverly Slapin, Kathleen Horning, and Ginny Moore Kruse, who have studied this body of literature and offer tremendous insights as well. 

Right now, I'm reading An Indigenous Peoples' History of the United States, by Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz, and Recognition, Sovereignty Struggles, and Indigenous Rights in the United States, edited by Amy E. Den Ouden and Jean M. O'Brien. 

I could go on.   

The point is, I read and evaluate children's literature from a specific perspective that is grounded in Native Sovereignty and Native Nation building. That means I want the very best for Native and non-Native readers. 

I think you do, too, but we disagree on what "the very best" looks like. 

I encourage you (and any writers who are reading this conversation) to go to Native Studies conferences. There are many. I gave a keynote at the Native American Literature Symposium a few years ago. You would likely gain a lot by going there, given that it is literature-specific. You could go to the conference of the Association of Tribal Archives, Libraries, and Museums. Or, the Native American and Indigenous Studies Association's conference. There are many options.

Parry's response to Debbie, April 7, 2014 at 11:29 AM CDT:

Well I do think we are at odds on the issue of who can write a book with Native American characters and who can speak on behalf of a tribe. But I also think we have many objectives in common including increasing the number and quality of books with Native American characters in them. If I had no respect for your work or your objectives, Debbie, it would be simple enough to ignore you. I am here and engaging in this conversation because I think that the issues you raise are important ones, well worth a serious author's consideration. 

For example, I think an author does well to consider the ownership and purpose of art used in a story. Before I wrote the chapter in which Pearl finds the petroglyphs I spoke to many neighbors and parents of my students. Those conversations tended to be more general about how old the petroglyphs were and why they were made. I wasn't a writer at the time, just a curious hiker and a teacher wanting to understand her students and their culture as fully as possible. Later when I was thinking about the book I spoke to people at the Makah Cultural Research Center and learned what I could about what the carvings meant to them historically and in the present. I also learned a truly heart-breaking story about a stretch of cliff face with hundreds of petroglyphs on it which was dynamited away without notice to the tribe in order to make a civil defense highway. Later still when I was vetting full drafts of the story I went back to the Quinault language and culture teacher and the Makah and Quinault historian who agreed to help me with the work. They gave me unpublished doctoral research and other materials held by the tribe which answered many of my questions and rounded out my understanding of many of the issues surrounding my story. I read everything publicly available in print on petroglyphs and spoke to some folks at the Burke Museum in Seattle about archeological dating of the Olympic coast petroglyphs. They also had a perspective to share on how those carvings are similar and different from other petroglyphs of North America. I went to a symposium on petroglyphs in Portland which drew academics, and artists both Native American and not. I learned about ancient tools and how the carvings were most likely made. I was particularly interested in the comments of Pat Courtney Gold, a Wasco fiber artist of considerable reputation. She has used motifs in her work from the Columbia River petroglyphs.

Pat Gold was encouraging people to think of the petroglyphs not so much as long dead artifacts to prove the existence of some facet of a tribe's ancient existence but rather as living works of art. The carvings are not signed, the original carvers are long gone and their original purpose is not in the current oral tradition, but what is knowable is the artistic choices of the carver: color, style, placement, subject and so forth. That can be known and studied just as you would study any other artist in the world. 

In all my research I found nothing to indicate that petroglyphs had a sacred or set aside purpose beyond being works of art. They quite naturally became way finding markers over time. But there was nothing to suggest that I'd be using them unfairly in the book. In all my conversations, nobody acted uncomfortable or evasive when discussing the petroglyphs. If they'd turned out to be in current or historical use as a sacred object or shrine, then I'd have left them out of the story as I have left alone other elements of Quinault and Makah culture which are not mine to share. My sources were not at all shy about telling me where I was searching for information that didn't belong in the public sphere. I kept the story element with the petroglyphs and had Pearl respond to them, as Pat Gold suggested, as works of art which inspire her to reflect on her life and her purpose and which are a source of encouragement and connection. I think Debbie is correct in encouraging authors to think carefully about the content of a story and research things thoroughly. But she is not correct in assuming that I haven't done my research or that I am incapable of understanding cultural and spiritual nuances. Her experience in working with the issues is impressive and her advocacy is vital. But all of her scholarship in the broader issues of Indigenous people does not make her an expert on the particular tribes in my book nor does it make her their designated spokesperson. 

When I was growing up my grandfather lived with me. He and I spoke German together and he had much to teach me about his childhood in Berlin. When I moved to Bavaria shortly after his death I couldn't understand a word my neighbors said at first. Their accent, turn of phrase, and vocabulary was completely different from what I'd learned at home and at school from my Berlin born and educated German teachers. The food and many of the social customs were equally foreign. It would have been easy to say, they aren't speaking "real German" and converse only in English which they were all capable of and willing to do. But I'm glad I did the work of listening and learning the Swiss and Italian-influenced vocabulary that infuses Bavarian German. I had a richer and more interesting time there than I would have otherwise. I'm not surprised that elements of Written in Stone didn't ring true to Debbie. Her tribe belongs to a different ecosystem, and a different language group. Being a white person doesn't make me an authority on all white people. When I wrote a Soviet soldier character from Estonia in an earlier book I did just a thorough a job of researching his cultural, political, spiritual, and historical background. Even when I am writing well within my own culture I have other people vet the details because my perspective on my own culture is a limited one. 

That I've made up a petroglyph in the story does not harm or diminish petroglyphs currently in existence. Nor does it prevent a Quinault or Makah writer for publishing their own books. It's my hope that many of them consider writing and that many more stories set in this region are published. Among the excellent recommendations Debbie made there is not one person writing from the perspective of the coastal tribes of the Pacific Northwest. I'd like to see that change. If my book and this conversation about it can be a vehicle for that change then it's effort well spent.

Debbie's response to Parry, April 7, 2014

I did not say you can't write a book with Native characters, so we're definitely not at odds on that. Anyone can do that. Many have. Some do it well, others don't. 

In my review, I pointed you to an article describing protocols for doing research on their reservation. Here's what the article, written by the director of the Makah Culture and Research Center says:

The Makah Tribal Council has authorized the MCRC Board of Trustees to screen and oversee the non-Makah research that takes place on the reservation. Prior to any fieldwork on the Makah Reservation, researchers are required to submit a packet to the MCRC Board of Trustees which includes a resume and a detailed account of the nature and objectives of the proposed research. After reviewing proposal materials, the MCRC can (and has) refuse research on the ground that the subject is culturally inappropriate. The board or staff may decide to assist in retooling the research design (for example, such that it includes the participation of Elders or alters the approach to Elders), or they may choose to advise or direct researchers toward rich resources of which they are unaware. The MCRC staff is also responsible for advising researchers that they must follow the MCRC protocol for gathering oral histories.

Approval from the Makah Board dictates that a final copy of the research needs to be deposited at MCRC and a report made before the Makah Tribal Council. In this way MCRC acts as a repository for research that takes place on the reservation, ensuring community accessibility. In part, this ensures against what a former board member described to Erikson as "the helicopter effect." He asked, "Do you know what the 'helicopter effect' is?" You, and the information you gather, get into the helicopter and fly away. That's it." 

Did you do that? 

When I objected to your creation of petroglyphs that you labeled as Makah petroglyphs, I did not say anything about them being sacred. As you said above, your sources told you petroglyphs aren't sacred. Your research said as much, too. You tell us that Makah petroglyphs are art that "has no purpose beyond being works of art" and that later, they were used as wayfinders. 

For a lot of tribal nations, petroglyphs do have sacred qualities and access to them is restricted. They aren't talked about because experience shows that collectors will try to take them. This was the case last year in California. 

I did an Internet search using "Makah petroglyphs" and "sacred" and got several hits about the Wedding Rocks. The same language is used across the sites: "Respect these historic and sacred artifacts." 

Based on your research, however, that is an incorrect statement. I'd like to see your source. 

You've indicated you have a strong relationship with Makah people and you want to see more books about them. I do, too. You're published by a major publishing house and you give writing workshops. Are you currently mentoring any Makah writers? Or Quinault writers? Or introducing them to your editors?

Comment from Parry, April 8, 2014 at 12:51 PM CDT:

I have a final thought here on the issue Debbie raised about the work of Lelooska. The issues surrounding what it means to be adopted into a tribe are complex and vary a lot among Indian nations, but this topic seemed to hit a nerve so I didn't want to leave her concerns unanswered. To be clear, Lelooska is not in the story and is mentioned briefly in the author's note. Lelooska himself died in the late 1990s and his work is carried on by the Lelooska Foundation. 

I'm well aware, as Debbie has mentioned, that Lelooska was adopted into one of the bands of the Kwakwaka'wakw (also known as the Kwakiutl) tribe of British Columbia. Not everyone enjoys his art and not everyone likes the living history programs that he has provided in Washington for almost 40 years. I'm not interested in changing Debbie's mind on this point. But here is why I disagree with her. 

The right to tell a traditional story with its accompanying song, dance, and regalia is conferred in a potlatch. Lelooska's right to share the stories he does was given to him by Chief James Aul Sewide and witnessed and agreed to by all tribal members and neighbors present at the potlatch. If they did not wish for Don Smith to become Chief Lelooska they could have chosen not to come to the potlatch. That they did so, is all the evidence I need to determine if he is doing this work fairly and in keeping with the traditions of the Kwakwaka'wakw. The tribe had the opportunity to deny the Lelooska Foundation the right to perform their living history programs after Lelooska died. But they came to the potlatch for his brother Tsungani and again conferred on him the ownership of the stories his family continues to present to the public. 

I received an email just last week from the head of the planning team who was hired by the Quinault to relocate the village of Taholah out of the tsunami inundation zone. My book was recommended to him by somebody from the tribe as a vehicle for understanding them better. He’s aware of the weight of this project, to move a village site more than a thousand years old. He and his team want to make sure that what they design really serves the tribe well. Simply sticking in some local art at the end of the process isn’t what they want. They want to really think through with the community what their village needs in order to be a home to them. And so the book is a vehicle for thinking and talking about what the land and ocean and river and lake means to the community. Not because it’s a perfect representation of Quinault and Makah culture, they already have non-fiction materials aplenty for that purpose. It does what fiction does best, it invites reflection and conversation.


The bottom line for me is that each tribe gets to decide for themselves what is an acceptable representation of their culture. One of the reasons I chose the Quinault and Makah rather than one of the many smaller tribes in the area, is that they are well-accustomed to speaking up for themselves at a national and international level. If something about my book bothers them, I'm confident they will say so publicly. So far they've had no criticism of the book. The community in Taholah has invited me to come and celebrate it with them later this spring. The curator of their historical collection recommends the book to people who are interested in learning more about that tribe. That is all the endorsement I need.


Debbie's response to Parry: April 10

Ah... so you've circled back to Lelooska/Don Smith. 

He is not in the story, but he had enough of an impact on you that you recommend his books and his performances in the 'for young readers' portion of your book. You seem unable to step away from what he/his family says on its website. You're only parroting what you read there. Did you cross check that information as part of your research process?  

I read the website, too. Based on my study and experience, it raised several red flags that were easily affirmed in several places. One is Chris Friday's biography, Lelooska: The Life of a Northwest Coast Artist.  As a child, Friday was a friend of the family, and therefore felt an affinity and conflict in writing about Don Smith's identity. Did you read that biography? Or anything else about Lelooska/Smith other than what the website says? If yes, what did you read? 

The Makah website and the Quinault website do not link to Lelooska. The Makah museum does not sell his books. 

You are on thin ice when you put forward words of praise for him. 

What curator recommends your book? Of what institution? Can you give me a name? Where will you be for this celebration? 


Parry's response to Debbie: Monday, April 21 at 4:01 PM CDT:

The role of an author's note is to help readers round out the material in the book with more information. To be of use the information must be both as accurate as possible and widely accessible. In my research, I used some unpublished materials from the tribes that were specific to their cultures. Much as I'd like to share those documents, since the stories are more accurate to the Quinault and Makah cultures, but those documents aren't accessible to the public. The Lelooska stories, on the other hand, are in the vein of this story telling and illustration tradition and can be found in many libraries and on line. When a better resource becomes available, I'll amend the author’s note. As I mentioned before, if you, Debbie, or any of your readers are aware of a better resource for traditional stories from any of the tribes of the Pacific Northwest, please let me know.

When describing the regalia and dance in the book I worked from Quinault and Makah performances I've seen while living in Taholah and visiting Neah Bay. If these tribes had their own living history programs then of course I'd send readers there. But they don't. The living history programs by the Lelooska Foundation are the closest example of song, story, and dance in the region. Living history is not the same as real life practice. I have confidence that just as people understand the difference with a place like Colonial Williamsburg, so my readers will see the performances of the Lelooska Foundation for what they are. For most people it's the only way they'd ever be able to see this type of dance in performance. 

But here's what I'm listening for and not hearing in our conversation about the Lelooska Foundation. (It's entirely possible this is due to thick-headedness on my part.) I'm not hearing that his claim of adoption is false or that a specific element of his performances is inauthentic or that the art is created under false pretenses. If legal action has been taken against them Under the Indian Arts and Crafts Act of 1990 or if there was a request from the Kwakwaka'wakw for him to cease and desist from his performances, then I'd gladly withdraw any mention of him from the authors note. 

Here's what I have seen of the work of the Lelooska Foundation that makes me think they are a legitimate source of information. I've seen the show 5 times over the last 40 years, They have been performing essentially the same small group of stories they have always performed. If they were adding new stories every year or "jazzing up" the performance to make it more commercial, I'd be concerned. If they were claiming to be born into the tribe rather than adopted, I'd be concerned too. If they represented the performances as an actual potlatch rather than a living history exhibit or if they were diverging from the traditional form line style of art, I'd not recommend them. 

I do know that there are several different bands of the Kwakwaka'wakw (I think 15 altogether) and at least one of those bands doesn't like the notion of traditional dances being used as living history exhibits. So that is of some concern. But disputes within a tribe are not uncommon. Even a single Indian nation will have a diverging views among its members. But perhaps there is more to that argument than I know. If the nation as a whole has requested the Lelooska Foundation to stop I'd love to hear about it. These performances have been going on for more than 40 years. The Indian Arts and Crafts Act has been in place for the last 24 years. In all that time I've never heard of the Kwakwaka'wakw taking either an internal to the tribe method or an external legal method to stop the Lelooska Foundation. I find that persuasive, although I'm still willing to be persuaded otherwise if you have information I haven't considered.