SLJ Column: "A DIRTY LITTLE SECRET"

Over at School Library Journal's website, there's a column about self-censorship that is worth a look. It's provocative title is "A Dirty Little Secret."

The bulk of the column is about what does not get bought by librarians. The columnist, Whelen (a senior editor at SLJ), writes about their fears and anxieties. Fear of parents, school boards, community members, and students who will object to books with sexual content and gay themes. To avoid confrontation, they do not buy the books.

Rather than provide students with books that reflect reality, then, librarians play it safe. In effect, the librarians are choosing to let the gay students suffer. Is it really that simple? Preserve ones self and well-being, one's job? It's easy to rationalize the decision... "If I avoid that book, I avoid trouble and keep my job, and I can work subtly on this topic in other ways..."

The article also includes a brief mention of a writer who wrote a book about the Trail of Tears. Her publisher asked her to "...tone down her criticism of Andrew Jackson and his treatment of Native Americans..." I don't know the book at all, so can't comment on it one way or another. It is called The Trail of Tears: An American Tragedy, by Tracy Barrett. Rather than change what she wrote, Barrett went with another publisher.

Tone it down? Right! Let's not tell anyone, especially children, that our presidents did terrible things!

The SLJ column calls this decision not to buy a book "self-censorship." In education circles, this is akin to "the selective tradition" or "the hidden curriculum."

Whatever label we use, it is more than just fear and anxiety at work, it is the affirmation of the status quo, an unspoken, and generally unaware desire to perpetuate and preserve a certain image of America. A certain false image that hurts us all as individuals, as members of our communities, and as citizens of the United States.

How long will we deceive ourselves?

3rd post: Capaldi bio on Montezuma

From the archives, I found a copy of the letter from Holmes to Montezuma. Dated August 31, 1905, it reads:

My Dear Sir:
I am very desirous of procuring a brief biographical sketch of yourself for incorporation in the “Handbook of the Indians” to be published by this Bureau, and shall be greatly obliged if you will furnish the necessary data for this purpose. As the first part of the work is now being put in type, I shall appreciate any effort you may make to furnish the sketch at your earliest opportunity.
Very truly yours,
H. W. Holmes
Chief

When Montezuma wrote back to Holmes on October 7th, 1905, this is how he started:

My dear Friend:-

I am sorry that I delayed your request of August 31st.

In her presentation of Montezuma's letter, dated October 7, 1905, Capaldi starts with this:

My dear friend,

I know that you are gathering information on me and what befell my people. I am, therefore, delighted to answer your questions. I hope that what I write will add knowledge, acceptance and understanding for all.

In comparing her presentation of the letter to the letters exchanged between Holmes and Montezuma, I don't like what she did. I wish Capaldi had not used this technique, pulling Montezuma's words from several documents that span many years, weaving them (she says "I interwove") into the original letter to, she says "more fully present" his life. She says "I have made every effort to be true to the original sources and have only added brief phrases to make the text flow smoothly."

I'm really uncomfortable with Capaldi putting words in Montezuma's mouth. She tells us in her notes that she has done this, but that doesn't work for me.

I wish Capaldi had written this book more like the books in the Diaries, Letters, and Memoirs series published by Capstone Press, where the primary material is clearly set apart from additional information that does what Capaldi wanted (more fully present the person's life).

2nd post: Capaldi's biography of Carlos Montezuma

A few days ago I wrote my initial thoughts about Gina Capaldi's picture book biography, A Boy Named Beckoning: The True Story of Dr. Carlos Montezuma, Native American Hero. The phrase "true story" leaped out at me, as did Capaldi's note, in which she said she drew from various documents written by Montezuma.

Today, I'll lay out comparisons between Montezuma's letter (I found a copy yesterday) and Capaldi's presentation of that letter.

The opening paragraphs...

The first paragraphs of Montezuma's letter:

My dear Friend: -

I am sorry that I delayed your request of August 31st.

I am a full-blooded Apache Indian, born about the year 1866 or '67 some where [sic] near the Four Peaks, Arizona Territory.

The Apache tribe roamed at will the country covering Ft. McDowell, Camp Date Creek, Prescott, Canon of Colorado, Ft. Defiance, Ft. Apache, San Carlos andSuperstition [sic] Mountains, for the Indians whom I have found at these places over thirty four years ago on my way east spoke the same dialect as I did. Since then the Apaches have been divided into various tribes.

My distant relatives are known as the Mohave Apaches;but [sic] the real Mohave Indians have a didtinct [sic] language of their own and were enemies to the Apaches.

For five years I lived in a most primitive state with my people-a band of about one hundred and fifty souls. Fortunately I was captured by the Pima Indians in the month of October, 1871 from the plateau known as Iron Peak, 10 or 12 miles north-west of the great Silver King mine;about [sic] 60 or 70 miles north-east of Florence and about 40 or 50 miles west of Globe in the Superstition range of mountains.

Page 4 of Capaldi's book includes an illustration of the letter she created as the framework to write the biography. Her presentation of this letter reads:

My dear friend,

I know that you are gathering information on me and what befell my people. I am, therefore, delighted to answer your questions. I hope that what I write will add knowledge, acceptance and understanding for all.

I am a full-blooded American* Indian, born in 1866 near Fish Canyon Creek in the Arizona Territory. Until the time I was five years old I was called Wassaja which means "beckoning." My people, a band of about one hundred and fifty souls, roamed the red earth plateaus. We searched for food and lived in small grass huts called oo-wahs.

Life was safe and simple in my grandfather's day. It was deadly and dangerous in mine, for we had many enemies...

Debbie's thoughts/observations:

1. In Montezuma's letter, he does not use the word "oo-wahs" anywhere.
2. On page three of his letter, he says that his Indian name is "Was-sa-jah" and that it means "Beckoning."
3. Capaldi substituted "Apache" for "American Indian." The information the asterisk references is on the same page of her book. It says "When Dr. Montezuma wrote this letter to Professor Holmes, he stated that he was an Apache. Years later, he came to learn that he was not Apache but Yavapai." First, I don't think she should have made that substitution. Putting words in someone's mouth, especially about how they self-identify, is pretty egregious and presumptive. Second, why choose "American Indian" instead of "Yavapai"? Did she reason that her readers would know what "American Indian" means but be confused by "Yavapai"? Countless times, Native people have stated that they prefer the name of their tribal nation over the generic "American Indian" or "Native American." Using one of the latter obscures the diversity within those terms.
   

As Capaldi said in her author's note, she pulled from various documents Montezuma wrote. What she presents in the book as a letter is actually drawn from several places and times. Below are some specific comparisons. Somewhere, I may find that Montezuma actually wrote the words Capaldi brings into her presentation of the 1905 letter. Finding out where those words actually are, in document and in chronological time, requires more research. I'll do more of that research later today. For now, I'll look at the information in the opening pages:

Date of his capture:

• Montezuma's letter says "...I was captured by the Pima Indians in the month of October, 1871..."

• Capaldi's presentation of this point of his life is on page 6. The first line is "The Awful Night at Iron Peak Plateau; the second line is "October 1871" and the text reads: "In the month when the shadows run long..."

My thoughts? Did he say, somewhere, "when the shadows run long..." or is this Capaldi's creative hand at work?


Details of his capture:

• Montezuma's letter says "...our camp was raided at midnight. Thirty or more were killed and about 16 or 18 children taken captive. I was one of that number and with the others was taken down into the valley and carried off.

• Capaldi's presentation says "When it turned midnight, we were awakened by the sound of gunshots. There were screams everywhere. My mother and sisters ran for their lives. I scrambled under a clump of bushes and waited for the terror to end. But the full moon rose over the peaks, and its bright light revealed my hiding place. A strange man spotted me. He snatched me up by the arm and bound me with rope. I stood terrified and watched my village burn. Before that horrible night, I had never seen a horse. Nor had I ever seen a dead person. That night I saw both. that night I cried."

There's a lot of detail in Capaldi's presentation. I hope to find those details as I continue my research of his writing.


Where was his father during this capture?

• Montezuma says "During the raid all the braves of the village were at San Pedro on a mission for a Peace treaty, and as my father was on his way back he received, from an Indian runner, the sad news of the massacre of his little band by the Pimas. "

• Capaldi tells us "...my father and the other men rode away toward the rising sun to make peace with the U. S. Army." She places these words right before her description of the chapter, right after the words "when the shadows run long,".

A "Peace treaty," he says. Capaldi tells us "make peace with the U. S. Army." That phrase "make peace" is pretty common, or at least quite familiar to me. Sort of, that is, because I think I remember it a little different... It is "make peace with the Indians" --- not the U.S. Army. I'll check into Native use of the phrase in historical writings.


Immediately after his capture

• Montezuma's letter says: "Two days travel over the hot desert brought me to what is known as Black Water Camp, twenty-five miiles above the present site of Sacston [sic].

• On page 8, Capaldi presents "The Trek over the Hot Desert" again dated "October 1871." She says:
  

A Pima warrior lifted me upon a horse, and we rode for two days over the hot Arizona desert. When we reached their village, I was given pumpkin, corn, and horsemeat to eat, but I could not stomach these. Perhaps it was because I had never tasted these foods before. Perhaps it was because I was too scared.

There were close to four hundred men, women, and children in the village. I was afraid they might kill me and therefore resolved to do whatever I could to please them. During this time, the Pima were very kind to me.

On the third day of my captivity, I saw several Pima pointing at me. Some laughed. Others looked sad when my eyes met theirs. My captors painted their faces and began their war dance. The whole village danced around me. The men threatened me with spears and war clubs. The women threw dirty rags, and the children spat. An enemy captive was quite a prize--even if it was a mere sobbing child.

Everyone I knew and loved was gone. The Pima gave me a new name, Hejelweiikan, which means, "left alone."

Debbie's comments: Nowhere in his letter is there anything like what she describes. No face painting or war dance, and no spitting. It is possible he wrote something like this, perhaps, in Red Man. Capaldi cites Red Man in her bibliography. It was published at Carlisle Indian Industrial School. Though many read and use them as-is, scholars have shown that the Indian Helper, in particular, was heavily dictated and edited by teachers to portray the school as a happy place with happy students.

_________________________________

That's all for now..... Back to the archives.

__________________________________

Note, 3:35 PM, Jan 28, 2009:

I've spent the day in the archives. On the Bibliography page of her book, Capaldi says "I reconstructed the accounts of Montezuma's early life mainly from an interview he gave in 1921 to writer, N. M. Clark." I found that interview. It is called "Dr. Montezuma, Apache: Warrior in Two Worlds" and appeared in Montana: The Magazine of Western History, in volume 23, no. 2 (April, 1973). The interviewer, Neil M. Clark, prefaced the actual interview with this (excerpt from p. 57):

Late in the year 1921, I sat down with Dr. Montezuma in the front room of his home on the south side of Chicago. He was a man of medium height, solidly built, with eyes that were black and sometimes mystical. His hair was black and straight, his features unmistakably those of a pureblood Indian. There was nothing unusual about the room where we first sat down. But we had not been there long when Dr. Montezuma rose.

"Come with me, he said, "it is too civilized here." He led the way to his study. Here we might have been in a miniature museum. The walls were covered with pictures of the people and scenes of his race and his friends. On strings across the ceiling hung moccasins, skins, ears of corn, and a host of trinkets.

"This," Montezuma smiled, "is the medicine man's workroom!"

The interview corresponds pretty close to the episodes Capaldi relates. As she said in her note, she drew from this interview to present Montezuma's early life. Clark says that Montezuma stood and closed his eyes to tell this part of his story (excerpt from p. 58-59):

I, little WASSAJA, was asleep in our grass hut. I woke to the sound of war cries, the echoes of guns, and the crackle of fires. I ran for my life, and soon overtook my two sisters, the older one carrying the younger on her back. I passed them, but presently stumbled and fell. Too frightened to go on, I crawled under a bush, small than myself, and curled up, hardly daring to breath. I might have been safe there, but at that moment the moon rose above the rim of Iron Peak and revealed my hiding-place as if it had been mid-day. I caught sight of someone stealing toward me -- a stranger, I knew, for he had a queer high hat on his head, and a cape around his shoulders. I had never seen anybody clothed, and I could think of nothing but this was some god coming after me. The figure came close, put out a swift hand and seized my arm."

Here's another excerpt (p. 59):

Alone, friendless, frightened, I sat there and cried with all my might. Occasionally a warrior would make a motion at me with a tomahawk or a spear, and I would scream. The women kicked sand in my face and threw their dirty rags at me. The children spat on me. Their dance around the captive of the feared and hated Apaches, though the captive was only a small boy, lasted for an hour.

As I continue reading the Clark interview alongside the Capaldi book, in the context of what I know about Native voice, Native history, appropriation and interpretation of voice, I can't help wondering about this interview. The prefatory material about Montezuma characterizing his front room as "too civilized" and taking Clark to a room filled with "moccasins, skins" and other things does not match what I know about Montezuma and his thinking about American Indians and what he thinks progress would look like. Clark seems to portray a tragic Indian who cherishes an Indian existence. That does not sound like Montezuma, but I'm still reading, still studying.

Still working, still thinking....

Univ of North Carolina students share their thoughts...

Susan Gardner teaches "American Indians in Children's Literature" at the University of North Carolina. Over the course of the semester (Spring 2009), her students will use this space to post comments about what they're reading, learning and doing. Some of their comments may be in reference to things they've read on this blog. I've not hosted another professor's course before. I'm not sure how it will work, but we're going to give it a try and see what we learn. By "we" I mean me, Susan, her students, and readers of this blog.

Meyer's BREAKING DAWN...

Meyer's BREAKING DAWN...


... is CRACKING ME UP and GROSSING ME OUT.

I'm halfway through, laughing out loud in some parts. Is this a comedy?! A bad one, if that!!! It is stunning in its ludicrous dialogue and gratuitously bloody scenes.

I'm making notes on the parts about the Quileute's and the "treaty" between the vampires and the Quileute's --- there's interesting things to note about that, but my gosh!!! It is so..... STUPID.

Stop reading this if you're worried about spoilers.

During the birth, Bella vomits a fountain of blood. Jacob's nickname for the "little monster" is Nessie. Bella is furious that he nicknamed her after the Loch Ness Monster.

I am so glad I did not pay full price for this book. It's a joke! I know her readers were disappointed. I'll have to see why once I finish the book.

News from the American Indian Library Association

The Winter 2009 newsletter of the American Indian Library Association is out. I want to share some of it with you...

Chief Joseph Medicine Crow, author of Counting Coup: Becoming a Crow Chief on the Reservation and Beyond, was awarded the U.S. Bronze Star and the French Legion of Honor on June 25, 2008. Also in June, he was nominated for the Congressional Medal of Honor.

Naomi Caldwell, chair of their Youth Literature Awards committee said that Alexie's The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian will be coming out in paperback, and that its publisher (Little, Brown and Company) will provide free copies to every tribal library in the United States.

Initial Thoughts: Capaldi's A BOY NAMED BECKONING: THE TRUE STORY OF DR. CARLOS MONTEZUMA, NATIVE AMERICAN HERO

On page 3 of Gina Capaldi's A Boy Named Beckoning: The True Story of Dr. Carlos Montezuma, Native American Hero is her Author's Note. As I read through her words, I pause again and again. For example: she calls him a civil rights activist, but he was an Indian Rights activist. There is a difference. In her note, Capaldi tells us that this book is based on a letter Montezuma wrote. That letter was sent to a professor at the Smithsonian who was working on a book about American Indians. The first paragraphs of that letter are on page 5 of Capaldi's book. But, wait! Are those first paragraphs from Montezuma's letter? The last paragraph of Capaldi's note reads:

"Montezuma would later reveal other, more complete versions of his life through interviews, newspaper and magazine articles, speeches, and letters--all of which have been saved in various libraries in museums throughout the United States. These documents were my source for Dr. Montezuma's own words, which I interwove into the original letter to more fully present the doctor's life. I have made every effort to be true to the original sources and have only added brief phrases to make the text flow smoothly."

Hmm... I'm not sure about that... Combining his words from various places to "more fully present" his life story. Those details would definitely have been fine if they'd been part of the information she provides, but, presenting them as if they're part of the letter he wrote, the words he chose to share about who he is? That doesn't feel right.

Information provided on page 4, left side of the page reads:

"The Yavapai Indians have lived in central and western Arizona for centuries. In the days that they roamed the deserts of the Southwest, the men were mainly hunters and gatherers and the women were known for their intricate woven baskets."

They "roamed" the deserts? I bristle at the use of that word. Indians roam. Just like the deer and the antelope in the song Home on the Range... " Did the pioneers or the cowboys roam, too?

Curious, I did a few searches using Google:

On the web---

• Search phrase: "Pioneers roamed": 129 hits
• Search phrase: "Cowboys roamed": 938 hits
• Search phrase: "Indians roamed": 9,910 hits

I repeated the search in Google books---

• Pioneers roamed: 23 hits
• Cowboys roamed: 135
• Indians roamed: 688 hits

Interesting numbers, eh? Given the ubiquitous image of roaming Indians, it is not surprising that Capaldi did it, too. But that doesn't make it ok.

And the illustrations that accompany the text on that page?

Above the text that says "roamed" is a black and white photograph that "shows a Yavapai family in the 1880s." The boy in the photograph is wearing jeans and a long sleeve shirt. The girls and women are wearing what look like calico dresses. Capaldi's illustration, which spans the double-paged spread, depicts a barefoot man and boy wearing breechclouts. The man carries a spear. To my eye, Capaldi's illustration of the man screams stone-age caveman.

Overlaying the illustration is the opening paragraphs of the letter that Capaldi uses as the frame to tell this story. But again, are these the words he actually wrote in that letter?

Ah, yes, some of you may say "HE used the word "roamed" in his letter..." In fact, he may have. Some Native people adopt(ed) words use(d) by white writers, but because of what Capaldi said in her Author's Note, we don't know if "roamed" is Montezuma's word or hers.

I'm searching for a copy of that letter. When I find it, I'll be able to make some comparisons.

To be continued...
_________________
Update: March 14, 2009

Capaldi's book was discussed two other times:
Monday, January 28
Sunday, Feb 1, 2009

Beth Kanell: Remarks on Jan 19

Yesterday, I posted a bingo card about cultural appropriation. A few minutes ago, Beth Kanell, author of DARKNESS UNDER THE WATER, posted a comment to a blog that starts out

"Don't sweat the Seale/Dow review..."

She follows that dismissal with "...Dow, whose standing as an Abenaki in Vermont is significant..." But then she goes on to blame Dow for the problems in the book! Kanell said

"....she [Dow] chose not to say a word back when her thoughts could have been incorporated in the story."

With those words, she suggests that she would have actually listened to Dow back then. But, her repeated dismissal's of Dow, Seale, myself and others who are critical of her book speak volumes about what she chooses to hear. If what we say has not affected her speech right now, I seriously doubt it would have mattered "back when" the book was in manuscript.

This writer's behavior is the perfect illustration of white privilege, but a particularly nasty form of white privilege. One that seeks to benefit from Native peoples, that tries to say she's rescuing or helping Native peoples, but then reaches out to tell us we're wrong to object to her.

Kanell's arrogance is stunning.

[Note: The blog she commented at is called Swiftly to the Top, at a post on historical fiction. In the event the owner of Swiftly to the Top takes down his blog, I've copied comments submitted there to the end of this post. See them below.]

----------
Update, 2:17 PM, CST

Kanell just replied to my comment on Swiftly to the Top, saying:

I listen, and I learn, always. But if I failed to stand up for the generous and kind people who invested research and thinking in this book, I'd be doing them a great disservice.

Thanks again, Pepe, for the review. I appreciate it, and I'm glad you gave your opinion. Read on!

Kanell's audacity is beyond words.

------------------------------------
UPDATE, 8:45 PM, Jan 19, 2008

Just in case Pepe (the owner of the Swiftly to the Top blog) decides to take down his site at some point, I'm copying (below) the entirety of the discussion from his site and will paste additional comments as they appear there.

Debbie Reese said...

Doris Seale and Judy Dow, both women with Abenaki identity, wrote an essay that is highly critical of DARKNESS. Their review is on my blog. americanindiansinchildrensliterature.net

December 7, 2008 3:48 PM

Beth Kanell said...

Great to see historical fiction on your blog -- thanks! M. T. Anderson rocks, and I'm definitely a Sarah Vowell fan. Don't sweat the Seale/Dow review too much; Dow, whose standing as an Abenaki in Vermont is significant, was one of an armful of Native Americans who saw the book while in manuscript, and she chose not to say a word back when her thoughts could have been incorporated in the story. But thanks to some other great folks behind the scenes, who helped me test both the history and the emotional truth of the story, The Darkness Under the Water came through. If you feel like looking at some more of the amazing Vermont history -- and wider! -- behind the story, take a peek at BethKanell.com. And thanks a lot, Pepe, for mentioning the book. Sorry it took me so long to catch up with you!

January 19, 2009 8:37 AM

Debbie Reese said...

"Don't sweat the Seale/Dow review..." I'm stunned at Kanell's words! By now, I would think she'd have taken feedback from myself and others to heart. She has not, as evidenced by these words. They only add to my impression that you really have no insight into what you've done. There's been lengthy discussion of Kanell and her book --- not favorable --- in many places. Please visit my site to see some of it. And there's a great deal happening, too, on livejournal. I'm at http://americanindiansinchildrensliterature.net

January 19, 2009 8:51 AM

 

Beth Kanell said...

I listen, and I learn, always. But if I failed to stand up for the generous and kind people who invested research and thinking in this book, I'd be doing them a great disservice. Thanks again, Pepe, for the review. I appreciate it, and I'm glad you gave your opinion. Read on!

January 19, 2009 12:14 PM

Debbie Reese said...

You're listening to Seale, Dow, myself and our critiques of your book? If you were, it seems to me you would not be saying "don't sweat" the Dow/Seale essay. You fault Dow for not providing feedback on your manuscript. That's a bit odd, considering she didn't have your manuscript prior to publication. And I see here you are no longer saying that you consulted Nancy Gallagher, the woman who wrote the book you drew from to write your novel.

January 19, 2009 12:33 PM

 

Beth Kanell said...

Sorry, Pepe, for the brief sideline here: Debbie Reese, here are the details you're missing: In 2005 I spoke by phone with researcher/writer Nancy Gallagher, and arranged to meet her in person to share with her the first draft of my first attempt to build a work of historic fiction that could draw some much-needed attention to the injustice of the Abenaki situation in Vermont. (Her book Breeding Better Vermonters shows how the situation developed.) We did indeed connect, enjoyed meeting each other, and I handed her a full copy of the manuscript. When I phoned her a month or so later, she said she hadn't yet finished reading it, found it interesting, and wanted permission to share it with her research associate, Judy Dow. I was honored, and of course agreed. So Ms. Dow, as far as I know, had the manuscript then, and was in discussion with Ms. Gallagher. When I took the entire book apart and wrote a new one, adjusting the time period and points of view to reflect history more clearly, and to craft a better story, I provided that manuscript also to Ms. Gallagher, with the same permission. Hence I have reason to believe that Ms. Dow had the new book at that time (2006). In early 2008, a group of women in my region formed a steering committee to promote a history conference for teens. Ms. Gallagher was one of us, and asked to bring Ms. Dow into the group also. Although Ms. Dow did not interact with the group e-mails or attend planning meetings, she was on every full-group circulation list and was well aware of The Darkness Under the Water, as I talked about it with the group as part of what I'd like to bring to the discussion. I telephoned Ms. Dow on Sunday Dec. 7, 2008, following her first concerned e-mails about the conference schedule, and learned from her of her review, which she said was already in several places online. As you know, I disagree with a number of points in the review, but every reader will see a book differently; we bring our own lives and experiences to our reading. In that telephone conversation, as I began to understand the pain that Ms. Dow brought to the book, I specifically told her that I was sorry that reading it had increased her awareness of that pain. Please do watch the book's web site for revised discussion questions later this month; the revision was triggered by listening to Ms. Dow, reading what she and Ms. Seale wrote, and reading the responses of others online. Your input is heard. And again, Pepe, thank you for your courtesy in sharing your blog space for this sidetrack on one are of the outreach that took place.

January 19, 2009 3:16 PM

Debbie Reese said...

Ms. Kanell: Do you know, in fact, if Gallagher gave Dow the manuscript? You seem to take silence as affirmation of your book. Elsewhere, you said you changed the discussion questions because of what Beverly Slapin said about them. Now you're saying you changed them because of what Dow and Seale said. Which is it? You're a white woman, trying to rescue Native history. Native people are telling you you've screwed up, yet you continue to defend the book! You "hear" and "listen" like a belligerent teenager. By the way, Kanell, I read your book, too, and am recommending that people not purchase it.

January 19, 2009 4:18 PM

 

Beth Kanell said...

Ms. Reese, sorry but this is going to have to be my last post on this topic for a bit -- so let me briefly say, I trusted Ms. Gallagher when she said she and Ms. Dow were already discussing the book. I've changed the web-site discussion questions because of input from different people on different questions -- as you know quite well, the questions that offended Ms. Slapin were changed within an hour of her explaining how she had interpreted them. In discussion with you last month, I said I'd make time to review all of them and rework them in mid January, and the Dow/Seale review certainly affects that work. I'm just waiting for one more person's related commentary to arrive; the revised set will post around the end of this week. I suggest that those of us concerned about miscarriages of justice work together to bring it forward. Since there has been so little attention to Vermont's period of scientific abuse of humanity, and its continued effects, I thank you for discussing and reading The Darkness Under the Water. By the way, I hope those of you "visiting" this discussion through other sites will take time to read the other material available here. Thank you, Pepe.

January 19, 2009 5:00 PM

 
Debbie Reese said...

I have permission from Nancy Gallagher to say that she 1) did not see DARKNESS UNDER THE WATER in manuscript form prior to its publication 2) if she had seen it, she could have offered corrections to the inaccurate portrayals in the book. So... Gallagher told you that she and Dow were discussing the book. What did Gallagher tell you about that discussion? If she told you nothing, then how can you---in good conscience---use her name? Aren't you embarrassed, Ms. Kanell?

January 19, 2009 5:09 PM

Debbie Reese said...

If you go over to my blog, you will see that I am sharing the comments Kanell makes here with my readers. I don't know what your traffic is like, Pepe, but I just rolled over 350,000 visits to my site. I've been blogging for 2 1/2 years. My readers include Native people across the United States and Canada, librarians, teachers, writers, professors, reviewers---all who come to my site to get Native and critical perspectives on books. Here's a post from Jean Mendoza: "Even if it were the case that Ms. Dow "chose not to say a word back when her thoughts could have been incorporated into the story" as Ms. Kanell claims: Based on her review of Darkness -- a substantial critique that makes a lot of sense -- my hunch is that Ms. Dow's thoughts would have been something like "Don't Write This Story." If Ms. Dow had said so, would the author have done what she asked? Judging by Ms. Kanell's comments about the review over the past several weeks, I have another hunch: that nothing Judy Dow, Doris Seale, or anyone else said would have dissuaded Ms. Kanell from seeing the book through. I will continue to take the critical review by Doris Seale and Judy Dow very seriously. Not "sweating it" so much as just really respecting it. I wonder if there's a day coming when no Native person will be willing to take a pre-publication look at any Native-themed manuscript by a non-Native writer under any circumstances."

January 19, 2009 5:55 PM

Debbie Reese said...

Judy Dow asked me to post this on her behalf: Sorry to burst your bubble, Beth. I never received your manuscript and only received an advance copy of DARKNESS UNDER THE WATER around Thanksgiving of 2008. That advance copy came to me from Nancy Gallagher, who passed it on to me because it was too terrible for her to finish. I, in turn, was so horrified by DARKNESS UNDER THE WATER that I shared that copy with Doris Seale and suggested Beverly Slapin read it as well. After all had read it, we decided to write the review, hoping to dissuade librarians from purchasing it. It is our intent to protect Abenaki children from reading this awful book. I have recently read the manuscript from your first book, DARKNESS UNDER THE ICE. I can understand why you took it apart and tried again. However, you still did not get it right. After Nancy shared with me her reactions to your book, I stopped communicating with you because I had decided that I did not want to be associated with your conference. About our Dec. 7, 2008, phone conversation, you write that you “began to understand the pain that Ms. Dow brought to the book, I specifically told her that I was sorry that reading it had increased her awareness of that pain.” Beth, you still don’t get it, do you? My problem is not the pain that I brought to the book, and it’s not that reading it has increased my awareness of the pain. It’s the pain that you caused by writing and publishing it. It’s not like me to be so direct, Beth, but it seems that that’s the only thing you understand. Your actions are continuing to bring pain to our Abenaki families and you need to stop. Judy Dow

January 19, 2009 6:47 PM

livejournal discussion on Cultural Appropriation

There's quite an active discussion on cultural appropriation taking place across livejournal communities (networks? --- I'm not familiar with livejournal).

Take a look at a Cultural Appropriation Bingo Game developed by an individual who's user name is Elusis. Click here to get to the page with the graphic. Elusis says it can be reposted with attribution, so here it is... And thanks, Elusis. (Update: Feb 22, 2013 --- The Bingo card at the link is no longer viewable. Don't know why. And, I made a larger image available today on my site. The one I had up before was too small to read.)

And click here to get to some of the discussion.

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UPDATE, 7:15 pm... I continue to read through livejournal's discussion, following links here and there. This one is.... what word to use... I don't know. THIS PERSON GETS IT. She got it after she spent some time on my blog. If I understand correctly, the writer created an online game that used the Pueblo Revolt. People tried to tell her not to do it. She did it anyway, but has now decided to stop. Do take time to read what 'kynn' says about writing, DARKNESS UNDER THE WATER, the Pueblo Revolt...

On Being Misled about Kanell's DARKNESS UNDER THE WATER

[Update: January 18, 9:45 AM, CST---A special welcome to readers from other nations, coming here from the livejournal community, where critical discussion of Kanell and her book is taking off.]

I regularly listen to Mark Kermode's film reviews on BBC. Recently he talked about promotional materials for Slum Dog Millionaire. He warned listeners that the promotional material did not accurately present the content of the film itself.

It reminded me of Beth Kanell's Darkness Under the Water. From the author and through promotional materials and reviews, we are told it is about the Vermont Eugenics Project.

Kanell publishes a blog called "Stories That Matter". In the blog's description, she says:

For her 2008 novel The Darkness Under the Water she wove together family stories of New England, the experiences of neighbors who knew what life was like here during the Vermont Eugenics Project, and a LOT of historical research.

And on May 6th, Kanell wrote:

Next week I'll be at the Vermont Library Conference in South Burlington, reading on May 13 and 14 in the author's cove, letting Molly Ballou tell you how it felt for her to be sixteen years old, living in a small Vermont village in 1930, when her Abenaki heritage -- which her parents had carefully turned into "being French Canadian," but which her grandmother still honors -- well, to make a long story short, Molly discovered that being Abenaki could mean being threatened by the Governor and Legislature of Vermont, and especially by the nurses being sent out into the communities to look for families who didn't match the ideal Vermont image.

The blurb on the publisher's website says

"This gripping, ultimately hopeful tale of an Abenaki-French Canadian girl in 1920s Vermont explores a dark history in New England history."

The reviewer at Kirkus says

"Kanell focuses on the Eugenics Project as it relates to the Ballou family, though she does make brief mention of this movement's overall impact in a note."

KLIATT's reviewer says

"Readers will be drawn into this historical story to learn about a time of discrimination against Native Americans that is not widely known."

And School Library Journal's reviewer notes that

"Although the true history of the Vermont Eugenics Project looms in the background, the story really centers around Molly's coming-of-age."

The Library of Congress information says the book's subjects include "Eugenics --Fiction" and "Abenaki Indians --Fiction." The summary says

"In 1930, sixteen-year-old Molly lives under the shadow of a governor who wants to sterilize people "unfit to be true Vermonters," such as her Abenaki family, while the loss of her family home, her mother's pregnancy, her first love, and other events transform her life."

But!

The book is not about the Vermont Eugenics Project. It's a melodramatic mystery set in the past that uses the Vermont Eugenics Project to, as the author said on child-lit, "create a climate of fear" for her characters to live within.

Create a climate of fear?!

That's a gross violation of the Abenaki people, what they endured then, and what they continue to deal with in the present day. I wonder if the Abenaki family Kanell references knows that she used their stories to "create a climate of fear"? She used that family, and she used that history to create a melodramatic mystery that is being marketed as historical fiction. She used them and she used it for her own purposes.

If you haven't read it yet, don't bother. If you plan to read it, stop reading now, because I'm going to give you the highpoints of the "story" Kanell tells... It strikes me, as I recount it, as a fast-paced TV reality show with lots of drama.

The star of this drama is Molly, a teenager.

Easter Sunday, 1930 (April 20th).
Molly finds out her mother is four months pregnant. From her visiting uncles, she learns that "...it is dangerous now to be an Indian..." (p. 27)

Sometime in June, on a Tuesday....
Molly finds her mother coughing and bleeding heavily "blood seeping through the skirt fabric...". Nurses are entering their yard (see the Dow and Seale essay for info about the nurses) and Molly asks them to help. Her mother tells the nurse that she is nearly seven months pregnant. Labor happens. The baby is dead. Smothered by the nurses? Stillborn? Kanell claims that the baby was stillborn and that the "handful of bleeding flesh" that the nurse "tugged... out of my mother's most private place" with the "sharp flash of a blade" was the afterbirth, but I'm not persuaded. Later, Molly says that her mother had died "...without pain, letting go of the lost babies, the shredded womb, the sorrows and pains." (p. 300) Why is the womb shredded?

On Wed and Thur...
Relatives arrive. Nurses come by, too, but Molly's father won't let them in.

On Friday...
Baby is buried.

On Saturday...
Molly goes to a dance. When she comes home her mother is gone. Molly, her father and grandmother find her mother at the river, crying, standing in a "small puddle" of blood.

July...
Molly takes over her mother's work as a laundress. She's been doing laundry from death of baby till end of June, and now, into July she continues to do the laundry.

Early August
Molly's father say's they'll "move next week" to their house across from the school.

Saturday, August 16th
Molly and her family move. Her mother is carried to the wagon.

Monday, August 17th
Pre-dawn storms cause Molly's mother to have nightmares. Lightning strikes their house by the river. It catches fire.

A Tuesday in September
Molly's mother feels strong enough to go upstairs. She lays down to nap in upstairs bedroom. Molly goes for a walk. Molly's grandmother naps in kitchen. Molly comes back, hears a scream and thuds, goes inside, finds her mother and the nurse at the foot of the stairs. Henry and Molly's father arrive; Henry suggests they take the nurse's body to the dam, throw it over the spillway.

Early November
While inspecting the dam, state inspectors find the nurse's body. They think she fell, and build a fence so others don't also fall. Molly's mother dies in her sleep, never learned about the nurse's death.

So.... what happens to this family? They live in fear, the mother is pregnant, they lose the baby, they are forced to leave their home, the night of their move the house catches fire, the nurse falls down stairs in their new house and dies in the fall, they conspire to hide the death, the nurse's body is found, the mother dies. Possible, yes, but plausible? No.

There are other aspects of the story that are not plausible. The ways that Molly speaks and thinks about her identity, for example. I'll save that post for another day.

If you're a teacher or librarian, save your money. Teach your students about the Vermont Eugenics Project, but don't do it with Kanell's book. She's only used the project to create a sensational story. Don't be misled. The Abenaki people, your students, all of us (in fact) deserve better than this.

Note:

There are several posts here on this blog, about DARKNESS UNDER THE WATER. I'm arranging them here, chronologically. Be sure to read comments to each entry.

December 5, 2008 - Seale and Dow essay on DARKNESS UNDER THE WATER
December 6, 2008 - A reader responds to Seale/Dow review
December 17, 2008 - Slapin's Open Letter to Kanell
December 18, 2008 - Kanell's Response to Slapin's Open Letter
December 19, 2008 - I read Beth Kanell's DARKNESS UNDER THE WATER
January 3, 2009 - "Darkness Under the Water: Questions and Comments" by Beverly Slapin

Good book for a cold day

Pointing, today, to Alan Sockabasin's terrific picture book, Thanks to the Animals. Beverly Slapin wrote a review of it; click here to read her review. And, I wrote about the companion audio for it. Click here to read that.

And... buy the book! For your classroom, your library, your son or daughter, granddaughter, grandson, niece, nephew.... Get it from Oyate.

Tim Tingle Storytelling at University of Illinois, Saturday, Feb 7

Posting today, an announcement from the Spurlock Museum, located at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. Tim Tingle is among my favorite writers. Top of my recommended list is his picture book, Crossing Bok Chitto.
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Winter Tales: Tim Tingle, Choctaw Teller

Saturday, February 7, 2009

Storytelling Concert

Join us for one of the Museum’s most popular annual events, a concert of American Indian tales, told during the winter months, the traditional time of telling. This year’s performance features Tim Tingle, an enrolled member of the Choctaw Nation of Oklahoma, a nationally renowned storyteller and speaker, and an award-winning author of Native American fiction and folklore. Winter Tales concerts are sponsored by an endowment from Reginald and Gladys Laubin and funded in part by the Illinois Arts Council, a state agency.

Location: Knight Auditorium, Spurlock Museum, 600 S. Gregory St., Urbana, IL

Time: 2:00 PM - 3:30 PM

Cost: $5.00

Pre-concert Workshop for Educators and Tellers

“Native American Storytelling for the Non-Native Teller”

Led by Tim Tingle; pre-registration required.

Location: Zahn Learning Center, Spurlock Museum

Time: 9:00 AM – Noon

Cost: $30.00

For further information, contact Kim Sheahan at (217) 244-3355 or ksheahan@illinois.edu

"Darkness Under the Water: Questions and Comments" by Beverly Slapin

On Friday, January 2, 2009 , Jean Mendoza referenced a children's literature listserv. She is talking about child_lit. That listserv discussion group started in the mid 90s. I've been following it since then and am glad that Jean and Beverly Slapin are on it, too. It can be a contentious place when we voice objections to books that misrepresent or stereotype Native peoples. Below is a post Beverly Slapin submitted to child_lit, in its on-going discussion thread about Beth Kanell's Darkness Under the Water. As a work of historical fiction, the book provides opportunities for fact-based analysis of its content, theoretical discussions of historical fiction as a genre, and, variations in response to the story based on identity of the reader.

Below is Beverly's email to child_lit, posted there on December 31, 2008. She is responding to remarks by three specific individuals: Debby Edwardson, J. L. Bell, and Beth Kanell. One of the functions of this site (American Indians in Children's Literature) is to provide easy access to a resource that looks critically at the ways that Native peoples are portrayed in children's books. Posting Beverly's email here gives access to some of the child_lit discussion for people who are not subscribed to child_lit.


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Darkness Under the Water: Questions and Comments
by Beverly Slapin


Debby Dahl Edwardson wrote (ChildLit, Dec. 29, 2008):

For better or worse, how readers perceive a book, how they "interpret one scene" carries far more weight than what the author intended. That the interpretation often says more about the reader than the writer is irrelevant. Trying to make sure that there is little room for misinterpretation is the writer's work, not the reader's.

I agree with Debby, exactly. A gifted writer can weave many levels of interpretation into a story, and may certainly leave readers with questions to ponder. Such readers may, after reading an especially well-written book, want to look back at a particularly beautiful and/or puzzling passage (or even the whole book) and think, “Wow! I didn’t get that the first time.” In Debby’s picture book, Whale Snow, the young reader is with young Amiqqaq, asking question after question, and being told at just about every turn: “You’ll see.” When Amiqqaq begins to understand that the “spirit of the whale,” the thing he is seeking, is “fat snow and strong wind…right here in my house, making people smile and laugh,” the young reader understands as well. In the case of Whale Snow, what writer intended is what the young reader perceives: Here is a little boy, secure and happy in the long arms of his extended family, learning what he needs to learn in a way that is appropriate for him and his culture.

In response to Debby Edwardson, J.L. Bell wrote (ChildLit, Dec. 30, 2008):

Here I think we're also discussing the critic's work, which is to read an author's creation with due care and respect. Ideally, a critic is more sensitive to alternative interpretations, creative challenges, and literary traditions than an average reader.

A critic may in the end judge that an author hasn't succeeded in any number of ways. A critic can find more layers of meaning in a work than the author intended, sometimes layers that undercut the surface and/or intended meanings. But critics who disregard parts of a work, or describe it or its history inaccurately, aren't being respectful to either author and readers.

As a critic, I give a book a thorough read. At least once, I read it at the level of the reader for whom the book is intended. If it’s a young adult book, I read it several times. If it’s historical fiction, I research the history. Often, the flaws in a book will jump out at me. I look at who the author is and what the author’s relationship is to the land, culture and community. I ask myself a lot of questions about a particular book, and I often communicate with friends and colleagues who may know more than I do about the land, culture, history and community in which the book is situated. Many of the reviews on which I work are collaborative. All of my friends and colleagues who critique children’s books do so with great care. We look at “alternative interpretations, creative challenges, and literary traditions,” and we look at much more.

Doris Seale, Judy Dow, and Debbie Reese are Indian women, teachers and scholars, and lifelong advocates for Indian children. We have collaborated many times together; they are at least as conscientious as I am, and, in many areas, far more knowledgeable. I’ve read Darkness Under the Water four times, and I know that Doris, Judy and Debbie have read it several times as well. Doris and Judy, as Abenaki women living in Vermont, are historians who have the lived experience of their families having been hunted down by the eugenicists. One can’t get too much more involved in a book’s subject matter than this.

In their critique of Darkness Under the Water, Doris and Judy verified their understanding of the historical events in the eugenics movement with historian Nancy Gallagher, who wrote Breeding Better Vermonters; I also consulted with Nancy, who gave me a deeper understanding of the history and “science” of eugenics. Based on a careful reading of Darkness Under the Water, consultation with a local nurse who gave me her interpretation of its medical aspects, more research, and further talks with Nancy and Judy, here are some questions and comments about the book and my analysis of Kanell’s post-publication interpretations of what she’s written.

Who were the nurses in Vermont?

Kanell writes (ChildLit, Dec. 12, 2008) that she based “the nursing visits in the story on those being made by the District Nurse, proudly supported by a local women’s club starting in 1912.” Nurses in Vermont in 1930 included those from the Visiting Nurse Association, the Red Cross, instructive district nursing associations and, of course, nurses in hospitals and institutions. Some of these nurses may have been knocking on people’s doors, but they were not in any way affiliated with the Vermont Eugenics Survey. There was never any connection between the VES and the State of Vermont. The nurses in Darkness Under the Water could not have been “state nurses.”

The women who interviewed Vermont residents for the Vermont Eugenics Survey were social workers, not nurses. They compiled the interpretive data that later were used by directors of institutions (including hospitals, prisons, reformatories, and training schools) to identify “degenerates,” “delinquents” and “dependents” as targets for sterilization. These social workers, who were welcomed into the homes of relatives of people they were investigating, pretended to be caring individuals while using bribery and manipulation to solicit the “information” they were charged with collecting.

What happened to Mama and her baby on the kitchen table?

In the context of the eugenics movement, Beth Kanell’s graphic, gory and sensationalized description of the medical procedure the nurses inflict on Mama would lead a reasonable middle reader (and this adult reader as well) to infer that Nurse Carpenter, with the assistance of Nurse Williams, “sterilizes” Mama after she gives birth. That Nurse Carpenter, with “eyes blazing,” says, “it has to be done,” reinforces this interpretation; as does Grandma’s assertion to Molly that “they cut her up on purpose. They don’t want Indian babies around here.”

A perusal of the Vermont Sterilization Law (1931) reveals some interesting, albeit abhorrent, information. It mandated that “idiots, imbeciles, feeble-minded or insane persons” were to be examined by two “competent physicians and surgeons not in the employment of the state” who would certify as to their suitability for sterilization; and the actual surgeries were to be performed by a third “competent physician or surgeon not in the employment of the state.” It also mandated that the men were to be sterilized by vasectomy; and women, by salpingectomy, or removal of the fallopian tubes. Prior to 1931, sterilization was illegal; and after 1931, for nurses, even “state nurses,” to sterilize someone at home would have been illegal.

Kanell writes (ChildLit, Dec. 12, 2008, italics mine):

“[S]ince I saw no evidence that nurses in this region would have performed eugenic sterilizations, even though doctors may have, I presumed that the nurses in the story would attempt to bring out the placenta and could have also attempted a clumsy…dilettation and curettage procedure.”

So if the nurses are not sterilizing Mama, why does Kanell have them whispering conspiritorially to each other? Why are Nurse Carpenter’s “eyes blazing,” and why is she saying, “it has to be done” in a way that implies fanaticism? Where did Nurse Carpenter get her “blade” (“a sharp flash of a blade”), and why is she tugging on “a handful of bleeding flesh” and wrapping a “handful of bloody something into a towel, along with the blade”? Why does Grandma insist that the nurses sterilized Mama (“They cut her up. There’ll be no more babies…they cut her up on purpose. They don’t want Indian babies around here.”)? And why does Henry Laporte agree with Grandma?

If the nurses are performing a “clumsy dilletation and curettage procedure,” there is neither dilation nor anesthesia, yet Mama gives only one “cry of pain.” The baby was delivered, the nurses say, “stillborn.” There is neither a placenta previa nor a placental abruption. So why is Nurse Carpenter hacking away at the placenta? If the problem is that Mama is hemorrhaging, Grandma, as a traditional doctor and herbalist, would know what to do.


Did Mama have tuberculosis?

Kanell writes (ChildLit, Dec. 12, 2008):

“I base the likely stillbirth of the baby in the story on a medical article that tracked the effects of familial tuberculosis at that time.”

In Darkness Under the Water, Mama coughs three times: once, a “barking cough” (that could describe croup or pertussis), the second time, a “low rattling cough” (that could describe asthma or perhaps, tuberculosis) and the third time, while Mama is giving birth, she coughs spasmodically, which could have many indications. Grandma says that Mama has a “spring cough,” but the nurses quickly diagnose her as having tuberculosis and instruct Molly to bring her to the hospital in St. Johnsbury in a few days “to see the doctors about the tuberculosis.” If Mama indeed has latent tuberculosis, there would no connection with losing the baby. If Mama has active tuberculosis, she would be coughing spasmodically throughout the book, she would be coughing up blood and Molly and Grandma would been coughing as well. If Mama indeed had tuberculosis, how did she get it? Why does no one else have it? Why didn’t the family go to the doctor in St. Johnsbury? And why do Mama’s customers—who would have known that tuberculosis is wildly contagious—continue to bring their laundry for her to wash?

Does Nurse Carpenter smother Mama’s baby during the delivery? To this reader, it certainly seems so. Grandma says, “We’ll never know whether she smothered that baby, either.” Molly questions, “Had the nurse made sure he didn’t breathe?” Mama, after the final episode with Nurse Carpenter, screams: “She wants to kill my baby…She wants to kill my baby again. No! No!”

Kanell writes (ChildLit, Dec. 12, 2008, italics mine):

“My intent in framing the nursing presence in town and then the childbirth scene the way I did, with medical components that 16-year-old Molly struggles to comprehend, was to allow readers to see Molly’s and her family’s assumptions within the climate of fear induced by the Eugenics Project. Could the prematurely born baby have been smothered by the nurses? Could they have attacked Molly’s mother internally in an effort to make sure she would bear no more children? As I have acknowledged with teens who’ve read the story and asked ‘what really happened’ in this scene, I don’t think that the nurses were necessarily the evil and vicious agents of the Eugenics Project here—but I can’t fault Molly in thinking they might be.”

It appears that Kanell used the background of the eugenics movement to imply that there was sterilization, dialogue from the nurses that implies that there was sterilization, a gory description of a procedure that appears to be sterilization and infanticide, and dialogue from Indian characters who insist that there was sterilization and possibly an infanticide. But now, Kanell says that there was neither sterilization nor an infanticide. If this is the case, then what are the nurses—whose only purpose appears to be as the tools of the eugenics movement—doing in the story? There is no internal logic here. Rather, in her post-publication comments about the nurses, the medical procedure and the delivery, Beth Kanell appears to be backtracking. Or she appears to be purposefully manipulating young readers who cannot possibly be expected to work through this level of poorly written ambiguity.


Who’s being blamed?

Kanell shows an appalling lack of respect for her own Indian characters. Writing to ChildLit (Dec. 12, 2008), she implies that the nurses were innocent passersby who came to help and that Mama’s, Grandma’s, Molly’s, and Henry’s understanding of what the nurses did to Mama are “assumptions within the climate of fear induced by the Eugenics Project.” She further writes that it was Mama’s “tuberculosis” that causes the baby’s “stillbirth,” even though Grandma, who is a traditional doctor and herbalist, says Mama had a “spring cough.” So, in effect, she’s saying, “It’s not my fault that young readers may misunderstand what I wrote. It’s my Abenaki characters’ fault.” This is disingenuous.

Kanell writes (to “American Indians in Children’s Literature,” Debbie Reese’s blog, Dec. 7, 2008):

“Judy and Doris, I’m sorry that you’ve been dismayed by some misreadings of the story…perhaps you are not a frequent reader of ‘young adult’ fiction, where some suggestions of fear and horror are not always matched by the also presented facts. A reader needs to sort through what is being presented.”

So, in effect, Kanell’s saying, “It’s not my fault that the two Abenaki critics misunderstood what I wrote.” Point of information: Doris Seale, before her retirement, was a children’s librarian for over 45 years, and Judy Dow has been a teacher for more than 25 years. It’s more than likely that both Abenaki women know how to read and interpret young adult fiction, even poorly written ones such as Darkness Under the Water.

It may not have been Kanell’s intent to falsify the eugenics movement in Vermont in such an egregious manner; it may not have been Kanell’s intent to miseducate the children of Vermont; it may not have been Kanell’s intent to shame Abenaki people; I have no way of knowing. But when Kanell creates a melodramatic ghost story that distorts a piece of history that continues to strike the hearts of Abenaki families; when every single one of Kanell’s Abenaki characters misunderstand what’s happening to them; when Kanell condescendingly dismisses the words of Abenaki educators who point out what she has done—then her very intentions are suspect.

And so are J.L. Bell's. When he writes (see post, above) that “critics who disregard parts of a work, or describe it or its history inaccurately, aren't being respectful to either author and readers,” is this is a thinly-veiled accusation that Doris Seale and Judy Dow, Indian educators who put together a carefully researched review of a book that caused them great personal pain, lack integrity? Or that Debbie Reese, an educator who has made truthful depictions of Indian lives and histories her life’s work, lacks integrity? Or is he implying that Indian people don’t have the smarts to know a good book from a bad book? In any event, it would seem to me that, behind the screen of academic scholarship, there lurks both arrogance and white privilege.

—Beverly Slapin

Jan 18, 2009 - Note:

There are several posts here on this blog, about DARKNESS UNDER THE WATER. I'm arranging them here, chronologically. Be sure to read comments to each entry.

December 5, 2008 - Seale and Dow essay on DARKNESS UNDER THE WATER
December 6, 2008 - A reader responds to Seale/Dow review
December 17, 2008 - Slapin's Open Letter to Kanell
December 18, 2008 - Kanell's Response to Slapin's Open Letter
December 19, 2008 - I read Beth Kanell's DARKNESS UNDER THE WATER
January 3, 2009 - "Darkness Under the Water: Questions and Comments" by Beverly Slapin