Indigenous Books Bonanza

This month I've read so many noteworthy books by Indigenous authors that I decided to highlight them in a separate post instead of including them in my monthly round-up.

The Strangers by Katherena Vermette

A companion novel to Vermette's The Break. It's been a month since I read this, and the characters are still with me, representing three generations of Métis women in Winnipeg. Their reality is intergenerational trauma, poverty, addiction and incarceration. On top of that, living in a place and time—Canada, now—that does not value Indigenous women, clearly takes its toll. They don‘t want pity from the reader. They face the world on their own terms. Above all, this is a powerful story of resistance.

Then the world went to shit, and everybody started wearing masks and face shields, but really Phoenix‘s life wasn‘t all that different. She‘d been social distancing her whole life.

I was doing a story for English. It was a slipstream, a girl who could travel through history and meet a bunch of strangers who turned out to be her ancestors. Her family. [I like what Vermette did here, referencing her 'Pemmican Wars' graphic novel series that begins with A Girl Called Echo.]

Nishga by Jordan Abel

What does it mean to be Indigenous but to grow up in a city, severed from Indigenous community, knowledge and land? Are you still Indigenous if you have mixed heritage and don‘t know the language of your ancestors? How does one deal with intergenerational trauma from residential schools? In this visually striking and moving memoir created from found texts, transcripts, photographs, his father's art and his own concrete poetry, Jordan Abel grapples with these questions.

I work with found text because that was my first real connection to Indigeneity, and, as an intergenerational survivor of Residential Schools, I create art that attempts to reflect my life experience, including my severance from Indigenous knowledge and land.

When someone tells us their story, that story becomes a part of us.

During the question period, a professor raised his hand and spoke for several minutes before coming to his question: “What is new about this?” He didn‘t really care about how I might respond. He just wanted me to know that he didn‘t think my work had any value. If he asked me that now, I would say: “Nothing. This is an old, sad, painful story that hurts just as much yesterday as it does today. There's nothing new about it but it's still not going anywhere."

I remember meeting my Dad for the first time and asking him twenty-three years worth of questions. I can‘t remember most of what I asked him. I can‘t remember most of his answers. He wasn‘t what I had expected. I had always assumed that I had no expectations. But it turned out that wasn‘t true at all. I was disappointed that the hole in my life was still there after we met. I always thought it would go away. But I guess it's something that I will carry with me everywhere now.

Gather: Richard Van Camp on the Joy of Storytelling by Richard Van Camp

“Edanet‘e? Hello! How are you, Cousin? I‘ve missed you.” With this friendly opening, Richard Van Camp shares the joys of storytelling in a collection that includes his own tales about growing up Tlicho in the NWT, his current life with a wife and family in Edmonton, plus a few stories from Elders like Tomson Highway, plus lots and lots of encouraging tips on how to engage an audience and be a great storyteller yourself.

Please know that when you stand up to share a story, people are automatically rooting for you. People want to visit. People need to visit! We are social animals, just like wolves!

I am lucky to tour as an author and storyteller and I find that when I‘m marketed as a writer visiting a community, we can sometimes pack a room, but when I‘m marketed as a storyteller, it‘s standing room only. I think this is because we are all lonesome for stories; we are all lonesome for connection and community. It‘s stories that unite us and remind us of our place in the world as brothers and sisters and it‘s an honour to be known as a great storyteller.

The sense that we are part of cultural genocide has never left me, and this is why I write. This is why I share stories. This is why I record my Elders: so I can help others who are looking for their cultures too. [This resonates with what Jordan Abel writes about in his memoir Nishga; his search for cultural connection began in libraries.]

it was never going to be okay by jaye simpson

jaye simpson—nonbinary trans, Oji-Cree plus Scottish and French ancestry—grew up in foster care. Their autobiographical poems express anger at the harm inflicted on them as a child, and later as a sex worker, while their noncapitilized use of “i” gentles their treatment of self, pointing towards healing and joy. Powerful imagery and emotions, plus a sense of mythological history contrasted against brief individual lives.

call me sea glass:
because i once was sharp
broken tossed in
tumultuous tides
thrashed on barnacle- & coral-clad rock,
pitched on log after drunken sunset
witnessed by shifting bonfire light.

they hardly ever remember
i used to cut.

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i am illusion enough for now / shapeshifters are monstrous / in their own / infinite possibilities / & how mundane the beholder.

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i want touch that isn‘t born of fetishization or desperation, i want touch born of healthy intentions, sure and full of consent. i do not want touch purely because of my fatness, nor my transness. i want touch because someone wants to hold me and because i am me.

On the Trapline by David A Robertson and Julie Flett

A word in Swampy Cree language sums up each piece of text in this gentle picture book set in present day: a story about a Cree Elder who takes his grandson to visit far northern Manitoba where his trapline was located.  The reality of vast distances is clear: getting to this place requires a flight in a small plane and then travelling onward in a motorboat. It's an introspective celebration of connection to land and history, by a pair of award-winning co-creators with Swampy Cree heritage. Julie Flett‘s artwork is made with pastels in earthy colours, to peaceful effect. A short glossary and pronunciation guide is included at the back.

An example from the text: "Wapahtam means 'he sees it.'" David Robertson, in an interview with CBC‘s Shelagh Rogers, said: “What I love about Cree is that one word can mean so much. Cree is such a beautiful language.”

Mii maanda ezhi-gkendmaanh / This Is How I Know by Brittany Luby and Joshua Mangeshig Pawis-Steckley

Concepts of seasons and colours are presented in this charming dual-language—Anishinaabemowin and English—picture book created by an Anishinaabe team from Ontario. Ojibwe artist Joshua Pawis-Steckley includes elements of Woodlands style in his depiction of the animals. Some Indigenous children will find a familiar northern landscape and language, while other young readers will learn about a way of life different from their own. Any child might enjoy spending time searching for the creatures on each double-page spread. It's also a good book for generating conversation about how young readers recognize the signs of the seasons in their own environment.

When Loon opens her red eyes / to call across the water / and green Luna Moth hides / among birch leaves.
When yellow Bumblebee collects purple / fireweed with me / and we spy brown Screech Owl / asleep in the tree.
When blueberries drop readily / and the sand is hot enough to sting.
When insects billow black from the trees / and the sun slips into an orange dream.
This is how I know summer.

Walking in Two Worlds by Wab Kinew
Audiobook [8 hr] read by Joelle Peters

Anishinaabe journalist and political leader Wab Kinew has created a wonderfully nuanced teen character in Bugz, which is short for Bagonegiizhigok. (Wab, by the way, is short for Wabanakwut.) Bugz is a star in an online multiplayer game, but struggles with her self-image in the real world. The two worlds of the title could be Indigenous/mainstream; real/virtual; or inner/outer self. Exciting gamer-centred YA about being authentic.

21 Things You May Not Know About the Indian Act: Helping Canadians Make Reconciliation with Indigenous Peoples a Reality by Bob Joseph

The title says it all. The contents are eye-opening and succinct. Bob Joseph is a well-spoken member of the Gwawaenuk Nation (Kwakwaka'wakw).

My personal quest is to change the world, one person at a time. The continued interest in the article [from which this book sprung] indicated to me that a book expanding the 21 things would provide a service to Canadians, and others, who are ready to learn about the Indian Act and its ramifications. This book is for people who want to walk with informed minds and hearts along the path to reconciliation.

Indian in the Cabinet: Speaking Truth to Power by Jody Wilson-Raybould
Audiobook [12 hr] read by the author

Jody Wilson-Raybould of the We Wai Kai Nation (Kwakwaka'wakw) famously served as Canada‘s first Indigenous Minister of Justice and Attorney General. In her excellent memoir, she writes about her ethical principles surrounding the SNC Lavalin scandal that resulted in her getting booted from the Liberal caucus, as well as other underhanded pressures—approve this pipeline and then maybe we will pay attention to your social justice concerns!—from the Prime Minister‘s Office. 

The Liberal government exiled us to the margins of the House of Commons. I made my journey from the front bench on the government side to the farthest back corner on the opposition side.

In My Own Moccasins: A Memoir of Resilience by Helen Knott
Audiobook [9 hr] read by the author

Helen Knott says she was an adult before she learned that not every Indigenous girl experiences sexual violence. She says this memoir is especially aimed at women like her who have struggled with addiction as a way of coping with trauma. It‘s a story not only of survival but of triumph and accomplishment. Knott is of Dane-Zaa, Nehiyaw, Métis and European descent and grew up in northern BC.