Get on the Bus for Mr. Graham Jones's Wild Ride: Off the Reservation

 Off the Reservation by Stephen Graham Jones

Off the Reservation book cover

Author Stephen Graham Jones

I don’t often recommend reading the acknowledgements first, but in the case of Stephen Graham Jones’s ambitious and wildly imaginative follow up to The Only Good Indians it might provide some context in understanding this surreal road-trip and possession horror novel that not only confronts many of the myths and stereotypes surrounding Indians, but he also offers insights and the inspirations that influenced this sequel to The Only Good Indians. Beyond textual evidence, Graham Jones also offers insight into his writing process, which informs this multi-layered novel that inhabits the perspectives of several complex characters who shift and evolve throughout the course of the novel and road trip. As Graham Jones notes “Put me in a group, at a dinner, a reception, and I usually hunch my shoulders and hide, stay quiet, always snaking looks at the door. Put me at the keyboard, though, and I come alive.” He discusses how part of the novel was written in an Applebee’s while he was on the road, and another chapter was written in the back of a car, where he risked motion sickness to put his vision on paper (or computer). He also thanks (sarcastically) a passenger who sat in front of him during a flight who pushed the seat back and nearly caused an ocular migraine while Graham Jones was continuing to work on this novel. It’s a fascinating look at the writing process for one of the most inventive and distinct voices in horror today, and it helped me better understand some of the events and significance of the characters and the action throughout the novel. Plus, he also offers sine background about the chapter “He Stood Dying”, which is pretty much a chapter about Nate going to the bathroom. It’s a fascinating chapter that left me wondering more about why so much of the chapter was dedicated to this process; it serves an important function later on in the story, which I don’t want to spoil, and the acknowledgement also reveals some of the motivation behind this focus. So depending on whether a reader wants to try to navigate this complex, surreal story on their own to attempt to make meaning, or whether they would prefer to hear from the author about motivations and meaning, it might help. I found myself both engaged and perplexed by Graham Jones’s unique style that features both truly gross and graphic horror as well as long, complex, stream-of-consciousness sentences that extend for several lines and capture details of the surrounding environment, the characters’ thoughts and feelings, and sometimes the author’s own interjections. One example from the pee chapter starts “He was a stoic Indian, though, didn’t even show it, excerpt maybe in how fast his fingertips kept galloping over the laminated table of the Sundancer’s abbreviated booth of a dining table, Mooch laying down solitaire cards across from him, his overfilled blader a stretched-tight drum skin picking up every single one of those thunderous impacts of varnished paper meeting laminated tabletop.” I found myself re-reading sections to better grasp what was happening, and I was constantly reminded of Toni Morrison’s famous retort to Oprah about the need to re-read “That, my dear, is called reading.” Off the Reservation has something for everyone, whether it is graphic and gross body horror, symbolic metaphors to counter the stereotypes and racism that Indians experience and to challenge the myths of America’s westward expansion, and the distinct voice of literary horror’s most inventive stylist. However, this is probably not a book for everyone, but it is a rewarding book if readers are willing to re-read and work to make meaning of the depth of Graham Jones’s surreal and metaphorical vision.

Off the Reservation is much different from The Only Good Indians even though it features some of the same characters. Where The Only Good Indians also featured multiple characters, whose stories were told in different sections, Off the Reservation also features multiple distinct characters whose stories intersect as they are all taking part on a road trip mission in an old Sundancer Camper RV to travel from Montana to Carlisle, Pa., site of the notorious Carlisle Indian School, whose founder, Richard Henry Pratt, explained the mission of the school to “Kill the Indian, save the man”, and as it’s been found out, the school often took this motto literally with over 200 marked and unmarked graves found around the school grounds. The Only Good Indians felt a lot like It to me as there were several friends who experienced a kind of trauma when they were younger that eventually came to haunt them. Off the Reservation feels like something else entirely. At first, I thought that with the road trip in the RV, there where hints of Doctor Sleep’s True Knot, but a kind of inverse to Crow Daddy, since these Indians were all attempting to repatriate the bones of a boy who died at the Carlisle Indian School, not take the lifeforce from younger kids. However, Off the Reservation also reminded me of Sherman Alexie’s excellent short story “This Is What It Means to Say Phoenix, Arizona” where the trip becomes more than just travelling, but it functions as a way to reconnect with indigenous culture and heritage while also confronting stereotypes and racism. Maybe I’m just looking too much into these similarities since these were not books that Graham Jones mentioned in the acknowledgement section, but I loved the way the road trip played out. Beyond these literary connections, Off the Reservation’s horror is what really sets it apart from other books. I also loved The Buffalo Hunter Hunter, and that book also included some graphic details, but it was framed as a kind of vampire novel, whereas Off the Reservation features a demonic spirit that ends up possessing members of the trip and causing extreme instances of body horror. Other characters, notably Christiana/Christian, experience their own violence and body horror, with a brutal attack at a rest stop that leaves them without a tongue, which is eventually replaced by a synthetic tongue that is attached by magnets, which Christiana/Christian keeps in a hollowed-out bible to help with finding their voice. This might be my favorite character in the book, and they are definitely one of the more symbolic characters, who loses their voice to a kind of settler violence, and struggles to communicate throughout the rest of the book. Although one could argue that it’s the other characters and us who struggle to understand them, and that Christiana/Christian have developed their own language despite the efforts of others to try to silence them or replace their voice with a synthetic facsimile kept in a Christian box. There’s many of these kinds of symbolic incidents throughout the novel, whether it is characters questioning the cleanliness of blankets and refusing to use them or even the voice of Russell Means showing up to talk through the body of Nurse Seine (I also loved Graham Jones’s aside “It was the same clipped-but-controlled delivery from the 1989 Senate hearings that he always showed class, to try to foment what might need fomenting. Eighteen minutes of prepared remarks: restrained but angry, persuasive but demanding, eloquent but in that reservation accent, AIMing (my emphasis) for the bullseye and hitting it line after line- a hero if there ever was one.”). Although Nurse Seine has her own motivations for bringing Nate out to the Carlisle Indian School, I felt bad for everything that she experiences throughout the novel. She’s repeatedly punished through the possession, and it reminded me a lot of the Evil Dead movies where there is horror, gore, but also a bit of surreal slapstick and over-the-top body horror. Graham Jones definitely puts her through the wringer throughout this book.

Although I’ve written a good amount about this book, I haven’t even really addressed the plot of the book, and it’s a little challenging since this book starts out with Nate and his friend Sebby looking to burglarize a kind of lake vacation home, only to end up in a car accident. Prior to the accident, Nate sees what he thinks are tiny deer that may have been recording the burglary, which he later witnesses on a videotape of the film War Party, which apparently is a real film that takes place on the Blackfeet Indian Reservation. I also loved how this locally made film ends up playing a kind of surreal role where Nate struggles to understand the truth of history and the fictions of the myths that many believe. The film plays on a loop throughout their road trip, and Nate witnesses changes in the film, whether it’s Sebby’s sudden appearance in the film or seeing the moments before the accident that heavily damaged Nate’s skull and sent Sebby into a coma. While recuperating in the hospital, Nate’s nurse, Nurse Seine, ends up helping him with his recovery, and eventually encouraging him to join the road trip to Carlisle and eventually join the Dakota pipeline protests on their way back to Montana (I think). The story shifts from Nate and Sebby’s antics to start the novel, to Nate’s difficult recovery, and eventually the long journey out to Carlisle, and while the group of Indians in the Sundancer RV cover many miles in their journey, most of the action takes place within the RV, with some occasional rest stops and when they eventually reach their destination of Carlisle. I can’t really give more details about this incredible book without really spoiling too much of it; however, the story shifts to a possession story, which apparently Graham Jones was learning the rules of with his grad seminar on possession stories (which I would have loved to take- this sounds like an amazing course; hopefully he at least releases the syllabus). I’m still trying to make sense of the book and many of the wild events that took place after they reach Carlisle, but if readers appreciate unique stories that take common tropes and reinvent them, then they will most likely appreciate this inventive and original book. It is a challenging read, mostly because of Graham Jones’s unique style, with his long, complex sentences and stream-of-consciousness narration of multiple characters who are in the RV. It’s a rewarding read for those who want to venture Off the Reservation and challenge themselves, but it may not be for everyone. Much like he did with The Buffalo Hunter Hunter, Graham Jones experiments with form and style, taking horror staples like the vampire or demons who look for a human host to create a unique and original story that reinvents monsters and challenges stereotypes and historical myths. Graham Jones has created a wild road trip that I didn’t want to end, but I really enjoyed the ride. Highly recommended! Many thanks to Saga Press and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of this amazing book! 

A Return to the Rosebud Reservation with Wisdom Corner by David Heska Wanbli Weiden

 Wisdom Corner by David Heska Wanbli Weiden

Wisdom Corner book cover

Author David Heska Wanbli Weiden

Many thanks to Ecco, Harper Collins Publishers, and NetGalley for sharing an advanced copy of David Heska Wanbli Weiden’s exciting entry into the Virgil Wounded Horse novels Wisdom Corner. I have been waiting for this book for a while now, and I was very excited to find it on NetGalley. I read Winter Counts, the first entry into vigilante enforcer of the Rosebud Reservation Virgil Wounded Horse, about 5 years ago, not knowing much about the book. Heska Wanbli Weiden has the skill as a writer to craft page turning chapters that are full of action and intrigue while also being able to incorporate history, philosophy, and traditions of Indians, especially of the Sicangu Lakota people who live on the Rosebud Reservation. I was surprised at how gritty and thrilling the book is, yet there are also these incredibly informative and insightful sections where readers can learn about the traditions and history of the Lakota as well as other Indian people that seems to counter many of the stereotypes and misrepresentations that have been perpetuated throughout history and popular culture. Virgil isn’t the typical tough guy whose all action and no thinking. He’s a thoughtful and considerate guy who tries to avoid fighting, but will throw down when necessary. What I really appreciate about Virgil, though, is his continual growth and development, recognizing that he’s not perfect and that he seeks ways to continue to learn more about his identity, his culture, and his people’s history and ways. It’s these thoughtful moments of introspection that border the action in the book creating a wonderful kind of dwelling that as a reader, I found myself eager to revisit.

Wisdom Corner is a welcome return to the Rosebud Reservation with Virgil as our guide, although he notes that there are some issues that continue to plague the Rez like bootlegging liquor, access to healthy foods, which creates a reliance on convenient snacks and unhealthy, processed foods, crime, and the lack of investigative and preventative forces to fight back against crime. Heska Wanbli Weiden includes some great notes at the end of the book declaring that this is a work of fiction that takes place on a real reservation where he attempts to recapture the fond memories he had of growing up on Rosebud. However, he is also able to identify some of the more systemic and structural problems that have plagued Indigenous communities that have some level of independence from the federal government, but also lack any kind of support or resource sharing from the federal government. The limited access to resources, especially when fighting crime, is where Virgil sees an opportunity to use his skills, although he is trying to reform his ways, especially after the end of Winter Counts.

Although I ended up really enjoying this book, it starts somewhat slower, as Virgil spends about the first fifth of the book recapping the events of Winter Counts. Nevertheless, it’s an important reminder since Marie, Virgil’s significant other, ended up killing her father, who was a tribal council member who was dealing drugs on the Rez. Marie has taken over her parents’ home but still lives with Virgil. This plays an important part in Wisdom Corner, and I appreciated how Heska Wanbli Weiden is able to build on this continuity from book to book. Wisdom Corner has a twisty, surprising plot that will leave readers wondering who is behind the violence that is erupting on the rez. Virgil initially believes that the battle is retaliation from a meeting between his friend, Pudge, a bootlegger, and a rival gang from another rez who want to start selling alcohol on Rosebud. Virgil attends the meeting with his friend to maintain the peace, but has to resort to defending Pudge with his fists, as the rival gang becomes too threatening and imposing. In a later episode during his process serving work, Virgil encounters more resistance from a guy and his Aryan Nation buddies, but ultimately defends himself. Yet, Marie, who is now running for tribal council, has repeatedly asked Virgil to stop the violence as her opponent, Mitch Gagnon, will stoop to mudslinging and possibly some other dirty tricks to win the race.

Virgil also leans about a new development taking place in a city nearby where a Native boarding school stood. The developers took over the land and discovered unmarked graves on the site, which has slowed the construction process. Virgil eventually leans that his aunt was one of the children who died there and is likely buried in an unmarked grave there. Heska Wanbli Weiden uses this plot point to further educate readers about the horrors of these boarding schools that took Indigenous children away from their families in order to teach them the ways of white folks, just as the infamous phrase from Richard Henry Platt, who started the Carlisle Indian Industrial School, advocated for white society to “Kill the Indian, save the man.” While this could be a moment for a kind of preachy and pedantic lecture on injustices done to Indigenous people, Heska Wanbli Weiden skillfully incorporates this history and injustice as something that Virgil has a personal connection to and is trying to learn more about. Furthermore, the battle between the developers and the Indigenous community to preserve the remains of the ancestors highlights some of the current battles between commerce and tradition, corporations and collectives, where we see powerful, paid interests often finding ways to defeat these communities. I really appreciated how he integrates these learning moments throughout the book.

Shortly after visiting the development site to learn more about where his aunt might be, Virgil learns that his mentor and the respected tribal medicine man, Jerome Iron Shell, was murdered. Jerome was Pudge’s uncle, so Pudge and Virgil immediately suspect the rival 705 Gang. However, they have trouble tracking them down and pinning the murder on them. Through his encounters with other indigenous activists and tribal members, Virgil will work to unravel the mystery of Jerome’s murder. Yet, this will also come at a cost for Virgil. Heska Wanbli Weiden has crafted a compelling and exciting crime thriller that takes readers on the Rez and shares aspects of traditional Lakota life and history. Furthermore, he’s able to critique some of the issues that Indigenous people face through Virgil’s thoughtful asides. I also want to mention that the dialogue in this book is great. Heska Wanbli Weiden has crafted some distinct characters throughout the book, and their varied dialects and slang make them stand out in their differences. I don’t remember the dialogue being like this in Winter Counts, but it was definitely a strong element of Wisdom Corner. However, what I appreciated most about this book beyond being a great crime thriller was that Heska Wanbli Weiden shows the Rosebud Reservation to be a community that is supportive and inclusive, where people know each other, are rooting for one another, and come together when they experience hardship or challenges. Highly recommended! 

A Prequel- Wandering Stars by Tommy Orange

 Wandering Stars by Tommy Orange

Wandering Stars book cover

Author Tommy Orange

“Here now doing it, I’m already regretting that I hadn’t before, while also regretting that I’m doing it now. Feelings are always so twinned, with opposite meaning.” (305).

Tommy Orange’s magnificent follow-up (and prequel) to There There traces the history of the Bear Shield and Red Feather families, where we find out how they arrived in California, as well as much of the generational trauma that they have experienced being Native Americans where land, culture, history, language, identity, hair and dress, and even voice were systematically removed. The book starts with Jude Star and Victor Bear Shield, and how their experiences being transported from the Sand Creek Massacre to Fort Marion in Florida, where the goals were to civilize the Indians. These chapters also trace the experiences of Charles Star, Jude’s son, who ends up in the Carlisle Indian School. Much of this early part, told in stream of consciousness from various characters’ perspectives, reminded me of Toni Morrison’s Beloved. Orange has this way with his sentences where he uses chiasmus, using parallelisms and reversals. I loved following these twisty devices as we get into some of the absurdity these characters’ experiences trying to maintain a sense of identity, amidst the systematic destruction of their culture and community. Orange starts the second part, dealing with more of the present situation and following Opal, Jacquie, and the boys Orvil, Loother, and Lony, with a quote from Beloved that emphasizes the importance of stories and legacy, especially oral legacy. I really love that quote, and it was amazing to see how Orange finds relevance in Beloved’s story of redemption and redefinition after trauma and horror.

One of the other strengths of this book is the way that Orange melds his characters’ stories and lives with historical events, just like There There, bringing a sense of reality to these characters. He expertly weaves in historical events and incidents. Whether from the Sand Creek Massacre, the Carlisle School, or and other historical events, we see how Indians were a part of this history, but also how this history is frequently told from one perspective, failing to acknowledge either the destruction and devastation it has caused or how other people participated in these events. This aspect also reminded of a quote from Beloved where Schoolteacher says something along the lines of “definitions belong to the definers.” Wandering Stars seeks to redefine the role of Native Americans in American History by acknowledging where they have been and where they are now. Orange’s realistic characters help to provide a means to further discover this hidden history and unearth the contributions and wrongs experienced by Native Americans, while also helping to maintain some of their identity and culture.

Just like Beloved, this is a book about family and love in spite of difficult, often violent opposition and refusal of culture/identity. I won’t give the ending away, but I loved how the family (for the most part) comes together to find their strength within each other. Furthermore, the book deals with topics that many people experience including violence, addiction, loss, and identity. Tommy Orange is one of the most skilled writers in exploring the language of teens and young adults and how communication online has shifted things for everyone. The sections focusing on Orvill and Sean are interesting. I really liked reading about Sean’s discovery of his identity, and how it almost creates more confusion than certainty with him since he has no Native American friends to turn to. These sections were some of the most fun to deal with. I also felt like the parts that dealt with music were well-written and thoughtful. I remember reading that Tommy Orange studied engineering, and the way he writes about music combines both some technical knowledge with a passion for sound and music. This was an amazing book, and one that I am sure will be taught in many classrooms. I also think it is an engaging book for students as well as adults. I would love to see this book in more book groups. Highly recommended

Exploring the Mystical World of Fairylore

 Fairylore: A Compendium of the Fae Folk 

by Dr. Brittany Warman and Dr. Sara Cleto

Fairylore book cover

Authors and scholars Dr. Brittany Warman and Dr. Sara Cleto

Big thanks to Union Sware & Co., Sterling Publishing, and NetGalley for sharing their new incredible collection Fairylore: A Compendium of the Fae Folk by Dr. Brittany Warman and Dr. Sara Cleto. It’s kind of fortuitous that I was able to find this book since I just read Donald Quill’s Living the Irish Wheel of the Year, in which he references sidhes, who are like a form of fairies and magical beings in Irish folklore. I imagined that this book would be more focused on Celtic folklore from Ireland, Scotland and Wales, but I was amazed to find that this is a fairly (or fairy?) comprehensive compendium that incorporates folklore figures from various cultures from around the world. While I’ve never been too interested in fairies, I love mythological creatures and cryptids, and the organization of this book allows for the inclusion of creatures and figures that interact with the human world in interesting and unique ways. I actually love this kind of compendium that presents background stories and information about creatures, their strengths and interests in humans, and that is what this book is—a collection of interesting creatures, organized according to how they interact with the human world.

The authors, who are scholars of folklore, present some useful information about what fairies are and how they differ from other creatures, especially those of legends and mythology. Furthermore, they posit 5 different ideas that help to further classify and differentiate fairies from these other creatures. I loved the way the authors presented their rubric for inclusion into fairy classification. It’s an insightful presentation and it helps them also organize the 5 categories they’ve used to organize fairies: Home, Seduction, Terror (my favorite), Nature, and Neighbors. Furthermore, these ideas about how to classify fairies and how they interact with the human world also help to further their thesis that fairies end up revealing a lot about culture, beliefs, and philosophies. These kinds of stories about fairies serve as a way to explain events and phenomena that are typically beyond knowledge, a way to maintain harmony in society by explaining deviant behavior or avoiding blame of others, and also as a means of social control, to indicate what behaviors, actions and beliefs are approved for society and which ones are forbidden or punished. We still may use stories to highlight these beliefs and values today, but often they involve more realism and less magic, so it’s interesting to see how folklore incorporates these kinds of fantastic elements into their stories to serve as methods of instruction and passing down cultural values and beliefs to different generations.

Throughout the book, Dr. Warman and Dr. Cleto identify fairies from around the world, presenting references from both folklore and scholarly work that identifies stories, examples, or explanations of these fairies.  I felt like this was one of the many strengths of the book. It features fairy stories from expected cultures like those of Ireland, Wales, and Scotland, but also includes instances of fairies from other cultures and regions including the Apache, the Inca, South Africa, Newfoundland, Japan, China, Korea, and Australia. Furthermore, in their commentary and analysis of these fairies, the authors raise questions about whether some of these fairies existed prior to colonial contact, or whether they possible served as a means to explore colonialism and the encroaching loss of indigenous ways. In addition, they note that many of the first recorded instances of these fairies rely on translations, which may or may not be completely accurate or represent the full understanding of the fairies. It’s an important consideration, and I appreciate their ability to raise questions about sources and cultural interpretations and understandings of these fairies. In fact, this was one of those rare books where I couldn’t wait to peruse the bibliography to see how accessible some of their sources are. While they primarily rely on a few sources that are mentioned throughout the book (Briggs, Purkiss), it seems like Dr. Warman and Dr. Cleto consulted a wide array of different sources that were available to them to create a diverse and inclusive compendium of fairies and other creatures. In addition, the authors included a folklore tale at the end of each section that exemplifies or provides an instance of a fairy mentioned in the section. This was also really cool to read the specific references from their sources, since it provides a clear example and shows how the fairies interact. Furthermore, the authors explain how different modes of storytelling (first person accounts, re-tellings, and third-person accounts) all reflect different ways of conveying elements of the culture.

This is a great reference book to have, and I imagine using it both in the classroom and with my kids. It’s also a great starting point to learn more about these fascinating creatures to further understand their relationship with humans and as a means of explaining cultural beliefs, values, and events. As the authors mentioned in the conclusion, fairies have been a part of art, literature, and culture for nearly 500 years with references in Chaucer and Shakespeare, and more recently in Disney films, anime, and even horror films. I was surprised to find references to certain creatures like banshees, oni, and kitsune, but also excited to learn about so many more creatures that appear in different cultures throughout the world. I also have to mention that the illustrations in this book are another fantastic aspect of the book. Most of the fairies have incredible illustrations that help readers better understand conceptions of these fae folk. This is a great book to read and revisit if you are interested in folklore, culture, and creatures. The entries are brief and succinct, giving readers an insightful understanding of these creatures, how they interact with humans, and the possible morals, values, and behaviors they convey to people. This is a book that I would share with my kids, a classroom, or even just read for my own enjoyment. It’s a wonderful compendium where readers are guaranteed to learn a lot. Highly recommended! 

Mooseleute, Germany

Yunwitsundi, Cherokee

Muki, Andes Mountains, South America

Oni, Japan

Veli, Fiji

Konderong, Gambia and Senegal

Taiparu, Cook Islands

Dullahan, Ireland

Alux, Mexico

Tengu, Japan

Melusine, France

Moksin Tongbop, Korea

Saci Perere, Brazil

Documenting the Trials and Tribulations of Adolescence from a Native American Perspective: The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian

 The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie

The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian book cover

Author Sherman Alexie

I just finished Sherman Alexie’s The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, and I’m so disappointed that I only just read this book now. A good friend of mine had recommended this book several times, and I used to teach Alexie’s story “This is What in Means to Say Phoenix, Arizona,” but I cannot believe that it has taken me nearly 18 years to encounter this book. The short story was definitely one of the highlights of my short story unit, as the two characters Victor and Thomas, share a strange journey to retrieve Victor’s father’s body. There’s so much great dialogue and humor for a story about death and fractured family relationships. My students would often laugh at Alexie’s word play between the two characters and the critiques of history and racism he routinely lobs throughout the story. I didn’t even realize that this was the basis for Smoke Signals until I started reading the story to prepare for class. Nevertheless, there’s definitely some shared themes and tones between the story and the book. However, I kept thinking that Junior and Rowdy were the kinds of characters I would have loved to encounter when I was a younger reader, and I think this would be a great book to teach, especially for some reluctant male readers, who I would also imagine that they might identify with Junior’s thoughts and experiences throughout the book. I actually read it along with my son, who was looking for a book to read. I got tired of him reading the same Diary of a Wimpy Kid and Big Nate books. The book has some controversy about it—Junior is an adolescent boy who experiences a lot of challenges with his growth and development. Some of the passages were a little cringeworthy with allegations leveled at Alexie. Nevertheless, Junior’s story of leaving the Rez to attend a predominantly white and affluent school speaks to a lot of adolescents’ experiences with leaving the comfort of their family to search for their identity. However, Alexie’s perspective as an Indian allows readers to learn and attempt to understand how Junior’s own experience and the racism, both casual and overt, he experiences impacts his encounters with the white world. I loved his resilience and his continued efforts to be authentic, having others accept him as is. We also learn about Junior’s thoughts and emotions as he encounters some particularly challenging aspects of life that not all adolescents face. There are several deaths throughout the book, and as Junior notes, like many Indians, he’s attended more than 40 funerals. Despite all of these challenges, Junior faces them with humor and acceptance, often leaning on his community, whether it is his family or his newfound community of friends at Reardon, his new high school. One of the coolest points of the book is when Junior is confused about his feelings for Penelope, a popular and pretty white classmate. He asks another white friend, Gordy, to do some research about being in love with a white girl. Gordy’s search yields information about the Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women Movement, and it’s a great way to raise awareness about how society often overlooks crimes against women of color, and how there are so many missing and murdered indigenous women in areas like Washington state, as well as Mexico, where Gordy is researching. I loved how Alexie enables Junior’s presence to raise awareness and learn more about people and cultures that are often left out of headlines and textbooks. The sections detailing Junior’s basketball games and his friendship and eventual competition with Rowdy are also some of the best parts of the book, and it’s also some of the elements that will be most appealing to reluctant male readers. Alexie captures some great aspects of the games and presents them in an entertaining and exciting manner.

This edition comes with great illustrations that allow readers to better understand Junior’s worldview. I loved the illustrations and how they complemented Junior’s thinking and perspectives about the world he encounters. However, the 10^th edition that I read also included a moving note from Alexie about the inspiration for the character of Rowdy. I won’t spoil too much about it, but if you happen to be able to read this edition, please do read this bonus content, especially this note from Alexie about his friend Randy J. Peone, who inspired the character of Rowdy. It’s a beautiful, funny, and elegiac piece of writing that was both touching and sad to read after this book. I highly recommend Alexie’s The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian. It’s one of those essential adolescent texts like Cisneros’ House on Mango Street and Saligner’s Catcher in the Rye, that presents the challenges and struggles of adolescence in a touching, natural and relevant manner, providing some reassurance for teens and some reminders to adults, parents, and teachers about what a difficult but important time this can be. 

Honoring Tradition, Wisdom, and Knowledge

 The Seven Circles: Indigenous Teachings for Living Well by Chelsey Luger and Thosh Collins

The Seven Circles book cover

Before reading this book, I came across an interview with Chelsey Luger and Thosh Collins about the book. It was interesting to learn about how both writers worked to incorporate more indigenous ways into their lives and how the pandemic allowed them to do more of this by engaging with more outdoor activities. Although I just read this book recently, I felt similarly about the pandemic and although it was not always a pleasant experience, I found myself outside with my kids a lot, visiting larger parks, trail hiking, and going to local creeks, all the types of activities we didn’t too often in the pre-pandemic days. I loved this book, and I think it is a really great read for so many people, especially so many of my friends who are trying to manage hectic lives. I loved how Luger and Collins share their own experiences and offer tips and suggestions for implementing some of these methods in their lives. Not only do their recommendations have physical and mental health benefits, but they also promote more sustainability. I also loved that they recognize that not everyone can make these kinds of changes, but that there are different degrees and ways to implement these kinds of changes in one’s life. However, I really appreciated that they felt a kind of need to educate the public about appropriating Indigenous ways. It is really important to respect the traditions and cultures that have used these methods and not just pull out some sage because it was on sale at Whole Foods. What I really liked the most about this book was how Luger and Collins present the elements of life in different ways, yet show how they are all interrelated in the seven circles. I really appreciated this kind of conceptualization for life and how they presented these different ideas, sharing their experiences and practices with them and how they came to the understanding of reintroducing their indigenous ways into their lives. I’m looking forward to more books that maybe delve into the specifics, especially about child rearing or education—I recently taught an article by Helen Thomas about indigenous knowledge and how school systems often overlook this way of thinking, and Luger and Collins’s book reminded me a lot of the ideas that Thomas shares about the importance of community, traditions and the kind of knowledge that elders pass onto the younger generation. I hope that they are able to explore more of the circles in more depth and continue to share their experiences and wisdom. Also, I hope that they have more opportunities to contribute to shows like Reservation Dogs. It was really great to see Thosh Collins on that flashback episode in the 70s. 

A Multifaceted Perspective

 Calling for a Blanket Dance by Oscar Hokeah

Calling for a Blanket Dance book cover

This was one of the most touching and powerful books I’ve read in some time. A true highlight in my year of reading. I can see why this book won best debut novel and was a finalist for book of the year. The book tells the story of Ever Geimausaddle and all his friends and relatives. Each section of the book relates to Ever in some way, but is told from a different perspective of his family and friends. The title comes from a ceremonial dance where the members of the tribe will donate money to help pay for some kind of expense. It shows the kind of community and support that surrounds the Cherokee and Kiowa communities that play a part in the book. Following Ever from his inception, when his father and mother first experience injustice in Mexico, the book traces the history of Ever’s experiences as an angry kid who struggles with school until he becomes a father and ultimately a young elder of the tribe, someone who is not only responsible for his own children, but looks out for other kids who struggle and are challenged by life as well. I could not put this book down, and I loved seeing Ever’s evolution from an angry kid to someone who became like a role model and father figure in his community. It was a great transformation. Furthermore, it was so interesting to learn about the different practices and the intersections of different indigenous peoples in the book. My favorite element of this book, though, was the characterization and how Hokeah imbues each chapter with the unique language and viewpoints of their narratives and how they each share a different view and conception of Ever. I absolutely loved this book, and I can see how amazing this book would be to teach in a high school or even middle school class. I think that it is appealing to all people, and I especially think that young boys would be interested in seeing how Ever transforms and finds strength and support in his community. The book sends such a positive message to so many. I am looking forward to reading more from Oscar Hokeah.

 

Horror, Megadeath, and Stephen King: The Ideal Character

 White Horse by Ericka T. Wurth

White Horse book cover

White Horse was a fun and entertaining ride by Erika T Wurth. I had been looking forward to reading this book for some time. The title and cover looked really cool, but what sealed the deal for me was the character of Kari James. I loved her narration, and she seemed like such a cool character to hang out with. Not only was she a big Stephen King fan (the Shining plays an important role in the book), but she also loves Megadeath and Dave Mustaine among other really interesting qualities. She also cared a lot about finding out more about her mother’s story and what happened to her father. Wurth’s story not only manages to entertain, but also highlights the issues of missing and murdered Indigenous women (MMIW) as her mother’s “disappearance” when she was a child is tied up in the neglected pursuit of missing indigenous women. Furthermore, Wurth intertwines myths of indigenous people, like the Lofa, to help explain the missing story. I really liked this creature and there’s a great spin on the nature of this creature and how it factors into Kari’s story. Ultimately Kari is someone who is not only haunted by her mother’s absence, but also by other events in her past and she uses the mystery of the Lofa and her missing mother as a means to come to terms with her past and issues of identity that some urban indigenous people must face. I loved how Kari even ends up in the Overlook Hotel and this kind of pokes fun at the haunted burial ground often used in 80s horror books and movies. This was a fun read, yet addresses some serious issues about trauma and the injustice of missing and murdered indigenous women. I’m not sure if Kari will have other adventures, possibly running the White Horse or kicking more ass, but I can’t wait to read more from Ms. Wurth. Looking forward to her future stories. 

Challenging Assumptions of American History

 The Rediscovery of America: Native Peoples and the Unmaking of U.S. History by Ned Blackhawk

The Rediscovery of America book cover

The Rediscovery of America: Native Peoples and the Unmaking of US History is one of the most important books I have read recently. Not only does Blackhawk present engaging stories about the cultures and traditions of indigenous tribes across the Americas, but he also challenges our assumptions about the nature of American history by asserting the importance of interactions between indigenous people and European colonizers. Although this book is primarily a history book, I think its importance resonates beyond academic history and helped me reconsider the social and cultural history of the Americas (Canada, Mexico, and the US). Much like David Truer’s The Heartbeat of Wounded Knee, this book presents a re-evaluation of myths and ideas that have largely shaped America’s understanding not only of indigenous people, but also its overall identity and values. By exposing the contributions of indigenous people and how trade, encounters and other interactions helped to shape policies and practices, Blackhawk shifts the perspective on American culture and history. I appreciated the regional and historical organization of the book, and I really loved Blackhawk’s ability to move from historical reporting to character development and narrative storytelling to make the history come alive. He largely balances these styles with keen insight and analysis of the historical events, their consequences and resulting policies. I’m not sure how long it will take for this book to become adopted into more and more curricula, but I could definitely see courses that use this book to teach and challenge the dominant perspectives and myths of American history. I hope that it does become a foundational text in many classrooms that educators and students alike use to expand their ideas about what America is and how its form and shape were largely defined by the contributions, sacrifices, and exploitation of the original people of this land. 

Folklore and Crime

 Sisters of the Lost Nation by Nick Medina

Sisters of the Lost Nation book cover

Nick Medina’s first book is an interesting story that examines the role of tradition and folklore in helping us understand not only our personal histories, but also sometimes in how we make sense of our traumas and problems. The story that centers around this book—about a kind of rolling head that eats up everything—is a really creative and interesting folk tale. I found that the way that the way that Anna believes in this story was pretty realistic and believable, especially since it is something that she’s heard since she was young. I liked Anna as a character, but I also wondered why she didn’t want to try to fit in. At times, it seemed like she was just dead against belonging to any group. While I can see how she differed from her sister in this respect, it also seemed like it was a little unbelievable. I really appreciated the fact that Medina’s book also examines the issue of murdered and missing indigenous women, a serious problem that is often underreported or investigated. After reading through the book, I appreciated how Medina told the story in alternating timelines. However, it was a little disorienting to read at first. It was a little hard to keep track of what happened when and who was involved. I think that once I became more acquainted with the characters, understanding the narrative flow was a little easier, but it was tough to follow at first. I’m looking forward to Medina’s next book, which seems like it takes the trope of the Indian burial ground. I am really curious to see what he does with that since one of the strengths of this book was the role that myths and folklore play in our lives. 

A Powerful Yet Quiet Novel of Fractured Identity

 Winter in the Blood by James Welch

Winter in the Blood book cover

I recently learned about James Welch and found this book at my library. This was the first book by James Welch that I read, and I absolutely loved this book. It’s a novel about identity, belonging (or its inverse, alienation), and trying to find a purpose and place in society. For the main character in this story (who is unnamed), those themes are complicated by his Indian identity, belonging to different tribes and also being torn between the countryside where his family lives and the city, where his friends and ex-girlfriend, who has taken some of his possessions, returns to. Winter in the Blood doesn’t have too much action in related to the main quest—the narrator’s desire to retrieve his stolen items. He goes to the city, trying to retrieve his stuff, only to encounter obstacles, strange people, and drinking. While it doesn’t seem like much happens, I loved the kind of aimless wandering and strangers he encounters on his quest. I also love the dichotomy between the city and countryside, especially when he meets with the old man towards the end of the book. There’s a kind of quiet desperation in his quest that’s never really resolved, but also contrasted with some of the other characters that he encounters in the novel (like the Airplane man). This was such a great book, and I’m excited that there is a film about this. I’m not sure how good it is or how much it captures the kind of quiet uncertainty of early adulthood and trying to find one’s identity, but I am looking forward to seeing it. 

Healing the Past With Culture: Medicine River by Mary Annette Pember

 Medicine River: A Story of Survival and the Legacy of Indian Boarding Schools  

by Mary Annette Pember

Medicine River book cover

Author Mary Annette Pember

Many thanks to Pantheon Books and NetGalley for allowing me to review an advanced copy of Mary Annette Pember’s powerful book Medicine River: A Story of Survival and the Legacy of Indian Boarding Schools. I am glad that more researchers, historians and journalists like Pember have started to excavate the hidden history of abuses and coercion that have occurred at Indian Boarding Schools during the 19th and 20th centuries. A few months ago, I read Eve Ewing’s incredible book Original Sins: The (Mis)education of Black and Native Children and the Construction of Americanism which challenges the notion of education as a means to social and economic mobility, and rather than viewing education as an equalizing force in society, Ewing recasts the ways that education was used to control and eradicate culture, operating under the assumptions of a cultural superiority that is still persistent today. It’s a powerful lesson and book that challenged my own ideas and hopes about education, yet also presented some ways that education can continue to grow and adapt to better teach Black and Native students. Medicine River focuses more specifically on Indian boarding schools, which were prominent throughout the 19th and even the 20th century, and explores their economic, social, and psychological legacy and the generations trauma that continues to haunt many Native families long after their ancestors attended these schools. Using her own mother’s experience in the Sister School in Wisconsin. Recalling discussions and stories from her Mother, Bernice, Pember begins to weave the story of these boarding schools with history, policy, and the tragedies that often were a continued part of these schools. While I initially thought this book would be mostly a focus on the history and legacies of the schools, Pember uses her mother’s experience, along with other subjects in the book, to examine the generational pain and emotional destruction that these schools have wrought on Native communities across the United States and Canada. She not only explores her mother’s story, but also interweaves her own experiences with school, exploring how her mother’s pain and abuse connected to Pember’s own eventual disconnection with school and her decision to run away from home in the 1970s. Pember’s story is one of redemption, and explores how she overcame these initial challenges to earn a college degree and a successful career in journalism, while also eventually becoming sober. The latter third of the book delves more into how traditional therapies and recovery efforts may not necessarily be culturally relevant to Native groups, who experience some of the highest rates of poverty and addiction in America. She presents the story of a Yup’ik community in Alaska that uses more traditional methods and encourages a sustenance lifestyle that their ancestors practiced to help members overcome addition and challenging mental health problems. Pember also revisits the painful last years of her mother’s life, while also continuing to weave together new revelations from her grandparents’ lives that she never realized due to her mother’s trauma. Medicine River is almost like 3 books in one—sharing some of the best qualities of memoir, historical analysis, and culturally relevant mental health practices. Although the book is challenging and features instances of violence, abuse, and the deaths of Native children, it’s an important reminder to recognize the kind of settler mentality and cultural supremacy that devised these schools and recognized them as a powerful state tool to not only eradicate Indigenous cultures across North America, but also as a means to weaken familial ties and gain land and access to minerals and resources like timber. 

While I enjoyed the entirety of this book, I felt like Pember’s strongest points were when she was writing about the boarding schools and the history and policies that eventually brought them about. Like Ewing’s book, Pember delves into the policies that brought about these schools, and how politicians used them as a means of control and coercion, and to avoid the physical genocide by bringing about a cultural genocide, often repeating the phrase on which these schools operated “Kill the Indian, save the man.” Pember begins by researching the archives for these schools which are held at Marquette University. She shares how there is some hesitancy to allow her full access, and her initial experience with the archives did not really provide that much illuminating evidence. However, her later research explores many of the horrors that children and their families experienced, from forcing the children into these schools with threats and legal action to the forced assimilation towards White Christianity. In what is some of the most harrowing research presented, Pember explores how illnesses which were typically deadly in the 19th and early 20th century, like measles, tuberculosis, and the flu, were often passed to Native children, who were then sent home to further spread these illnesses within their communities. Pember documents various cases of young children, infected with disease, and often returning home to die. In other cases, she explores how families were often notified after burial of their children’s passing. It’s heartbreaking and shocking to learn that while these schools were supposed to provide care and education for Native children, they were often sites of cultural and physical violence, sometimes even resulting in death. Pember, through her own family’s experiences, details the long-lasting effects of this kind of abuse and pain, and how families often pass down the emotional pain from generation to generation. I learned so much from these chapters, and Pember’s detailed research and fact-finding helped to add even more depth and significance to the research presented in Ewing’s book. 

Pember then transitions into her own story, which is both fascinating and tragic, yet ultimately redemptive and hopeful. It was interesting to learn about her mother’s experiences once she left the Sisters School, but then how Pember first met her grandfather, who plays an important role in the later story, once Pember learns more about how her mother eventually ended up in the Sisters School. Pember shares her own experiences in school, and the kind of racism and discrimination she faced in schools, leading her to eventually leave and run away. This part of the book was surprising, not only for Pember’s adventures as a runaway, but also as to the candor and bravery for telling her story. I wasn’t expecting this part of the book, and it was fascinating to learn more about her background and experiences. I think this aspect of her story also shows the kind of generational trauma or how the unresolved pain and anguish can be passed along from mother to daughter. It’s an important message about acknowledging the pain and hurt once experiences to move beyond it and ensure that we don’t subject our children to the same kind of pain and hurt we experienced as children. Pember’s story is also hopeful since she explores how she eventually returned from juvenile incarceration to attend University of Wisconsin and earn a degree in journalism. Although she doesn’t get too into the details of her alcoholism, she discusses her initial career as a journalist, and how it kind of enabled her drinking further. However, in returning to the idea of generational trauma, Pember experiences waking up from a drunken night on a bathroom with her daughter staring at her. This was her moment of clarity, when she recognized that she didn’t want to inflict the same pain and hurt that she experienced on her daughter. It’s a powerful lesson to learn, and sadly one that Pember’s mother, Bernice, continued to struggle with throughout her life. 

The latter part of the book deals more with overcoming this kind of trauma and the acknowledgement of the destruction and damage done by these boarding schools. The focus isn’t completely on the schools themselves, but rather many of the health and mental health challenges that Native communities face in America and Canada today. One of the most powerful sections focuses on Pember’s journey to Alaska to meet with a Yup’ik community that is burying a young man who was murdered by his niece, over an argument that no one is really sure how it began. This was also an important part of the book since Pember explains how often the traditional therapeutic practices for dealing with mental health issues aren’t always relevant and don’t always work for Indigenous peoples. I found this idea to be similar to educational researchers like Gloria Ladson Billings and Lisa Delpit who argue that in order for learning to be meaningful for groups of students, it needs to relevant and aligned with their own cultural values and experiences. Similarly, Pember’s revelation about the inefficacy of these practices also reminded me of Alisha McCullough’s book Reclaiming the Black Body: Nourishing the Home Within, where she explores how Western and White concepts of body image and nutrition are often ineffective and sometimes unhealthy for people of color. It’s an important reminder about how the kind of ethnocentricity continues to permeate and cause problems by failing to acknowledge cultural differences and preferences. Furthermore, I think Pember’s analysis and exploration of culturally relevant practices is an important reminder of the how necessary it is to acknowledge and include diversity in our education, practices, and considerations. The continued war against diversity can have devasting and lethal consequences for those communities that continue to face challenges and hardships, while also facing a denial of their practices, values, and beliefs. Another chapter follows the revelations about the abuse and deaths in Canadian boarding schools, and how despite acknowledgement and pledges from the government, many of the First Nations People are still waiting for reparations. I also found it interesting how Canadian politicians and even the Pope acknowledged, but also hedged their responsibilities and roles in the abuse, often blaming things like the doctrine of discovery or a colonial mentality that people were following at the time. Pember presents Canada’s actions as both a kind of blueprint for what to do and what not to do. She also outlines how Deb Haaland, the former Secretary of the Interior, helped to lead an investigation into the abuses in American Indian Boarding Schools. While I’m not hopeful that much will come of these investigations now with a change in the regime that seems to care nothing about history or Indigenous peoples, it’s still important to see what kinds of action have been taking place and how this may lead to change or further investigations in the future. Furthermore, Pember’s book will also serve as an important document that explores not just the events themselves, but the continued legacy and challenges that many descendants of boarding school survivors face. The last chapter also details Bernice’s later years and death, and how Pember was able to eventually learn more about her mother’s life and how she ended up at the Sister’s school. It was different from her mother’s memory, and this chapter served as an interesting way to recognize how the pain and trauma can often cloud our perception of the past, causing us to re-evaluate who was at fault and who we may look to for protection. Although the book was filled with pain and tragedy, Pember does end on a hopeful note, acknowledging her own experience as one of hope and resilience, but also acknowledging that there is still more work and healing to be done. I loved how she used her experience of the jingle dress, a traditional Ojibwe practice for healing, to emphasize the importance of culture to healing and moving on. This is a great book with a powerful message and exploration of both personal experience and its connection to larger events in American history.

Reverential References in Stephen Graham Jones's The Buffalo Hunter Hunter

 The Buffalo Hunter Hunter 

by Stephen Graham Jones

The Buffalo Hunter Hunter book cover

Author Stephen Graham Jones

Blackfeet Indians at Sun Dance

Thank you to Saga Press and NetGalley for allowing me to read and review a copy of Stephen Graham Jones’s new book The Buffalo Hunter Hunter. I’ve read a few other books by Stephen Graham Jones, and my favorite was The Only Good Indians, mostly because it reminded me of a few other books I’ve previously read. While My Heart is a Chainsaw also wore its influences on its pages, I felt like it was almost too referential and the allusions became a little too much for me. It is a creative book, but the continuous references to slashers took away from the story for me. Thankfully, this new book has plenty of historical and literary allusions, but also tempers them so that they do not overwhelm the characters and the plot. In fact, I felt like this was a highly creative and compelling story where Graham inhabits the minds and personas of two very different characters. I also enjoyed the frame narrative that Graham employs to tell his story, using the discovery of a manuscript from the early 20^th century to set the story in motion. Etsy Beaucarne, a professor of communications, received a manuscript of her ancestor, Arthur Beaucarne, a Lutheran minister in Montana, who recorded his interactions and the confessions of Good Stab, an Indian in the town. While I’ve read some reviews that compared this kind of story within a story to Frankenstein and even Dracula, where the log of the Demeter essentially tells the story of what happened on the boat, I actually thought the framing was reminiscent of Heart of Darkness. However, we learn about Arthur’s story and experiences through his journal, but we also learn about Good Stab’s background and history, as well as his confessions through his own recounting to Arthur. This kind of structure creates some unreliability, but also allows us to see the events from different perspectives, especially since many history texts have left out the perspectives of Indians and Indigenous People. Good Stab is somewhat mysterious, and seems to unnerve Arthur initially, but Arthur also seems to be harboring some secrets of his own and doesn’t seem to completely fit into the town. He’s not only different, but some of the men make fun of him. In some ways, he finds a fellow outcast in Good Stab, an Indian on the periphery of the town, near where buffalo were nearly hunted to extinction and a massacre of the Pikuni Tribe previously occurred. Through this framing of the Beaucarne Manuscript as both a journal and a confession, Graham Jones is able to draw some initial parallels between the characters of Arthur and Good Stab. However, as we learn more about Good Stab’s story and origins as a Nachzehrer (I had to look this German word for a folkloric spirit that can drain the life from the living—almost like a vampire in Graham Jones’s novel) or catman, we will eventually learn more about the secrets that Arthur Beaucarne is hiding.

Both Beaucarne and Good Stab have unique voices, and Graham Jones effectively established characteristic differences between the two. However, I found it a little hard to adjust to their different styles at first. For one, Beaucarne writes like an educated member of the upper class from the late 19^th/early 20^th century. I found myself a little lost at times in his musings and observations about the town and Good Stab. As the story picks up and we learn more about both characters, I think I warmed to his peripatetic thoughts, but it takes some adjustment. Nevertheless, Graham Jones authentically re-creates this kind of narrator. I found Good Stab, on the other hand, more entertaining and endearing. His story about transformation from a Pikuni whose family is in the Sandhills (the afterworld) into a creature somewhat like a Vampire is incredible. Graham Jones uses literal names from the Pikunis (I think) to name animals. For example, Good Stab talks about Long-legs, swift-runners, and Blackhorns. It took me some time to figure out what these animals were, but I really enjoyed that kind of language use. It reminded me a lot of Achebe’s use of Igbo in Things Fall Apart. I also kept coming across the word napikwan, which sounded familiar. This is where I realized the similarities with James Welch’s book Fools Crow, which retells the story of the Marias Massacre and how white settlement (or colonizing) preceded this massacre of innocent Blackfeet Indians. In many ways, Good Stab is somewhat like the main character Fools Crow, who also undergoes a renaming and transformation, mostly due to his stories and exaggerations. I felt that Good Stab also exaggerated, but we also learn that there is truth to his stories. Furthermore, we learn that there is also a connection between both Graham Jones’s and Welch’s novel in that the Marias Massacre plays a part in both books. If you have the opportunity to read the Acknowledgement section, make sure you do. Graham Jones talks about visiting Welch’s house and sitting at his desk, which I thought was really amazing giving that the books both memorialize this massacre, giving voice to the dead, and trying, in some ways, to bring the dead back to life.

I’m not completely sure that Good Stab is a vampire, a Nachzehrer, or a Cat Man, but whatever he is, I can see how his ability to live forever is both a blessing and a curse. He’s able to continue to tell his story and recount the atrocities he’s witnessed as settlers continued to overtake the land of the Blackfeet. However, he also has to rely on others to sustain his lifeforce. One of the more interesting and creative twists on this story is the rules that Graham Jones creates for this kind of vampiric creature. I loved how the creature took on the qualities of what is was feeding on. For example, Good Stab noticed that as he was drinking the blood of trappers, he began to grow a beard and his hair color changed. When he drank the blood of animals, like long-legs, he grew antlers. This was a really cool element of the story, and it took the trope of a vampire in a new direction. I also enjoyed that this was also like a revenge story, where Good Stab was pursuing vengeance, not only for his transformation, but also for his people. In some ways, this part reminded me of the excellent film Ganja and Hess, which is also a unique interpretation of the vampire myth. Good Stab is not completely heartless, and he feels some guilt for some of his victims. He also ends up taking care of a buffalo calf named Weasel Plume. This showed that Good Stab was a complicated character, who was capable of both kindness and violence; yet his violence was also a result of his changed nature and interactions with white society. There’s a lot to think about and consider with this book.

In addition to being a historical vampire story that deals with a real-life massacre of Blackfeet Indians, there’s also a mystery happening in the town. The townspeople are ending up murdered in horrific ways. I enjoyed this mystery, and Graham Jones’s descriptions of the deaths are inventive, yet gruesome. For a horror fan, this is a highlight of the book. Furthermore, Beaucarne is haunted by some of these murdered people he has encountered, and he’s trying to understand how he’s connected to these murders.

The ending of the book comes back to the modern day, when things return to Etsy Beaucarne. I also liked her character, even though she’s limited to the beginning and the end. The last part of the book is interesting, but I also felt like it was tonally different from the other parts of the book. Nevertheless, there’s some humor and absurdity that is balanced with the idea of history and tradition and enabling a voice to emerge from the past that was mostly suppressed.  I loved that Good Stab could continue to tell his tale and celebrate his people for his long life. As I was getting towards the end, I also realized that Beaucarne’s name translates to “Good Meat”, which is also something interesting to think about with his character and this book. Although the book is a little long and some of the Beaucarne sections dragged a little with maybe a too-realistic portrayal of a 19th-century clergyman’s observations, it was a creative and compelling book that also tackles issues of culture and violence, as well as assimilation and history. This may not be a book for everyone, but I definitely enjoyed it.