Elissa Washuta’s White Magic (2021) is a personal narrative of searching and locating boundaries about her own self amid the context of colonization. (She is a member of the Cowlitz tribe.)
Her writing is considered experimental but it passes for conventional prose at first glance; much of her work is structured traditionally, in the sense that each paragraph is building on the previous paragraph, but where she reliably departs is with the idea that there is an epiphany, a conscious realization or understanding that exists for the writer at the end of the piece which she did not possess at the beginning.
The sense of motion, of progression, is disrupted; this could represent authenticity for some readers, whereas others will miss the sense of a resolution.
My reading experience fell between those two states; there were moments at which I felt the excitement of an unfinished self—and I am committed to the idea of writing as a means of ordering the universe for a writer—but there were other moments where the authenticity felt performative.
White Magic raises some fascinating issues: Where does the writer begin-and-end and how does the woman with her memories of trauma and ongoing mental health issues order her world by putting words on a page? Some of this is discussed in her interview with David Naimon on “Between the Covers”.
I love the abundance of epigraphs in the volume, and I was intrigued by the fact that so many of them repeated (one by Alice Notley, the other by Louise Erdrich) but I did not love the idea that she originally repeated them as placeholders and then left the repetition in, to see if readers were paying attention. As a fellow epigraph-lover, that felt like the cheap-mood-ring kind of magic.
Jordan Abel’s Nishga (2021) is a work of art. Also a fantastic place to launch yourself into his work. Injun (2016) would fit more easily into a pocket or backback (and it won the Griffin Poetry Prize). the place of scraps (2014) is also more compact and feels very intimate. But Nishga touches on earlier projects while still peeling away fresh layers of selfhood.
For readers seeking a greater understanding, of the legacy of intergenerational trauma inherited by the survivors and descendants of the indigenous peoples who were forced to attend governmental residential schools, one can turn to a variety of sources:
- An illustrated series of fictionalized experiences by David Robertson in Seven Generations (2012)
- A slim novel (or film) by Richard Wagamese called Indian Horse (2012)
- A memoir like Edmund Metatawabin’s (with Alexandra Shimo), Up Ghost River
- The Summary of the Final Report of the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (2015, available as a PDF)
- A chunky, polyphonic novel like Michelle Good’s Five Little Indians
And, now, Nishga. Both a personal and sociological document, with family photos and art and court documents, this volume has an unusual structure with unexpected heft and resonance.
It feels like a collage, so freshly compiled that the glue is sticky in places. But it’s also so refined, with its glamorous red end-papers tucked inside a smooth white cover which also presents a hint of the insides (his parents’ photograph and some snippets of his experiment with Fenimore Cooper’s The Last of the Mohicans—with all the bits about the “Savages” deleted).
At first glance, the kind of text that suggests reader will be kept at a distance. The most consistent element of the narrative appears to be a transcript, which is actually a series of excerpts from audio recordings. It feels technical with the strip of exact time (hours, minutes and seconds) down one side of the page alongside the narrative.
But these transcripts are punctuated by excerpts from previous publications, the poet’s own and others (including his mother’s diary, webpages, texts that present commentary on indigeneity, and the author’s personal notes and reflections scattered throughout. It all feels very personal, very revealing. And this is accentuated because it begins with a short open letter and ends with a longer one.
His language is simple but, ultimately, the work is very moving. As one reads through these fragments, one wonders if the steady accumulation of personal detail is only an unusual way to convey the devastating effects that have lingered from the residential school system in (the land currently called) Canada but, as the pages turn, it becomes apparent that it’s also a startlingly affective way to release and reflect deep-seated emotions. If I wasn’t already an Abel fan, this would have converted me in short order.
These indigenous posts are fascinating. I think the experimental aspect of White Magic does put me off a little. I suppose I can read experimental, but I have to be in the right mood.
One good thing about increased visibility for Indigenous writers is that one can find the Indigenous writers whose style is a great fit for one’s reading taste, rather than having to read the one or two Indigenous authors whose work has been published. (But of course those earlier “representatives” did prove to publishers that Indigenous stories are marketable.)
[…] BIP […]
I am tempted by White Magic, the idea of processing memoir through a series of unresolved essays appeals, both to read and to write. I wish to follow Sartre, my idea of Sartre, to write an idea over and over, making small progress each time, but maybe never reaching a ‘resolution’.
Ohhh, that’s an interesting synchronicity you’ve recognized there–so you might appreciate her kind of “progress” through this collection. In her interview with David Naimon, I found it interesting to hear how she describes being a different person in each of the books she’s written even when she is writing through the same subject-matter (I’m not doing her description justice) which kind of felt like that similar-but-different roundabout. Though I suspect this would be the only one of her books available to you (if it even is, via Tin House, albeit a “big indie” in the U.S.) as the others aren’t available up here even-let alone overseas.
The difficulties I have. Washuta is Cowlitz. Look up Cowlitz – may be a name applied by Europeans to four separate language groups in the Pacific Northwest. Look up Pacific Northwest – the northwest of the USA (Washington state etc.). Getting there! (though is there a northwest of USA that is not Pacific?)
Check Audible. White Magic is there, though I suspect I would appreciate the paper version more – a problem for my local Indie.
Will come back soon, but you might be in an exploring mood now, even as I’m thinking about calling it a night? 🙂 This likely only creates more questions, but it’s very cool. https://native-land.ca/
What a great map!
The Australian section seems to correspond with our AIATSIS map which only loosely corresponds with how Aboriginal people describe themselves. For instance, the people of my corner of Western Australia, the Noongar, have 14 “sub” languages. “Noongar” doesn’t appear on the AIATSIS map at all, instead the individual languages do (though not all 14). It’s the same for the Yamaji, the next nation to the north. And the spreading out of the Western Desert group, particularly southwards to Kalgoorlie (in WA and to Ceduna (in SA) is not shown, though I’m pretty sure the language groups along the central south coast – the Great Australian Bight – have been largely subsumed.
I find the first map on my Aboriginal Australia page much more helpful.
I’m guessing all the above applies to Native American language groups too, as I have read a little about how they were overrun, pushed inland and confined to reservations.
Part of my problem of course is the differences between place names, language names, and the names people use for their ‘mob’.
I’m loving your Indigenous posts! I’ve been curious about Jordan Abel’s book, I felt badly for him when its publication had to be pushed back last year but I’m hoping he has a wider audience because of it’s delayed release. I’ve never read his work before but this is definitely on my list. Plus those red end papers! Sounds gorgeous 🙂
It’s a work of art for sure. Hopefully some of the decisions made by publishers last year will even out, in time. I’m not sure I understand why his book, in particular, would have been selected to be postponed, because it’s not really the kind of work one can support with in a traditional “tour and read from the book” kind of way anyhow. But maybe the decisions were made on the basis of a balance-sheet and not on a book-by-book basis. shrugs Who knows.
I’d read a positive review of White Magic here: https://whatsnonfiction.com/2021/04/30/survival-trauma-and-white-magic/ so I was already intrigued. Thanks for introducing my to Jordan Able. I definitely need to explore more Indigenous writers.
The fact that writing by Indigenous writers is so hard to find supports the whole mythology of the “disappearing Native”, so I don’t believe it’s an accident that readers have to actively seek out these stories. Then the whole “exceptionalism” thing gets into the mix, and someone like Alexie or Tommy Orange breaks through (and then is positioned as being a spokesperson, which doesn’t work for anyone, least of all the author, who often becomes a lightning rod for resentment and anger afterwards), as if it’s either one or none…but there are so many great Indigenous storytellers to read.
Jordan Abel’s book looks fascinating and visceral. Not sure about the experimental nature of White Magic which is weird as this one is multi-formed and experimental, too, I think. It’s a shame so few of these books are available here at prices that will appeal to the mass of readers, as it’s important to know about other countries’ Indigenous populations, many of whom British people oppressed, of course.
Not always one for experimental style myself (other than puzzle novels, which you know I love “assembling”, which you’re not so fond of), I’ve been thinking about your comment and I think the reason that I find Abel so accessible is because he’s writing poetry, a form that makes me feel like a wanderer when I step into that territory on the page; there is literally a lot of white space in his books (I don’t think that’s accidental) and you can enter from a variety of directions. Whereas White Magic is an essay collection from the outside and, so, that set of expectations settles on my reader’s shoulders after just a few pages. Expectations: so tricky.
I’ve been following along too and enjoying this exposure to new writers. White Magic sounds very interesting: I like the idea of disrupting the traditional structure or playing with readers’ expectations.
It’s a really interesting book and she’s been getting a lot of publicity for it (at least, more than I imagine a similar book would have gotten ten years ago)!
Wow. Just to say I’ve been following along. A bunch of fascinating authors I’ve mostly never heard of. (I’ve read some Sherman Alexie, but that’s it.)
Thanks for popping by: I’m always happy to add to your TBR and all of these are available via TPL (and I’ve returned them all by now LOL).