It’s Indigenous Peoples Day, and I have a variety of reading selections to share over the next few days: something for every reading mood.
Pawaminikititicikiw’s (Wilfred Buck’) Kitcikisik (Great Sky) published in 2021, is a great introduction to Indigenous cosmology by a First Nations author, writing from within the Ininew (Cree) tradition, making it accessible to everyone.
He presents a series of large-scale, colourful images by Mistawasis Buck, with the stars in each constellation highlighted inside and the corresponding mythology in English on the facing page. (For some constellations, the following spread includes two translations by Cam Robertson, one in Cree and one in Cree syllabics, but not all the stories are translated,)
The first tells the story of Atima Acakosuk, the Dog Stars: the three stars in the handle of what’s also known as the “Little Dipper”. The four stars in the bowl represent the four directions to which the puppies were sent.
For each constellation there’s also a star map (and someone from NASA in the credits too, with names and symbols that a more science-y reader would appreciate).
Check out The Turtle (and there are other short informative videos on the channel too).
There’s also a picture of the Seven Sisters Spirit Constellation in the back of Bagone-Giizhig (The Hole in the Sky) (2021) by Leonard and Mary Moose, Anishnaabeg (Ojibwe) storytellers, which tells the story of the First People. You can read a little about them and see a photo of them together here, along with some of their other books.
This story is illustrated by Leonard, in ink and coloured pencils. It’s shelved in the children’s section and is told in English with key terms in Anishnaabemowin in red (with English translations alongside, in brackets) but ordinary words (like ‘wow’ and ‘yes’) incorporated into the text, so they read naturally.
There are entire passages translated in the back, via photographs of Leonard’s handwritten Anishnaabemowin; these offer a more complete story, for Anishnaabemowin readers). The introduction states: “Many of our Anishinaaabeg Teachings are recorded in the stars, which are our real sacred texts, not books like this one.” Like the story, this reminds readers from other cultures that everything shifts when your worldview emerges from the natural world.
Caleb Gayle’s We Refuse to Forget: A True Story of Black Creeks, American Identity, and Power (2022) is likely an even-more-rewarding read for those readily familiar with southern North American history and geography, but even without a working knowledge in those subjects interesting questions emerge.
Gayle’s priority is the “faux science that undergirded racism” and how it justifies shifting power dynamics. How are Blackness, Indigeneity, and American defined and re-defined, and how is one included or excluded from those identities?
These are not new questions but here Gayle focuses on a group of Black people who were fully integrated into the Creek Nation a hundred years prior, only to have tribal leaders expel their descendants in the 1970s. “Imagine having to find blood that doesn’t exist—not because your father isn’t Creek, but because blood quantum was an arbitrary maneuver engineered by white men to determine how little land Indigenous people could keep.” (How tribes continue to use Blood Quantum is explored in Penobscot writer Morgan Talty’s new novel, Fire Exit, too.)
The aspects of the narrative that I most enjoyed were the grittier, nuanced bits where Gayle circles around the issues and occasionally leaves some questions unanswered—as with, for instance, his discussion about how the slavery inherent to the Creek Nation differed from the slavery they later adopted from southern, white slaveowners.
In a sense, much of Selina Boan’s Undoing Hours (2021) is about belonging too, as the poet works to learn the nehiyaw (Cree) language as a white settler-nehiyaw writer. It reminded me a little of the intimate process of learning a new language, as described in a novel by Xiaolu Guo, how core it can be for one’s identity, how much things shift and, even, transform. Readers, too, learn terms (like ‘frying pan’ and ‘fridge’ and ‘window’ in “my mother’s oracle cards said”) and quietly understand the significance of “in cree there is no word for half/brother”. One of my favourites is “minimal pairs are words holding hands” which presents the pairs, each in their own stanza, running from top to bottom of the page rather than side-to-side. There’s braiding hair and closet renovations, but there’s an epigraph from Anne Carson too: something for every reading mood. (Nightwood)
…between the warmth of language
and a four-walled room, a girl clicks beginner
cree on the internet, a divided circle…[…]
nîpin
summer in northern Saskatchewan
thick with mosquitoes
July hatching
heart
“in six, the seasons”
Next, there will be talk of three other remarkable reads. Which of these stands out to you today?
NOTE: Whenever I post about Indigenous works, it’s quickly apparent how difficult it can be, especially for international readers, and for North American readers without ready access to a local independent bookseller, to access a book of interest. Of these four, only Caleb Gayle’s is from a mainstream publisher. If you’re interested in the others, both Strong Nations (shipping from “B.C.”) and Good Minds (shipping from “Ontario”) might be useful for your Indigenous reading generally, and Good Minds seems to be the only source for the first two books here (perhaps POD). Both strive to assist with soaring postage costs too. And I’ve included a link for the poetry collection to the publisher’s website, which in turn includes four purchasing options for epubs.
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I have taken a while to get to your posts because, these days, I usually read the notifications of new posts on my phone in the morning, and your posts are now all showing on the phone with all the coding (as we’ve discussed). Why, I have no idea. Anyhow, I now have time to sit at my laptop and read other posts rather than do all the jobs I come to the laptop to do!
I guess it was simplistic of me, but I didn’t realise that other cultures had Seven Sisters stories. Seven Sisters are significant across many First Nations Australian countries, from those on the west right across. And now I see you have them too. So, that book interested me.
That whole blood quantum issue came up on another blog the other day. It is a discredited issue in Australia and is not used for identification purposes at all. At least I don’t believe it is though there may be some jurisdiction that does and I just haven’t heard. The focus here is your connection to culture rather than “how much blood” you have.
I love that you discussed availability at the end of this post.
Very occasionally, I have that issue on my phone too, and for me it’s a matter of how quickly the info is travelling, so the device has gotten caught up in the code and hasn’t fully/properly loaded to display as intended. I’m sorry it’s happening on the regular for you: it’s not pretty. Perhaps not functional either…you’d have to scroll for a week just to get to the bottom of the page where the comments live.
My sense is that although the federal government’s use/imposition/enforcement of blood quantum has been disparaged (principles remaining intact for “administrative” purposes, however), variations of this practice continue within and between Indigenous nations/communities. Although it’s simple to define a Pretendian, it’s complicated when a charge is levied against a high-profile (and/or high-earning) individual’s ancestry, when some community members continue to rely on blood and official registry details and others talk about cultural engagement and kinship ties.
My Indigenous reading began with “American” writers initially, but my experience with their nations remains sketchy (gradually building), as I continue to explore more northern writers; I hope to read some more First Nations Australian stories and see where/how/if these storytellers align.
Excellent post and sorry I missed the Day, as I have quite a few Indigenous books on my TBR.
It’s the whole month here, actually, but Solstice ceremonies give the 21st a particular significance.
You’ve come up with some interesting books.To my shame I spend a lot of time outside, day and night, and recognise almost no stars at all.
It’s something I’ve been wanting to spend more time with myself. I think it requires constant tending while you’re learning because there’s so much fluctuation in visibility. And you’re so often on a tight schedule, but you would have terrific viewing conditions lying on the roof of your trailer!
I appreciate your mention of how to actually source the books, as I’ve been told a few times that some of the smaller press books I review are hard to come by for our international readers. In some cases people have contacted the Canadian publisher directly and they’ve managed to get them a copy! It’s pretty cool.
For any curious reader with a long TBR list, I think we expect to hunt a little, but when it’s not easy to locate these books and you live near the publishers, it makes sense to do a little of the sourcing research. Also, these are awesome online retailers offering an alternative to the big-box model, for readers who want to read more Indigenous fiction, say, but don’t know where to begin.
All new to me and I’m presumably the person who can find these books. 😉 Kitcikisik sounds particularly fascinating.
It’s one that I wanted to have on the shelf after the borrowing period, for sure. It would be a lovely travelling companion for when you’re headed north and have a different view of the stars!
Great Sky and Hole in the Sky looks wonderful! It’s always fun to hear star stories of various cultures.
I’m guessing Hole in the Sky would be available in your library systems, as one of the authors was from land south of today’s Canada/U.S border, not far from you.
Bagone-Giizhig is indeed available in my library system 🙂
There’s probably more overlap, when it comes to Anishnaabeg stories, between your libraries and mine than with libraries on the east and west coasts of “Canada”, ironically…reminding us why these communities view the present-day border between the “U.S.” and “Canada” as an “imposed border”.
Fascinating post.
Thanks for the explanations.
Thanks, Emma!