Last time, I wrote about three books by Indigenous writers (three prior, four before that), and today I’m writing about three more: a work of art and history, a memoir, and a novel.
Carey Newman and Kirstie Hudson’s Picking up the Pieces: Residential School Memories and the Making of the Witness Blanket (2019) is an oversized book with an abundance of glossy photographs and just enough text to illuminate the stories behind the blanket. On the reverse of the dust jacket cover, is a complete photograph of the witness blanket (also visible at witnessblanket.ca).
Newman’s a Kwakwaka’wakw and Coast Salish artist and Hudson’s a veteran CBC journalist. From an artist’s perspective the book is fascinating (when and how to incorporate burnt items from the residential school sites, when and how to include photographs reproduced on wood, for instance).
But the book also summarises beautifully the complex history of these political policies, through the stories of individual survivors and family members. The love notes exchanged between students (with codes like ITALY, I Truly Always Love You) and the photographs of hockey players on the open ice remind readers that these experiences are diverse and varied and all deserving of attention, alongside the persistent prejudice, and the genocidal systemic intent to assimilate.
If you’ve not learned about the residential school system, this could be an amazing introduction. (Orca Books)
Clayton Thomas-Müller’s Life in the City of Dirty Water (2021) gives family-reunion vibes. You can’t help but fall into the rhythm of this Cree author’s storytelling, the way that one memory leads to another.
It’s an easy and welcoming tone, the incidents of racism and opportunities limited by class and circumstance, counterpointing with elements of good fortune and comical anecdotes.
Because “anger is not enough if what you want is justice”: his mother often quoted Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X, and Chief Dan George. As time passes, his personal awareness and understanding of his role in the community add an element of wisdom and instruction to his story.
“We do not believe in evil the way that Christians do. We know that darkness is not something that just inhabits the underworld. It lurks in all of us, and it is dangerous to nurture it. The most horrifying idea comes not from the darkness of the forest but from the darkness of our hearts.”
Even though they’re no longer new, both Life in the City of Dirty Water and this next book are consistently in demand at the public library; I watched for interest to trail off, but ultimately placed my own hold, and read them straight away because renewing wouldn’t likely be an option.
Okanagan writer Brian Thomas Isaac’s All the Quiet Places (2021) is a coming-of-age story, told via remembrance. There are some familiar themes, including the community’s struggle with inherited trauma from the residential school system: “You are wastin’ your breath if you think me or anybody else on the reserve would ever think of sending their kids to St. Mary’s. Somebody should go up there and burn that place to the ground.”
There are also descriptions of migrant agricultural work, and a romance that starts with house-cleaning, so some unexpected elements too. His plain speech plays defense to sentimentality: “It’s something when you wish you were born to different family.” But there are some poetic bits too: “Soapsuds hung down from her elbows like icicles dripping onto the floor. (Touchwood)
Next, I’ll write about three more books by Indigenous writers. Which of these appeals to you most, in your current reading mood?
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 who can access books from small and independent publishers, to access a book of interest. Of these three, only Clayton Thomas-Müller’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 I’ve linked to the indie publisher for each of the other two titles, both of which offer epubs (and there’s even an audiobook available for All the Quiet Places, via audible, but perhaps not internationally available).
The first two sound so good! I read the last one, and really enjoyed it. His writing was stark, but beautiful, as you pointed out. I’d love to know more about the witness blanket – I’ve heard bits and bobs about it, but no doubt seeing it in person would be life changing…
It’s astonishing, on so many levels. I’m sure, with the Human Rights Museum being out your way (not nearby, but closer than for most people reading this post), you’d be able to find a copy of the book, whether in the library or in a shop, although I suspect it’d be harder for most people to find such an expensive, glossy-paged, gorgeous hardcover.
And here’s a link to Anne’s review too!
Life in the city of dirty water is particularly appealing, partly for “anger is not enough if what you want is justice” and partly for that discussion of the understanding of evil. It has a good cover, but so too does All the quiet places.
Because I had the idea that it was going to be a more overtly political book (e.g. Tanya Talaga), I was pleasantly surprised to fall hard into personal stories (which are, of course, political, too) in LitCoDW.
It is, suitably, a quieter, understated image: striking in its own way.
My goodness, all three sound good! I’ll look to see if my library has them or perhaps Spotify audiobooks. Our library Interlibrary loan department is very good about getting things from around the country too.
I depend heavily on the ILL systems, not just the inner-city system but the province-wide system (it’s been ages since I had an ILL from outside Ontario, but I used to get books from B.C. occasionally).
They all sound good! Love the cover art on Life in the City
Me too: I like how the subtitle is positioned as well, reminding us of relationships with the land.
I like the sound of all these, particularly Life in the City of Dirty Water. Love the idea of evil not being something “out there” in the forest but something that lurks in all of us and needs to be guarded against. I think a lot of damage comes from that idea of keeping ourselves pure from the evil out there—a lot of the ills of colonialism stem from the same kind of thinking.
As soon as I started reading it, I understood why the hold list was so relentless; it really is as though you’re all sitting around a table and one topic leads to another and another and another.
Do you think it’s another way of guarding against the practice of “othering”? This reminder that everyone has the capacity to make choices that harm others, not that there are only a few who are capable of doing so? It seems like we are seeing a lot of evidence of this in headlines today, people forgetting that while standing up for justice for one community, one must take care to not trample on justice for another community along the way.
Life in the City of Dirty Water is available in the UK on Amazon and bookshop.org so I’ve just wishlisted it.
I think you’ll really enjoy the tone/spirit of this one, Liz. His having a Big Five publisher certainly does help with accessibility.
All the Quiet Places is available from Audible Australia. I have spare credits. Ergo, I am about to buy it.
Ahhh, thank you for saying so, and I think it’ll be good company on the road, as a boy’s tale. I think it’s fab that you regularly click on the Indigenous and Canadian offerings through Audible, encouraging them, as a single reader among many, to continue to produce and retail stories like these.