Today’s discussion includes four more books by Indigenous authors adding to the previous days’ bookchat (one, two, three, four), sparked by Indigenous Peoples Day on June 21st.

In Joseph Kakwinokanasum’s My Indian Summer (2022) the chapters are named for songs from Hunter’s youth: from “Love Will Keep us Together” to “Love to Love you Baby”, with “Bat Out of Hell” and “Don’t Bring Me Down” between.

He watches “BJ and the Bear” at a friend’s house, reads his sister’s copy of Stephen King’s Night Shift (also my first foray into King’s territory), and saves the dollars and coins he makes from collecting bottles and cans and minding his trapline (the grandmothers who live in the trailers at the edge of town buy the rabbit meat and fur). He’s following his older sister’s advice: “Save as much money as you can, and make a plan to leave, like I did.”

You can feel the heat and grit of the summer in these pages, but the summer of 1979 takes an unexpectedly eventful turn in the hands of this Cree-Austrian writer: so, soon enough, the novel becomes something of a page-turner. It’s an unassuming story, but it’s one that has really stayed with me over time. (Tidewater Press)

Eli Baxter tells the story of his coming-of-age in Aki-wayn-zih: A Person as Worthy as the Earth (2021). Now a teacher at an Ojibwe school near London, Ontario, his memories are rich with detail and his chronicle is in both Anishnaabemowin and English.

His narrative is a way of “talking about our [First Nations’] past in the present for the future generations” including “mistakes so that others can learn from our stories.”

But it’s also a memoir of childhood:

“The marbles were categorized depending on their markings. A plain marble wasn’t worth anything. A marble with fancy swirls was worth three plain marbles. A clear, see-through markble was worth five plain marbles. The most sought-after marble was the steelie. It was basically a ball bearing. It was worth ten marbles. Marbles were our currency.”

Aki-wayn-zih won the Governor General’s Literary Award and is published by McGill-Queen’s University Press.

Pitu comes of age as a young Inuk man in  Aviaq Johnston’s Those Who Run in the Sky (2017) but Pitu also comes into his own as a shaman as well. (His story continues in Those Who Dwell Below.) The quallupilluq gave me nightmares which is appropriate: they’re intended to do just that! (I first encountered them here.) Midway through the book, it became a “daytime” read but I also felt so drawn to the story that I constantly pushed the limits and read later into the early evening, so invested was I in Pitu’s experiences.

My favourite part about the story was the community and how the relationships expanded, essential for survival in the North historically. I also really loved the part of the story about the Northern Lights, which felt familiar from non-fiction reading but really came to life in Aviaq Johnston’s storytelling. The balance of dark and light elements was so satisfying (not everything turns out perfectly) that, even though I had other books in mind, I picked up the sequel to read straight away. (Inhabit Media/Inhabit Books)

Tasha Hilderman’s Métis Like Me (2024) is the kind of book I would have instantly gravitated towards as a girl. Its brightly coloured cover shows cheerful and contented children lying on the grass and the flowers drawn around the scene are beaded patterns (representing the cultural artwork) so sharply drawn that it seems they’ll be raised if you run your fingertips across them. Risa Hugo’s children have such wide-open eyes that they’re one step from anime style, but several of them have their eyes closed too, lost in contemplation in nature or enjoying music for instance.

The vocabulary and theme are simple: there are many different ways of being Métis. Traditions vary in the community, some people are more traditional than others, some have not been raised with traditions but rediscover them in time. One consistent element is, however, that even if not every Métis family cooks a lot (only some do), it’s implied that everyone (including readers who aren’t Métis) will love eating Bannock.

I loved the fact that when the recipe appears as an illustration in the story, it’s just flour, baking powder, sugar, salt, oil and water; in the back of the book, it’s a full-fledged recipe. It’s a sweet story.

Which of these four appeals to you most in this moment?

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. Only the children’s book is from a mainstream press, so I’ve included links to the other three indie presses above. Strong Nations (shipping from “B.C.”) and Good Minds (shipping from “Ontario”) might be useful for purchasing multiple titles. All four seem to be available as epubs too.