Before it was a federal statutory holiday, it was known as Orange Shirt Day, “an Indigenous-led grassroots commemorative day intended to raise awareness of the individual, family and community inter-generational impacts of residential schools, and to promote the concept of ‘Every Child Matters’”. (Government statement.)

Valuing and learning the stories of First Nations, Inuit, Métis, and Indigenous nations is one avenue by which we can increase our understanding of the past and move towards reconciliation in the present and future.

All the books by these authors that I’ve discussed on BIP are collected in a separate database which includes the authors’ national identities; to recognise September 30th, 2023, however, here are some of the books I’ve read recently: a book of photographs suitable for browsing, a series of Massey Lectures (also available in five hours of listening), a character-driven literary suspense novel, a plot-driven chronicle of coven-ish adventures, and a hockey player’s memoir. (Three of the five are from independent presses, linked below.)

With the pairs of photographs collected by K.C. Adams (an Oji-Cree artist) in Perception: A Photo Series (2019), the subjects are looking directly at her though a lens and, so, directly at you from the page. The first of each pair of photographs is taken in response to her having uttered the kind of racial and cultural slurs that many Indigenous people have faced in their lives with a header like “Tax burden?” or “Welfare mom?” (the cover reflects one such instance); on the second page, is a photograph taken in response to a question posed that reflects something personal with a header that corrects that presumption and accurately reflects them. Kim Wheeler, of the Ojibway and Mohawk nations, defines herself as, for instance, a “mother, writer, publicist, producer, homeowner, golfer, who paid for her own education.” A critical essay by Cathy Mattes describes the series as remedying the “aftershocks of historical colonization and its continuous and present hold on contemporary Canadian society.” (For lit lovers, there’s a foreword by katherena vermette too.) Publisher’s Page

In Tanya Talaga’s All our Relations (2019), she reminds readers that the apartheid system in South Africa was partly modelled on the Indian Act in Canada. Drawing on the experiences of the Guarani in Brazil, the Sami in Scandinavia and Russia, and the Inuit in the Northern Canada and Aboriginals and Torres Strait Islanders in Australia, she considers similarities and differences in their experiences of Indigeneity. As part of the Massey Lectures, the narrative is clear and concise, summarising centuries of history while keeping the focus on the present-day in order to create a more equitable future (with extensive notes for those who wish to explore more fully). Although I recommend Seven Fallen Feathers to readers who are unfamiliar with the issues Talaga explores, readers seeking a broadened perspective will find this second book (set of lectures) helpful in building understanding. Publisher’s Page

Pine Bugs and .303s (2022) is Missanabie Cree First Nation author Ernie Louttit’s first foray into fiction, a literary novel with elements of suspense. His prose style seems to reflect years of experience writing police reports and documentation—lean and functional—but that didn’t interfere with my attachment to his characters and, in fact, it was helpful as the web of relationships widens and the corruption intensifies (over a series of crimes committed). Details in characters’ experiences, following the end of WWII, relay elements of history that aren’t commonly taught in schools: one Cree character loses his Native status and treaty rights after serving in the military during the war, another recalls a specific year as having been the first in which he’d been eligible to vote in Canada, and another has a hard time job-hunting as an RN because she worked in the Indian Hospital (the segregated health care system rumoured to spread diseases like TB). Publisher’s Page

Those who loved Métis author Cherie Dimaline’s Empire of Wild will enjoy her most recent novel, VenCo (2023), which has the strong female characters of her short fiction debut combined with the streamlined commercial storytelling of her best-selling novel The Marrow Thieves (often shelved as YA—a marketing mystery). A great summer read, or a not-so-spooky-but-still-Octobery read for those who don’t want to be super scared. Less horror-y than Eden Robinson’s Trickster trilogy with more of a screenplay-in-the-wings feel to it than Richard van Camp’s stories.

“She wasn’t quite sure what she was waiting for, but she knew that something was on the way. She could smell it. It was like what glass would smell like if it had a scent, cold and hard. That was when she started writing, pages and pages of messy text, trying to pin it down, trying to understand.”

Eventually Fred Sasakamoose would become Chief of the Ahtahkakoop Cree Nation, but everyone knows him for his hockey career. He played mostly for the Chicago Black Hawks and learned the game from his grandfather. “Hockey was the thread that seemed to hold y life, my story, together. What started on that frozen slough with my moosum Alexan has always been part of who I am.” He recalls the importance of having seen George Armstrong play, viewing him as the first Indigenous player in the leagues (technically his mother was Ojibway but his father was white). His memoir Call Me Indian (2021) does cover his hockey experiences, but just as memorable are his more personal triumphs and challenges. “It’s a great privilege to be asked to share your story with the world. And when you have that opportunity, it’s important to convey the heartache, the mistakes, the darkness. Perhaps it may help others to see that they are not alone.” Written with Meg Masters, the language in the memoir is clear and casual, so you feel as though he is speaking directly to you, at the kitchen table: simply sharing stories.

In my stack currently, are Michelle Porter’s A Grandmother Begins the Story, Marie Hess’ Going Back Home, and Drew Hayden Taylor’s Motorcycles & Sweetgrass, along with the September/October 2023 issue of World Literature Today featuring the Indigenous Literatures of the Americas: all in various states of completion. Tomorrow I’ll be reading at least one of them.

Would be interested to hear about similar national commemorative days in other places, as well as other reading recommendations for Indigenous stories and storytellers, or perhaps simply which of these five books most immediately appeals to you?