One-Minute Book Review: The Hunger Games

The Hunger Games Trilogy (Suzanne Collins)

Confession time: I love me a good magical world. When I was younger, I devoured Harry Potter, eagerly awaiting each new release, and Lord of the Rings. Over the past year, I've fallen in love with authors who tell a seemingly real life story and inject it with a hint of mysticism: Junot Diaz's The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao, Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children, and Gabriel Garcia Marquez's Love in the Time of Cholera.

The Hunger Games trilogy, while not quite magic, was definitely out of this world. The back cover reviews from Stephen King and Stephanie Meyer piqued my interest. Although I've never read the Twilight Saga, the movies are, admittedly, a guilty pleasure of mine.

Imagine my surprise when I crack the cover of The Hunger Games to find that it is more a story about our people than Twilight ever was, even with its depiction of the Quileute nation (or, more accurately, in spite of...). Skin colour is scarcely mentioned in the novels, except in reference to the crazy Capitol-ites who dye their skin green and blue. Instead, the Hunger Games is a story of oppression, bravery, love, war, innocence, healing, and hunting.

I fervently flipped through the pages, gasping every now and again as R.J. demanded, "What did Katniss do now?" I suggest you pick up the books and learn for yourself!

Now, as with so many great books, I can only hope the filmmakers get it right...

Two-Minute Book Review: Life Stages and Native Women

Life Stages and Native Women: Memory, Teachings, and Story Medicine (Kim Anderson)

So, you're supposed to read the entire book before you write a review, right? Well, I have a confession: I've only read the foreword and introduction.

In my defense, I'm a firm believer that the introduction is the most important part of the book. (Ask R.J.--I was aghast to learn that he skipped the introductions to his books and, needless to say, he doesn't do that anymore.) Why? The textbook answer is that "it sets the tone." As an aspiring writer and scholar, I am interested in the story of the person writing the book: why they chose this topic, what their processes were, how they feel now that they've finished it. The introduction is where you listen to that story.

I got my book in the mail the day after attending Kim Anderson's book launch here in Ottawa at the Wabano Centre for Aboriginal Health. A shame that I couldn't get her to sign it, but they say everything happens for a reason. I was half an hour late for the launch (working at a university in September, it's impossible to leave by 5) and Kim was well into her reading. The room reminded me of gatherings at the community hall back home. Hectic. A baby was crying, couches and chairs all spoken for, a girl lying on the ground in the fetal position. (Okay, maybe that last one didn't remind me of home.) But, Kim's voice rose above the bustle, as she spoke from the heart about the tradition of finding a tree at whose trunk to lay an infant's umbilical cord; the role of old ladies in cleaning/preparing dead bodies and feeling "death without loss" (thanks Kat); and her love for Maria Campbell.

Kim describes her intimate relationship with Maria Campbell. She talks about how, dejected and discouraged at not being able to get an interview for the book, Maria took her by the wrist and pronounced, "We'll do it together!" (I can picture Maria, now an elder, just as energetic as she was in the youth/adulthood she describes in Halfbreed, determined to get everything from her family's stories to political clout to an escape from the streets.)

In reading texts like these, I look for opportunities to identify a relationship with the seven sacred Grandmother/Grandfather teachings: wisdom, love, humility, courage, honesty, respect, truth. Writing with an honest voice, Kim's introduction is both courageous and humble. In the margins of my copy of the book I've scribbled "honest" as Kim references her anxieties in the introduction's opening paragraph, and "humble" next to where she writes:

I have not lived long enough nor have I done all of the work that is necessary to carry this knowledge.

Perhaps that's why I've found it easy to refer to her as "Kim" in this (slightly longer than) one-minute review rather than "Dr. Anderson" or, *shudder,* the detached "Anderson."

But, the most important pencil scribblings I've made in the margins are these: ask Nanny this question; Mal & R.J. to do this; where does Grandpa fit in these categories?

Kim's book, although adapted from her dissertation, is not an academic text. Sure, a student can reference it in their papers and no professors will think twice about it because she "is" a PhD. It caused me, as I'm sure it will others, to situate myself and my partner and my grandparents and my family in the text. It isn't written in some distant academic jargon; Kim promises teachings about pregnancy and vision quests and how to deal when you're "stuck" in one life stage. Her book will for me act as a "guide" (for lack of a better word) to understand myself and reconstruct my spirituality and relationships with those around me.

This book is so much more than just a book for us as Native women, families, communities, nations.

It is us.

One-Minute Book Review: The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao (Junot Diaz)

'The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao' would have been perfect for my now defunct book club. As soon as I finished it, I found myself wishing I had a friend with whom to discuss it. I didn't, so I resorted to the next best thing: Googling New York Times book reviews and book club questions.

Always one to root for the underdog, I wanted to discuss what I hoped would be a mutual affection for Oscar, the deeply flawed protagonist who turned stereotypes of Dominican men on their heads with his superbly nerdy vocabulary and hopeless romanticism.

As an aspiring writer, I often turn to other writers' "Top 5" or "Top 10" writing tips. One that sticks with me is to read the works of non-English authors. This was a tip I struggled with because probably 75% of my library these days is filled with Native fiction and non-fiction written in English. Although the majority of Junot Diaz's writing is in English, he integrated Spanish (sans translation or italics) and, at times, his use of Dominican-Jersey slang read a world away.

And lastly, this book is worth a read if only for its strong female characters. Although Oscar and the novel's narrator are male, at times their stories fall to the wayside as we meet Oscar's sister, mother, and great-aunt, whose equally powerful characters are what make Oscar, Oscar.

One-Minute Book Review: The Moon of Letting Go

The Moon of Letting Go and other stories (Richard Van Camp)

This book was given to me as a gift by a professor who requested that I speak to her Native Lit class about my master's research. A pretty awesome gift, especially considering that I read and loved Van Camp's coming-of-age novel, The Lesser Blessed.

These short stories are divided into four sections: Healing, Medicine, Teachings and Love. While the stories don't shy away from the grit and grind of rez and urban Indian life, many of the stories have happy endings (or maybe just endings I've interpreted as happy) and show that there can be a good outcome for someone who might typically be called "the bad guy."

Being the hopeless romantic that I am, I loved the three stories in the last section, 'Love.' But, I was particularly struck by the title story, "The Moon of Letting Go" (from 'Medicine'). It's the story of a mother and son, estranged from the other members of their family--an ex-husband and two sons--who get "accosted" by the last medicine man in their community, known and feared for practicing black magic. The line between black and white, good and evil is blurred as the mother and son spend time with the mysterious medicine man, moving forward with a weary trust and belief.

It reminded me of this one time I personally came into contact with some black magic, but I'll save that story for another time.... (Ellipses are so Van Camp.)

One-Minute Book Review: Through Black Spruce

Through Black Spruce (Joseph Boyden)

There were a number of times I picked up and read the back cover of this book at Chapters, only to place it back on the shelves. While I always enjoy a story that I can relate to, I also appreciate certain degree of escapism and distance between myself and a novel's content. In this book the two main characters' story lines hit close to home: Will Bird, the former bush pilot, reminded me of ni-awema (my brother) who got his wings last summer, and Annie Bird's sister, Suzanne, who is missing, recalled the work I did as a researcher for an initiative that related to missing and murdered Native women and girls.

At a buy three, get one free sale at Chapters, I could no longer find reasons not to buy it. After reading the first chapter, I could no longer understand why I waited so long. I missed the Bird family, whom I'd first met in Three Day Road, and all of their habits and insights.

I was particularly drawn to the story of Annie's search for her sister, Suzanne, and her travels 'through black spruce' to the cityscapes of Toronto and New York City, and back home again. I could relate to her perspective as a girl from the rez who became intoxicated by life in the city and all of the cheap thrills it has to offer.

It goes without saying for anyone who's read Boyden or even heard of him that the writing in this book is beautiful. I've already purchased my copy of his third book, Louis Riel and Gabriel Dumont, which is part of Penguin's Extraordinary Canadians Series.

One-Minute Book Review: All That We Say Is Ours

All That We Say Is Ours: Guujaaw and the Reawakening of the Haida Nation (Ian Gill)

This book was constantly pulling me in two directions: one, where I enjoyed the format and the content, and another where I couldn't wait to be through with it.

For all intents and purposes, I totally judged this book by its cover. I *loved* its name. It is so simple and powerful, and reflects the title naming process that I (try to) emulate in my essay writing. What I understood to be the format - a mix of oral history, interviews, the author's reflections, legal history, media of the time, and so on - intrigued me as well.

I didn't so much appreciate the writing style. When the (non-Native) author took the text in his own direction, it was so clearly not the voice of the people that I found myself reading in a British accent in my head. He used western idioms and quoted mostly non-Native scholars.

Of course, he has the right to - it's his book and I, as a reader, have chosen to give it a chance. And that is where I started to kick myself in the butt. While reading this book I also picked up Through Black Spruce by Joseph Boyden and This is an Honour Song edited by Leanne Simpson and Kiera Ladner. Particularly as I reached the last couple of chapters I kept thinking, Life is simply too short and there are too many talented Native writers for me to be spending my time on a book like this.

Now, this review could quickly turn into a post about my idea of non-Native people writing about Native peoples. So I will turn to one thing (of a few) I liked. The book ends with (spoiler alert - d'uh) a speech given by Guujaaw (the subject of the book) about the late Bill Reid. The last line of his speech epitomizes a feeling I get that is so hard to describe. It feels like I was born to be Anishinabe, and that that fact is somehow incredible to me.

Final thought: This book might be interesting for Canadians looking to learn a bit more about Haida culture and worldviews, environmentalism and First Nations' experiences in Canadian courts, but it's always better to hear a story told by the people who live(d) it.