Who? Where?

“Since 1993 Kegedonce Press has been crafting beautiful books that involve Indigenous Peoples at all levels of production. […]

Indigenous owned and operated, Kegedonce is based at Neyaashiinigmiing, on the traditional territory of the Chippewas of Nawash First Nation.

Our owner and Managing Editor is Kateri Akiwenzie-Damm of the Chippewas of Nawash; our Publishing Manager is Renee K. Abram, of the Oneida Nation (Onyota’a:ka), Wolf clan.” (More.)

[On the colonizers’ map, this is Bruce County in the near-north of Ontario, unceded territory identified as the Cape Croker Reserve.]

Read Indies: Hosted by Karen and Lizzy

First encounters? Probably one of Marilyn Dumont’s poetry books, discussed here on the occasion of rereading That Tongued Belonging (2007).

Other Kegedonce Reading:
Gregory Scofield’s Love Medicine and One Song (2007)
Cherie Dimaline’s A Gentle Habit (2015)
David Groulx’s Under God’s Pale Bones (2010) and Wabigoon River (2015)

And, notably, Richard van Camp’s Angel Wing Splash Pattern (2001) which I read after discovering Godless But Loyal to Heaven in 2013. All of van Camp’s short fiction is interconnected and I waded into the middle of it all, but the 20th Anniversary Edition reprint of AWSP would be the best place to begin, to “meet” many of the key recurring characters when the author was also just getting acquainted with them. (There are two comics in the back of the reissue as well.)

RECENT READ: Sharron Proulx-Turner’s Creole Métisse Of French Canada, me (2018)

Opening with an introduction by Aruna Srivastava, written in September 2017, readers learn that this volume is assembled from work that Sharron created while coping with “incredible pain and with great fortitude.”

Aruna shares memories of being in Sharron’s hospice room and refers to and quotes others who loved Sharron, including Richard van Camp, who says:

“Dance you sweet Aunt of Light. Dance and sing. You are free. You will always be honoured for your courage, your bravery, your grace. Mahsi cho for your life as ceremony and mahsi cho for reminding us all to have more fun, to make time for feasting and to host the ceremonies that the world needs and deserves.”

The bulk of the volume, however, is dedicated to Sharron Proulx-Turner’s own voice and story.

The short pieces read like vignettes but frequently open with an epigraph that creates a bridge from the author’s personal experiences and memories to the historical record. So her words open Sweeping the House: “my aunty used to say, when québec wakes up there’ll be six million more indians. simple logic or history lesson.” There’s also a short snippet which situates readers in the colonial pattern, first threading from the 17th century.

“all these words used for naming us métis—all from outsiders,” she continues. “Through the world there’s a habit of outside naming, outside framing. No different for us métis.”

The author’s voice is strong and clear—you never lose sight of her. At the same time, within the short pieces, there is a lot of history: ideas about blood quantum for instance, (in the context of the Daniels ruling in 2013), and about missing and murdered Indigenous people (beginning with reference to Helen Betty Osborne’s death on November 13, 1971).

When I began reading this, I thought it was going to be rewarding as part of the broader tapestry of Indigenous literature, but perhaps it wouldn’t be suitable for international readers: too personal, maybe. But, actually, it’s this personal side—naturally incorporating political observations—which recommends it.