Earlier in June, I was saying that I had read another seven books towards this challenge, and here they are. By Ojibwe/Cree, Dene/Métis, Swampy Cree-Beaver Clan of the Opaskwayak Cree Nation, Secwépemc, Haisla/Heiltsuk, Couchiching First Nation/Ojibwe] authors. Nope, I’m not deliberately selecting different nations; that’s happening by-the-by.

For those international readers, who couldn’t/can’t view the challenge, I’ve included a list (though not as much fun as a BINGO grid) via a button to the right. If you want to join, I will send you the PDF.

A 2SLGBTQ+ Coming-of-age Story:
A Two-Spirit Journey by Ma-Nee Chacaby, with Mary Louisa Plummer (2016) [Ojibwe/Cree]

The plain and simple language in A Two-Spirit Journey (2016) by Ma-Nee Chacaby with Mary Louisa Plummer camouflages the complexity and confidence that underscore her narrative. I’m thinking, for instance, of the passage in her chapter about school in her teen years, and her relationship with her grandmother. It was her grandmother who first told her—when she was maybe four or five—that she has niizhin ojijaak living inside her. Her kokum said that two-spirit people were historically valued and respected, but no longer understood in the same way: she would need to learn how to live with her two spirits. Her kokum does not try to solve her problems for her; only listens—leaving the hard work (and reward) of problem-solving with her. “Then, even if she approved of my strategy, she asked me to go away and think about it some more, and only return when I had come up with another answer.” This clarity and contemplation (necessary for everyone to develop personhood, essential for anyone judged “unconventional”), the sense that this storyteller has reflected on events in her life and the world around her both at length and from every possible direction, makes for a powerful and resonant memoir. (University of Manitoba Press)

A Book of Canadian Poetry:
Whitemud Walking by Matthew James Weigel (2022) [Dene/Métis]

This gave off such strong a Jordan Abel vibe—particularly Abel’s the place of scraps—that, even though I promised myself I would only LOOK at the library that day, I had to snap up this collection. (Turns out that Jordan Abel edited this volume under the auspices of Coach House Books.) It also reverberates with my favourite early Dionne Brand collections, for the maps and images inside. Archival photographs, portions of documents about treaty “agreements”, statistics, and reproduced signatures: there is a wealth of visual material here to get you thinking. I’m never sure that I have what it takes to truly appreciate poetry collections, but with this one, MJW joins the tiny group of poets in my MustReadEverything list. Mostly it’s hard to share in text what I loved here, but this:

Dreamt I was a library again,
it is an all-or-nothing calling.
I have language for it,
I have bones
but otherwise am formless before the 7am alarm
held loose on birdsong, briefly,
between the low notes on their way to the water.

A Book about a Global Issue:
Valley of the Birdtail by Andrew Stobo Sniderman and Douglas Sanderson (Amo Binashii) (2022) [DS/AB is Swampy Cree, Beaver Clan, of the Opaskwayak Cree Nation]

Written by an Indigenous writer and a white writer together, a book like this moves us all farther along the road of reconciliation. (HarperCollins) They have a remarkably conversational tone (without sacrificing substance—there’s a tonne of notes in the back), and include several photographs inside the narrative. The authors not only summarize complex historical events (beginning in the second part of the book’s four parts), but first they make sure you’re engaged by taking you into the lives of ordinary people who live on the Waywayseecappo Reserve (with the town of Rossburn, originally settled by Ukrainian immigrants, on the other side of the river). It reminded me a little of Nigaan Sinclair’s Winipêk: Visions of Canada from an Indigenous Centre, which I also read much more quickly than expected. If you have read some fiction by Indigenous writers, and want to start reading non-fiction about Indigenous issues in present-day Canada to broaden your understanding, this would be an excellent place to start.

A Book with Forced Proximity:
Orange Shirt Day by Phyllis Webstad (Revised, 2023) [Secwépemc]

When she was six, Phyllis Webstad was taken from her Secwépemc family and forced to attend St. Joseph’s Mission Residential School in what’s now called British Columbia. She chose a bright orange shirt to wear to school, but it was taken from her as part of the protocol in the dormitory-style institutions. “I grew up not knowing my own history and wondering why I always felt like I was crazy,” she writes in Beyond the Orange Shirt Story (2021): “I knew something was wrong but I didn’t know what it was called and I didn’t know what to do about it.” In one hundred pages, she shares her own experience and, with the help of two aunts (who also share their experiences), her great-grandmother’s and grandmother’s and mother’s experiences too. These appear along with her son’s and two grandsons’ experiences. Their family photographs and memories mesh to invite a deeper understanding of how the Canadian government’s policies have lastingly impacted Indigenous people across time. (In the back, one teacher’s experience is included, along with a series of historical photographs of the Mission School.)

Check out: orangeshirtday.org

A Book about a Trip:
Monkey Beach by Eden Robinson (2000) [Haisla/Heiltsuk]

More than twenty years had passed since I first read Monkey Beach, and Bill’s reading of it earlier this year inspired my reread. What I most clearly remembered from my first reading was the sense of it being unputdownable; the book opens after Jimmy disappears on a fishing trip, and Lisamarie’s parents leave almost straight away to find more information: Lisamarie is a teenager on her own, and readers share her anxiety and fear about her brother’s disappearance. Awaiting news, she revisits the past, so we get to know more about their relationship, about the Indigenous traditions they share (including some gently instructive passages about soapberries and oolican grease, which are more familiar now that so many other books by Indigenous writers are available), and their shared childhood. These parts felt fresh to me, the mystery surrounding Jimmy’s fate familiar; but, ironically, I did not remember how the story ended so, in the end, that felt fresh too.

“On typical summer mornings, I would wake up late. Jimmy would already be watching cartoons. I’d change into my bathing suit and make myself some toast. Jimmy’s mouth would be smeared red with Jell-O powder, his favourite, I’d nudge him and he’d hand the Jell-O box over. I’d dip my toast in it, then hand it back.

A Book about Social Media:
Little Moons by Jen Storm (2024) [Couchiching First Nation/Ojibwe]

There are only a few pages of normal family life before Chelsea—sister, daughter, granddaughter—disappears, in this graphic memoir. Enough time for readers to feel comfortable with their day-to-day, the small tensions that exist when children of different ages inhabit a small space, when the needs of adults don’t always align with their children’s needs. There’s a bittersweet segment when 13-year-old Reanna attends a powwow, wearing the dress her sister wore the previous year: the dancing is beautiful, but the absence is nearly overwhelming. (Because there are a couple of pages with illustrated screenshots of attempts to locate Chelsea, I thought it could fit this prompt.) The conversations between various family members, as stress ebbs and flows, as dynamics shift—feel very believable and moving. Members of different generations have different approaches, and although it is a profoundly sad situation, certain cultural elements—combined with this strong sense of family and community—invite a different perspective which offers some small comfort. It opens with a content warning and a 24/7 telephone number for anyone struggling with issues related to MMIWG2S, Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Girls and Two-Spirited People. From Highwater Press.

An Instructional Book:
What Was Said to Me by Ruby Peter (2021) [Cowichan]

A central aspect of Ruby Peter’s story is her sense of having been instructed about her culture from a young age and how, in turn, she has borne that responsibility herself. As an elder, Sti’tum’atul’wut is renowned for her work with language preservation, but that’s just one element here. The aspects of her story that I most enjoyed were about how she came to be married and how she mothered, how her responsibilities—to both family and community—evolved over time. Some elements of her life experience repeat in the narrative, reminding readers that she shared her memories in a series of interviews, recalling the key components as they connected with other time periods in her life. Because I read a few chapters each week, taking more than a month to finish, this indeed made it feel more like a story being told to me—another layer to the title. (Royal Museum of BC Paperback only, no epub)

“Thinking back on what was being said to me over and over, then repeating it to my own children later on, I guess it just sort of made me realize that I was just so protected by my own extended family. I was being filled up with all these teachings, and I thought that was the same all over, that all Natives had the same teachings. But that is not so. There is a different teaching at different Longhouses.”

This post also coincides with Rebecca’s / BookishBeck’s monthly #LoveYourLibrary event…and every one of these books was read from the library’s collection. And while I was putting them on hold and arranging for them to be sent to my local branch, I added another dozen books by other Indigenous writers to my “saved” shelves.

Meanwhile, a backlog of new fiction was processed in the main branch in such a flurry that at least six new books arrived for me each week in June, because I’d placed holds on about fifty books over several months. There’s no warning: new books show as On Order, right ‘til they’re shipped to a branch.

After the third bulky pickup, Mr BIP wondered aloud if there wasn’t something I could do. But I thought surely there couldn’t be any more, or MANY more. When I noticed there were another seven coming the next week, I took the drastic action of suspending all my holds. In theory, there could have been another dozen or so. When this post goes live, I’ll have just picked up the last bunch.

A lot of people suspend their holds during the summer, while they are taking holidays/vacations, so even though these are new books, I will be able to renew some of even-the-most-popular books. Still, it’s unlikely—sigh to say—that I’ll be able to read all of them before their duedates. Particularly as I can’t be sensible about it, so I’ll still want to read other books as well. Ahem.

Are your library stacks tidier than mine? Have you already read books this year which would align with any of the challenge categories?