American Indian Literature and Critical Studies Books
Features works from nineteen contemporary Native American writers including Jeanette C. Armstrong, Beth Brant, Richard G. Green, Thomas King, and Barry Milliken
Focusing on published works by novelists N. Scott Momaday, Leslie Marmon Silko, D'Arcy McNickle, Louise Erdrich, Gerald Vizenor, and other Native American authors, the critical essays in this collection examine translation and representation in tribal literatures.
This first book-length critical analysis of the full range of novels written between 1854 and today by American Indian authors takes as its theme the search for self-discovery and cultural recovery. In his introduction, Louis Owens places the novels in context by considering their relationships to traditional American Indian oral literature as well as their differences from mainstream Euroamerican literature. In the following chapters he looks at the novels of John Rollin Ridge, Mourning Dove, John Joseph Mathews, Dâ Arcy McNickle, N. Scott Momaday, James Welch, Leslie Marmon Silko, Louise Erdrich, Michael Dorris, and Gerald Vizenor.
When Attis McCurtain, a Vietnam veteran of mixed Choctaw and other origins, dies, his uncle commands Attis' younger brother Cole to find and bury his brother's bones, and in the process Cole and his friend Mundo Morales come to terms with their mixed heritages
Gerald Vizenor gives life to traditional tribal stories by presenting them in a new perspective: he challenges the idyllic perception of rural life, offering in its stead an unusual vision of survival in the cities--the sanctuaries for humans and animals. It is a tribal vision, a quest for liberation from forces that would deny the full realization of human possibilities. In this modern world his characters insist upon survival through an imaginative affirmation of the self. In Dead Voices Vizenor, using tales drawn from traditional tribal stories, illuminates the centuries of conflict between American Indians and Europeans, or "wordies." Bagese, a tribal woman transformed into a bear, has discovered a new urban world, and in a cycle of tales she describes this world from the perspective of animals--fleas, squirrels, mantis, crows, beavers, and finally Trickster, Vizenor's central and unifying figure. The stories reveal unpleasant aspects of the dominant culture and American Indian culture such as the fur trade, the educational system, tribal gambling, reservation life, and in each the animals, who represent crossbloods, connect with their tribal traditions, often in comic fashion. As in his other fiction, Vizenor upsets our ideas of what fiction should be. His plot is fantastic; his story line is a roller-coaster ride requiring that we accept the idea of transformation, a key element in all his work. Unlike other Indian novelists, who use the novel as a means of cultural recovery, Vizenor finds the crossblood a cause for celebration.
Incorporating elements of fiction, nonfiction, drama, and poetry, Diane Glancy’s stories are lyrical yet down to earth, often tough and gritty. Experimental, sometimes surreal in form, they nevertheless concern people who are very real-a color-blind young boy who watches planes in flight and imagines color; a shy stamp collector who speculates that he and his friend, like the stamps, could go anywhere via the U.S. Post Office; an old woman who dies in the cold landscape of her inner life but retains her vision; a cynical woman reluctant to take risks with yet another traveling man. In spite of life’s hard realities, Firesticks is filled with humor and hope and a stitching together of cultures, as the crossblood characters search for their identities.
The Anishinaabe, otherwise named the Ojibwe or Chippewa, are famous for their lyric songs and stories, particularly because of their compassionate trickster, naanabozbo, and the healing rituals still practiced today in the society of the Midewiwin. The poems and tales, interpreted and reexpressed here by the distinguished Anishinaabe author Gerald Vizenor, were first transcribed more than a century ago by pioneering ethnographer Frances Densmore and Theodore Hudson Beaulieu, a newspaper editor on the White Earth Reservation in northern Minnesota. This superb anthology, illustrated with tribal pictomyths and helpfully annotated, includes translations and a glossary of the Anishinaabe words in which the poems and stories originally were spoken.
"As my grandmother was dying, she told my mother, then nine years old, that she would always be watching her from the moon. And throughout her childhood, my mother sat on her back porch and waited for her mother's face to appear in the moon. Sometimes she saw it clear and defined, and she went to bed happy." Faces in the Moon is the story of three generations of Cherokee women, as viewed by the youngest, Lucie, a woman who has been able to use education and her imagination to escape the confines of her rootless, impoverished upbringing. When her mother's illness summons her back to Oklahoma, Lucie finds herself confronted with the legacy of a childhood she has worked hard to separate from her adult self. Her mother, Gracie, and her maternal aunt, Auney are members of the Cherokees' "lost generation," women who rejected the traditional rural ways in search of a more glamorous life as autonomous working women. With tragic irony, Gracie and Auney do not recognize that white America has exploited and rejected them, nor do they understand why. In foolish pursuit of the American dream, they have lost the respect of their own people without earning the respect of mainstream society. For the girl Lucie, being an Indian means living in a shack near Fort Sill, Oklahoma, where her mother works in a restaurant, and trying to cope with the succession of men who enter and leave her mother's house. Her understanding changes when, at a low point in Gracie's life, Lucie is sent to live with her great aunt Lizzie, a stern farm and "full-blooded" woman who reveals to Lucie the existence of alternatives to her mother's uprooted ways of living. Throughout the novel, Bell has woven together the sounds of women's voices, telling and retelling stories, explaining and speculating, comforting and seeking comfort. From this piece of her own family history, and from the voices of those women as they preserved that history and imbued their own lives with meaning through the retelling of tales, Bell has fashioned a first novel of impressive emotional power.
A wonderful collection of interrelated stories, by the chief of the Miwok tribe, creates a fully formed picture of a California community where native Americans, blacks, Mexicans, and Portugese make their way through a difficult world.
Bone Game is a murder mystery on a grand scale. Cole McCurtain, a mixed-blood Indian professor of Indian Studies at Santa Cruz, California, is haunted by dreams dating back to events of Spanish California. Images of a Spanish priest murdered in 1812, a rearing grizzly bear, and a black-and-white painted Indian who offers bones in his extended hands come at a time when dismembered pieces of a young woman are washing ashore in 1993. The dreams become increasingly urgent as the murders become more frequent, and Cole’s family and friends gather to help-including Choctaw relatives who travel west from Mississippi because "this story’s so big, Cole sees only a little bit of it."
In the dawn of November 29, 1864, a Colorado militia unit attacked a peaceful encampment of Cheyennes by Sand Creek in southeast Colorado Territory and murdered almost two hundred men, women, and children. The massacre defined the history of the West by ensuring that there could be no peace between white settlers and Plains Indians. Today, Sand Creek stands out as one of the most notorious instances of injustice in our nation's history. In The Massacre at Sand Creek, Bruce Cutler retells, in a powerful narrative, the events surrounding this atrocity. He remains faithful to historical fact, but, through a lyrical and poetic version of this tragedy, elicits a dimension of feeling that history books could never call forth. The Massacre at Sand Creek bridges the gap between literature and history. At once informative and imaginative, it offers new insight into an American tragedy.
In these short stories, Jack D. Forbes captures the remarkable breadth and variety of American Indian life. Drawing on his skills as scholar and native activist, and, above all, as artist, Forbes enlarges our sense of how American Indians experience themselves and the world around them. Though all the main characters are of Indian descent, each is a unique combination of tribal origin, social status, age, and life-style-from native elder and college professor to lesbian barmaid and Chicano adolescent. Nevertheless the U.S. government (and perhaps white society as a whole) narrows the definition of "Indian".
In the Cascade Range of northwest Washington, Tom Joseph, a young Indian who had gone south to attend college, returns for his uncle's funeral and finds himself caught up in the old man’s fight to save the wilderness from destruction. In his first novel, Louis Owens exposes the raw edge of the current American land-rights controversy and poses questions about authenticity and the common bonds that American Indians, of very different or mixed backgrounds, are in the process of discovering today.
Lurking in the caves of eastern New Mexico, Falke, a thousand-year-old vampire, chooses his next bride: Melissa Roanhorse, an Albuquerque teenager. To regain his granddaughter’s life, Michael Roanhorse, an old Navajo sheepherder wise to the power of myth, must outwit the vampire and his loyal coven. So begins A.A. Carr’s Eye Killers , a novel that combines the Eastern European legend of the vampire with the Navajo tale of the monster slayer. The songs of Michael Roanhorse’s childhood include potent chants passed down through his grandmother, who sang to him of Changing Woman and her Warrior Twins, Monster Slayer and Child of the Water. But Michael’s spiritual strength and his memory have waned with the years. Who is left to help reunite him with his family and his family with their heritage? Michael enlists Diana Logan, Melissa’s young English teacher, to wrestle Melissa from the vampire. But to conquer Falke they must also overpower his coven: Elizabeth, captured by Falke in the 1850s during her family’s journey along the Santa Fe Trail, and Hanna, once a prostitute in Old Albuquerque, who aspires to supplant Falke’s vampire reign. Michael must invoke ancient traditions to bring Melissa home. The elders undertake to teach Diana, but her Irish-American heritage has not prepared her for a fight against shape-shifting vampires who have lived-and murdered-for centuries. In Eye Killers , Carr delivers an imaginative clash of cultures-both a suspenseful thriller and a valid rendering of Navajo and Pueblo tribal life in contemporary New Mexico. His inventiveness, expressed through melodic prose and layers of fine storytelling, weaves new legends of the American Southwest.
“Mediation” is the term James Ruppert uses to describe his theory of reading Native American fiction. Focusing on the novels of six major contemporary American writers—N. Scott Momaday, James Welch, Leslie Silko, Gerald Vizenor, D’Arcy McNickle, and Louise Erdrich—Ruppert analyzes the ways these writers draw upon their bicultural heritage, guiding Native and non-Native readers to different and expanded understandings of each other’s worlds. While Native American writers may criticize white society, revealing its past and present injustices, their emphasis, Ruppert argues, is on healing, survival, and continuance. Their fiction aims to produce cross-cultural understanding rather than divisiveness. To that end they articulate the perspectives and values of competing worldviews, creating characters who manifest what Ruppert calls “multiple identities”—determined by Native and non-Native perceptions of self. These writers might incorporate Native oral storytelling techniques, adapting them to written form, or they may reconstruct Native mythologies, investing them with new meaning by applying them to contemporary situations. As novelists, they also include characteristic features of western European writing—such as the omniscient narrator or the detective story. Ruppert demonstrates how a rich blending of different traditions is producing extraordinary breadth and innovation in Native American literature.
Two half-Cherokee ranchers named Billy Keene and Will Striker find a dead man and a million dollars in the New Mexico desert, a discovery that leads them to a confrontation with their families' past and the Nightland--a place where darkness reigns. 25,000 first printing.
On Native Ground, Jim Barnes's splendid memoir in poetry and prose, takes us from his boyhood in rural southeastern Oklahoma during the Depression and World War II through his mature years as an internationally recognized poet. In the first part of the memoir, Barnes recalls places, people, and events from his childhood. He singles out forgotten landmarks that have been damaged or destroyed through the passage of time. While lamenting their loss, Barnes celebrates the capacity of art to keep in memory what is otherwise forgotten. To that end, Barnes's exquisitely crafted poems memorialize moments, scenes, or emotions from a past that is at once personal and collective. In the memoir's second part, Barnes chronicles more recent experiences in France, Italy, Switzerland, and Germany, evoking vividly the sights, sounds, and moods of the places from which he draws new inspiration for his art. Throughout, Barnes comments incisively on writing, the universality of art, and contemporary literary issues. Above all, by his own example, he shows how a writer can be firmly rooted in the land while transcending any limitations implied by ethnic or regional labels.
Story of champion dog-sled racer Abraham Okimasis and his sons Jeremiah, a pianist, and Gabriel, a dancer. As the brothers journey from northern Manitoba to residential school and then to Winnipeg, a mysterious trickster figure – the Fur Queen – plays witness to their lives. The resulting story is about sibling rivalry and sibling love, and the effects of re-education and religious conversion on one family’s existence.
In this challenging and often humorous book, Louis Owens examines issues of Indian identity and relationship to the environment as depicted in literature and film and as embodied in his own mixedblood roots in family and land. Powerful social and historical forces, he maintains, conspire to colonize literature and film by and about Native Americans into a safe "Indian Territory" that will contain and neutralize Indians. Countering this colonial "Territory" is what Owens defines as "Frontier," a dynamic, uncontainable, multi-directional space within which cultures meet and even merge. Owens offers new insights into the works of Indian writers ranging from John Rollin Ridge, Mourning Dove, and D'Arcy McNickle to N. Scott Momaday, Leslie Silko, James Welch, and Gerald Vizenor. In his analysis of Indians in film he scrutinizes distortions of Indians as victims or vanishing Americans in a series of John Wayne movies and in the politically correct but false gestures of the more recent Dances With Wolves . As Owens moves through his personal landscape in Oklahoma, Mississippi, California, and New Mexico, he questions how human beings collectively can alter their disastrous relationship with the natural world before they destroy it. He challenges all of us to articulate, through literature and other means, messages of personal and environmental as well as culturalsurvival, and to explore and share these messages by writing and reading across cultural boundaries.
Jacob Nashoba's journey has taken him from his Choctaw homeland in Mississippi to Vietnam and finally to a small reservation in the mountains of eastern Arizona. A tribal ranger, he lives among people far different from any he has known. Balanced precariously between isolation and community, he is drawn to both the fastness of a remote river canyon and the Apaches who have come to be the only family he has. Nashoba's world is peopled by, among others, a bright young man who sells vision quests to romantic tourists, a determined elder whose power makes her a force to be reckoned with on the reservation, a resident anthropologist more "native" than the natives, a corrupt tribal chairman, a former Hollywood extra who shouts at reservation women the scraps of Italian he learned from other "Indian" actors, and the ranger's estranged wife. Confusion and violence follow their encounter with a right-wing militia group training secretly on tribal land. The contrast between these Rambo types and the various Native American characters typifies the sardonic humor running throughout this novel of contemporary Indian identity.
Possessed by the demonic windigoo spirit, a group of Native American students commits various atrocities while seeking to resurrect Indian remains housed in a museum, while the "Round Dancers"--another group--challenge them on their own turf.
In Briefcase Warriors , a collection of six fast-paced, thought-provoking plays, E. Donald Two-Rivers presents an intricate and multifaceted view of contemporary American Indian urban life. Alternately sad, humorous, or discomfiting, these plays range from one-act vignettes accessible to young adults to extended portrayals of the seedier side of urban existence. Fast-talking and hard-living, the characters depicted by Two-Rivers struggle to survive the sometimes hostile environs of a society whose members think of them as a vanishing race. The plays included are: Winter Summit or the Bang-Bang Incident; Forked Tongues; Chili Corn; Coyote Sits in Judgment; Shattered Dream; and Old Indian Trick (An Old Urban Indian Story as Told by an Old Urban Indian Who May Have Lied).
In this innovative collection, Louis Owens blends autobiography, short fiction, and literary criticism to reflect on his experiences as a mixedblood Indian in America. In sophisticated prose, Owens reveals the many timbres of his voice--humor, humility,love, joy, struggle, confusion, and clarity. We join him in the fields, farms, and ranches of California. We follow his search for a lost brother and contemplate along with him old family photographs from Indian Territory and early Oklahoma. In a final section, Owens reflects on the work and theories of other writers, including Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, Gerald Vizenor, Michael Dorris, and Louise Erdrich. Volume 40 in the American Indian Literature and Critical Studies Series
Eloh’, a Cherokee word, is usually translated by anthropologists as "religion," but it also simultaneously encompasses history, culture, knowledge, law, and land. In this provocative work, Jace Weaver interlaces these seemingly disparate meanings to form a coherent approach to Native American Studies. In nineteen interrelated chapters, Weaver presents a range of experiences shared by native peoples in the Americas, from the distant past to the uncertain future. He examines Indian creative output, from oral tradition to the postmodern wordplay of Gerald Vizenor, and brings to light previously overlooked texts. Weaver also tackles up-to-the-minute issues, including environmental crises, Native American spirituality, repatriation of Indian remains and cultural artifacts, and international human rights.
In The Mask Maker, Diane Glancy tells the story of Edith Lewis, a recently divorced mixed-blood American Indian, as she travels the state of Oklahoma teaching students the art and custom of mask-making. A complex, subtle tale about flesh-and-blood human beings, this enchanting novel shows how one woman copes with alienation, loss, and questions about identity and, in the end, rediscovers meaning in living. Through Edith's daily life and efforts to teach, Glancy explores the power of the mask and mask-making. When Edith tries reaching out to a listless, alienated student, she knows enough to ask, "Where would you want to go?" He replies, "Nowhere," to which she responds with the advice, "Then make a mask to take you nowhere." For Edith, masks go beyond the limitations of words and surface gloss. "A mask is a face when you have none," she reflects. Yet some stories need to be confronted, so Edith struggles with the question of how to use masks to tell stories without using words. Glancy's Edith is no idealized sage but a very human character struggling as best she can while enduring clueless officials and teachers. When Edith explains to one teacher how the art of mask-making reaches students on a creative, intuitive level, she is chided as impractical: "We're supposed to reach them through math and English." In The Mask Maker, Glancy provides the reader with intriguing new ways of looking at identity, at language, at intangible values, and at love. This captivating novel on the human need for self-expression will delight readers of all ages.
In American Gypsy, a collection of six plays, Diane Glancy uses a mélange of voices to invoke the myths and realities of modern Native American life. Glancy intermixes poetry and prose to address themes of gender, generational relationships, acculturation, myth, and tensions between Christianity and traditional Native American belief systems. The six plays included, “The Woman Who Was a Red Deer Dressed for the Deer Dance,” “The Women Who Loved House Trailers,” “American Gypsy,” “Jump Kiss,” “Lesser Wars,” and “The Toad (Another Name for the Moon) Should Have a Bite,” run the gamut from monologues to multi-character pieces and vary in length from fifteen minutes to over an hour. Glancy concludes the collection with a thought-provoking essay on Native American playwriting.
William S. Yellow Robe, Jr., a leading Assiniboine playwright, began his career in the theater as an actor. Although his acting skills were respected, there were few roles for Native Americans. As a result, he began writing his own plays, creating roles not just for himself but for other Native actors as well. WHERE THE PAVEMENT ENDS comprises five of Yellow Robe's most poignant and powerful plays: The Star Quilter, The Body Guards, Rez Politics, The Council, and Sneaky. Based on his experiences on the Fort Peck Indian reservation, these plays combine raw reservation reality with subtle humor. By exploring various aspects of the Native American experience, including tribal autonomy, ecology, Indian/White relations, and identity, the plays offer a unique and fresh perspective on humanity.
In D. L. Birchfield’s Field of Honor , a secret underground civilization of Choctaws, deep beneath the Ouachita Mountains of southeastern Oklahoma, has evolved into a high-tech culture, supported by the labor of slaves kidnapped from the surface. Underground, long yellow rows of corn stand tall and ripe in immense, brightly lit greenhouses, and great games of stickball are played in the dark in huge stadiums with glowing balls. The twentieth century has been one long, golden summer for this underground Choctaw community, where nothing is more important than the ball games. Here Choctaw traditions are safe from the cultural genocide being waged in the world above. But crisis is about to strike the underground community, threatening its continued existence. Into this idyllic underground Choctaw world stumbles P. P. McDaniel, a half-blood Choctaw Marine Corps deserter from the Vietnam War who has the great misfortune of suffering from Stockholm Cowardice Syndrome Dysfunction. Reeling from culture shock and struggling for his own survival, McDaniel becomes entangled in political intrigue and an unlikely romance in this rich satire.
"I suppose that if I didn't have the outlook of a writer, I might get better at storytelling . . ." -Leslie Marmon Silko Laguna Pueblo author Leslie Marmon Silko was raised in a culture with a strong oral tradition. She also grew up in a household where books were cherished and reading at the dinner table was not deemed rude, but instead was encouraged. In his examination of Silko's award-winning literature, Brewster E. Fitz explores the complex dynamic between the spoken story and the written word, revealing how it carries over from Silko's upbringing and plays out in her writings. Focusing on critical essays by and interviews with Silko, Fitz argues that Silko's storytelling is informed not so much by oral Laguna culture as by the Marmon family tradition in which writing was internalized long before her birth. In Silko's writings, this conflicted desire between the oral and the written evolves into a yearning for a paradoxical written orality that would conceivably function as a perfect, nonmediated language. The critical focus on orality in Native literature has kept the equally important tradition of Native writing from being honored. By offering close readings of stories from Storyteller and Ceremony , as well as passages from Almanac of the Dead and Gardens in the Dunes, Fitz shows how Silko weaves the oral and the written, the spirit and the flesh, into a new vision of Pueblo culture. As Fitz asserts, Silko's written word, rather than obscuring or destroying her culture's oral tradition, serves instead to sharpen it. Volume 47 in the American Indian Literature and Critical Studies Series
Inventive, provocative, and ultimately affirmative, The Trickster of Liberty has become a classic in the repertoire of celebrated author Gerald Vizenor. A series of related stories, the novel follows the lives of seven mixedblood trickster siblings who began their lives on a reservation in northern Minnesota. Behaving in unpredictable ways, these siblings defy any attempt to fit them within stereotypical notions of the Indian.
“A Pipe for February is an extraordinary novel: evocative, riveting, moving. Charles Red Corn illuminates what the Osage people went through during the 1920s, when oil profits had made them fabulously wealthy and when they began to die under mysterious circumstances—systematically targeted for their money. This novel, exquisitely written and filled with revelations, will hold you in its grip and never let you go.”—David Grann, author of New York Times Best Seller Killers of the Flower Moon At the turn of the twentieth century, the Osage Indians owned Oklahoma’s most valuable oil reserves and became members of the world’s first wealthy oil population. Osage children and grandchildren continued to respect the old customs and ways, but now they also had lives of leisure: purchasing large homes, expensive cars, eating in fancy restaurants, and traveling to faraway places. In the 1920s, they also found themselves immersed in a series of murders. Charles H. Red Corn sets A Pipe for February against this turbulent, exhilarating background. Tracing the experiences of John Grayeagle, the story’s main character, Red Corn describes the Osage murders from the perspective of a traditional Osage. Other books on the notorious crimes have focused on the greed of government officials and businessmen to increase their oil wealth. Red Corn focuses on the character of the Osage people, drawing on his own experiences and insights as a member of the Osage Nation. In the new foreword, director Martin Scorsese reveals how reading A Pipe for February helped him better understand the Osage people and bring Killers of the Flower Moon to the screen.
No matter how they tell it, wax and plaster saints have nothing on flesh and blood. Just ask Sao Esperitu, a young woman with the clean eyes and the healing power. Sometimes a miracle looks like a bloody dog in the driveway, needing to be healed. Other times it’s a Native American ex-con on a Harley, needing to be saved. Bo Notices has spent his life running from responsibility until he gets religion and a saint for a wife. But Sao and Bo’s new stake in happiness doesn’t come unchallenged. Or ask any of the StandsStraight women, the daughters of Jack and Oklahoma: Carolina, Georgia, Indiana, Tennessee Jane. Sainthood may be a matter of leading a traveling evangelical church. Or it may just be a matter of living through the sufferings of motherhood and sisterhood. Of lost children recovered, of others forever lost. Victims and healers, saints and sinners. They all come together in these pages through interlinked tales of intertwined lives, voices interwoven in time and space.
Native American fiction writers have confronted Euro-American narratives about Indians and the colonial world those narratives help create. These Native authors offer stories in which Indians remake this colonial world by resisting conquest and assimilation, sustaining their cultures and communities, and surviving. In Muting White Noise , James H. Cox considers how Native authors have liberated our imaginations from colonial narratives. Cox takes his title from Sherman Alexie, for whom the white noise of a television set represents the white mass-produced culture that mutes American Indian voices. Cox foregrounds the work of Native intellectuals in his readings of the American Indian novel tradition. He thereby develops a critical perspective from which to re-see the role played by the Euro-American novel tradition in justifying and enabling colonialism. By examining novels by Native authors—especially Thomas King, Gerald Vizenor, and Alexie—Cox shows how these writers challenge and revise colonizers’ tales about Indians. He then offers “red readings” of some revered Euro-American novels, including Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick , and shows that until quite recently, even those non-Native storytellers who sympathized with Indians could imagine only their vanishing by story’s end. Muting White Noise breaks new ground in literary criticism. It stands with Native authors in their struggle to reclaim their own narrative space and tell stories that empower and nurture, rather than undermine and erase, American Indians and their communities.
A rediscovered novel portrays Cherokees in transition John Milton Oskison was a mixed-blood Cherokee known for his writing and his activism on behalf of Indian causes. The Singing Bird , never before published, is quite possibly the first historical novel written by a Cherokee. Set in the 1840s and ’50s, when conflict erupted between the Eastern and Western Cherokees after their removal to Indian Territory, The Singing Bird relates the adventures and tangled relationships of missionaries to the Cherokees, including the promiscuous, selfish Ellen, the “Singing Bird” of the title. The fictional characters mingle with such historical figures as Sequoyah and Sam Houston, embedding the novel in actual events. The Singing Bird is a vivid account of the Cherokees’ genius for survival and celebrates Native American cultural complexity and revitalization.
In 1821, Sequoyah, a Cherokee metalworker and inventor, introduced a writing system that he had been developing for more than a decade. His creation—the Cherokee syllabary—helped his people learn to read and write within five years and became a principal part of their identity. This groundbreaking study traces the creation, dissemination, and evolution of Sequoyah’s syllabary from script to print to digital forms. Breaking with conventional understanding, author Ellen Cushman shows that the syllabary was not based on alphabetic writing, as is often thought, but rather on Cherokee syllables and, more importantly, on Cherokee meanings. Employing an engaging narrative approach, Cushman relates how Sequoyah created the syllabary apart from Western alphabetic models. But he called it an alphabet because he anticipated the Western assumption that only alphabetic writing is legitimate. Calling the syllabary an alphabet, though, has led to our current misunderstanding of just what it is and of the genius behind it—until now. In her opening chapters, Cushman traces the history of Sequoyah’s invention and explains the logic of the syllabary’s structure and the graphic relationships among the characters, both of which might have made the system easy for native speakers to use. Later chapters address the syllabary’s enduring significance, showing how it allowed Cherokees to protect, enact, and codify their knowledge and to weave non-Cherokee concepts into their language and life. The result was their enhanced ability to adapt to social change on and in Cherokee terms. Cushman adeptly explains complex linguistic concepts in an accessible style, even as she displays impressive understanding of interrelated issues in Native American studies, colonial studies, cultural anthropology, linguistics, rhetoric, and literacy studies. Profound, like the invention it explores, The Cherokee Syllabary will reshape the study of Cherokee history and culture. Published through the Recovering Languages and Literacies of the Americas initiative, supported by the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation
When John Joseph Mathews (1894–1979) began his career as a writer in the 1930s, he was one of only a small number of Native American authors writing for a national audience. Today he is widely recognized as a founder and shaper of twentieth-century Native American literature. Twenty Thousand Mornings is Mathews’s intimate chronicle of his formative years. Written in 1965-67 but only recently discovered, this work captures Osage life in pre-statehood Oklahoma and recounts many remarkable events in early-twentieth-century history. Born in Pawhuska, Osage Nation, Mathews was the only surviving son of a mixed-blood Osage father and a French-American mother. Within these pages he lovingly depicts his close relationships with family members and friends. Yet always drawn to solitude and the natural world, he wanders the Osage Hills in search of tranquil swimming holes—and new adventures. Overturning misguided critical attempts to confine Mathews to either Indian or white identity, Twenty Thousand Mornings shows him as a young man of his time. He goes to dances and movies, attends the brand-new University of Oklahoma, and joins the Air Service as a flight instructor during World War I—spawning a lifelong fascination with aviation. His accounts of wartime experiences include unforgettable descriptions of his first solo flight and growing skill in night-flying. Eventually Mathews gives up piloting to become a student again, this time at Oxford University, where he begins to mature as an intellectual. In her insightful introduction and explanatory notes , Susan Kalter places Mathews’s work in the context of his life and career as a novelist, historian, naturalist, and scholar. Kalter draws on his unpublished diaries, revealing aspects of his personal life that have previously been misunderstood. In addressing the significance of this posthumous work, she posits that Twenty Thousand Mornings will challenge, defy, and perhaps redefine studies of American Indian autobiography.”
Many Anglo-Americans in the nineteenth century regarded Indian tribes as little more than illiterate bands of savages in need of “civilizing.” Few were willing to recognize that one of the major Southeastern tribes targeted for removal west of the Mississippi already had an advanced civilization with its own system of writing and rich literary tradition. In Literacy and Intellectual Life in the Cherokee Nation, 1820–1906 , James W. Parins traces the rise of bilingual literacy and intellectual life in the Cherokee Nation during the nineteenth century―a time of intense social and political turmoil for the tribe. By the 1820s, Cherokees had perfected a system for writing their language―the syllabary created by Sequoyah―and in a short time taught it to virtually all their citizens. Recognizing the need to master the language of the dominant society, the Cherokee Nation also developed a superior public school system that taught students in English. The result was a literate population, most of whom could read the Cherokee Phoenix, the tribal newspaper founded in 1828 and published in both Cherokee and English. English literacy allowed Cherokee leaders to deal with the white power structure on their own terms: Cherokees wrote legal briefs, challenged members of Congress and the executive branch, and bargained for their tribe as white interests sought to take their land and end their autonomy. In addition, many Cherokee poets, fiction writers, essayists, and journalists published extensively after 1850, paving the way for the rich literary tradition that the nation preserves and fosters today. Literary and Intellectual Life in the Cherokee Nation, 1820–1906 takes a fascinating look at how literacy served to unite Cherokees during a critical moment in their national history, and advances our understanding of how literacy has functioned as a tool of sovereignty among Native peoples, both historically and today.
The outpouring of Native American literature that followed the publication of N. Scott Momaday’s Pulitzer Prize–winning House Made of Dawn in 1968 continues unabated. Fiction and poetry, autobiography and discursive writing from such writers as James Welch, Gerald Vizenor, and Leslie Marmon Silko constitute what critic Kenneth Lincoln in 1983 termed the Native American Renaissance. This collection of essays takes the measure of that efflorescence. The contributors scrutinize writers from Momaday to Sherman Alexie, analyzing works by Native women, First Nations Canadian writers, postmodernists, and such theorists as Robert Warrior, Jace Weaver, and Craig Womack. Weaver’s own examination of the development of Native literary criticism since 1968 focuses on Native American literary nationalism. Alan R. Velie turns to the achievement of Momaday to examine the ways Native novelists have influenced one another. Post-renaissance and postmodern writers are discussed in company with newer writers such as Gordon Henry, Jr., and D. L. Birchfield. Critical essays discuss the poetry of Simon Ortiz, Kimberly Blaeser, Diane Glancy, Luci Tapahonso, and Ray A. Young Bear, as well as the life writings of Janet Campbell Hale, Carter Revard, and Jim Barnes. An essay on Native drama examines the work of Hanay Geiogamah, the Native American Theater Ensemble, and Spider Woman Theatre. In the volume’s concluding essay, Kenneth Lincoln reflects on the history of the Native American Renaissance up to and beyond his seminal work, and discusses Native literature’s legacy and future. The essays collected here underscore the vitality of Native American literature and the need for debate on theory and ideology.
Adam Fortunate Eagle has been called many things: social activist, serious joke medicine, contrary warrior, national treasure, enemy of the state, living history. Characterizing his style as “Fortunate Eagle meets Mark Twain, Indian style,” the author relates the traditions, joys, and frustrations of his own Native American experience in tones ranging from “gut-busting laughter to pissed-off anger.” Leading the reader through time and space, Fortunate Eagle uses his own history—as a child in an Ojibwe community and later as a civil rights leader who, among other achievements, helped organize the takeovers of Alcatraz in 1964 and 1969—to recount the experience of modern Native peoples. The tradition of oral storytelling shines through his language and in his thoughtful and humorous juxtapositions. In the story for which the book is named, Fortunate Eagle journeys to Italy to “discover” the land and claim it in protest of Columbus Day. Wearing a traditional beaded buckskin outfit, complete with scalps hanging from his belt, he meets with the pope. Afterward, suffering from what he calls “the Pope’s Revenge,” he is forced to spend two days in or near a bathroom. Beginning with a foreword “written” by Sitting Bull, and traveling from moose encounters in Minnesota to the Spanish Steps in Rome, this book reminds readers of the wisdom of elders, the cross-cultural confusion of Native-white encounters, and some of the most difficult issues faced by contemporary Native peoples. Falling somewhere between fact and fiction, the tales in Scalping Columbus and Other Stories combine outrageous comedy with clever social commentary, managing both to entertain and to enlighten.
According to a dichotomy commonly found in studies of American Indians, some noble Native people defiantly defend their pristine indigenous traditions in honor of their ancestors, while others in weakness or greed surrender their culture and identities to white American economies and institutions. This traditionalist-versus-assimilationist divide is, Joshua B. Nelson argues, a false one. To make his case that American Indians rarely if ever conform to such simplistic identifications, Nelson considers the literature and culture of many Cherokee people. Exploring a range of linked cultural practices and beliefs through the works of Cherokee thinkers and writers from the nineteenth century to today, Nelson finds ample evidence that tradition can survive through times of radical change: Cherokees do their cultural work both in progressively traditional and traditionally progressive ways. Studying individuals previously deemed either “traditional” or “assimilationist,” Nelson presents a more nuanced interpretation. Among the works he examines are the political rhetoric of Elias Boudinot, a forefather of American Indian literature, and of John Ross, the principal chief during the Removal years; the understudied memoirs of Catharine Brown, a nineteenth-century Cherokee convert to Christianity; and the novel Kholvn , by contemporary traditionalist Sequoyah Guess, a writer of peculiarly Cherokee science fiction. Across several genres—including autobiography, fiction, speeches, laws, and letters— Progressive Traditions identifies an “indigenous anarchism,” a pluralist, community-centered political philosophy that looks to practices that preceded and surpass the nation-state as ways of helping Cherokee people prosper. This critique of the common call for expansion of tribal nations’ sovereignty over their citizens represents a profound shift in American Indian critical theory and challenges contemporary indigenous people to rethink power among nations, communities, and individuals.
Tribal histories suggest that Indigenous peoples from many different nations continually allied themselves for purposes of fortitude, mental and physical health, and creative affiliations. Such alliance building, Molly McGlennen tells us, continues in the poetry of Indigenous women, who use the genre to transcend national and colonial boundaries and to fashion global dialogues across a spectrum of experiences and ideas. One of the first books to focus exclusively on Indigenous women’s poetry, Creative Alliances fills a critical gap in the study of Native American literature. McGlennen, herself an Indigenous poet-critic, traces the meanings of gender and genre as they resonate beyond nationalist paradigms to forge transnational forms of both resistance and alliance among Indigenous women in the twenty-first century. McGlennen considers celebrated Native poets such as Kimberly Blaeser, Ester Belin, Diane Glancy, and Luci Tapahonso, but she also takes up lesser-known poets who circulate their work through social media, spoken-word events, and other “nonliterary” forums. Through this work McGlennen reveals how poetry becomes a tool for navigating through the dislocations of urban life, disenrollment, diaspora, migration, and queer identities. McGlennen’s Native American Studies approach is inherently interdisciplinary. Combining creative and critical language, she demonstrates the way in which women use poetry not only to preserve and transfer Indigenous knowledge but also to speak to one another across colonial and tribal divisions. In the literary spaces of anthologies and collections and across social media and spoken-word events, Indigenous women poets are mapping cooperative alliances. In doing so, they are actively determining their relationship to their nations and to other Indigenous peoples in uncompromised and uncompromising ways.
The nine short stories in this collection by distinguished Osage author John Joseph Mathews are sure to be recognized as classics of twentieth-century nature writing and the wildlife conservation movement. The characters in Old Three Toes and Other Tales of Survival and Extinction are coyotes, mountain lions, deer, owls, sandhill cranes, prairie chickens—and human beings, who sometimes kill their prey but are often outsmarted by the largest and smallest animals. Mathews shows us the world through the animals’ eyes and ears and noses. His convincing portrayals of their intelligence recall the fiction of Jack London and Ernest Thompson Seton. Like these literary ancestors, Mathews originally intended his nature stories for boys, but the stories transcend boundaries of age, gender, and geography. Mathews writes not just to inspire his readers with nature’s beauty but also to demonstrate the interrelatedness of humans, animals, and the landscapes in which they interact. Timely and relevant to discussions of ecology and the environment, his stories will reach a wide audience today, more than fifty years after they were written. These stories show Mathews’s ability to write precise descriptions—of a coyote catching a field mouse, a crane eating a frog, a mountain lion playing. A hunter himself, Mathews understood both the animals’ readiness to fight and man’s instinct to survive. And he let readers share the dignity of the animal characters and their refusal to acquiesce to their own extinction, particularly in the face of human ignorance and carelessness. Susan Kalter’s afterword provides a poignant portrait of Mathews and traces the inspirations for the short stories in this collection. Thoughtfully annotated, these stories are the only published examples of Mathews’s hitherto unknown short fiction and will add to his stature as an important American Indian writer.
Adopted into the Cherokee tribe as a teenager, William Holland Thomas (1805–1893), known to the Cherokees as Wil Usdi (Little Will), went on to have a distinguished career as lawyer, politician, and soldier. He spent the last decades of his life in a mental hospital, where the pioneering ethnographer James Mooney interviewed him extensively about Cherokee lifeways. The true story of Wil Usdi’s life forms the basis for this historical novella, the final published work of fiction by the late award-winning Cherokee author Robert J. Conley. Conley tells Wil’s story through the recollection of the old man’s memories. Wil learns the Cherokee language while working at a trading post. The chief Yonaguska adopts the fatherless Wil, seeing to it that the boy dresses like a Cherokee and, for all practical purposes, becomes one. Later, representing the Eastern Band of the Cherokees in their negotiations with the federal government, Wil helps them remain in their ancestral lands in North Carolina when most other Cherokees are sent off on the Trail of Tears to the Indian Territory. Thus, Wil becomes popularly known as the white chief of the tribe. He continues making money as a merchant and in 1848 is elected to the North Carolina state senate, where he assists in the creation of a railroad system to serve the copper mines in neighboring Tennessee. During the Civil War, he leads a Cherokee battalion in the Confederate Army and tries to persuade his cousin Jefferson Davis to expand the battalion of fierce warriors into a regiment. His achievements make his admission into an insane asylum all the more tragic. The Wil Usdi of Conley’s story is in increasingly bad health, mistreated in a mental institution that to twenty-first-century readers is little more than a jail. He dreams of women and warfare and boyhood games of stickball. Yet even in his demented state, Wil is proud of his accomplishments and never loses his conviction that Indians are “more human than whites.” Weaving together the disconnected stories of Wil Usdi’s life, Conley’s blend of thorough research and imaginative prose gives readers a deep sense of post-removal Cherokee history.
“Sovereignty” is perhaps the most ubiquitous term in American Indian writing today—but its meaning and function are anything but universally understood. This is as it should be, David J. Carlson suggests, for a concept frequently at the center of various—and often competing—claims to authority. In Imagining Sovereignty , Carlson explores sovereignty as a discursive middle ground between tribal communities and the United States as a settler-colonial power. His work reveals the complementary ways in which legal and literary texts have generated politically significant representations of the world, which in turn have produced particular effects on readers and advanced the cause of tribal self-determination. Drawing on western legal historical sources and American Indian texts, Carlson traces a dual genealogy of sovereignty. Imagining Sovereignty identifies the concept as a marker, one that allows both the colonizing power of the United States and the resisting powers of various American Indian nations to organize themselves and their various claims to authority. In the process, sovereignty also functions as a point of exchange where these claims compete with and complicate one another. To this end, Carlson analyzes how several contemporary American Indian writers and critics have sought to fuse literary practices and legal structures into fully formed discourses of self-determination. After charting the development of the concept of sovereignty in natural law and its permutations in federal Indian policy, Carlson maps out the nature and function of sovereignty discourses in the work of contemporary Native scholars such as Russel Barsh, Gerald Taiaiake Alfred, D’Arcy McNickle, and Vine Deloria, and in the work of more expressly literary American Indian writers such as Craig Womack, Elizabeth Cook-Lynn, Gerald Vizenor, and Francisco Patencio. Often read in opposition, the writings of these indigenous authors emerge in Imagining Sovereignty as a coherent literary and political tradition—one whose varied discourse of sovereignty aptly reflects American Indian people’s diverse political contexts.
Jacob Neptune, a wise-cracking, two-fisted Penacook private investigator with a checkered past, lives in upstate New York—four hundred miles from his tribal community on Abenaki Island. Then one night the phone rings. “We . . . got . . . trouble,” Neptune’s cousin Dennis says from the other end. And trouble is where it all starts in this brilliant, often hilarious novel by acclaimed Abenaki storyteller Joseph Bruchac. Attacked by bikers before he can even board his plane, Neptune—“Podjo” to his friends—quickly begins to realize just how much trouble surrounds his people’s ancestral home. Guided by his sense of duty to his homeland, he agrees to help protect Dennis and other Penacooks as they stage a takeover of a state campground on land that should have reverted to their tribe. But encroaching developers, government operators, and even fellow Penacooks eager to build a casino each pose a threat to the Abenaki lands—and all have reasons to want Neptune out of the picture. Podjo greets each challenge with self-deprecating humor—but it’s difficult to shake his increasingly disturbing dreams, and an unsettled feeling when his return leads to a reunion with a long-ago love interest. As he and Dennis contend with hired guns, police, and security, a far greater threat appears: someone, or some thing , is brutally killing people in the woods. It will take all of Neptune’s skills as a martial artist and the wisdom gained from tribal elders to battle the forces that threaten the sacred land—and his and his people’s lives. Bruchac ratchets the tension from the first page to the last in this detective novel that pairs comedy and action with serious consideration of corporate greed, environmental destruction, cultural erosion, and other modern-day issues pressing Native peoples.
Red Bird, Red Power tells the story of one of the most influential—and controversial—American Indian activists of the twentieth century. Zitkala-Ša (1876–1938), also known as Gertrude Simmons Bonnin, was a highly gifted writer, editor, and musician who dedicated her life to achieving justice for Native peoples. Here, Tadeusz Lewandowski offers the first full-scale biography of the woman whose passionate commitment to improving the lives of her people propelled her to the forefront of Progressive-era reform movements. Lewandowski draws on a vast array of sources, including previously unpublished letters and diaries, to recount Zitkala-Ša’s unique life journey. Her story begins on the Dakota plains, where she was born to a Yankton Sioux mother and a white father. Zitkala-Ša, whose name translates as “Red Bird” in English, left home at age eight to attend a Quaker boarding school, eventually working as a teacher at Carlisle Indian Industrial School. By her early twenties, she was the toast of East Coast literary society. Her short stories for the Atlantic Monthly (1900) are, to this day, the focus of scholarly analysis and debate. In collaboration with William F. Hanson, she wrote the libretto and songs for the innovative Sun Dance Opera (1913). And yet, as Lewandowski demonstrates, Zitkala-Ša’s successes could not fill the void of her lost cultural heritage, nor dampen her fury toward the Euro-American establishment that had robbed her people of their land. In 1926, she founded the National Council of American Indians with the aim of redressing American Indian grievances. Zitkala-Ša’s complex identity has made her an intriguing—if elusive—subject for scholars. In Lewandowski’s sensitive interpretation, she emerges as a multifaceted human being whose work entailed constant negotiation. In the end, Lewandowski argues, Zitkala-Ša’s achievements distinguish her as a forerunner of the Red Power movement and an important agent of change.
John Joseph Mathews (1894–1979) is one of Oklahoma’s most revered twentieth-century authors. An Osage Indian, he was also one of the first Indigenous authors to gain national renown. Yet fame did not come easily to Mathews, and his personality was full of contradictions. In this captivating biography, Michael Snyder provides the first book-length account of this fascinating figure. Known as “Jo” to all his friends, Mathews had a multifaceted identity. A novelist, naturalist, biographer, historian, and tribal preservationist, he was a true “man of letters.” Snyder draws on a wealth of sources, many of them previously untapped, to narrate Mathews’s story. Much of the writer’s family life—especially his two marriages and his relationships with his two children and two stepchildren—is explored here for the first time. Born in the town of Pawhuska in Indian Territory, Mathews attended the University of Oklahoma before venturing abroad and earning a second degree from Oxford. He served as a flight instructor during World War I, traveled across Europe and northern Africa, and bought and sold land in California. A proud Osage who devoted himself to preserving Osage culture, Mathews also served as tribal councilman and cultural historian for the Osage Nation. Like many gifted artists, Mathews was not without flaws. And perhaps in the eyes of some critics, he occupies a nebulous space in literary history. Through insightful analysis of his major works, especially his semiautobiographical novel Sundown and his meditative Talking to the Moon , Snyder revises this impression. The story he tells, of one remarkable individual, is also the story of the Osage Nation, the state of Oklahoma, and Native America in the twentieth century.
For thousands of years, American Indian cultures have recorded their truths in the narratives and metaphors of oral tradition. Stories, languages, and artifacts, such as glyphs and drawings, all carry Indigenous knowledge, directly contributing to American Indian rhetorical structures that have proven resistant—and sometimes antithetical—to Western academic discourse. It is this tradition that Kimberly G. Wieser seeks to restore in Back to the Blanket , as she explores the rich possibilities that Native notions of relatedness offer for understanding American Indian knowledge, arguments, and perspectives. Back to the Blanket analyzes a wide array of American Indian rhetorical traditions, then applies them in close readings of writings, speeches, and other forms of communication by historical and present-day figures. Wieser turns this pathbreaking approach to modes of thinking found in the oratory of eighteenth-century Mohegan and Presbyterian cleric Samson Occom, visual communication in Laguna Pueblo author Leslie Marmon Silko’s Almanac of the Dead , patterns of honesty and manipulation in the speeches of former president George W. Bush, and rhetorics and relationships in the communication of Indigenous leaders such as Ada-gal’kala, Tsi’yugûnsi’ni, and Inoli. Exploring the multimodal rhetorics—oral, written, material, visual, embodied, kinesthetic—that create meaning in historical discourse, Wieser argues for the rediscovery and practice of traditional Native modes of communication—a modern-day “going back to the blanket,” or returning to Native practices. Her work shows how these Indigenous insights might be applied in models of education for Native American students, in Native American communities more broadly, and in transcultural communication, negotiation, debate, and decision making.
“So what does it mean to be a Cherokee?” asks Cherokee author Robert J. Conley at the start of this delightful collection of his writings. Throughout his prolific career, Conley used his art to explore Cherokee identity and experience. With his passing in 2014, Native American literature—and American literature in general—lost a major voice. Fortunately, this posthumous publication, edited by the author’s wife, Evelyn L. Conley , offers readers the opportunity to appreciate anew the blend of humor, candor, and creativity that makes his work so exceptional. Best known as a novelist, especially for his beloved Real People series, Conley was also a masterful writer of short stories, essays, plays, and speeches. The breadth of his talents is on full display in this wide-ranging collection, which begins with his very last public address, delivered in North Carolina in 2013. Following that speech, the reader is treated to what may be Conley’s most famous short story, “Plastic Indian,” the hilarious tale of three Cherokee youths who try to take down a giant plastic Indian located along Highway 51 between Tahlequah and Tulsa. Like many of Conley’s works, “Plastic Indian” is set in contemporary times, but as we discover through the stories that follow, the author drew inspiration from traditional Cherokee folktales and oral storytelling. His delight in the spoken word is evident in the single play featured in this volume, based on the writings of ethnographer James Mooney and originally performed for radio. Conley is also celebrated for his accurate depictions of the Old West (it is no accident that he was the first American Indian president of the distinguished Western Writers of America association), so the collection would not be complete without two of his cowboy stories, namely “The Execution” and “Nate’s Revenge.” The volume concludes with four of the author’s speeches. Laced with the author’s typical dry humor, these personal testimonies serve as a moving coda to the author’s extensive and illustrious career.
With a bang—or rather, a barrage—Jacob Neptune finds his remote cabin in the Adirondacks besieged by a gun-toting gang of murderous bikers. With the help of his supersized sidekick Dennis, the hard-headed, wise-cracking Abenaki private detective traces the source of his troubles to a former adversary who is now running an Indian casino. In short order, the friends are drawn into a dangerous mystery that will call upon all of Jake’s skills as a martial arts expert, former special forces soldier, and—in the Abenaki tradition—a metoulin , one who can see beneath the surface of things through dreams and visions. Their investigation takes them to the Pacific Northwest, dead center in a vicious game involving tribal intrigue, a crooked casino, Chinese billions, a captive killer whale—and a series of murders and disappearances that may be linked to the monster known by Jake’s people as Padoskoks, the giant underwater serpent. Like Chenoo , the first in the Jacob Neptune series, Padoskoks has an explosive start and keeps gathering speed, giving readers a glimpse of the ancient wisdom and Native customs swirling just under the surface as the action-packed plot barrels toward its natural, if startling, conclusion.