Code Talker by Joseph Bruchac

Code Talker by Joseph Bruchac is a YA novel about a Navajo code talker in #WWII but it begins with the main character's childhood. Sent away to boarding school, Ned Begay was met with harsh authorities who would punish the children severely if they spoke Navajo instead of English.

Nevertheless, the students found ways to keep their language alive and it became a useful skill, speaking Navajo, when the Marines needed Navajo speakers to create and use a code as they invaded islands in the Pacific. 

The book goes beyond the war years as Ned is narrating his story to his grandchildren. So, you also find out that Navajos who served were cut out of the GI Bill (unless, apparently, they bought homes that were not on Native land) and were not given military honors for their bravery. It also gives you a little insight on Navajo beliefs and traditions. 

Highly recommended - Excellent writing, packed with carefully researched facts about military movements and some real-life characters who were important to the story. I liked the fact that not everything was fictionalized and the book went beyond the war years both past and present, so that you got a good feeling for what it was like to be a Navajo, having your traditions and language suppressed, and then serving with honor (some of the code talkers sacrificing their lives) only to return to the a hostile environment in which one was considered lesser at home. 

©2021 Nancy Horner. All rights reserved. If you are reading this post at a site other than Bookfoolery or its RSS feed, you are reading a stolen feed. Email bookfoolery@gmail.com for written permission to reproduce text or photos.

Six Weeks in the Sioux Tepees: A Narrative of Indian Captivity by Sarah F. Wakefield

Six Weeks in the Sioux Tepees by Sarah F. Wakefield is the memoir of a woman who was held captive during the Dakota War of 1862, a war between Native Americans and the whites occupying their former lands. Author Sarah Wakefield describes how she was captured and imprisoned after describing the lead-up to the war. She talks about why she chose to wear native clothing during her captivity and behaved the way she did (acting as if the natives were her friends, working with them, speaking only positively about them), and defending the native man who kept her safe.

Wakefield wrote her narrative primarily to explain herself because she was criticized and ostracized for defending Chaska, the man who protected her and was arrested because he stayed behind when she and her children returned at the end of the war (he stayed with them to make sure they were safely delivered home). If only for the fact that Sarah Wakefield was rare in defending her captors, the narrative is interesting. She had a unique perspective, having lived near the natives for a time and already knowing their language. She was also well aware of what the natives had given up -- land and their ability to subsist on it -- and the fact that the government was very late delivering the promised food and money they were to receive in return for their land. She knew they were starving and angry; the uprising was not entirely unexpected.

Recommended - While the writing is a bit awkward, the book contains a lengthy introduction that's nicely explanatory and copious notes that also help clarify much of what the author talks about. I saved the introduction for last and I'm glad I read it that way because I preferred to read the author's explanation of events first, more detailed description later, although there's really only one possible spoiler if you don't want to know how things ended up in advance of reading the author's description. It's a sad story. I'd never read anything at all about the Dakota War, nor had I even heard of it, but I found it admirable that the author was willing to defend her captors in the face of the "Let's kill all the natives" frenzy that happened after the war ended.


©2018 Nancy Horner. All rights reserved. If you are reading this post at a site other than Bookfoolery or its RSS feed, you are reading a stolen feed. Email bookfoolery@gmail.com for written permission to reproduce text or photos.

2 by Native Americans: The Lakota Way by Joseph M. Marshall III and Indian Boyhood by Charles Eastman

I just finished reading The Lakota Way by Joseph M. Marshall III and, I never got around to writing about Indian Boyhood by Charles Eastman (read in November of 2014). So, it's time for another Two for the Price of One review. I purchased The Lakota Way when Borders was going out of business [muffled sob] and bought my copy of Indian Boyhood from a secondhand shop in New Jersey, although you can download it for free in e-book form.


Humility can provide clarity where arrogance makes a cloud. -- p. 12

The Lakota Way: Stories and Lessons for Living (also subtitled Native American Wisdom on Ethics and Character) by Joseph M. Marshall III is divided into chapters headed with a particular characteristic revered by the Lakota, also known as Lakota Sioux, a Native American tribe that were nomadic hunter-gatherers in the Northern Plains and Dakotas for hundreds, perhaps thousands of years. Each characteristic is illustrated by stories passed down in the oral tradition, as well as personal tales from the author's lifetime.

The chapters: Humility, Perseverance, Respect, Honor, Love, Sacrifice, Truth, Compassion, Bravery, Fortitude, Generosity and Wisdom.

There is also an afterward that describes the history of the Lakota from their perspective, which unsurprisingly does not entirely agree with history books.

I love reading Native American tales and appreciated the way the author combined the moral code for his people with the stories that are used to illustrate right from wrong. Marshall's writing transports the reader to another time and place marvelously, whether it's the dawn of time, the 17th century or the 1950s. While I think anyone can benefit from the kind of wisdom in The Lakota Way, the afterword is particularly interesting and would be great for teaching purposes. Most history books have been written by European Americans, after all. It makes sense to teach the alternative viewpoint, as well, when discussing American history.

Highly recommended - A lovely combination of basics in morality, stories that illustrate the importance of strong character, and history. There's a bit of explanation about the spirituality of Native American tradition, as well. Although Marshall can be a little emphatic about the wrongs perpetrated upon his people, I think he has good reason for feeling that way and didn't find the book at all preachy.

Indian Boyhood by Charles A. Eastman (who was also known by his Indian name, Ohiyesa) is a book that was published in 1902. As a child of the 19th century, Eastman straddled two remarkably different time periods for Native Americans. He spent his childhood in the traditional way as a Santee Dakota Sioux, learning to hunt and observing his people living off the land and practicing the old ways. The bulk of his adulthood took place in the white man's world.

It's been quite a while since I read Indian Boyhood so details are fading but I do recall that the book is mostly about the beauty of the land, the joy of growing up in the outdoors and the sensation of freedom that he felt as a child. Occasionally, he compared his life to that of the European settlers and talked about why white children who were captured and became part of an Indian family often escaped to return to Indian life after being rescued by their families.

I can't recall how old Eastman was when his father disappeared but at some point his father was captured in battle and presumed dead. But, eventually, he returned and by then he had long since been converted to Christianity. By that point, Eastman was a grown man and he gave in to his father's influence, joining the world of the white man.

Because Eastman grew up with the traditions of his people but eventually became an Ivy League educated physician living in the modern European sense, he offers an interesting perspective from that of contemporary writers looking backward as he was able to compare and contrast the two cultures in which he participated, although the book is focused on his youth. He also learned about herbal medicine from his grandmother, so you could say Eastman had not one but two types of medical training.

Highly recommended - I've never read anything quite like Indian Boyhood. Most of what I've read regarding Native American culture has been either modern historical viewpoints or, in the case of older material, from the side of settlers. It was utterly fascinating reading about childhood as a Native American by someone who grew up traditionally and then transitioned into a completely different style of living as an adult.

©2015 Nancy Horner. All rights reserved. If you are reading this post at a site other than Bookfoolery  or its RSS feed, you are reading a stolen feed. Email bookfoolery@gmail.com for written permission to reproduce text or photos.

Fiona Friday and 2 mini reviews: When the Cypress Whispers by Y. M. Corporon & Pigs in Heaven by B. Kingsolver

This is what happens when you try to cover a box to keep one cat from gnawing on it and the other cat just happens to be a burrower:

Just seconds after I snapped this photo, Isabel scrambled out backwards and plopped down onto the floor looking ruffled and a little bit insane. She had me in stitches.

On to books!

When the Cypress Whispers was released in April and I read the ARC (which I received from HarperCollins) before the release date but I was so far behind on my reviews that it's taken me a month to get around to reviewing. On the plus side, this week's reading slump has help me get closer to catching up!

Brief synopsis: 

Daphne is widowed and has worked very hard to make a life for herself and her daughter in New York. The child of Greek immigrants, she spent her summers with her Yia-yia (grandmother) on the island of Erikousa and now that she's about to marry again, she has a yearning to return, to marry in a place dear to her heart. She has always wished the mythical cypress whispers would call out to her but although they speak to her Yia-yia, Daphne is convinced the cypress whispers are a myth.  As she and her daughter settle in and are reminded of the ancient ways, she meets a fisherman who helps Daphne learn the depth of her grandmother's heart and the way to her own.

My feelings about When the Cypress Whispers are mixed. I loved the Greek setting for the armchair travel experience and I liked the WWII story about her grandmother but I thought there was something slightly uncomfortable about the writing style. I never did entirely get a grip on what it was that I disliked (apart from the fact that some parts were predictable) but I chose to ignore it and just enjoy the sense of place, which was almost visceral, as much about sensation as it was about tradition and beauty, history and one little island's fierce determination to cling to its identity. There's a feminist undercurrent which I was okay with till the end. I didn't think the ending fit the beginning and middle, primarily because I just couldn't reconcile what became of one character to the way that person was described throughout the novel. In other words, When the Cypress Whispers was lacking a crucial sense of balance.

Recommended - I liked the setting enough to give When the Cypress Whispers a 3.5/5 rating. I loved Daphne's daughter, her Yia-yia, the descriptions of island life, the fisherman, some of the other crazy characters. But, I disliked the ending and didn't really like the protagonist. I did sense a slight feminist agenda and, for the most part, I liked it. But, the way it came to the forefront in the ending felt awkward and wrong. Best to read for the sense of place and the characters.

Pigs in Heaven by Barbara Kingsolver was this month's F2F read and, once again, I missed the group discussion. But, this time it was because I was about 2/3 of the way into the book and loving it enough that I didn't want the ending spoiled. Copyrighted in 1993, my copy of Pigs in Heaven was purchased secondhand and has been sitting around for years. I'm glad the F2F group gave me that nudge I needed to actually open the book.

I don't know if Pigs in Heaven is the only follow-up to The Bean Trees (which I have not read) or there's another book but quick synopsis: Taylor adopted Turtle, a Cherokee who was abused and thrown into Taylor's car by a desperate woman. On a road trip, Turtle witnesses a man's fall into a hole at Hoover Dam and ends up on an Oprah episode dedicated to child heroes. A Cherokee lawyer sees Oprah and recognizes the Cherokee features on the little girl. She's convinced the adoption cannot possibly be legal and investigates. When Taylor finds out that lawyer Annawake wants to bring Turtle back to the tribe, she grabs Turtle and runs. But, as she becomes increasingly desperate and begins to miss her network of friends, she realizes that what's best for Turtle and herself may be the same thing from which she's running.

I've had one of those horrid reading weeks when you pick up a book, set it aside, pick up another and read a bit, drift off, try another book . . .  on and on. Nothing was clicking for me and that included Pigs in Heaven. I found the country accents (which didn't jibe with anything I've ever heard in Oklahoma or Mississippi) particularly annoying. But, then the story and its theme became apparent and I ended up absolutely loving Pigs in Heaven. I've read or heard a little about tribal law and the story was definitely plausible, from what I know. I also recognized imagery, for once. There are two flocks of birds -- pigeons and Canada geese -- that are considered unwelcome at different times and places in the books. The pigeons are killed, the geese relocated. Clearly, they represented the American Indian tribes who were murdered and relocated when the incoming whites decided they wanted the natives' land.

Highly recommended - A terrific story about the importance of family and identity as well as the painful history of Native Americans.  I acquired a copy of The Bean Trees secondhand, at the same time I bought Pigs in Heaven and I'm anxious to read that, as well.  I got a big kick when my hometown was mentioned, even if though it was brief and not descriptive. I miss home. I always will, I suppose.

©2014 Nancy Horner. All rights reserved. If you are reading this post at a site other than Bookfoolery  or its RSS feed, you are reading a stolen feed. Email bookfoolery@gmail.com for written permission to reproduce text or photos.

Empire of the Summer Moon by S. C. Gwynne

The Comanche male was thus gloriously, astoundingly free. He was subject to no church, no organized religion, no priest class, no military societies, no state, no police, no public law, no domineering clans or powerful families, no strict rules of personal behavior, nothing telling him he could not leave his band and join another one, nothing even telling him he could not abscond with his friend's wife, though he certainly would end up paying somewhere between one and ten horses for that indulgence, assuming he was caught. He was free to organize his own military raids; free to come and go as he pleased.

~p. 51, Empire of the Summer Moon

It took me forever to read this book because what you don't see in that excerpt about the Comanche male is that the lack of religion, law and rules of personal behavior meant that when they attacked other tribes or white settlers, Comanches were vicious to the point that they are among the few who, in retrospect, could truly be called "savage" without it being a racial slur. Seeing nothing wrong with torture (including that of babies), rape (heavily pregnant women and elderly women were not immune to rape and torture), scalpings and other horrors, young Comanches actually appeared to enjoy the cruelties they inflicted on their enemies. The details make for hard reading. Not everything about the book makes it miserable, though, or I would never have made it to the end.

So many raids were made by moonlight that in Texas a full, bright spring or summer moon is still known as a Comanche Moon.

~p. 65

When my book club discussed Empire of the Summer Moon, I wasn't able to attend. I'm sorry I missed the discussion. I was still only partway through the book because I had to keep setting it aside (although that's not the reason I didn't make it to the meeting). It kept occurring to me that the Comanche gang rapes -- which were often followed by murder, but not always . . . sometimes a woman would survive the initial attack, only to go through the same thing repeatedly -- could be classified as "sociopathic group-think run amok" [my wording]. These were not your sweet, passive Indians who were eventually shuffled off to reservations after giving in peacefully to numerous unfathomably ridiculous requests. The Comanches fought to the bitter end and in the nastiest ways imaginable. They fought to win and to drive people away. It worked for a very long time.

Quanah Parker was the last Comanche chief and part of Empire of the Summer Moon is his story, the story of the final people to leave their land behind and how he negotiated for his people and cleverly earned a fortune. But, most of Empire of the Summer Moon is dedicated to the history of the Comanches, how they lived and why they were able to ride for hundreds of miles without getting lost, how they defeated the Apaches, drove back the Spanish and stopped the white man's expansion into "Comancheria".

There's also plenty about Quanah's mother, the young white captive Cynthia Ann Parker. Although most everything that has been written about her either is very vague or involves a lot of assumptions because of what the author of Empire of the Summer Moon refers to as her "resonating silence" after she was retrieved from the Comanches, the author did an astounding job of gathering parallel accounts and information about various sightings of Cynthia Ann that help round out her story.

By the point of her liberation by whites, Cynthia Ann Parker had not only become a part of her Comanche tribe (with a completely different name) but was happily married to a chief and had three children. Her husband's death and the separation from her boys grieved her deeply. Cynthia Ann's story is a very sad one. Had she lived, I'm sure she would have been pleased with her only surviving child's leadership and kindness toward his people.

I could spend all day typing up quotations from the book because it is fascinating, well-written, informative history and at a glance I can see that I probably marked at least 25-30 passages. But, instead I'll tell you that if you're interested in Native American history, it's a must read. I've been on a bit of a Native American bent for the last couple of months and the first two books were highly critical of white treatment of Indians, as all books about Native Americans should be, in some way. But, Empire of the Summer Moon also shows the flip side -- the devastation and cruelty inflicted on white settlers by the uncivilized tribes.

As in any book of its kind, there is no escaping the horrors whites inflicted on Indians. They came, they saw, they conquered. But, author S. C. Gwynne gives you a good understanding of the rights and wrongs on both sides, the combined cruelty and idiocy of the young American government's decisions regarding our aboriginal people, as well as a glimpse into the reason hunter/gatherers eventually lose out to agrarian societies. Very engrossing stuff. I have two more non-fiction titles about Native Americans and a fictional account of Cynthia Parker's life (which I already know is in many ways wildly inaccurate) that I'm looking forward to reading, hopefully in the near future.

One of the things I really enjoyed about Empire of the Summer Moon was reading about various other tribes besides the Comanches, how they arrived in Indian Territory (aka, my home state, Oklahoma) and the wildly diverse camping grounds of the Comanches. Sometimes, I recognized the descriptions as places near my hometown. I miss Oklahoma, even 25 years after moving away, so it always gives me a buzz to read anything at all about "home".

I think this quote gives you a good idea of both the years of great change described and the quality of writing in Empire of the Summer Moon:

Much of what was left of [the Penatekas], starving and demoralized, limped on to a tiny reservation in 1855, despised even by other Comanches.

Only ten years before, such a thing would have been unimaginable. At the moment of the raid on Parker's Fort, the moment when a weeping Lucy Parker placed her terrified daughter on the rear flank of a Comanche mustang, the Comanches, and the Penatekas in particular, had been at the peak of their historical power and influence. They had defeated the Europeans, cowed the Mexicans, and had so thoroughly mastered the far southern plains that they were no longer threatened by other tribes. They had enough enemies to keep them entertained and supplied with a surfeit of horseflesh. But none to really worry about. Their source of food and sustenance, the buffalo, roamed the plains in record numbers and still ranged into every corner of Comancheria. The tribe's low birth rates virtually guaranteed that their nomadic life following buffalo herds was infinitely sustainable. Their world was thus suspended in what seemed to be a perfect equilibrium, a balance of earth and wind and sun and sky that would endure forever. An empire under the bright summer moon. For those who witnessed the change at a very intimate and personal level, including Cynthia Ann and her husband, the speed with which that ideal world was dismantled must have seemed scarcely believable. She herself, the daughter of pioneers who were hammering violently at the age-old Comanche barrier that had defeated all other comers, now adopted into a culture that was beginning to die, was the emblem of the change.

~p. 110

Empire of the Summer Moon was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize, published by Scribner in 2010. Although it does bounce around in time a bit and can thus be a bit confusing, that and the fact that I thought the book could have used a glossary were my only complaints.

Highly recommended. An exceptionally written, extremely well-researched and revealing tale of American History, focusing on the Comanches and their downfall but including plenty of insight about other Native American tribes, the dangers to pioneers of the time period and the clueless handling of the Comanche "problem" by the young American government and its army. The Civil War and its impact on the frontier is also described. One warning: there is some very graphic description of violence in Empire of the Summer Moon.

Just walked in:

All Woman and Springtime by Brandon W. Jones and

Heading Out to Wonderful by Robert Goolrick -- both surprises from Algonquin Books

They also sent me copies of two books that I have tried and failed to get into, so I think I just won't mention them, although I may give one a second chance (the other got two chances but will not get a third).

Let's offset the Native American History glum with a bit of kitty fun:

No, I did not let Isabel begin a workout. She gets enough working out, I promise you. Crazy cat. Happy Tuesday!

©2012 Nancy Horner. All rights reserved. If you are reading this post at a site other than Bookfoolery and Babble or its RSS feed, you are reading a stolen feed. Email bookfoolery@gmail.com for written permission to reproduce text or photos.

Themed Reading - Native Americans in The Wind is My Mother, Light on a Distant Hill & Edward Curtis: Coming to Light

I've recently read three books about Native Americans, their lifestyle, beliefs and a man known for his determination to photograph them before it was too late. It seems logical to put them together, but this is accordingly a very, very long post.

The Wind Is My Mother: The Life and Teachings of a Native American Shaman by Bear Heart is part memoir, part advice, part history -- an excellent book about one Native American's beliefs and how he believes they can be adapted to fit our lives in today's world. It was published in 1996 but the advice is certainly as relevant now as it was then. I bought The Wind Is My Mother during Borders' going-out-of-business sale and I wish I'd just bought everything they had on Native Americans. If I'd known I was going to become slightly obsessed with reading about North America's first people, I certainly would have.

I learned quite a bit from The Wind Is My Mother. For example, the author says, contrary to popular belief, Native Americans are all monotheistic, so the ceremonies white people thought of as pagan were all, in fact, designed to make requests or thank a single Creator, although they symbolically used creatures and objects which appeared to outsiders to be "gods" to whom they were praying. You can understand how the confusion occurred when you read about Native American ceremonies. Bear Heart also disputes the story that Columbus called the natives "Indians" because he thought he was in India. Here's what the author has to say about the naming of natives by Columbus:

I don't always feel comfortable in talking about Indians; even the word Indian itself is very misunderstood. When Columbus found the natives here, they were gentle people who accepted him, so Columbus wrote in his journal, "These are people of God." In his language, he wrote "In Dios." Later, the s was dropped and Indio eventually became Indian, which originated as "people of God." ~~from p. 160 of The Wind Is My Mother

Here's an interesting story that leads to some always-timely advice:

A witch doctor from South Africa told me how they catch monkeys there. They bore a hole in a pumpkin large enough to slip in a banana, then they reach through the hole with a spoon, clean out the inside and drop in the banana. When a monkey comes around, he smells the banana inside the pumpkin, sticks his little forearm in there, feels around, grabs hold of that banana, and then he's stuck. His brain will not tell him that to free his hand he's got to release that banana. He just holds on. ~~pp. 111-2

The advice:

There are many, many ways to let go of our bananas, so to speak. The way my people take care of something that we're not happy with is to honor it and say, "Thank you, you've taught me a lesson." If its anger, if it's hate, if it's a drinking problem: "Boy, you've been with me for a long time. Now I'm going to try something else. But I want to thank you for teaching me something about myself." Never try to just get rid of it. You can't, it's too strong, it's too embedded. Instead, honor it and say, "Thank you." ~~p. 113

I love that. My absolute favorite part of the book, though, is a tale about a time when the author went to Hawaii to fulfill his deceased son's wish that he could see it. His son had written about the beauty of Hawaii when he landed in there on the way to being stationed in the Philippines. You have to read the book to fully understand the story, but as a baby Bear Heart was dedicated to God by his mother, when he was near death. She kept her promise to raise him the way she prayed she would if God would save his life and these many years later, he went up to Pele Point, a place where, "According to Hawaiian legends, the winds of the universe have their beginning." Because his mother was of the Wind Clan, he wanted to go up there at midnight (he doesn't explain what the Wind Clan and midnight have to do with each other) but he was told he couldn't by park rangers.

He told them he needed to go and they said they'd drive him to the chain across the road and he could walk from there. He agreed, stepped over the chain and as he walked he sang his songs "to each of the Four Directions--East, South, West and North." I'll let him tell you the rest.

When I got through, I said, "My mother, when I was very small, dedicated me. At this time I rededicate myself anew to You--from my heart. I will be Your feet, Your hands, Your eyes, Your voice, just as she said. If there's any love that You have, a special love that You want for people, let it flow through me. Let me touch someone and make them a little happier, so that they can be well and walk with good purpose upon this land. Please use me." I dedicated my life again in that way.

When I came back down, the guards asked who was up there with me. I said, "No one." They said they heard lots of voices singing. They heard it, I didn't. ~~p. 146

Well, that sure gave me chills. I absolutely loved The Wind Is My Mother and found myself quoting it aloud quite a bit. I highly recommend it and plan to reread my copy, hopefully many times.

In the midst of reading The Wind Is My Mother, my face-to-face group voted on Empire of the Summer Moon by S. C. Gwynne for our January reading selection, so I'll be reading that very soon. And, then a book I've had on my wish list at Paperback Swap for at least 4 years became available.

Edward C. Curtis: Coming to Light by Anne Makepeace is a National Geographic book, so it's slightly large with pages about the size of letterhead, around 8" x 11" -- large enough that the details of the many photographs included don't require a lot of eyestrain (although I did occasionally use a magnifying glass to look closer at certain images).

Edward Curtis was, of course, the famously obsessed photographer who spent most of his adult years trying to photograph all of the North American Indian Tribes in costume before their customs, traditions and native costumes ceased to exist. It took him 30 years to create 20 extraordinarily expensive volumes of photographs and the process was as costly as it was time-consuming.

Coming to Light is also extremely informative. The author talks about specific tribal ceremonies and people that Edward Curtis photographed, as well as his personal life, his artistic vision and how his divorce led to the loss of a large number of glass negatives. The author went in pursuit of living Native Americans who were present when the photographs were taken or who had some knowledge of what was happening or who was photographed and her discoveries are also both amazing and entertaining. She also mentioned some of the controversy surrounding his photography and gave examples of what he did that made the accuracy of some of his images questionable.

I highly recommend Edward C. Curtis: Coming to Light especially to those who are interested in actually learning about Edward Curtis. Coming to Light is not really a typical coffee-table book as it only contains a selection of his photos (but a nice selection, in my humble opinion). I'm hoping to someday find a larger book that focuses on display of his photographs, but it was really a more accurate look at Curtis' life that I was hoping to find, after reading a fictional account that I found disappointing, and I thought the text was stellar. I learned much more about Native Americans from the book than expected.

Light On a Distant Hill by B. J. Scott is a novel my friend Paula read while I was in the midst of reading about Edward Curtis. It's fiction, but Paula highly recommended it and I looked it up as soon as I finished reading Coming to Light. There's some crossover between all three of these books, as it's only natural that certain characters are frequently mentioned. In Light on a Distant Hill, a young mail-order bride named Ellen leaves her home in Salina, Kansas and heads west to meet the man she intends to marry, a cavalry officer stationed at Fort Walla Walla in Washington Territory.

On the way, Ellen is kidnapped by Shoshone Indians at a massacre in which she is one of only two survivors. She tries repeatedly to escape from the Shoshone but fails and finally accepts her plight. And, then she finds herself slowly becoming one of them as she learns their ways and falls in love.

Meanwhile, her fiance has refused to believe the accounts claiming Ellen died in the attack. But, he is unable to take enough time to track her down and resumes his job, hunting the people his beloved has come to think of as her own. After white soldiers attack the Shoshone, killing women and children and threatening Ellen's husband, she must run for her life. She ends up following Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce, the man known for the famous quote "I will fight no more forever," made at the time of surrender, after his people had been chased 1500 miles by the militia.

The wonderful thing about this particular novel is that it is so incredibly sympathetic to Native Americans and the horror they experienced. The author acknowledges that the natives were human and not wholly innocent of their own crimes against whites, but places their experience in a context that makes you feel as if you were there, you understand and . . . honestly? . . . you're really pissed off, by the time you get to the surrender of Chief Joseph.

There are author's notes describing changes the author made. He did take a few liberties, but Light on a Distant Hill's setting is apparently very well-researched. Much of what Scott wrote was also described in Coming to Light and the three books together make a fascinating trio. Since I'd already read a little about Chief Joseph and the plight of the natives in general, the effect was very much like going from reading about the horror of the eradication of natives to experiencing it from their viewpoint. Light on a Distant Hill is told as a memory, when a young reporter goes to interview the elderly Ellen in the 1930s.

A side note: I would probably not normally have purchased Light on a Distant Hill because it is apparently a self-published book: the publisher is AuthorHouse. I only read self-published books by people I know or when they're recommended by readers I know and trust, these days. Obviously, Paula is a trusted friend because I did rush over to Amazon to buy the e-book, almost the moment I finished Coming to Light.

There's a bit of a romance aspect to Light on a Distant Hill and a couple brief, graphic love scenes (which I'm never fond of) but in spite of a bit of mush and sex, I have no complaints. I thought the writing, while not brilliant, was very good. However, it's both the sense of time and place and the author's ability to empathize with Native Americans without glorifying them that make the book shine. Definitely recommended, especially when paired with non-fiction about Native Americans.

I have to add that there are quotes throughout both Coming to Light and Light on a Distant Hill that will doubly horrify readers -- quotes by army officers and famous white Americans of the time, in which they speak of Indians as subhuman. Sound familiar? It struck me as particularly odd that the invading Europeans spoke of the natives as lesser life forms and set about eradicating them whilst stealing the people of another culture they considered lesser life forms, at the time (Africans). Throughout history, people have described opposing cultures in similar ways and enslaved or killed their chosen enemies but it struck me as odd that there were two cultures being destroyed at around the same time by the same people. And, isn't it horrifying how the same thing keeps happening, the world over? The author compared the eradication of Native Americans to the slaughter of Jews by Hitler. The more I read, the more I agree.

At any rate, the plight of the natives in the United States is a sad one but a tale that I think we all need to learn -- the truth, that is. From The Wind Is My Mother I learned why the natives responded with what most of us probably consider weakness when they made agreements with white men but the white men not only didn't keep up their end of the bargain but also eventually killed them off and shuffled the natives around on death marches to camps hundreds of miles across the country. It all has to do with the peace pipe. Bear Heart explained that when his people smoked the peace pipe, they were making a promise before their Creator. And, promises made in the presence of God could not be broken. So, they were not meek little lambs being led around but extremely devoted, spiritual people.

If you made it through all three reviews and the rant at the end, I must offer you a virtual hand-shake. Sorry this post is so long. The reading of the three books was quite an experience and I'm looking forward to learning more, sad as I know it will be. I'll post a photo of the other books I've purchased, some time soon. I think this post is quite long enough!

©2011 Nancy Horner. All rights reserved. If you are reading this post at a site other than Bookfoolery and Babble or its RSS feed, you are reading a stolen feed. Email bookfoolery@gmail.com

for written permission to reproduce text or photos.