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Neither Wolf Nor Dog #3
The Girl Who Sang to the Buffalo
A haunting dream that will not relent pulls author Kent Nerburn back into the hidden world of Native America, where dreams have meaning, animals are teachers, and the “old ones” still have powers beyond our understanding. In this moving narrative, we travel through the lands of the Lakota and the Ojibwe, where we encounter a strange little girl with an unnerving connection to the past, a forgotten asylum that history has tried to hide, and the complex, unforgettable characters we have come to know from Neither Wolf nor Dog and The Wolf at Twilight. Part history, part mystery, part spiritual journey and teaching story, The Girl Who Sang to the Buffalo is filled with the profound insight into humanity and Native American culture we have come to expect from Nerburn’s journeys. As the American Indian College Fund has stated, once you have encountered Nerburn’s stirring evocations of America’s high plains and incisive insights into the human heart, “you can never look at the world, or at people, the same way again.”
408 pages, Paperback
First published October 1, 2013
212 people are currently reading
2413 people want to read
About the author
Kent Nerburn
43 books462 followersI'm a child of the 60's, a son of the north, and a lover of dogs.
Grew up in a crackerbox post-war bungalow outside of Minneapolis with my mother and father, two younger sisters, various dogs and cats, and a neighborhood full of rugrat kids playing outside until called in for the night.
Studied American Studies at the University of Minnesota, Religious Studies and Humanities at Stanford University, received a Ph.D. in Religion and Art in a joint program at Graduate Theological Union and the University of California at Berkeley. Lots of learning, lots of awards. Phi Beta Kappa. Summa cum Laude. Lots of stuff that looks good on paper.
But just as important, an antique restorer's shop in Marburg, Germany; the museums of Florence; a sculpture studio in the back alleys of Pietrasanta, Italy; an Indian reservation in the forests of northern Minnesota; and, perhaps above all, the American road.
Always a watcher, always a wanderer, perhaps too empathetic for my own good, more concerned with the "other" than the "self", always more interested in what people believed than in what they thought. A friend of the ordinary and the life of the streets.
Twenty years as a sculptor -- over-life sized images hand-chiseled from large tree trunks -- efforts to embody emotional and spiritual states in wood. Then, still searching, years helping young people collect memories of the tribal elders on the Red Lake Ojibwe reservation in the Minnesota north. Then writing,
always writing, finding a voice and even a calling, helping Native America tell its story.
A marriage, children, a home on a pine-rimmed lake near the Minnesota-Canadian border.
Book after book, seventeen in all, ever seeking the heartbeat of people's belief. Journeys, consolations, the caring observer, always the teacher, always the learner. Ever mindful of the wise counsel of an Ojibwe elder, "Always teach by stories, because stories lodge deep in the heart."
Through grace and good luck, an important trilogy (Neither Wolf nor Dog, The Wolf at Twilight, and The Girl who Sang to the Buffalo), a film, Minnesota Book Awards, South Dakota book of the year, many "community reads," book sales around the world.
In the end, a reluctant promoter, a quiet worker, a seeker of an authentic American spirituality, more concerned with excellence than quantity. Proud to be referred to as "a guerilla theologian" and honored to be called "the one writer who can respectfully bridge the gap between native and non-Native cultures". But more honored still to hear a twelve-year-old girl at one of my readings whisper to her mom, "He's a really nice man."
At heart, just an ordinary person, grateful to be a father and a husband, more impressed by kindness than by power, doing what I can with the skills that I have to pay my rent for my time on earth. And trying, always trying, to live by Sitting Bull's entreaty: "Come let us put our minds together to see what kind of lives we can create for our children."
And petting every dog that I can.
Grew up in a crackerbox post-war bungalow outside of Minneapolis with my mother and father, two younger sisters, various dogs and cats, and a neighborhood full of rugrat kids playing outside until called in for the night.
Studied American Studies at the University of Minnesota, Religious Studies and Humanities at Stanford University, received a Ph.D. in Religion and Art in a joint program at Graduate Theological Union and the University of California at Berkeley. Lots of learning, lots of awards. Phi Beta Kappa. Summa cum Laude. Lots of stuff that looks good on paper.
But just as important, an antique restorer's shop in Marburg, Germany; the museums of Florence; a sculpture studio in the back alleys of Pietrasanta, Italy; an Indian reservation in the forests of northern Minnesota; and, perhaps above all, the American road.
Always a watcher, always a wanderer, perhaps too empathetic for my own good, more concerned with the "other" than the "self", always more interested in what people believed than in what they thought. A friend of the ordinary and the life of the streets.
Twenty years as a sculptor -- over-life sized images hand-chiseled from large tree trunks -- efforts to embody emotional and spiritual states in wood. Then, still searching, years helping young people collect memories of the tribal elders on the Red Lake Ojibwe reservation in the Minnesota north. Then writing,
always writing, finding a voice and even a calling, helping Native America tell its story.
A marriage, children, a home on a pine-rimmed lake near the Minnesota-Canadian border.
Book after book, seventeen in all, ever seeking the heartbeat of people's belief. Journeys, consolations, the caring observer, always the teacher, always the learner. Ever mindful of the wise counsel of an Ojibwe elder, "Always teach by stories, because stories lodge deep in the heart."
Through grace and good luck, an important trilogy (Neither Wolf nor Dog, The Wolf at Twilight, and The Girl who Sang to the Buffalo), a film, Minnesota Book Awards, South Dakota book of the year, many "community reads," book sales around the world.
In the end, a reluctant promoter, a quiet worker, a seeker of an authentic American spirituality, more concerned with excellence than quantity. Proud to be referred to as "a guerilla theologian" and honored to be called "the one writer who can respectfully bridge the gap between native and non-Native cultures". But more honored still to hear a twelve-year-old girl at one of my readings whisper to her mom, "He's a really nice man."
At heart, just an ordinary person, grateful to be a father and a husband, more impressed by kindness than by power, doing what I can with the skills that I have to pay my rent for my time on earth. And trying, always trying, to live by Sitting Bull's entreaty: "Come let us put our minds together to see what kind of lives we can create for our children."
And petting every dog that I can.
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April 15, 2015
I am so thrilled to give a book 5 stars! I don't think Kent Nerburn set out to write a trilogy, when he wrote a book several years ago about a Lakota elder named Dan. It was riveting, because Nerburn writes neither as an Indian wannabe, nor whitewashes (excuse the phrase) the relationship between their culture and ours. It's as if you're in the front seat with him, as he makes his trips back and forth from northern Minnesota to South Dakota. His first and second books about Dan also got 5 stars from me, and I've been to see the author speak a few times. What a gift he has, verbally, and on the written page!
I've read several Native American novels, and respect each one. I've also spent a lot of time in the northwoods of Minnesota. As a child, it was common to see the Ojibwe people around the small town where we visited in the summers. Through Nerburn's words, I feel like I have some insight to the Lakota people of the plains, too.
In fact, I order Kent's books though his website. It costs more than through Amazon or Barnes & Noble, but each one is signed, and his sister packs and sends them. Keep up the good work, Mr. Nerburn!
I've read several Native American novels, and respect each one. I've also spent a lot of time in the northwoods of Minnesota. As a child, it was common to see the Ojibwe people around the small town where we visited in the summers. Through Nerburn's words, I feel like I have some insight to the Lakota people of the plains, too.
In fact, I order Kent's books though his website. It costs more than through Amazon or Barnes & Noble, but each one is signed, and his sister packs and sends them. Keep up the good work, Mr. Nerburn!
October 1, 2013
The Girl Who Sang to the Buffalo:
A Child, an Elder, and the Light from an Ancient Sky
By Kent Nerburn
This time Nerburn starts having vivid dreams. They’re relentless, confounding, and ominous. Eventually, they propel him into his third encounter with the American Indian world of Dan the Elder; Grover the grouch; Jumbo the gentle giant; a slobbery orphan dog; a wistful, young girl with an old soul; a woodland Anishinaabe man known by Dan as one of “the old ones” who raises buffalo; and a gruesome Indian insane asylum in South Dakota.
Of the three books Nerburn has written on his experiences with the Indian people of “Dan the Elder’s” world, “The Girl Who Sang to the Buffalo.” is the most fleshed-out, mysterious, awe-inspiring, sad, humorous, suspenseful, and courageous. Nerburn walks to the edge of a deep precipice of human understanding and shows us the terror and magnitude of things Western Europeans may never fully understand. In the framework of indigenous spirituality, cosmology, and culture all things are connected. In the hands of the literary master craftsman Kent Nerburn, the disparate landscapes, personalities and situations in his book are also connected and profoundly meaningful.
Nerburn has an understanding of the Native culture that transcends the best efforts of theologians, anthropologists, sociologists, the Bureau of Indian Affairs, American government, and zealot do-gooders. He puts himself in situations he knows will pummel his ego but lead him to a place of knowledge and understanding. To be available for these teachings, he is lead across axel-busting-back-country roads, greasy roadhouses, a senior citizens home, deep forests, encounters with a menacing buffalo bull, and a historically suppressed Indian insane asylum. Most often, he is reluctant to challenge his own comforts but always committed to his friendship with Dan the Elder, and subsequently, the search for Dan’s long-lost sister, Yellow Bird.
The Hiawatha Asylum for Insane Indians, Canton, SD (1901 – 1934) was an institution in a small town in southeastern South Dakota that was the brainchild of Indian agent and Republican Senator R.F. Pettigrew and Canton’s former town mayor, Oscar Gifford. The former mayor wanted to promote jobs and bring esteem to an otherwise unknown entity on the edge of the western prairie. It was, ostensibly, erected to serve the truly desperate Native individual who suffered from “mental illness” and needed institutionalization. In fact, Gifford was a land developer who made out pretty well on the deal and became the first Administrator of the asylum without any prior medical experience, knowledge of hospitals, psychiatry, or Native Americans.
The Indians? You guessed it – they got screwed again: chained to radiator pipes; abandoned in locked cells to lie in their own filth for weeks; forced labor; beaten and tortured; and most of them never heard from again. One hundred and twenty one “inmates” were buried in graves that now lie between the fourth and fifth fairways of the local golf course. The asylum was the last place Dan’s sister was suspected of being seen or heard of alive.
Enter Nerburn. Armed with new information about Dan’s sister that is related to his unusual dreams, Nerburn travels back and forth between Minnesota, South Dakota, and remote forests of Northern Minnesota more than once finding, again and again, one more clue or possibility in the search for Yellow Bird. In between the many miles of his travels, he witnesses events and situations that tear at the tenuous membrane of our understanding of reality. For “the old ones”, it is business as usual. For the readers of this of this book, it is phantasmagoric.
There are “homilies” in all of Nerburn’s “Dan the Elder” books that should be required reading for every history, social studies, and religious studies program in our public schools. The words of Grover in chapters 16, “Priests and Pelicans” and Dan’s in chapter 24, “Two Worlds Inside You” are examples of the words of the Native people that need to be heard by everyone. What Nerburn relates to us is “No Bullshit” (Chapter 17) and we need to hear it.
Kent Nerburn is committed to mutual understanding between the dominant society of the Christian Western European and the indigenous people of this continent. He, of course, is not alone in that effort. However, he is one of the few who brings humanity and perspective to an acrimonious relationship between two opposing cultures. He knows the difference between the humanity of his Indian characters and the “idea” of what an Indian should be.
Below the surface of his literary skill rides the underlying question posed by Harvard researcher and ethno botanist, Dr. Wade Davis, “What does it mean to be human and alive?” Nerburn brings humanity to the indigenous milieu and gives flesh and bones to people who were perceived as “non-human” by a society that felt it knew what was best for the “savages.”
Abandon all preconceptions ye who enter this realm of the indigenous world of the seen and the unseen. You may not believe what you see and hear but for the Indian people it’s all connected.
To hear and see Kent Nerburn talk about his work, go to:
http://youtu.be/IgHs9uk5qYI
A Child, an Elder, and the Light from an Ancient Sky
By Kent Nerburn
This time Nerburn starts having vivid dreams. They’re relentless, confounding, and ominous. Eventually, they propel him into his third encounter with the American Indian world of Dan the Elder; Grover the grouch; Jumbo the gentle giant; a slobbery orphan dog; a wistful, young girl with an old soul; a woodland Anishinaabe man known by Dan as one of “the old ones” who raises buffalo; and a gruesome Indian insane asylum in South Dakota.
Of the three books Nerburn has written on his experiences with the Indian people of “Dan the Elder’s” world, “The Girl Who Sang to the Buffalo.” is the most fleshed-out, mysterious, awe-inspiring, sad, humorous, suspenseful, and courageous. Nerburn walks to the edge of a deep precipice of human understanding and shows us the terror and magnitude of things Western Europeans may never fully understand. In the framework of indigenous spirituality, cosmology, and culture all things are connected. In the hands of the literary master craftsman Kent Nerburn, the disparate landscapes, personalities and situations in his book are also connected and profoundly meaningful.
Nerburn has an understanding of the Native culture that transcends the best efforts of theologians, anthropologists, sociologists, the Bureau of Indian Affairs, American government, and zealot do-gooders. He puts himself in situations he knows will pummel his ego but lead him to a place of knowledge and understanding. To be available for these teachings, he is lead across axel-busting-back-country roads, greasy roadhouses, a senior citizens home, deep forests, encounters with a menacing buffalo bull, and a historically suppressed Indian insane asylum. Most often, he is reluctant to challenge his own comforts but always committed to his friendship with Dan the Elder, and subsequently, the search for Dan’s long-lost sister, Yellow Bird.
The Hiawatha Asylum for Insane Indians, Canton, SD (1901 – 1934) was an institution in a small town in southeastern South Dakota that was the brainchild of Indian agent and Republican Senator R.F. Pettigrew and Canton’s former town mayor, Oscar Gifford. The former mayor wanted to promote jobs and bring esteem to an otherwise unknown entity on the edge of the western prairie. It was, ostensibly, erected to serve the truly desperate Native individual who suffered from “mental illness” and needed institutionalization. In fact, Gifford was a land developer who made out pretty well on the deal and became the first Administrator of the asylum without any prior medical experience, knowledge of hospitals, psychiatry, or Native Americans.
The Indians? You guessed it – they got screwed again: chained to radiator pipes; abandoned in locked cells to lie in their own filth for weeks; forced labor; beaten and tortured; and most of them never heard from again. One hundred and twenty one “inmates” were buried in graves that now lie between the fourth and fifth fairways of the local golf course. The asylum was the last place Dan’s sister was suspected of being seen or heard of alive.
Enter Nerburn. Armed with new information about Dan’s sister that is related to his unusual dreams, Nerburn travels back and forth between Minnesota, South Dakota, and remote forests of Northern Minnesota more than once finding, again and again, one more clue or possibility in the search for Yellow Bird. In between the many miles of his travels, he witnesses events and situations that tear at the tenuous membrane of our understanding of reality. For “the old ones”, it is business as usual. For the readers of this of this book, it is phantasmagoric.
There are “homilies” in all of Nerburn’s “Dan the Elder” books that should be required reading for every history, social studies, and religious studies program in our public schools. The words of Grover in chapters 16, “Priests and Pelicans” and Dan’s in chapter 24, “Two Worlds Inside You” are examples of the words of the Native people that need to be heard by everyone. What Nerburn relates to us is “No Bullshit” (Chapter 17) and we need to hear it.
Kent Nerburn is committed to mutual understanding between the dominant society of the Christian Western European and the indigenous people of this continent. He, of course, is not alone in that effort. However, he is one of the few who brings humanity and perspective to an acrimonious relationship between two opposing cultures. He knows the difference between the humanity of his Indian characters and the “idea” of what an Indian should be.
Below the surface of his literary skill rides the underlying question posed by Harvard researcher and ethno botanist, Dr. Wade Davis, “What does it mean to be human and alive?” Nerburn brings humanity to the indigenous milieu and gives flesh and bones to people who were perceived as “non-human” by a society that felt it knew what was best for the “savages.”
Abandon all preconceptions ye who enter this realm of the indigenous world of the seen and the unseen. You may not believe what you see and hear but for the Indian people it’s all connected.
To hear and see Kent Nerburn talk about his work, go to:
http://youtu.be/IgHs9uk5qYI
May 8, 2025
The Girl Who Sang to the Buffalo
is Kent Nerburn's third in his trilogy that began with award winning
Neither Wolf Nor Dog
about the relentless stripping of cultural infrastructure and internal bones of indigenous peoples, especially through the "resetting" of their children through white run school and church social gauntlets. Specifically considered in this book are patients and their descendants of the Hiawatha Asylum for Insane Indians.
I loved the return of Dan, Jumbo, Grover and Winona, and the new Zi who though a little bit of a human, has deep roots and no fears when it comes to connecting with Mother Earth and her Creations. And then, there is Festus.
Heartbreaking, and told in Nerburn's careful and thoughtful manner, he helps readers better understand the trauma and damage inflicted by hundreds of years of power grabbing for the sake of Manifest Destiny.
His writing and books provide opportunities for readers to compare the ideas/truths they've been trained up to with another side of the stories and histories taught throughout our 400 years of America. Perhaps even engage in some active mind changing from Othering to something more collaborative.
I'm looking forward to Kent Nerburn's new book Lone Dog Road , due out later this month.
I loved the return of Dan, Jumbo, Grover and Winona, and the new Zi who though a little bit of a human, has deep roots and no fears when it comes to connecting with Mother Earth and her Creations. And then, there is Festus.
Heartbreaking, and told in Nerburn's careful and thoughtful manner, he helps readers better understand the trauma and damage inflicted by hundreds of years of power grabbing for the sake of Manifest Destiny.
His writing and books provide opportunities for readers to compare the ideas/truths they've been trained up to with another side of the stories and histories taught throughout our 400 years of America. Perhaps even engage in some active mind changing from Othering to something more collaborative.
I'm looking forward to Kent Nerburn's new book Lone Dog Road , due out later this month.
July 16, 2014
Once again author Kent Nerburn brings the reader on a Journey - capitalization entirely intentional - not only into the Lakota lands his friends call home, but into the experience of being a First Nations person in America, as understood through the eyes, ears and heart of a someone who hs the best of intentions, and will always be just outside the truth of that experience.
This time the journey goes further than ever, not just into Lakota territory, but into the territory of the Ojibwe, the Anishnabe.
This time the request comes not through a phone line but through time itself, in a dream, setting Nerburn off balance, a state maintained throughout the book.
If the first book in this 'series' (for lack of a better term) explored the impacts of the larger historical events and contexts of the colonial presence in North America, and the second examined the more personal traumas experienced by individuals subject to the social control and abuses of the colonial powers, this most recent Journey challenges both the author, and any non-Aboriginal readers on an entirely different level. In this book, Nerburn faces the the most difficult challenge of all - the challenge to the entire notion of how one learns to understand the world itself, their place in it, and to interpret what they see, hear, feel - even what they taste and smell. The juxtaposition between the two ways of experiencing the same world collide, not only as Nerburn struggles to balance his need to know against his desire to be respectful and honour a man he loves as a father, and friends he cares for deeply, and not only in adults who live torn between the pain of what they have lost and the pain of never being good enough in the world they've been forced to live in, but most of all in one small girl - who in the eyes of one world is damaged and sick, but in another world is not only blessed with gifts, but is a gift to her people.
As with the other two books, in part to protect the identities of his friends / mentors, and in part to create a compelling narrative, Nerburn has 'novelized' the teachings and experiences he had journeying with Dan, Grover, Jumbo, Donnie, Angie and Little Zi. They are real, however, as is the Hiawatha Asylum for Insane Indians (no, seriously), once the pride of Canton, South Dakota.
As with the other books, this book can stand alone, but it is linked more closely to the second installment than the second was to the first. If you are the type of person who far prefers to read related books in order, you will want to have at least read the second book in this 'trilogy' prior to reading this one, in order to have an understanding of the context and the connections between the characters.
"Enjoyed" doesn't seem to go deep enough for this book, although I didn't find it as "enjoyable" as the second book. The second book, being someone less portentous has more opportunity for humour built in. Although there were some very, very humourous moments in this piece of work, Kent Nerburn's frustration and persistent fears, valid and understandable as they were as he explained them, made this a darker book in a way than the second book was - and considering that the second book dealt with Residential Schools, that is saying something.
I did very, very much enjoy the fact that in this installment of the entire story, Nerburn, and hence the reader, got to know the character of Jumbo far better. With characteristic humility, Nerburn admits to having been judgemental in his earlier acquaintance with Jumbo, and although Jumbo does not become a mentor in the way that Dan is, as an Elder, he offers many wise teachings in his own humble way. There are also some intriguing air-clearing moments, and other new issues between Nerburn and Grover, and even between Nerburn and Wenoah.
Readers also meet some new characters: the truly enigmatic Old One, Benais, and the proud but lonely Edith, the embodiment of how shabbily we treat our own elders in "white" society.
As usual, Nerburns narrative style is indicative of his background as a visual artist, with frequent use of metaphor, and particular emphasis on the descriptions of the shapes of the land, as one might expect from someone who is a sculptor whose work is on display in various locations around North America. In these instances, Nerburn uses words instead of a chisel to carve for the reader a sense of the shape and feel of the land through which he travels, a sense of the flow and movement of the edges, the textures of the world around him, the depths of shade and shadow, colours and hues picked out in great detail. Perhaps in addition to this being part of Nerburn's background as an artist, this is a matter, for Nerburn, of ensuring that the reader understand how very much the characters we encounter through him or not only living on the land they are of the land - you cannot interact with them without also paying attention to and interacting with the land?
Given the state of health Dan is in during this book, I would find it hard to imagine that there will be more in this series, but one never knows. This saddens me. I know I will revisit these books, and that I will use them in my teaching with my First Nations students. I have learned much, and there is much left to be pondered and gleaned from these books. I certainly didn't get it all in the first read through.
I am grateful that Dan shared with Nerburn and that Nerburn heeded Dan's request to share with the rest of us, and most of all, glad that I picked up the this final book in the series one day, on a whim, and that I'm too freaky-deaky to read the last book first. It has been an honour to have learned from Dan and Grover and Wenoah and Odell, and Jumbo, Mary and Benais, and the others to whom Nerburn has introduced us, the readers, on these journeys.
This time the journey goes further than ever, not just into Lakota territory, but into the territory of the Ojibwe, the Anishnabe.
This time the request comes not through a phone line but through time itself, in a dream, setting Nerburn off balance, a state maintained throughout the book.
If the first book in this 'series' (for lack of a better term) explored the impacts of the larger historical events and contexts of the colonial presence in North America, and the second examined the more personal traumas experienced by individuals subject to the social control and abuses of the colonial powers, this most recent Journey challenges both the author, and any non-Aboriginal readers on an entirely different level. In this book, Nerburn faces the the most difficult challenge of all - the challenge to the entire notion of how one learns to understand the world itself, their place in it, and to interpret what they see, hear, feel - even what they taste and smell. The juxtaposition between the two ways of experiencing the same world collide, not only as Nerburn struggles to balance his need to know against his desire to be respectful and honour a man he loves as a father, and friends he cares for deeply, and not only in adults who live torn between the pain of what they have lost and the pain of never being good enough in the world they've been forced to live in, but most of all in one small girl - who in the eyes of one world is damaged and sick, but in another world is not only blessed with gifts, but is a gift to her people.
As with the other two books, in part to protect the identities of his friends / mentors, and in part to create a compelling narrative, Nerburn has 'novelized' the teachings and experiences he had journeying with Dan, Grover, Jumbo, Donnie, Angie and Little Zi. They are real, however, as is the Hiawatha Asylum for Insane Indians (no, seriously), once the pride of Canton, South Dakota.
As with the other books, this book can stand alone, but it is linked more closely to the second installment than the second was to the first. If you are the type of person who far prefers to read related books in order, you will want to have at least read the second book in this 'trilogy' prior to reading this one, in order to have an understanding of the context and the connections between the characters.
"Enjoyed" doesn't seem to go deep enough for this book, although I didn't find it as "enjoyable" as the second book. The second book, being someone less portentous has more opportunity for humour built in. Although there were some very, very humourous moments in this piece of work, Kent Nerburn's frustration and persistent fears, valid and understandable as they were as he explained them, made this a darker book in a way than the second book was - and considering that the second book dealt with Residential Schools, that is saying something.
I did very, very much enjoy the fact that in this installment of the entire story, Nerburn, and hence the reader, got to know the character of Jumbo far better. With characteristic humility, Nerburn admits to having been judgemental in his earlier acquaintance with Jumbo, and although Jumbo does not become a mentor in the way that Dan is, as an Elder, he offers many wise teachings in his own humble way. There are also some intriguing air-clearing moments, and other new issues between Nerburn and Grover, and even between Nerburn and Wenoah.
Readers also meet some new characters: the truly enigmatic Old One, Benais, and the proud but lonely Edith, the embodiment of how shabbily we treat our own elders in "white" society.
As usual, Nerburns narrative style is indicative of his background as a visual artist, with frequent use of metaphor, and particular emphasis on the descriptions of the shapes of the land, as one might expect from someone who is a sculptor whose work is on display in various locations around North America. In these instances, Nerburn uses words instead of a chisel to carve for the reader a sense of the shape and feel of the land through which he travels, a sense of the flow and movement of the edges, the textures of the world around him, the depths of shade and shadow, colours and hues picked out in great detail. Perhaps in addition to this being part of Nerburn's background as an artist, this is a matter, for Nerburn, of ensuring that the reader understand how very much the characters we encounter through him or not only living on the land they are of the land - you cannot interact with them without also paying attention to and interacting with the land?
Given the state of health Dan is in during this book, I would find it hard to imagine that there will be more in this series, but one never knows. This saddens me. I know I will revisit these books, and that I will use them in my teaching with my First Nations students. I have learned much, and there is much left to be pondered and gleaned from these books. I certainly didn't get it all in the first read through.
I am grateful that Dan shared with Nerburn and that Nerburn heeded Dan's request to share with the rest of us, and most of all, glad that I picked up the this final book in the series one day, on a whim, and that I'm too freaky-deaky to read the last book first. It has been an honour to have learned from Dan and Grover and Wenoah and Odell, and Jumbo, Mary and Benais, and the others to whom Nerburn has introduced us, the readers, on these journeys.
July 22, 2014
Kent Nerburn's new The Girl Who Sang to the Buffalo: A Child, an Elder, and the Light from an Ancient Sky is a wonder. The final volume in a trilogy that is neither Western-style history nor fiction, it does what neither can do on their own: take you into the mind, and now also the spiritual awareness, of traditional Indians. Traditional knowledge is often imparted through story, and this is what Nerburn does, story that is not really fiction. (To learn more how he does what he does explore his website.)
The first two in the series: "Neither Wolf Nor Dog" and "The Wolf at Twilight." are wonderful on their own terms. They constitute the most penetrating views of how Indians live in today's world that I have ever read. They are told from the perspective of a white guy chosen to tell these stories, and to do this he has to know both cultures deeply. In his own way he is neither wolf nor dog. They are rich with history, humor, fascinating people, tragedy past and present, and a deep rootedness we Americans mostly can only wish we had. But the spiritual world in which traditional Native Americans live, and its cultural and psychological tensions with the West were only lightly touched upon.
When I read them I suspected in his first two books Nerburn pulled his punches a little. There are many good reasons for his having done so. But no punches are pulled in this one. The first two books gave those of us who read them the grounding not so much to understand, as to accept and respect the unfolding of the third. In the course of the third Nerburn gives us a powerful taste of a world European culture has sought to destroy. It takes us as far as a white guy on the outside can go in how they experience it.
Years ago, three days alone on Mt. Shasta took me much farther, and changed, deepened, and complicated my life. But compared to characters in his account, I was and will always remain a beginner, too enmeshed in the modern world to carry my understanding much farther than I have. I did go far enough to appreciate from the other side the same dilemmas his Indian characters faced, and understand why some tried to protect Nerburn from having to confront the disjunction between Indian spiritual reality and that of the dominant modern culture. You can't really go back. But perhaps it is time for more and more whites to set aside their arrogance or their fear (which often lies under the arrogance) and open ourselves to really grasping the world is bigger than we are at levels we cannot even begin to imagine.
I think the most important single thing American culture can do is free itself of its arrogant belief it has a uniquely accurate take on the world in which we live. Our culture is like a sociopath who cannot empathize with others' feelings and so cannot do more than seek to manipulate them. Small wonder then that America is dissolving around us into a world where corporations are considered human beings with more legal standing than people; where as soon as an infant is born those claiming to be 'pro-life' ignore his or her health, nutrition and education; where hospitals and schools are shot up by the spiritually depraved while the spiritually empty argue with enough guns we can overcome our fear of other people, our fellow Americans, our neighbors, and at root, ourselves.
Nerburn demonstrates that we have, as we have always had, alternatives, and that we carry the door into that alternative within our hearts. But this alternative opens into the More-than-human. With heart we also need respect and humility, two other very human values American culture has largely forgotten about. He is hardly the first to have said this and will not be the last, but few have said it as movingly, as beautifully, and as powerfully as Kent Nerburn does in The Girl Who Sang to the Buffalo.
The first two in the series: "Neither Wolf Nor Dog" and "The Wolf at Twilight." are wonderful on their own terms. They constitute the most penetrating views of how Indians live in today's world that I have ever read. They are told from the perspective of a white guy chosen to tell these stories, and to do this he has to know both cultures deeply. In his own way he is neither wolf nor dog. They are rich with history, humor, fascinating people, tragedy past and present, and a deep rootedness we Americans mostly can only wish we had. But the spiritual world in which traditional Native Americans live, and its cultural and psychological tensions with the West were only lightly touched upon.
When I read them I suspected in his first two books Nerburn pulled his punches a little. There are many good reasons for his having done so. But no punches are pulled in this one. The first two books gave those of us who read them the grounding not so much to understand, as to accept and respect the unfolding of the third. In the course of the third Nerburn gives us a powerful taste of a world European culture has sought to destroy. It takes us as far as a white guy on the outside can go in how they experience it.
Years ago, three days alone on Mt. Shasta took me much farther, and changed, deepened, and complicated my life. But compared to characters in his account, I was and will always remain a beginner, too enmeshed in the modern world to carry my understanding much farther than I have. I did go far enough to appreciate from the other side the same dilemmas his Indian characters faced, and understand why some tried to protect Nerburn from having to confront the disjunction between Indian spiritual reality and that of the dominant modern culture. You can't really go back. But perhaps it is time for more and more whites to set aside their arrogance or their fear (which often lies under the arrogance) and open ourselves to really grasping the world is bigger than we are at levels we cannot even begin to imagine.
I think the most important single thing American culture can do is free itself of its arrogant belief it has a uniquely accurate take on the world in which we live. Our culture is like a sociopath who cannot empathize with others' feelings and so cannot do more than seek to manipulate them. Small wonder then that America is dissolving around us into a world where corporations are considered human beings with more legal standing than people; where as soon as an infant is born those claiming to be 'pro-life' ignore his or her health, nutrition and education; where hospitals and schools are shot up by the spiritually depraved while the spiritually empty argue with enough guns we can overcome our fear of other people, our fellow Americans, our neighbors, and at root, ourselves.
Nerburn demonstrates that we have, as we have always had, alternatives, and that we carry the door into that alternative within our hearts. But this alternative opens into the More-than-human. With heart we also need respect and humility, two other very human values American culture has largely forgotten about. He is hardly the first to have said this and will not be the last, but few have said it as movingly, as beautifully, and as powerfully as Kent Nerburn does in The Girl Who Sang to the Buffalo.
April 26, 2017
The Third Story
I review this book reluctantly, like an Indian who would not want to reveal the Old Ways to just anybody…because, for me, it is not just the story, but it is the Spirit of the story that pulls your heart open, stirs your and anger and imagination, and tell the truth of it all.
This is the third story in a trilogy written by Kent Nerbern.The other two:
Neither Wolf nor Dog: On Forgotten Roads with an indian Elder
The Wolf at Twilight: An Elder's Journey Through a Land of Ghosts and Shadows
In a sense, all three books were at the request (read: demand) of a Lakota Indian elder, Dan, who lives on the rez in the Dakotas. He is an articulate, feisty, crusty, adamant, man of heart, and lover of the Old Ways. His friend Grover is a loyal Coyote character, a man of action, and also a lover of the Old Ways. Jumbo, the third Rez Indian and mechanic is the softest of all three—in so many ways. Nerbern is invited along for the ride. He documents the story through his own character.
And speaking of ways…we are talking the Old Ways here, with all the power that comes with it. The Spirit of the story is the 'Spirit that is in all things', and it leads where it wills, weaving the natural with the supernatural; leading, as well as listening, to the hearts of the ones who are open to its presence.
You have to be there, immersed, to get the story—and it will be a challenging immersion, well worth it. Sorrow, and peace abound, just like in the rest of life. But now you will be able to know it from an Elder's perspective, and from the perspective of one of his relatives—a little girl. It carries the madness of the white man in its hands, and how that madness does not survive the wisdom of the Spirit. You will know laughter, tears, and peace. A daring adventure for the one who embraces it.
July 9, 2014
I just read all 3 of Nerburn's "Dan" trilogy (The Wolf at Twilight, Neither Wolf nor Dog and this book) in about 10 days. I have mixed feelings about these books. On the one hand, they contain a lot of wisdom, supposedly passed to the author by a Lakota elder named Dan. Nerburn does a good job of using Dan to highlight differences between Lakota and White culture and he is not afraid to portray himself as a bumbling white man who makes every cultural faux pax in the book while visiting the reservation. There are parts of this book that are just plain uncomfortable for a White person to read, and I commend the author for that. Clearly, he didn't take the easy road.
That said, I am uncomfortable with Nerburn's use of fiction in telling the story and transmitting the wisdom of someone we are led to believe is real. My problem is that I don't know where the fiction ends and the fact begins, and for this reason, I can't quite trust these books, or the author in telling Dan's story.
That said, I am uncomfortable with Nerburn's use of fiction in telling the story and transmitting the wisdom of someone we are led to believe is real. My problem is that I don't know where the fiction ends and the fact begins, and for this reason, I can't quite trust these books, or the author in telling Dan's story.
April 26, 2018
I did not want to read this book at all. It was in that giant bummer category of assigned reading for bookclub/Pulitzer that I have zero interest in. And then, like a glimmering diamond buried in a giant pile of slag, it proved to be instead from my favorite category of books: the delightful surprise. And I was sure I would hate it--I hated the first one in this series, and this author rubs me the wrong way. But if I pushed him to the side a little, I was left with a really interesting, thought-provoking read that I discussed with two non-bookclub people just because it gave me so much to mull over.
August 11, 2018
I gave this book 5 stars because 4 stars didn't seem adequate. This is not going to be an easy review to write.
I came across this book randomly while on vacation in my parents small hometown library in the Dakotas. I didn't read the back of the book. I just grabbed it because it seemed different than all the other books around it. Christian romance......political satires....and a lot of Dean Koontz. I wasn't even sure I would read the book, but little did I know it would be so captivating.
Foremost, the book was very easy to read. Kent Newburn is a gifted storyteller. It's been a long time since I've read a book that has held my interest and heart so easily. The story seemed to flow quickly though he never rushed but took time in how he shared intricate details of his experience.
Though easy to read in literary style, it was a difficult read for my spirit. Its never easy to read about abused children and inhumane treatment of a group of people's because of their differences, but it was even harder for me because of it being done in the name of Christianity. As a devout Protestant Christian, it hurt to see how truths in my faith were forcefully seared in the hearts and minds of our indigenous peoples to where grace, mercy, and forgiveness are alien. Not one to parade the "white guilt" mantra of today's progressives, I couldn't ignore the sadness that overwhelmed me when reading parts of this book. Sadness that I never understood of a group of people's that live not to far from my childhood home, and a sadness that I never completely would be able to.
Paralleling the spiritual activity and experiences of the Native Americans in this book to my own beliefs was challenging and rewarding. It was a draining, but completely worth it in the end. I'm nervous to actually read books 1 and 2 in the series now because this book might have set a higher standard.
I came across this book randomly while on vacation in my parents small hometown library in the Dakotas. I didn't read the back of the book. I just grabbed it because it seemed different than all the other books around it. Christian romance......political satires....and a lot of Dean Koontz. I wasn't even sure I would read the book, but little did I know it would be so captivating.
Foremost, the book was very easy to read. Kent Newburn is a gifted storyteller. It's been a long time since I've read a book that has held my interest and heart so easily. The story seemed to flow quickly though he never rushed but took time in how he shared intricate details of his experience.
Though easy to read in literary style, it was a difficult read for my spirit. Its never easy to read about abused children and inhumane treatment of a group of people's because of their differences, but it was even harder for me because of it being done in the name of Christianity. As a devout Protestant Christian, it hurt to see how truths in my faith were forcefully seared in the hearts and minds of our indigenous peoples to where grace, mercy, and forgiveness are alien. Not one to parade the "white guilt" mantra of today's progressives, I couldn't ignore the sadness that overwhelmed me when reading parts of this book. Sadness that I never understood of a group of people's that live not to far from my childhood home, and a sadness that I never completely would be able to.
Paralleling the spiritual activity and experiences of the Native Americans in this book to my own beliefs was challenging and rewarding. It was a draining, but completely worth it in the end. I'm nervous to actually read books 1 and 2 in the series now because this book might have set a higher standard.
November 27, 2021
This book made me feel all the emotions you want to feel when reading. More than anything it educated me. I finished it the day before Thanksgiving. I read it with the intention of gaining an understanding of Native American history. I started with the 3rd in the trilogy(didn’t realize that at the time) and plan on going back and reading the others. I respect what Mr. Nerburn is doing. He is doing very important work and I am so glad I ran across this book in my list of possible interests.
December 22, 2021
The third book of the trilogy and it’s the best. Dreams carry messages. For someone who is such a voice and an advocate for Native Americans Nerburn is quite inattentive in his relationships with the elders. He shows up a week after Mary, the Ojibwe elder who had given him some insight into Dan’s sister, Yellow Bird has died. Mary though left detailed instructions with her granddaughter and a letter for Dan in case Nerburn returned.
Thus starts another road trip through Minnesota and the Dakotas. It’s an emotional and spiritual journey for Nerburn and Dan with some come to Jesus moments as well as the recognition of goodness and power that was hiding in plain view. It’s funny and poignant. We meet an Ojibwe shaman, Benais, as well as numerous animals and rocks that speak. Quite a journey that captures the conflict of having two worlds living inside of you.
It’s a real shame these books don’t have the cachet that Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee has. Powerful and insightful. Five stars.
Thus starts another road trip through Minnesota and the Dakotas. It’s an emotional and spiritual journey for Nerburn and Dan with some come to Jesus moments as well as the recognition of goodness and power that was hiding in plain view. It’s funny and poignant. We meet an Ojibwe shaman, Benais, as well as numerous animals and rocks that speak. Quite a journey that captures the conflict of having two worlds living inside of you.
It’s a real shame these books don’t have the cachet that Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee has. Powerful and insightful. Five stars.
November 9, 2020
I was feeling apprehensive about reading the last book in this trilogy. The summary makes no mention of Lakota elder, Dan, who we come to know, love, and appreciate in the first two books. The summary also sounds mysteriously trippy so I'll give it a try.
When a recurring dream involving Yellow Bird and Mary, both introduced to us in The Wolf at Twilight, haunts Nerburn to the point of affecting his sleep, he decides to revisit Mary. The message Mary has for Nerburn sets him on yet another ride with his Lakota friends, Dan, Grover, and Jumbo. This time, however, the spiritual world takes the reins and sends the crew on an enchanting adventure.
I enjoyed this one as much or more than book two.
When a recurring dream involving Yellow Bird and Mary, both introduced to us in The Wolf at Twilight, haunts Nerburn to the point of affecting his sleep, he decides to revisit Mary. The message Mary has for Nerburn sets him on yet another ride with his Lakota friends, Dan, Grover, and Jumbo. This time, however, the spiritual world takes the reins and sends the crew on an enchanting adventure.
I enjoyed this one as much or more than book two.
February 24, 2015
Preliminary notes on terminology...
1. The Lakota, like many nations of the Great Plains and mountain West, have in their language the word, wasichu, generally translated as, "white man." The word is actually a bit more general than that, however, referring to anyone associated with the European-derived culture that was brought to the Americas in the massive invasion that began with Columbus. I will use the term wasichu in this review so as to avoid any unintended implication of a primary focus on race or gender.
2. Author Kent Nerburn is referred to by all in his books simply as, "Nerburn." l will therefore refer to him in the same manner here, hoping it is clear that I intend no disrespect.
-----------------------------------------
Is there any meaningful difference between dream and reality? What does it mean to know a person or a place? Is such knowledge even possible, and if it is, is it attained through patience over the course of years, or does it flash into existence full-formed in a moment of recognition? Has the world so changed that teachings of the ancestors are forever lost, or have language and custom simply blinded us to truths that still surround us, and closed off our ears to voices that are still speaking? Is truth defined by science, and if so, who defines, "science?"
These are a few of the many questions Nerburn raises in his journey through a shadowy world of deliberately buried history and barely-remembered lessons passed down through many generations, and he raises them beautifully. Throughout the story, he tells us of his constant struggle to understand and shares the moments during which his lack of understanding is ridiculed. Quietly, though, Nerburn is suggesting something far more subtle than simply a personal struggle to sort out truth from illusion: the possibility that what we know as "understanding" is in fact the greatest illusion of all.
As in his previous, Neither Wolf nor Dog and The Wolf at Twilight, Nerburn's story centers on a Lakota elder he refers to as Dan. Nerburn's love for Dan provides the story's core of warmth, but it is Nerburn's frequent sparring with Dan's friend, the more combative and sarcastic Grover, that illuminates many of the central themes of the narrative. One of these, arguably the most important for wasichu readers, is that ancient Native Americans were not merely practitioners of deeply mysterious and inspiring religions, but also scientists who, through lifelong training, developed remarkable abilities to interact with the universe in ways that seem at least strange, if not outright impossible, to the wasichu mind. Dan himself raises an excellent point: Why does the wasichu world send only social workers and anthropologists to "the rez?" Why not biologists, physicists, and chemists, who could learn much from ancient, as he terms it, Indian science? Casting the gulf of misunderstanding that has so often separated wasichu and Native peoples as a lack of scientific cooperation is a bold departure from the mainstream view, and an enlightening one. I would argue it is the most important aspect of this very compelling and beautiful story.
And yet, I disagree with both Dan and Grover on one point. I do not believe the source of that misunderstanding is simply wasichu ignorance of Indian science. I believe the lack of any deep scientific knowledge on the part of so many wasichus who have spent time with Native peoples is the greater problem. For if one has received training in modern wasichu scientific theories like quantum physics, one knows of phenomena so contrary to the readily visible workings of the world that they have names like, "spooky action." That is, one would come face to face with the limits of human understanding, with the role of mystery in learning. A mind so trained would be far better equipped to ponder the implications of a young girl who seems able to control an entire herd of bison with a song. In short, Nerburn has brought to light the ancient truth that the road to knowledge of others passes first through knowledge of self. No one of any culture will ever outgrow the need to be reminded of that.
The central dilemma for me remains this: Nerburn sees himself as one trying to "build a bridge" between cultures, and indeed many critics have described his works as an attempt to "bridge the gap" between very different cultures and ways of knowing. But Grover and his friends would be quick to point out that Indians don't need bridges. Crossing over the gap may be only one more way we are blinded to the truths we would encounter by journeying through its depths. Nerburn's way is an important way, a step that needed to be taken. But we cannot delude ourselves into thinking that bridges will lead us to where we need to go.
So, what really happened? Did Nerburn witness a revealing of deep and ancient powers that few, if any, wasichus have ever witnessed? Is the desire to believe so strong that people will always find evidence of their hopes and dreams becoming real? Or was Nerburn the unwitting victim of an incredibly elaborate hoax, brilliantly executed by the enigmatic Grover and his cohorts?
Ask all these questions, and then ask yourself why you are asking them, and thus discover that what this book really does is simply point us in the direction of that one branch that was perhaps broken off on purpose by those who passed before us, that we might see the faintest suggestion of a path toward greater truth.
Nerburn has done good things. How many of us will have the courage to go further?
1. The Lakota, like many nations of the Great Plains and mountain West, have in their language the word, wasichu, generally translated as, "white man." The word is actually a bit more general than that, however, referring to anyone associated with the European-derived culture that was brought to the Americas in the massive invasion that began with Columbus. I will use the term wasichu in this review so as to avoid any unintended implication of a primary focus on race or gender.
2. Author Kent Nerburn is referred to by all in his books simply as, "Nerburn." l will therefore refer to him in the same manner here, hoping it is clear that I intend no disrespect.
-----------------------------------------
Is there any meaningful difference between dream and reality? What does it mean to know a person or a place? Is such knowledge even possible, and if it is, is it attained through patience over the course of years, or does it flash into existence full-formed in a moment of recognition? Has the world so changed that teachings of the ancestors are forever lost, or have language and custom simply blinded us to truths that still surround us, and closed off our ears to voices that are still speaking? Is truth defined by science, and if so, who defines, "science?"
These are a few of the many questions Nerburn raises in his journey through a shadowy world of deliberately buried history and barely-remembered lessons passed down through many generations, and he raises them beautifully. Throughout the story, he tells us of his constant struggle to understand and shares the moments during which his lack of understanding is ridiculed. Quietly, though, Nerburn is suggesting something far more subtle than simply a personal struggle to sort out truth from illusion: the possibility that what we know as "understanding" is in fact the greatest illusion of all.
As in his previous, Neither Wolf nor Dog and The Wolf at Twilight, Nerburn's story centers on a Lakota elder he refers to as Dan. Nerburn's love for Dan provides the story's core of warmth, but it is Nerburn's frequent sparring with Dan's friend, the more combative and sarcastic Grover, that illuminates many of the central themes of the narrative. One of these, arguably the most important for wasichu readers, is that ancient Native Americans were not merely practitioners of deeply mysterious and inspiring religions, but also scientists who, through lifelong training, developed remarkable abilities to interact with the universe in ways that seem at least strange, if not outright impossible, to the wasichu mind. Dan himself raises an excellent point: Why does the wasichu world send only social workers and anthropologists to "the rez?" Why not biologists, physicists, and chemists, who could learn much from ancient, as he terms it, Indian science? Casting the gulf of misunderstanding that has so often separated wasichu and Native peoples as a lack of scientific cooperation is a bold departure from the mainstream view, and an enlightening one. I would argue it is the most important aspect of this very compelling and beautiful story.
And yet, I disagree with both Dan and Grover on one point. I do not believe the source of that misunderstanding is simply wasichu ignorance of Indian science. I believe the lack of any deep scientific knowledge on the part of so many wasichus who have spent time with Native peoples is the greater problem. For if one has received training in modern wasichu scientific theories like quantum physics, one knows of phenomena so contrary to the readily visible workings of the world that they have names like, "spooky action." That is, one would come face to face with the limits of human understanding, with the role of mystery in learning. A mind so trained would be far better equipped to ponder the implications of a young girl who seems able to control an entire herd of bison with a song. In short, Nerburn has brought to light the ancient truth that the road to knowledge of others passes first through knowledge of self. No one of any culture will ever outgrow the need to be reminded of that.
The central dilemma for me remains this: Nerburn sees himself as one trying to "build a bridge" between cultures, and indeed many critics have described his works as an attempt to "bridge the gap" between very different cultures and ways of knowing. But Grover and his friends would be quick to point out that Indians don't need bridges. Crossing over the gap may be only one more way we are blinded to the truths we would encounter by journeying through its depths. Nerburn's way is an important way, a step that needed to be taken. But we cannot delude ourselves into thinking that bridges will lead us to where we need to go.
So, what really happened? Did Nerburn witness a revealing of deep and ancient powers that few, if any, wasichus have ever witnessed? Is the desire to believe so strong that people will always find evidence of their hopes and dreams becoming real? Or was Nerburn the unwitting victim of an incredibly elaborate hoax, brilliantly executed by the enigmatic Grover and his cohorts?
Ask all these questions, and then ask yourself why you are asking them, and thus discover that what this book really does is simply point us in the direction of that one branch that was perhaps broken off on purpose by those who passed before us, that we might see the faintest suggestion of a path toward greater truth.
Nerburn has done good things. How many of us will have the courage to go further?
March 16, 2025
I didn't care for this one. I picked this one up after enjoying this author's Neither Wolf nor Dog: On Forgotten Roads with an Indian Elder. I think I was looking for some of that here.
This one had a "forced" feel to it. What might have contributed to that feel was the horrenedously long monologues. Really! Pages on end. Ugh. That kind of explaining and pedestal standing is NEVER my favorite. I couldn't wait for this one to be over.
I did add a star for the people I liked. However, the 'everything else' didn't really work for me.
This one had a "forced" feel to it. What might have contributed to that feel was the horrenedously long monologues. Really! Pages on end. Ugh. That kind of explaining and pedestal standing is NEVER my favorite. I couldn't wait for this one to be over.
I did add a star for the people I liked. However, the 'everything else' didn't really work for me.
December 10, 2023
Breath taking…..the indigenous people have a friend that cares to share not their words …..
I could not get enough of the roller coaster story ride Zi, Festus the fortunate stray and Donnie and Angie parents to Zi and Jumbo a good soul…
Loved this book !!! N
I could not get enough of the roller coaster story ride Zi, Festus the fortunate stray and Donnie and Angie parents to Zi and Jumbo a good soul…
Loved this book !!! N
December 12, 2021
I have a deep appreciation of all the people Nerburn had the privilege to meet. This, by far, was my favorite in the trilogy. I didn’t want the book to end!
December 22, 2024
If I could give this book a million/5 I would. What a fantastic story that holds invaluable lessons.
January 4, 2014
I absolutely loved this book. Kent Nerbern is such a talented writer, I want to re-read his other books again.
January 15, 2015
The best book I've read in a long time!
October 26, 2022
Third of the trilogy which Kent Nerburn wrote about the American Indians...he was called by an Indian Elder to write down his philosophy and memories of Indian culture before the white man came and how it all evolved. The three books are all one story, involving the above and the search for traces of the elder's little sister who was kidnapped by the whites to be placed in a boarding school as a small child. This happened often, the government wanted the children to have their culture ripped out of them so they would grow up living the "white' way. These three books taught me something I never knew...mainly the pain and suffering caused to the Indian nations by the arrival of the white man. Strong, sensitive, humorous, historic, beautiful, philosophical, touching, page turners...all the good adjectives I can think of for this Trilogy. Kent Nerburn: You are an incredible writer! You are incredible in how you frame Dan's stories. Thank you for writing these incredible books...I am honestly THANKFUL that I had a chance to read them and listen to the audio, and read them again and underline so many beautiful passages.
October 3, 2025
Great finish to a really good series! Third and final book in Neither Wolf Nor Dog series by Kent Nerburn. Once again, Kent is drawn back to the reservation to help Elder Dan bring his search for truth regarding his little sister, Yellowbird. Indian boarding school in Canton SD (now closed, thank God) holds the secrets of what happened and where she was finally put to rest. No sex, no violence, no action, no drama; just fabulous writing on a subject I’ve always been very interested in.
June 3, 2020
Easily one of the best books I’ve ever read. I devoured it in a few days and didn’t want it to come to an end. The combination of the weight of the story, the deep roots it ties to Native American culture, the way it was told, and the underlying lessons it teaches - it’s so well done! I recommend reading it without too much research into the plot, just let it unfold for you.
July 30, 2025
Another beautiful insight into the Native American culture. I enjoyed listening to this, while equally appalled by how these people were treated.
August 4, 2025
This book was very good about such a sad time.
September 28, 2025
With passages that parallel the white mindset and traditions with the native mindset and traditions, this book series has helped me develop new perspectives and respect for the people who lived on this soil before whites arrived. This is the third book in the series. I’ll read more books by Kent Nerburn.
March 15, 2017
Fascinating look into Native American spiritualism - and the horrific time when children were removed from their families and taken to "special schools" where they were stripped of their heritage in the name of "civilization." Fact? or Fiction? Or probably some of both. A beautifully woven story with memorable and strong characters walks on the fringes of dreams. Where does truth start and the dream begin? It most likely doesn't matter. The power of the story is culpable, and stays with you long after you close the book.
September 18, 2023
I loved this. Sometimes we need a good eye opener especially in our days of technology and modern medicine. We tend to get detached from reality.
September 20, 2020
An amazing journey, from start to finish. I am grateful for the stories that were entrusted to Nerburn, and that they are available to everyone.
October 21, 2021
These three books changed my life. I’m deeper into an open mind on things than I was before along with a deeper understanding of the First Nation people and what they had at their disposal and how they communed with the world. Long before the Euros
They need to be read sequentially
They need to be read sequentially
Displaying 1 - 30 of 245 reviews