i heard a crow before i was born. i heard tsó:ka’we before i was born.
i heard a crow before i was born opens with a dream-memory that transforms into a stark, poetic reflection on the generational trauma faced by many Indigenous families. Jules Delorme was born to resentful and abusive parents, in a world in which he never felt he belonged. Yet, buoyed by the love shown to him by his tóta (grandmother) and his many animal protectors, Delorme gained the strength to reckon with his brutal childhood and create this transformative and evocative memoir.
Across chapters that tell of his troubled relationships, Delorme unwraps the pain at the centre of his own the residential schools and the aftershocks that continue to reverberate.
In this stunning testament to the power of storytelling — to help us grieve and help us survive — Delorme tells the story of his spirit walk as he embraces the contradictions of his identity. As he writes, “i heard a crow before i was born is a man looking back, and dreaming back, and seeing that life, in whatever form it takes, however harsh it might seem, is beautiful.”
You have to read I HEARD A CROW BEFORE I WAS BORN !!!!
It is a poetic ode of reconciliation, a recollection of painful abuse and suffering and an act of forgiveness, both to the abusers and the self. It is an exploration of connection, to humans, to animals, to the spirit, to the self, it is confrontation and acceptance, it is sadness and it is joy, it is blame and it is forgiveness, it is letters to the dead and a note to self, a reminder that we are capable despite the burdens we carry, it is not one thing, but many, this book is love with all the pain that comes with it.
“all these events and people were not my life were not a life they were things that happened while i was drifting between lives. a real life is not made-up of events but of connections and i ran as fast as i could from connection. i was a shape shifter drifting from one event to another and to the next event and that i told others and myself was a life.”
This memoir left me quietly shaken, in the best and most necessary way. Delorme's opening dream-memory sets a tone that carries through the entire book, poetic, unflinching, and deeply personal, while still gesturing toward something much larger, the generational weight of trauma carried by Indigenous families through residential schools and their long aftermath.
What struck me most was how he balances the brutality of his childhood with the tenderness of his tóta and the animal protectors woven throughout the narrative. That contrast gave the book a sense of survival that never felt sanitized or easy, the pain is real and present, but so is the love that helped him hold onto himself.
The prose style itself, sparse, lyrical, almost incantatory, felt like it was doing something beyond just telling a story, it read more like a spirit walk than a conventional memoir, exactly as Delorme frames it. The closing sentiment, that life is beautiful even in its harshest forms, earns its weight by the time you reach it.
If I have any note, the fragmented, poetic structure occasionally made certain timelines harder to follow. Still, a powerful, necessary testament to storytelling as survival.
This touches on some heavy themes around childhood trauma and abuse. If any of this resonates with you personally, I'm happy to help point you toward support resources.
A great book! Reading it for a class. It has helped me to understand poetry and the use of language, and how authors use a particular form of writing to convey their stories and ideas!
Delorme talks about his abuse, challenges, and struggles he experiences as an indigenous person who is neurodivergent. He displays his relationship with animals, how he is rooted in spiritual life in the middle of chaos.