The River People

by Liz Kellebrew

The River People by Liz Kellebrew is a haunting and lyrical exploration of 19th-century westward expansion into the Pacific Northwest. Through the intertwined journeys of Marilla, John, and Walter—each navigating rivers that serve as both roads and unforgiving forces—the novel weaves together fiction, historical documents, memoir, and poetry. As these characters face hardships and triumphs, their choices and loves reverberate through generations. This book delves into the myths and realities of migration, revealing the harsh lessons the West has to offer. It’s a powerful, evocative story of love, loss, and survival in a land where nature shows no mercy.

Genres: Memoir, History

184 pages, Paperback

Published January 28, 2025

About the author

Liz Kellebrew lives in the Pacific Northwest and writes fiction, poetry, literary essays, and creative nonfiction. Liz won the Miracle Monocle Award for Innovative Writing and she was a finalist for the Calvino Prize. She holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Goddard College.

Reviews

[Laura Gaddis · Rating 5 out of 5]

I went into this book not knowing much about it. I offered to read it for a fellow author who is publishing with a small press. I love the idea of supporting other authors who may not have the large reach of one of the big five publishers. Also, her cover was pretty cool, so I was in from the beginning.

Through the book, we follow the stories of three:

Marilla, who starts as a young girl traveling west across the country with her family during the gold rush era. We know from the opening pages that the stories we are about to enter are going to be difficult and inspiring as we see Marilla and her family witness the loss of her brother.

John, who moves from Ireland to America and heads west. He meets Marilla and marries. His story is also tragic in its own way, yet takes the reader on a journey of hope and love.

Walter, Marilla’s much younger brother, who meets a native woman and, despite finding what could be a peaceful life with her, goes on to lead a tragic life when he decides to search for Yukon gold.

Braided with these narratives are bits of nonfiction and personal reflection from the author herself. Like a glue binding the elements together, these parts help to create a fuller picture of past and present, of reconciling (or the attempt to reconcile) with what happened not only on the land on which she currently lives, but also with her own family history. This unique way of telling a historical story brings the people to life and lets the reader feel as though they are hearing the words of the characters. Connecting past and present can only be done through the art of good storytelling.

The River People is written in a vignette format with each chapter containing bite-sized segments that function to highlight what is important and make the reader swallow each bit before moving on. Taking out the details that didn’t immediately direct the story, Kellebrew made the reading of this flow so easily—just like the river depicted on the cover.

[Bruce M. Vieira · Rating 5 out of 5]

Good read

The format is interesting, follows the form of a diary. The story flows well and I enjoyed it. I recommend it to everyone.

[David Carlson · Rating 5 out of 5]

A very unusual family history told in bits of poetry and larger, but yet bits of prose. It is a little rough, like unmilled timber, and meandering like driftwood.

[Susan Borgersen · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a book with an ever-beating heart. Like a river. Sometimes fragile and fragmented, other times strong, robust, and bursting with love. And with strife. And all points between. It is a story told with elegant prose and lines that make you stop dead: The silence is a sound he can hear in his spine, and read them again. And breathe. That is just one of the multitude of gems in this work of deep emotions, and of taking the reader along on what feels like a personal journey through a lost age.

The format intrigues from the start. Like a a lace maker, Liz Kellebrew draws together these delicate threads that pass back and through time and fibre. Introducing this reader to an unfamiliar part of history. A story of survival, determination, and of joy.

In spite of unimaginable hardships, it is love that shines through. For example, the protagonist, Marilla, takes her young daughter to visit family a two-day horse-back ride away, and there is still a moment of deep pausing for this: She waves a tiny fist, her long fingers curled like new blossoms, and I give her a daisy to grip. She waves and crumples it… I sing to her as we go, wiping yellow pollen from her cheek. She tears off petals, scattering them in our wake.

As the book unfolds, there is an interspersion of memoir as the line: It’s easy to see the past and the future here. All you have to do is blink, demonstrates without doubt.

Kellebrew’s talent and delicate use of language, finding the perfect word each time, shine through on every page. This is a book I will read again, and again, seeking out more of those layers that I know are there.

Fully recommended.

[Yvonne Osborne · Rating 5 out of 5]

In The River People, Liz Kellebrew expertly weaves memoir, poetry, and fiction into a poignant tapestry of events, actual and fictional, that detail America's westward expansion into the Pacific Northwest, ironically “the opposite of the direction in which the world spins.”

This treasure of a book follows the intertwined journeys of three separate individuals in a fictionalized account of Kellebrew’s ancestors' lives. From ancient cures for cholera—hot compresses soaked in whiskey—to making soap from fat and ashes, and cooking grape jam in a kettle on a woodstove, she fills her margins with interesting anecdotes and keen observations The loaded gun; American as apple pie that I found myself underlining in pencil. How the Douglas fir was named by a Scottish botanist hired to catalog newly discovered species, how these formidable pioneers planted their saved corn seed, patting the soil back over each kernel, one at a time—planting the teeth of the sun.

The joy and tragedy of lives well-lived are presented in poetic style, from beginning to end. How age creeps upon us as we are falling asleep. “When had I grown so old?” one of them asks. “Let my ashes be buried at the foot of a tree, mycelia can grow in and out of me to feed the forest.”

This is a captivating account of a migration accomplished by people of curiosity and creativity and a timely reminder of the contributions that immigrants bring to the communal table in a multi-cultural joining of peoples.

Buy it, borrow it, read it. A wee little book rich in content and full of heart.

[Rita · Rating 5 out of 5]

This bookmhas been described as "lyrical", and that is the best word I can think of. Short chapters with poetry and a few modern day comments interspersed, it tells of a family who settled in the Pacific Northwest in the 1850s and glimpses of their lives through the next decades. One error--Ellis Island opened as an immigration center in 1892. John Black would have arrived somewhere else.

[Elizabeth Jaeger · Rating 5 out of 5]

I appreciated this book as a reader and a history teacher. The narrative took you directly into the heart of one family who settled in the Pacific Northwest back in the days of the Oregon Trail. The writing was lyrical and engaging. I highly recommend it, especially for readers who enjoy history.

[TimmieLee56 · Rating 5 out of 5]

In The River People, Liz Kellebrew crafts a haunting and lyrical tale that pulses with the rhythms of water, memory, and transformation. Set along the edges of a river both real and mythic, this unforgettable novel flows through the lives of a community shaped—and sometimes fractured—by the secrets the current keeps. Absolutely recommended, the lyricism is haunting and as full of manifest destiny as one could imagine, and as full of promise to anyone that bravely dares to settle new spaces might risk! A wonderful book!

[Sarah · Rating 1 out of 5]

Readers who enjoy weirdly-structured novels will have the most success. The concept of its structure is interesting, but the execution is terribly flawed: sections from the author's real-life ancestors are included in the form of diary entries and poems, interspersed among fictional sections. Work from both of the nonfiction authors is presented in italics, but it's easy to tell at a glance which is which, as one is always poetry. However, there was no introduction, and any explanation is limited to a single paragraph inside the acknowledgements. More info, placed at the beginning, would have made these much more impactful. All the other types of writing all appear in the same font, unitalicized. Some are fictional diary entries for the same person, some are observations from the author on modern/contemporary times, some are fictional and from the viewpoint of never-identified one-time narrators who are clearly not the author or the ancestors but who are not named. These all are mixed up together and require the reader to sort out who is speaking-- on *every* page. It's exhausting.

While the authentic voices of the diarist and poet could be valuable, publishing their works as NF, alone or with more scholarly commentary, would allow readers better access to the historic content. The fictionalized sections do not add any increased diversity, nor make the content easier to access.

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