This powerful novel about a woman’s self-discovery reinforces Lee Maracle’s stature as one of the most important First Nations writers in North America. The novel incorporates an innovative structure―one based on Salish Nation storytelling―to depict the transformation of Marilyn, a First Nations woman who is alienated from her culture, her family and herself. By discovering her own culture’s ways and listening to the natural world, Marilyn begins to heal her deep-rooted hurt and gradually becomes reconciled with her estranged daughters. Here is a moving work about First Nations people in the modern world, and the importance of courage, truth and reconciliation.
Born in Vancouver, British Columbia, she grew up in the neighbouring city of North Vancouver and attended Simon Fraser University. She was one of the first Aboriginal people to be published in the early 1970s.
Maracle is one of the most prolific aboriginal authors in Canada and a recognized authority on issues pertaining to aboriginal people and aboriginal literature. She is an award-winning poet, novelist, performance storyteller, scriptwriter, actor and keeper/mythmaker among the Stó:lō people.
Maracle was one of the founders of the En’owkin International School of Writing in Penticton, British Columbia and the cultural director of the Centre for Indigenous Theatre in Toronto, Ontario.
Maracle has given hundreds of speeches on political, historical, and feminist sociological topics related to native people, and conducted dozens of workshops on personal and cultural reclamation. She has served as a consultant on First Nations’ self-government and has an extensive history in community development. She has been described as “a walking history book” and an international expert on Canadian First Nations culture and history.
Maracle has taught at the University of Toronto, University of Waterloo, Southern Oregon University and has served as professor of Canadian culture at Western Washington University. She currently lives in Toronto, teaching at the University of Toronto First Nations House. She most recently was the writer-in-residence at the University of Guelph.
This is a poetic and tremendously sad novel that I appreciated on many levels- it was profoundly emotive and moved me not only on a spiritual level, but also physically in my body. This book should be much wider appreciated and popular than it is, given the quality of writing and storytelling, but given that it is a womanist/Indigenous story that doesn’t skirt around the ongoing, devastating impact of colonialism on Indigenous people, it is what it is; unless we actively choose to prioritize these type of vital stories, they will get largely ignored. The book overall, strengthens my desire to continue reading more books by Indigenous storytellers and I will definitely read stories by Lee Maracle again. Only reason it didn’t get 5 stars was a pacing issue for me and I found the ending abrupt and I was just getting started. I would have read another 500 pages easily on Marilyn and her life. Highly recommend.
This book, about a Sto:lo social worker slowly awakening to her power and coming to understand the impact of colonialism and its brand of patriarchy on her own life, relationships, and history with her now adult daughters is Maracle’s roughest work, IMO. While the book contains all of the lyricism of the way she describes the natural world and our relationship with it through history and today (west wind was a powerful image, and the way she wrote of the silencing of the women was incredible and heart rending), I felt that there was a struggle to distill this into the main character Marilyn’s narrative in a cohesive and poetic way. I think that the bones of a good book are here, but that there were huge editing issues, with many areas needing more exploration and joining to the larger narrative through more than the almost philosophical zoning out of the protagonist. I will say that I’m surprised, as Maracle had already published Ravensong (excellent), and so much non-fiction by 2002, that this book was not nurtured with the love and reverence and encouragement that it deserved from a publisher. I always feel that Maracle, a miracle in her own right, has been relegated to the corner of the room as an Indigenous woman calling out patriarchy as hard as she calls out colonialism. She had a healing vision, and I wish this book had been given what it needed to blossom, but there are still worthwhile seeds here.
Maracle beautifully and intelligently provides insight into the current situations facing Aboriginal peoples in Canada. She handles trauma in a shockingly real and effective way, and offers answers and hope to readers.
This should be a must-read for all people living in Canada.
I didn't like this book as much as Ravensong or Celia's Song, but that doesn't mean it wasn't a good book. Just, those other two novels were masterpieces and the characters in this one didn't move me in the same way. It could be because Marilyn lived in the modern world and I greatly appreciated reading a story that took place on Sto:lo territory.
Maracle's reflection on desire through the perspective of Marilyn was particularly interesting to me. Marilyn thought she yearned for sex and financial success, when she really only needed the love of her daughters. The importance of love always shines through in Maracle's novels, but this one really showed that even the uglier facets of love are valid because they are real and can be explained by looking at an individual's history.
Straight up one of the most boring, trite, pretentious books I’ve ever read. Maracle tries so hard to be poetic that it comes across as rambling. The prose itself reads like the cliched erotica of the era in which this was written. The ideas and conceit of the book are genuinely cool, a female social worker coming to grips with her fears, seeing how her fears isolate her from her family and her feelings and stuff but it’s just written so badly. It feels like a first draft. It’s not hard to read as a result of elevated language, but it was hard to read because it was so tear-jerkingly boring and contrived.