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Night Sky, Morning Star
At the Indian artisans show in Santa Clara Pueblo, Cecelia Bluespruce sits with her wares in the middle of a row of booths—a good place to catch buyers. She is a successful Native American artist, a sculptor and potter of renown. But Cecelia is in the middle of something deeper than an art show, for she has become trapped by dreams and shadows of her past.
Night Sky, Morning Star is a story of remembrance and reconciliation in one Native American family separated by time and chance. Cecelia’s grown son, Jude, now wants to learn about the father he has never known. Political activist Julian Morning Star, imprisoned twenty years for a crime he did not commit, is unaware that his son even exists. Troubled by dreams, lies, and denial of the past, Cecelia is guided toward wholeness by family and friends who have their own pasts to confront.
This compelling novel plunges readers into the hubbub of the Indian arts market and into the grim reality of prison life. Evelina Zuni Lucero introduces us to experiences we may find diverse Native American traditions, life on a BIA Indian agency compound, the making of an Indian activist. But she also reintroduces us to two things we all live the power of story and the power of love.
Night Sky, Morning Star is the fiction winner of the 1999 First Book Awards competition of the Native Writers’ Circle of the Americas.
Night Sky, Morning Star is a story of remembrance and reconciliation in one Native American family separated by time and chance. Cecelia’s grown son, Jude, now wants to learn about the father he has never known. Political activist Julian Morning Star, imprisoned twenty years for a crime he did not commit, is unaware that his son even exists. Troubled by dreams, lies, and denial of the past, Cecelia is guided toward wholeness by family and friends who have their own pasts to confront.
This compelling novel plunges readers into the hubbub of the Indian arts market and into the grim reality of prison life. Evelina Zuni Lucero introduces us to experiences we may find diverse Native American traditions, life on a BIA Indian agency compound, the making of an Indian activist. But she also reintroduces us to two things we all live the power of story and the power of love.
Night Sky, Morning Star is the fiction winner of the 1999 First Book Awards competition of the Native Writers’ Circle of the Americas.
229 pages, Paperback
First published July 1, 2000
2 people are currently reading
85 people want to read
About the author
Evelina Zuni Lucero
3 books5 followersEvelina Zuni Lucero, Isleta/San Juan Pueblo, is a fiction writer, born in Albuquerque, New Mexico. She spent the first eight years of her life at Isleta Pueblo before her family moved to Ignacio, Colorado, and then later to Stewart, Nevada, both BIA Indian agencies with boarding schools, where her father was superintendent.
She grew up during the turbulent years of the Vietnam War with its accompanying political protests, the Civil Rights movement, the hippie movement, the women’s movement, and American Indian Movement, all of which affected her life in some way. She graduated from Carson City High School in 1971, and was accepted to Stanford University in Palo Alto, California, in the second year of the university’s Native American program. At Stanford, she majored in journalism and also took courses in American literature and creative writing. After graduation, she returned to Isleta Pueblo, and worked as a journalist for a number of years, writing for tribal and national Indian news publications. She later earned a masters degree in English within the creative writing program at the University of New Mexico, where she worked with New Mexican writer, Rudolfo Anaya, and the late Choctaw/Cherokee novelist and Native American literary critic, Louis Owens.
As a writer, Lucero draws on her background and journalism skills, researching, observing, and searching for stories everywhere. Her first book set in the Southwest, including the Stewart boarding school campus, deals with issues of historical trauma Indian people have dealt with for over 500 years, and the unresolved pasts that go hand in hand with the trauma. The characters, a Native political activist jailed for a crime he did not commit, and a Pueblo potter, illustrate the unresolved pasts shoved into the closet and not dealt with.
Her short fiction has appeared in various journals and anthologies, such as Blue Mesa Review, Northeast Indian Quarterly, Returning the Gift Anthology, Women on Hunting, Naive Roots & Rhythms, and Native Peoples Magazine.
She lives in Isleta Pueblo with her family, and is working on a second novel on Indian gaming which incorporates historical imagination, political observations, and elements of mythical realism.
She grew up during the turbulent years of the Vietnam War with its accompanying political protests, the Civil Rights movement, the hippie movement, the women’s movement, and American Indian Movement, all of which affected her life in some way. She graduated from Carson City High School in 1971, and was accepted to Stanford University in Palo Alto, California, in the second year of the university’s Native American program. At Stanford, she majored in journalism and also took courses in American literature and creative writing. After graduation, she returned to Isleta Pueblo, and worked as a journalist for a number of years, writing for tribal and national Indian news publications. She later earned a masters degree in English within the creative writing program at the University of New Mexico, where she worked with New Mexican writer, Rudolfo Anaya, and the late Choctaw/Cherokee novelist and Native American literary critic, Louis Owens.
As a writer, Lucero draws on her background and journalism skills, researching, observing, and searching for stories everywhere. Her first book set in the Southwest, including the Stewart boarding school campus, deals with issues of historical trauma Indian people have dealt with for over 500 years, and the unresolved pasts that go hand in hand with the trauma. The characters, a Native political activist jailed for a crime he did not commit, and a Pueblo potter, illustrate the unresolved pasts shoved into the closet and not dealt with.
Her short fiction has appeared in various journals and anthologies, such as Blue Mesa Review, Northeast Indian Quarterly, Returning the Gift Anthology, Women on Hunting, Naive Roots & Rhythms, and Native Peoples Magazine.
She lives in Isleta Pueblo with her family, and is working on a second novel on Indian gaming which incorporates historical imagination, political observations, and elements of mythical realism.
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Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews
May 12, 2018
~ A Book with a Time of Day in the Title
“Night Sky, Morning Star”
This was my second foray into Native American literature and part of me wonders why bother reading anything else. I have found books in this genre to be vibrant and complex and full of perspectives for me to mull over in my head. Cecelia is an artist and single mother; neither her grown son nor his father know of one another’s existence. But that is soon to change. From the complexities of tribal familial relations to the American Indian Movement to a love that survives the passage of time, this book was a wonderful story of Native American and universal experiences, and well told by the author to boot. I highly recommend.
“Night Sky, Morning Star”
This was my second foray into Native American literature and part of me wonders why bother reading anything else. I have found books in this genre to be vibrant and complex and full of perspectives for me to mull over in my head. Cecelia is an artist and single mother; neither her grown son nor his father know of one another’s existence. But that is soon to change. From the complexities of tribal familial relations to the American Indian Movement to a love that survives the passage of time, this book was a wonderful story of Native American and universal experiences, and well told by the author to boot. I highly recommend.
May 25, 2019
So readable that it feels plain and uninteresting. None of the characters feel real, and there is no plot to speak of, or at least there's no tangible progression to it. It certainly doesn't help that the resolution happens off-page. The only bits that got my attention were one character's casually homophobic remarks, and not in a good way - just don't use "fag" and the like if you're not gonna bother unpacking it.
October 4, 2010
In response to questions posed in the class for which I read this:
Just reading this sound bite by Evelina Lecero, I would agree that her novel echoes Leonard Peltier’s autobiography in which he compares all Native Americans to prisoners. After reading the novel for myself, I would agree that Lecero’s characters are used to “illustrate the unresolved pasts” but I don’t see evidence of the comparison. There were some similarities between Julian and Peltier; both were active in AIM, both were imprisoned for murders they allegedly didn’t commit, and both took it upon themselves to secure religious rights granted to those in prison. In Julian’s case this consisted of the rights to have long hair, sweat lodge visits, and spiritual advisors (p.43). One statement in particular could have been lifted from Peltier, “Even with the flagrant violation of my rights, I figured I had nothing to fear. I truly was innocent” (p. 156). Finally, Julian states, “Prison can be a state of mind, you know, as well as a physical place of confinement and punishment” (p. 161). He says he works hard not to let that happen as I believe most of Lucero’s characters do as well.
In regards to Lucero’s statement about unresolved pasts, there clearly were many instances in this novel from the seemingly mundane (Julian dating Francine to make Cecelia jealous) to life-changing (Cecelia keeping Jude’s existence from Julian), however most of the instances could have happened to anyone and didn’t need to be in the context of Native America to still hold true.
Cecelia’s statement about pregnancy is equivalent to one in the essay “The Genocide of a Generation’s Identity” in Genocide of the Mind when Gabriel Horn’s uncle responds to Gabriel’s claim that he was half Indian: “Our People do not come in percent of blood. Our People do not come in parts. You can’t be part this, part that. You either are Indian or you are not Indian at all” (p.73). Cecelia is saying that if you’re Indian, you’re Indian; if you’re not, you’re not.
Authenticity is defined by Lucero in many different forms throughout her novel. The following’s an example that addresses authenticity and Cecelia’s quote about “Indianness”. Drew, for instance, was not Indian though he desperately tried to be by claiming his Grandmother’s heritage and by wearing his hair in a (short) ponytail. Clyde, as a comparison, was Indian, 100 percent in fact, but though he had the blood, he didn’t capture the essence. For example, he prided himself on his wrapped hair which made his short hair appear longer. Perhaps he was concerned with appearances and people mistaking him for not being an Indian because he grew up in Reno, Nevada instead of on either of his parent’s reservations and was compensating (p. 52). Julian, as a third comparison, was Indian. He felt Indian. In a flashback he’s lying on the ground at the Steward Indian School and states, “We knew that the land we were on . . . was Indian land. There were voices all around us, in the land, in the blood soaked into the land that cried out for justice, in the trees and rock structures” (p. 40).
Lucero’s character, Cecelia, states at the end of the novel that “There’s freedom in forgiveness.” I believe that on a very surface level, she’s forgiving the guards who are staring her down and the institution surrounded by concrete and barbed wire. She knows that hating the institution that’s housing Julian and the individuals behind it, won’t allow her to live in the present. On a deeper level, I think Lecero chose Cecelia to utter this statement, as a representative to the other characters and instances in the story; Cecelia forgave herself for not telling Jude about Julian. Jude forgave Cecelia for not telling him about Julian. Julian forgave the “white man” by accepting Peggy and his doctor. Marli forgave Browning for his infidelity and found love with Rupert. Reena forgave Guy to find love with Buckley. Cecelia and Julian both forgive themselves for not declaring their love for each other to Herman and Julia. Forgiveness is a part of life and a part of what it means to be Native American.
Each character had to come to this realization before they could successfully move on. I enjoyed the novel and at times forgot it was fiction. I’ve read many books that didn’t merit the award(s) they received, but this one earned it. I liked the way she weaved the story through the eyes of different characters and how we learned things about them that they didn’t (wouldn’t?) state themselves. In that capacity, I thought it was very real and true to real life. Speaking of real life, many events that occurred could have happened to any one of any culture which leant the novel a universal appeal. Who among us hasn’t know someone who’s been cheated on, who’s died before their time, who’s dated someone to make another jealous, who’s miscarried a baby, or who’s lost their work due to one of those damn floppy disks?!
Some of my favorite quotes or wisdom from the novel:
“Know the value of what you have.” p. 136
It was pure foolishness; no, it was downright stupid to carry on over a man who wasn’t worth the trouble it took to keep him. p. 137
One thing I’ve learned is that nothing happens in isolation. Everything is interconnected.
Just reading this sound bite by Evelina Lecero, I would agree that her novel echoes Leonard Peltier’s autobiography in which he compares all Native Americans to prisoners. After reading the novel for myself, I would agree that Lecero’s characters are used to “illustrate the unresolved pasts” but I don’t see evidence of the comparison. There were some similarities between Julian and Peltier; both were active in AIM, both were imprisoned for murders they allegedly didn’t commit, and both took it upon themselves to secure religious rights granted to those in prison. In Julian’s case this consisted of the rights to have long hair, sweat lodge visits, and spiritual advisors (p.43). One statement in particular could have been lifted from Peltier, “Even with the flagrant violation of my rights, I figured I had nothing to fear. I truly was innocent” (p. 156). Finally, Julian states, “Prison can be a state of mind, you know, as well as a physical place of confinement and punishment” (p. 161). He says he works hard not to let that happen as I believe most of Lucero’s characters do as well.
In regards to Lucero’s statement about unresolved pasts, there clearly were many instances in this novel from the seemingly mundane (Julian dating Francine to make Cecelia jealous) to life-changing (Cecelia keeping Jude’s existence from Julian), however most of the instances could have happened to anyone and didn’t need to be in the context of Native America to still hold true.
Cecelia’s statement about pregnancy is equivalent to one in the essay “The Genocide of a Generation’s Identity” in Genocide of the Mind when Gabriel Horn’s uncle responds to Gabriel’s claim that he was half Indian: “Our People do not come in percent of blood. Our People do not come in parts. You can’t be part this, part that. You either are Indian or you are not Indian at all” (p.73). Cecelia is saying that if you’re Indian, you’re Indian; if you’re not, you’re not.
Authenticity is defined by Lucero in many different forms throughout her novel. The following’s an example that addresses authenticity and Cecelia’s quote about “Indianness”. Drew, for instance, was not Indian though he desperately tried to be by claiming his Grandmother’s heritage and by wearing his hair in a (short) ponytail. Clyde, as a comparison, was Indian, 100 percent in fact, but though he had the blood, he didn’t capture the essence. For example, he prided himself on his wrapped hair which made his short hair appear longer. Perhaps he was concerned with appearances and people mistaking him for not being an Indian because he grew up in Reno, Nevada instead of on either of his parent’s reservations and was compensating (p. 52). Julian, as a third comparison, was Indian. He felt Indian. In a flashback he’s lying on the ground at the Steward Indian School and states, “We knew that the land we were on . . . was Indian land. There were voices all around us, in the land, in the blood soaked into the land that cried out for justice, in the trees and rock structures” (p. 40).
Lucero’s character, Cecelia, states at the end of the novel that “There’s freedom in forgiveness.” I believe that on a very surface level, she’s forgiving the guards who are staring her down and the institution surrounded by concrete and barbed wire. She knows that hating the institution that’s housing Julian and the individuals behind it, won’t allow her to live in the present. On a deeper level, I think Lecero chose Cecelia to utter this statement, as a representative to the other characters and instances in the story; Cecelia forgave herself for not telling Jude about Julian. Jude forgave Cecelia for not telling him about Julian. Julian forgave the “white man” by accepting Peggy and his doctor. Marli forgave Browning for his infidelity and found love with Rupert. Reena forgave Guy to find love with Buckley. Cecelia and Julian both forgive themselves for not declaring their love for each other to Herman and Julia. Forgiveness is a part of life and a part of what it means to be Native American.
Each character had to come to this realization before they could successfully move on. I enjoyed the novel and at times forgot it was fiction. I’ve read many books that didn’t merit the award(s) they received, but this one earned it. I liked the way she weaved the story through the eyes of different characters and how we learned things about them that they didn’t (wouldn’t?) state themselves. In that capacity, I thought it was very real and true to real life. Speaking of real life, many events that occurred could have happened to any one of any culture which leant the novel a universal appeal. Who among us hasn’t know someone who’s been cheated on, who’s died before their time, who’s dated someone to make another jealous, who’s miscarried a baby, or who’s lost their work due to one of those damn floppy disks?!
Some of my favorite quotes or wisdom from the novel:
“Know the value of what you have.” p. 136
It was pure foolishness; no, it was downright stupid to carry on over a man who wasn’t worth the trouble it took to keep him. p. 137
One thing I’ve learned is that nothing happens in isolation. Everything is interconnected.
September 3, 2016
Night Sky, Morning Star follows Cecelia Bluespruce, an American Indian artist that has become highly successful. She has a son, Jude, that she has done her best to raise but she has been a single mother his entire life. As Jude grows older he begins to demand to know more about his father--he is certain that Cecelia knows more than she wants to share. This leads to a series of flashbacks in which Cecelia must face her past. In particular, she must eventually tell Jude about Julian, his father. It is eventually explained that Julian did not meet his son because he was incarcerated (which speaks to the high incarceration rates of American Indian men for crimes that otherwise receive minimal sentencing for non-Native individuals). Once Cecelia tells her son about his father, she feels better and their mother-son relationship is strengthened. Furthermore, Cecelia eventually begins speaking to Julian again, and tells him how their lives have both been changed by Jude.
Female identity is discussed throughout the novel: how is the female body sacred, what is womanhood, how does one mother, what is good mothering or maternal authority, when do mothers protect their children and when do they let them know the truth, etc.
There are also interesting intersections of the traditional past and the contemporary. Cecelia is an artist, who must sale her wares in order to make money. However, she is also concerned about individuals buying her pottery (which has part of her soul put into it) and just taking it and reselling it but never really caring about it. This is an interesting dilemma for Cecelia as an American Indian artist (see also: American Indian Arts and Crafts Act of 1990). Furthermore, she remembers, recalls, and lives some of the traditions that have been passed on to her from her own family. Her son, Jude, has received a western education and due to this seems, at times, distant from his American Indian identity--which leads to the question: how does one determine their own identity?
If you want to study this novel in depth, I suggest reading Thomas Holm's article on the Peoplehood Matrix--it helps to connect the four main components of different American Indian cosmologies (they all vary): place, sacred history, ceremony, and language. All of these elements are present in this novel.
A wonderful novel. I found it to be a pleasurable read. There are some great poetic moments. Others have said that some moments are cliche--and while I agree to an extent, there are some twists on contemporary cliches that are definitely worth a glance. Definitely read this if you're interested in American Indian contemporary literature.
Female identity is discussed throughout the novel: how is the female body sacred, what is womanhood, how does one mother, what is good mothering or maternal authority, when do mothers protect their children and when do they let them know the truth, etc.
There are also interesting intersections of the traditional past and the contemporary. Cecelia is an artist, who must sale her wares in order to make money. However, she is also concerned about individuals buying her pottery (which has part of her soul put into it) and just taking it and reselling it but never really caring about it. This is an interesting dilemma for Cecelia as an American Indian artist (see also: American Indian Arts and Crafts Act of 1990). Furthermore, she remembers, recalls, and lives some of the traditions that have been passed on to her from her own family. Her son, Jude, has received a western education and due to this seems, at times, distant from his American Indian identity--which leads to the question: how does one determine their own identity?
If you want to study this novel in depth, I suggest reading Thomas Holm's article on the Peoplehood Matrix--it helps to connect the four main components of different American Indian cosmologies (they all vary): place, sacred history, ceremony, and language. All of these elements are present in this novel.
A wonderful novel. I found it to be a pleasurable read. There are some great poetic moments. Others have said that some moments are cliche--and while I agree to an extent, there are some twists on contemporary cliches that are definitely worth a glance. Definitely read this if you're interested in American Indian contemporary literature.
August 17, 2010
This is one assigned to my students for their summer reading, and I'll be honest in saying I didn't particularly love it. Though there are moments of lyricism in Lucero's prose, they are lost to overly complex yet cliche description. Many characters with multiple connections further convolute the story line. I anticipate struggles with this reading as I had to really push myself to finish it.
August 30, 2007
The narrative flow of this book impressed me. The author weaves easily between the past and present, making them into a uniform story about characters the reader cares about.
November 29, 2014
I really liked it. The story reminded me a little of Jimmy Santiago Baca's memoir. I would like to read more by this author.
Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews