"White people--everything talked to pieces until all the pieces had numbers. 'I get wolves,' Enuk would have said, 'back by mountains.' It would have been someone else's duty to fill in the story and any heroism."
"...Takunak, a speck in the wilderness, modern as microwaves, yet hissing with voices from a brand-new ten-thousand-year-old past: Kill every animal possible, every fur. Share. Avoid taboos. Don't get ahead. Never stand out. Live now. Takunak: generous and jealous, petty and cruel and somehow owning us; owning our decisions; calling us home to assassinate our ambitions. How strange my past, even farther back into the earth--the caribou skin entrance, flickering lamplight, dreams and the conviction to hunt the land for them..."
Such is the gritty and complicated reality of Alaska narrated by a white boy named Cutuk Hawckly from the rural NW Arctic in this novel. The book paints unsparing portraits of colonized and quickly-modernized Native village life--including, importantly, the kinds of half-glimpses that a young person might realistically get of the boarding school history and other reasons behind the problems so prevalent today. It also paints incredibly insightful and incisive portraits of modern consumeristic culture and of white Alaskan culture and anti-Native racism (as well as Native-worshipping white people). Some of the most devastating scenes that made me squirm were of white sport hunters from Anchorage and Fairbanks. But so uncomfortable too were the scenes of boys in the village drinking hairspray and Lysol, young girls getting pregnant. And observing it all, participating in parts of it from fear and insecurity, this white boy who constantly pushes down his nose to look Eskimo, to will himself into becoming Iñupiaq, who loves his family and loves the land, who desperately wants friends and acceptance and a purpose in life.
Perhaps most startling about this book was how it made me experience my own city. Cutuk, having never left the very rural Northwest Arctic, Cutuk who had to travel 2 days on dog sled to get to the village from the sod igloo he shared with his family, Cutuk arrives first in Kotzebue and then Anchorage. Running down the slushy snow in his winter muluks and soaking them through, trying to trap a lynx to eat where he is camped by the railroad tracks, wandering around Anchorage confused by cars and where all these white people are in such a hurry to go to, later navigating the social dynamic of car mechanics and astounded by how rude and stupid these white men are, confused as to why anyone would buy a dog in a mall...it's a fascinating view of my city, urban culture, etc. It is an important view for anyone working with youth or families from the villages who arrive in Anchorage disoriented and culture-shocked.
This is a novel of a boy who is stuck "crawling the crevasses in between" the Native Northwest Arctic and the culture he identifies with and yet is excluded from, and the white culture that is supposed to be his but bears no resemblance to his values or way of life. He ultimately finds peace and growth back in his connection to the land, but the troubling social dynamic never disappears. One of the best scenes was of a meeting at the tribal council in the village where outside presenters come to talk about online cultural preservation and grants. They, like so many other well-intentioned but removed people, talk in big words and without connection to the people, and therefore achieve nothing:
"The man glanced around quizzically, shuffled papers, and retreated into a forest of overgrown words and Accountant English. The meeting trailed into whispers and tittering. Back on the metal chairs, we chuckled at the man's pronunciation of Joe Smith's Eskimo name. We heard "my dick." We laughed, not because we were mean, but because laughing was traditional, it was something we were good at, and tonight we still remembered how."
I only wish that the character of Cutuk, and the author, Seth Kantner, could have met and included in the novel Native characters who managed multiple worlds skillfully, who reached back into tradition and worked modern jobs, or non-elder Native folks who were heroes like Enuk. Enuk, the old hunter who Cutuk idolizes, and Janet, the very good and loving mothering character, are not the only such Native men or women. I wished for the sake of showing Alaska's social dynamic that the character could have come across some more healthy and self-actualized Alaska Native individuals, such as the many I know, to show not only a white Hawckly family hybrid, but show that there are many Alaska Native people who have found ways to balance tradition and modernity.