Just as a basket's purpose determines its materials, weave, and shape, so too is the purpose of the essay related to its material, weave, and shape. Editors Elissa Washuta and Theresa Warburton ground this anthology of essays by Native writers in the formal art of basket weaving. Using weaving techniques such as coiling and plaiting as organizing themes, the editors have curated an exciting collection of imaginative, world-making lyric essays by twenty-seven contemporary Native writers from tribal nations across Turtle Island into a well-crafted basket.
Shapes of Native Nonfiction features a dynamic combination of established and emerging Native writers, including Stephen Graham Jones, Deborah Miranda, Terese Marie Mailhot, Billy-Ray Belcourt, Eden Robinson, and Kim TallBear. Their ambitious, creative, and visionary work with genre and form demonstrate the slippery, shape-changing possibilities of Native stories. Considered together, they offer responses to broader questions of materiality, orality, spatiality, and temporality that continue to animate the study and practice of distinct Native literary traditions in North America.
Elissa Washuta is a member of the Cowlitz Indian Tribe and a nonfiction writer. She is the author of Starvation Mode and My Body Is a Book of Rules, named a finalist for the Washington State Book Award. With Theresa Warburton, she is co-editor of the anthology Shapes of Native Nonfiction: Collected Essays by Contemporary Writers. She is an assistant professor of creative writing at the Ohio State University.
Read at the direction of my writing mentor Miye Tom, for whom I am endlessly grateful. Through this collection I have discovered some new all-time favorite writers (Elissa Washuta, Billy-Ray Belcourt, Toni Jensen, Laura Da’, and Tiffany Midge). This collection, and Dr. Tom’s belief in my writing abilities, has changed the way I write for the better. Forever. 4.5 stars because, as anthologies often go, some were better than others. But damn, the ones that were so good were SO GOOD. I recommend this to anyone who is curious about exploring lyric essays/creative nonfiction. It is just an incredible collection.
There are people who don't read Indigenous literature or find it difficult to find books by Native authors. I wanted to make more of a conscious effort to pick up books that give voice to these communities, especially after my favorite books of the past two years were by Native authors (There There by Tommy Orange and You Don't Have to Say You Love Me by Sherman Alexie, which I read before allegations against him).
There are 27 essays in this collection by a variety of authors, who I believe are mostly part of Indigenous communities in the U.S. and Canada. The whole point, as described in the introduction, is to play with shape and form in new ways that may draw from traditions such as basket weaving, etc. As such, there are several fragmented essays, somer literary criticism, memoir, elements of poetry, historical events, etymology and discussion of language, etc. Basically, there is A LOT in this relatively short book.
I can't wait to pick up more books by the authors highlighted in this collection and follow their writing in other publications.
Some of these essays 5/5. Some of these essays I cannot parse/not for me.
I was reading through the contributors and want the diversity of voices that are there: all different tribes, all different kinds of writers. And as the editors say in the intro, this moves beyond those basic questions of: what do you need to be to be an authentic Indian and the “we’re still here”, into the how and what now?
Wow, loved this so much. What a range of essays, every piece in this book felt singular. So many different subjects, styles, and particularly structures. I really appreciated the way the book was set up; the editors split the essays into sections based on the way the authors approached them, structurally. It sounds sort of stuffy, but it was the opposite. Reading each essay felt revelatory, like I was being invited to not only really sit with the topic, but with the vessel (as Washuta and Warburton discuss in the introduction), with the particular way the authors chose to weave their words. Highly recommend, I will be sitting with this for a long time.
This book is a work of art. Each essay is a skillful demonstration of each writer’s talent, and the arrangement elevates the whole collection. Framing essay-writing as being like basket weaving, where the craft and art has meaning in and of itself and beyond its function, shows a deep appreciation and understanding of the form. Everyone should study this book.
A wild ride -- each of the voices is so different. Some essays, I couldn't read: too dry or too avant-garde. The rest ranged from good to great to I-want-more. Each one triggers discomfort that we would do well to listen to and learn from.
At times, this anthology was a bit uneven, as anthologies can be. But it was 90% solid, and that’s a high percentage for an anthology. And when it is solid, it’s through the roof! So good.
"But these two men, my father, Al, and grandfather, Tom, could not communicate. Oh, they both spoke English. But they also both spoke the language of pain, and for that very reason, could not speak to each other." - from Tuolumne by Deborah A. Miranda
The intro to this collection compares essay writing to basket weaving - where the style of the weaving is as much a part of the beauty and functionality of the piece as the topic and word choice. While there were elements of the intro regarding literary theory that went over my head, I appreciated the skill and curation of this collection. This is an impressive body of work - I enjoyed the works from authors I knew and found several authors I want to read more from. The scope of topics covered is broad and it was engaging to read through the collection, exploring the different perspectives as well as techniques used in crafting this lyrical essays.
it is funny how we sometimes qualify what we write - like me saying, "I had to read this for an online course." As if I need an excuse to read a book.. Anyway.
Yes, this was for an online course. It is composed of twenty-seven essays from different Native American authors. For me, most of the essays were emotionally powerful and gripped my attention from start-to-finish. Other essays felt out-of-place in this collection. And still others blew right by me; they were just not my cup of tea. Most of them are well-written, and the writers do an amazing job of blending facts, emotions, and even some personal details to weave compelling narratives that did a number on me. Women in the Fracklands by Toni Jensen was just amazing and the best essay in the collection, in my opinion - the way she intertwines disparate facts and situations and emotions into a profound voice in her essay was beautiful to behold.
Most of the book for me was 3-3.5 stars, with some essays that would have knocked it down to a solid 3 stars, but Toni Jensen's essay alone put it at 4 stars for me.
At the same time, it is hard to write a review about this book because I do not want to "cheapen" what was written by commenting on text, on form, on whatever, because of the strong emotional impact many of these essays had on me. I hope my life is changed for the better because of what I read, and I glad this book was assigned reading because I probably would not have read it otherwise, and that would have been my loss..
A stunning and haunting collection of essays about storytelling, native identity, trauma, loss, cultural preservation, and the lasting effects of colonialism. Like most collections, I found some to be incredibly personal and therefore impenetrable for me, and some were overly academic. But there were a handful that simply blew me away. So many important voices, stories, and perspectives here. My favorites were: --"Letter to a Just-Starting-Out Indian Writer-and Maybe to Myself" by Stephen Graham Jones --"Fear to Forget & Fear to Forgive" by Bojan Louis --"Apocalypse Logic" by Elissa Washuta --"Caribou People" by Siku Allooloo --"Blood Running" by Sasha LaPointe
There’s no way to sum up such a vast collection so all I can say is it’s great and will make you think lots and give you many different takes on what is a lyrical essay.
Indigenous people understand there is no difference between the telling and the material. They understand how we all, in fact, live inside and through the narratives we tell and that the importance in telling stories is inseparable from the identity, community, and history they compose and the spiritual, economic, and political realities on which they depend and which they subvert or preserve. Joanne Barker
We present form-conscious Native nonfiction not to offer insight into an insulated view of Native lives but instead to follow in the path laid by Muskogee write Joy Harjo and Spokane write Gloria Bird: to “turn the process of colonization around” so that Native literatures “will be viewed and read as a process of decolonization.” Joanne Barker
Let the decolonization continue with these types of anthologies collecting amazing and powerful literature and stories. I did not realize there was a term for what was happening to me as I learned from the land and from the people who have always been here and there that I was allowing myself to be decolonized and seeing a different worldview. I feel so deeply about natural places and solitude and fresh air, and over time the land has been “working on me” to decolonize me and allow me to accept and open my mind. I am not trying to appropriate or “become” Native, but I love the way I think when I am reading the words of Indigenous folks. The words invite us to pause, take some deep breaths, relax, know it is difficult and do it anyways. It is not all nature and fresh air; it is about their history and trauma too, but the healing seems still layered in they ways they practice and have practiced for 10,000 years a bond with the land and sky.
I do not own an inch of land, unless you count the dirt in my plants. Yet I feel place so deeply so I cherish the ways I am learning and opening and changing. I had to go way out east on the Plains for my job today and a gigantic towering anvil cloud was forming every farther east, and I watched for a while, reveling in the difference between the Plains and the mountains, the flat land that makes the sky seem infinite, and where the clouds play a symphony. This is one area I do not quite agree with; I don’t think the clouds have a consciousness. But I respect and learn from the stories that Indigenous grace us with, and there is a power to it, which they may call consciousness but I may just call power, ions and air rushing and electrifying the world.
The concept of a dangerous unknown is a significant hallmark of stories in America. Fairy tales of European origin persisted generations beyond their origin and reinforce American values. For example, Cinderella with its rags to riches lesson, perpetuates the colonial myth that all of us can pull ourselves up by our petite bootstraps and become a princess. Another favorite, Little Red Riding Hood, promotes a lesson of wild dangers surely met on a lone venture into the forest and teaches children that wolves are demons.
Indigenous artists tell different stories and advance different values. Indigenous artists are the history keepers of their generations. Indigenous artists are history keepers of their generations. Indigenous artists are their generation’s witnesses. Those stories remain alive and carry their testimony into the millennia.
The history here recounted took place at the beginning of the Little Ice Age hundreds of years ago in southeastern Alaska in the place that is now called Glacier Bay, the ancestral homeland of the Chookaneidi clan of the Tlingit nation. In the Tlingit social structure, ties to the land are acknowledged by geographical divisions known as kwaans, which remain part of an individual’s essential identity regardless of physical residence.
“The Girl Who Called the Glacier” is among many ancient stories recounted in “Haa Shaka, Our Ancestors: Tlingit Oral Narratives”, a landmark book of narratives told in the original language and translated by Nora Maks Dauenhauer. This story can be placed just before the story of the first white men, if indicating approximately when the events occurred, the year 1650.
Although the geographical area of what is now SOutheast Alaska has undergone intermittent glaciations over several millennia, the most recent significant period of glaciations , popularly known as the Little Ice Age, is estimated to have commenced between 600 and 800 years ago. The ice surge that covered Glacier Bay is 300 years ago…the portion of Chookaneidi history was kept for some twelve generations before being written down.
Place is not the stage upon which events occur but is rather an active participant in those events. This acknowledgment of the power inherent in place, which must exist in all elements of setting, appears in oral tradition and in contemporary writing. The glacier that is central to this story is the consciousness-possessing catalyst necessitating flight. When the people leave, they understand the glacier is an participant in unfolding events, and they are also aware of the reciprocal grief that their absence will cause the house, to the river, and to the land. Place is not limited to its definition of setting but is an active participant, not only in the this story of the glacier’s history, not only in an Indigenous way of seeing the world, but in the certainty of all life experience. Landscape, place, and the inspirited, living land is an active participant to our identity, our history, our experience, ourselves as much as any character is a participant in all our stories.
Ernestine Hayes
American culture tells a story that the long record of Native use and occupation that took place before European contact is “prehistory.” Indigenous groups, however, possess histories of thousands of years of occupancy and exodus, relocation and settlement, exploration and discovery, embedded throughout the generations in legal process, artistic declarations, symbolic regalia, and oral tradition at least as accurately and in many cases more accurately than the European system of writing that has been used for so many years to remove rights and appropriate lands. Before contact, Indigenous cultures possessed vigorous legal systems, effective educational systems, efficient health systems, elaborate social orders, elegant philosophical and intellectual insights, sophisticated kinship systems, complex languages, profitable trade systems- every social institution needed for a culture to flourish for thousands of years, not least of which is a brilliant method of history-keeping that employs elements we now call creative writing.
Tell this story: had the colonial invasion not taken place, Indigenous people would still be living in the twenty-first century. Our lives would still be modern. Paved roads, airports, and electricity would still occur. Some things would be different. Our children would be receiving educations meant to lead to their success. We would not be so vulnerable to incarceration, alcoholism, poverty. We would be healthy. We would all be speaking our own languages. And we would still be telling our own stories.
We are engaged in the fundamental human activity of telling stories. Around the campfire, in films, on the page, we are witnesses to the events of our world. With our words, we keep the present history of our culture. With our words, we perpetuate our human values. With our words, we clarify our worldview. We witness. We witness. We witness.
Ernestine Hayes
Nizhoni doo a’ani doo ate el’i doo ayoo’o’oni (Beauty & Memory & Abuse & Love) The beautiful notion of childhood is the Dine ideal of hozho, which can be translated roughly to ‘a balance of walking and living in harmony, in conjunction with all beings and all things, that each element of the universe has its place and purpose in the machination of existence.’ Bojan Louis
I slice ghost clouds. Cocooned in the looming engine’s roar, I know the within of time-space…Off the great turning world, I am sky turtle. Shallow skies stretch into dullest immensity, now etched by fire-Earth’s velvet blood burned aloft. I am becoming through machines of speed, and still, I am still inside them. Your big-little voice infuses song precisely to air. Still you are northern plains lighting, equator rain. We have never mirrored one another. You are my-I am your-inside out.
Kim TallBear
Imaani- ocean Tinmiat- bird
How many oceans full of seabirds were there? How many oceans How many words
Many oceans once full of seabirds Few words to describe them
Tinitkaa: It blew away
A particular constellation containing many stars: Sigupsigat
A collection of lyric essays by Indigenous authors. Given that Indigenous writing, especially nonfiction, is so often read in a purely ethnographic mode, this collection aims to focus attention on form and on form's relationship to content, which "enables a move away from a focus on a static idea of 'Native information' and, instead, emphasizes the dynamic process of 'Native in formation'" (5). Contains all the breadth, creativity, and craft you would expect. Of course, some worked better for me than others - that's just how collections work. But particularly as someone who has gradually been getting more interested in essays as something that I might (once my current book project is done) want to play around with – even if it's unlikely that I'll be bold enough to venture into the more lyrical end of the lyric subcategory – this was a great book to pick up. Some excellent, clever, powerful writing!
I love essay collections, and those that in some way address the essay form itself are my favorite. This collection of essays by contemporary Native writers begins with a discussion of traditions of Native writing and then sets forth its own purpose: to collect pieces that stretch the boundaries of what an essay can do and explore Native experiences in innovative and and formally-daring ways. There is tremendous variety on offer here, both in terms of subject and tone. The collection is organized using basket weaving as its central concept: the sections each connect a basket weaving technique — coiling, plaiting, and twining — to a method of structuring an essay. Contributors include Stephen Graham Jones, Deborah Miranda, Terese Marie Mailhot, and more.
This was an assigned book I had to read in grad school, which normally would mean I wasn't a fan of it, but this one was better than others. I don't think I would have read it on my own, but I'm glad that I did. A wonderful book of beautiful, important works wrapped in culture and history from Indigenous writers that really opened my eyes and mind to worlds that I otherwise never would have experienced. It's basically an eye-opening collection of works that will break down any assumptions you had, will teach you about any false assumptions you had, and teach you how to empathize.
Do I recommend this book? Absolutely.
Are you white? Read this. Do you want to learn more about Indigenous Americans' history from their persective? Read this.
What I loved about this book was how every essay in this collection hit me and just kept hitting me in all the feels. As someone who is constantly thinking and overthinking race, place, family, trauma, and culture these authors left nothing unsaid. The way they worded specific issues interwoven with aspects from their lives and connected it was beautiful and I kept thinking "How could I never have thought of it like this before?" and also "How do they used words this way?" Their essays mean so much to me that I actually went out and bought this book (I had originally borrowed it from my library). I've started reading other works by these authors and I can't appreciate them enough
This book was life altering. I highly recommend it to everyone. The editing was spot on, and I've rarely read a collection like this where the order of the pieces was so clearly cultivated to keep the reactions fluid.
LOVED IT. I think this book is deeply important for many reasons- not the least of which is understanding the need for work from Native American authors to be more celebrated. I learned a lot of things that were shocking, compelling, and haunting. You need to read this book.
Masterfully curated. Deeply thought provoking and heartbreaking. Inspired much empathy and I think it should be required reading in history and lit courses.
This book is a very enjoyable anthology of writings, reflections, by Native authors, often giving beautiful glimpses into their respective cultures, family values, and struggles, and achievements, with many conveying useful historic, scientific, and literary knowledge. What each has in common is: the story told, or information shared, is in the form of lyric essay, creative nonfiction.
In the following short excerpt from Writers.com ”Writing Your Truth: Understanding the Lyric Essay” Sean Glatch describes this literary form, as follows: “In literary nonfiction, no form is quite as complicated as the lyric essay. Lyrical essays explore the elements of poetry and creative nonfiction in complex and experimental ways, combining the subject matter of autobiography with poetry’s figurative devices and musicality of language.”
On the back cover of “Shapes of Native Nonfiction: Collected Essays By Contemporary Writers” we’re told it is: “Editors Elissa Washuta and Teresa Warburton ground this anthology in the formal art of basket making, using weaving techniques such as coiling and plaiting as organizing themes. The result is itself a well-crafted basket, a curated collection of imaginative, world-making essays by twenty-three contemporary Native writers from tribal nations across Turtle Island.”
These two pieces of information, for me, describe the essence, the form and content of this book, perfectly. What I’m having difficulty describing is what I’ve gained in reading this book. I've received such a wealth of insight, entertainment, general information, so really found it to be a wonderful reading experience. I found such incredible beauty in the writing itself, and a true appreciation for each writer sharing their stories, most of them to such an unexpected personal extent, revealing their inner selves, their very souls, to all of us. It’s in sharing our stories, whether happy, sad, painful, or peaceful, that we connect with one another. This is a book I’ll certainly read again, and a book I’d definitely recommend to everyone. It’s an exceptionally good read.
Shapes of Native Nonfiction is a compelling book that brings together many Indigenous voices into collaboration, weaving together some of the most profound ideas and themes of Native identity, trauma, and the haunting effects of colonialism. While each writer is unique in the way that they communicate their ideas, they all unite together and complement each other through their collective voices and stories.
Drawing from the preface of this book, it is clear that the anthology becomes an “exquisite vessel” for the multitude of Native writers to express their thoughts and feelings. Hopefully, by reading this book, you will gain an appreciation for one or more of these writers and their works. It is a great way to sample and survey the many voices of Indigenous literatures.
Some of the essays that I enjoyed were: - “Fairy Tales, Trauma, Writing into Dissociation” - “To the Man Who Gave Me Cancer” - “Goodbye Once Upon a Time”
This anthology collects essays by twenty-three contemporary Native writers with a specific focus on essay form and shape. Organized into four parts—Technique, Coiling, Plaiting, and Twining—the essays in this book illustrate how shape can serve as both aesthetic and social organizing structure. As Washuta and Warburton write in their introduction, “we present this collection of form-conscious Native Nonfiction as an illuminating example of how contemporary Native authors use form to offer incisive observation, critique, and commentary on our political, social, and cultural worlds rather than only relegating their contributions to descriptive narrative of Native life” (14). I'd recommend this book to anyone who writes, teaches, or enjoys reading creative nonfiction.
"Trust that we are doing what we believe will help us survive your nation." -- Elissa Washuta, "Apocalypse Logic"
As I was gathering books for my library display I realized that this book has been on my list for more than two years, and I still haven't read it. It was all the things I hoped it would be -- brilliant, funny, hopeful, and like looking in a mirror. I've been privileged to read many of these authors, including Elissa Washuta, Alicia Elliott, Billy-Ray Belcourt, and Kim Tallbear, but there were many others who I had never read, including Adrienne Keene who wrote the brilliant essay "To the Man Who Gave Me Cancer" where she so beautifully details the horror of being a Native woman dealing with doctors, and men. Such a great collection, one I will be buying and keeping!
I highly recommend this book, which provided for me new material from some of my all-time favourite authors and introduced me to voices I hadn't come across before. The introduction frames some of the troubling tendencies to approach Native nonfiction through an ethnographic lens and offers instead new insights and approaches to understand the formal interventions of these texts. There are so many great essays in the collection, but some of my faves are "Letter to a Just-Starting-Out Indian Writer--and Maybe to Myself" by Stephen Graham Jones, "Real Romantic" by Eden Robinson and "Apocalypse Logic" by Elissa Washuta.
This is a beautiful collection, created with so much heart. It blends the kind of robust and insightful scholarship you need with much that is helpful on a personal level. If you are a teacher, this will be essential. If you are a reader or a writer, it will make your day. I spent a lot of time being mindblown at the sudden brain connection between fibercraft and writing, objects and narrative, art and form and the way things turn out. There are other connections to be made, but I'll let you make them yourself. There is something in this book you will love; there is something in here that you needed; there are writers in here that you'll want more of, guaranteed.
This collection is a gift to any reader or creative writing instructor. I could design a whole syllabus with these essays, and in fact, I have. My students, lifelong learners dedicated to the personal essay, broke through their own limitations by studying the contributions of writers like Billy-Ray Belcourt of the Driftpile Cree Nation. In her own renowned essay in The Offing, Washuta wrote that whiteness "is not a phenotype but a way of relating." With the work contained within this book, the editors and contributors shows the intricate interconnectedness made possible by centering indigenous thought.
This is an important book—the act of reading this anthology is in itself an act of decolonization. The authors and editors are native, and they rightly place the voices of native authors at the forefront, sending all the settlers into the margins and into the background. Good! The anthology is organized around the concept of the essay as a vessel, specifically a basket. The shape of the anthology speaks to the importance of form in creative nonfiction: form creates content, content dictates shape, they work hand in hand.
Nuanced writing that works spectacularly with the editors aim of utilizing the stages of Basket Weaving to section off essays that differ in tone, voice, structure/style, cadence and yet are all very unified in this anthology of Indigenous voices speaking through and to personal experience, history, and the ways in which we pursue healing. Fantastic collection for study/teaching and general reading.
Wonderful, complex stories told in completely different ways. If you went to school for writing (not I) you might get more out of this than others as the first part of the book talks in depth about processes of writing and different authors discuss the varied forms of writing.
More than the different stories, the book has a wealth of authors who have written other stories and suggest other book and authors.