I will admit to some bias, sharing a name with the editor (my father).
Those who start this book expecting exact histories of these varying examples of "dropout culture" will find themselves disappointed. As much as anything else, Gone to Croatan is a perfect exposé of the fact that the narratives we tell about history rarely match what truly happened, & in a society of spectacle what happened doesn't matter nearly as much as what people think happened. In the study of history, especially that of liminal spaces (or perhaps the occasional TAZ), signifiers like Louis Riel in Darren Wershler's essay in this book are "reconstituted 'in a seemingly infinite number of ways,'" constantly reinterpreted & rewritten in waves of politics & personal whimsy.
If one cannot understand this fact, they will not enjoy this book. Detractors like Nathaniel Deutsch, who wrote an entire book axing Hugo Leaming's take on the Ben-Ishmael tribe, generally fall into this category. Those who take Leaming's claims of tri-racial descent as absolute typically fail to acknowledge the creation of race as a function of the systems of power. That being said, even Deutsch acknowledges the likelihood that some of the Ishmaels were indeed multi-racial, and perhaps even of English Traveller descent.
What Gone to Croatan does exceptionally well is poke & expand many holes in the fragile vernacular understanding of American history, and then establish a narrative which seeks to bring that which is usually viewed on the outskirts into the central view, dreaming of ways to fold &/or mend the tapestry over the holes & taking in the warped fabric left behind. And while some of the narratives included may not wholly add up to the detractors' satisfaction, others have proven completely true. The Ben-Ishmaels may not have been Muslim, but all recent scholarship suggests that those rumors and dreams of vast networks of runaway slave maroons in the Great Dismal Swamp are completely true.
To read this book is to immerse yourself in the alienation inherent to any imperial system. It doesn't attempt to demonize any group of people, but to understand how a colonial society makes slaves of us all. It reveals a scattering of hidden histories throughout our collective American narrative, from the Revolution, to the migrations of the Métis, the Haudenosaunee and their role in influencing the women's rights movement, & the occupation of Alcatraz (not even mentioned in a tour of the island a friend of mine took just this past year). It asks you not only to reimagine history, but geography, & topography, saying that "since neither toponyms nor topographs embody 'reality,' disappearance need not always be a catastrophe." Everything exists in a system of tradition and variation, which may go so far as loss.
We cannot necessarily undo the bonds of the past, but allowing ourselves to understand them with a greater sense of uncertainty, & a willingness to believe the multi-faceted variations of folk history, especially those on the outskirts, can help us imagine the future as well.
As an Indian scholar at Alcatraz concludes the penultimate chapter:
“Our dreams belong to us. Now the time has come to share them with each other and to see what we can do with them.”