Black Water: Family, Legacy and Blood Memory

by David Alexander Robertson (Author/Narrator)

A son who grew up away from his Indigenous culture takes his Cree father on a trip to their family's trapline, and finds that revisiting the past not only heals old wounds but creates a new future.

The son of a Cree father and a non-Indigenous mother, David A. Robertson was raised with virtually no knowledge or understanding of his family’s Indigenous roots. His father, Don, spent his early childhood on a trapline in the bush northeast of Norway House, Manitoba, where his first teach was the land. When his family was moved permanently to a nearby reserve, Don was not permitted to speak Cree at school unless in secret with his friends and lost the knowledge he had been gifted while living on his trapline. His mother, Beverly, grew up in a small Manitoba town with not a single Indigenous family in it. Then Don arrived, the new United Church minister, and they fell in love.

Structured around a father-son journey to the northern trapline where Robertson and his father will reclaim their connection to the land, Black Water is the story of another journey: a young man seeking to understand his father's story, to come to terms with his lifelong experience with anxiety, and to finally piece together his own blood memory, the parts of his identity that are woven into the fabric of his DNA.

Genres: Nonfiction, Memoir, Indigenous, Canada, Audiobook, Biography, Biography Memoir

9 pages, Audiobook

First published September 22, 2020

About the author

DAVID A. ROBERTSON is a two-time winner of the Governor General's Literary Award, has won the TD Canadian Children’s Literature Award, as well as the Writer's Union of Canada Freedom to Read award. He has received several other accolades for his work as a writer for children and adults, podcaster, public speaker, and social advocate. He was honoured with a Doctor of Letters by the University of Manitoba for outstanding contributions in the arts and distinguished achievements in 2023. He is a member of Norway House Cree Nation and lives in Winnipeg.

Reviews

[Jenna (Falling Letters) · Rating 5 out of 5]

Review originally published 11 November 2020 at Falling Letters.

I have reviewed many of Robertson’s works on my blog, but this is my first time reviewing a work of non-fiction. From the prologue alone, you get a good sense of the story you’re in for: the documentation of Robertson’s personal journey of bettering his understanding of family and identity, culminating in reconnecting with the land on which his Cree father trapped as a young boy and had not returned to since. The subtitle distills the main themes: “family, legacy and blood memory”. Robertson reflects on the way his family has shaped him and what it means for him, as a son of a Cree father and white mother, to be Cree.

I attended Black Water’s virtual launch at the end of September. I had read about half the book at the time. You can view the event (hosted by McNally Robinson with Robertson in conversation with Jael Richardson) on YouTube. During that event, Robertson made two comments in particular regarding the book’s tone and structure that stood out to me. One relates to the story’s bittersweet ending.

Sadly, his father passed away while he worked on the final draft. Meaning, Robertson had crafted the entire book while his father lived. He described (during the launch) that the book would have required major rewriting to incorporate his father’s passing. I don’t recall if he said it would have become a different story, but I imagine it would have. Black Water is the story of reconnecting with his father, not losing him.

The second comment also pertained to the tone and structure of the story. Robertson noted that he wanted it to be as engaging as a strong fictional narrative. (I’m paraphrasing from my notes; don’t read that as a direct quote.) This also stood out to me while reading. He embraces a structure less common in the memoir genre, weaving in his and his father’s visit to the trapline with memories and reflections. The tone also stood out to me as exemplary. Robertson writes in a way that feels calming and quiet, even as he slices to the heart of important matters. (A quote further down in this review demonstrates what I’m describing.)

To wrap up this review, I’d like to dip back to subject matter. While telling the story of his family, Robertson also addresses a variety of subjects, including anxiety, veganism, the legacy of lost language, the impact Family Allowance had on his father’s family, and visiting family in a small Mennonite town. He carefully and thoughtfully acknowledges that his experience is not a monolith and Indigenous folks' experiences may vary vastly from his. For example, when addressing religion:

Still, I think it’s important to discuss the pervasive impact religion has had on Indigenous communities. This is well documented. If the indoctrination wasn’t happening at church-run schools, it was taking place in what could be viewed as church-run communities, where structures built to praise a Christian God enveloped people on reserve like baptismal water. I visit Indigenous communities, and in many of them, churches appear on the roadsides with the frequency of rez dogs. And like a rez dog, the church can be – the church has been – both feral and friendly.

While for Dad Christianity was, and continues to be, a positive experience, the church, in Indigenous communities for Indigenous People, has also been viciously damaging. In Dad’s case, his faith in Jesus Christ did not come at the expense of his identity as a Cree man. (pg. 121)

The Bottom Line 💭 A masterful memoir, Black Water is one of Robertson’s strongest works. A must read for fans of life writing, father-son relationships, or explorations of family history and Indigenous identity.

[Robyn · Rating 4 out of 5]

I don't think this is the best written book technically, which was sometimes frustrating - it could be repetitive (especially near the end) and sometimes the reflections started veering off into what felt like casual stream of consciousness thoughts. Overall though I really appreciated the story and his thoughts about family and memory and language, and it had a pretty high emotional impact.

It definitely wasn't the story I was expecting from the brief description, which is maybe my own bias or stereotypes kicking in. It was definitely a very unique story and I also liked the way the book was structured. Even though I have a very different background than David, a lot of what he talked about was relatable. It is important really, for anyone to connect with their culture, to learn as much from their parents and grandparents as they can before it is too late. This caused me to reflect on my own background and realize that I do feel very culturally empty on one side of my family. I still have great relationships with the people on that side, but somewhere along the way we became disconnected from our culture(s) of origin. Perhaps it is because the majority of that side of the family were such early settlers that they disconnected from anything to do with their countries of origin hundreds of years ago, I cannot say for sure. It is ironic that that side of the family has done the most detailed genealogical tracking, but I cannot think of a single "tradition" that has truly been passed down over generations. It is also really interesting to me that a childhood trip to the area of Canada where most of our distant relations still live, for a family reunion with a bunch of people we met once and never saw again, is such a strong, pulling memory for my sisters and me to this day.

There were some interesting questions raised in the book about whether it is enough to passively "teach" by living a life by example, or if active teaching of traditions is needed (I think his conclusion was that active teaching is necessary). It is evident as to how the Cree immersion programs in Saskatoon cannot keep up with the demand, how much people want to connect their kids with their culture through language. I hope the Canadian school system will eventually be able to rise the challenge and give more indigenous kids the opportunity to learn their native language.

I would be interested in checking out David Robertson's graphic novels; perhaps his writing style translates better to that medium. Regardless - a very worthwhile read for me, even if the writing was frustrating at times.

[Care · Rating 4 out of 5]

Black Water does one of those things that I love best in memoirs. It isn't just about David's life -- his identity crisis, his pain from his parents' separation, his childhood bullying, his anxiety, his reclamation of his Cree heritage -- it's also a story about his father and his ancestors. Because his life wouldn't be what it was without the experiences and choices of his relations. To be present or absent, to teach their children about the trapline at Black Water or to try to spare them from racism by raising them without traditions.
Robertson shows these connections between his life and the actions and experiences of his ancestors like they are constellations in the sky -- invisible until you have them pointed out to you by a guide.
His rekindling of connection with his father was my favourite part of this memoir. It made me emotional to see their friendship blooming after years of separation and friction. The way he forgave his father for his past mistakes in order to restore that father figure to his life. Because he understood why his father made the decisions that he did, even if the results were bad. Their relationship was really special. It was emotional reading about the tender care and love they felt for each other.
I'm also so appreciative of the author for including his experiences with anxiety, that is representation that is sorely needed especially in Indigenous memoirs. Very few complaints, maybe the writing is a bit overworked and sentimental at points for my liking, but it's hard to criticize the way a person tells their story authentically.
I recommend this to fans of From the Ashes, In My Own Moccasins, and For Joshua.

[Jenna · Rating 5 out of 5]

Read it. And then pick up his Theory of Crows. He’s a new-to-me auto buy author. And I loved this memoir deep dive into his past. If you can, listen to the audiobook. It’s worth it

[Prairie Fire Review of Books · Rating 5 out of 5]

Originally reviewed by Mary Barnes for Prairie Fire's Book Reviews Program. prairiefire.ca

After several novels, adult and young adult, and a children’s book for which he won the Governor General’s Literary Award in 2017, David Robertson has written a memoir. This current work recently received accolades, the Carol Shields Winnipeg Book Award and the Alexander Kennedy Ibister Award for Nonfiction at the 2021 Manitoba Book Awards.

The book opens with the author and his father, Don, sitting in a café, one of many the two men will visit to have their talks. Don expresses his desire to return to Black Water, to the trapline where he trapped, fished and hunted as a boy. The author agrees and so begins a journey of discovery and reconciliation for both men.

The author is the son of a Cree father and a mother of Scottish, Irish and English descent. He grew up in Winnipeg with his parents and two siblings, and no questions were asked about his background until he was in his teens. When asked if he was Indigenous, Robertson “…denied it. I had no desire to be Indigenous because everything I’d learned about Indigenous People during my formative years was negative.” (12) The author was also separated from his father for a decade and his absences would add to the disconnection from his Indigenous roots. There is a heartrending scene in the book where Robertson is at the window of his parents’ house watching his father leave. The reader can sense the boy’s anguish.

Robertson talks about his father’s family, about being on the land in the outdoors, being part of the community, trapping. The family, parents, grandparents, siblings, cousins, aunts and uncles, all worked together. It was important because the work was necessary to the family’s survival. Robertson’s father was considered an adult at nine years of age having his own trapline as he learned to obtain food for the family. This way of life disappeared with the Federal government’s introduction of the Family Allowance. One of the stipulations that came with the benefit was that families must have a permanent address. A trapline was not a permanent address. The elder Robertson goes on to explain; “what it did was break up traplines for the families.” (101) A tradition fell away. This new aid interrupted the flow of family life and brought an unwanted domesticity to a free people. And what the Government of Canada thought was beneficial proved unfortunate for a way of life.

Returning to the land, to Black Water, the author has a “feeling of familiarity.” (25) He learns from an Elder that this is blood memory and whether it is placing a foot on the land or sensing fellowship to a place, blood memory is a part of the Indigenous spirit and is always with the people. The sense of place is not only a physical setting but involves an emotional one relating to the heart—the blood. It becomes of sense of solidity that one ends up saying, ‘this is where I belong,’ to these people, to this culture. It is this place, Black Water, where Robertson realizes the story that his father tells is vital to his legacy.

Robertson is passionate about telling the story of his roots. His chronicle about growing up, the story of the separation from his father then their finding a closeness once again, is both poignant and tender. He discusses his past and his fight with anxiety attacks matter-of-factly without losing the thread of the story, that of finding out who he is.

The book is conversational as if the reader is sitting with the author and his father in the café or in the plane or on the land as he weaves his story of loss, discovery and love. The book’s recounting of a young man’s search for his heritage, which includes the lack of respect of a people long harangued and discriminated against, is one that resonates. Once you pick up this book you will find it hard to put down.

[Angie · Rating 5 out of 5]

I’m not often one to cry when reading books, but this one touched my heart in so many ways. In his journey to find himself and his somewhat-lost culture, David Robertson finds his own identity within the identity of his father. If you’ve been on a journey to learn about your family’s history, if you’ve tried to reconnect with a family member you’ve grown away from, if you want to know more about Canadian Indigenous history and culture (specifically Swampy Cree), or you want to enjoy a story about growing up and finding your way, give this book a shot. As a Manitoban, there were so many places and ideas I connected with, but I also saw sides of my province that were new to me. I learned a lot from Robertson’s tale, and I think the best part about it, was that it came from the perspective of learning from the past together. Residential schools, murdered and missing Indigenous women, girls and 2 spirits, racism, intergenerational trauma, poverty, addiction, the Indian Act - all heavy topics, all a part of our collective history, all something we can learn more about, all things that were covered exquisitely in this book without leaving the reader feeling bogged down. Read this book, I think you’ll learn something and find a way to connect with the author, no matter your background.

Thank you, Robertson, for letting us join you on this journey.

[Sarah · Rating 4 out of 5]

Finishing this book, I feel like I’m being enveloped in the warm embrace of Robertson’s dad’s star blanket. This is a tender memoir of family truth and reconciliation. Raised wIthout knowing he was Indigenous, David struggles with identity and with anxiety. Learning his Cree family history, questions are answered and healing begins. David and his dad did the hard work of communicating and listening with open hearts and minds to repair their estranged relationship. This memoir is the result and on every page I could feel a son’s love and respect for his parents, who did the best they knew how.

I really liked the structure of the narrative with the journey father and son took together, in 2018, to the family trap line at Black Water, while recalling back, through stories, the journey of their lives together, apart and then together again. “The boat slides over the line onto Black Water and continues until the hull scratches against rocks on the shore. The surface is blanketed with loose rounded stones and slopes up towards the clearing. Dad digs his walking stick into the ground, and it secures itself between two stones. Another step. We’re closer still. Just before he puts a foot onto the grass, I glance back and see more than just the space between here and the boat, the steps we’ve taken over that distance. I see my path and his, apart at first, then how they intersect. How our foot prints lead from the boat, up the shoreline, to where they are now. Over the loose round of stones, over the flat rocks of the Boreal shield, over the path that leads between spruce trees, between brush and long grass. Over all this to Black Water, the open field where dad used to live as a child, a place he’s not been for 70 years but remembers the same way I do. In memories. In moments that will never fade because he’s passed them on through the stories he shared. His foot hovers over the grass for a moment, then he’s home. The next moment, so am I.

[Megan · Rating 5 out of 5]

I’m very stingy with my five star ratings but this book rates one on a number of levels. Mostly, the author deserves it for sheer honesty. I have never read a memoir where the author was this willing to put his life out there, warts and all, and not try to explain or justify his or his family’s personal decisions. The author was open about his struggles with anxiety in a way that goes along way towards normalizing a very common mental health issue. I am grateful for his candor.

I also really loved Robertson’s turn of phrase, his use of metaphor and his imagery. It was a lovely twist to a book that felt more like a conversation with the author than anything else. I read this book over a long period of time. I wanted to let the passages sit with me and work commitments kept me from reading as often as I would like. It was an easy book to read this way, dipping in and out, almost as if checking in with an old friend.

As well, I appreciated Robertson’s perspectives on his own indigeneity and how his father thought he would teach his boys how to be Cree men. While it offers an important perspective on the Indigenous experience in Canada, it also had a more universal message on self exploration and parenting.

This is a wonderful memoir that is still sitting with me.

[Katy O. · Rating 5 out of 5]

“……a feeling came over me that I’d come home. It was a feeling I now recognize as blood memory - that the memories and lives of my ancestors, of Dad, are woven into the fabric of my DNA. That everything they lived through, everything they experienced, lives within me. I feel the same thing here, on Black Water”
What a beautiful, quiet book. Robertson writes achingly about his relationship with his father and their shared heritage as members of the Cree Nation, and his experience growing up Indigenous without knowledge of that heritage. No review I write can do this story justice ~ this is highly recommended for anyone wanting to learn about and honor the experiences of members of the First Nations in Canada (and the US as the experiences are similar in regards to the atrocities committed by white governments).

[Lisa Ferguson · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a beautiful story. David Robertson welcomes us into his family and his history and allows us to walk beside him as he journeys with his dad to start to piece together just who he is in this life. David is one of my favourite people in real life and this story affirmed for me that he is such a good human being. I loved it.

[Stacey Bradley · Rating 5 out of 5]

As I sat down to write this review, I noticed the list of my goodreads friends who also all gave 5 star ratings. As I click the 5 stars for my review, I realize I have surrounded myself with quite the community of readers. David, I loved this book! You so graciously shared your story and through your description of locations, relationships, and events you gave me the opportunity to connect to you and your story. I was able to connect so much of your story to my own relationships, as well as my own geographic zig zag across this province. I have always loved hearing you speak and I love your stories, this piece has reinforced how in awe I am with your writing. I am so proud to say that you are from Manitoba, what a thriving community of writers we have!

[Courtney Boyer · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book was gifted to me by a friend, after a drunken convo at a bar about identity and wanting to get closer to our ancestors and roots. I’ve never felt super connected to my indigenous side, just because of personal family reasons on my dad’s side and his complicated relationship with his relatives….so I grew up with bits and pieces. To be fair, my parents really did try. We lived on a reservation for a little bit, we were brought into community, given family heirlooms and memorabilia, told stories, ect. I think it was hard to pretend my dad was FULLY white since he doesn’t exactly look it, but they did try to lean into it, especially moreso in my early years of life. BUT for most of my life I just felt like a normal American kid, pretty far removed, especially the bulk of my life from ages 3-current day not having been back to the reservation or much in contact with my dads side of the family.

In recent years as I’m well into adulthood now… I’ve really struggled with ‘owning it’ like I did more confidently when I was younger. I didn’t feel like I deserved to. Didn’t know enough. Have been grappling with what I’m ’allowed’ to feel vs not. The one drop rule… the whole 9 yards.

So this book was really interesting because the author was not even told he was indigenous until he was older and then he had to unpack his longing for identity starting from ground zero. Which seems like a much harder and more uphill journey than I am on, but provided a ton of perspective and inspiration nonetheless.

This book also covers pretty important topics and things I know about from my dad’s own experience and childhood of living on a reservation. For example, food deserts and rate of diabetes and heart disease for reservation-living indigenous people, the role Christianity has played in indigenous people’s lives and history (not always positive btw), loss of language, white-washing, ect.

This book has definitely inspired me to learn more about that background and maybe even visit the reservation my grandma currently lives on (I’ve never been.) This history and knowledge specific to my family won’t be around forever.

All in all, a pretty profound read and I’m better for having read it!

[Brenda Hoskin · Rating 5 out of 5]

This memoir is many things. At first, I thought it was an education tool wrapped up in a nice tale. It certainly gave me a deeper understanding of Canada’s ‘indigenous problem’, a phrase Robertson falls back on time and again, but without ranker; it’s simply because this terminology was used by government and religious institutions throughout history. But it’s far more than that. It’s a coming of age story, one I suspect we are each familiar with. Like Robertson, from earliest memory I personally searched for my place in the World. It starts with the nuclear family but, as the circle grows, from extended family and friends, to community and beyond, Robertson was on a mission not only to learn who he was; where he came from; what he would become but also why. Robertson shares foibles and accolades, all the while unravelling a story that is uniquely his but one which resonated with me on so many levels. I will definitely be looking for his other works in future. How much did I love this book? I smoked through this read in 3 days and give it a score of 4.5/5.

[Nathalia · Rating 5 out of 5]

An absolutely beautiful memoir and tribute to his father, Robertson’s “Black Water” is a must read. Full of love, wonder, discovery and forgiveness. The raw emotion, vulnerability and honesty was unlike anything I've read before. Add it to you reading pile.

[Alexis · Rating 4 out of 5]

Back to non-fiction for a minute.

David Robertson is a name with some accolades behind it, and not small accolades either. He's won the Governor General's award twice. He's also one of the growing number of Indigenous authors bringing his story and background to the mainstream, and I'm 100 per cent here for it.

But this is a little different. Until now, Robertson's found most of his success in the young adult novel, children's book, and graphic novel, and that kind of storytelling is very different from what he's trying to do here--a memoir exploring his relationship with his father and his journey for identity, having been raised kind of distant from his own culture.

So did it translate? The themes certainly did. I appreciated the perspective. I found myself grappling with the father-son relationship, even as the author obviously grappled with it.

And, I have to say, reading this kind of hyper-local author was cool. The giant banana statue outside of Melita? Yeah, I can see it when I close my eyes. Brandon University and the University of Manitoba? I'm familiar. I had heard of the high school sports teams he mentioned.

There were parts that I think Robertson is still finding his feet technically with this sort of story. Writing in the first person and about his own personal history, I think there's a temptation to head off on tangents or skip around in the narrative.

But if it's not technically perfect, it is very authentic and earnest.

I had a few of his other works on my TBR, and reading this has bumped those up the priority list.

[Niki · Rating 4 out of 5]

I enjoyed reading David Alexander Robertson's, an author I admire for his children's books, personal account of growing up in a predominately white neighbourhood, without his father around and his journey back to his father and to his Cree heritage. The love Robertson has for both of his parents, his family, and his roots shines through. Black Water is a powerful and touching memoir.

[Stephanie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Oh but David, you kill me. Pulling into work listening to the epilogue, and your voice breaking and me crying because it's all too close to home.

But a lovely piece, and what a way to honour your dad, your family <3

"We run away from what might have been, towards what is now to come. Lauren has told Jill and me on several occasions that she plans to have an inordinate number of children. She may not have twenty, but she'll have a few. She will learn Cree. She will teach her children Cree. This is how we will heal. Intergenerational trauma requires this kind of act, purposefully working towards healing through the connections we choose to foster, the things we seek to learn, in whichever way we choose to learn them. But typically, this acquisition of knowledge, this learning, happens through elders, happens through stories, and happens through the language. 'Tansi, mosôm. Kisâkihitin.'"

[Riccardo Lo Monaco · Rating 2 out of 5]

I don’t think there’s a way for me to review this book without risking being unintentionally offensive. I see that there are glowing reviews out there and that this book averages over 4 stars. All I can say is that I absolutely don’t see it. It may have something to do with the fact that I listened to the audiobook, but this was was not enjoyable, nor revelatory for me. I’m happy that it touched others in more productive ways. I’ll have to revisit this in print some time.

[Deb Russell · Rating 5 out of 5]

“The spirit of reconciliation is listening … without preconceptions.”
This line from this moving memoir resonated with me. Why? Because I had chosen the audiobook format for this memoir. I not only heard a wonderful story of family a the journey of discovery, but heard it in the author’s own voice! Thank-you for sharing your life.

[Roxanne · Rating 5 out of 5]

Truly one of the best books I’ve read in awhile. David A. Robertson is a masterful storyteller who weaves his own personal narrative into the broader conversations of truth and reconciliation. This book is an experience - one that offers grounding and joy.

[Chelsea · Rating 4 out of 5]

"My dad is in his early eighties, and despite my best efforts to will his immortality, he's not getting younger. He will not be a boy again. He will not be the father I used to know - the father I was unfamiliar with - again. Years from now, he will not be this father either. Years from now, he will exist in memories, and I will be left to collide with the open arms of those moments."

Please excuse me while I locate a box of tissues to staunch my bleeding heart. This captivating memoir outlines the life of not only David Alexander Robertson, but his father, Donald (Dulas) Alexander Robertson. It speaks of identity crises, the exploration of self, the importance of blood memory, and everything in between. The narrative style is tangential, which can be tedious for a reader who prefers their stories to be straight to the point, but Robertson tries to convey so many life lessons in 269 pages that I think it can be forgiven. This book will invoke reflection and evaluation of self, society and ancestry; a thoughtful and heavy, yet significant read.

[Rob Brock · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a memoir from the author of one of our favorite new series for kids, the Misewa Saga, which tells the story of two young foster kids in modern day Canada who venture to an alternate world with talking animals who speak Cree and where they learn about their own Cree heritage and what that means for life today. While that ongoing series was inspired by The Chronicles of Narnia, it has surpassed those books already in many respects. This memoir gives insight into some of the struggles of the children in the Misewa Saga, as the author recounts both his real life and the life of his parents, particularly his father, as the author grew up not knowing that he was Cree or what that meant. As a memoir I would give this four stars, because it is a candid and compassionate look at his and his father's misteps and good intentions as they both struggled to be better people. As a cultural commentary on the fraught history of the oppression of first nations people and their fight for preservation and self-autonomy, this book deserves five stars and an unqualified recommendation.

[Alicia · Rating 5 out of 5]

I loved so many things about this memoir. I appreciated the author’s honesty about his anxiety and the way he described the calming influence of his father as well as nature. Listening to the audio book was a similar experience for me. The author’s quiet and calm voice as he read his own words brought me similar peace and calm. He beautifully and simply shares his healing journey as he interviews and travels home with his father. He learns more about his fathers decisions, his family’s history and the land they come from. “Blood memory” was a new term for me. I often have this same feeling of connection to the land and community where my parents grew up. There is just something that feels deeply rooted and important when I am there. This was such an enjoyable listen!

[Kim Shay · Rating 5 out of 5]

Beautiful, beautiful book. Robertson is so eloquent and open. This book is about the relationship between him and his father, and as he recounts it, we are taken along with him and given a front row seat to their journey together and apart. This is a memoir, but it contains so many lessons for parents and children and their relationships, which can be complicated and messy.

Robertson has such a beautiful soul. It's a treat to read a book that I become immersed in to the point where I can't believe how much time is passed when I put it down.

Highly recommended.

[Patsey]

I liked the message. I didn’t like the writing. Sarah, you connected with it more emotionally than I did. I’m too hard ass 😳 This bit made me think about my own family memories:
p.60
“Isn’t that what blood memory is? The experiences of one generation felt by the next, and the next after that. Experiences, teachings, woven into the fabric of our DNA, ingrained in us through the stories we pass down as gifts. We tell the same stories, but they change over time, depending on the person, depending on the context. They change over time but become no less significant. There is truth to that.”

[Vandy Britton · Rating 5 out of 5]

Profound and deeply moving. Loved it.

[Sharon · Rating 5 out of 5]

Beautiful story…a son’s love and need for his father and his Cree family history.

[Mrs Heidrich · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a powerful book about so many things, but mostly about the power of story and the importance of sharing. I'm grateful that David A. Robertson shared his!

[Courtney · Rating 5 out of 5]

I loved this book. It made me weep in the final chapters and I felt a huge wave of hope when I finished it.

[Bailey · Rating 4 out of 5]

Beautiful storytelling with some really important messages. Loved the Sackville NB reference