An engaging and masterful collection of essays that vividly captures the author's diverse work as award-winning writer, activist, parent, scholar, professor, anthropologist, critic, and traveler.
Packing up -- Family occasions. Sundays -- The contest -- Father's Day -- The New York hat -- The train cake -- A second adoption -- Growing up -- Mice -- Rites of passage. On the road -- The quest for pie -- The sentry -- Everybody's children. Thankfulness -- Fetal alcohol syndrome : a national perspective -- Fetal alcohol syndrome : a parent's perspective -- Crossing the line -- Crazy Horse Malt Liquor -- The power of love -- Indians. "I" isn't for "Indian" -- Indians on the shelf -- Rewriting history -- Discoveries -- The grass still grows, the rivers still flow : contemporary Native Americans -- The hundred year war for White Earth -- Learning from mistakes. For Indians, no Thanksgiving -- Native American literature in an ethnohistorical context -- Mr. Reagan and the Indians -- Dances with Indians -- Opened doors. Beating the system -- Trusting the words -- Summer reading -- Word from the front -- House of stone -- Little fears -- Going places. Americans all -- Martyrs -- Pen pals -- The forgotten algebra test nightmare -- Life stories -- Home. The cherry tree -- Three yards -- Real and true estate -- Maintaining a home -- Cutting grass
Michael Dorris was a novelist, short story writer, nonfiction writer, and author of books for children
The first member of his family to attend college, Dorris graduated from Georgetown with honors in English and received his graduate degree in anthropology from Yale. Dorris worked as a professor of English and anthropology at Dartmouth College.
Dorris was part-Native American through the lineage of his paternal. He founded the Native American Studies department at Dartmouth in 1972 and chaired it until 1985.
In 1971, Dorris became the first unmarried man in the United States to adopt a child. His adopted son, Reynold Abel, was diagnosed with fetal alcohol syndrome and his condition became the subject of Dorris' The Broken Cord,(the pseudonym "Adam" is used for his son in the book).
In 1981, Dorris married aspiring writer Louise Erdrich. Throughout their relationship, Erdrich and Dorris edited and contributed to each other's writing.
In 1991, Dorris' adopted son, Reynold Abel, died after being hit by a car. In 1996, Louise Erdrich separated from Dorris. On April 10, 1997, Dorris committed suicide in Concord, New Hampshire.
This one is useful if a person wants to get deep into Michael Dorris’ mind: for example, if you were intrigued with his writing (like I am.) or if you wanted to be an expert on Dorris, so Paper trails would give you his bio; his family and work lives, his history; his priorities; his politics; his identity; a glimpse into his mind.
Some of it is tragic. Some of it is dry. But most of it is relevant, even today. And along the way, a lot of Michael’s ruminations on the ruination of his nations were published: thus, an anthology woven with a biography. And, worth reading.
I love this author's fiction, but this collection of essays is difficult to navigate. I found myself skimming over the unnecessary words to get to the gist of what he was trying to say. The heartbreaking account of his adopted son's fetal alcohol syndrome was eye-opening.
It's a misnomer to call this a collection of essays; many of the writings are Letters to the Editor or op-eds from various magazines & newspapers like The New Yorker, Newsweek and the L.A. Times. Some are forewords to books. Still others are short, blurby pieces, written for literary magazines, that are too short to be "essays", too long and plainspoken to be prose poems.
I suspect Dorris was able to publish almost anything during his era of popularity, a condition that shows in the quality of the writing in this book. Some of the pieces are blah enough that they feel like anyone could have written them. Many felt like obligatory pieces written by an expert on Native American issues who had to keep his name in the papers.
To be fair, I did learn a lot from one, a work of journalistic writing about federal Indian law and broken treaties, particularly focusing on the White Earth band of Ojibwe in Minnesota, who are still making news today. I just heard on NPR a couple weeks ago that there continue to be fishing disputes between this tribe and surrounding communities.
If you're interested in Native American scholarship, this is worth a look. Otherwise, I'd say skip it. (Easy enough to do; I suspect this is out of print. I got it at a $1 bookstore.)
Notes from 4/10/10:
I got curious today and looked up Michael Dorris on Google. I've known about his suicide and the unresolved child abuse allegations since '97, but had always resisted looking into any of it because I liked his writing and Louise's, and my freshman year at Dartmouth I'd met them both -- Montgomery Fellows at the time -- at a reception for incoming students interested in creative writing (in Sept. 1992). They were the first writers I'd ever met, and role models in a way, so I wasn't quite ready to think ill of either of them.
Reading this article (http://www.startribune.com/local/8383...), I'm shocked and stunned to see Dorris come off as a cruel, cold and calculating child abuser. The article is well-researched and certainly makes sense. The story builds to a point where the evidence snowballs and it seems there's no other conclusion to draw. He sounds guilty and probably was guilty.
It's shocking to think that someone could be this clever at hiding his real personality for so long. It's even more shocking to realize that people can write so sensitively, with great affection and love for their characters, when in reality they are capable of actions that speak to the opposite extremes of human nature.
A Yellow Raft in Blue Water, which I first read when I was fifteen or so, is one of my all-time favorite novels. It's hard to reconcile that smart, charming story with this clunky collection of essays. A lot of the problem is that the essays feel so dated, but I doubt they were much good twenty years ago when they were written -- they're pompous and boring, and they take way too much pleasure in demolishing obviously dumb straw-man arguments. Also, what happened to the funny, unpretentious, conversational prose of A Yellow Raft? In his essays, Dorris never settles for a simple sentence if he can construct a convoluted one; and can't resist inserting extra adjectives wherever he can fit them. The result is that some of his paragraphs are impenetrable, nonsensical, and just plain unreadable.
The essay on federal Indian law was fairly informative.
I'd originally gotten this book via ILL to read one essay on MD's take on Laura Ingalls Wilder's books. The chapter is called "Trusting the words." I ended up reading nearly all of the essays though, some in more depth than others. The most absorbing ones I found were his musings on America and travel within, and on defining the state of being, and the places we call Home. The one essay I remember skipping over almost entirely was on disputed Native territory. It was just so sad, I didn't want to read it and feel sadder.
I didn't begin reading nonfiction until my second year in college, but this is by far one of my favorite books. I love Michael Dorris, he has an ability to capture thought, feeling, space, and voice on paper that is mind blowing. I especially enjoyed reading because I love Louise's writing as well. He is so honest and visceral, Dorris will always be one of my favorite writers.
I enjoyed Yellow Raft in Blue Water and quickly picked up Paper Trail when I spotted it at the local thrift shop. This book of short pieces did not measure up. It seemed like a series of writing exercises rather than thoughtful explorations. I continue to recommend Yellow Raft if I run across another of the author's novels I'll probably take a chance.