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The Snake Game
Chronicles the lives and fates of a group of Native Americans along the Minnesota/Canada border and the young white man drawn into their world.
257 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1990
69 people want to read
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August 13, 2020
If you have any interest in what it's like to be other, this book is for you. Specifically, the otherness that comes with being Native American (Ojibway and Chippewa in this case) with all its complexity and mystery.
This book, Wayne Johnson's debut, is comprised of 19 chapters, each of which could stand alone as its own poignant, powerful story (and that would explain why many of these chapters were published in Ploughshares, The Atlantic, Story, etc. before this novel was on the shelves). But similar to Elizabeth Strout's Olive Kitteridge, the chapters work together as a novel, featuring characters that link together to form a beautiful whole story.
The writing here is so fine, I'm astounded that I'm the first to write a review of this on Goodreads. So sensitive, so moving, The Snake Game tells the story of three generations of Native Americans living in a remote area called Big Pines, on the Minnesota/Canada border, what shaped them, what broke them, what kept them going. And of an interloper, Martin Sorenson, a white kid who is also "other" among his native peers, but who eventually finds a much-needed place.
Far from sentimental, this novel portrays its subjects and their struggles, as well as the deeply personal clash between native and white people, with unflinching honesty. In the chapter titled "Act of Love", native fishing guide, Dusty, asks a white doctor and his son who want to hear brutal stories of happenings on the reservation:
"How come all you people ever want to hear about is the bad things?"
It came to me in that moment, that Wayne Johnson's readers are just like the doctor and his son in the boat. We want to hear about the bad things. We want to know everything about the otherness. We come to these pages with all our curiosity and ignorance and assumptions, like tacky tourists. Voyeurs, whether we like it or not. Well, thankfully we've come to the right place. Johnson's story does us the undeserved kindness of letting us into this beautiful and complex pain. We have front row seats - to the bad things, the tragic struggle that occurred after many of the old ways were lost. And also to the tender beginnings, the tentative steps forward, the new ways forged each day.
This book, Wayne Johnson's debut, is comprised of 19 chapters, each of which could stand alone as its own poignant, powerful story (and that would explain why many of these chapters were published in Ploughshares, The Atlantic, Story, etc. before this novel was on the shelves). But similar to Elizabeth Strout's Olive Kitteridge, the chapters work together as a novel, featuring characters that link together to form a beautiful whole story.
The writing here is so fine, I'm astounded that I'm the first to write a review of this on Goodreads. So sensitive, so moving, The Snake Game tells the story of three generations of Native Americans living in a remote area called Big Pines, on the Minnesota/Canada border, what shaped them, what broke them, what kept them going. And of an interloper, Martin Sorenson, a white kid who is also "other" among his native peers, but who eventually finds a much-needed place.
Far from sentimental, this novel portrays its subjects and their struggles, as well as the deeply personal clash between native and white people, with unflinching honesty. In the chapter titled "Act of Love", native fishing guide, Dusty, asks a white doctor and his son who want to hear brutal stories of happenings on the reservation:
"How come all you people ever want to hear about is the bad things?"
It came to me in that moment, that Wayne Johnson's readers are just like the doctor and his son in the boat. We want to hear about the bad things. We want to know everything about the otherness. We come to these pages with all our curiosity and ignorance and assumptions, like tacky tourists. Voyeurs, whether we like it or not. Well, thankfully we've come to the right place. Johnson's story does us the undeserved kindness of letting us into this beautiful and complex pain. We have front row seats - to the bad things, the tragic struggle that occurred after many of the old ways were lost. And also to the tender beginnings, the tentative steps forward, the new ways forged each day.
Displaying 1 of 1 review