Books : The Game of Silence

Rating: - A way of life
Omakakeyens. A young girl's name. A name that is a signpost that you are entering a way of life far from your own. Her days are filled with her family, their way of life within the pattern of the seasons, a relationship to all living and growing things around them.

This is the 2nd of what is now 3 books. First, Birchbark House where we first read of Omakakeyens, I think about 6 or 7 years old, and her Ojibwa family at the turn of the century. This book follows as she grows up in northern Minnesota, with the just released Porcupine Years as the story continues. They are filled with love and humor; you can put them down but you don't want to. I have all three to give my granddaughter, but not until I've read them.

Louise Erdrich gives sentences, paragraphs, that take my breath away. Her books are true treasures, deserving of all the awards they have received.

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Rating: - Another Erdrich Novel for Young Adults
The Game of Silence by Louise Erdrich (HarperCollins, 2005); Where the Great Hawk Flies by Liza Ketchum (Clarion Books/Houghton-Mifflin, 2005).

Considering the depiction of Native Americans in books, so much has changed since I was the age of our twelve-year-old daughter.

In several new books for young readers, the narrative vantage point has been very decisively shifted to place native characters in the point-of-view position, in the center of events instead of serving as "colorful" parts of the scenery. I've recently read aloud to our daughter Lillian two new young adult novels with Native American themes, Louise Erdrich's The Game of Silence (HarperCollins, 2005) and Liza Ketchum's Where the Great Hawk Flies (Clarion/Houghton-Mifflin, 2005).

At about Lillian's age I read James Fenimore Cooper's The Last of the Mohicans, and I strongly recall the ache I felt in response to Cooper's elegiac, grandly romantic evocation of the "noble" Chingachgook, who appeared to be in Cooper's view inseparable from the strange and sublime new American landscape. As an outdoorsy suburban Boy Scout, I couldn't help but see woodsman and trapper Natty Bumppo as an exemplary white ambassador to the Indians.

Along with Cooper's portrayal of close companionship between an immigrant frontiersman and aboriginal chieftain, I imbibed from that book a desolate, lump-in-the-throat sense of traditional Indians as an endangered species, remnants of a society too fragile to withstand the onslaught of the Europeans' well-armed civilizing force.

In the popular media, depictions of Native Americans continue to wobble or careen between positive (dignified, sensitive, stoic, ecological) and negative (brutal, aloof, lethal, voracious for alcohol), yet in contemporary literature for children and young adults, the native characters (as is also true of African Americans) are now usually portrayed in far more complimentary ways. While in all earnestness, some authors create stories that seem too didactic in seeking to compensate for the stereotypes of the past, these new books of Erdrich and Ketchum offer writing for younger readers that is enjoyable as well as challenging, and historically complex.

Erdrich is the author of nine novels for adults, two collections of essays, and three collections of poetry along with two children's books and a previous young adult novel, The Birchbark House (nominated for a National Book Award in 1999), to which the new novel The Game of Silence is a sequel.

It's not easy to summarize the differences between the volcanically talented Erdrich's books for adults and those for younger readers. The former are more erotic and more violent, with a fabulous flexibility about conventional definitions of "realism," and an intensely metamorphic use of language, with surges of imagery born in dreams and hallucinations. Yet in other respects Erdrich's way of crossing the page is unmistakable, in any genre.

As Lillian pointed out when I asked her about what makes a good young adult novel, the most obvious difference is that the narrator -- the active, witnessing consciousness of a story's events -- is usually a child or teenager. The tenor and tempo of the narrator's voice is therefore different, and in a successful young adult novel the voice is convincing, evocative and flushed with personality, not an adult's idea of how younger people sound.

Erdrich's young adult books are never simplistic as they explore tremendously difficult experiences, including European-borne epidemics, which decimated native communities throughout the eighteenth and nineteenth century. It's certainly noteworthy that when writing for younger readers Erdrich never resorts to a "special" tone or style, like certain adults who adopt condescending mannerisms when talking to kids. The Birchbark House and The Game of Silence are as serious in scope and as beautifully written as any reader of Erdrich's adult books would hope.

As with its predecessor, the setting of The Game of Silence is a mid-nineteenth-century Ojibwe community on an island in the lake Gitchi-Igaming, eventually known as Lake Superior. In both books, the main character is Omakayas (or Little Frog, "because her first step is a hop"), who is idiosyncratic and multi-dimensional, like classic literary girls such as Brink's Caddie Woodlawn, Montgomery's Anne of Green Gables, Wilder's Laura and Mary, Dorothy Canfield Fisher's Betsy, and Alcott's March sisters in Little Women.

A substantial pleasure in Erdrich's Omakayas books is their portrayal of daily life among the Ojibwe, who are related in language and in their seasonal subsistence-cycle (summertime agriculture, autumn fishing and gathering, wintertime deer hunting, and spring maple-sugaring) to the Abenaki people of "Wabaniak" or northern New England and Quebec, our own region. While Omakayas and her family are beginning to see the ripple effects of changes in the east, for instance in the arrival of native refugees fleeing colonial seizure of their traditional homelands and the horrific diseases that precede the settlers themselves, readers are given at least a glimpse of the complicated societies that existed prior to the coming of Europeans.

Even more so than in The Birchbark House, in The Game of Silence Erdrich incorporates Ojibwe words and phrases, deftly translating them within her English sentences and also including a wonderful glossary that also can be read through for its own delights. As described in another of her recent books, Books and Islands in Ojibwe Country (National Geographic Directions, 2003), Erdrich has been painstakingly learning her ancestral language, and the steady presence of another language in The Game of Silence changes the sound, the texture, and the perspective of the story.

Another ingredient in classic literature for younger readers is illustrations, and like The Birchbark House, The Game of Silence features Erdrich's lovely pencil drawings, accompanying her image-rich prose as a visual counterpoint.

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Rating: - More Please!
the continuing saga of omakayas and her family draws you in and keeps you close. Several of my 5th graders read the book together and immediately asked to read the sequel. When told that it hadn't yet been published, they were dashed, and anxoius for its release. I find it poetic and beautiful, and they are hooked by the story. A teacher's dream...

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Rating: - Newbery? This one merits your attention.
This is the sequel to The Birchbark House. Like its predecessor, it transpires in the Ojibwe tribe's mid 19th century home on one of the Great Lakes and on the family of Omakayas, the middle child of three `siblings'. (Siblings is like that because of what happened in Birchbark House.) Also like Birchbark House, this one is a charming blend of historical fiction and clear, lovingly drawn, appealing characters. A young reader will benefit greatly from seeing the westward movement of white people through Native American eyes, and do that within the context of a most enjoyable story with endearing characters and emotionally accessible events, plus they'll get a smattering of Ojibwe language and its culture. Well worth giving to your middle school reader.

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Rating: - The rest is silence
No one becomes a children's librarian in the hopes of someday striking it rich. We all do it for our separate, twisted, obscure little reasons that probably have their roots somewhere in our youth. I did it partly because I realized that I wasn't cut out to be an archival librarian (the moment of inspiration came when my husband pointed out that I'd set my coffee cup down on my conservation textbook) and partly for two little words: readers advisory. I love recommending good books to good readers. I love recommending good books to bad readers. I love recommending good books period. And if I were to calculate the most frequently cited question I get on the children's room floor it might be, "My child loves the Laura Ingalls Wilder books. What else can you recommend?". Now until now my instinct was to grab "The Birchbark House" by Louise Erdrich and thrust it into the waiting patron's arms. Now, unfortunately, I have a choice to make. "The Birchbark House" is good, yes. But its sequel, "The Game of Silence" is even better. How can I go about not recommending the sequel before its predecessor? I can't. Just the same, "The Game of Silence" does not absolutely require that "The Birchbark House" be read in order to understand the following story. It stands on its own beautifully and it shouldn't be any wonder to anyone that it garnered itself the 2006 Scott O'Dell Award for historical fiction. It undoubtedly deserved it.

Having survived the smallpox plague of 1847, Omakayas still mourns the loss of her little baby brother, but keeps her spirit strong. Good thing too. A band of raggedy homeless people have arrived in the girl's Ojibwe camp and her good tribe takes them in immediately. Amongst the people is a baby, its mother long gone, and the perfect remedy for the hole in Omakayas's family's heart. Word has reached the tribe that the white settlers are forcing all Native Americans to move farther west despite a treaty made years ago. To verify the truth behind this rumor and to see whether it was the whites who broke their word or the Natives, four men are sent from the camp to discover the truth. In the time that it takes the men to get back (the span of one year) we watch Omakayas's adventures and traditions. As time goes one, however, it becomes clear that change is imminent and that Omakayas must allow herself to go into the woods to seek the spirits that have given her so much knowledge in the past. What she sees may make all the difference in how she lives the rest of her life.

Though I'd enjoyed "The Birchbark House" I was reluctant to read its sequel immediately. No matter how well read a children's librarian might be, it's very difficult to voluntarily read books in a genre that you yourself avoided like the plague as a child. In my case, historical fiction. I decided not to read this book simply because I'd read the first one and probably knew exactly what to expect with this sequel. Then it started appearing on all the Best Books of the Year lists. And then Roger Sutton (editor of Horn Book Magazine) started singing its praises to the skies. About the time people started murmuring the words "Newbery" and "Game of Silence" in the same breath I knew I had to give in and read it. Thank God for that. Having honed her skills already on everything from picture books to adult novels, Erdrich has sketched out a perfect tale. Characters grow and change and know one another better by the story's end.

I've always had a weakness for Erdrich's pencil illustrations, thinking them as essential a complement to her stories as Garth Williams's were to the "Little House" books. In this story Erdrich uses them to their fullest effect. Pinch, Omakayas's mischievous little sprite of a brother, is rendered here in all his round spiky-haired cheerfulness. Though he annoys those he loves past all endurance, you're just as enamored of the little guy as his doting mother and frustrated (but amused) siblings. There was one picture in the batch that I found a mite bit confusing, of course. In the chapter "Fish Soup" we see a picture of Twilight (Omakayas's cousin) gutting a fish with her hair in two pigtails above her head. Oddly enough, she seems to be wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt of a particularly modern design. It's a cute little image but if the shirt isn't made of 100% cotton then Erdrich probably should have made that clearer. As it stands it seems like a very odd discrepancy in the midst of otherwise historically accurate pictures.

In every novel there's an odd little moment here or a word there that strikes the reader as funny. For me it was the moment when Old Tallow, the warrior woman who hunts with a pack of trained dogs at her side, says that when she fell down a cliff she, "pitched ears over butt all the way to the bottom". Butt? Interesting word choice there. Still, it gets the message across. And for every little quirk in the tale there are three times as many small instances of writing perfection. As Old Tallow has a rotted finger chopped off and scalded closed (it sounds more violent than it actually plays out) Omakayas sees only a single tear fall from the woman's eye. Later, the girl, "wished she'd caught that tear. It was rare. Probably, it was the only tear Old Tallow had ever shed". Even better are sections that discuss Pinch's fish catching skills. Though his traps look like beavers' nests and his decoy the oddest shaped fish anyone has ever seen, time and again Pinch catches more fishies than anyone else. "The fish that Pinch carved was apparently the most delicious-looking fish in the world". In this way Erdrich weaves that ever necessary thread of loving humor into her books. You can be meaningful all day and bore children to tears or you can dot the text with funny and very real moments of childhood and end up with an even better book. Erdritch opts for the latter.

Here's what I love about the stories of Omakayas. They're actually interesting to kids. There are great snowball fights, snow houses, contests, and examples of kids playing in realistic ways. At the same time they're historically accurate and though they never downplay the horror of colonization, neither do they wallow in misery and woe. These books show characters proud of their ancestry who are precious to their readers because they seem so very real. People complain all the time about how depressing good books are to kids sometimes (ala "The Bridge to Terebithia"). Fine. Let's have them all read "The Game of Silence" in school instead. You'd be hard pressed to find a book half as wise and a quarter as amusing. I could probably go on and on and on about it (which is a relief after reviewing some books that take all my energy to find words to describe) but I'll just leave you with the knowledge that this is undoubtedly one of the best books to come out in years and years. A bloody brilliant piece of work.