Not (Just) (An)Other

Not (Just) (An)Other is the first volume in the “Sovereign Traces” series. Although this volume was published in 2018 by the Michigan State University Press (MSU), Manitoba writer and academic Niigaanwewidam James Sinclair first proposed the graphic literature concept at a 2013 Native American Literature Symposium. As indicated in the above pull-quote, some of the literary material in this compilation has been previously published while others are new material created for inclusion in this work. A multi-sourced collection, once the written content had been assembled, finding artists and illustrators who could provide the visual content was a challenge met by Beth LaPensée, an award-winning designer, artist, and academic, who has contributed to a variety of Indigenous-focused graphic materials. Editor Gordon Henry Jr. is a poet, novelist, and a senior editor of the American Indian Studies Series. Not (Just) (An) Other is a truly collaborative effort, not only as a result of the Henry and LaPenseé’s work, but also through the joint efforts of the nine authors and graphic artists/colorists whose works comprise this book.

Although familiar with the writings of three of the books’s contributors (Canadian writers , Niigaanwewidam James Sinclair and Richard Van Camp, as well as American novelist, Louse Erdrich), I was certainly a “new audience” for the works of the other six contributors. Stereotyping is explored in a rather unusual way in Stephen Graham Jones’ “Werewolves on the Moon”, the story of an atypical parent-teacher conference in which parent, child, and teacher struggle against preconceived ideas about each other and about societal expectations about Indigenous peoples, and/or . . . werewolves. The silencing of traditional language that was part of the residential experience is just one of the many trials suffered by the protagonist in Gordon Henry Jr.’s “The Prisoner of Haiku”. His story is a reminder of the sad legacy of the residential school system, whether in Canada or the United States.

Warren Cariou’s “An Athabasca Story” is a cautionary tale about the danger of resource exploitation as well as being an exploration of two vastly different perspectives about the land. Elder Brother is hungry and cold, his stomach rattling inside him as he trudges through the winter snows. Suddenly, he smells the “bitter smoke” of burnt tar sand, not the “sweet pine fire he had been imagining.” (p. 45) Continuing to walk, he finds himself outside a chain-link fence enclosing a tar sands mining operation. Scaling the fence, he sees the huge trucks scraping out the tar sand, taking it to the installation where the oil is extracted, refined, piped, and ultimately, burned. Elder Brother politely requests shelter and warmth, but he is rudely dismissed by a racist machine operator; the two men hold vastly different perspectives about the land and its resources. The machine operator views the land as “owned” and to be exploited while Elder Brother believes that “the land belongs to everyone”, and, in revenge, he burrows into a bank of tar sand and steals some of the “precious dirt” (p. 51). But the land protests and punishes Elder Brother, and he is scooped up and taken to the refinery. Still, his spirit lives on, in the rattling sound of a car’s engine, like the rattle of an empty stomach.

Richard van Camp’s Mermaids brings together a number of strands: the AIDS crisis within the Indigenous community, greed, the value of traditional spirituality, and of finding family in whatever form that may take. It’s brilliantly illustrated by Scott B. Henderson and coloured by Donovan Yaciuk whose work has appeared in a number of other graphic novels having a First Nations focus. There are two “trickster” stories in this collection: Gerald Vizenor’s “Ice Tricksters” and Niigaanwewidam James Sinclair’s “Trickster Reflections”, both of which are illustrated by GMB Chomichuk. Ice Tricksters begins with the narrator speaking of his Uncle Clement, a storyteller whose nickname is “Almost”, because it’s “his favorite word in stories. . . Almost never told lies, but he used the word almost to stretch the truth like a tribal trickster. . . The trickster is almost a free spirit.” (p. 33) The tale which follows is the story of seeking a block of ice in order to carve it and win an ice sculpture contest -- on July the Fourth. It’s a strange tale, with unexpected twists and turns, a tale of “the almost world . . . a better world than the world we are taught to understand in school.” (p. 33)

However, Sinclair’s Trickster Reflections is a much darker story. It begins with a little boy, “alone, waiting on the curb for his father to come and pick him up”, hearing the trickster’s laugh: “Hee hee hee heeeeee. Hee hee hee.” (p. 57) Time passes, and the little boy becomes a young man. The trickster is described by the instructor in a class on Native American mythology, as “an inchoate being of undetermined proportions, a figure foreshadowing the shape of man.” (p. 58) The young man’s girlfriend believes that tricksters are the stuff of stories, but, if the trickster really exists, it might be “beautiful. . . . fun, smart and powerful” (p. 59) rather than the crude creature of his exprience. Over time, the trickster becomes more sinister, more powerful, and more destructive. And, at the end, by having shared his story, the narrator understands that the trickster is within him.

This collection features re-envisioned poems by two very well-known women: Louise Erdrich and Joy Harjo. Both draw upon Native American mythology for their poems, “The Strange People” and “Deer Dancer”. “The Strange People” begins with a medicine woman’s retelling of the mythology of the antelope, creatures which are beautiful yet untrustworthy. “They appear and disappear; they are like shadows on the plains. Because of their great beauty, young men sometimes follow the antelope and are lost forever. Even if those foolish ones find themselves and return, they are never again right in their heads.” (p. 69) The poem, told from the persona of an antelope, is given a further dimension with Elizabeth’s LaPensée’s powerfully rendered illustrations which combine line drawings against textured photographic backgrounds. The illustrations of Joy Harjo’s “Deer Dancer” are quite different; the roughness of existence at the Deer Lodge bar, “the bar of broken survivors, the club of the shotgun, knife wound, of poison by culture” (p. 76) is underscored by drawings which depict the harshness of lives of the bar’s habitués.

The collection concludes with Gwen Nell Westerman’s “Just Another Naming Ceremony”, a story of a book signing event attended by an Indigenous actor named Michael Hill. He’s working the room, looking for someone called “Eagle Hat” who, he hopes, can help him find a new, Indigenous name, one which will increase his marketability in the film business. The function is held in a library where Native American art is on display (each piece is, in fact, a depiction of a real work of art, created by a First Nations artist), and it’s one of those events where people go to be seen, to network, and to promote themselves. There’s a neat ironic reversal at the end; after being introduced to two men, Earl Griswald and Neil Travis, Michael Hill leaves the event, failing to remember their names and saying goodbye to “Tom” (Earl) and “Jim” (Neil). It turns out that “Jim” is “Eagle Hat”, but he “didn’t feel like handin’ out a name today.” (p.102) A naming ceremony is something to be taken seriously.

As a non-Indigenous reader, and I found that some of the stories in this collection demanded many readings in order for me to make sense of them. Each work in this collection was unique, and some readers might find that this lack of continuity to be a problem. I found, as well, that my lack of familiarity with Indigenous story-telling traditions and the Indigenous mythology underpinning some of the selections (notably, Joy Harjo’s “Deer Dancer”) made me feel as if I was missing something crucial to my reading of these selections.

This collection is an ambitious one, and a great deal of very hard work has gone into its production. It is sophisticated in content and presentation, and its intended audience is probably post-secondary although secondary students in grade 12 with an interest in or knowledge of Indigenous story telling tradition and mythology might find it accessible to them. Published at the MSU (Michigan State University) Press, Canadian content is represented by writers Warren Cariou, Niigaanwewidam James Sinclair, Richard Van Camp and by illustrators and colourists, Nicholas Burns, CMB Chomichuk, Scott B. Henderson, and Donovan Yaciuk. While extensive biographical information was provided for most of the writers, I was rather disappointed that the significant work of the illustrators and colorists did not receive the same level of credit.

I think that Not (Just) (An)Other can be used as a supplementary text in the teaching of Indigenous literature at the Grade 12 level, although teachers would have to look at the text very carefully at the text determine how they might use it and whether or not it would work for their students.

It’s a mature work (yes, there’s some profanity, and some “adult” content), and, although presented in “comic” format, it’s not a collection accessible to all readers.