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3.78 AVERAGE
3.78 AVERAGE
I feel like I’m going to be talking about this one a lot! As the synopsis states, this is not a traditional novel like we’ve come to expect but rather, it presents a powerful slice of slice story that explores a changing community. On top of that the history behind the book itself, the decades of work put in by the author and by the translators, is so impressive to read about. Don’t skip the afterward!
Highly recommend listening to this on audio as well, as sound plays a big part in the author’s storytelling.
Highly recommend listening to this on audio as well, as sound plays a big part in the author’s storytelling.
informative
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
No
The translation felt stiff, it would probably be warmer in the original Inuktitut. It came across as very factual with little character description, it was hard to grow attached to the individuals so the reader feels detached over sad events. More of a subject of literary analysis, not an engaging narrative. The reader needs to keep in mind that it began as a tool to learn Inuktitut vocabulary. Although it teaches a lot of culture, vocabulary, and lifestyle, I would have preferred for more character development and less factual event telling.
emotional
funny
lighthearted
reflective
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Highly recommend listening to this as an audiobook in order to hear the pronunciations of names and words throughout the novel. Each story fits well in audio format as they're relatively quick listens (5-20 minutes each) that can easily be fit into free moments throughout the day.
emotional
funny
informative
reflective
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
No
informative
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
N/A
It’s educational
I couldn't stand the writing of this book.. I was very excited to read it, but there is no world building, no character development, nothing. Just a stream of badly described events. It reads like a report from a 6 year old
challenging
informative
lighthearted
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Une écriture fluide, rapide, active, directe, mais qui manque parfois de profondeur. Par exemple, quand le mari de Sanaaq la bat, la scène est très épurée, voire minimaliste, mais on apprend ensuite qu'il lui a fracturé des os à tel point qu'elle doit être transportée en avion à l'hôpital à deux reprises.
Une première incursion pour moi dans la culture des Inuit. J'ai beaucoup aimé la langue, les descriptions de pêche, de chasse et de vie commune de ce petit groupe de personnes.
Une première incursion pour moi dans la culture des Inuit. J'ai beaucoup aimé la langue, les descriptions de pêche, de chasse et de vie commune de ce petit groupe de personnes.
Saanaq, by Inuk author Mitiarjuk Nappaaluk, has been called the first 'Canadian Inuit novel.' Written over a period of two decades, first in Inuktitut syllabics (published in transliteration in 1984) and later translated into French (published in 2002) and English (2014), it was commissioned by Catholic missionaries working in Nunavut, who wanted to improve their ability to communicate with the indigenous peoples living in the region. What they asked for was a simple phrasebook. What Nappaluk began writing was an episodic novel that, in telling stories about the Inuit people and their lives, served not only as a reading primer but a record of indigenous life in Nunavut and the arrival of Europeans in the area, from the rarely-heard perspective of an indigenous woman.
it is written very simply, in prose that reminds me very much of the storytelling style I've encountered in some other works by indigenous people (some of the short stories of Thomas King cone to mind), and it's a series of short pieces detailing bith the daiky activities and special events of a small, interconnected community of Inuit. The connecting thread is the relationships of all the characters to Saanaq, a young widow who, at the beginning of the novel, lives with her younger unmarried sister and daughter. The time period is somewhere in the middle of the 20th century - the community knows of Europeans, but they have not yet been significantly affected by their arrival in the North, and still live as their ancestors did.
The story behind the novel's creation took many twists and turns. As anthropologist Bernard Saladin d’Anglure - then a post-graduate student working with Claude Levi-Strauss - says in his Introduction,
"... the novel took almost twenty years to write, for several reasons. The first part covered a little over half of the final manuscript. It stopped at the beginning of episode 24 (The Legend of Lumaajuq) because the author had to leave for a long stay at a hospital in the South and then because Father Lechat [the priest who had originally asked Napaaluk to write the phrasebook - bibliogramma] had been transferred to Kuujjuaq (Fort Chimo). Father Joseph Méeus, O.M.I., took over supervision of her work and about forty new pages were written, i.e., episodes 25 to 37. The novel continued to remain unfinished with her return to hospital and the transfer of Father Méeus to another village. Mitiarjuk stopped writing for several years.
I met Father Lechat in January 1956 during my first stay in Arctic Quebec. He welcomed me to Kuujjuaq, offering the hospitality of his mission, and told me about the novel Sanaaq. In his hands was the first part, written in pencil with almost nothing crossed out or added. It had been transliterated into Roman letters, with the author’s help, before he had left Kangirsujuaq, and had also been partially translated. But the spelling of the Inuit language had not yet been standardized and the imprecision of syllabic writing, the lack of punctuation, and the distance from the author made the job impossible for him to pursue. He read me some of the translation and my interest was aroused right away. It was not until 1961 that I finally met Mitiarjuk, during anthropological fieldwork at Kangirsujuaq. I convinced her to start writing again. The next year Father Lechat gave me his manuscript of Sanaaq so that I could work on it with Mitiarjuk."
It was through d'Anglure's ongoing assistance and contacts (and access to academic funding) that the book saw publication. (He used the experience of working with Napaaluk as the basis for his Ph.D dissertation.)
I was struck, in reading this, by the strong sense of community among the families whose stories are included in the novel. They support each other, feed each other, join in hunting and gathering firewood and other resources for each other. Napaaluk describes a life that is semi-nomadic - the community changes their camp's location several times - and focused on subsistence. Food is not just for nourishment, it plays an important social function - when people come to visit each other, they are offered 'arrival meals' as welcome to the new community, and 'going-away meals' when leaving, as recognition of the effort and use of energy in travelling in a difficult landscape. And when someone has been successful in hunting or fishing, it's often the signal for a community feast, with everyone invited to share in the meat from the kill. There are several occasions where hunters and fishers give part of their catch to the elders of the community, because they are not always able to find food for themselves.
In one chapter, in which several elders share legends, there is an exchange which I found unintentionally ironic, and deeply saddening. One if the young hunters, whose parents are dead, is instructed by an elder on how to identify animals that are healthy and thus safe to kill and eat. The young hunter and the elder talk about the role of elders in preserving the knowledge of the people:
"Thank you! I won’t forget any of what you’ve told me and which I didn’t know before. I need to be taught. Those who aren’t elders are less knowledgeable than those who are. Without elders the Inuit are nothing, for there is much knowledge that the elders alone possess!"
"My knowledge comes not from me but from my ancestors. It seems to be mine but, in fact, it comes to me from people who preceded me. I pass it on to all of you, to all of your descendants and all of your kinfolk!"
In the earlier parts of the story, there is little indication of the existence of white Europeans, beyond the use by hunters of guns. As the novel progresses, contacts with Europeans (called the Qallunaat by Sanaaq's people, literally meaning 'big eyebrows) become more frequently mentioned, until finally, the story records the arrival of Catholic missionaries and the first conversions among Sanaaq's community. In reading these passages, it's impossible to forget that Nappaaluk was herself a convert, who wrote the majority of her novel at the request of, and in consultation with, the Catholic priests who had cone to live in her community.
Later in the story, white 'Inuit agents' arrive, and establish an outpost near the area where Sanaaq's community makes their camp. Sanaaq's second husband accepts a contract job of several month's duration working for the Qallunaat at another place. The Inuit agents establish a system of cash payments to the elderly and to families with children, and later there are regular visits to the outpost from a community health nurse. There is now a store where Sanaaq and her relatives can purchase food, cloth, and other goods. The intervention of the Qallunaat is also of significance to the story when first Sanaaq's young son almost drowns, and later, when Sanaaq experiences a violent battering from her husband which leaves her severely injured. The Qallunaat offer to fly her son out to a hospital if he does not recover - which he does - and then does fly Sanaaq to a hospital for treatment of her injuries. Her husband, meanwhile, is cautioned not to beat her again or he will go to jail.
Personal interactions - even sexual relationships - between Inuit and Qallunaat become part of the story of Sanaaq's community. In the later chapters - those written after Nappaaluk had begun to work with d'Anglure rather than the Catholic priests for whom she had begun her work - there are indications of the beginnings of patterns of abuse of the Inuit by Qallunaat sent into the north, although it's uncertain what Nappaaluk felt about the incidents she included.
In Sannaq, Nappaaluk has given us the gift of an account of traditional Inuit life, and of the beginnings of the relationship between Inuit and white settler-colonists in the North, from the viewpoint of an Inuk woman who witnessed the changes herself. It's a rare and precious gift, and I'm richer for having ben able to read it.
it is written very simply, in prose that reminds me very much of the storytelling style I've encountered in some other works by indigenous people (some of the short stories of Thomas King cone to mind), and it's a series of short pieces detailing bith the daiky activities and special events of a small, interconnected community of Inuit. The connecting thread is the relationships of all the characters to Saanaq, a young widow who, at the beginning of the novel, lives with her younger unmarried sister and daughter. The time period is somewhere in the middle of the 20th century - the community knows of Europeans, but they have not yet been significantly affected by their arrival in the North, and still live as their ancestors did.
The story behind the novel's creation took many twists and turns. As anthropologist Bernard Saladin d’Anglure - then a post-graduate student working with Claude Levi-Strauss - says in his Introduction,
"... the novel took almost twenty years to write, for several reasons. The first part covered a little over half of the final manuscript. It stopped at the beginning of episode 24 (The Legend of Lumaajuq) because the author had to leave for a long stay at a hospital in the South and then because Father Lechat [the priest who had originally asked Napaaluk to write the phrasebook - bibliogramma] had been transferred to Kuujjuaq (Fort Chimo). Father Joseph Méeus, O.M.I., took over supervision of her work and about forty new pages were written, i.e., episodes 25 to 37. The novel continued to remain unfinished with her return to hospital and the transfer of Father Méeus to another village. Mitiarjuk stopped writing for several years.
I met Father Lechat in January 1956 during my first stay in Arctic Quebec. He welcomed me to Kuujjuaq, offering the hospitality of his mission, and told me about the novel Sanaaq. In his hands was the first part, written in pencil with almost nothing crossed out or added. It had been transliterated into Roman letters, with the author’s help, before he had left Kangirsujuaq, and had also been partially translated. But the spelling of the Inuit language had not yet been standardized and the imprecision of syllabic writing, the lack of punctuation, and the distance from the author made the job impossible for him to pursue. He read me some of the translation and my interest was aroused right away. It was not until 1961 that I finally met Mitiarjuk, during anthropological fieldwork at Kangirsujuaq. I convinced her to start writing again. The next year Father Lechat gave me his manuscript of Sanaaq so that I could work on it with Mitiarjuk."
It was through d'Anglure's ongoing assistance and contacts (and access to academic funding) that the book saw publication. (He used the experience of working with Napaaluk as the basis for his Ph.D dissertation.)
I was struck, in reading this, by the strong sense of community among the families whose stories are included in the novel. They support each other, feed each other, join in hunting and gathering firewood and other resources for each other. Napaaluk describes a life that is semi-nomadic - the community changes their camp's location several times - and focused on subsistence. Food is not just for nourishment, it plays an important social function - when people come to visit each other, they are offered 'arrival meals' as welcome to the new community, and 'going-away meals' when leaving, as recognition of the effort and use of energy in travelling in a difficult landscape. And when someone has been successful in hunting or fishing, it's often the signal for a community feast, with everyone invited to share in the meat from the kill. There are several occasions where hunters and fishers give part of their catch to the elders of the community, because they are not always able to find food for themselves.
In one chapter, in which several elders share legends, there is an exchange which I found unintentionally ironic, and deeply saddening. One if the young hunters, whose parents are dead, is instructed by an elder on how to identify animals that are healthy and thus safe to kill and eat. The young hunter and the elder talk about the role of elders in preserving the knowledge of the people:
"Thank you! I won’t forget any of what you’ve told me and which I didn’t know before. I need to be taught. Those who aren’t elders are less knowledgeable than those who are. Without elders the Inuit are nothing, for there is much knowledge that the elders alone possess!"
"My knowledge comes not from me but from my ancestors. It seems to be mine but, in fact, it comes to me from people who preceded me. I pass it on to all of you, to all of your descendants and all of your kinfolk!"
In the earlier parts of the story, there is little indication of the existence of white Europeans, beyond the use by hunters of guns. As the novel progresses, contacts with Europeans (called the Qallunaat by Sanaaq's people, literally meaning 'big eyebrows) become more frequently mentioned, until finally, the story records the arrival of Catholic missionaries and the first conversions among Sanaaq's community. In reading these passages, it's impossible to forget that Nappaaluk was herself a convert, who wrote the majority of her novel at the request of, and in consultation with, the Catholic priests who had cone to live in her community.
Later in the story, white 'Inuit agents' arrive, and establish an outpost near the area where Sanaaq's community makes their camp. Sanaaq's second husband accepts a contract job of several month's duration working for the Qallunaat at another place. The Inuit agents establish a system of cash payments to the elderly and to families with children, and later there are regular visits to the outpost from a community health nurse. There is now a store where Sanaaq and her relatives can purchase food, cloth, and other goods. The intervention of the Qallunaat is also of significance to the story when first Sanaaq's young son almost drowns, and later, when Sanaaq experiences a violent battering from her husband which leaves her severely injured. The Qallunaat offer to fly her son out to a hospital if he does not recover - which he does - and then does fly Sanaaq to a hospital for treatment of her injuries. Her husband, meanwhile, is cautioned not to beat her again or he will go to jail.
Personal interactions - even sexual relationships - between Inuit and Qallunaat become part of the story of Sanaaq's community. In the later chapters - those written after Nappaaluk had begun to work with d'Anglure rather than the Catholic priests for whom she had begun her work - there are indications of the beginnings of patterns of abuse of the Inuit by Qallunaat sent into the north, although it's uncertain what Nappaaluk felt about the incidents she included.
In Sannaq, Nappaaluk has given us the gift of an account of traditional Inuit life, and of the beginnings of the relationship between Inuit and white settler-colonists in the North, from the viewpoint of an Inuk woman who witnessed the changes herself. It's a rare and precious gift, and I'm richer for having ben able to read it.
Sanaaq somewhat eschews the definition of the word novel, and would more appropriately be described as a collection of forty eight vignettes about an Inuk woman named Sanaaq and her family and community. The back of the book teases “under it all, the growing intrusion of the Qallunaat and the battle for souls between the Catholic and Anglican missionaries”, as if that’s the major narrative arc of this book, but reading it I found the white man a far less prevalent topic than that blurb suggests. I wonder at that choice of framing and the constant need of white audiences to twist other people’s stories until we are at the center.
Nappaaluk’s writing feels suffused with energy. I don’t know if I’ve ever read a book with more exclamation points per page, and I loved it. (Although of course I don’t know how the two translations may have altered the tone of the original work.) The stories are dominated by dialogue, and I was struck by the way that so much of the book’s descriptions were said aloud by its characters within the stories.
In so many ways this book feels unlike anything else I’ve read before, and I’m grateful to Nappaaluk for sharing her writing and illuminating something of her way of life. One of my most needling questions in reading this work was who Nappaaluk was writing for, who is her target audience? And I think the answer to that question is likely not a single answer. At times it felt like the book was providing explanations for an outsider, at others it felt like it was recording to preserve memories and wisdom for the insiders to a community. One illuminating takeaway from the foreword was that one of Nappaaluk’s goals was transcribing terms and grammatical structures from her language to assist with its study, but that she grew bored with just writing sentences and thus created these characters and their stories. Truly a unique and remarkable book.
Nappaaluk’s writing feels suffused with energy. I don’t know if I’ve ever read a book with more exclamation points per page, and I loved it. (Although of course I don’t know how the two translations may have altered the tone of the original work.) The stories are dominated by dialogue, and I was struck by the way that so much of the book’s descriptions were said aloud by its characters within the stories.
In so many ways this book feels unlike anything else I’ve read before, and I’m grateful to Nappaaluk for sharing her writing and illuminating something of her way of life. One of my most needling questions in reading this work was who Nappaaluk was writing for, who is her target audience? And I think the answer to that question is likely not a single answer. At times it felt like the book was providing explanations for an outsider, at others it felt like it was recording to preserve memories and wisdom for the insiders to a community. One illuminating takeaway from the foreword was that one of Nappaaluk’s goals was transcribing terms and grammatical structures from her language to assist with its study, but that she grew bored with just writing sentences and thus created these characters and their stories. Truly a unique and remarkable book.
informative
medium-paced
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
Yes