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4.24 AVERAGE
4.24 AVERAGE
What struck me about this book was that it was not about the genocidal machine of Indian Residential Schools. There are a few references to the violence (both officially acceptable, in the form of corporal punishment, and officially unacceptable, in the form of child rape) that those schools made central and unavoidable, to the extent that they were the engine of colonization: destroying the children to destroy the people in order to stifle resistance to the theft of their land.
Instead, this is a story whose chief concerns are in framing young Chanie Wenjack as an agent decolonizin himself by any means necessary--first by escaping from the prison of the "school" in which he was interned, and then by recalling his language as he goes. The story's increasing reliance on Anishinaabe vocabulary to show Chanie coming into greater and greater contact with the land and the animals watching him is one of its strongest points, as is Boyden's effective capturing the rhythm of English spoken as a second language by a mother-tongue Anishinaabe speaker. As sad as this story is, it is also a story about a boy strong enough to escape the bonds of genocide and colonization and return to the land, animals, and language of his ancestors, all of which the schools existed to destroy in him. The ending is unavoidably tragic but in reframing it as returning Chanie to the company of the animal spirits, Boyden makes a nod toward placing Anishinaabe traditions on a higher level than the farce of murderous Christianity as it was used to pacify complex millennia-old societies to steal from and destroy them. I respect that about this book. The things that I've had problems with in Boyden's novels are not present here: this strikes me as respectful to Chanie, his legacy, and above all the power and importance of his and his ancestors' systems of understanding and participating in the life and spirit of the land.
Instead, this is a story whose chief concerns are in framing young Chanie Wenjack as an agent decolonizin himself by any means necessary--first by escaping from the prison of the "school" in which he was interned, and then by recalling his language as he goes. The story's increasing reliance on Anishinaabe vocabulary to show Chanie coming into greater and greater contact with the land and the animals watching him is one of its strongest points, as is Boyden's effective capturing the rhythm of English spoken as a second language by a mother-tongue Anishinaabe speaker. As sad as this story is, it is also a story about a boy strong enough to escape the bonds of genocide and colonization and return to the land, animals, and language of his ancestors, all of which the schools existed to destroy in him. The ending is unavoidably tragic but in reframing it as returning Chanie to the company of the animal spirits, Boyden makes a nod toward placing Anishinaabe traditions on a higher level than the farce of murderous Christianity as it was used to pacify complex millennia-old societies to steal from and destroy them. I respect that about this book. The things that I've had problems with in Boyden's novels are not present here: this strikes me as respectful to Chanie, his legacy, and above all the power and importance of his and his ancestors' systems of understanding and participating in the life and spirit of the land.
Mostly a sad story of death, rewaking us to our task, this is also a poetic tribute to a boy who just longed to be home, and in the meantime found himself joined with creation. Grievously, "the only thing the school he's run away from has taught him is how to be fearful of adults" (52).
This tiny 97 page novella packs in an enormous amount of knowledge. Boyden's retelling of Chanie Wenjack's real escape from an Indian Residential School in Ontario in 1966 is filled with Indigenous teachings. Told through the eyes of the animal spirits who watch Chanie as he makes his way off the school grounds, into the thick bush and eventually onto the railroad tracks, we learn the ways of the natural creatures on this unforgiving land as they watch his doomed attempt to find home and freedom. After being forcibly removed from his home three years earlier, twelve year old Chanie tries to remember his Anishinaabe language and his father's teachings about the land but too much has been lost at the school - language, innocence, trust. Boyden's gifted prose speaks with the voice of a child but with the wisdom of the Manitou. I found that I was ever hopeful of Chanie's return to home despite knowing the outcome of this tragic story.
This is a beautifully told, beautifully illustrated, beautiful tribute to Chanie whose story needs to be heard over and over again until we truly understand.
This is a beautifully told, beautifully illustrated, beautiful tribute to Chanie whose story needs to be heard over and over again until we truly understand.
A super impactful read for such a short novella. It definitely begs multiple reads, and is both heartbreaking and, I think, a little hopeful. It shines a light on horrible events in history, and yet makes it incredibly personal. Definitely recommend this as a must read for everyone.
Haunting, beautiful, devastating. Canadians can't sit back smugly like we're above things like racism when we have this horrifying history of residential schools. Boyden takes the tragic story of Chanie Wenjack and in a story simply but exquisitely told, shows us how a country's complicity could lead to the death of many, many innocent lives.
challenging
dark
emotional
informative
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Heartbreaking and brilliant, it is such an important story, told truthfully yet tenderly, with great care and respect. I urge everyone to read this, it is in fact a masterpiece.