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4.03 AVERAGE
4.03 AVERAGE
I feel terrible rating this 2-2.5 stars. I think it comes for me because I had different expectations for this book than what it was. I expected it to be like Absolutely True Diary, but lots of short episodes like that, maybe, some different perspectives. This collection of short stories had some like that. But many of the stories, especially in the second half, were more lyrical and poetic character sketches, or descriptions of someone's experience without actually pin-pointing an event with a traditional plot structure. For this reason, I didn't "get" many of the stories, especially in the second half.
However, I really enjoyed reading the stories, if that makes any sense. I was able to step back and recognize some really fabulous sentences, paragraphs, and passages, and I highlighted many bits throughout the book as mentor texts for me or my students to mimic and write next to.
I don't know if I would recommend this to the casual reader.
However, I really enjoyed reading the stories, if that makes any sense. I was able to step back and recognize some really fabulous sentences, paragraphs, and passages, and I highlighted many bits throughout the book as mentor texts for me or my students to mimic and write next to.
I don't know if I would recommend this to the casual reader.
A fabulous set of short stories, including a few that will probably stick in my brain for a while.
Immediately after finishing this book I started seeking out literary criticism of it. (Here are a few reviews archived from major sources.) While reading, I had so many questions about the overall structure of the book, how the stories were connected. Throughout the first half the main character seems to be Victor, but each story switches whether Victor is in first- or third-person. After "The Trial of Thomas Builds-the-Fire," my confusion broadened. Was Thomas telling the story of the rest of the book? Was the character in "Indian Education" that has juvenile diabetes the same one as in "Witnesses, Secret and Not?" There were small details that seemed to suggest connection to other stories. Unfortunately, trying to figure this out as I read took up a fair amount of my brain's bandwidth. It didn't impact the perspective of the book for me, but after seeing a suggestion by Kirkus Reviews (see previous link) to "stop worrying about who is speaking and choose to listen to the voice of the book itself" I feel perhaps a little foolish.
Another reason I really enjoyed the book was the connection to the northwest—places I know, and people I maybe do not. Situated right between Spokane and Grand Coulee Dam, one character ends up at Gonzaga, mentioning that the school was originally founded to educate tribes but has since come to be populated from people well outside the region. Another character disappears to Arlee for a time, and a gathering in Browning is the setting for at least one scene. I really enjoyed getting to know these characters that Alexie says represent the lives of his immediate and tribal families.
Since this is the first book by Alexie I've read, I'm pretty eager to get to the next on my stack.
Immediately after finishing this book I started seeking out literary criticism of it. (Here are a few reviews archived from major sources.) While reading, I had so many questions about the overall structure of the book, how the stories were connected. Throughout the first half the main character seems to be Victor, but each story switches whether Victor is in first- or third-person. After "The Trial of Thomas Builds-the-Fire," my confusion broadened. Was Thomas telling the story of the rest of the book? Was the character in "Indian Education" that has juvenile diabetes the same one as in "Witnesses, Secret and Not?" There were small details that seemed to suggest connection to other stories. Unfortunately, trying to figure this out as I read took up a fair amount of my brain's bandwidth. It didn't impact the perspective of the book for me, but after seeing a suggestion by Kirkus Reviews (see previous link) to "stop worrying about who is speaking and choose to listen to the voice of the book itself" I feel perhaps a little foolish.
Another reason I really enjoyed the book was the connection to the northwest—places I know, and people I maybe do not. Situated right between Spokane and Grand Coulee Dam, one character ends up at Gonzaga, mentioning that the school was originally founded to educate tribes but has since come to be populated from people well outside the region. Another character disappears to Arlee for a time, and a gathering in Browning is the setting for at least one scene. I really enjoyed getting to know these characters that Alexie says represent the lives of his immediate and tribal families.
Since this is the first book by Alexie I've read, I'm pretty eager to get to the next on my stack.
Review ex-posted on my blog http://bookrants1.blogspot.com:
Sherman Alexie's The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fist Fight in Heaven is a collection of interconnected short stories about Native Americans and reservation life.
What I like best about this work was Alexie's poetic language use in his storytelling. It's crystal clear that storytelling is more than a hobby or even a passion, but a vital piece of heritage. Alexie's prose is beautifully haunted and poignant as he narrates life on a reservation from the point of view of a few of its residents. We get a glimpse (because only a small glimpse is possible into something so vast and deep) into the strength, coverage, and bravery of Native Americans as well as the extreme suffering, injustice, and pain. I'm not much of a poetry person, but Alexie's writing made me gain a better appreciation for the naturally poetic nuances of language.
The main thing that stopped me from loving this book was the format of the novel. I'm not much of a fan of short story collections. Often the disjointed interconnectedness is confusing for me and it makes it hard for me to follow what I'm reading. In the case of The Lone Ranger and Tonto, I was mostly confused by which of the characters were speaking in each given story. In the beginning, it was clear that Victor was the narrator, but for the second half I couldn't figure out who was speaking. It made it difficult for me to fall into the stories. I'm not sure if it was due to not reading closely enough, but even re-reading didn't help.
Going back to the writing--The stories themselves, if I forced myself to see them as unconnected, stand-alone stories, were quite enjoyable. I loved the quiet, unassuming strength of the narrator voices, especially as they used humor as a strong weapon against the many issues in their lives. The comic relief was poignant in highlighting the stark reality, leaving readers with a bitter sweet feelings. By the end, you know that things may not necessarily change for the better, but that the narrators will continue to fight with insurmountable inner strength and heart.
Sherman Alexie's The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fist Fight in Heaven is a collection of interconnected short stories about Native Americans and reservation life.
What I like best about this work was Alexie's poetic language use in his storytelling. It's crystal clear that storytelling is more than a hobby or even a passion, but a vital piece of heritage. Alexie's prose is beautifully haunted and poignant as he narrates life on a reservation from the point of view of a few of its residents. We get a glimpse (because only a small glimpse is possible into something so vast and deep) into the strength, coverage, and bravery of Native Americans as well as the extreme suffering, injustice, and pain. I'm not much of a poetry person, but Alexie's writing made me gain a better appreciation for the naturally poetic nuances of language.
The main thing that stopped me from loving this book was the format of the novel. I'm not much of a fan of short story collections. Often the disjointed interconnectedness is confusing for me and it makes it hard for me to follow what I'm reading. In the case of The Lone Ranger and Tonto, I was mostly confused by which of the characters were speaking in each given story. In the beginning, it was clear that Victor was the narrator, but for the second half I couldn't figure out who was speaking. It made it difficult for me to fall into the stories. I'm not sure if it was due to not reading closely enough, but even re-reading didn't help.
Going back to the writing--The stories themselves, if I forced myself to see them as unconnected, stand-alone stories, were quite enjoyable. I loved the quiet, unassuming strength of the narrator voices, especially as they used humor as a strong weapon against the many issues in their lives. The comic relief was poignant in highlighting the stark reality, leaving readers with a bitter sweet feelings. By the end, you know that things may not necessarily change for the better, but that the narrators will continue to fight with insurmountable inner strength and heart.
I really like the book, and the way that he uses language is beautiful. But the book makes me sad. Not because the stories are sad (though a lot of them are), but because of the stark reality of like on an Indian reservation. It's awful. Not exactly the thing I need to be reading before work, but I can't seem to help myself.
Just before the barbecue Victor pushed the piano halfway across the reservation, up against a pine tree, flexed his muscles, cracked his knuckles, sat down at the keys, and pounded out Bela Bartok. In the long silence after Victor finished his piece, after the beautiful dissonance and implied survival, the Spokane Indians wept, stunned by this strange and familiar music.
"Well," Lester FallsApart said. "It ain't Hank Williams but I know what it means."
Just before the barbecue Victor pushed the piano halfway across the reservation, up against a pine tree, flexed his muscles, cracked his knuckles, sat down at the keys, and pounded out Bela Bartok. In the long silence after Victor finished his piece, after the beautiful dissonance and implied survival, the Spokane Indians wept, stunned by this strange and familiar music.
"Well," Lester FallsApart said. "It ain't Hank Williams but I know what it means."
I didn't think I'd like this book at all upon first impressions, but I ended up really enjoying it a lot. Alexie has a way of allowing the reader to connect with his characters even though they can't directly relate to them.
Alexie's collection of linked short stories is a tale of life on an Indian reservation; it is an exploration of the ways in which Indians deal with the pains and the joys of their lives (storytelling, dance, basketball, food, alcohol); it is a reflection on the relationship between past, present, and future; and it is a meditation on storytelling as a means of bearing witness and as a means of creation and change.
The first story of the collection, "Every Little Hurricane," introduces both the functions of storytelling and the interconnectedness of pain and joy. Told from the perspective of a nine-year-old boy, "Every Little Hurricane" describes a scene at a party in which the young protagonist watches his uncles fight in the yard: "He could see his uncles slugging each other with such force that they had to be in love. Strangers would never want to hurt each other that badly" (2). Immediately, we are shown this connection between hate and love, between the "specific and beautiful" and the "dangerous and random" (5). The young boy, Victor, does not really take part in the action of the story, however. He is merely a witness: "They were all witnesses and nothing more. For hundreds of years, Indians were witnesses to crimes of an epic scale" (3).
The second story, "A Drug Called Tradition," takes up the question of time. Three young Indian men try a new drug together, one that gives them visions of a glorious past (horse stealing, music, dance), only to be warned in the end against the seductive appeal of this past as Thomas tells them "not to slow dance with [their] skeletons" (21). This is explained further: "Your past is a skeleton walking one step behind you, and your future is a skeleton walking one step in front of you" (21) Sometimes these skeletons can trap you or they may try to tempt you, but "what you have to do is keep moving, keep walking, in step with your skeletons. . . . [and] no matter what they do, keep walking, keep moving. And don't wear a watch. Hell, Indians never need to wear a watch because your skeletons will always remind you about the time. See, it is always now. That's what Indian time is. The past, the future, all of it is wrapped up in the now. That's how it is. We are trapped in the now" (22). The past, tradition, can be glorious, Thomas warns the young men, but looking only backward is dangerous; similarly, looking only forward to a potential future is dangerous. Both are dangerous because they prevent a clear vision and an actual experience of the actual, present, real world.
In "Imagining the Reservation," Alexie presents a formula that is key to the entire book. He writes, "Survival = Anger X Imagination. Imagination is the only weapon on the reservation" (150). He notes the limitations of imagination, asking, "Does every Indian depend on Hollywood for a twentieth-century vision?" (151) and "How can we imagine a new language when the language of the enemy keeps our dismembered tongues tied to his belt? How can we imagine a new alphabet when the old jumps off billboards down into our stomachs?" (152). But he also ends the story with a call for more imagination, for imagination that has concrete results:
"There are so many possibilities in the reservation, 7-11, so many methods of survival. Imagine every Skin on the reservation is the new lead guitarist for the Rolling Stones, on the cover of a rock-and-roll magazine. Imagine forgiveness is sold 2 for 1. Imagine every Indian is a video game with braids. Do you believe laughter can save us? All I know is that I count coyotes to help me sleep. Didn't you know? Imagination is the politics of dreams; imagination turns every word into a bottle rocket. Adrian, imagine every day is Independence Day and save us from traveling the river changed; save us from hitchhiking the long road home. Imagine an escape. Imagine that your own shadow on the wall is a perfect door. Imagine a song stronger than penicillin. Imagine a spring with water that mends broken bones. Imagine a drum which wraps itself around your heart. Imagine a story that puts wood in the fireplace." (152-3)
The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fist Fight in Heaven is a book that is not without hope, but it is a hope that is thoroughly aware of what has lost that cannot be regained and of what losses may be sustained in the future. It is a hope that dares not look into the future at the expense of the present or the past. Alexie writes in the final story, "Witnesses, Secret and Not," that "sometimes it seems like all Indians can do is talk about the disappeared" (222), asking "at what point do we just re-create the people who have disappeared from our lives?" (222). At what point is the storytelling and the memory a new creation and what is the cost of this memory and this creation? Imagination--the key component of both this kind of memory and of storytelling--he seems to say, is both a burden and a tool.
The first story of the collection, "Every Little Hurricane," introduces both the functions of storytelling and the interconnectedness of pain and joy. Told from the perspective of a nine-year-old boy, "Every Little Hurricane" describes a scene at a party in which the young protagonist watches his uncles fight in the yard: "He could see his uncles slugging each other with such force that they had to be in love. Strangers would never want to hurt each other that badly" (2). Immediately, we are shown this connection between hate and love, between the "specific and beautiful" and the "dangerous and random" (5). The young boy, Victor, does not really take part in the action of the story, however. He is merely a witness: "They were all witnesses and nothing more. For hundreds of years, Indians were witnesses to crimes of an epic scale" (3).
The second story, "A Drug Called Tradition," takes up the question of time. Three young Indian men try a new drug together, one that gives them visions of a glorious past (horse stealing, music, dance), only to be warned in the end against the seductive appeal of this past as Thomas tells them "not to slow dance with [their] skeletons" (21). This is explained further: "Your past is a skeleton walking one step behind you, and your future is a skeleton walking one step in front of you" (21) Sometimes these skeletons can trap you or they may try to tempt you, but "what you have to do is keep moving, keep walking, in step with your skeletons. . . . [and] no matter what they do, keep walking, keep moving. And don't wear a watch. Hell, Indians never need to wear a watch because your skeletons will always remind you about the time. See, it is always now. That's what Indian time is. The past, the future, all of it is wrapped up in the now. That's how it is. We are trapped in the now" (22). The past, tradition, can be glorious, Thomas warns the young men, but looking only backward is dangerous; similarly, looking only forward to a potential future is dangerous. Both are dangerous because they prevent a clear vision and an actual experience of the actual, present, real world.
In "Imagining the Reservation," Alexie presents a formula that is key to the entire book. He writes, "Survival = Anger X Imagination. Imagination is the only weapon on the reservation" (150). He notes the limitations of imagination, asking, "Does every Indian depend on Hollywood for a twentieth-century vision?" (151) and "How can we imagine a new language when the language of the enemy keeps our dismembered tongues tied to his belt? How can we imagine a new alphabet when the old jumps off billboards down into our stomachs?" (152). But he also ends the story with a call for more imagination, for imagination that has concrete results:
"There are so many possibilities in the reservation, 7-11, so many methods of survival. Imagine every Skin on the reservation is the new lead guitarist for the Rolling Stones, on the cover of a rock-and-roll magazine. Imagine forgiveness is sold 2 for 1. Imagine every Indian is a video game with braids. Do you believe laughter can save us? All I know is that I count coyotes to help me sleep. Didn't you know? Imagination is the politics of dreams; imagination turns every word into a bottle rocket. Adrian, imagine every day is Independence Day and save us from traveling the river changed; save us from hitchhiking the long road home. Imagine an escape. Imagine that your own shadow on the wall is a perfect door. Imagine a song stronger than penicillin. Imagine a spring with water that mends broken bones. Imagine a drum which wraps itself around your heart. Imagine a story that puts wood in the fireplace." (152-3)
The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fist Fight in Heaven is a book that is not without hope, but it is a hope that is thoroughly aware of what has lost that cannot be regained and of what losses may be sustained in the future. It is a hope that dares not look into the future at the expense of the present or the past. Alexie writes in the final story, "Witnesses, Secret and Not," that "sometimes it seems like all Indians can do is talk about the disappeared" (222), asking "at what point do we just re-create the people who have disappeared from our lives?" (222). At what point is the storytelling and the memory a new creation and what is the cost of this memory and this creation? Imagination--the key component of both this kind of memory and of storytelling--he seems to say, is both a burden and a tool.
Book 18 of 2015: 3/5 stars
I think that Sherman Alexie is an incredible writer. His way of writing about the Spokane Indian reservation is poetic but harshly true, harshly human. These are LIVES. Lives that were screwed over and are still suffering, if in new ways. There's plenty of alcoholism, little hope, and many young lives that don't go anywhere at all, except back to the reservation again and again. For me the stories all bled together. Though the stories had their differences they felt exactly the same. That was probably the point. After a while it's hard to read something again again. But that was probably the point.
I think that Sherman Alexie is an incredible writer. His way of writing about the Spokane Indian reservation is poetic but harshly true, harshly human. These are LIVES. Lives that were screwed over and are still suffering, if in new ways. There's plenty of alcoholism, little hope, and many young lives that don't go anywhere at all, except back to the reservation again and again. For me the stories all bled together. Though the stories had their differences they felt exactly the same. That was probably the point. After a while it's hard to read something again again. But that was probably the point.
sherman alexie is the first real author i ever saw in person. i don't know if he read from this or not, i don't even know if i've read this before. i think maybe not, because otherwise i might remember that steptoe butte is apparently named after an asshole.
Before I begin this review, it's necessary to acknowledge the allegations that Sherman Alexie assaulted multiple women (which he says are true,) and say that I believe these women. I also acknowledge the ways in which this and other behavior has impacted the publishing of stories about Native people, and encourage folks to read books by Native authors other than Alexie (especially Native women); I'm happy to offer recommendations if people need them.
These stories paint a specific world and it's fascinating to move through it and see the ways in which they interact and contradict, that they aren't always in the same "world" (in the sense of a continuity) but contain many similar characters. It's also clearly a book written in a specific time by a person thinking about his relationship to specific things; this edition came with a preface/introduction that I a dialogue where Alexie explores some recurring themes and I think it's fairly clear that these stories are a product of that time of his life. I can see how it would be powerful for folks to read and consider; and it is certainly a world he has created here, or variations on it, without relying on a novel-structure sense of continuity.
These stories paint a specific world and it's fascinating to move through it and see the ways in which they interact and contradict, that they aren't always in the same "world" (in the sense of a continuity) but contain many similar characters. It's also clearly a book written in a specific time by a person thinking about his relationship to specific things; this edition came with a preface/introduction that I a dialogue where Alexie explores some recurring themes and I think it's fairly clear that these stories are a product of that time of his life. I can see how it would be powerful for folks to read and consider; and it is certainly a world he has created here, or variations on it, without relying on a novel-structure sense of continuity.