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scmiller's review against another edition
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
funny
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
medium-paced
5.0
Content Warnings
Graphic: Alcoholism, Classism, Medical trauma, Drug abuse, Addiction, Death, Murder, Drug use, Mental illness, Medical content, Abandonment, Alcohol, and Grief
Moderate: Body horror, Violence, Injury/Injury detail, Ableism, Child death, Car accident, and Vomit
Minor: Blood, Adult/minor relationship, and Colonisation
careinthelibrary's review against another edition
emotional
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
Richard Wagamese never disappoints. I have so many quotes saved from this beautiful novel. There are some outdated depictions of gender and some racist undertones to characterizations (see content warnings for more specifics). If you can read past these, it's a special story of rebirth, remembrance, and friendship.
I love what this book has to say about change. Change in our circumstances, change in our relationship to community, change in our hearts. It's never too late to change and no one is ever "too far gone." This is a myth sold to us so we stop seeing inaction as a crime.
Here are some quotes that particularly resonated with me:
“Me, I retreated into silence. The nuns all thought me slow and backward because of my silence but they had no idea how well I was learning their ways and their language. I did everything they asked of me in a slow, methodical way, uncomplaining and silent. I gave them nothing back because all I knew was the vast amount they had taken from me, robbed me of, cheated me out of, all in the name of a God whose son bore the long hair none of us were allowed to wear anymore. The coldness inside me was complete after Harley died, and what I had left of my life, of me, I was unwilling to give up to anyone. I drifted through the next our years as silent as a bank of snow. A February snow.”
“It amazed me. One day earlier, sitting in the same park with the same mickey in my pocket would have earned me a phone call to the police in this neighbourhood. But today, showered, shaved, and dressed expensively, I had become a sir. What had the soap washed off, I wondered? What did the clothes cover? What did the plastic bank card in my pocket buy me that I didn’t know I’d purchased? It felt strange. Despite the six hundred dollars on my body, the twenty-dollar Scotch in my pocket, the tailor-made cigarettes, and the key to a suite in a fancy hotel, I was still the same man. Nothing had changed but my appearance. I sat and laughed at the joke. All the sirs and all the politeness, all the nods, small salutes, and other signs of inclusion couldn’t hide the fact that I was still a ragged man inside, still a rounder, still more street than neighbourhood, still on a park bench alone while the world happened around me.
"When I'm in the library, surrounded by all those volumes, all the stacks, I feel like I'm in the company of a great many friends. Friends who never leave and friends who are always there when you need them to offer comfort and warmth. I feel anchored there."
"It was all about pain. It was all about those things you can't understand in life. The things that should be so simple but never are. Like feelings. Like hope. Like love. I guess love sometimes doesn't have the most gracious vocabulary. It can't. It can't because it comes from the deepest part of us, the part that never sees the light until love itself calls it out of us, and when you live the way we lived for so long your ears aren't attuned to the sound of love so you never learn to talk its language. You learn pain's vocabulary, though. Very well. That was the language spoken in the living room that night. Pain's talk. Love's talk, really, dressed up in anguish clothes."
I love what this book has to say about change. Change in our circumstances, change in our relationship to community, change in our hearts. It's never too late to change and no one is ever "too far gone." This is a myth sold to us so we stop seeing inaction as a crime.
Here are some quotes that particularly resonated with me:
“Me, I retreated into silence. The nuns all thought me slow and backward because of my silence but they had no idea how well I was learning their ways and their language. I did everything they asked of me in a slow, methodical way, uncomplaining and silent. I gave them nothing back because all I knew was the vast amount they had taken from me, robbed me of, cheated me out of, all in the name of a God whose son bore the long hair none of us were allowed to wear anymore. The coldness inside me was complete after Harley died, and what I had left of my life, of me, I was unwilling to give up to anyone. I drifted through the next our years as silent as a bank of snow. A February snow.”
“It amazed me. One day earlier, sitting in the same park with the same mickey in my pocket would have earned me a phone call to the police in this neighbourhood. But today, showered, shaved, and dressed expensively, I had become a sir. What had the soap washed off, I wondered? What did the clothes cover? What did the plastic bank card in my pocket buy me that I didn’t know I’d purchased? It felt strange. Despite the six hundred dollars on my body, the twenty-dollar Scotch in my pocket, the tailor-made cigarettes, and the key to a suite in a fancy hotel, I was still the same man. Nothing had changed but my appearance. I sat and laughed at the joke. All the sirs and all the politeness, all the nods, small salutes, and other signs of inclusion couldn’t hide the fact that I was still a ragged man inside, still a rounder, still more street than neighbourhood, still on a park bench alone while the world happened around me.
"When I'm in the library, surrounded by all those volumes, all the stacks, I feel like I'm in the company of a great many friends. Friends who never leave and friends who are always there when you need them to offer comfort and warmth. I feel anchored there."
"It was all about pain. It was all about those things you can't understand in life. The things that should be so simple but never are. Like feelings. Like hope. Like love. I guess love sometimes doesn't have the most gracious vocabulary. It can't. It can't because it comes from the deepest part of us, the part that never sees the light until love itself calls it out of us, and when you live the way we lived for so long your ears aren't attuned to the sound of love so you never learn to talk its language. You learn pain's vocabulary, though. Very well. That was the language spoken in the living room that night. Pain's talk. Love's talk, really, dressed up in anguish clothes."
Content Warnings
Graphic: Alcohol, Drug use, Child death, Colonisation, Drug abuse, Grief, Death, Racism, Religious bigotry, Alcoholism, Genocide, and Car accident
Moderate: Medical content, Murder, Sexual content, and Suicide
residential schools, anti-Asian racism ("broken" English), use of Romani slur g***y.
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