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A review by allisonwonderlandreads
Yellow Bird: Oil, Murder, and a Woman's Search for Justice in Indian Country by Sierra Crane Murdoch
informative
mysterious
reflective
slow-paced
3.0
Yellow Bird is more than a true crime book, though it has that kernel of intrigue to draw you in. It's a story of the MHA Nation in North Dakota. It addresses their history, pulling in social, economic, and political elements. And it specifically examines the impact of the oil boom from 2006 to around 2015. It was during this time that Kristopher Clark went missing. A non-native oil worker, his case was stymied by multiple factors. For one, the lack of a body meant it couldn't be classified as a crime for certain despite the many suspicious factors around his disappearance. Furthermore, jurisdictional gaps between tribal sovereignty and both local and federal law enforcement kept officials from taking action to find him. Lissa Yellowbird, a member of the MHA nation, took an interest in the case, and her investigations as a concerned citizen pushed things along when they threatened to stagnate. The author spent years alongside Lissa and her family as a journalist and a friend, getting to know them, learning Lissa's process, reading her extensive documentation, and even participating in the search for Clark's body.
One thing I admired about the book is the non-linear storytelling. Chapters could include details about Clark, then dive into big-picture economic history, then offer a vignette from Lissa's personal life, and then offer play-by-plays of a break in the case. It captured themes well and kept the many elements of the book at the forefront. The author might examine colonialism at one point and then look into public health and drug use the next through Lissa's experiences. It ensures the reader doesn't forget how interconnected all these things are and how they influenced not only Clark's murder but also the path to justice, as rocky as it was. This is not a fast-paced read, and I think it suits the complexity of the author's topic. It did result in my mental engagement waxing and waning as the topics shifted, but I didn't think any parts were tangential or poorly thought out.
My metric for non-fiction has a lot to do with how much I learned-- how much it will reframe information I thought I had or impact things I could glean going forward. It's also about how much it will linger with me in its complexity. This book definitely achieves that, teaching me about current events and their historical causes. It has an eye on intergenerational trauma, drawing on specific examples in Lissa's family while considering broader political forces like exploitation and power disparities that make it so.
I found the author's note about her process and approach informative. She didn't go the typical route of sensationalizing the murder to suit what readers clamor for. She considered her subjects and her own role, including as many voices as possible, allowing the key players to read and give notes before publication. While no book is perfect, I appreciate her thoughtfulness around being a white writer documenting indigenous experiences. I also think it was a good move to clearly "include herself" in the book rather than playing at being an impartial observer. I listened to this as an audiobook, which is also cool because it's read by the author.
One thing I admired about the book is the non-linear storytelling. Chapters could include details about Clark, then dive into big-picture economic history, then offer a vignette from Lissa's personal life, and then offer play-by-plays of a break in the case. It captured themes well and kept the many elements of the book at the forefront. The author might examine colonialism at one point and then look into public health and drug use the next through Lissa's experiences. It ensures the reader doesn't forget how interconnected all these things are and how they influenced not only Clark's murder but also the path to justice, as rocky as it was. This is not a fast-paced read, and I think it suits the complexity of the author's topic. It did result in my mental engagement waxing and waning as the topics shifted, but I didn't think any parts were tangential or poorly thought out.
My metric for non-fiction has a lot to do with how much I learned-- how much it will reframe information I thought I had or impact things I could glean going forward. It's also about how much it will linger with me in its complexity. This book definitely achieves that, teaching me about current events and their historical causes. It has an eye on intergenerational trauma, drawing on specific examples in Lissa's family while considering broader political forces like exploitation and power disparities that make it so.
I found the author's note about her process and approach informative. She didn't go the typical route of sensationalizing the murder to suit what readers clamor for. She considered her subjects and her own role, including as many voices as possible, allowing the key players to read and give notes before publication. While no book is perfect, I appreciate her thoughtfulness around being a white writer documenting indigenous experiences. I also think it was a good move to clearly "include herself" in the book rather than playing at being an impartial observer. I listened to this as an audiobook, which is also cool because it's read by the author.