Grebel Reads
As most of you know, this year Grebel has selected the book "Indian Horse" by Richard Wagamese for us to read and discuss. Here are a few perspectives on the book by various members of our community- an introspective perspective.
Mandy Macfie (Library Staff)
My home town is a settler’s town. Parry Sound, the home of Bobby Orr. Europeans came in droves during the mid to late 19th century, hoping for farmable land. The settlers formed their town beside the Ojibway village of Wasauksing, which means “Shining Shore.” I don’t know much about the history of Parry Sound during its first hundred and fifty years, but I’m sure it was the same as every other town-and-reserve story: whites move in, Natives are moved out, segregation occurs, racism thrives.
Today, the town still remains predominately white, although the Wasauksing First Nations reserve is just outside of town, on the Island. I grew up with Native kids. We played together, skated together, learned together, and partied together. I didn’t think about why the reserve existed. I didn’t know why some people thought it was weird for me to participate in Ojibway class in Grade 5. I took the class because my friend was in it, because we would learn how to bead, and because Mrs. King looked like both of my grandmothers combined in one kind face.
I realize now how naïve and unquestioning I was as a young person. I’ve since learned, seen, and read things that have opened my eyes to the world around me. I wonder, now that I’ve been gone for a decade and more, if things have changed at home. Is the Island-Town relationship different? Are perceptions changing? Are we more understanding? Are we hearing their stories? I’d like to be hopeful and think that positive change is occurring, but I may still be naïve.
After generations of being ignored and purposefully forgotten, Native stories are being heard by wider audiences. This is why I think stories like Indian Horse are so important for Canadians to hear. There is so much truth in this fictional story. It opened my eyes in a visceral way to the heartbreak experienced by the people in my own community.
"It is harder to find somebody who will listen, but everybody reads.” -Chief Dan George ("Words to a Grandchild”)
Laura Gray (music faculty)
“Called by Name”
“My name is Saul Indian Horse.” This is the first line of Wagamese’s story and it is only as the story unfolds that we begin to understand the full measure of Saul’s opening statement.
Saul’s name returns in one of the most transcendent moments in the story. Sitting on his favourite rock overlooking God’s Lake, young Saul hears his name whispered so softly that he thinks that he has imagined it. “Saul” and again “Saul”. He is called out from the Great Mystery and Saul’s gift of vision is revealed.
Like another Saul long ago whose name was called out in the wilderness, the calling brings great joy but also extraordinary hardship on the road ahead. We become so intimately involved in Saul’s journey that, when the ultimate betrayal is revealed – his traumatic loss of innocence by someone he trusted – we also feel that betrayal sharply and deeply.
As Saul’s story comes full circle to the opening line, we begin to see that resilience and hope have been there from the beginning, as Saul reclaims his name and all that he is for the journey ahead.
Emily Hunsberger
This summer, when I received Indian Horse in the mail, I had my reading strategy all planned out. I was prepared to read the book quickly; friends who’d already read it said: “I read it in the morning, with only one bathroom break.”
Either my friends have hardier bladders than mine or I am a slower reader (likely both), because I was surprised by the amount of time it took me to read Indian Horse. It is obviously an emotional heavy book; when people would ask me what it was about, I’d say, “Colonialism, white-guilt, and murder.”
However, I don’t think that this book was hard for me to get through because it was depressing, I think it was difficult because it was such a complex and well-written novel. It is a beautifully confessional novel that somehow spoke to me even though I am not Native, I haven’t been in a residential school and I don’t play hockey. I think the best books create a productive conversation between writer and reader, that they can think about long after.
This isn’t just a big-picture idea that’s only applicable to the “big, important books” that everyone in society is supposed to read. We should be mindful of this discourse when reading Tweets, Buzzfeed articles, the newspaper, or our Facebook newsfeeds, never mind the actual real-live conversations we have with each other around the dinner table. If we can be aware of where a speaker or writer is coming from, without losing our own perspective, we can create holistic relationships and conversations around these important issues. Indian Horse creates these types of conversations because it is such a confessional, personal book.
Mandy Macfie (Library Staff)
My home town is a settler’s town. Parry Sound, the home of Bobby Orr. Europeans came in droves during the mid to late 19th century, hoping for farmable land. The settlers formed their town beside the Ojibway village of Wasauksing, which means “Shining Shore.” I don’t know much about the history of Parry Sound during its first hundred and fifty years, but I’m sure it was the same as every other town-and-reserve story: whites move in, Natives are moved out, segregation occurs, racism thrives.
Today, the town still remains predominately white, although the Wasauksing First Nations reserve is just outside of town, on the Island. I grew up with Native kids. We played together, skated together, learned together, and partied together. I didn’t think about why the reserve existed. I didn’t know why some people thought it was weird for me to participate in Ojibway class in Grade 5. I took the class because my friend was in it, because we would learn how to bead, and because Mrs. King looked like both of my grandmothers combined in one kind face.
I realize now how naïve and unquestioning I was as a young person. I’ve since learned, seen, and read things that have opened my eyes to the world around me. I wonder, now that I’ve been gone for a decade and more, if things have changed at home. Is the Island-Town relationship different? Are perceptions changing? Are we more understanding? Are we hearing their stories? I’d like to be hopeful and think that positive change is occurring, but I may still be naïve.
After generations of being ignored and purposefully forgotten, Native stories are being heard by wider audiences. This is why I think stories like Indian Horse are so important for Canadians to hear. There is so much truth in this fictional story. It opened my eyes in a visceral way to the heartbreak experienced by the people in my own community.
"It is harder to find somebody who will listen, but everybody reads.” -Chief Dan George ("Words to a Grandchild”)
Laura Gray (music faculty)
“Called by Name”
“My name is Saul Indian Horse.” This is the first line of Wagamese’s story and it is only as the story unfolds that we begin to understand the full measure of Saul’s opening statement.
Saul’s name returns in one of the most transcendent moments in the story. Sitting on his favourite rock overlooking God’s Lake, young Saul hears his name whispered so softly that he thinks that he has imagined it. “Saul” and again “Saul”. He is called out from the Great Mystery and Saul’s gift of vision is revealed.
Like another Saul long ago whose name was called out in the wilderness, the calling brings great joy but also extraordinary hardship on the road ahead. We become so intimately involved in Saul’s journey that, when the ultimate betrayal is revealed – his traumatic loss of innocence by someone he trusted – we also feel that betrayal sharply and deeply.
As Saul’s story comes full circle to the opening line, we begin to see that resilience and hope have been there from the beginning, as Saul reclaims his name and all that he is for the journey ahead.
Emily Hunsberger
This summer, when I received Indian Horse in the mail, I had my reading strategy all planned out. I was prepared to read the book quickly; friends who’d already read it said: “I read it in the morning, with only one bathroom break.”
Either my friends have hardier bladders than mine or I am a slower reader (likely both), because I was surprised by the amount of time it took me to read Indian Horse. It is obviously an emotional heavy book; when people would ask me what it was about, I’d say, “Colonialism, white-guilt, and murder.”
However, I don’t think that this book was hard for me to get through because it was depressing, I think it was difficult because it was such a complex and well-written novel. It is a beautifully confessional novel that somehow spoke to me even though I am not Native, I haven’t been in a residential school and I don’t play hockey. I think the best books create a productive conversation between writer and reader, that they can think about long after.
This isn’t just a big-picture idea that’s only applicable to the “big, important books” that everyone in society is supposed to read. We should be mindful of this discourse when reading Tweets, Buzzfeed articles, the newspaper, or our Facebook newsfeeds, never mind the actual real-live conversations we have with each other around the dinner table. If we can be aware of where a speaker or writer is coming from, without losing our own perspective, we can create holistic relationships and conversations around these important issues. Indian Horse creates these types of conversations because it is such a confessional, personal book.