Book Review: Indian Horse by Richard Wagamese

Update:  Wagamese's Indian Horse--the movie--has been reviewed on Rotten Tomatoes. Thanks to Netflix, I recently (November 2021) had a chance to watch this movie and it's almost as good as the book. 

My one-sentence review:  Indian Horse by Richard Wagamese is like a slap shot--a quick and powerful read. (scroll down for more...)

Blurb from the back cover:  Saul Indian Horse is in trouble, and there seems to be only one way out. As he journeys back through his life as a northern Ojibway, from the horrors of residential school to his triumphs on the hockey rink, he must question everything he knows. In Indian Horse, author Richard Wagamese has crafted a wise and magical novel about love, family and the power of spirit.

Buy this book

I took notes as I read...

'Many hearts beating together make us stronger.' (p. 2)

I'm so glad I decided to read Indian Horse after The Orenda--they are very compatible books. 

Wagmese's matter of fact writing style is very easy to read and before I know it I'm on page 30. And I'm not full; I hunger for more.

The narrator speaks in a simple, straightforward manner but words like 'ministrations' are off-putting. They make you question your assumptions regarding the narrator's background. I read on... 

Saul:  'I read once that there are holes in the universe that swallow light, all bodies. St. Jerome's [Indian Residential School] took all the light from my world. Everything I knew vanished behind me with an audible swish, like the sound a moose makes disappearing into spruce.' (p. 43)

If you've ever wondered about the cruelty inflicted on students at residential schools read chapter twelve. It's hard to but read it. And while you read remind yourself that these are children they are physically and mentally abusing.

'When your innocence is stripped from you, when your people are denigrated, when the family you came from is denounced and your tribal ways and rituals are pronounced backward, primitive, savage, you come to see yourself as less than human. That is hell on earth, that sense of unworthiness. That's what they inflicted on us.' (p. 81)

Saul on Hockey:  'I can't explain how it came to me, but I could see not just the physical properties of the game and the action but  the intent. If a player could control a measure of space, he could control the game.' (p. 58)

It's very important for the reader to see what Saul had to give up (his life with his family) and to see what he had to endure (in the residential school) so that we can appreciate what hockey gave to him. It gave him a reason to spring out of bed each morning; it instilled in him a love for life. 

This book would make a wonderful movie. (And it turns out it did.)

Wagamese love for the game of hockey rings out page after page. And it's infectious--even for this decidedly non-sport-minded woman. 

I want everything to work out for Saul. I want him to live happily ever after with the Kelly's. But I know it's not to be. I know because I'm only half-way through the book and I know because of the way this book began. 

Wagamese skillfully uses foreshadowing on page 140.

This would be an excellent book for a reluctant reader--especially one that loves hockey.

Chapter 48 is so powerful and underlines a message I firmly embrace as true--to heal you must remember.

Chapter 49 reads like a hard slap across the face. How could  be so naive? Why didn't I know? Why didn't I see?

I couldn't stop reading, but I didn't want it to end. Thank you, Richard Wagamese.

Friday's guest post:  Interview with Shirley Hershey Showalter (memoirist)

Sharing my author journey...

Vinaterta by Leanne Dyck

This creative non-fiction short story was first published (2005) in Flavours of Vancouver:  Dishes From Around the World.
Compiled by Sheila Peacock and Joan Cross for the Canadian Broadcast Corporation
Published by Douglas and McIntyre

Cookbook blurb:  If you could drop in on the kitchens of your Vancouver neighbours, these are the dishes you'd find burbling on the stove. And these are the stories that people share along with generous helping of their unique specialties.

CBC Radio invites you to explore Vancouver's international character with this globe-spanning collection of recipes contributed by every kind of Vancouverite, from those who have lived here for generations to those who have just arrived.

Don't be shy. These long-time favourites have been perfected over the years, then kitchen-tested as well. And while you're getting to know the neighbours, you'll be helping kids around the world. Proceeds from Flavours of Vancouver go to Save the Children Canada.

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When I was growing up, Christmas was a joyous time of family gatherings, traditions, good cheer and food. Delicious smells poured forth from Mom's kitchen. This was her opportunity to showcase mouthwatering talent. Two desserts were at the centre of these festivities:  English Pud to celebrate my dad's heritage, and my mom's recipe for Icelandic Vinaterta. Not surprisingly, Mom had been given the roots of her recipe from her mom, Grandma Olafson. Grandma's recipe loudly proclaimed its Icelandic heritage with its strong ethnic taste. Mom slightly toned down the recipe to make it more palatable for her husband. I, too, far preferred Mom's recipe. Years passed and I fell in love. Christmas was the test for my Mennonite boyfriend. How would he react to my large extended family? To Vinaterta? To my delight, he seemed at home in the company of my family. Next, he was served a piece of Vinaterta. The first bite was foreign to him. He turned the tastes around in his mouth. Would he finish his piece?

"It's okay if you don't finish it. It's a unique taste," my mom offered.

"Oh, no, I like it." He finished it. "May I have another piece, please?"

Later that year we were married. Vinaterta was our wedding cake.

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Learn more about the Icelandic-Canadian culture. Read the Icelandic Connection Magazine.
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Next post:  Meeting an Angel (short story)

Book Review: The Sentimentalists by Johanna Skibrub

Even before I started reading this book, I was inspired by it—or, more to the point, the story behind the book.

Gaspereau Press—a small Nova Scotian publishing house, released the first copies of this book. Author Johanna Skidsrud had a relationship with this press. They had published her poetry collection—Late Nights With Wild Cowboys—in 2008. But I don’t think Gaspereau Press was ready for the wild ride The Sentimentalists would take them on. The book won the Scotiabank Giller Prize, and then all of Canada wanted to read it. Gaspereau tried, but just wasn’t equipped for the challenge. So a larger press—Douglas & McIntyre—re-released it.

After hearing that story, I knew I had to read it. If only to have some of the lucky ink rub off on my author fingers.

My thoughts after reading…

Johanna Skidsrud has a unique writing style. Long, complex sentences are strung together, like clothing on a clothing line—a sleeve fondly caressing a pant leg.

Here are some of my favourite quotes…

“A lot of stuff just happens, you know, my little Honey, whether I personally believe in it or not.”

No matter how hard you try to understand someone something escapes.

A piece of you always remains after death.

The narrator gets to know her father, as we, the reader, do—slowly, very slowly from the outside in. Her father has never been able to live a normal life. He abandons his family. He throws his money away on unwise investments. He can’t even finish building his beloved boats. Unable to live life, he runs away from the United States to Canada. There he is taken care of by his friend Henry. It’s not until the end of the book that we see what has destroyed him to the core.