Upon hearing that Joseph Boyden's Through Black Spruce had won the
highly esteemed and coveted Giller Award, I promptly went out (like
any other true blue English Literature graduate) and purchased his
novel. However, because of time constraints I did not begin it
immediately and am currently only about two-thirds of the way
through. Nevertheless, at this juncture (p 251), here is my take.
First of all, I believe one can get a sense of almost any book just
by reading the first few pages-often it's not necessary to even go
that far. But because I wanted to give the Giller winner the
benefit of the doubt (despite the clichéd native speech patterns
and a misogynist reference to Mother Nature as "one angry sslut"
(p.2) I continued reading. As I read, I found myself vaguely
interested in Boyden's two central characters---a comatose uncle
and his drifting niece as well as their separate but interrelated
stories. The novel's stylistic concept of alternating chapters with
these two narrative voices and perspectives is also initially
somewhat interesting. However, the story does rely heavily on an
extreme situation to elicit this interest.
Additionally, very quickly, I got the distinct impression that
Boyden's incorporation of native culture felt deliberate and at
times "in your face" rather than fluid and natural. For instance,
his criticisms of white culture, even when indirect, are never
subtle. Here's one glaring example: "…they've gone from living on
the land in teepees….hunting, trapping, trading…to living in
clapboard houses pushing squeaky grocery carts up and down aisles
filled with overpriced and unhealthy food…diabetes, obesity and
cancer plague our community" (36-37). Later, the niece says after
handing over ten dollars to a homeless "elder" on the street "Spend
it wise…booze is the white man's poison, not ours" (53).
I don't disagree with Boyden's assessment or his statements
because they're unforgivably true. White society deserves all the
criticism it gets (and more) for its treatment of native people.
But because the criticism becomes such a driving force in the novel
it's as though Boyden's confused his genres. So instead of being
told a story, the reader feels as though they are being given a
lecture. Essentially, his novel can be seen as a didactic vehicle
for retaliation. In another situation, perhaps this would not be
such an issue---but this is the Giller winner. It must be held to a
high standard.
Equally if not more disturbing is Boyden's status as a very
marginal Métis (only one-fourth of his background is native).
Boyden didn't even grow up "native". He is from affluent
Willowdale, Ontario yet he exploits his negligible status to take
his stance and execute his passive-aggressive mission. Also, by
using the two dissimilar voices of his central characters to tell
his story, he effectively seizes the voices of all
natives---basically telling us that this is the way young and old,
male and female, rural and city natives think, feel and speak. And
for this reader at least, it's the speaking or talking that becomes
most irritating and creates the sensation of cultural appropriation
of voice. Phrases such as "Ever losers, them" (54) coming from the
mouth of a young educated native female sound unlikely and
contrived. I've gone to school with many pure-blooded native people
and had native neighborhood friends and not one of them spoke like
that. In high school, I attended a Catholic boarding school where a
number of young native girls from the Moosenee and James Bay area
had come and none of them spoke in this manner either. That said,
Boyden really should have rethought his insinuation of so much of
this stereotypical and archaic native talk and stuck with a more
mainstream dialogue and narration. By doing so, he may have
succeeded in more effectively conveying his message through
connotation.
It should also be noted that the oppressiveness of Boyden's
sermonizing never allows the reader to become fully engaged or
emotionally invested in either of his characters. So while I know I
likely should have, I just didn't care much about either of them.
Compounding this situation are two other factors the first of these
being that one character's story is significantly more interesting
than the other. The second aspect I gradually began to notice and
became increasingly impatient with is Boyden's inclusion of a lot
of extraneous details (actually entire chapters) which rather than
adding to the story's depth or interest level just drag it along.
When I began reading Through Black Spruce, I was excited and fully
expecting to love it, or at least, admire the hell out of it. After
all, this novel had won Canada's highest literary award. Now, I
find myself obliged (I did spend thirty-four dollars for it),
annoyed and bored at the prospect of finishing this Giller winner.