Lee Maracle, author of the best-selling I Am Woman: A Native Perspective on Sociology and Feminism, sets this novel in an urban Native American community on the Pacific Northwest coast in the early 1950s. Ravensong is by turns damning, humorous, inspirational, and prophetic.
Born in Vancouver, British Columbia, she grew up in the neighbouring city of North Vancouver and attended Simon Fraser University. She was one of the first Aboriginal people to be published in the early 1970s.
Maracle is one of the most prolific aboriginal authors in Canada and a recognized authority on issues pertaining to aboriginal people and aboriginal literature. She is an award-winning poet, novelist, performance storyteller, scriptwriter, actor and keeper/mythmaker among the Stó:lō people.
Maracle was one of the founders of the En’owkin International School of Writing in Penticton, British Columbia and the cultural director of the Centre for Indigenous Theatre in Toronto, Ontario.
Maracle has given hundreds of speeches on political, historical, and feminist sociological topics related to native people, and conducted dozens of workshops on personal and cultural reclamation. She has served as a consultant on First Nations� self-government and has an extensive history in community development. She has been described as “a walking history book� and an international expert on Canadian First Nations culture and history.
Maracle has taught at the University of Toronto, University of Waterloo, Southern Oregon University and has served as professor of Canadian culture at Western Washington University. She currently lives in Toronto, teaching at the University of Toronto First Nations House. She most recently was the writer-in-residence at the University of Guelph.
Ravensong, Lee Maracle's 1993 novel, is as powerful and meaningful today as it was when it was first published some twenty years ago. It is a beautifully written, at times challenging, story that weaves the past with the present into a moving portrait of a family, a community and a land that has faced and still faces many challenges from within and from outside. Situated in the Northwest of Vancouver Island, Maracle evokes a land where the Raven sings and communicates with Cedar, where the cedar responds with gently swinging its branches and sometimes weeps. It was a fertile land between the ocean and the river, providing for the people with all they needed. Yet, memories of disturbing past events cast long shadows over the people and the natural environment. Myths and stories from ancient times come alive again and again, such as that of the double-headed sea serpent that caused havoc with the minds of the people or the foreigners who arrived with ships... A young girl, deeply lost in thought sitting under the cedar, carries vivid images of those tragic events that contributed to more catastrophes later, traumas that the community has not yet recovered from.
Set in the mid nineteen fifties, the novel is built around an extended multi-generational Coast-Salish family and their community. Their village may seem self-contained and even remote from the bustling urban life, yet "white town" is just across the river and a bridge connects the two communities. Stacey, the young girl's older sister, is the only one among her siblings and cousins who attends school in the town. At seventeen she has dreams of continuing her studies at university to become a teacher in her village. She is exposed to a world that doesn't make much sense to her. For example, during an outbreak of the Hong Kong flu, her village cannot get access to vital medicines and no doctor comes to visit them. The barriers, both physical and mental are huge. Suspicion reigns on both sides of the river. The bridge is mostly a one-way street. What will it take to change?
Lee Maracle's way of telling her story absorbed me totally. Her writing changes from the wonderfully poetic evocation of the natural world to a language that is precise, direct and at times provocative when depicting the daily life of the people and their community. Ravensong is filled with well-developed characters, they come alive in their interactions whether in sorrow or in laughter, in love or in pain. In fact, the author herself kept her fondness for her protagonists over the decades and continued their stories in her most recent novel, Celia's Song. In fact, I read the two novels back to back, and while the combined reading enhanced and deepened my understanding, the two novels stand on their own very well.
Just to give you a sense of the poetic writing in Ravensong, here is the opening paragraph: "From the depths of the sound Raven sang a deep wind song, melancholy green. Above, the water layered itself in stacks of still green, dark to light. The sound of Raven spiralled out from its small beginning in larger and larger concentric circles, gaining volume as it passes each successive layer of green. The song echoed the rolling motion of earth's centre, filtering itself through the last layer to reach outward to earth's shoreline above the deep. Wind changed direction, blowing the song toward cedar. Cedar picked up the tune, repeated the refrain, each lacey branch bending to echo ravensong. Cloud, seduced by the rustling of cedar, moved sensually to shore. ..."
Salish- Métis author Lee Maracle’s 1993 novel Ravensong doesn’t centre around queerness or lesbian sexuality in the way that you might expect in a book reviewed here. It’s a beautiful and powerful novel about settler and Indigenous relations regardless, but its main character Stacey, a young Salish woman living on a reserve in the 1950s, isn’t explicitly or implicity queer (although she is potentially queer, I would say, given Maracle’s take on sexuality). There is, however, a lesbian couple who feature as secondary characters in Ravensong, and I think their inclusion is really significant, for a few reasons. Mostly, I find the way that the novel deals with queer sexuality in relation to its politics of decolonization fascinating. In fact, I think honing in on how the novel deals with queerness is a great way to understand what it’s trying to do in terms of decolonizing. The absence in Ravensong of an explicit assertion of queerness, the fact that it doesn’t “come out,� as it were, as a queer text, is no failure at all but rather indicates an entirely different method of interrogating issues of queer sexuality...
A fascinating Canadian novel that engrosses the reader so much into the events within the story that Stacey begins to feel like a real person, a fellow acquaintance. The contrasts between the village and white town are set in fiction but the eery tone invokes a deep sense of compassion and shame; for these descriptions are based upon fact and very accurate fact. Never have I been so enthralled in a novel that challenges me in such a way. To consider the moral implications that were enforced upon the gender, race, education, citizenships, health, and most of all....the rights of the native "other" in relation to their dominant white neighbours. Catharsis is achieved fully, and the literary journey is worth the heartache. Fabulous book!
Ravensong is an exceptional example of narrative writing. It is, however, not an easy read. The plot twists and turns as the past and present intertwine amongst a range of world views.
Phenomenal. The depth and layers in this beautifully written and emotional story is profound. I didn’t know there was an epidemic dealt with within the story, so the themes explored are heightened given COVID. Highly recommend. I hope someone adapts to make into an excellent tv series or film.
An incredibly poetic work describing the life of a group of Indians who depend on the land, each other and their laws to keep cohesion in their community. It fills me with shame for the white culture that has destroyed so much of the native way of life that we may ironically need in a future of environmental uncertainty.
Maracle sets her story in a fictional reserve outside of Vancouver in 1954. We follow Stacey, a 17 year old girl eager to go to university and bring back what she learns to her community. That spring and summer the Hong Kong flu epidemic rips through her reserve. Combined with the suicide of one of her white classmates, these events cause Stacey to reevaluate everything she's known and seek out answers.
The character work was really strong and I appreciated the glimpse into these characters lives (predominantly Stacey's) and the relationships they hold with each other. As someone who is not very familiar with Salish culture (or Pacific Northwest Indigenous cultures more generally) I really appreciated the use of Raven (and to a lesser degree, Cedar) as both characters and metaphors for creation, knowledge, insight, among others.
Maracle had a lot to say about Indigenous rights and lived experiences in 1950s British Columbia, and the interactions/relations with white town and white people. I annotated so much of this book because there were so many strong statements and ideas that really resonated with the contemporary world. If you've read 21 Things You May Not Know About the Indian Act, I think it'll serve as a great companion to Ravensong (or vice versa). 21 Things (or reading anything about the Indian Act) helps contextualize the restrictions and oppressions the community is living under, while Ravensong provides a personal element to this legislation.
I don't know if all of Maracle's writing is in this style, since she apparently wrote Ravensong for a three-day novel writing contest (and wrote a hell of a story). It's a very straightforward style, with very little flourish or extra descriptions (outside of her nature writing, which was wonderful). I was left wanting more out of the text from a writing standpoint.
There's also an interracial (Salish and white) lesbian couple. I loved them and found Maracle balanced the realities of 1950s mainstream attitudes towards queerness (which seep into the reserve's attitudes and use of 'queer' as a slur) while having these two women just live their lives and support each other and their community.
Overall, I really liked the story and what Lee Maracle had to say but didn't love her writing. I think it's still an incredibly relevant story for being written in 1993 and set in 1954, and I'm so glad it was re-printed. I'd especially be open to reading her poetry, but will probably hold off on reading the sequel/companion Celia's Song for a while.
CW: domestic violence, homophobia (slurs), racism, teen suicide (off-page), death
In this book Lee Maracle offers a glimpse into First Nations life in British Columbia, particularly of a community hit hard by the Asian fever epidemic in the 1950s. At 17, Stacey, the protagonist, oscillates between the life she knows in the community, with its family relationships, gender, and connection to nature, and her attraction to the 'white world.' Between the two worlds there is a seemingly unbridgeable gulf. I would have liked Stacey's dilemmas (traditional life, the death of a peer, early approaches to sexuality, her relationship with her mother, the loss of her father, and new family balances) to be described in more depth.
This is the most beautiful book I have read in a while. It carefully feathers together how complicated the divide is between the world of white people and the Native American way of life. It is well worth the time it takes to read it (a day or two) and offers such deep insight that I feel like I understand things better than I did before I read it, yet it is also utterly overwhelming to contemplate my own lack of understanding and the great loss that the People have endured. I loved this story so much. Thank-you Lee Marcle.
Lee Maracle, membre de communauté amérindienne stó:lő de Colombie-Britannique, nous entraîne de l’autre côté du pont. Le pont... frontière entre deux monde : celui des Blancs et celui des Amérindiens. Je vais être honnête, je ne sais pas comment décrire le puissant magnétisme qui se dégage des mots de Lee Maracle, des mots emplis de poésie et d’une grande sensibilité. A travers le regard de la jeune Stacey, la romancière relate la douloureuse acculturation des Premières Nations au Canada dans les années 1950. Voilà un roman rempli de légendes et de belles réflexions qui nous fait entrer dans une communauté stigmatisée, abandonnée presque deshumanisée. Sans jamais tomber dans le pathos, Lee Maracle nous présente la réserve du Clan du Loup avec humour, tristesse, tendresse, horreur. Il y a tellement de chose à apprendre et retenir de ce livre. Le voyage que nous offre Lee Maracle est captivant. La vue sur ce pont, ce gouffre, qui unit les deux mondes est saisissant et ne peut laisser personne indifférent. Je ne vous en dit pas plus et j’espère qu’un jour vous prendrez le temps d’ecouter le chant du corbeau... oui, j'ai bien écrit ”écouter�...
Colombie-Britannique, les années 50, une épidémie de grippe s'invite dans les communautés.
Outre l'histoire, ce que je trouve de particulièrement intéressant dans ce roman, c'est de voir avec le regard d'une adolescente autochtone certains agissements et coutumes des Blancs qui ne font pas de sens pour elle. Comme par exemple, lorsqu'ils arrachent et jettent des plantes qu'ils considèrent comme des mauvaises herbes mais qui, dans sa communauté à elle, servent à soigner ou guérir. Ou lorsqu'elle est invitée à manger chez une amie et qu'elle ne comprend pas pourquoi la mère de famille ne semble pas avoir plus d'autorité que les enfants dans cette maison qui manque de vie.
Je pensais que le côté épidémique prendrait beaucoup plus de place dans le récit, mais je ne suis pas nécessairement déçue par ça. Il y a quelques détails qui me font me demander si j'ai bien tout compris de cette histoire.
I’m giving this early novel of Maracle’s 5 stars, even though I think it has some flaws, perhaps because she’s trying to do so much in it. The flaws don’t detract either from its wisdom or from the important questions it asks about Indigenous/White relations in Canada. Stacey is the only person from her Indigenous village who crosses the bridge to go to white school, and she provides an eye-opening look at the differing world views of both communities. Whatever ‘values� the white community might hold don’t motivate them to provide any assistance when the Indigenous village begins to lose people to yet another introduced disease, this time (1954) an influenza epidemic. But, through Raven, Maracle also criticizes the Indigenous people for having lost their way. «They had not retreated for some time to the place of sacred thought�.their thoughts avoided depth, lest struggle weary them.»
Surely one of the more disappointing texts I've come across in some time, this was a slog to get through. Maracle's fiction illustrates the ethnic frictions to be found within white border town communities and her narrative is naturally couched in the confused yet inquisitive perspective of a young woman who struggles to find her footing between white-Indigenous binaries. Immigration, medical racism, puritanism, and sexual repression are some of the many themes packed into its relatively short length. Unfortunately, her writing style does not persuade me at all, and that aesthetic detraction is the primary setback. Clearly, your mileage may vary, and this remains one of the more representative explorations of Indigenous relations in rural Canada, especially for those interested in multiethnic feminist discourse.
Good, but there are books out there that are more nuanced in the treatment of issues separating indigenous culture from Western culture. The protagonist was mostly smug about the white people around her. Granted, there is definitely a place for indigenous characters being smug about the white people around them considering how violently smug white people have been and continue to be... but this felt like it added nothing to the conversation. It was too flaccid to be truly radical, and too smug to be noteworthy. But then I was reading Rushdie at the same time, and the contrast might've made me more critical of this than I would have been had I not been enjoying the warped and iconoclastic work of the latter.
Incredible book! The weaving of characters together caused an introspection in myself. I also appreciated the running dialogue style of writing. This book addressed thoughts vs words, worldview shifts, humanity’s weakness. As a British Columbian settler, I’m grateful to read books like these showing the constant influence and disruption “my� culture had on fn way of life. Seeing the model of family that Momma and Old Dominic hit me hard, understanding Stacey’s confusion at Polly’s needless death, helps me understand better how I can change my mindset and influence others. There’s a lot in this little book, which is why I read it in stages. The storyline itself is good, drawing you into the book. Great novel overall.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
This book is the prequel to Celia's Song, a book I read earlier this year. It was interesting in that many events that happened in this book, were referenced in that one. It is told from the perspective of Celia's older sister, Stacey who is attending her last year of white high school across the bridge from their village. She plans to go to UBC and become a teacher after graduation. Like in Celia's Song, Maracle makes us aware of the differences between her people's way of seeing the world and our own. Both are important books.
Loved this book for the way it positions coming-of-age questioning and shifting family dynamics as a focal point from which to view the everyday violence of colonialism. The rich and varied symbolism woven through this relatively short book would make it perfect to read with a pal or reading group. I'm thinking of of the dialogue between Cedar and Raven, the ephemeral presence of Celia, the way the epilogue reframes the prior narrative... I'm glad Maracle wrote a follow up, and I'm eager to read it.
This story follows the thoughts of a 17-year old girl who lives on-reserve, and goes to the "white" school in the white town across the river. She struggles with the gap between the two cultures. I found the comparison very interesting, and now I understand a bit better the challenges that First Nations people continue to face....that family structure that was so important to them, and was torn apart by residential schools and modern living. The writing is lyrical and a joy to read.
Tj Klune vuelve a tocarme el corazón. Yo tan reacia al leer este tipo de historias: lobos, alfas, brujos y todo eso. Y la vida que me tira estos libros a la cara. Amé Wolfsong con el alma. Donde sea que estuviera sacaba mi ebook y me ponía a leer como loca demente. No podía evitar reír en público. Y lloré demasiado en la soledad de mi cuarto.
Ravensong no decepciona. Me encantó mucho. La historia de Gordo y Mark es triste y desgarradora.
This book has incredibly beautiful prose and blends together the real and surreal wonderfully. The way the Indigenous community tackles the epidemic that plagues them (together) is a lesson in empathy we could all use right now.
However, suicide is a big theme in this book and I found the handling of it rather insensitive and callous at certain points, so a big trigger warning for that (and hence why I gave it 4 stars instead of 5).
Maracle identifies the challenges to coexistence amongst humanity throughout her equally uplifting and tragic novel. Her characters are rich and their perspectives are complex. As the main character, Stacey questions the motivations of all people in her life and helps the reader understand conflict between Indigenous and white people.
I look forward to reading Celia's song as I did not want the story to end.
There are really interesting and thought-provoking questions brought up here, but I realized that I don't need to finish this for my class and I'm not vibing with the writing style/don't feel particularly drawn to finishing it, so I will not.
If you want real insight into how Native peoples view the colonizer society that has oppressed them for centuries, this book will give you a good idea.