“House of Dawn” by Navarro Scott Momaday, if you haven’t read it, I highly suggest you pick it up and start. I have read it three times and now after having recently read “History of the Ojibway People” written by my own relative, William Whipple Warren, for the fourth time, I have found myself in deep contemplation about many amazing works of literature by America’s indigenous that have been passed by and overlooked by the self-proclaimed literary elites. Why? Because these writers hold such a riveting truth about circumstances from the past and present that it is only necessary to keep them silenced? Is it a racial thing? Just what is the main reason there is so little emphasis placed on the literary stance of the indigenous peoples of North America?
It is not my intention to demean the eminent writers and poets who have found their respective homes among the great literary movements of our times. No, my intention is to place a fraction of blame on the supercilious scholars of the literary world, who, with their bombastic lectures on literary criticism have had a hand in establishing the popularity or lack of, of a given movement, author,or poet- they collectively hold a power that is not so unlike the media's power in today’s political arena.
Let it be known that I am not saying those literary movements, writers, or poets are not deserving of their merit, I am just merely suggesting that perhaps they wouldn’t be as “favored” if the literary critics and scholars hadn’t placed so much emphasis upon them in the first place. Any intelligent free-thinking individual is well aware of the fact that people always follow what they perceive as being popular or in style at the moment and the mavericks are always criticized and chastised for their so-called unconventional ways.
There are a great many writers and poets who slip through the cracks, whose eloquent words go barely unnoticed due to these circumstances. My main focus in this rather verbose diatribe is on American Literature and its obvious lack of a certain indigenous voice that deserves to be recognized on a grand scale. There are many notable movements within American Literature and yet I am saddened by the fact that there is relatively no emphasis in American Literature placed on the writings by America’s indigenous people, past and or present. I find this to be a humiliating ignominious dismissal of honorable writing talent, a denial of a writing talent that can play an integral albeit vital role within the realm of American Literature.
Navarro Scott Momaday is really still the only Native writer who has received distinguished merit in the literary world and he first did so with his book, “House Made of Dawn”, which won him the Pulitzer Prize in Fiction back in 1969. If you have not read this book, and consider yourself a well-read person, I say once again that you get a copy as soon as you are able to.
Despite all of Momaday’s writing success there still hasn’t been much done to bring the works of other indigenous writers to the forefront. I also see this trend within the art, music, and acting, realms as well, which again, is very unfortunate. Even Black writers, poets, actors, musicians, as a collective whole see more success than Native Americans within these creative fields. My question is why is it so hard for the Native writers, artists, muscians, actors to get noticed? I still cannot find a specific answer to this question to better help me understand this reality and if anyone out there has a clue or opinion to this, then please by all means, enlighten me.
The indigenous cultures of North America have stories of old oral traditions that are being captured by pen, brush, and instrument by a plethora of very talented indigenous writers, poets, artists, and even musicians, and yet they slip by barely noticed by the collective masses. Native American culture is steeped in oral tradition and the younger native generations are just now realizing that this oral tradition does need to be captured and contained within pages of bound books and codes of websites. It is the only way to save what should never be forgotten. There is a history deep-rooted here in this great North American continent that needs to be explored and remembered and the indigenous cultures are the only ones capable of bringing these stories to life-to share their experiences and truths. I have grown tired of seeing “non-natives” writing about Native American cultures, stories, traditions, and songs. It is a huge travesty to see writers who are not Native American writing about the "true Native experience" when they themselves are not Native. I also want to see more Native American literature being offered in English courses at the high school level and I want to see literature that is written by Native Americans themselves.
I have heard many literary scholars and critics make the accusation that Native American’s did not have a substantial English-language education until the mid to late nineties and that is the reason behind why indigenous writers are not recognized as highly within the literary world. This is a mendacious claim at best and one that is the malefactor behind the lack of notoriety indigenous writers in America are getting. I am sure it does play a partial role but I am more inclined to believe that a political role has the upper hand in this matter. Let me remind you that my relative, William Whipple Warren, wrote an amazing literary account of his time in the early 1800s. The book he wrote, “History of the Ojibway People” wasn’t published until after his death in 1885 but the book is still published today and has been used at the college level in “few” Native American studies programs.
The worth of William Warren’s book is great and I highly recommend this book to anyone interested in Native American Literature, culture, and history. I am not biased in recommending this book because he is a relative, I really truly believe it to be an honest account of the reality of the times. What I have always found astounding about his book is it opens doors to understanding the racism of that time period and the inner struggle the author had with being of “mixed-blood”. His father was white and his mother was French-Ojibway, he lived in both worlds in a time when one world was virtually devouring the other. To read his account of the changes and the occurrences that was happening around him really enlightens the reader to his difficult reality- perhaps a reality responsible for the decline of his health and cutting him down so early in life. William Whipple Warren had many plans to write more books and wanted desperately to write a book that documented and captured the culture of the Ojibway people before their “forced assimilation".
Much of what he wrote was tailored to suite the “Christian-minded” Anglo-Saxon “immigrants” on advice of his own “white” friends, who told him that Christian people would not be able to understand the spiritual beliefs or customs of the native people. In reality we all know what was meant by that sentiment, as we all know how “not-so” understanding Christians have been towards other religions and beliefs in the past-and present. Large portions of his book were indeed changed so it would be more widely accepted. This no-doubt upset him greatly because he wanted the truth to be told, as any good writer does. His experience was real and he wanted that reality to be shared in a hope that it would be understood. But that could not happen, he was ahead of his time, and I believe it was this knowledge that broke him so indescribably so.
I do know that a literary critic by the name of Kenneth Lincoln was the first to ever make an attempt to label the Native American Literary movement and he called it the Native American Renaissance in a book he wrote by that same name. However it was a name that was never utilized by the rest of the scholars of the literary world, instead they did what they did best-they criticized it. They even went so-far-as to say that the name had vexing implications and had disparaging connotations, and I am not so inclined to agree.
I personally believe that Kenneth Lincoln’s book is a seminal work that has opened doors ever so slightly into a realm of writing that deserves a name and deserves to be widely recognized as a specific literary movement. I am left pondering one essential question…if the critics and the almighty literary scholars found the name, Native American Renaissance, so demeaning, then why haven’t they come up with a better one? It has been over 20 years since Kenneth Lincoln coined a name and yet no one has tried since.
Just what is keeping the scholars and critics from acknowledging Native American writers on a grander scale? While I continue to ponder this question I will go about my time reading books by Navarro Scott Momaday, Joseph Bruchac, Douglas M. George Kanentiio, James Welch, Gerald Vizenor, Leslie Marmon Silko, Simon J. Ortiz, Nila Northsun, Louise Erdrich, Joy Harjo, Duane Niatum, Paula Gunn Allen……………..
I’ll leave you with your Cavalier Poets, your authors of Romanticism, Transcendentalism, Naturalism, Symbolism, Modernism; you can study writers of The Lost Generation, read poetry and prose from Imaginism or of Oulipo, or of any other movement if you so choose, but do not forget there are other writers out there, Native American or otherwise, who have words worthy of your attention that slip on by without notice, and it is such a shame. One thing is for sure, the written word is bound in time between leather and cardboard, so when we are all collectively ready to read beyond what we know as “great” literature, those books will be there waiting, perhaps a little dusty, but they will be there…………….and we will learn a great deal.
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