Source of book: borrowed from the library.
At the tail end of Native American Heritage Month (November), I checked out the display at our local library. This book was there, so I figured it would be a good one to read with my younger kids, given how much they enjoyed our Folk Tales book. This book was a bit different, but definitely worth the read.
I think the book deserves a bit of an explanation. Ella E. Clark was an English professor who spent her summers working in a fire lookout for the US Forest Service. Then, in the 1950s and 60s, she decided to compile Indigenous legends. Since she wasn’t a trained folklorist, some of her decisions, particularly some edits with the intent of making the tales more accessible to non-Indigenous Americans, have been criticized by modern scholars, but her body of work remains impressive.
Some of the stories she compiled were from prior written sources, such as anthropological studies and pioneer manuscripts. However, many of them she transcribed herself from stories told by native storytellers. As such, the stories have retained their less “Americanized” elements and idiosyncrasies - they don’t read like fairy tales, and certainly not like Disney versions. Ironically, one of the complaints I found in online reviews (yeah, I know - most are crap) was that the writing style was simple and maybe a bit wooden. I disagree with the wooden part - what seems more to be the case is that the stories were told in English by storytellers who may not have been able to convey the richness of the original languages the same way a truly excellent translator can.
Clark published these stories in several volumes, from different regions of North America. Later, Clark would team up with Margot Edmonds to combine the stories into a single book, adding additional material and background information. Voices of the Winds was first published in 1989, with the version we read being a republication in 2003.
Before I get into more detail about the stories, I did have two minor issues with the book. The first is that because of when it was written, it uses “Indian” throughout, rather than more currently preferred terms such as “Native American,” or better yet, the names of the various tribes. In some of the stories, the tribal names are used, but in others, the inaccurate generic was chosen. This issue, however, is clearly related to when Clark did her work. Times have changed since the 1950s, to put it mildly.
I should mention in Clark’s defense that the book is respectful throughout. While dated terminology is used, the book did not condescend or show a belief in white superiority. The stories and legends were told in the spirit they were heard, which wasn’t always the usual approach back in the mid-20th Century. Thus, the book shows its age, but has aged better than many works of its era.
The second gripe I had was about the typesetting and editing. There are a LOT of mistakes in the printing. Words with extra letters or letters missing, spaces added or subtracted, misspellings. I guess the budget cuts applied to that part of the process or something. I mean, I have found occasional issues in mainstream books too, but not on this scale. For most of them, I could read past the mistakes without issue, but there were a few I tripped over and had to re-read to get right. Disappointing, but not a fatal flaw.
So, more about the stories themselves. The book is divided into regions: Northwest, Southwest, Great Plains, Central, Southeast, Northeast. There is some overlap as a result, with Ute and Paiute split up, and a few other language groups oddly separated. Any arbitrary division will have this, of course.
The stories are of a broader range than the usual “folk tales” collection. Sure, many are the usual sort of myths and legends: creation stories, gods and heroes, how natural features came to be, magic, and so on. However, there are also first-hand accounts of medicine ceremonies and other rituals, stories about historical events involving real persons and events, tribal origin stories, and other accounts that might be considered oral history more than myth. This makes for a fascinating set of tales, certainly more varied than the European “princess” stories.
As with world folk tales generally, there is a certain amount of repetition. Every culture seems to have some sort of a flood story. Which is not surprising considering that most places in the world have experienced a catastrophic flood at some point. In the case of the American southwest, the entire landscape shows signs of past floods and water carving. Oh, and a lot of North America was underwater a long time ago, so we have coral reefs high on mountains. It should surprise nobody that there are explanations for all of these observable signs of the geologic past. (While it isn’t in this book, the Zuni pretty much got the major geological and paleontological ages correct in their creation myth. You can read about that in Behind the Bears Ears by R. E. Burrillo - and I recommend it.)
One of the several flood stories was particularly notable. The Yellowstone tribe tells about the flooding of the Yellowstone valley in a tale that involves a giant magic buffalo (bison) skin. What I found most fascinating is that the reason the Great Spirit sent the flood is that the humans stopped living in harmony with the animals, seeing them as expendable, and burned the forests and generally destroyed nature. This led to some, um, climate issues. Perhaps a bit too on point for our time?
Another origin story that was interesting is the one story from the land where I live, told by the Yokuts people. In their creation story, the earth started out without form, and underwater. (Sound familiar?) The crow and eagle found a tree stump to share, but no dry land. It took the work of a duck to bring up the mud and build the land. Because the eagle was smarter (or less ethical, take your pick), he secretly bribed the duck to put more mud on his side. The remains of the two piles of mud are now the Sierra Nevada (eagle’s side) and the shorter Coastal Range (crow’s side.) These two ranges surround the San Joaquin Valley, of course.
There are plenty of tales from other places we love to visit, from the Miwoks around Yosemite, to the Dine (Navajo) of Arizona, to the Utes of Utah, to the Dieguenos of southern California. But also from elsewhere - and the tales definitely vary by area, in significant part because of differences in climate and topography.
The animal mythology was a lot of fun for all of us. Some are well known: the coyote as the trickster (although rabbits and hares often take that role, as well as crows and ravens.) We tend to think of crows and ravens as bad omens, but they actually are usually good creatures in the indigenous stories. Probably the most surprising was that in the Northwest, the symbol of evil was…wait for it…the Mountain Sheep. Wait, what? But a memorable villain the sheep is in the stories.
Plants also play a key role in many of the stories. Corn is a central theme throughout the Americas: it seems nearly every tribe has a folk tale about how the gods gave humans the gift of corn. Sage and tobacco (two plants associated with medicine) take on significance throughout as well.
Just as in the world folk tales, there are some recurring themes that are a bit disturbing. I noted that in Europe and Asia, the last-born seems to be greatly favored, which is annoying to a first-born like myself. In these stories, however, birth order isn’t as indicative of how things will go. In some, the youngest wins out. In others, the brothers work together. In still others, the eldest dares greatly and succeeds.
The one thing that I found most disturbing, though, was the tendency to use violence against women (particularly mothers) as the means of doing magic. A typical story will have the woman instruct her children or husband to kill her, and drag her body around a plot of land, after which food will magically grow. Similarly, there are plenty of cases where women die more naturally and provide the same benefit. I suppose one might see this as a metaphor for the way mothers are expected to sacrifice themselves for the benefit of the men and children. But it still bothered me. That doesn’t mean the stories should have been omitted. Rather, they are best accompanied by a bit of discussion, like any story.
In fact, the book did lead to some interesting discussions. We talked about the removal of Native children to schools designed to force them to adopt white language, appearance, clothing, and ways of thinking - and to remove as much of their own culture, language, and stories from their memories as possible. My 11-year-old was horrified particularly at the idea that anyone could think that only people like them were worthwhile. Proving again that children aren’t born racist, but pick it up from their culture. Which is why my wife and I work to counteract the poisonous cultural messages that are unavoidable wherever you go in the United States.
One final note: I love that the book gives some background on each of the stories. Clark and Edmonds talk about the tribe of the story: where it originated, where it can be found now if removed from their ancestral homelands, and what language group it comes from. If the story was told by a particular, identifiable storyteller, his or her name is given. The date the story was first written down is indicated if known, and the source given. Often this information is fascinating, and I appreciate that the authors give credit where due. Many of the stories also have some literary context - the listener was expected to know who the characters were, for example, or where a place was. The authors fill this in as needed.
In summary, this book does have a few dated elements and imperfections, but overall provides a broad range of stories, presented respectfully and in context, and often reproduced directly from Indigenous storytellers. It’s a good introduction to the legends of North America’s first peoples.
***
Books by Indigenous authors that I have blogged about:
There There by Tommy Orange
LaRose by Louise Erdrich
The Night Watchman by Louise Erdrich
When the Light of the World Was Subdued, Our Songs Came Through (poetry anthology)
Also of interest:
The Other Slavery by Andres Resendez
Behind the Bears Ears by R. E. Burrillo
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