In our limited weekly series "In Their Own Words," we will be featuring Kara Stewart's exclusive book reviews, as well as interviews with Native creators. Our series concludes with Stewart interviewing Angeline Boulley, Eric Gansworth, and Darcie Little Badger about their powerful young adult books.

In my August 2020 article Strategies for Teaching Seven Native-Centered Books to K-12 Students, I spoke of a contemporary renaissance of recently published Native-centered books. We are now on the cusp of, if not already diving into, that long-awaited phenomenon. Thankfully, agents, editors, and publishers have become increasingly aware of the need for accurate, lived-experience-driven Native books for all kids.

I share with you here some not-to-be-missed Native chapter book, middle grade, and young adult releases from 2020 and 2021—their fully unfurled words have blossomed into leafy vines of expression of our hope, strength, and resilience. In further gift to us, each author offers their own heartfelt words about their book and their journey to bring it from seed to fruit.

Young Adult

BOULLEY, Angeline. Firekeeper’s Daughter. Holt. 2021. ISBN 9781250766564.

Ojibwe girl Daunis Fontaine and her tight-knit family have been through a lot in her 18 years, so she’s looking forward to a fresh start at college. But she witnesses unthinkable family tragedy and is pulled into a police investigation. Where, and to whom, does her loyalty lie? What is the right thing to do?

Chock-full of Ojibwe information, impassioned elders, romance, and community ties and responsibilities, this crime mystery packs a punch!

Photo by Angeline Boulley

What is the main takeaway you would like readers to get from reading this book?

I hope they come away with a more nuanced view of tribal communities like mine. There are too few stories about and by Native Americans. We are still here and have dynamic stories to tell. I hope it helps those who want to reconnect with their communities, cultural teachings, and language. Most of all, I hope teens find an aspect of the story that resonates with them.  

What do you like to know about an author? What do you like to see in a book?

I'm always fascinated by authors' writing processes, especially revisions. I am a visual learner, so I appreciate seeing story maps and spreadsheets.

Which Native writers of adult literature do you read? Who resonates with you and why?

Marcie R. Rendon writes in the sensory, rich way Anishinaabe storytellers describe places and characters—with such vivid eloquence that you are transported into the story. Cherie Dimaline's writing evokes every emotion in an entire spectrum that stays with you long after you finish reading. Kelli Jo Ford's debut is a master class in voice. Everything Louise Erdrich writes feels like home.

GANSWORTH, Eric. Apple: Skin to the Core. Levine Querido. 2020. ISBN 9781646140138.

To call this multiple award–winning book a memoir doesn’t do it justice, nor does calling it poetry. The description often found online—memoir-in-verse—comes close, but this book is so much more. From the pop culture conceit of vinyl records (side A, side B) and Beatles references to the structural variation of each piece, breadth of historical context, and depth of emotion, this is a journey to understand one’s self. Gansworth poignantly tells his Onondaga story, the story of generations before him, and in so many ways, the story of all Native people. In doing so, he powerfully reclaims the term “apple,” with all its negative racial connotations and reinvents it as a symbol of strength, endurance, and willingness to self-reflect. This is a book to read slowly, savor, simmer, and revisit. Gansworth and I are from different Native tribes, but I can clearly see myself, my family, and my tribe in his words. I’m looking forward to revisiting and further processing the several dozen phrases and stanzas I flagged on first read.

Photo by bydellas

What is the main takeaway you would like readers to get from reading this book?

The biggest drive for me, maybe the reality I accepted (and the intimidating scope that had kept me away from memoir for so long), is that being born and raised deeply within an Indigenous community, I knew any memoir would also involve telling stories of other community members’ lives, too. I’d like readers to recognize that the poems that feature other people aren’t side trips, but instead are integral parts of the story. For better or worse, growing up in a community that tight shapes who you are.

What do you wish I would ask you about your book? What would you like to say about the finished product, the creation, or the publishing process?

I find the process important. I used to be super precious about my work, highly resistant to the idea of editing. This is not uncommon, but some writers continue to have this stance for their careers. Maybe it suits them. I had a draft done maybe ten years ago. It didn’t look like it does now. Though it is fundamentally the same project, it has grown and shifted. I had invitations to publish it, but they didn’t seem like the right fit at the time. I’ve also had editors pass at presses I’d really hoped to find a home, saying ludicrous things like, “We don’t publish autobiographical narrative poetry.” I submitted to the presses I did because I had studied their lists, read their backlist. They were the presses I felt most kinship with because I knew their work. It’s fine if you don’t like my work, obviously, you have the power of yes or no in this situation, but what is to be gained in offering a “polite lie” that neither you nor I believe? I wish they would respect writers’ commitment to submission research more.

Which Native writers of adult literature do you read? Who resonates with you and why?

The tricky part of a question like this is I know as soon as I hit send, I’ll remember five more people who should automatically have been here. Louise Erdrich was one of the first, when I was 19, leaving a major impression, and that has remained true ever since. Encountering her voice, situations, and maybe most of all, her sense of humor was the first time I felt I’d come across a narrative that reflected reservation life as I know it. Susan Power was an exciting find, as well, for similar reasons. I like that David Treuer has a sense of adventure in a form that I would never dare try. Stephen Graham Jones has pulled off the career I’d aspired to when I began writing. Our lives aren’t hugely like one another’s, but something in the sensibility offered the kinship. I was writing and publishing for adults a long time before I began working on pieces for younger folks. At the poetry end, Joy Harjo and Simon J. Ortiz were guiding beacons who will remain so forever. I read Heid Erdrich and Mark Turcotte, but not just because we’re friends. One of the loveliest things about living in the Native writing world is that you can end up becoming longtime friends with writers you knew through their work first. I like the boldness of form in Layli Long Soldier’s work, and the clean but complex, well, autobiographical, narrative poems of Natalie Diaz, and the downhome feeling I have when I read Denise Lajimodiere. I admire the stylistic challenges James Thomas Stevens sets up for himself and Sherwin Bitsui’s poems often make me feel like I’m dreaming. And of course, the list goes on.

LITTLE BADGER, Darcie. Elatsoe. illus. by Rovina Cai. Levine Querido. 2020. ISBN 9781646140053.

In a world that is what we know, and yet more than what we know, Lipan Apache teen Elatsoe’s favorite cousin comes to her in a dream to name his killer. Ellie must bring the guilty to justice with the help of her longtime best friend Jay, and her ghost-dog Kirby. Like her six-times-great-grandmother and namesake, Elatsoe has the power to raise the ghosts of dead animals, sometimes with surprising results!

Infused with the importance of Lipan Apache culture, stories, and family, this intriguing story set in an odd little town has appeal on many levels.

Photo by Darcie Little Badger

What is the main takeaway you would like readers to get from reading this book?

Above all, I hope that readers are entertained by Elatsoe and leave the book with a sense of hope.

What do you wish I would ask you about your book? What would you like to say about the finished product, the creation, or the publishing process?

I love when people ask me about ghosts. In the book, Ellie has the ability to wake up the ghosts of animals, and different species have different supernatural powers. I will always be sad that I had to cut a dinosaur from the finished book (a decision I made very early in the writing process). It was going to be a momma Allosaurus guarding her fossilized eggs. I like to imagine that Ellie will encounter the ghost dino as a paranormal investigator someday.

Which Native writers of adult literature do you read? Who resonates with you and why?

I'm a big fan of horror; 70% of the books on my shelf are scary. That said, I guess it's not a surprise that Stephen Graham Jones is one of my most-read adult lit writers. His stories are in a lot of the "best of" and themed horror anthologies I enjoy, and I love the impact and variety of his longer work, too.

Kara Stewart (Sappony) is a Native Educational Equity Consultant, reading specialist, and writer. She has served many years on the Sappony Tribal Council and the North Carolina State Advisory Council on Indian Education. She was the 2020 United Tribes of North Carolina Indian Educator of the Year and has been a literacy coach and teacher in the public schools for 23 years with a focus on literacy and culturally responsive teaching about Native people. She was the 2014 Lee & Low Books New Voices Honor Award winner for her picture book manuscript.