Monkey Beach

by Eden Robinson

Five hundred miles north of Vancouver is Kitamaat, an Indian reservation in the homeland of the Haisla people. Growing up a tough, wild tomboy, swimming, fighting, and fishing in a remote village where the land slips into the green ocean on the edge of the world, Lisamarie has always been different.

Visited by ghosts and shapeshifters, tormented by premonitions, she can't escape the sense that something terrible is waiting for her. She recounts her enchanted yet scarred life as she journeys in her speedboat up the frigid waters of the Douglas Channel. She is searching for her brother, dead by drowning, and in her own way running as fast as she can toward danger. Circling her brother's tragic death are the remarkable characters that make up her family: Lisamarie's parents, struggling to join their Haisla heritage with Western ways; Uncle Mick, a Native rights activist and devoted Elvis fan; and the headstrong Ma-ma-oo (Haisla for "grandmother"), a guardian of tradition.

Haunting, funny, and vividly poignant, Monkey Beach gives full scope to Robinson's startling ability to make bedfellows of comedy and the dark underside of life. Informed as much by its lush living wilderness as by the humanity of its colorful characters, Monkey Beach is a profoundly moving story about childhood and the pain of growing older--a multilayered tale of family grief and redemption.

Genres: Fiction, Indigenous, Canada, Magical Realism, Fantasy, Book Club, Contemporary

384 pages, Paperback

First published January 25, 2000

About the author

Eden Victoria Lena Robinson (born 19 January 1968) is a Canadian novelist and short story writer.

Born in Kitamaat, British Columbia, she is a member of the Haisla and Heiltsuk First Nations. She was educated at the University of Victoria and the University of British Columbia.

Reviews

[Shelby *trains flying monkeys* · Rating 4 out of 5]

Books like this are exactly why I love Netgalley. I never would have found this book except for through that website. You have to wade through a whole lot of not so good books and then you find one..like this one..that just makes your heart sing.

Monkey Beach-that magical place that b'gwus (Sasquatches) are.

"Jimmy," Dad said. "Sasquatches are make believe, like fairies. They don't really exist."

Or do they?

This book follows Lisa Marie Michelle Hill on her journey through her memories after her brother Jimmy is lost from a fishing boat. It's based on her stories of her family and growing up on a Haisla reservation.

Weaved through Lisa's pain and terror of losing her brother is stories of her childhood. This is some of the very best blending of mysticism and reality that I've read. Lisa's Ma-ma-oo and Uncle Mick became characters that came to life under this writer's hand. I thought I could smell the ocean and taste the fish as she described each detail.


Lisa is visited by a small red haired man that usually brings hard times in her life. She also has the gift of seeing ghosts..this is not a ghost story though..just the best kind of storytelling. Lisa is not the typical main character either. Her nickname is "Monster" because she is fearless. A group of boys are circling her taunting her and she frigging attacks and comes out the better..that's the type of character this is.



I'm giving it four stars only because the ending left me wanting more. I can't wait to see if I can find more of Eden Robinson's writing.

I received an arc copy of this book from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.

[Elizabeth (Plant Based Bride) · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book picked me up and washed me away with the tide. Reading it felt like drifting just below the surface of the ocean, watching the distorted, muffled world above through a jade green film.

Gripping yet mundane, soft and sweet and funny in the in between moments, pain and grief and anger and loss just beneath, healed over roughly with a scab that breaks and bleeds and must be tended to again and again.

My thoughts are spinning and my heart hurts. All I know is that I loved this book with every single fibre of my being.



Full review to come.

[luce (cry bebè's back from hiatus) · Rating 5 out of 5]

“Names have power. This is the fundamental principle of magic everywhere. Call out the name of a supernatural being, and you will have its instant and undivided attention in the same way that your lost toddler will have yours the second it calls your name.”

First published in 2000 Monkey Beach is a deeply evocative and multilayered coming of age. Monkey Beach transports its readers to Northwest British Columbia, to Kitamaat, home to the Haisla people. After her younger brother Jimmy goes missing during a fishing expedition, twenty-year-old Lisamarie Hill is overwhelmed by grief. As she makes her way to the place he was last seen, Lisa looks back to her childhood and teenage years. Lisa recollections ring incredibly true to life. The author captures the way children think and speak, celebrating moments of silliness and happiness that occur between siblings and childhood friends. While there are many moments of lightness in Lisa's childhood, the author doesn't shy away from portraying the many injustices and struggles experienced by indigenous people. Lisa's relationships with her family members—in particular, her loving uncle Mick and her resilient Ma-ma-oo—are as powerful as they are moving.
As a child, Lisa is very much a 'tomboy'. She doesn't back down from a fight, has a bit of a temper, enjoys getting into scrapes that frequently land her into trouble. Her uncle is her biggest fan and their interactions are simply a joy to read. I also liked that although Lisa does exhibit some of those 'Not Like Other Girls' traits, the narrative ultimately subverts this, introducing us to multiple tough girls and by not dismissing those girls Lisa had a falling out with.
The author depicts the realities of growing up indigenous and female, emphasizing the importance of family ties, however knotty these may be, and Haisla beliefs and customs. The narrative also delves into magical realism territories as throughout her youth Lisa is visited by a strange if ominous figure. Lisa's premonitions and her ability to see ghosts are a terrible weight as she is often unable to stop tragedies from unfolding.

This novel has easily some of the most realistic dialogues and interactions that I have ever come across in a book. The setting is as vividly rendered as the characters, and there are many stunning descriptions of the landscapes surrounding Lisa.
While I wouldn't necessarily recommend this to lovers of plot or fast-moving narratives, Monkey Beach will definitely resonate with those readers who are looking for a nuanced family portrait. I truly appreciated that while the author manages to convey with crystal-clear clarity Lisa's childhood, some things in her story retain a sense of ambiguity.
While the first half of this novel is brimming with more light-hearted moments, the latter half is heartbreaking and unexpectedly dark. Lisa's voice and character arc were truly compelling and I found myself not wanting to reach the end (as that would mean saying goodbye to her).

I came across an interview in which Emily St. John Mandel says that Monkey Read is her favourite book to re-read, and I actually think that this novel would indeed appeal to fans of Mandel (the remote & atmospheric setting, the magical realism). Readers who enjoyed Hannah Tinti's The Twelve Lives of Samuel Hawley should also consider giving Monkey Beach a shot as the two share a similar 'feel'. The symbolism, as well as Undercutting the novel's nostalgic atmosphere, which is largely established by the story's time period and themes (childhood, adolescence), is this supernatural element that in many ways brought to mind the work of Neil Gaiman. Both authors highlight the dangerous nature of magic, dreams, and so on.

Monkey Beach was a truly absorbing read, one that I am already looking forward to reading again.

re-read #3:
still very much in love this.

[Jennifer (formerly Eccentric Muse) · Rating 4 out of 5]

Intriguing but inconsistent. I couldn't get a grip on the main character (Lisamarie) or the stages/phases of her development; there was something off for me in terms of the timeline. Events - shocking, sudden deaths of important characters, for example - seem to happen "off-stage" with only their longer-term impacts discussed (again, intriguing, but the style left me disconnected from the narrative as a whole). A lot was mentioned in passing or so indirectly that it lost its impact (e.g., Mick and Trudy and the residential schools, Lisamarie's rape). These were defining moments, and what we actually saw in the narrative were their effects playing out, primarily on Lisamarie but on others as well. It is, in many ways, absolutely fantastic: it really isn't the event itself that defines us, it's our response to it, right? But the more I think about it, the more I like it as an idea in the novel; I'm still troubled by its execution.

Also, passages intending to be slightly experimental (all the stuff about the heart) were dropped in and never really came together as crucial pieces of the story - adding the poetry or metaphor that I think was Robinson's intention. They were stylistically so different from the rest of the text they were hard to really integrate with the overall reading experience.

There were so many great ideas in this book - and while the cumulative effect of all of them swirling like the fog on the ocean which Robinson describes so well, or the night lightening to a grey dawn (another frequent image) is in fact the defining style of the book, it just doesn't make it over the line from great idea(s) to great execution of great idea(s).

Still, there is LOTS here to love. Monkey Beach paints a vivid portrait of what it must be like growing up on a northern BC First Nations reserve. It's beautifully atmospheric, and there's a really strong sense of the landscape and its importance, as well as its degradation. There's a strong sense - yet another great idea - that the community/culture is holding on by a hair, much like the Sasquatch/b'gwus myth, which features prominently.

The East Vancouver section, although brief, was really telling in terms of the details it reveals about the community, the culture, the incredible difficulty of reconciling the northern Native links to the land and sea and the lure of the city for kids caught between two worlds.

And speaking of two worlds - the physical and the spiritual - Lisamarie's 'gift' and passages related to it were gorgeously rendered in that magical realist way that First Nations writers seem to be able to pull off with such dexterity. I loved *all* of the magical sections in this work. I think they may be Robinson's great accomplishment here.

Lisamarie's relationship with Mick and Ma-ma-moo; her feelings and presentation of numbness, desperation and sadness; and her frequent dissociation were also all quite powerful. The numbness and dissociation and the many types of imagery attached to them especially, work on a physical, emotional, and spiritual level. They resonate with individual, collective, and cultural isolation and death.

Lisamarie was lost and traumatized, like the Haisla tribe, like so many Indigenous cultures overall. It's almost what all contemporary Indigenous (i.e., based out of N. America) literature is about. It's the essential commonality in so much of this work. And this book makes an important contribution to it.

This novel would have benefitted from some focus, maybe. I wanted Robinson to really dig in to one story line, one idea and follow it all the way through. The only constant was the search for Jimmy, but it wasn't perhaps the strongest one to provide the structure that was needed.

So, I'd say this is a 3.5. A worthwhile read, not least because female Indigenous novelists are under-represented in the canon.

[Maciek · Rating 4 out of 5]

Find a map of British Columbia...

Eden Robinson's debut Monkey Beach is set in the north coast of BC, just where the Alaskan Aleutian Islands and the province's own Charlotte Islands begin. There lies the city of Kitimat, surrounded by picturesque mountains and pine trees of the Pacific Northwest. "Kitimat" comes from the Thshimian language, and means "people/place of the snow" - an answer that they gave to European explorers when asked about the place and people who inhabited it - the Haisla.

Monkey Beach is narrated in the first person by Lisamarie Michelle Hill, a teenage girl growing up in Kitimaat village, a Haisla reservation south of the city. The wilderness five hundred miles north of Vancouver is demanding, but enchanted: Lisa isn't afraid to swim or hunt, and she feels a connection with the world of the spirits. However, everything changes the day when her younger brother goes missing at sea. The novel opens on the morning after his disappearance.

Monkey Beach is the first English-language novel written by a Haisla writer; and it couldn't be a better debut. Eden Robinson is terrific and beautifully captures the essence of living in a small, tightly-knit community which despite its remoteness cannot ignore the events of the country - and world - which slowly, but surely, will influence also their way of life. Lisamarie Hill is a great protagonist - she's a feisty terror but is ultimately very likable and one that we'll care and root for, and her voice is believable, honest and authentic. The rest of the cast doesn't drag behind - especially Lisa's paternal grandmother, Ma-ma-oo, who teaches her about the ways of the Haisla and the spirit world, along with her uncle Mick - her paternal uncle, a seemingly jovial bachelor who just recently returned home after many years in the American Indian Movement. All this is enveloped by the sights, sounds and smells (and apparitions!) of Robinson's native BC. One can almost see the ocean and breathe the fresh air.

If I had to specify one complaint, it would be this - I wanted more! I grew attached to the story and its characters, and the places they inhabited, and wanted to stay there for a while longer. Like Louise Erdrich, Eden Robinson has a great ability to create interesting characters and tackle on a multitude of themes, and I wished to experience more of her skill. Th novel does seem to run out of steam by the end, which seems to be contrived when compared to the easy, natural flow of the rest of the text; but it's a small flaw of a really quite lovely and underrated book. I'd definitely like to read more of Eden Robinson's work and would like to return to this novel in the future.

[Paul Weiss · Rating 3 out of 5]

“Six crows sit in our greengage tree. Half-awake, I hear them speak to me in Haisla.”

It would seem to be an ugly reality that dealing with tragedy is the default state of aboriginal communities in Canada’s north – death by disease, residential schools, alcoholism, drug abuse, murder and rape of aboriginal women, racism and xenophobia, inadequate infrastructure, the list seems interminable. Lisamarie Hill’s seventeen year old brother Jimmy, an Olympic hopeful for Team Canada’s swimming team, has mysteriously vanished at sea. MONKEY BEACH, ostensibly the location of Jimmy’s drowning and the site of multiple sasquatch sightings, is the story of Lisamarie’s troubled coming of age, her loss of innocence, her journey through the mysticism and mythology of her Haisla lore, and her attempt to deal with that loss, among others.

Eden Robinson’s portrayal of Lisamarie’s young years - her adolescence, her relationships with her parents, her grandmother, her uncle and her brother, and her learning to deal with her gift of “the sight” – is a piece of masterful writing laced with poignant beauty and emotional impact ranging from humour to gut-wrenching pathos. I couldn’t begin to tell you why but I was particularly taken with this brief passage, for example, detailing her grandmother’s preparation of a salmonberry dessert stew:

“After picking out the bugs, leaves and twigs, Ma-ma-oo would transfer all the berries to a clean bowl and mulch them all together. She added a few tablespoons of oolichan grease, stirring all the time, then added a sprinkling of sugar. She’d leave the bowl in the fridge for another hour to let the flavours meld and we’d watch some more TV until the salmonberry stew was ready, then we’d go into the kitchen and Ma-ma-oo would give me a little dessert bowl. We’d eat in respectful silence, Ma-ma-oo closing her eyes in ecstasy as she ate. The grease makes the berries sinfully rich, as thick as cheesecake. We’d split the stew, and I’d take my half home, so full I felt sleepy.”

For those readers not familiar with west coast aboriginal cuisine, by the way, oolichan is a smelt-like fish that is so greasy that it can be made to burn like a candle. It is well deserving of the name “candlefish”.

But the plot … well, that’s a problem, I’d say! When I reviewed another Eden Robinson offering, SON OF A TRICKSTER, I put forward the unquestionably harsh opinion,

“But this thing is an incomprehensible hot mess … Maclean’s magazine commented, “Robinson has a gift for making disparate elements come together into a convincing narrative, …” Well, I’ll agree the story elements were certainly disparate. But, as far as I could see, they started disparate and remained that way. The plot was muddy, confusing, and impossible to track. Indeed, to this reader, plot was all but non-existent.”

I feel constrained to offer a similar but perhaps slightly mitigated opinion with respect to MONKEY BEACH. Although the story is narrated in first person format by Lisamarie, it is absolutely impossible to pull apart the threads and distinguish between flashbacks, her guesses or predictions for her future, mystical dreams, fantastical imaginations and voyages through the power of her “sight” to aboriginal places of mythology, or, of course, simple narration of present day events. In short, as in SON OF A TRICKSTER, the plot of MONKEY BEACH remained impenetrable but its overall literary value, unlike that of SON OF A TRICKSTER, was rescued by its convincing, enjoyable and moving emotional impact.

Recommended but be warned. MONKEY BEACH is not a quick or easy read. I dare say that, even if you keep your mind focused on the story every second the book is in your hand, you will still encounter difficulties and feel more than a bit muddled as you make your way through it.

Paul Weiss

[L.G. Cullens · Rating 4 out of 5]

Umm, this was a strange one, interesting enough to keep me reading.

Basically, it is a circular story of a Haisla girl coming of age, intertwined with a passing of age.

You'll find in it what I thought well executed youthful angst, rebelliousness, impetuousness, and naïveness, portrayed with imagination bordering on bizarre because life can be perplexingly boring.

Any more than that I'll leave you to ponder in reading the book.

[Angela M · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5 rounded up to 4


Originally pub in 2002 and , nominated for multiple awards, this coming of age story is a powerful story of place, of family, of grief, of one's roots. The setting is the amazing geography of the Pacific Northwest on the coast of British Columbia. It is the land of the Haisla Indian in Kitamat Village ,

At the start of the novel, we meet 20 year old Lisa Marie Hill, who is struggling along with her family in trying to deal with the disappearance of her younger brother Jimmy. Lisa's story unfolds through a series of flashbacks to her child hood years and then her troubled teens. It is through these flashbacks that we learn more about the Haisla history and traditions, kept alive by Ma-ma-oo her grandmother, a wonderful wise woman. We see Lisa trying to come to terms with her gift , her ability seeing beyond into the spiritual world - ghosts and ominous predictions.

The story was a bit too dark for me at times and it had more of a young adult feel, but I found Lisa’s journey to find her brother gripping, as she looks for Jimmy and in the end finds herself. Recommended to those interested in this area and its people .


Thanks to Open Road Media and NetGalley

[BrokenTune · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Weegit the raven has mellowed in his old age. He's still a confirmed bachelor, but he's not the womanizer he once was. Plying the stock market - instead of spending his time being a trickster - has paid off and he has a comfortable condo downtown. He plays up the angle about creating the world and humans, conveniently forgetting that he did it out of boredom. Yes, he admits, he did steal the sun and the moon, but he insists he did it to bring light to humankind even though he did it so it would be easier for him to find food. After some spin control on the crazy pranks of his youth, he's become respectable."

Now this was a realistic coming of age novel with a twist. What a ride!

The story is set in Kitamaat, north of Vancouver, and follows young Lisamarie growing up in the Haisla community. Lisamarie is different - she's pretty tough, taking no nonsense from anyone, but she also has a very sensitive side which allows her to fully experience the beliefs of her people - from the close ties with the natural surroundings to the manifestations of the supernatural.

It is difficult to describe this book. It's a mystery really. It is not a book about the supernatural as such, but Robinson does spin this web that links myth and reality and that makes it very easy to suspend disbelief and slide from one world of facts into the world of folklore.

Absolutely loved it!

[John Gilbert · Rating 4 out of 5]

I agree with L. G. Cullins, this is indeed a strange book, but very interesting.

I have no idea why I bought this book and really did not know what it was about and struggled with it for a couple of months. But once I got to around 75% through, I did some research and found all the places in this book exist and I studied the map of the area in Northwest British Columbia where it all takes place. Having been to that part of the world, it is indeed both remote and gorgeous. The Haisla are a native Canadian tribe and Kitamaat Village is indeed a place, as is Monkey Beach.

The narrative is very disjointed, one rarely knows what time frame the story is in and our heroine Lisamarie is an imperfect young woman doing it tough in a very different place than I have ever been in my life.

Highly recommended, there is so much knowledge to be found in this story, I found there is now a movie of this book which premiered at the Vancouver Film Festival in September this year. I look forward to hopefully seeing it.

[Petra · Rating 3 out of 5]

LIsamarie tells her story while waiting to hear news of her brother after the boat he was on sinks.

There are a lot of themes mixed into this book to bring about the feeling of today's Haisla people (or all indigenous people, perhaps). There's the problems left behind by the residential schools; the loss of language, customs & knowledge; living on a reservation; isolation; despair and much more.

Told from Lisamarie's perspective and with an intermingling of her "gift" of being able to see & sense the Other World this story has the gaps of Lisamarie has. She doesn't know the whole story and neither do we. We know what she does. It can be confusing at times. However, never is the thread lost and the elements of the mystical Other World are perfectly blended into the real life side of this story.

This book shows some of the issues the young Indigenous people deal with today and how they come about. Being surrounded by the past (remembered & forgotten) leads to a disconnect that affects the whole. But never is Hope extinguished. This is a strong tale of a resilient People.

[Juniper · Rating 2 out of 5]

2.5-stars, if we could.

there was much about this novel that was appealing, particularly the aspects of native culture, and the settings. lisa's relationship with ma-ma-oo was my favourite piece of the book, and the knowledge lisa gained from her grandmother was so interesting to me. robinson deals with some very difficult themes within native culture. given the current unacceptable and heartbreaking situation in canada concerning the murdered and missing indigenous women, this is a very timely read.

unfortunately, there's a 'but' coming... but i just didn't feel like this book pulled everything it was trying to do together well enough. some of the characters were very thinly developed and some situations seemed without purpose. by the end of the book, i just felt disappointed, as though the book didn't quite reach its potential.

i do think this is an important book for the canadian canon, and there were definitely parts i thought were quite strong. i just didn't feel the overall quality of the writing was mind-blowing, and it was inconsistent. i am sorry! i really wanted to love the book.

(as an aside -- i am wondering how my reading impacted my feelings of the novel? i read this as part of a group read, and stuck to the reading schedule, which is hard for me to do. normally i would read a book of this length in a couple of days. in keeping to the group read, i read it over 3 weeks. i do feel my experience with the book may have been stronger if i had not drawn it out so long, with long pauses between reading session.)

[Carrie Kellenberger · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a beautiful book to read, and one that I will read again. Eden Robinson does a wonderful job of capturing the essence of Northern British Columbia's indigenous people, the Haisla. The story, which is narrated by 19-year-old Lisamarie Hill, opens with the news that Lisa's 18-year-old brother has gone missing. Her brother's disappearance triggers Lisa's memories of the deaths of her uncle and grandmother. As the present story develops, Lisa relives those moments in her childhood and reveals how she deals with death, grief, drug and alcohol abuse, and sexuality. She carries on living with her anger and uses her rage as a way of coping with life. During these revelations, we learn that Lisa has inherited spiritual powers from both sides of her family, and her visions and sightings of supernatural beings such as ghosts and sasquatches lend a thrilling psychological edge to the novel.

[Emmeline · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5 stars

This book has been on my to-read list since it came out in, erm, the year 2000. It’s been physically in my home for seven years, my parents also own a copy, and my sister has been bugging me to read it. I even took it off the shelf once, and promptly lost it in a pile.

Obviously, the potential for too-high expectations was there, and I won’t pretend I loved every single editorial choice the author made but I will say that this is certainly a modern Canadian classic and I loved it.

It’s set in the reservation village of Kitimat in central, coastal British Columbia, which is very similar to where I grew up (and somewhat close, at a mere 16 hour drive, haha). Robinson’s attention to detail about climate, topography, wildlife, landscape and particularly the social context is superb, and one of the book’s chief pleasures is this minutiae of plants and animals, traditional food and how it is made, factoids about how clams reproduce, wonderfully observed accounts of camping trips in search of fish, and among all that, a stream of magic—the existence, or not, of traditional Haisla ghosts and sasquatches.

The story opens with Lisa Hill as a young adult. Her brother Jimmy has just gone missing at sea. The story circles back through her childhood and adolescence, her family, the history of the region, the legacy of residential schools, the erosion of the traditional way of life and her uncle Mick’s association with the American Indian Movement, the many difficulties faced by First Nations youth, including some very heart-in-the-mouth scenes in downtown Vancouver that were quite chilling for me to read from a different perspective. The final story was quite a bit bleaker than I expected and perhaps hoped for, but Lisa herself was often a humorous character, and all the social problems are addressed with nuance.

Apparently Monkey Beach is on the later high school curriculum in some parts of Canada. There was an occasional whiff of YA about it—and Robinson has gone on to write YA—but this is an adult book, a sad, magical and very local one.

[Liviania · Rating 4 out of 5]

MONKEY BEACH is one of those books were I am honestly unsure about how I feel about it. I suspect Robinson prefers it that way. MONKEY BEACH slips and slides between the past and the presents, tying the disparate parts of heroine Lisamarie's life together in unexpected ways. The nominal driving force of the novel is the disappearance of Lisamarie's older brother, Jimmy. He was on a fishing boat that disappeared; however, he is a great swimmer and there are tons of islands, so there's a small chance he died. At first it seems odd that Lisamarie would disgress so much, pondering her uncle Mick (for example) instead of focusing on Jimmy. But it all works together, in a rough sort of way.

This is a hard novel to describe, because nothing much happens in MONKEY BEACH, yet it is a very tumultuous novel. Life is enough to provide humor and tragedy without big events. MONKEY BEACH is also a very dark novel. Education in boarding schools looms over the heads of the previous generation. Other injustices against the Haisla and other First Nations people continue. The heroine is date raped, in a thankfully non-explicit scene. Secrets bubble out of every corner. Death, drugs, alcohol, sex - they're never far. At the same time, Lisamarie has an incredible, loving family, a real shot at the future, and a few good friends.

I really loved Lisamarie. She's angry, prickly, and too foolhardy for her own good. She also sees things - a little man who fortells deaths, for instance. Lisamarie never has much hope of Jimmy's survival. It's a power she seeks to learn more about, but she's still not the type to bear it with grace.

I may not entirely know how I feel about the novel, but MONKEY BEACH was an absorbing reading experience. I felt a little like I was in Kitamaat, especially when Lisamarie described fish grease in detail.

[CaseyTheCanadianLesbrarian · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is one of my all-time favourite books that I've read probably four times. It was the first book I read that really brought the area of the world I grew up in to life and made me realize that it could be the setting for amazing literature. Robinson is a fiercely talented writer. I would read anything that she's written.

[Jodi · Rating 5 out of 5]

I've been reading a bit of Indigenous stuff lately and find it, oddly, very comforting.

I was born in Brantford, Ontario, and when I was young, my father told me—repeatedly and for years—that I was adopted from the First Nations reserve there. I didn't look like others in my family—my complexion was darker and my hair was dark and straight, while theirs was lighter and curly. I'm not certain he knew I took all he said to heart, but when he was gone—and I was in my 30s and still confused—I asked my Mom the truth. She was surprised I'd believed it all that time! So, it turns out I was not adopted (parents, please be careful what you tell your kids!). Even so, I've always felt—still do—a strong kinship with First Nations peoples. They've sometimes had a tough go of it; thing haven't always come easy. I can relate to that.

Monkey Beach was a great story. It was, at times, tough to read, but Lisamarie was an incredibly strong young woman; I admired her. At the end, my heart felt broken, but it didn't seem as though the story was over. I hope it will continue with a sequel some day.

[Krista · Rating 4 out of 5]

God knows what the crows are trying to say. La'es – go down to the bottom of the ocean, to get snagged in the bottom, like a halibut hook stuck on the ocean floor; a boat sinking, coming to rest on the bottom. The seiner sank? Mom and Dad are in danger if they go on a boat? I should go after him? I used to think that if I could talk to the spirit world, I'd get some answers. Ha bloody ha. I wish the dead would just come out and say what they mean instead of being so passive-aggressive about the whole thing.

Monkey Beach is a very dream-like book; a story of talking crows and premonitions and a little girl who can talk with the dead. Set in the near-wilds of the northern B.C. Coast, in the heart of Kitamaat Village (the townsite of the traditional lands of the Haisla First Nation), the connection between people and nature – and the blurred lines between this world and the next – makes it seem entirely possible that you might hear the Stone Man whistling for his dogs or catch sight of a B'gwus (Sasquatch) disappearing into the woods. It is also a story of family and despair and the struggle that Natives have to straddle the competing worlds of tradition and progress.

As the book begins, Lisamarie has recently returned to Kitamaat Village and receives news that her younger brother Jimmy – off on a commercial fishing boat for the first time – is missing; the boat presumed lost. As her parents fly off to be closer to the search, Lisa flounders, and as she decides what she can do to help, her mind bounces around her memories, eventually filling in her own fascinating history and that of her family. Of particular interest are her Uncle Mick (a former radical with the American Indian Movement) and her grandmother – Ma-ma-oo – who teaches Lisa about gathering berries and traditional medicines, but who also loves to watch Dynasty and hisses advice to Krystal and Alexis.

Lisa's childhood as a hard-fighting, back-talking tomboy is gripping (Uncle Mick calls her “Monster”), but especially so because she often gets a visit from a phantom red-haired man in the middle of the night before trouble strikes; Lisa has special gifts that bring clarity and foreboding to the plot. Even so, even if it's to deal with the gifts she didn't ask for, it's uncomfortable to watch Lisa make bad choices – smoking and drinking and going to raucous parties with her peers from grade seven on – and this view of Reserve life is one I don't think I've seen before: Although some mention is made of the Residential Schools and their terrible legacy, Lisa's parents hadn't attended one, and by all accounts, they are loving and protective and hopeful for their children's futures; so how does Lisa become so lost when her family is watching over her? Coming out of seemingly nowhere, no one but Lisa herself is to blame. It is especially distressing when Lisa eventually decides to take off (true, after suffering some tragedies) and she makes her way to Vancouver's Lower East Side: just like when I read Birdie, I wish there was some clue here about what sends these vulnerable young women right into the heart of danger.

The writing in Monkey Beach has such an earthy energy; author Eden Robinson blends myth and reality in a thoroughly modern style, repeatedly capturing the essence of the Haisla people and their place in the changing world. I enjoyed the writing most when Robinson was describing hidden places:

Headstones carved into eagles, blackfish, ravens, beavers appear seemingly at random. In the time of the great dying, whole families were buried in one plot. Pick wild blueberries when you're hungry, let the tart taste sink into your tongue, followed by the sharp sweetness that store-bought berries lack, realize that the plumpest berries are over the graves.

Sometimes, however, Robinson dwelt on small facts for too long – as with the fishing for oolichan and rendering them into grease – and the digressions would stall the plot. And although I found these insertions a bit frustrating at the time, I decided afterwards that if Robinson hadn't recorded this traditional knowledge in her novel, it might as well have died with Ma-ma-oo and I'm richer in the end for having learned about it. Also, Robinson inserted some modernist passages (about the structure of the heart and the mechanics of heart disease) that felt unnecessarily artsy until the final, eerie passage:

Remove yourself from the next sound you hear, the breathing that isn't your own. It glides beneath the bushes like someone's shadow, a creature with no bones, no arms or legs, a rolling, shifting worm-shaped thing that hugs the darkness. It wraps its pale body around yours and feeds. Push yourself away when your vision dims. Ignore the confused, painful contractions in your chest as your heart trip-hammers to life, struggles to pump blood. Ignore the tingling sensations and weakness in your arms and legs, which make you want to lie down and never get up.

Monkey Beach is a very absorbing read, and as it addresses many of the topics that I find most interesting, it hit all the right notes for me. I will happily seek out Eden Robinson's other works.

[Jaylia3 · Rating 4 out of 5]

I could not resist the narrative voice of this earthy, augury filled, family rich story set in the First Nations Haisla community of western Canada. Nineteen year old Lisamarie is generally fearless and never takes guff from anyone--she’ll launch herself at a gang of bullies without hesitation and her uncle affectionately calls her monster--but the nighttime visits she receives from a small, wild, red haired man terrify her because they always precede a death or tragedy. It’s a visionary “gift” she discovers runs in her family, though no one talks much about anymore so she’s mostly on her own with it.

When her younger brother Jimmy is lost at sea Lisamarie embarks on a solo speedboat trip up the Pacific coast driven by guilt, fear and grief, determined to find him or his body. Her vivid memories and visions along the way take the story all the way back to her early childhood and into the land of the dead.

The ending? It’s somewhat hallucinatory, not something I could confidently articulate, but I was swept along anyway. With writing that’s beautiful and raw, this book is a colorful, sometimes dizzying odyssey, filled with ghosts, poverty, kinship ties, Haisla culture, Sasquatch monkey men, and the grit and wonder of the natural world.

Many thanks to BrokenTune who brought this book to my attention. Her review is here: http://brokentune.booklikes.com/post/...

[Neeyati · Rating 5 out of 5]

This one is really hard to pin down. There is a plot running through it, but I experienced it more as a series of vignettes, some really brief and some spanning longer, intense periods of time. The timeline kind of slips back and forth, and I can see how some other reviewers here may have found that frustrating or confusing, but somehow I never minded. It was written well enough that I trusted Robinson to take me where I needed to be to inhabit Lisa's (the narrator and main character) world, and actually the way this was written felt more human than a straight, chronological narrative if that makes sense? Like I was carrying Lisa's memories, patchy and imperfect, and projecting them onto other characters and situations that came up. ? Ugh, idk if I'm being clear. But there's a strong sense of place, and of history between characters, that I really appreciated here. And the writing is incredibly atmospheric and beautiful without being flowery.

[Kara Babcock · Rating 2 out of 5]

Almost a year ago I read Eden Robinson’s new novel, Son of a Trickster , and I immediately wanted to read more of her stuff. But, of course, wanting and actually getting around to it are two different things. So here I am, at the end of 2017, finally reading Monkey Beach. Which I bought, mind you, a month or two prior, but it was finally a friend/former coworker reading it and wanting my opinion that galvanized me. I don’t know; as the end of the year approaches I’ve very much been yearning for fluffier or at least more upbeat fiction rather than so-called “serious” stuff. Yet I don’t think that mindset is what soured me on Monkey Beach. Rather, Robinson’s style is different here from Son of a Trickster, and I just can’t stop comparing this one unfavourably to it.

Trigger warning in this book for rape; I mention it (in very general terms) much later on this review.

Nineteen-year-old Lisamarie Hill’s younger brother, Jimmy, has gone missing while on a commercial fishing trip off the coast of B.C. After her parents leave their small community to coordinate the search, Lisa decides to strike off on her own in her dad’s powerboat. She finds herself drawn to the eponymous Monkey Beach, so named for the history of b'gwus (sasquatch) sightings on or near the island. While she travels, she ruminates upon her life to date, and we relive it through a series of (mostly) linear flashbacks that shed light on Lisa’s relationships with Jimmy, her parents, her uncle, her grandmother, and the kids she grew up.

It’s not that I think Monkey Beach is bad or even poorly written. Like Son of a Trickster, there is a powerful story here. Robinson is very good at connecting the background of her story (in this case, Kitamaat, B.C. and the surrounding Douglas Channel area) with her protagonist’s personal life. She makes connections between how the colonial and industrial history of this area, the pressures and trauma of residential school, the ways in which the logging and mining and manufacturing industries have had an impact on the people of the area, particularly the Haisla people for whom this is their traditional territory. Robinson explores what this means personally for Lisa, as a 19-year-old on the cusp of the new millennium.

The book starts to lose me gradually, as we start touring through Lisa’s childhood. Robinson’s writing style here is very stream-of-consciousness, with a lot of attention to what I might term superfluous detail. I think I’m just more used to these kinds of frame narratives and flashback structures having a much more obvious trajectory. With Monkey Beach, time is a more slippery concept, and that made it harder for me to stay present within the narrative. It isn’t a hard book to read by any means, and I actually enjoyed the act of reading it and wanted to keep reading it constantly. Yet so much of it seemed to slip off me like rain rather than into me like a cool drink of water. And that’s how I know it’s a difference in the writer’s style versus how I read.

I’m going to digress for a moment to talk about one interesting part of my experience reading this: I headcanon Lisa as asexual. Throughout the flashbacks, she describes the sensation of feeling left behind as her female friends start pining over classmates and experimenting with their sexual expression, while Lisa doesn’t see the point. She starts hanging out more with boys, and even when some of them express interest in her, she doesn’t ever speak of reciprocal sexual attraction on her part. (If anything, she might be romantically interested in Frank, but she doesn’t seem to have a corresponding sexual attraction, resulting in a lot of confusion as she watches him hook up with other girls). Regardless of Robinson’s intention (Lisa’s sexuality definitely seems to depart from the heternormative narrative), I like that there is space within this book to interpret Lisa as ace-spec. I especially appreciate that Robinson seems to make a point of remarking on Lisa’s lack of attraction before her rape, because if there’s anything we don’t need more of, it’s conflating asexuality or sex-repulsion (which are themselves not the same!) with trauma.

Part of me really wishes that we spent more time with Lisa processing and working through her feelings following her rape. But I get that this is a complex issue, that sometimes there is no processing, or that the processing works very differently, and that a lot of what happens much later in the book is part of that journey towards healing. Again, it’s just that the style in which Robinson does this means I didn’t

I have yet to Skype with my friend Emma, the one who just finished this book. She asked, “Did you like the ending??” and I replied, “I didn’t really like the whole thing. I’m ambivalent about the ending.” The more I think on it, though, perhaps the ending is what I liked best. Monkey Beach is not about finding one’s missing brother, or even about fixing one’s own life. It’s an introspective story about one’s relationships to people and the land, and the ending really captures that well. Unfortunately, I just wasn’t as invested for the majority of the book. It’s strange, because Son of the Trickster stays with me to this day, and I’m super excited for that to come out in paperback so I can look into getting a class set and teaching it to my adult students. Monkey Beach, on the other hand, has not left the same impact on me.

[Rebeccah · Rating 3 out of 5]

I have mixed thoughts about this one, but enjoyed it overall. I really liked the early chapters with Lisa’s outdoor adventures with her uncle and Ma-ma-oo. They made me nostalgic for camping trips as a kid. The pace stalled in the middle, but got back on track soon enough. I’m disappointed there wasn’t more resolution to the central plot with Jimmy. Overall I didn’t love the story, but the feelings the book evoked, though mostly melancholic, definitely left an impression.

[Martha☀ · Rating 4 out of 5]

When Jimmy, Joshua and their fishing seiner go missing, 19 year-old Lisamarie and her parents head off in different directions to conduct a search. Lisa takes the speedboat and heads up Douglas Channel towards Namu, stopping at her brother's favourite spot, Monkey Beach. Here, as always, Lisa can sense the presence of mythical creatures, like B'gwas and T'sonoqua, and feels closest to the ancient stories that her Ma-ma-oo shared. Wading through the trials of her already traumatic life events, Lisa reminisces about the messages that the spirits have been trying to tell her but which she has ignored until now.
The Haisla people of Kitimaat have a deep connection to the land but their cultural traditions are being lost as the modern world and all its ills encroach. Uncle Mick is a reminder that residential schools have injured generations of their people. Modern cities, like Vancouver, provide easy access to drugs and alcohol as well as a means to ignore responsibility. Kitimaat provides everything Lisa needs but she is bored with it and its dull cast of characters. At 16, Lisa had already attended countless funerals of loved ones, from family members to classmates, and has hardened to the realities of Native suicide and murder. How many funerals had you attended by 16? Eden Robinson deals with these deep topics not through dialogue but through each characters' actions. We see, rather than read about, the effects of suicide, overdose, rape and other cruelties. But we also see the effects of love, resilience and patience although their effects take longer to sink in.
What I loved most about this book is the pull that Lisamarie feels between life as a teenager in the 90s and traditional Haisla beliefs. Through trial and error and sheer determination, Lisa comes to terms with both and finds balance.

[Katherine Younkin · Rating 4 out of 5]

If you’re in the mood for something that will take you far from everyday urban life, you may want to pick up this novel. The main character is Lisamarie Hill, a Native American teenager who lives in a British Columbia village reserve. Lisamarie is loyal to her friends and family, feisty, and funny. She is also gifted with the ability to see things others can’t. Like the little man with red hair who perches on top of her dresser to frighten and annoy her.
The opening of the story has Lisamarie learning that her younger brother, Jimmy, is missing along with his fishing partner after a storm. The boat has been found but the two fishermen are gone. Lisamarie’s father and mother immediately head to the site of rescue operations many hours away. Ordered to stay at home with her uncle, Lisa knows she can’t obey. She takes off in a boat with a 35-horsepower outboard motor, calculating it will take her approximately 11 hours to reach where they are searching for Jimmy.
As the story unfolds, Lisamarie has flashbacks of memories of growing up with her brother. She reflects on the fights she had with boys to protect Jimmy from bullies. Lisamarie also thinks about her Uncle Mick who died in a similar tragedy at sea and of her grandmother who offered wisdom about her visits from the supernatural little man. She realizes that the little man seems to appear before family deaths or tragedies. Unfortunately, she had seen him when he woke her from a dream the night before. As she draws closer to Monkey Beach where she camped with her brother, she remembers the stories that her relatives told her about seeing sasquatches. Monkey Beach is a place where the magical and the real collide, a portal to the unknown.
I was altogether gripped by this story. It is mystical, humorous, and poignant. Lisamarie goes through her life with a matter-of-fact approach even as she experiences tremendous loss and pain, even a sexual assault. She displays the toughness and humor of a true survivor. There is so much more to the story than I could possibly describe here. I do offer a warning, however. Readers who expect a tidy conclusion will not find it. Instead, you must use your imagination to figure out what happens. This is the sort of book that will have wide appeal to rebels of all ages and to those who like unconventional heroes.

[Nandakishore Mridula · Rating 4 out of 5]

They are called the "First Nations" in Canada and native Americans in the USA: the original inhabitants of the continent who have been reduced to a pitiful existence through violence, disease, and systemic oppression by the invading Europeans. They are the victims of a centuries-long, systematic and well-planned genocide. Deprived of their land, environment, livelihood and culture, they eke out a miserable existence on the fringes of the society: their youth getting mired in violence and drugs, with the women facing the threat of rape on a regular basis. They are The Inconvenient Indian: A Curious Account of Native People in North America as explained by Thomas King.

In our Post-Modern world, the voices of the marginalised are slowly being heard through their own tongues. This is not the privileged liberal leaning back in his chair and being sorry for the underdog. These are the narratives of the downtrodden people, loud and bold, clamouring to be heard.

Eden Robinson's Monkey Beach is a classic example of subaltern literature. At once a mystery and a coming-of-age story, it has got elements of fantasy and magic realism woven into the narrative. This is the tale of Lisamarie Michelle Hill of the Haisla tribe, tomboy and rebel, who has the gift of the second sight which many of her people are endowed with.

Lisamarie is a resident of Kitamaat, a small village in British Columbia. As the story opens, we are plunged into a disappearance: Lisa's kid brother Jimmy is presumably lost at sea.

If you are pointing in the right place, you should have your finger on the western shore of Princess Royal Island. To get to Kitamaat, run your finger northeast, right up to the Douglas Channel, a 140-kilometre-long deep-sea channel, to its mouth. You should pass Gil Island, Princess Royal Island, Gribbell Island, Hawkesbury Island, Maitland Island and finally Costi Island. Near the head of the Douglas, you’ll find Kitamaat Village, with its seven hundred Haisla people tucked in between the mountains and the ocean. At the end of the village is our house. Our kitchen looks out onto the water. Somewhere in the seas between here and Namu—a six-hour boat ride south of Kitamaat—my brother is lost.

Jimmy is a professional swimmer - once he was an Olympic contender - and a person for whom the sea is a second home, so this seems impossible. Jimmy's mother and father fly down to Namu to join the search. Soon, Lisa starts off on her own in a speedboat, headed for Monkey Beach where a dream has told her that Jimmy is currently located.

Lisa's story is told in flashbacks along the ride. She starts out as a problem child, becomes a rebellious teenager, and ends up as a full-fledged social outcast. She is influenced by her Uncle Mick, who was a tireless warrior for the Indian cause; he celebrates Lisa's indiscipline as the true activist spirit.

“She’s got to know about these things,” Mick would say to Dad, who was disturbed by a note from one of my teachers. She had forced us to read a book that said that the Indians on the northwest coast of British Columbia had killed and eaten people as religious sacrifices. My teacher had made us each read a paragraph out loud. When my turn came, I sat there shaking, absolutely furious.

“Lisa?” she’d said. “Did you hear me? Please read the next paragraph.”

“But it’s all lies,” I’d said.

The teacher stared at me as if I were mutating into a hideous thing from outer space. The class, sensing tension, began to titter and whisper. She slowly turned red, and said I didn’t know what I was talking about.

“Ma-ma-oo told me it was just pretend, the eating people, like drinking Christ’s blood at Communion.”

In a clipped, tight voice, she told me to sit down.

Since I was going to get into trouble anyway, I started singing “Fuck the Oppressors.” The class cheered, more because of the swearing than anything else, and I was promptly dragged, still singing, to the principal’s office.

Mick went out and had the teacher’s note laminated and framed. He hammered a nail into his wall and hung the note in the centre of the living room. He put his arm around me, swallowed hard a few times and looked misty. “My little warrior.”

If Mick has gifted Lisa with his activism, she gets the gift of the second sight from ma-ma-oo, her paternal grandmother, who can talk to the dead and comport herself comfortably in a world where the unseen exists side-by-side with the seen.

Ma-ma-oo brushed her hair back and opened the bottle of Johnnie Walker. She said some words in Haisla that I didn’t understand. She passed the bottle over the fire, which popped and sizzled.

“This is for Sherman,” she said, placing it carefully near the centre of the flames. “You’d better appreciate that. Say hi to your ba-ba-oo, Lisa.”

“But he’s not here,” I said.

“Yes, he is,” she said. “You just can’t see him, because he’s dead.”

As the tale unfolds, it becomes a fascinating chronicle of Indian life, both old and new. It's the tale of a young girl growing slowly into adulthood, but at the same time, it's the tale of a people who lived in total sync with nature before they were cruelly sidelined by a race who went by the principle that nature was gifted to them by their god, for their pleasure. Mick is the present, and ma-ma-oo, the past.

Sasquatch alias Bigfoot (or "b'gwus" in Haisla), the giant monkey-man of North American and Canadian folklore, is central to the story as the symbol of a dangerous force existing just beyond the curtain that hides the invisible world from the visible. It's he who gives Monkey Beach its name.

In a time distant and vague from the one we know now, she told me, flesh was less rigid. Animals and humans could switch shapes simply by putting on each other’s skins. Animals could talk, and often shared their knowledge with the newcomers that humans were then. When this age ended, flesh solidified. People were people, and animals lost their ability to speak in words. Except for medicine men, who could become animals, and sea otters and seals, who had medicine men too. They loved to play tricks on people. Once, a woman was walking along the shore and she met a handsome man. She fell in love and went walking with him every night. Eventually, they made love and she found out what he really was when she gave birth to an otter. The old stories, she explained, were less raunchy than they used to be. There was a beautiful woman who was having an affair with her husband’s brother. She and her husband were paddling back to the village after trading their oolichan grease for seaweed. Just off Monkey Beach, they stopped and he pissed over the side of the canoe. She lifted her paddle and clubbed him. While he was in the water, she used the paddle to hold his head under until he was still. Thinking he was dead, she paddled back to the village and told everyone he drowned. But the next day, when the wife and the husband’s brother went back to hide the body, they found large footprints in the sand. Worried he might be alive, they followed the trail into the woods. They discovered the man—transformed into a b’gwus—who then killed his adulterous wife and brother. But to really understand the old stories, she said, you had to speak Haisla.

In the end, the mystery of Jimmy's disappearance is solved. But is it really the end of the tale? Or only the beginning of another?

The reader is left to guess.

A really beautiful piece of literature.

[Lindsey · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book I picked up randomly in a used book exchange in an airport just before I flew out to BC. Since this book took place in BC, I thought it would be a fitting companion for my trip. I'm so glad I stumbled upon this book.
This is a beautiful story of a Haisla Native Canadian girl growing up in a BC Indian reserve with a unique gift of being "connected to the spirit world".
We meet Lisa Hill as she finds out that her champion swimmer brother has been lost at sea while on a fishing rig. While she is dealing with this news, she thinks back to her childhood growing up with her brother and we gain insight into her relationships with her family (her activist and angry uncle, her traditional Ma-ma-oo)and what it's like growing up on a reserve. We get an idea of Lisa's "visions" and "visiting spirits" and how she learns to interpret them.
Throughout the book, Lisa struggles with fitting in with her family and friends, struggles with alcohol and drugs, and struggles the most with guilt about failing to listen to her gifts to help the ones she loves. It seems to me that this gift she has, while it is sometimes based in truth, is often confusing and incomprehensible an almost seems like a form of schizophrenia.
The book ends with Lisa leaving in a skiff to look for her lost brother on her own. She stumbles upon Monkey Beach when almost running out of gas, and there faces some demons of her own making as she struggles to tell hallucinations from reality.
A haunting and touching story.

[Linnea · Rating 5 out of 5]

Just read this book again and confirmed my admiration for it. Robinson's prose is as chilling as the creatures who lurk just beyond the tree-line at Monkey Beach. Offers an honest yet understated inquiry into the viral effects of abuse, whether via residential school, between relatives, or self-inflicted through substances. When a book can make me cry, I revere it; but Robinson's greatest strength lies in this - she somehow captures the most arresting moments between broken individuals without losing the pitch or tone of voice, or even silence, we expect to hear from these characters who have become part of our world (or whose worlds have become our own) over the days we read this book. In other words, Robinson knows people - well. Temperamental but needy Lisa is as convincingly real as her street-wise, myth-savvy Ma-ma-oo. And when the novel draws to a close, we barely need reminding that death is often more confusing than any other emotion it might evoke. We find ourselves, tumbling, through kelp and murky waters alongside Lisa, trying less to make ends of the novel meet, than to put together the pieces we have let wash astray in our own lives.

[Rhi Carter · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Monkey Beach" is a Lynchian masterpiece. The way Eden Robinson blurs the lines between the real and surreal, focusing on "what it means" rather than "why it's happening", makes for a deeply engaging and emotional read. The descriptions of the north Pacific coast are so vivid they feel familiar, triggering every sense. All the characters have depth, and the coming of age elements feel real. The style is very unique, shifting between tenses, and second and first perspective creates a fascinating literary texture for the reader. It's very funny and very sad and very moving, I can't recommend it enough.

[Roberta · Rating 5 out of 5]

Reading for a neighbourhood bookclub. Probably wouldn't have picked it up on my own.

I'm so glad I read this book. It's one of the best I have read for a long time. Even though it was sad in places and death was always present, the book had a strong sense of life. It was vivid. I loved so many things about it:

The story was powerful and engaging from the first page. I wanted to know what happened next and hated putting it down. All the different elements that were introduced throughout the story were woven in by the end without the feeling that everything was tied up too neatly. It feels like a story that will go on.

The characters were fully realized, each with a distinct and believable voice. I especially liked the main character, Lisa. She grew from a young child to a young adult and her voice and observations changed as she grew. The relationships between the characters were always clear and close and the dialogue was sharp and lively.

The sense of place was strong. Her descriptions were lush and her appreciation for the world around her meticulously detailed. I found reading about this part of the world especially poignant now that it is under threat from the Northern Gateway Project and its potential to destroy irreplaceable and beautiful coast.

I loved the inclusion of the spirit world and the myths. They gave the book another dimension and rooted it firmly in a time and place.

Highly recommended to everyone who likes a powerful, well-written story about the coming of age of a feisty and real heroine.

[Kelly Lachapelle · Rating 5 out of 5]

I’m really fortunate that this text was a class requirement as I probably would never have read it otherwise. Sadly this notion parallels many great Indigenous Canadian works that don’t seem to greet the faces of enough readers. The upshot to this is those who do get to experience its worth can appreciate its value.

This coming-of-age novel, which centres around Lisamarie and the Hill family, interweaves some brilliant supernatural elements. There is a dynamic that unfolds as a dichotomy between Lisa and her brother Jimmy. Lisa creates her own sense of agency through her connections to her heritage via the intergenerational modes of Uncle Mick and Ma-ma-oo while Jimmy creates his identity by striving to be independent of these connections. Uncle Mick plays a crucial role in Lisa’s development because he represents the spirit of anger and frustration leading to political activism within Indigenous context. On the other hand, Ma-ma-oo represents a spiritual values through her intimate connection to the land and the afterlife. In my opinion, Lisa’s character personifies the hope that Eden Robinson has for the future of Indigenous communities and the ability to persevere despite struggles and hardships is a solid theme continued throughout this novel.

Many enlightening tropes can be extracted from Robinson’s work which I think makes it relatable at some point in our lives and there are characters that we can identify ourselves in or personalities we can find in our families. These are only a few ways in which I think the work is successful.