I read lots of old collections of legends and myths, from all over the world, mostly because I love them, but also because I bounce my own writing off them. But I usually dip in and out of the books, guided by the contents page or the index, because I’m usually looking for something specific. I rarely read them from cover to cover simply for pleasure. This book, however, was a joy to read. It has an unusual history: written before the Great War by a woman of the Mohawk nation, retelling the legends of a completely different Canadian tribe, the Squamish, told to her by a tribal chief she had befriended in Edwardian London. And some of the most wonderful passages in the book are comparisons between their tribal legends. The retelling of their two different flood legends, for example, is extremely moving. There are some great stories here, about people turned into rocks, trees or sea monsters, and about the coming of the white man. There is even a story about a tribal talisman being sent to Napoleon across the seas. But what mainly comes across is a sense of a coherent and civilised society, and the tales it told of itself to hold itself together. An amazing piece of Canadian literature, and without doubt the best source book of North American legends I have ever read.