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White Birch, Red Hawthorn: A Memoir
“This is conquered land.” The Dakota woman’s words, spoken at a community meeting in St. Paul, struck Nora Murphy forcefully. Her own Irish great-great grandparents, fleeing the potato famine, had laid claim to 160 acres in a virgin maple grove in Minnesota. That her dispossessed ancestors’ homestead, The Maples, was built upon another, far more brutal dispossession is the hard truth underlying White Birch, Red Hawthorn, a memoir of Murphy’s search for the deeper connections between this contested land and the communities who call it home.
In twelve essays, each dedicated to a tree significant to Minnesota, Murphy tells the story of the grove that, long before the Irish arrived, was home to three Native tribes: the Dakota, Ojibwe, and Ho-Chunk. She notes devastating strategies employed by the U.S. government to wrest the land from the tribes, but also revisits iconic American tales that subtly continue to promote this displacement—the Thanksgiving story, the Paul Bunyan myth, and Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House books. Murphy travels to Ireland to search out another narrative long hidden—that of her great-great-grandmother’s transformative journey from North Tipperary to The Maples.
In retrieving these stories, White Birch, Red Hawthorn uncovers lingering wounds of the past—and the possibility that, through connection to this suffering, healing can follow. The next step is simple, Murphy tells us: listen.
152 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 1, 2017
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Displaying 1 - 16 of 16 reviews
May 5, 2020
Sometimes books that you read for school are just books that you read for school ya feel
December 30, 2017
This is the story of one womans efforts to find out about her own ancestry and to come to terms with being white, feeling very guilty about the treatment of native Americans and her working with Native Americans in her home town of St Paul, Mn. She is very descriptive in her writing. Whether Ms Murphy is writing about finding her ancestors home in Ireland or working at a pow wow, you feel you are there .
December 30, 2019
A short, but very powerful little book. I could identify with the author as she wrestles with discovering her own ancestry, the history of her family in Ireland and in Minnesota, but also with the reality of what her family's claim to the land meant to the original peoples who were displaced. She writes movingly about the land, and her (our, their) connection to place. The devastation that white people have brought is made clear, as is the call to wake up to the realities of climate change and deforestation. I actually cried at the last chapter where the author describes the wake that she planned for a dying crab apple tree in her yard. My own ancestors were deeply complicit in the dispossession of Native Americans from colonial New England to Canada, and from Colonial Virginia and the movement west through Kentucky, Missouri, and Kansas. Some of them were also slave owners. I do feel a deep connection to these places, and pledge to continue to learn all I can about them, and to honor that history. This might be my favorite book of the year....
Book description: “This is conquered land.” The Dakota woman’s words, spoken at a community meeting in St. Paul, struck Nora Murphy forcefully. Her own Irish great-great grandparents, fleeing the potato famine, had laid claim to 160 acres in a virgin maple grove in Minnesota. That her dispossessed ancestors’ homestead, The Maples, was built upon another, far more brutal dispossession is the hard truth underlying White Birch, Red Hawthorn, a memoir of Murphy’s search for the deeper connections between this contested land and the communities who call it home. In twelve essays, each dedicated to a tree significant to Minnesota, Murphy tells the story of the grove that, long before the Irish arrived, was home to three Native tribes: the Dakota, Ojibwe, and Ho-Chunk. She notes devastating strategies employed by the U.S. government to wrest the land from the tribes, but also revisits iconic American tales that subtly continue to promote this displacement—the Thanksgiving story, the Paul Bunyan myth, and Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House books. Murphy travels to Ireland to search out another narrative long hidden—that of her great-great-grandmother’s transformative journey from North Tipperary to The Maples. In retrieving these stories, White Birch, Red Hawthorn uncovers lingering wounds of the past—and the possibility that, through connection to this suffering, healing can follow. The next step is simple, Murphy tells us: listen.
Book description: “This is conquered land.” The Dakota woman’s words, spoken at a community meeting in St. Paul, struck Nora Murphy forcefully. Her own Irish great-great grandparents, fleeing the potato famine, had laid claim to 160 acres in a virgin maple grove in Minnesota. That her dispossessed ancestors’ homestead, The Maples, was built upon another, far more brutal dispossession is the hard truth underlying White Birch, Red Hawthorn, a memoir of Murphy’s search for the deeper connections between this contested land and the communities who call it home. In twelve essays, each dedicated to a tree significant to Minnesota, Murphy tells the story of the grove that, long before the Irish arrived, was home to three Native tribes: the Dakota, Ojibwe, and Ho-Chunk. She notes devastating strategies employed by the U.S. government to wrest the land from the tribes, but also revisits iconic American tales that subtly continue to promote this displacement—the Thanksgiving story, the Paul Bunyan myth, and Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House books. Murphy travels to Ireland to search out another narrative long hidden—that of her great-great-grandmother’s transformative journey from North Tipperary to The Maples. In retrieving these stories, White Birch, Red Hawthorn uncovers lingering wounds of the past—and the possibility that, through connection to this suffering, healing can follow. The next step is simple, Murphy tells us: listen.
July 12, 2020
Nora Murphy uses this book to come to terms with her family’s role in taking Native Land. She traces their history from Ireland during the potato famine to their acceptance of 160 acres of recently evicted land in Minnesota. Land that had belonged to the Ojibwe, Dakota, and Ho-Chunk tribes until deceitful treaties stripped them of it. I was interested in this book as someone who straddles both worlds. I have grandparents who grew up on White Earth reservation and yet I have much stronger ties with my Scandinavian heritage. I grew up eating wild rice, as well as lefse. While the book seemed to wander at times, near the end, Murphy offers actionable takeaways: Supporting teaching Native histories in school, rescinding the 1863 law banning the Dakota people from their homeland, replacing images of Paul Bunyan with more inclusive content, funding indigenous language revitalization, and more. It’s a good start, but there’s so much more work to be done.
August 26, 2017
Murphy's memoir of her ancestral search and family land history was timely for me. I've read a few Native authors and non-fiction over the past year, and looking for a researched history of Minnesota's removal of Native tribes. She delivered this in her short book, along with a clear acknowledgement of the lying, cheating, stealing, killing, and separating of Native families that happened over the years sanctioned by the MN government.
At times Murphy's tone is so indignant that it might turn some people off, but I'm okay with reading such honest, self-reflecting white guilt. She also has a list in one of the last chapters of what can be done on an individual level to work to change the future of Native/white relationships in our state.
At times Murphy's tone is so indignant that it might turn some people off, but I'm okay with reading such honest, self-reflecting white guilt. She also has a list in one of the last chapters of what can be done on an individual level to work to change the future of Native/white relationships in our state.
September 25, 2018
Once you give into the woo-woo language this book is a moving tale how to read history through the shape of the nature around you. The author's experience working with Native communities (including some very relatable missteps) while delving into her own history was very interesting and the kind of self-examination more white people should engage in. If you're from MN or WI this book will be especially resonant.
Again, the woo-woo language should not be underestimated (do you want to hear about how a potato feels in the ground?) but if you can open yourself up to it, you'll enjoy a very thoughtful book.
Again, the woo-woo language should not be underestimated (do you want to hear about how a potato feels in the ground?) but if you can open yourself up to it, you'll enjoy a very thoughtful book.
June 30, 2020
A short read. I like that is isn't too long and deep on the historical research. That would be a different book. The author clearly did a lot of research, both here and in Ireland. I emphasize with the author, my grandparents homesteaded in the Midwest, although I don't know the treaty status of the land. It's a hard thing to come to terms with, I appreciated the thought in this this book. It's easy to dismiss the writer as a touchy feely middle aged white woman (probably an ex-hippie) but it's a real challenge to understand what to do. In that regard, I found the book helpful.
July 3, 2025
Each of the 12 chapters in this short, 159 page book, is structured around a tree in Murphy's life. Murphy ties these trees into her decades long journey to learn about her Irish ancestors, the land they homesteaded on in Minnesota, and the native peoples that inhabited that land before then. I loved how Murphy emphasizes the importance of seeking out and learning our stories, and the stories of native people. She writes about how this is an ongoing process for her of listening and learning. This is a slower read that might best be read a few chapters at a time. I found it thought provoking.
May 28, 2020
Shocking (to white, clueless me) facts I learned reading this memoir:
1) until the passing of the American Indian Religious Freedom Act of 1978, it was illegal in the US to practice Native religion.
2) there is a federal law enacted in 1863 which is still on the books which forbids Dakota people from entering Minnesota. Clearly, it is no longer enforced, but officially, it is still federal law.
1) until the passing of the American Indian Religious Freedom Act of 1978, it was illegal in the US to practice Native religion.
2) there is a federal law enacted in 1863 which is still on the books which forbids Dakota people from entering Minnesota. Clearly, it is no longer enforced, but officially, it is still federal law.
October 25, 2017
I loved this book about how we need to change our perspective and our current history books. She writes eloquently and the metaphors are beautiful. I also learned more about Ojibwe and Dakota history. Must read for all Minnesotans.
August 12, 2020
Minnesota history and more
This is a thoughtful look at the history of Minnesota through the eyes and research of an Irish American. She wonderfully connects the true history of the Native Americans pre settlers to today.
This is a thoughtful look at the history of Minnesota through the eyes and research of an Irish American. She wonderfully connects the true history of the Native Americans pre settlers to today.
April 17, 2022
This was absolutely fantastic. Beautifully written.
November 24, 2025
An interesting grappling with Native American history from a white author, exploring the intersection of family history and colonialism in Minnesota.
February 17, 2022
I found this book at a thrift shop, thinking it would be a complex memoir that heavily features the Native lives and stories that the description on the back cover says it will. Instead, it was the equivalent to a Facebook post on a genealogy group page for white women who have nothing better to do. The whole thing felt like such a vanity project.
It starts off very slow, with the author leaning too much into the tree-chapter thing, to the point where it read more like a non fiction about American trees. Once it finally broke out of that, the book centers the author’s Irish ancestor -one in particular, a woman, I feel like that’s an important point- and tells an imagined story of her life during the Potato Famine. The book promises to address what its mean to be a colonizer, but it never actually does. Murphy describes the hardship her ancestor faced during the Famine(which was also a missed opportunity! talk about how the famine was a borderline genocide by the English and draw the parallels to American settlers!!!) but never really discusses her ancestors life as a colonizer in Minnesota.
Instead, Murphy continues to distance herself and her ancestors by not discussing their actions, but rather discussing the failed treaties and other governmental actions that lead to Native land being colonized. That’s an important lesson, but for the book to be impactful that history needs to be connected to the history of Murphy’s family. It felt clinical and removed. The only parts that had emotional depth were when she discusses the famine.
I’m also assuming that all of Murphy’s ancestors were Irish immigrants, as only one side of the family was really discussed, but I feel like its an important thing to note that she only focuses on Katie, a great-something grandmother. I feel like by centering Katie, Murphy is absolving the rest of her family from blame. What were her great grandfathers doing? We all know how violent colonial settlers used to be towards Natives. Why wasn’t it discussed how her family probably contributed to that? I feel like by not discussing the men, the author was leaning into white-womanness, placing her ancestors as passive bystanders in the destruction of Native lives rather than active players.
Most importantly, this book was missing Native voices. Murphy tells us that the point of the book is that white people need to listen to Native voices. But she doesn’t give any Natives a real platform. The few she mentions by name have little dialogue besides helping her on her Eat, Pray, Love journey. Even at the end, when a Native woman says that a white woman was in the boys changing room, and Murphy says that one mistake doesn’t make her a bad person, theres so much missing from the conversation. If a boy was there and saw you in the changing room, how could you not acknowledge that thats not just a silly mistake, its violating? And Murphy gives little commentary on how colonization from the 1800s affects Natives today- it should be one of the most important points of the book! Instead its completely glossed over.
Overall, I found this to be so incredibly shallow, and at times, damaging. I don’t think this book accomplished anything it intended to. At its best, its lazy, and at its worst, its just another white savior story that neglects the voices of the people its supposed to uplift.
It starts off very slow, with the author leaning too much into the tree-chapter thing, to the point where it read more like a non fiction about American trees. Once it finally broke out of that, the book centers the author’s Irish ancestor -one in particular, a woman, I feel like that’s an important point- and tells an imagined story of her life during the Potato Famine. The book promises to address what its mean to be a colonizer, but it never actually does. Murphy describes the hardship her ancestor faced during the Famine(which was also a missed opportunity! talk about how the famine was a borderline genocide by the English and draw the parallels to American settlers!!!) but never really discusses her ancestors life as a colonizer in Minnesota.
Instead, Murphy continues to distance herself and her ancestors by not discussing their actions, but rather discussing the failed treaties and other governmental actions that lead to Native land being colonized. That’s an important lesson, but for the book to be impactful that history needs to be connected to the history of Murphy’s family. It felt clinical and removed. The only parts that had emotional depth were when she discusses the famine.
I’m also assuming that all of Murphy’s ancestors were Irish immigrants, as only one side of the family was really discussed, but I feel like its an important thing to note that she only focuses on Katie, a great-something grandmother. I feel like by centering Katie, Murphy is absolving the rest of her family from blame. What were her great grandfathers doing? We all know how violent colonial settlers used to be towards Natives. Why wasn’t it discussed how her family probably contributed to that? I feel like by not discussing the men, the author was leaning into white-womanness, placing her ancestors as passive bystanders in the destruction of Native lives rather than active players.
Most importantly, this book was missing Native voices. Murphy tells us that the point of the book is that white people need to listen to Native voices. But she doesn’t give any Natives a real platform. The few she mentions by name have little dialogue besides helping her on her Eat, Pray, Love journey. Even at the end, when a Native woman says that a white woman was in the boys changing room, and Murphy says that one mistake doesn’t make her a bad person, theres so much missing from the conversation. If a boy was there and saw you in the changing room, how could you not acknowledge that thats not just a silly mistake, its violating? And Murphy gives little commentary on how colonization from the 1800s affects Natives today- it should be one of the most important points of the book! Instead its completely glossed over.
Overall, I found this to be so incredibly shallow, and at times, damaging. I don’t think this book accomplished anything it intended to. At its best, its lazy, and at its worst, its just another white savior story that neglects the voices of the people its supposed to uplift.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
March 10, 2018
Roots take on a deeper meaning for Nora Murphy when she gets a job at the Minneapolis American Indian Center. As she makes more Native American friends, the great-great-granddaughter of Irish immigrants becomes more self-conscious.
How did her forebears come to own that stand of sugar maples in Stearns County? Who owned it before? What happened to them?
Her questions start a quest that has occupied Murphy for 20 years and challenged all her assumptions about her place in this country.
As the lone white woman at powwows and events, Murphy feels called “to rest a while in an awkward discomfort, that raw wedge of space in the gut that often Americans prefer to ignore.”
She re-evaluates Laura Ingalls Wilder’s “House in the Big Woods” and the legend of Paul Bunyan. Wilder writes about the trees and animals around the family’s Wisconsin cabin. Paul Bunyan swings his giant ax and fells the northern forests. Neither tale mentions the people living among the trees.
Murphy probes how her forebears came to own The Maples, a swatch of land now known as St. Wendel. Family history was scant — just “Potato Famine Irish,” her grandfather shrugged. Through relatives in Tipperary she learns about great-great-grandmother Katie Hughes, who joins the exodus of poor Irish to the United States and winds up in Minnesota, where she and her husband squat on land until they can buy it in 1862.
How? Murphy traces the treaties that shift land out of Native hands piece by piece, leading to the “sale” of the Stearns County acreage. To her chagrin, she sees that her people, dispossessed in their native land, did the same to ancestors of some of the very people she now works beside.
“We freely took those 160 acres in The Maples — at dear cost to the Ojibwe, the Ho-Chunk, and above all the Dakota,” she says.
Murphy’s reckoning with this “awkward discomfort” is a compact book of 12 essays, each dedicated to trees important to Minnesota — one with a surprising link to Ireland. It is kind of a distilled version of “Barkskins,” Annie Proulx’s sprawling novel about European settlement in North America.
What will Murphy do with her newfound knowledge? She can’t give the land back. It’s not hers. Instead, she leaves us with a call to reconciliation: “Slow down and reach into the uncomfortable spaces ignored for centuries. Touch the wounds in our hearts and the earth.”
How did her forebears come to own that stand of sugar maples in Stearns County? Who owned it before? What happened to them?
Her questions start a quest that has occupied Murphy for 20 years and challenged all her assumptions about her place in this country.
As the lone white woman at powwows and events, Murphy feels called “to rest a while in an awkward discomfort, that raw wedge of space in the gut that often Americans prefer to ignore.”
She re-evaluates Laura Ingalls Wilder’s “House in the Big Woods” and the legend of Paul Bunyan. Wilder writes about the trees and animals around the family’s Wisconsin cabin. Paul Bunyan swings his giant ax and fells the northern forests. Neither tale mentions the people living among the trees.
Murphy probes how her forebears came to own The Maples, a swatch of land now known as St. Wendel. Family history was scant — just “Potato Famine Irish,” her grandfather shrugged. Through relatives in Tipperary she learns about great-great-grandmother Katie Hughes, who joins the exodus of poor Irish to the United States and winds up in Minnesota, where she and her husband squat on land until they can buy it in 1862.
How? Murphy traces the treaties that shift land out of Native hands piece by piece, leading to the “sale” of the Stearns County acreage. To her chagrin, she sees that her people, dispossessed in their native land, did the same to ancestors of some of the very people she now works beside.
“We freely took those 160 acres in The Maples — at dear cost to the Ojibwe, the Ho-Chunk, and above all the Dakota,” she says.
Murphy’s reckoning with this “awkward discomfort” is a compact book of 12 essays, each dedicated to trees important to Minnesota — one with a surprising link to Ireland. It is kind of a distilled version of “Barkskins,” Annie Proulx’s sprawling novel about European settlement in North America.
What will Murphy do with her newfound knowledge? She can’t give the land back. It’s not hers. Instead, she leaves us with a call to reconciliation: “Slow down and reach into the uncomfortable spaces ignored for centuries. Touch the wounds in our hearts and the earth.”
April 27, 2017
I received an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest opinion.
Through land grabs by the US government in Minnesota, native people lost their identities and their civilizations. But through these essays, each based on a native tree, Ms. Murphy shows us that this has happened to many people, not only the native people but to the ones coming to Minnesota to live on this "taken land". Creative and thought-provoking, we can learn from this history...but will we?
Through land grabs by the US government in Minnesota, native people lost their identities and their civilizations. But through these essays, each based on a native tree, Ms. Murphy shows us that this has happened to many people, not only the native people but to the ones coming to Minnesota to live on this "taken land". Creative and thought-provoking, we can learn from this history...but will we?
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