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Islands of Decolonial Love: Stories & Songs
In her debut collection of short stories, Islands of Decolonial Love, renowned writer and activist Leanne Simpson vividly explores the lives of contemporary Indigenous Peoples and communities, especially those of her own Nishnaabeg nation.
Found on reserves, in cities and small towns, in bars and curling rinks, canoes and community centres, doctors offices and pickup trucks, Simpson's characters confront the often heartbreaking challenge of pairing the desire to live loving and observant lives with a constant struggle to simply survive the historical and ongoing injustices of racism and colonialism. Told with voices that are rarely recorded but need to be heard, and incorporating the language and history of her people, Leanne Simpson's Islands of Decolonial Love is a profound, important, and beautiful book of fiction.
Found on reserves, in cities and small towns, in bars and curling rinks, canoes and community centres, doctors offices and pickup trucks, Simpson's characters confront the often heartbreaking challenge of pairing the desire to live loving and observant lives with a constant struggle to simply survive the historical and ongoing injustices of racism and colonialism. Told with voices that are rarely recorded but need to be heard, and incorporating the language and history of her people, Leanne Simpson's Islands of Decolonial Love is a profound, important, and beautiful book of fiction.
4 pages, Audible Audio
First published November 15, 2013
121 people are currently reading
7236 people want to read
About the author
Leanne Betasamosake Simpson
27 books1,048 followersLeanne Betasamosake Simpson is a renowned Michi Saagiig Nishnaabeg scholar, writer and artist, who has been widely recognized as one of the most compelling Indigenous voices of her generation. Her work breaks open the intersections between politics, story and song—bringing audiences into a rich and layered world of sound, light, and sovereign creativity.
Working for two decades as an independent scholar using Nishnaabeg intellectual practices, Leanne has lectured and taught extensively at universities across Canada and the United States and has twenty years experience with Indigenous land based education. She holds a PhD from the University of Manitoba, and teaches at the Dechinta Centre for Research & Learning in Denendeh.
Leanne is the author of six previous books, including This Accident of Being Lost, which won the MacEwan University Book of the Year; was a finalist for the Rogers Writers’ Trust Fiction Prize and the Trillium Book Award; was long listed for CBC Canada Reads; and was named a best book of the year by the Globe and Mail, the National Post, and Quill & Quire. Her latest book, As We Have Always Done: Indigenous Freedom Through Radical Resistance was published by the University of Minnesota Press in 2017, and was awarded Best Subsequent Book by the Native American and Indigenous Studies Association. Her new novel Noopiming: The Cure for White Ladies is was release this fall by the House of Anansi Press.
Leanne is also a musician combining poetry, storytelling, song-writing and performance in collaboration with musicians to create unique spoken songs and soundscapes. Leanne's third record, The Theory of Ice will be released in 2021.
Leanne is a member of Alderville First Nation.
Working for two decades as an independent scholar using Nishnaabeg intellectual practices, Leanne has lectured and taught extensively at universities across Canada and the United States and has twenty years experience with Indigenous land based education. She holds a PhD from the University of Manitoba, and teaches at the Dechinta Centre for Research & Learning in Denendeh.
Leanne is the author of six previous books, including This Accident of Being Lost, which won the MacEwan University Book of the Year; was a finalist for the Rogers Writers’ Trust Fiction Prize and the Trillium Book Award; was long listed for CBC Canada Reads; and was named a best book of the year by the Globe and Mail, the National Post, and Quill & Quire. Her latest book, As We Have Always Done: Indigenous Freedom Through Radical Resistance was published by the University of Minnesota Press in 2017, and was awarded Best Subsequent Book by the Native American and Indigenous Studies Association. Her new novel Noopiming: The Cure for White Ladies is was release this fall by the House of Anansi Press.
Leanne is also a musician combining poetry, storytelling, song-writing and performance in collaboration with musicians to create unique spoken songs and soundscapes. Leanne's third record, The Theory of Ice will be released in 2021.
Leanne is a member of Alderville First Nation.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 383 reviews
March 23, 2018
this book came into my life exactly when i needed it to. i'd been honing the craft of writing love letters to myself these past couple of years, and i bought this book at the abolition convergence in mnisota. how could i not fall in love with its title?
i read the first short story, and it explained everything i've ever felt about love and fear and the summer sun and could never tell anyone because a queer femme(ish) person of color with ptsd doesn't just wear their heart on their sleeves like that. but simpson, without even knowing me, just poured into my heart. and when i wanna feel held and seen, it would serve me well to think of that ~5-page story.
this book contains short stories, songs and poems with many different characters, moods, experiences, and tones. i'm convinced that she's everyone she's writing about because she writes them. so well.
i think of this book and i think of very specific people in my life who could read this book and feel seen, the way i did. i think of this book and have a sweet n quiet n electric moment - the kind you have when you have a crush on someone truly spectacular and you're not ready to share it with anyone quite yet, but it whispers out of every inch of you. yeah. that.
i read the first short story, and it explained everything i've ever felt about love and fear and the summer sun and could never tell anyone because a queer femme(ish) person of color with ptsd doesn't just wear their heart on their sleeves like that. but simpson, without even knowing me, just poured into my heart. and when i wanna feel held and seen, it would serve me well to think of that ~5-page story.
this book contains short stories, songs and poems with many different characters, moods, experiences, and tones. i'm convinced that she's everyone she's writing about because she writes them. so well.
i think of this book and i think of very specific people in my life who could read this book and feel seen, the way i did. i think of this book and have a sweet n quiet n electric moment - the kind you have when you have a crush on someone truly spectacular and you're not ready to share it with anyone quite yet, but it whispers out of every inch of you. yeah. that.
Read
April 22, 2021“You are 22. There are a couple of problems with being 22... one of the problems with being 22 is you start to get afraid that maybe you’re horrible at everything. Mostly cos you’re not really good at anything yet”
A line I related to so hard I said ‘oh my god yes’ out loud in my car. Anyways, this was a really great collection mostly focussing on being Indigenous in Canada. Quite short but very impactful
January 9, 2020
This collection of poems and short stories is well written, and covers many emotions and situations. Amusing, angry and often poignant.
October 15, 2022
Collection of contemporary short stories written in poetic prose and focused on the Anishinaabe, indigenous people of North America located in the northern US and Canada. The author examines many forms of love, related to land, traditions, and, of course, people. Carefully selected epigraphs introduce each story. The prose includes words from the Anishinaabe language, not always translated. The stories are told from various perspectives, even from the spirit world.
The characters in these stories explore the ways they try to repair relationships with other people and with nature, attempting to overcome colonial damage that has been done in the past. I liked that it is optimistically oriented, not dwelling on prior tragedies, but not ignoring them either. It is nontraditional, creative, and moving. I listened to the audio book, read by Tantoo Cardinal. It lends itself well to audio since it is already poetic in nature and the narrators are storytellers.
The characters in these stories explore the ways they try to repair relationships with other people and with nature, attempting to overcome colonial damage that has been done in the past. I liked that it is optimistically oriented, not dwelling on prior tragedies, but not ignoring them either. It is nontraditional, creative, and moving. I listened to the audio book, read by Tantoo Cardinal. It lends itself well to audio since it is already poetic in nature and the narrators are storytellers.
April 22, 2015
I wrote about it here: http://lemonhound.com/2015/04/22/jaco...
And then three passages from Islands of Decolonial Love:
etienne gets out the lines and in two minutes we know we’re on the school because we’re pulling in mackerel easy. he watches as i hold the hook and snap the fish into the garbage pail, which is my reveal. it’s sunny and it’s windy and it’s perfect and the arms of the day are wide open and no one has to be anywhere. i see a northern gannet and i love gannets because they can disconnect their wings before they plummet into the sea after a fish. imagine disconnecting a body part! the gannet swims over to the boat smelling the fish blood and etienne hands the gannet a fish and says “the bird is my family, all of this, the fish, the seals, the water – this is my family,” which is his reveal.
our eyes meet because now he has my attention. i walk over and hug him and he is the kind of person that can give and receive a real hug and i’m not one of those people because my alarm system goes off when people touch me and I freeze up and shut down. this time that doesn’t happen. i decide to kiss him and it’s perfect and easy and we make out void of awkwardness but with a clearly defined beginning and a clearly defined ending, then he drives back to shore while i gut the fish in the back of the boat using his terrifyingly sharp knife, feeding the guts to the gulls and the gannets. he drops me off on the dock. we thank each other. we say goodbye and i pay attention to each step, instead of looking back.
...
old lady levi then asked ira to speak and tell them about the project. he lit a cigarette and he told them three things. first, that the band council had asked us to help the elders document all the ways they related to the land in the past and in contemporary times. second, that throughout the project, the elders would be in charge. they would make all of the decisions because as far as he was concerned, they were the experts. and third that the final document could be whatever they wanted.
then he sat down.
old lady levi stood up, thanked us and asked us to leave. she opened the living room door, watched us as we passed through it, and then told us to wait outside until she reappeared.
we did. for probably two hours.
we heard a lot of talking. some praying. some singing. some more talking.
ira smoked. i drank watery maxwell house out of a styrofoam cup, and then bit teeth marks all around the top edge, wondering what was going to happen to me when i hit the end of the prozac prescription no one was monitoring.
then we heard old lady levi’s footsteps. she paused on the other side of the door. i imagined her hand on the handle, hesitating and then opening it.
we stood up.
she looked through us and said, “come back next month, maybe a monday next time. monday is better.” she went back into the room and shut the door.
ira lit another cigarette, did up his coat, and walked outside, remotely starting the car on the way. it was nearly four, and the sun was sinking below the stand of black spruce out my window. we retraced our morning’s steps back to thunder bay. a month later, this time on a monday, we went back, and we kept going back for two years, sometimes moving the meeting twice a month.
i redrew the maps those old ones kept tucked away in their bones. i took these notes:
how to pluck the feathers off a goose
how to roast a duck on an open fire
how to block the cnr lines
how to live as if it mattered
...
bringing up trauma from my life made therapy-lady cry, especially if it was “aboriginal” themed. she said “aboriginal” a lot, and i knew she was trying to be respectful so i planned on letting it slide until the breaking point and then i was going to let her have it in one spiralling long manifesto. therapy-lady liked to compare my life to refuges from war-torn countries who hid their kids in closets when airplanes flew over their houses. this was her limit of understanding on colonized intimacy. she wasn’t completely wrong, and while she tried to convince me none of us had to hide our kids anymore, we both knew that wasn’t exactly true. i knew what every ndn knows: that vulnerability, forgiveness and acceptance were privileges. she made the assumption of a white person: they were readily available to all like the fresh produce at the grocery store.
lucy says that I made a critical mistake on my first day of therapy. “you have to lay all of you indian shit out on the first day, drug abuse, suicide attempts, all the times you got beat up, all of that shit. then you sit back and watch how they react. then you’ll know if they can deal or not.” lucy had a social work degree but she didn’t buy it, which is always useful.
.
And then three passages from Islands of Decolonial Love:
etienne gets out the lines and in two minutes we know we’re on the school because we’re pulling in mackerel easy. he watches as i hold the hook and snap the fish into the garbage pail, which is my reveal. it’s sunny and it’s windy and it’s perfect and the arms of the day are wide open and no one has to be anywhere. i see a northern gannet and i love gannets because they can disconnect their wings before they plummet into the sea after a fish. imagine disconnecting a body part! the gannet swims over to the boat smelling the fish blood and etienne hands the gannet a fish and says “the bird is my family, all of this, the fish, the seals, the water – this is my family,” which is his reveal.
our eyes meet because now he has my attention. i walk over and hug him and he is the kind of person that can give and receive a real hug and i’m not one of those people because my alarm system goes off when people touch me and I freeze up and shut down. this time that doesn’t happen. i decide to kiss him and it’s perfect and easy and we make out void of awkwardness but with a clearly defined beginning and a clearly defined ending, then he drives back to shore while i gut the fish in the back of the boat using his terrifyingly sharp knife, feeding the guts to the gulls and the gannets. he drops me off on the dock. we thank each other. we say goodbye and i pay attention to each step, instead of looking back.
...
old lady levi then asked ira to speak and tell them about the project. he lit a cigarette and he told them three things. first, that the band council had asked us to help the elders document all the ways they related to the land in the past and in contemporary times. second, that throughout the project, the elders would be in charge. they would make all of the decisions because as far as he was concerned, they were the experts. and third that the final document could be whatever they wanted.
then he sat down.
old lady levi stood up, thanked us and asked us to leave. she opened the living room door, watched us as we passed through it, and then told us to wait outside until she reappeared.
we did. for probably two hours.
we heard a lot of talking. some praying. some singing. some more talking.
ira smoked. i drank watery maxwell house out of a styrofoam cup, and then bit teeth marks all around the top edge, wondering what was going to happen to me when i hit the end of the prozac prescription no one was monitoring.
then we heard old lady levi’s footsteps. she paused on the other side of the door. i imagined her hand on the handle, hesitating and then opening it.
we stood up.
she looked through us and said, “come back next month, maybe a monday next time. monday is better.” she went back into the room and shut the door.
ira lit another cigarette, did up his coat, and walked outside, remotely starting the car on the way. it was nearly four, and the sun was sinking below the stand of black spruce out my window. we retraced our morning’s steps back to thunder bay. a month later, this time on a monday, we went back, and we kept going back for two years, sometimes moving the meeting twice a month.
i redrew the maps those old ones kept tucked away in their bones. i took these notes:
how to pluck the feathers off a goose
how to roast a duck on an open fire
how to block the cnr lines
how to live as if it mattered
...
bringing up trauma from my life made therapy-lady cry, especially if it was “aboriginal” themed. she said “aboriginal” a lot, and i knew she was trying to be respectful so i planned on letting it slide until the breaking point and then i was going to let her have it in one spiralling long manifesto. therapy-lady liked to compare my life to refuges from war-torn countries who hid their kids in closets when airplanes flew over their houses. this was her limit of understanding on colonized intimacy. she wasn’t completely wrong, and while she tried to convince me none of us had to hide our kids anymore, we both knew that wasn’t exactly true. i knew what every ndn knows: that vulnerability, forgiveness and acceptance were privileges. she made the assumption of a white person: they were readily available to all like the fresh produce at the grocery store.
lucy says that I made a critical mistake on my first day of therapy. “you have to lay all of you indian shit out on the first day, drug abuse, suicide attempts, all the times you got beat up, all of that shit. then you sit back and watch how they react. then you’ll know if they can deal or not.” lucy had a social work degree but she didn’t buy it, which is always useful.
.
December 5, 2016
Beautiful, powerful, challenging, inventive. A collection of poems, songs, stories that are unlike anything I've ever read before. A book to read (and listen to, since it comes with digital access to some poems recorded with also beautifully done music) again and again.
June 13, 2021
Lyrical, moving short stories and lyrics about cultural- and self- appreciation, appropriation, and preservation in the context of the First Nations in Canada. Lots of interesting themes contrasting western science and indigenous knowledge. The characters in the stories were interesting and my only complaint was that many of the stories were too short - I wanted more time with them!
**Thanks to the author, publisher, and NetGalley for a free copy in exchange for an honest review.
**Thanks to the author, publisher, and NetGalley for a free copy in exchange for an honest review.
July 11, 2021
you are the saved seeds of allies. you are the space between embraces
As soon I was finished listening to this collection, I started it back right from the beginning and started listening again, so much did I want to absorb and feel what I'd just listened to. Also, the writing was just gorgeous, perfectly gutting and lovely and I wanted to experience it again. I'm very happy that my library had this audiobook, because it's clearly something that was meant to be listened to; stories that were meant to be told. Not having a physical copy to read along with made this a little difficult, but I dealt. There's also a lot of Anishinaabe (I believe) words used, a lot of the time without translation, which remains one of my absolute favourite things to see in fiction, especially in this particular context, when speaking about racial injustice and decolonisation. It reminded me of the things that I love in Kai Ashante Wilson and Zen Cho's writing. For a non-Indigenous reader like myself, there were things you could figure out from context, and some you couldn't, and that was deliberate and just.
the skillset you need to survive is not the same skillset you need to love, and be loved.
This actually isn't my preferred type of short story collection; a lot of the pieces were very short, more poems and songs, and you only spent a short amount of time with a set of characters before you were moving on. I generally would prefer fewer, longer stories. But this really worked for me. Some of these vignettes were really powerful, and it only took a few lines for certain characters to become memorable to me. I loved the ones that touched on decolonisation (and what that can mean for different people), suicide, myths, land rights, and love. My favourites were "birds in a cage", "she told him 10,000 years of everything", and "buffalo on".
Listened to the audiobook as read by Tantoo Cardinal, which was great. I just loved the tone of her voice (smoky and husky) and how she'd get into the rhythm of the storytelling. Again, this was meant to be listened to, because there's so much poetry. Wonderful collection. I'd love to read more from this author.
Content warnings: .
and there's me, driving like she has unlocked one more bird from a cage; like her song is meant just for me.
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May 22, 2021This book impacted me in ways only people who can still feel the shards of colonialization around their whole beings can understand. Only those who work daily to decolonize themselves and their communities. I genuinely can't review it.
November 7, 2020
Ishpadinaa
If I write in small characters no one will notice my grandma’s lying on a picnic table in Dufferin Grove Park.
aanikoobijigan: ancestor
aanikoobijigan: great grand child
aanikoobijigan: great grand mother
The sign in the park says: When an Indian dies on a picnic table in downtown Toronto, call 911.
she says to me “do not touch me. do not call 911. and get that fucking look off of your face."
People keep stopping and asking if we want help. Like dads with jobs and espresso and buggies and couples with indoor scarves, sick in love. It’s because no one is calling 911. They are trying to be nice because the scene doesn’t make sense.
she says to me “i got really smart by reading every book in the rockton library, or maybe you don’t think I am so smart, little miss phd.”
I tell myself that this is a good place to die, even though there are hotdogs and cake and balloons. It’s outside. There are no fluorescent lights. There’s no one trying to fix the damage that can’t be fixed. She doesn’t want death to be like a math test, I tell myself.
she says to me “all husbands are boring, so pick one that lets you do whatever you want”.
I notice her fetal skeleton underneath ironed polyester dress pants. The loving family is locked in a telephone booth of rising anxiety. We are stretching our necks out to take the last sips of air.
she says to me “if you don’t have 7up you can mix vodka with beer.”
The kids are digging large holes in the sand and then placing driftwood across the holes to make bridges. I don’t know where they got the driftwood, its downtown Toronto, but I’m glad they are not paying any attention.
she says to me “you work too hard, you’ll never be happy.”
aanikoobijigan: to tie together, a bond, a link
aanikoobijigan: my broken paper chain from when I was six
aanikoobijigan: to measure loss
(Ishpadinaa means a hill.)
If I write in small characters no one will notice my grandma’s lying on a picnic table in Dufferin Grove Park.
aanikoobijigan: ancestor
aanikoobijigan: great grand child
aanikoobijigan: great grand mother
The sign in the park says: When an Indian dies on a picnic table in downtown Toronto, call 911.
she says to me “do not touch me. do not call 911. and get that fucking look off of your face."
People keep stopping and asking if we want help. Like dads with jobs and espresso and buggies and couples with indoor scarves, sick in love. It’s because no one is calling 911. They are trying to be nice because the scene doesn’t make sense.
she says to me “i got really smart by reading every book in the rockton library, or maybe you don’t think I am so smart, little miss phd.”
I tell myself that this is a good place to die, even though there are hotdogs and cake and balloons. It’s outside. There are no fluorescent lights. There’s no one trying to fix the damage that can’t be fixed. She doesn’t want death to be like a math test, I tell myself.
she says to me “all husbands are boring, so pick one that lets you do whatever you want”.
I notice her fetal skeleton underneath ironed polyester dress pants. The loving family is locked in a telephone booth of rising anxiety. We are stretching our necks out to take the last sips of air.
she says to me “if you don’t have 7up you can mix vodka with beer.”
The kids are digging large holes in the sand and then placing driftwood across the holes to make bridges. I don’t know where they got the driftwood, its downtown Toronto, but I’m glad they are not paying any attention.
she says to me “you work too hard, you’ll never be happy.”
aanikoobijigan: to tie together, a bond, a link
aanikoobijigan: my broken paper chain from when I was six
aanikoobijigan: to measure loss
(Ishpadinaa means a hill.)
January 1, 2024
I really did not know what to expect when I started this one, but it was an interesting blend of poetry and short stories. Some were more impactful than others, but I found it hard to tell where the lines of fiction and reality were with this collection. The lines blurred often and perhaps I was too in my head while reading this, but it became a bit of a distraction for me while reading trying to piece together the broader narrative of this work. Overall, this was still beautifully written and enjoyable read!
August 18, 2019
Drawing from her own life and other contemporary Indigenous perspectives, Leanne Betasamosake Simpson creates a truly moving and thought-provoking series of short stories in Islands of Decolonial Love: Stories & Songs.
Each story (or song) is short, yet vividly captures a great deal of emotion and individual personality that feels deeply intimate. Like an archipelago of islands, characters seem lonely yet interconnected, in this case through shared culture and expectation. While largely stemming from the Nishnaabeg nation (one of Canada’s First Nations; surrounding the North American Great Lakes), many of these stories still felt familiar to the experiences of anyone with indigenous (or even mestizo) heritage—so goes the universality of historic trauma and systemic injustice.
Also present throughout this collection are themes surrounding healing. At times this entails dark humor, at others unwavering acceptance of the uncomfortable. Sometimes it’s gentle in tone and at others a guttural scream into the void. Some characters feel trapped, while others are in a constant state of motion. Still, all seem to be moving towards a type of fundamental understanding, something I found to be a truly cathartic experience.
All in all, I definitely recommend this book, and will be on the lookout for more of Leanne Betasamosake Simpson’s work. I think that if you want to be understood, you must first learn to understand others, and this collection is a remarkable work of empathy.
Each story (or song) is short, yet vividly captures a great deal of emotion and individual personality that feels deeply intimate. Like an archipelago of islands, characters seem lonely yet interconnected, in this case through shared culture and expectation. While largely stemming from the Nishnaabeg nation (one of Canada’s First Nations; surrounding the North American Great Lakes), many of these stories still felt familiar to the experiences of anyone with indigenous (or even mestizo) heritage—so goes the universality of historic trauma and systemic injustice.
Also present throughout this collection are themes surrounding healing. At times this entails dark humor, at others unwavering acceptance of the uncomfortable. Sometimes it’s gentle in tone and at others a guttural scream into the void. Some characters feel trapped, while others are in a constant state of motion. Still, all seem to be moving towards a type of fundamental understanding, something I found to be a truly cathartic experience.
All in all, I definitely recommend this book, and will be on the lookout for more of Leanne Betasamosake Simpson’s work. I think that if you want to be understood, you must first learn to understand others, and this collection is a remarkable work of empathy.
August 2, 2021
i think i need to reread this in paper bc then i can read it with the amount of attention it needs i think, but i did also rly enjoy listening [it's on spotify]
a couple stories / poems stood out to me, especially one about a mother attempting to help / heal / connect / be authentic [?] with her son who just tried to kill himself, one called good neighbours i think & another one which i cant think of now but i will add in later!! my memory rly sucks lol
a couple stories / poems stood out to me, especially one about a mother attempting to help / heal / connect / be authentic [?] with her son who just tried to kill himself, one called good neighbours i think & another one which i cant think of now but i will add in later!! my memory rly sucks lol
March 7, 2019
you feel these stories more than think them. essential indigenous reading.
May 31, 2020
This is the good stuff.
January 13, 2015
This is a powerful book--an evocative mix of both poetry and prose. So many humourous moments, the kind I like--self deprecating, yet poignant at the same time. A hard mix to get right, but Simpson manages to make it pitch perfect. I wish I had gone to her reading in Toronto a few months ago, just to hear these words come out of her mouth. I have heard her speak them to music on her website--worthwhile to give a listen.
The author opens little windows into her life affected by colonialism. She has brought what many only feel as abstract feeling into raw, concrete thought, expressing it beautifully with prose that empowers indigenous peoples by poking holes in the vague seemingly all powerful structure that is Canada's colonial legacy.
But this book is also about the human journey. Anyone can recognize their own struggles and triumphs in her prose. I tried to classify the genre in my head as essay or memoir, as stream of consciousness prose, but this book, this piece of art defies these kinds of classifications and invites you to lay yourself as bare as Simpson did writing it.
I think of how many of my own people (the Métis) have been marginalized by colonialism. I can recognize myself and my ancestors in this book. They were silenced and pushed off their land, they died keeping the secrets of shame and grief over their own identity as First Nations. Simpson expresses the angst, the secrets, for generations of indigenous people. And yet, at the end of this book, we are not left with a sense that these are hopelessly broken individuals. Lee Maracle's quote, which is included in the preface, is a valuable lesson to take away.
"Still, I am not tragic."
The author opens little windows into her life affected by colonialism. She has brought what many only feel as abstract feeling into raw, concrete thought, expressing it beautifully with prose that empowers indigenous peoples by poking holes in the vague seemingly all powerful structure that is Canada's colonial legacy.
But this book is also about the human journey. Anyone can recognize their own struggles and triumphs in her prose. I tried to classify the genre in my head as essay or memoir, as stream of consciousness prose, but this book, this piece of art defies these kinds of classifications and invites you to lay yourself as bare as Simpson did writing it.
I think of how many of my own people (the Métis) have been marginalized by colonialism. I can recognize myself and my ancestors in this book. They were silenced and pushed off their land, they died keeping the secrets of shame and grief over their own identity as First Nations. Simpson expresses the angst, the secrets, for generations of indigenous people. And yet, at the end of this book, we are not left with a sense that these are hopelessly broken individuals. Lee Maracle's quote, which is included in the preface, is a valuable lesson to take away.
"Still, I am not tragic."
October 29, 2023
Amazing. My heart was so full .. I will love listening to this again (and maybe again even). Narrated by Tantoo Cardinal. Listening brought the stories to life. Sounds like home to me.
September 25, 2021
can’t recommend the audiobook enough
March 3, 2023
A generous, smart short story collection that feels more akin to a patchwork novel, an ever-shifting show by an ensemble cast. Islands is the blueprint for addressing unspeakable devastation with dry, morbid, and sometimes "omfg I can't believe she wrote that" humor, and I am LOVING it. While ostensibly hopping between narrative voices, I read this collection as unified through the voice of a nameless and ageless narrative figure imbued with the "fuck it" energy of a cool grandma and the unsteadiness of a brand-new adult.
Unfortunately, collections like Simpson's, which don't shy from crossing form and genre boundaries despite their compact size, remain a rarity (and virtually nonexistent in 'mainstream publishing' institutions). Yet this text, like many of its kind, do more justice to an intergenerational, intersubjective set of truths than a linear or single-genre text ever could. I desperately want more books like this –– compact, yet intergenre and massive in scope –– out in the world.
Unfortunately, collections like Simpson's, which don't shy from crossing form and genre boundaries despite their compact size, remain a rarity (and virtually nonexistent in 'mainstream publishing' institutions). Yet this text, like many of its kind, do more justice to an intergenerational, intersubjective set of truths than a linear or single-genre text ever could. I desperately want more books like this –– compact, yet intergenre and massive in scope –– out in the world.
April 6, 2024
Crazy good. Love love loved the accompanying spoken word performances.
July 20, 2017
This is the kind of thing you feel like you need to immediately reread so as to not let go of it.
“dudley george is the first aboriginal person to be killed in a land rights dispute in canada since the 19th century.
i guess that’s right, if you don’t count suicide, cop killings, cancer, diabetes, heart disease, violent deaths, deaths from poverty, deaths from coping and deaths from being a woman.”
//
it takes an ocean not to break
"the mother in me has to believe that i can heal you by loving you, because no one actually believes that, except for mothers.
fuck. why was the universe trying to destroy you? why didn't you get some say? sometimes people's lives are just shit through no fault of their own and not even fucking oprah's cash and her tool box of privileged platitudes can fix it. sometimes people just drown in their own heads for no particular reason. sometimes people are just sad. you know, if it had worked, i would still have respected you. i would have respected your decision, and i would have missed you and loved you the same as i do now."
“dudley george is the first aboriginal person to be killed in a land rights dispute in canada since the 19th century.
i guess that’s right, if you don’t count suicide, cop killings, cancer, diabetes, heart disease, violent deaths, deaths from poverty, deaths from coping and deaths from being a woman.”
//
it takes an ocean not to break
"the mother in me has to believe that i can heal you by loving you, because no one actually believes that, except for mothers.
fuck. why was the universe trying to destroy you? why didn't you get some say? sometimes people's lives are just shit through no fault of their own and not even fucking oprah's cash and her tool box of privileged platitudes can fix it. sometimes people just drown in their own heads for no particular reason. sometimes people are just sad. you know, if it had worked, i would still have respected you. i would have respected your decision, and i would have missed you and loved you the same as i do now."
January 17, 2019
What a beautiful collection of stories and songs.
It took a little while to get into the rhythm of the storytelling but once I did, I was hooked.
Leanne Betasamosake Simpson is an excellent writer and builds on the themes of decolonial love, destruction and heartbreak, and healing (among others) as the collection progresses. I don't really know how to adequately describe the book - it's something you have to read/experience for yourself. I did come away from it feeling like I've learned something and been shown another different way to see the world. Which is always a good thing in my opinion.
If you can, download (from arpbooks.org/islands) the audio files for the songs - they're worth listening to as you read (or in my case, re-read) to get a sense of how Simpson is telling her stories.
My favourites (mostly concentrated in the second half of the collection) were:
treaties
pipty
jiimaanag
jiibay or aandizooke
she told him 10 000 years of everything
it takes an ocean not to break
caged
gezhizhwazh
nogojiwanog
for asinykwe
gwekaanimad
It took a little while to get into the rhythm of the storytelling but once I did, I was hooked.
Leanne Betasamosake Simpson is an excellent writer and builds on the themes of decolonial love, destruction and heartbreak, and healing (among others) as the collection progresses. I don't really know how to adequately describe the book - it's something you have to read/experience for yourself. I did come away from it feeling like I've learned something and been shown another different way to see the world. Which is always a good thing in my opinion.
If you can, download (from arpbooks.org/islands) the audio files for the songs - they're worth listening to as you read (or in my case, re-read) to get a sense of how Simpson is telling her stories.
My favourites (mostly concentrated in the second half of the collection) were:
treaties
pipty
jiimaanag
jiibay or aandizooke
she told him 10 000 years of everything
it takes an ocean not to break
caged
gezhizhwazh
nogojiwanog
for asinykwe
gwekaanimad
April 2, 2017
how do we get free? in this book are a thousand stories that offer a map, not the kind that is measured and charted but the kind that is sensed the kind that makes your bones say o yes the kind that is knowing right and good and kind, yes.
right now in my life i am trying to heal some particulars of whiteness: the coopting of sensation/emotion/feeling into logic/reason/argument. the immense pressure to know it all and do it right *now*. the paradoxical & squeezed place of committing to anti-racist and decolonial existence as a white person when whiteness itself exists only by way of racism, white supremacy, and colonization. this book was not written to heal me or to heal whiteness, but what leanne simpson has written here helps me to find paths for that healing. i will come back to this over & over, with gratitude for those who keep helping to show me how to be by way of their own existence, creation, healing.
right now in my life i am trying to heal some particulars of whiteness: the coopting of sensation/emotion/feeling into logic/reason/argument. the immense pressure to know it all and do it right *now*. the paradoxical & squeezed place of committing to anti-racist and decolonial existence as a white person when whiteness itself exists only by way of racism, white supremacy, and colonization. this book was not written to heal me or to heal whiteness, but what leanne simpson has written here helps me to find paths for that healing. i will come back to this over & over, with gratitude for those who keep helping to show me how to be by way of their own existence, creation, healing.
May 1, 2014
"i don't get it. i can see them. i know them. i can think like them while still thinking like me, but nothing i do stops them. nothing i do disrupts it." - p. 110
This is one of the most beautiful books I have ever read. I think it will be added to the few that I keep close to me, and I find myself wanting to give everyone a copy. Her words are so poignant and powerful in the way that they unearth the pain of seeing and feeling the cruelty of the world around us. She speaks to the hole of loneliness that I carry around me and the desire for finding ways to fill it. She plants some seeds of hope and creates visions of the Turtle Island without colonization. I really appreciated the firmness of her words, the unwillingness to tone down or sugar coat.
This is one of the most beautiful books I have ever read. I think it will be added to the few that I keep close to me, and I find myself wanting to give everyone a copy. Her words are so poignant and powerful in the way that they unearth the pain of seeing and feeling the cruelty of the world around us. She speaks to the hole of loneliness that I carry around me and the desire for finding ways to fill it. She plants some seeds of hope and creates visions of the Turtle Island without colonization. I really appreciated the firmness of her words, the unwillingness to tone down or sugar coat.
February 26, 2018
Stylistically I didn't like reading this book because there was often no context or specification of who the speaker was. It was more so feelings and snippets of life like poetry than a cohesive story so it was hard to follow. But respects to Leanne for expressing her experience in Indigenous communities and with white people. I loved how animals were personified as well as Mississauga showing how the entities around us have personalities. Lots of literary devices but I probably wouldn't read again since it was confusing most of the time.
July 29, 2020
This is such a great collection. We are treated to both short stories and verse in this. Traditional meets modernity and braids together in symbiosis. There is a tone to most of her writing that made me smile. A wry wit, a sharp tongue. A gleaming eye. And there were so many pieces that filled me with dread and sadness. She has a way with words.
My favourite pieces were "waaseyaaban", "jiibay or aandizooke", "for asinykwe", and "a love song for attawapiskat". I will go back and reread those again one day. Can't wait to read The Accident of Being Lost.
My favourite pieces were "waaseyaaban", "jiibay or aandizooke", "for asinykwe", and "a love song for attawapiskat". I will go back and reread those again one day. Can't wait to read The Accident of Being Lost.
April 19, 2021
There is so much power in storytelling, and Leanne Betasamosake Simpson wields that power beautifully and masterfully with this collection. I loved the mix of stories and songs, some of which made me smile, some of which broke my heart, and almost all of which challenged me. The blend of the two created something truly extraordinary, and undeniably important, the kind of poetry that you know is so much more than something on a page. Everything in here is powerful - “it takes an ocean not to break” stood out as especially so for me.
December 24, 2018
Just so lovely and a deeply beautiful book. Simpson manages to create such rich worlds within such small spaces, and there's a flow to all of the work in this book that is soothing even as it interrogates trauma. The love is so present and real in it, and it's definitely a work I'm going to revisit multiple times.
January 13, 2016
such a great read! highly recommended! thank you leanne simpson.
June 14, 2018
This book made me yearn to understand it better.
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