Another Step in the Dance Much Farther North

As I mentioned in the last review I posted -- for Indiana -- I am closing in on finishing the States and taking time to assess the year long effort, how the books stack against each other, and what I got out of this themed resolution for 2009. I certainly ended up reading more stories about Native Americans than I normally would have chosen from our local library. And if they are a sub-genre of larger American lit, I found them more provocative than some of the stories set in mainstream mid-America during the early decades of the Twentieth Century.

The Grass Dancer begins with a few untitled pages introducing Harley, a Dakota Indian, as he recalls a dream about his father and brother. Immediately, the book moves on to a short story set in 1981 where Harley meets a young half-breed girl from Illinois who has traveled to the Dakota powwow to dance. More of Harley's friends and family are introduced but the tale ominously ends in another car crash, recalling the one hinted at in the introduction.

What I liked most about this novel is how Susan Power quickly got the reader curious about Harley and how these tragedies came about and would effect his life. The second and subsequent half dozen chapters keep going farther and farther back into tribal and family history, 1977, 1961, all the way back to 1864, and each presents a vignette on an invent on another Dakota that is as life-altering as Harley's. In the last two chapters, Power returns to 1981 and ties these traditions and lore to Harley becoming an adult.

Many of the subplots included in the other books on the States list that have Native Americans as main characters are found here as well: the compromises to maintain their religious beliefs and view of the Earth when confronted with aggressive Catholicism; a similar tension between contemporary and native music; and the inevitability of alcoholism and its associated physical dangers as brought on by underemployment.

Never having been to the Dakotas, I find it impossible to distinguish whether Powell's depiction of the terrain is applicable only to that State. However, what she succeeds in doing is making the place magical. Features of the landscape are alive, speaking a continuous and cohesive language to those open to listen. It is reverent.