Category Archives: Native American history

God’s Country, by William Kent Krueger*****

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“In the myth of Windigo, there is only one way to kill the creature. A man has to become a Windigo himself.  His heart has to turn to ice. The danger is in the possibility of that man remaining a Windigo forever. What must happen is that once he’s killed the monster, someone has to be waiting with hot tallow for him to drink, to melt his icy heart.”

God’s Country is the 21st entry in William Kent Krueger’s long running Cork O’Connor series. My thanks go to NetGalley and Atria Books for the review copy. This book will be available to the public August 18, 2026.

The regular characters are all here; we have the (now retired) cop himself, along with his wife, who is a member of the Ojibwe (Chippewa) tribe. His grandson, affectionately called Waaboo, has visions, and has recently dreamed of a wolf eating Cork’s heart. The boy is shaken, and the family takes it seriously; after a trip to the doctor and some tests, Cork has the green light to proceed with the trip into his favorite wilderness area, known as the Boundary Waters. He goes along with generations of other men in his family, but not until he has first seen Henry, the tribe’s centenarian wiseman, with whom Cork has a close bond. But Henry isn’t big on straight answers; he merely asks Cork whether Cork himself might be the wolf.

A side note: is this an established practice within the tribe, that the men all go to the wilderness while the women all stay home? I’ve read a few of the books in this series, and though they are written with respect for women, the roles are always sharply divided by gender.

Moving on.  

The expedition hasn’t traveled far when they find an alarming sight. Various aspects of their first camping location show that someone has been there before them, and that it hasn’t gone well. Cork concludes that the previous group is led by Cordell Bishop, a close friend; Cork believes his friend may be in danger, and the group trip is aborted, with the other men herding the young boys safely back home while Cork searches for his friend and whoever is with him.

From this point, I won’t tell you much except that in addition to confronting the enemies that lurk in the Boundary Waters, Cork also is forced to confront the enemy within himself. In that respect, this book differs from the earlier ones, and I can see the sense in it. Most of these books have featured Cork going off into the wilderness and meeting up with baddies. I’ve enjoyed all of them, but breaking up the trend before it becomes monotonous was smart thinking on Krueger’s part.

From previous experience, I knew this was going to be a solid mystery, and so I shook off the summer doldrums by jumping over some galleys with earlier publication dates to get to this one. I’m not one bit sorry, either.

Highly recommended, whether you’re a faithful fan of the series, or heading into it brand new.

Vengeance, by Tom Clavin***

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Tom Clavin is the co-author of Blood and Treasure: Daniel Boone and the Fight for America’s First Frontier. I learned a great deal from that book, and decided that I was going to read everything this author writes. Although he does a creditable reporting job with his new book, Vengeance, which details the last battles of Custer, Crazy Horse, and Sitting Bull, it lacks the luster of his Boone biography. Nevertheless, my thanks go to NetGalley, St. Martin’s Press, and Macmillan Audio for the review copies. This book is available to purchase now.

My motivation in reading this book was in knowing that for once, Custer wouldn’t defeat the Native forces he sought to annihilate. Had I thought a little harder, I would have realized that the American Indians never came out on top in the long run, and that a hard-fought battle in which Custer is killed—primarily through his own stupidity—was not going to end well for anybody. Nevertheless, I came away feeling that this story was both duller and also more depressing than was necessary.

The facts that are used here, as well as the documentation for them, are beyond reproach. The point of view, however, leans more toward the U.S. Army than the tribes and their leaders. It would have been nice to have present day Native historians weigh in and be heard more. Also, when a hard, horrible tale must be told, a truly skilled author can find ways to break up the horror. My sense is that Clavin didn’t really try.

Johnny Heller narrated the audio version, and he did a fine job of it. Without his narrative, I might not have finished it.

For those looking for the basic facts of this conflict and its aftermath, Vengeance will serve well. For those in search of a general historical read, I’d look elsewhere.

The Free and the Dead, by Jamie Holmes

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Author Jamie Holmes has written a history of the Seminole Wars, and since I had long intended to read a bit more about the Seminole tribe, I dove in. My thanks go to NetGalley and Atria Books for the review copy; this book is for sale now.

Generally speaking, reading about the depredations of the U.S. and local governments upon Native tribes is demoralizing, depressing, and on occasion, guilt-inducing. After a certain amount of it, I turned ostrich and decided I wouldn’t do it anymore. But I was aware that of all the tribes in what is now the U.S.A., the Seminoles were the only ones that had never been entirely dislodged from their original homes. This is what made me want to read this particular history, the knowledge that in the end, the Seminoles would not be completely vanquished.

The operative word there is “completely.” Yikes! There’s still plenty of gore, death, and heartbreak, as I would have recognized from the title had I been more attentive. Here’s one of the more searing samples, which deals with the death of a Seminole leader named Osceola following the conclusion of the war:

“Before he passed, he asked the physician a favor. He wished to be buried in the Florida Territory, at a site where his bones would not be disturbed. The surgeon, finding himself alone with the body, cut off Osceola’s head as a personal keepsake, took it home, and embalmed it. Later, the doctor would hang the head on his children’s bedstead, as punishment for misbehaving.”

Holmes does find ways to break up the horror occasionally with irony and humor, usually at the expense of the tribe’s would-be conquerors, but at the same time, he’s writing nonfiction, and he can’t make this thing any prettier than the truth. A whole lot of Seminoles died, either from battle, disease—so much disease! —or while imprisoned. The consolation, if there can be any, is in knowing that they took a whole lot of U.S. fighters with them. The U.S. government, led by President Andrew Jackson, whom I believe is remembered far more positively than is deserved, spent a wildly disproportionate amount of its funds while attempting to dislodge the tribes, but the Seminoles had a way of vanishing into the Everglades, a place they knew infinitely better than the invaders. And this is one more thing I appreciate about Holmes’s narrative: he tells the stories of individual Seminole leaders, and includes as much information about Natives as he does about the Caucasian interlopers.

This work was published last winter, so I am terribly late with my review; I had to take it in small amounts in order to get through it. However, it is very well researched and its documentation is excellent, and Holmes is a writer of formidable ability. To those with the fortitude and interest, this book is highly recommended.

The Tree of Light and Flowers, by Thomas Perry****

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The Tree of Light and Shadows is the eleventh and final entry in the iconic Jane Whitefield series by Thomas Perry.  My thanks go to NetGalley and The Mysterious Press for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

For those unfamiliar, Jane Whitefield is a Seneca Indian woman with a past avocation of helping people that need to disappear. The person in question might be a woman running from an abusive relationship; an innocent person that’s inadvertently run afoul of the mafia or some other dangerous group or individual; or someone that has been wrongfully convicted of a crime. Jane combines her Native tracking skills with modern methods of blending in or hiding away. However, in recent years she’s given it up, eschewing the danger for a normal life with her husband, who is a physician, and their baby girl, May in Amherst, New York.

However, the universe has other plans for her right now. Clare, a young Indian girl who has stabbed her rapist, has learned that she is wanted for murder. The dead man was Caucasian, and he moved in powerful circles. Knowing she is unlikely to get a fair shake in an Oklahoma courtroom, she heads for New York to find the distant relative that she’s heard will help people like her.

At the same time, a Russian woman named Magda has been hired by someone with a vendetta to find and kill Jane.

The dual storylines are deftly handled, which doesn’t surprise me, since our author is Thomas Perry. But there is one misstep that happens early on that niggles at me for the rest of the book. When Clare finds Jane, Jane decides the girl is too young to be established on her own, so she tells her husband that she wants Clare to remain with them. Clare will go to school and help with the baby. And then—here it comes—she runs out to do errands and leaves the baby with Clare! Would someone as seasoned and astute as Jane leave her infant daughter in the care of someone that might be attacked by people from her past, and do so before the girl has been in her home for even 48 hours? I find this so jarring that I am unable to entirely forget about it for the duration of the novel.

Nevertheless, the book holds my interest, and I look forward to my session reading it each day. When the conclusion is near, I can’t walk away from it until I see how it ends. This doesn’t happen often. I am lucky enough to have been given access to both the audio and digital review copies. I haven’t been able to learn who the narrator is, but whoever he is, he’s good.

I just read of Perry’s sudden death while writing this review. He was such a force within the world of mystery writers that I can hardly believe it. While this book wasn’t the best thing he ever wrote, it is still quite good.

The River We Remember, by William Kent Krueger*****

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William Kent Krueger has been writing since the late 1990s, but he only came onto my radar in 2019, when he published This Tender Land. To read Krueger once is to want to read him again and again, as often as is possible, and that’s what I’ve been doing. The River We Remember is his most recent mystery, an achingly atmospheric novel set during the 1950s in rural Minnesota. My thanks go to Net Galley and Atria Books for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

The protagonist in this stand alone whodunit is the local sheriff, Brody Dern. Brody is a thoroughly believable character; there’s nothing of the TV sheriff about him. When the wealthy, universally hated Jimmy Quinn is found floating dead in the river, Dern does not lose sleep while vowing to find and reveal the entire truth. His first response is his own deep resentment that Quinn had to go and die in what had been, until now, Brody’s favorite spot to relax. How dare stupid, rotten Jimmy Quinn ruin this special place with his bloated corpse? And his second instinct is to minimize the damage to everyone else concerned. For example, the Quinns are Catholic, and if Jimmy committed suicide, they can’t bury him with the family. If not suicide, then perhaps a family member could stand it no more and shot him dead. Again, if so, no great loss, and let’s make sure the family is taken care of. And so, Brody’s first instinct is to wipe down Quinn’s truck so that, if other authorities should become involved in the case, none of these poor people will have to suffer for it.

Then, he goes to the evidence cabinet and removes some of the confiscated drugs so that he can get a decent night’s sleep.

Part of what fascinates me here is the culture of small town Minnesota during this time period. People don’t lock their doors most of the time. When a prisoner that Brody knows is almost certainly innocent requests a sharp knife in order to carve something, Brody gives it to him, right there in the cell. There are a number of interesting secondary threads, and all contribute to the steamy, smoldering ambience in which this story is set.

But oh lordy, the racism. And in this, I know there is no exaggeration. The culture among the Caucasian population of this tiny town, with regard to Native peoples and those of Japanese descent is not so very different from what I experienced as a child, growing up in the 1960s and even the 1970s in suburbs on the American West Coast. It’s bad. It’s really bad.

A feature of Krueger’s work—a signature aspect, in fact—is the inclusion of American Indian cultures and sociopolitical issues in Northern Minnesota. In other stories I’ve read, it’s been the Chippewa; this time, it’s a Dakota Sioux man named Noah Bluestone, and his Japanese wife, Kyoko. The author develops his characters well, with no stereotypes or hackneyed pop culture. This alone makes his work worth reading, but there’s so much more.

Over the course of just a few short years, Krueger has joined other luminaries on my list of authors whose work I read without question. I highly recommend this book to all that love the genre.

Fox Creek, by William Kent Krueger*****

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I’d been in a reading slump, with most of my reading carrying an element of obligation; I love reviewing except when I don’t. Something had poked a hole in my reservoir of joyful discovery, and all the juice was leaking out. William Kent Krueger’s new entry in the Cork O’Connor series, Fox Creek, put a stop to all that. I found myself looking for extra openings in my day, craving the chance to bury myself in this absorbing mystery. I haven’t felt this great about a galley since last winter.

My thanks go to Net Galley and Atria Books for the invitation to read and review.

The story is set way up north in Minnesota, near the Canadian border, in the tiny community of Aurora. Cork, our protagonist, has left law enforcement and instead runs a diner, hiring himself out as a private investigator when the opportunity arises, which doesn’t happen often. When a man comes to the diner and asks Cork to help find his wife, Cork says he’ll think about it. Meanwhile, Dolores, the wife in question, is engaging in a sweat ritual out in the woods where the ancient and very wise Ojibwe healer Henry Meloux lives. It turns out that Cork’s would-be client is not her husband, and she doesn’t know him at all. He’s got a hidden agenda, alrighty, and he’s brought some rented thugs along to make his chore easier. Now there are two tasks: the first is to hide Dolores, and the second is to find out who these guys are and why they want her so much. Meanwhile, Cork’s wife, Rainy, guides Dolores deep into the woods near the Boundary Waters; Henry joins them. What follows is one of the most suspenseful stories I’ve read recently. I have a hunch that Cork will be okay, since killing him would also kill the series, but the others—Henry, Rainy, and Dolores—might make it out, or they might not.

I was about to say that this is character-based fiction, so well rounded are the main characters, but the setting is resonant and important to the characters and the plot. All told, this is the way a novel is supposed to work, with strong characters and settings that make the plot believable and urgent. And as always happens when I read Krueger, I also learn some things about the setting, and about Ojibwe culture and history. (His depiction of the art of disappearing and eluding pursuers reminds me a little bit of Thomas Perry’s Jane Whitefield series, but that’s all the two series have in common, apart from genre.)

This is the 18th book in the series. Can you dive in, right here right now?  Emphatically, yes! I began with the prequel to the series, which came out last year, and I loved it so much that I went to the library to check out the first book in the series—and then, I found it disappointing, because over the course of this long series, Krueger’s skill has increased, so the first book, Iron Lake, is decent, but nowhere near as brilliant as his more recent work. Now I look forward to more of this series, but always going forward, never back.

This riveting novel will be available to the public on August 23, 2022. If you love this genre, you should get this book and read it—or better still, preorder it right now. You won’t be sorry.

Every Cloak Rolled in Blood, by James Lee Burke***-****

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James Lee Burke is an icon, a Grand Master who’s written mystery novels, along with the occasional work of historical fiction, since the 1960s. Now he is 85 years old, and he recently lost his beloved daughter, Pamala. This novel is a tribute to her.

My thanks to go Net Galley and Simon and Schuster for the invitation to read and review. This book is for sale now.

Every Cloak Rolled in Blood is the fourth in the Holland Family saga. Our protagonist is Aaron Broussard. He is an 85 year old novelist who has recently lost his daughter, Fannie Mae. He feels a “loneliness that is almost unbearable.” He tells us,

“I will not accept my daughter’s death. I will find a way to pull her back through the veil or untether myself and lie down in the bottom of a boat that has no oars and float down the Columbia and into the Pacific, where she will be waiting for me somewhere behind the sun.”

There’s a horrifying passage in which he places the barrel of his gun in his mouth; but he doesn’t go through with it, and later tells us that he believes he will not be permitted to join her if he leaves this world by his own hand.

The story commences with a young man vandalizing Aaron’s barn. Aaron recalls some local cops being unnecessarily nasty to Fannie Mae, so instead of turning the boy over to the cops, he makes a deal with him to have the kid work off the damage. There are other remarks laced in here and there that give a nod to our current national state of affairs regarding police brutality, and I appreciate these.

In fact, the story is laced with a number of social justice issues, and Burke is, as usual, on the side of the angels each time; foremost is the horrific manner in which indigenous people of the Northern Rockies have been treated by the U.S. government, and continue to be.

Over his last few novels, Burke has increased the amount of supernatural content in his work. For decades this aspect of his work was muted, smoldering as a part of the general ambience of the story. He’s always used the occasional Biblical reference, occasionally also borrowing from Greek mythology. In A Private Cathedral, a recent Robicheaux novel—the series that has met with the greatest public acclaim and for good reason—he included a scene that could not be perceived as anything other than supernatural. In fact, it is one in which both the protagonist and his lovable sidekick, Clete Purcel, witness the same event, so there can be no supposing it’s all in the protagonist’s head. It was brilliantly conceived and executed. Unfortunately, this book is not of the same caliber.

I wrestled a great deal with my rating and review; a large part of me thought that when a beloved novelist is in his eighties and has recently lost a child, I should just give him the five stars. Yet another part of me, the part that won the internal debate, feels that to do so is unworthy of the respect this author has earned. It would be patronizing to say this is a great book when I am so ambivalent about it. So I’m playing it straight here. The supernatural aspect, as it is used here, overwhelms this story and damages it organizationally. It also causes the pacing to lag a bit. It’s not a terrible book, but it’s not up to Burke’s usual standard.

But the aspect that bothers me most is the way the younger women in the story—not just one, mind you, but two—cannot wait, apparently, to get Aaron in the sack. Sister Ginny isn’t a good person, but she tries to seduce him anyway. Ruby Spotted Horse is a good, honorable woman, that rarest of all things: an ethical cop. She’s in her thirties, but when Aaron comes onto her, she doesn’t even hesitate. We learn that she was raising her niece, who died, and there’s a clumsy passage in which Aaron wonders aloud if Ruby is really up for a relationship with him given his age, but she assures him that they are bound together by their mutual losses.

Right. Whatever.

There are many lovely moments in this novel, all of them owned by Fannie Mae. There is such clear, obvious affection in the descriptions that I am a little surprised the pages don’t glow.

The denouement, a mighty struggle involving the living and the dead, leaves me shaking my head, though. And when one of the latter, an evil spirit representing a horrible cavalry officer that once lived and killed in the vicinity, tells Aaron, “Pardon me for saying this, but you’re not the good father you think you are,” I want to sit right down and cry.

This book is recommended to diehard Burke fans, and to anyone that needs a grief book.

The Sentence, by Louise Erdrich*****

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I wasn’t able to get a galley this time, and so I checked out the audio version from Seattle Bibliocommons. This turned out to be the best possible way to read it, because Erdrich narrates it herself.

The Sentence is set in Minneapolis during the pandemic, from November 2019 to November 2020. It starts with the world’s most hilarious crime, one which sends our protagonist, Tookie, to prison; however, most of the meat of the story takes place once she’s out again. Tookie develops a love of writing (“with murderous intent,”) while she’s incarcerated, and so, once she is released, what more natural place is there for her to look for work, than a bookstore? But this bookstore is special. It’s haunted.

Tookie’s story is wrapped around a number of social issues and current events; most prominently, of course, is that of American Indians’ rights; this is the time and place of the murder of George Floyd by Minneapolis cop Derek Chauvin, and so the demonstrations of outraged citizens are folded into the novel as well. And of course, this is not one bit funny.

I came to read Erdrich late in the game, when The Night Watchman, which won the Pulitzer, came out in 2020. That one novel persuaded me that from now on, I would read every blessed thing Erdrich writes. The Sentence strengthens this resolution.

Highly recommended.

Lightning Strike, by William Kent Krueger*****

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Lightning Strike is the prequel to William Kent Krueger’s successful, long-running mystery series based on a Minnesota sheriff, Cork O’Connor. This is my introduction to the series; my introduction to this author came in 2019, when I read and reviewed This Tender Land.  I read this free and early, thanks to Net Galley and Atria Books. It will be available to the public Tuesday, August 24, 2021.

In the prequel, Cork is twelve, and he’s on a camping expedition with his friend Jorge when they come across a body hanging off the maple tree at Lightning Strike. What’s worse, it’s someone they know; the corpse is that of Big John Manydeeds, the uncle of a close friend. Cork’s father, Liam, is the sheriff, and although he’s been told to let the adults investigate this horrific event, Cork keeps coming up with useful bits of information.

Seems he has a knack.

One of the most admirable aspects of Krueger’s writing is the way he folds his setting, characters, and plot seamlessly to create an atmospheric stew that’s impossible to look away from. The story takes place in the far northern reaches of Minnesota in (fictitious) Tamarack County, near Iron Lake and the iron range, as well as the Ojibwe (Chippewa) Indian Reservation, and the tension and conflict between tribal members, which include Cork’s mother and grandmother, toward Caucasians, which include Liam, are a central feature of this mystery. Tribal members insist that Big John would never have taken his own life, and even had he done so, he would never done it at this sacred location. At first they aren’t taken seriously, but as events unfold, it becomes increasingly clear that they are right. This was no suicide.

The key suspect in Big John’s murder proves to be the town’s wealthiest citizen, a tightfisted, overtly racist, elderly Scotsman that owns practically everything. He’s a suspect too soon to be the actual killer, I figure, and I think I can see where the story is headed, but without giving anything away, I have to tell you, Krueger introduces all sorts of twists and turns I don’t see coming, and they aren’t far-fetched ones, either.

There is dark foreshadowing all over the place, and the tension and outrage that exists between the tribe and law enforcement—well, the sheriff, really—grow to ominous proportions. Liam insists on examining facts and hard evidence; the Ojibwe are eager to include portents and messages from the great beyond. They want that nasty rich guy arrested now, if not sooner, and when Liam tells them that it doesn’t work that way because circumstantial evidence isn’t enough, that hearsay can’t win a conviction, they scoff and point out that when the suspect is Ojibwe, those things are always more than adequate. And again, they have a point. A local business owner who is Ojibwe tells him, “Sheriff, you better believe every Shinnob on the rez is watching you right now. Every step you take.”

While Liam is busy with his work, nobody is paying much attention to the boys; Cork, Jorge, and their friend Billy Downwind, who is related to Big John, poke around some more, and what they unearth is both shocking and dangerous.

Lightning Strike owned me until it was done, and though I rarely do this, I’m headed to the Seattle Bibliocommons to find the next book, which is technically the first in the series, because for this series and this writer, once cannot possibly be enough. Highly recommended!

Blood and Treasure, by Tom Clavin*****

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Daniel Boone’s story is legendary, but few of us know any of the particulars of his life and achievements, beyond the forging of the Cumberland Gap. When I saw this book, I leapt at the chance to read it. My thanks go to Net Galley and St. Martin’s Press for the review copy; this book is for sale now.

Boone’s life is often held up as a testament to what an individual can accomplish if he is hardworking and determined; yet though he was both of those things, this bit of lore is also partly myth. Boone is born into a well-to-do family, pioneers to be certain, but not ones forced to build fortunes from scratch. After parting ways with the Quakers in Pennsylvania, the family moves south.  Daniel is in love with the wilderness, and his physical strength, health, and stamina, combined with courage, resourcefulness, and a capacity to think on his feet make him a natural born explorer. He is an excellent hunter, and so he makes his living by selling animal pelts; also, it turns out that bears are delicious. (Sorry, Smokey.) But as others move westward, the game begins to dry up, and so he moves further westward than anybody else.

Boone is renowned as an Indian fighter, but the truth is complicated, and it’s political. There were a great many tribes involved, and often as not they were enemies with one another, at least in the beginning. In some cases, land was sold by a tribe that actually had no claim to it in the first place. This explodes the notion taught to us as children, that the Native peoples found the notion of selling land incomprehensible because of its sacredness; we see one tribe for whom this is true, but there were plenty of instances where a treaty was knowingly made, yet other factors also made it unenforceable. Most of all, Caucasian Americans failed to understand the lack of a top down decision-making structure within the tribes, and so often a chief or other leader would sign, but others within his tribe weren’t bound by his individual decision.

Then too, there’s the little matter of the American Revolution. Alliances are constantly made and broken, involving the British, French, Spanish, and Patriots. At one point, Boone loses his considerable acreage because his land is granted him by the Spanish, but the Louisiana Purchase renders his title null and void.

But it is the detailed recounting of Boone’s explorations (almost never alone, except in an emergency, so there goes the myth of the rugged individual) that makes this book fascinating. The scrapes he gets into, and how he gets out of them; the harrowing fates that befall those around him. He is captured and escapes multiple times.  And although the women in his life get little ink, my heart goes out to Rebecca, his wife, who is left alone with the younger children for months and months on end, often without any idea as to where his travels have taken him, and whether he’s coming back. There are so many ways to die out there, and it’s not like anyone can send her a telegram to let her know if everyone is killed. At one point, she gives him up for dead, and when he finally shows up, she is pregnant, and the baby cannot be his! She tells him that she believed herself a widow, and so she turned to his brother; Boone decides this is understandable, since that’s pretty much what widows are expected to do, and since his brother looks like him, it won’t be obvious to others that he isn’t the father.

Even more interesting, however, is his daughter, Jemima. Her strength and cunning in dangerous circumstances—particularly when she is kidnapped and plays a part in her own rescue—make me wish she had her own biography. Were gender roles not so restrictive, she would have made an outstanding lieutenant, and perhaps successor to her father.

I initially didn’t believe I could give this work a five star rating, because the sources provided aren’t well integrated, and Clavin has relied tremendously on one source, a biography written long ago by Draper. But after I read the endnotes, I realized that even if he had been merely rewriting Draper’s book for a modern audience, it would be a great service. The social and political perspectives dominant when Draper’s book was written would make most of us blanch today, particularly with regard to race and gender, and yet, Draper did a masterful job with research, extensively reviewing Boone’s family and others still living at the time. I came away convinced that Clavin knows his subject well, and though I taught American history and government for decades, I learned a great deal from this one nifty book.

Highly recommended.