CALLING FOR A BLANKET DANCE

A debut novel, told in a round robin of voices, depicts the complexities of contemporary Indigenous life.

As an infant, Ever Geimausaddle accompanies his parents on a road trip from Oklahoma to Mexico for a visit with his paternal grandparents. On the drive home, their car is pulled over and Ever’s father is mercilessly beaten by three corrupt policemen looking for a payoff. Ever was “so close to the violence, too close to the rage,” opines his Cherokee grandmother, Lena. “Oos-dis weren’t supposed to be around such things. They could be witched. Their spirit forever altered. A witching was almost incurable.” Has Ever indeed been witched by witnessing this primal act of violence? Ever’s mother, Turtle, calls the notion “superstitious mumbo jumbo,” yet the question hovers over the troubled protagonist of this immersive novel by a writer of Cherokee, Kiowa, and Mexican descent. Eleven chapters, each narrated by a different member of Ever’s expansive clan, form a prismatic portrait of the character as he grows up, makes a bad marriage, serves in the Army, becomes a father, works at a youth shelter, and struggles with his aggressive temperament while attempting to make a life for himself. The narrative technique recalls Rachel Cusk’s Outline in that we learn about the protagonist obliquely; as in the novels of Louise Erdrich and Tommy Orange, the chorus of voices—rendered in unadorned vernacular peppered with Indigenous words—evokes a close-knit Native community in all its varied humanity, anchored by tradition while marked by injustices past and present. A final chapter, narrated by Ever himself, offers, if not redemption, then a sense of hope.

Simply told and true to life.