CULTURE
Five Books from the First Peoples By Nicolas Gendron, cultural journalist
NECESSARY – Naomi Fontaine, Marie-Andrée Gill, and Michel Jean are now well-established in fiction or poetry. Since the month of June is devoted to Indigenous literature, the opportunity was too good not to drink it up, regardless of the label. Because this isn’t a genre, strictly speaking, and even less so a uniform production, but rather a field of possibilities that has been kept away for too long. Reading the First Peoples is a vibrant duty, and a powerful joy.
MONONK JULES
by Jocelyn Sioui (Hannenorak, 2020) With its DNA as an “archaeological site,” author and puppeteer Jocelyn Sioui walks in the footsteps of her great uncle Jules Sioui, a Wendat activist recognized in his time as “the thorn in the side of the federal government.” In late 2016, the artist discovers, while reading La femme qui fuit by Anaïs Barbeau-Lavalette, that the Automatistes supported Jules during his hunger strike in 1949 as he refuted the sedition charge that was brought against him. Didn’t her great uncle deserve more than these two Polaroid pages? Hence this astonishing archival enterprise, which tackles both the absurdities of the Indian Act and the roots of past and present Indigenous struggles. Thanks to muddled trial excerpts and fiery correspondence, and through their obvious connection as orators and storytellers, the two Siouis meet across the ages, without sparing the blind spots. A worthy and troubling personal and social essay.
OKINUM
by Émilie Monnet (Les Herbes rouges, 2020) “Dreams are like invisible gifts; they are the language that allows the ancestors to communicate with us and that sharpens our intuition.” Right from the outset, FrancoAlgonquin multidisciplinary artist Émilie Monnet opens up about her creative process, which is highly spiritual. The symbol of the beaver, whose dam gives its title to this play, and a warrior’s journey through the hospital setting weave a sensory web where anger gives breath. Anishinaabemowin is learned before our eyes and quickly rebounds in persistent echoes. What if vulnerability were a luxury? What if healing stories were lurking in the hollows of our nights? What if the beaver were a large-scale cleanup agent, even imposing itself when seen from space? A solo in profound dialogue with its audience—or its readers—and a Governor General’s Literary Awards finalist, showing that the institution doesn’t always turn a deaf ear.
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