I have to admit that I struggled with this one, especially at first. Too many characters were referred to generally by their relationship to others, rather than by name (my uncle, my father, his sister, etc.). With multiple points of view on top of that, it took me an age to get grounded. This is a complex, highly structured generational novel that casts the reader backward and forward in time, again with tricky references to events and people that I found somewhat difficult to keep straight. I don't usually have this trouble with Erdrich's work, even though I often find her challenging in a good way. I hit my stride about half-way through, and now I am keen to re-read The Round House, which "goes with" this one, to see if that helps to internalize some of the connections. I will probably revisit Doves, at least in part, at some point. I think I was possibly trying too hard at the beginning, and should have followed my own advice about reading Faulkner---just let the story flow over you until it begins to gel. But if you're looking for a place to start with Erdrich, this may not be the one. ( )

This novel tells the story of several North Dakota families, mostly Native American, whose lives intersect because of a racially-motivated murder in the distant past. Louise Erdrich introduces multiple narrators, each with their own limited and biased point of view. While the story unfolds over multiple generations, the narrative is not chronological and time passes without specific references to anchor the story. This slow reveal feels similar to working a jigsaw puzzle as the reader figures out who is related to whom, and the overall sequence of events.

The novel is not a “whodunnit,” focusing instead on the murder’s ripple effect through subsequent generations. Some of those effects are well known in the community, and some are closely guarded secrets which come to light by the end of the novel. Coupled with Erdrich’s typically colorful cast of characters, this makes for great reading. ( )

The jumping around timeline was a little confusing. Good Stories, though. ( )

Well, I tried. An NYTimes book reviewer hailed this book as one of the top novels of the year (2008), so I bought the hype, scooped it up, and admired the cover for a long little while. Then I started reading ... and nothing grabbed my attention ... at all. And I became bored. Soon I realized I was 20-something pages in, had been introduced to a dozen characters, and felt completely unattached. Some might say I gave in too soon--that after 25 pages I should still be intently reading and waiting for those exciting veins of plot to pop up. Eh. Life's too short. The story just did not get me right off the bat and, although I'm not looking for a love-at-first-sight type of book-reading experience, I'm at least looking for a bit of intrigue. The writing in this story didn't grab me (at all!), and the story itself didn't grab me, and, well, as you can see--nothing was grabbed. And here ends my lengthy review of a measly 25 pages.

Except, you know what? Read the first page of the story. Then you'll be really into it. For that page. And then let me know what you think of the rest. And also inform me when that lovely first page comes back into the story's focus. I was into that.

Lastly, I'll say this. Upon another painful glance at the glowing reviews, I might someday have to give this another go. But first I'll foster my patience with something that has a few more immediate rewards for my undivided attention. ( )

Actually this is a comedy by my definition, a light book. I was expecting a heavy personal drama with societal elements, like “Beloved”, but it’s more like Christmas on the reservation: an English Christmas without England or Christmas. Like Dickens (whose serious theme was poverty), there’s the dark comedy elements—investigations and murders and lynchings. Even comedy can’t exist in total isolation from tension; then it wouldn’t be a story. There’s a lot of classical comedy elements though, as though despite the sorrows of the Obijwe to say that Indians and not just European lordlings (and, for that matter, the masters of the Negro blues), are not the only ones who tell simple, pleasing stories.

…. The American Indian Pentecostal story was funny. Screw you, Joel Osteen! Up yours, Discount Department! Credit cards come from the, Devil!…. It reminds me of one of those pale face, stuffy anti-Pentecostal evangelicals, who’s all (watch my neutral wording), Sure, God threw down in the Bible, but now, dog? He can’t get no shit up to get in the mood no more son.

It’s not convincing, but it is prudent. I remember one time, I was anxious and I saw a license plate, JRM 0137. I thought, Could that be, Jeremiah 1:37? Is it a sign? Will it tell me whether or not I actually need to worry or not?

When I could, I looked it up, but Jeremiah 1 only has 19 verses. It wasn’t a sign. Some things can be signs, signs of progress or lingering impairment, for example, signs of what pressure does to you. Some things can be signs in a classically religious way. But there’s plenty of static in between here and heaven, and sometimes that just ain’t no sign.

…. The mixed blood Indian girl who wants to go to Paris meets a French girl patient working in a mental hospital, who tells her, “I’m not French…. I’m messed up. I’m in a state hospital.” “Sacramento is the Midwest of California!” (LadyBird). And like the guy who’s like a picture of an American Indian from a picture book or a movie, but who’s a petty criminal.

Re: I’ve got to get out of California!

So that’s a symbol, lol.

…. I mean, not that these experiences are interchangeable like factory parts; the point is, it’s romantic until it’s where you live, right. Until it’s ordinary. Most people, most of the time, are not happy. Happiness, we think, must be…. Different.

…. Actually the whole mental chapter is perfect.

…. I thought I was normal once too. ^^

“I am small. I am whole. Nothing matters. Things are startling and immense.”

…. (But we have made a world and) there is no justice in this world we have made.

…. I do not know Who makes it right, but the strangeness of life fills me with fear.