The Round House

On an otherwise quiet everyday morning, Geraldine Coutts is viciously attacked, raped, and almost murdered. The Round House explores the aftermath of this event, all as seen through the eyes of her 13-year-old son Joe.

The Round House is a powerful book that deals with sexual assault, racism, injustice, PTSD, violence, and retribution. But it's also a book about a teenager finding his first job, having an unrequited and hopeless crush, hanging out with his friends, getting into petty trouble, and generally discovering who he is. Erdrich seamlessly juxtaposes these two stories, so that we can see Joe struggling with his mother's sudden depression after the trauma and then heading out to bike around town aimlessly with his closest friends show more within a split second.

Erdrich also interweaves in traditional stories and discussions of the struggles of Native Americans within the legal system. While the latter could be a teeniest bit didactic at times, it was an important framework to keep in mind with the story being told.

The characters in the book are interesting and well-rounded. Most everyone is complicated, often with conflicting feelings guiding them. For the most part, the characters are likable, but they still do things that are questionable or heartbreaking. In other words, they are like real-life people, who are rarely all good or all bad.

Erdrich throws in a few Easter eggs referencing characters in her earlier books, but this book stands alone quite well and you don't need to be a huge Erdrich fan to get into it. You do need to be someone who doesn't mind reading about some heavy topics and doesn't need a loose ends tied up, Hollywood happy ending closing out the book. If you want something that provides well-rounded, interesting characters and lots of food for thought (with a few dashes of humor here and there), then this is a good book for you.

The only real downside of this book for me was that the audio reader wasn't the greatest. His inflection bordered on monotone, and he didn't give the characters different voices. It gave an otherwise very gripping book a bit of a dull edge. show less

It's 1988, and 13-year-old Joe's mother has barely escaped with her life after a brutal rape. If she knows who the perpetrator was, though, she is refusing to say, leaving Joe determined to learn the truth.

There are, I think, places where this novel feels more than a little resonant of the kind of mystery story where plucky kids investigate crimes, but it's a version of that sort of thing that's infinitely more adult, complex, dark, and sad.

It's also interesting to think about it in terms of discussions I've seen in recent years about stories that feature the rape of women, but focus not on the experiences of the women themselves, but on those of the men around them. Far too often, what happens in such cases is that the women become show more little more than props in a male character's story, there to provide something for them to be upset over and to motivate their actions. Which is ugly on multiple levels.

On the surface of it, I suppose you could characterize this as one such story, and maybe one could legitimately criticize it for that, but Erdrich's use of this particular narrative feels anything but cheap and misogynistic to me. This isn't really a story about a woman being sacrificed on the altar of some male hero's dramatic character development, so much as it is a larger story about various kinds of justice and injustice in the lives and the history of Native Americans, both men and women. And that, I think, it does in nuanced, thoughtful, and affecting ways. Also with a last line that left an achy feeling in my heart. show less

This is my first novel by Erdrich set in her Native American world, and what a humdinger! A portrait of a true village, the Native-White tensions, and a band of 13 year old boys on the cusp of adulthood. Who is responsible for defending against evil? What is the difference between law and justice?

There are wonderful moments when we see people at their most balanced and dignified, and sad ones where others are self-destructive. People can be redeemed, and move past their abandonment into a productive and insightful life, and people can recover from the worst that has happened to them, but not without pain. The writing is wonderful - how Erdrich can inhabit the world of a 13 year old boy!

And read it carefully. Some things are foreshadowed show more that I missed, partly because I read the story in chunks instead of through. The story is told by one of these boys, now grown and a prosecutor, of the most traumatic time in his life, and he leaves clues. show less

I read Louise Erdrich's "Love Medicine" -- her first novel -- and while I found certain scenes beautiful and memorable and thought that the writing was top drawer, I also found the whole thing so oppressively sad that I didn't think I'd read Erdrich ever again. Still, thanks to an itchy Kindle finger, I became the owner of a copy of "The Round House." I'm glad that I did.

There are parts of "The Round House" that are sad, terrifying, and flat-out heartbreaking, but they're weaved into a larger story that focuses on friendship, family, love, and resilience. It is, in a way, a deeply nostalgic novel, both for a way of life particular to the novel's setting (the nineteen eighties, an Ojibwa reservation in Minnesota) and for the intense show more thrills and gigantic emotions that come with early adolescence. Joe, our young main character, hasn't seen much of the world, but his observations and understanding of the way that the reservation he lives on works are fascinating and, as often as not, genuinely funny. Although he's an only child, he's seldom alone: this book is as much about him as it is about his large extended family and social circle, and the genuine love and affection that exists between them. Readers' comparisons to "To Kill a Mockingbird" are not out of place. the reader gets to see Joe, our main character, try to negotiate both typical teenage dilemmas and more human evil than one person should have to witness in his lifetime. Erdrich's prose is still a pleasure to read: it has an easy, natural flow that marks her as a true storyteller. What really shocked me, though, was this book's gritty optimism, its description of people in tough situations committed to making the best choices they're capable of. I'm glad that this one forced my to reconsider how I feel about this author. Now to check out some of Erdrich's other books. show less

Joe Coutts, the thirteen-year-old protagonist of Louise Erdrich’s latest novel, is faced with a moral dilemma that few adults could easily come to terms with. His mother has been violently raped and has retreated into a world of solitude and silence, unable to verbalize anything that will help to identify her assailant. His father, a tribal judge, grudgingly allows his son to join him in examining some files that might lead to a suspect. Once involved, Joe feels an enormous obligation to solve the crime in order to help his parents overcome the state they’re in now.

The problem that Erdrich exposes is the uncertainty on reservation land as to what judicial entity oversees crimes involving the Ojibwe population in North Dakota. In the show more innocent and endearing Joe, she has created a character that faces the reality of reservation life with aplomb and eyes wide open. The biggest problem in his view is a question of justice. As we’ve come to expect from the author, the tale is based in truth and told in spectacular prose.

One quibble I would have with this book is that it lacked the sumptuous complexity of her earlier novels and is especially less intricate than the wonderfully multifaceted Plague of Doves, which was a finalist for the 2009 Pulitzer Prize. I missed the non-linear structure that I’ve come to expect from Erdrich. The linear structure she utilizes, telling the story from beginning to end with one narrator, let us get to know Joe very well, but there was no nuance. Hair-splitting for what was a very good book, I guess, and one that I would recommend. show less

Happy endings are expected in romance novels, and because this isn't one, prospective readers will need to adjust their definition of a happy ending. A very well-written account of the prevalence of rape culture and femicide on both Native American Reservations and across the Plains states. In addition, this one requires an immediate shift in perspective regarding when and where vigilante justice is not only morally acceptable but mandatory.

The Round House opens with Joe and his father finishing a job in the garden, wondering why Joe’s mother Geraldine hasn’t yet returned from an appointment. Assuming car trouble has left her stranded, they head out to find her and bring her home. But the situation is much worse than they feared: Geraldine was sexually assaulted. Because Joe and his family are Ojibwe, their case barely attracts the attention of local authorities. But Joe’s father Bazil is a tribal judge with years of experience litigating cases within the Ojibwe community and between their community and the white establishment, and so begins his own investigation. Joe is only 13, so Bazil is reluctant to share details with him. This changes when Joe, working on his show more own, discovers valuable evidence.

But this book is much, much more than an investigation into a criminal act. It’s the story of a family trying desperately to hold themselves together while they heal. It’s the story of a young boy coming of age, hanging out with his friends, getting into trouble, and resisting his parents’ attempts to control him. And it’s the story of the larger Ojibwe community’s struggle to maintain independence in the face of discriminatory government policy. These threads all tie together into a powerful tale of love, loss, and hope. show less