Wandering Stars

When I read the first pages of Tommy Orange’s debut novel There There, I was instantly gripped, emotionally and intellectually. I was thrilled to read Wandering Stars, which takes up the same characters, beginning with the inception of the family’s trauma at the Sand Creek Massacre.

A number of years ago I read a book on the Sand Creek Massacre that was commissioned by the United Methodist Church as part of their repentance and reconciliation with Indigenous people; the leader of the massacre was a member of the Methodist Episcopal Church when he lead the attack on a group of women, children, and elderly men.

Orange begins his novel with a survivor of the massacre. Wandering and starving, he turns himself over to the authorities only show more to be arrested for a crime he did not do. He takes the name Jude Star after he is indoctrinated to be Christian and learns English.

Assimilation was one of the words they used for Indians becoming white in order to survive, in order that they might not be killed for being Indians.
from Wandering Stars by Tommy Orange

The next generation finds Star’s son Charles taken to a residential school with the purpose of destroying Native culture and erasing its history. After leaving the school, Star and fellow student Opal Viola try to build a new life. But generation after generation carry inherited trauma, each struggling with issues of identity, lost heritage, and substance abuse. The latest generation includes Orvil Redfeather, who was shot while dancing in his first Pow Wow, as told in There There.

It is an engrossing read with wonderful characters and storytelling, and a disturbing read as we are immersed in the experiences of these characters and are reminded of the horrendous acts against humanity that shaped our country.

Thanks to the publisher for a free book. show less

A generational story that connects to Orange's previous novel, There, There, but stands alone. Starting with Bird, who witnesses the Sand Creek Massacre in 1924 and escapes and is renamed Jude Star, we follow characters swiftly down the generations and see how quickly, effectively, and violently white people - including Richard Henry Pratt, of Carlisle - attempt to erase and eradicate Native American tribes, culture, and individuals, and assimilate those they don't kill. Yet Star and his descendants survive massacre, prison, boarding schools, childbirth, transracial adoption, alcoholism, addiction, a powwow shooting (from There, There) and its aftermath, and still strive to stay connected to each other and learn more about their show more Cheyenne tribe.

Quotes

Sometimes it seemed like the world had ended, and we were waiting for the next one to come. (Jude Star, 11)

Hunger seemed to be keeping us alive while also threatening to kill us. (11)

...I'd taken an idea about second wind for myself. That if you could last through what seemed hardest, you got more, and that there lived somewhere in the body the ability to keep going even though it felt like you no longer could... (27)

Stories do more than comfort. They take you away and bring you back better made. (35)

It is the end of a world out there. (on the train to boarding school, 54)

He was once a child, an Indian child in Indian country, then his people put him on a train to the school, then the school took him further past himself and left him somewhere he couldn't find his way back from. (Charles Star, 71)

...white men in this country, they come to take everything, even themselves, they have taken so much they have lost themselves in the taking, and what will be left of such a nation once they are done? (Opal Viola, 83)

[what does it mean] to live on the land that was taken from you, to have to still live on the land that was taken and keeps being taken. Did it feel like it kept happening in present time, not in the past but perpetually...? (Victoria Bear Shield, 102)

Know that it was always true that you were the only one seeing the world the way you were seeing the world. (Victoria Bear Shield, 113)

"The next part is the part where we live like we've been given a second chance, and not like something's already been taken away from us." (Opal to Orvil, 171)

I hadn't considered everything that had happened. How far back it had been happening to us....But surviving wasn't enough....Simply lasting was great for a wall, for a fortress, but not for a person.
And yes it would be nice if the rest of the country understood that not all of us have our culture or language intact directly because of what happened to our people, how we were systematically wiped out from the outside in and then the inside out, and consistently dehumanized and misrepresented in the media and in educational institutions, but we needed to understand it for ourselves. The extent we made it through. (Opal, 2447-248)

I tend to intellectualize in order to compartmentalize a feeling....Intellectualizing as a way to cope and control trauma-response. (Sean Price, 279)

I'm being asked to understand that with some people you love, they just won't end up being a part of your life. I'm being asked a question that it seems I can answer only by living. (282)

Maybe that's what we're all doing here. Alive long enough to get that when we die it's home we're going back to, and that we came here to know that when we die it isn't an end but a return. (Lony, 315) show less

This is Tommy Orange's sequel to his debut novel, There There, about Native Americans living in Oakland, California. Orange first takes the story back in time, into the lives of the grandparents, great-grandparents, and further back, all the way to the Sand Creek Massacre, and then forward through the years of incarceration, exile and loss, to the years of struggling to make new lives without the foundations of the old in Oklahoma and on to California. Then the novel moves forward, to after the events of There There, following Orvil, Opal, Jackie and others as they deal with what happens after.

Orange's second novel is more assured but no less pointed than his first. Providing the background makes what follows more understandable and show more harder to deal with. It also focuses on the aftermath of a shooting, the part that isn't newsworthy, the painful recovery into a new normal with the trauma of the event left for the survivors to come to terms with, or not, with the help of weekly therapy sessions, or not. And when a family is already struggling in other ways, someone who is quiet about their pain and the ways they find to address it can go a long time without being noticed. By tying this second novel so tightly to his first, Orange has written something that will be treasured by those who read There There, but inaccessible to those who didn't. Go read There There, then come back for this one. You will not be disappointed. show less

A follow up to There, There, this book spans generations before There, There but then takes us beyond that books ending. It follows many engaging characters in a humorous and beautiful way. As Orange did in There, There, he ignores the Western story arc and instead of grounding us in a steady narrative of progressing time and rising then resolving action, he plants us deep in the thoughts and experiences and place of each scene, and its only gradually as the chapters pass that we the readers slowly see a larger picture. I found this easier to follow than There, There (which I also enjoyed), but I'm not sure if that's a difference in his writing or that my Orange-reading muscles are getting in shape. If you loved There, There, or if you show more liked it but found it a bit too challenging and dark, I recommend this book highly! (If you hated There, There you probably won't like this one either.)

I can't wait to read more from Orange, definitely proving to be one of the greats of our time. show less

What does it mean to be an oppressed minority in a land where your people have lived for centuries? How can you contend with a government bent on your extermination and stealing your homeland? How can you define an identity when the dominant group fails to recognize your culture and traditions or sentimentalizes them for entertainment? Can you attain a sense of belonging from family ties and ancestral connections? Should you actively rebel or passively check out with substance abuse? Echoes of these questions arise repeatedly in places where versions of genocide have been practiced. In this remarkable novel, Tommy Orange focuses on how these questions reverberate in the Native American community.

He views the issues through the lens of show more one indigenous lineage—Star/Bear Shield/Red Feather—and follows it over a century and a half. He begins with the unprovoked and brutal massacre of indigenous people by US troops in 1864 at Sand Creek in Colorado Territory. He follows this atrocity by telling of the unjust incarceration of Indians under inhumane conditions in St. Augustine, Florida, and their re-education at Indian schools, where Native children often were physically, sexually, and emotionally abused under the guise of forced assimilation. Although the telling of these events is important for understanding the historical context of the story, this half of the book is less nuanced than the latter that deals with descendants living in Oakland, California. This part takes up where Orange’s previous novel ended—with the random shooting of Orvil while dancing at a powwow. The matriarch, Opal, is now caring for her ne’er-do-well half-sister, Jacquie and her three grandsons, Orvil, Loother, and Lony. This part of the novel follows these characters as they contend with the myriad of issues facing indigenous people today.

Orange uses a non-linear structure with frequent shifts in narrative style and perspective. Moreover, he reiterates his themes in multiple contexts. Although these approaches can be unsettling for readers, Orange succeeds in creating fully formed and nuanced characters along with enough action to be fully engaging. One can’t help but leave this novel with new insights into the complex nature of life as a Native American in the United States today. show less

I finished Wandering Stars a few days ago and have been carrying it around inside me, turning it over and over like a handful of pebbles. There is so much going on in this book.

• First off, the stories. So many characters, so many stories, woven together like a basket in the shape of a human heart, not a Valentine's one.

• Orvil! It's a long time since I read There There, so my memories of Orvil weren't vivid, but Wandering Stars made me anxious to go back and spend more time with him.

• The whole prequel/sequel thing. I want to go back and reread Wandering Stars with There There. I want to move back and forth between the books so that I can experience the whole chronology playing out.

• Orange can write! He has a gift for show more individual voices that are simultaneously wise and surprising. I found myself slowing down on specific sentences because I wanted to hear them in my head in the "best" way possible—the way truest to the characters' hearts. It's been a long time since I've highlighted this many remarkable sentences while making my way through a book.

• The intelligence of all the characters: young, old, together, chaotic, inside, outside. The articulateness of the individuals Orange picks means that I found myself thinking and learning no matter who I was spending time with in any particular moment of reading the book. It's been a long time since I've highlighted this many remarkable sentences while making my way through a book.

Flat out, Wandering Stars is a remarkable piece of fiction that I know I'll return to more than once in my reading life.

I received a free electronic review copy of this title from the publisher via NetGalley; the opinions are my own. show less

Tommy Orange’s follow-up to his debut novel, There, There, depicts the numerous current issues being faced by people of indigenous heritage. It starts after the Sand Creek Massacre (1864) with one of the Red Feather ancestors and moves through the many types of assimilation techniques undertaken by those in power to eradicate the cultures of the indigenous tribes. It is told in two parts. The first takes the historical timeline from 1864 to the 1960s, and the second takes place in the present in the immediate aftermath of the final violent scenes in There, There, and relates what happened to Orvil Red Feather, his brothers, and great aunt Opal Viola Victoria Bear Shield.

The storyline provides the historical background through a show more wonderful prologue and vignettes narrated by different voices. Each voice provides a piece of the larger picture. It addresses various forms of addiction and helps the reader understand why these addictions are so widespread in the indigenous community. I believe it provides a richer experience to have read There, There beforehand (or, at the very least, be familiar with how it ended). It is a little fragmented due to the multiple POV structure but is also effective in portraying the broader impact of multi-generational trauma. I am sure that this book will linger in my thoughts. show less