The Great Gathering Place

Written by Naomi McIlwraith

Illustrated by Onedove

Kids Can Press

978-1-5253-1010-2

32 pp.

Ages 4–8

June 2026 

 

We all need safe places. Whether it's a place to gather with others, to teach and learn, or to celebrate or honour our ancestors, a gathering place can be that safe place for Indigenous peoples. It enables connection with community and culture both spiritually and earthly. This is the story of The Great Gathering Place.

From The Great Gathering Place, written by Naomi McIlwraith, illustrated by Onedove

Naomi McIlwraith, a Métis educator and writer, invites readers to join her to "meet our friends and relatives, and we'll visit and talk for hours and days, just as the breeze and the leaves talk for hours and days." (pg. 4) They'll travel by a big red canoe to visit and give thanks, to feast, to share lessons, and to be kind.

From The Great Gathering Place, written by Naomi McIlwraith, illustrated by Onedove

At the Great Gathering Place, there are opportunities to look back and forward. It's about recognizing those like Grandfathers, Sky and Buffalo; Grandmothers, River and Antelope; Cousins Moose and Sturgeon; and River and Fire. It's looking at learning from each other, even if it means disagreeing, but always with gentleness, kindness, and love. 

From The Great Gathering Place, written by Naomi McIlwraith, illustrated by Onedove

The Great Gathering Place may be a concept of Indigenous cultures, but it is one that we all could recognize in our own ways. It's appreciating that which gave us life and which guides us. It's about lessons learned and still to be learned, and about gratitude which needs to be expressed. Naomi McIlwraith makes the journey to this safe spot accessible for all, even including Cree translations (with pronunciation guides) of key ideas. Her rhythmical text, though not rhyming, reflects the flowing nature of water and the heartfelt thankfulness for everyone and everything that impacts our lives. Naomi McIlwraith makes it seem very natural and yet gloriously profound.

 

The art by Onedove, a Cree and Métis illustrator, may have been created digitally but it feels traditional. I wouldn't have been surprised to read they'd used oil or acrylic, or gouache and watercolour. Onedove takes us to the rivers, lands, and skies where the Great Gathering Place brings people together. Their landscapes are rich in natural elements and colours, with much in reds and oranges, and their people are of diverse backgrounds. Inclusiveness through Onedove's art and Naomi McIlwraith's text is evident.

 

The Great Gathering Place may be a state of mind where we connect with others, but it's more than that. It is a place of safety where we can find ourselves, and others, and bring about healing, learning, and spiritual renewal. It's a place that makes us more of ourselves.

The Cedar Mother (Mothers of Xsan)

Written by Hetxw'ms Gyetxw (Brett D. Huson)
Illustrated by Natasha Donovan
HighWater Press
978-1-77492-158-6
32 pp.
Ages 9–12

February 2026

 

Eight years ago, Hetxw'ms Gyetxw, who is also known as Brett D. Huson, started his Mothers of Xsan graphic novel series to share his knowledge of the stories of the Gitxsan Nation of the Northwest Interior of BC. This series, now of eight books, has covered insects, fish, birds, amphibians, and mammals, and now I'm delighted to share his book about the cedar tree. Not only does The Cedar Mother speak to the life cycle of a cedar tree and its connection with other living things, but Hetxw'ms Gyetxw also shares his knowledge of the Gitxsan Nation and their Moons.

From The Cedar Mother, written by Hetxw'ms Gyetxw, illustrated by Natasha Donovan

This story of the western red cedar begins in April and the Spring Salmon's Returning Home Moon (Lasa ya'a). This tree, which has been around for over 300 years, now sits by a road that was "only a trail used by the Gitxsan, who had never seen a car, wagon, or horse." (pg. 2) Its growth from a tiny seed is helped by nutrients, rain, and sun. (Words that might be new to young readers, including nutrients, foliage, photosynthesis, and reverence, are defined in info boxes throughout the book.) 

 

But Hetxw'ms Gyetxw also explains how Nox Sim Gan (the cedar mother) is connected to other organisms in the ecosystem. She provides shelter and feeds animals with foliage and oxygen. She gives materials to the Gitxsan for clothing, for home-building, for medicines and, at the end of her life cycle, she will become a story pole. Because of her persistence and vitality, "she is a beacon of hope and a symbol of the enduring strength of the natural world. (pg. 15)

From The Cedar Mother, written by Hetxw'ms Gyetxw, illustrated by Natasha Donovan

Hetxw'ms Gyetxw writes with reverence for Nox Sim Gan in The Cedar Mother and for the role she plays in the environment and for the Gitxsan Nation. From birth through death, she provides. And, because of this, Hetxw'ms Gyetxw gently reminds us that attention must be paid, and our stewardship is required so that she may continue to share herself with the earth and its living things. Not a boring life cycle story, The Cedar Mother tells us how a western red cedar is a part of something far greater. It is part of a community.

From The Cedar Mother, written by Hetxw'ms Gyetxw, illustrated by Natasha Donovan

Natasha Donovan, who illustrated the earlier books in Mothers of Xsan series and Tasha Spillett's Surviving the City series, takes readers into the forests where Nox Sim Gan grows and flourishes, giving and sharing. Its majesty is evident from the scale at which she draws it, and the benevolence of its presence is clear in all illustrations as it interacts with other species. Natasha Donovan keeps the focus on Nox Sim Gan always, whether at the base of its trunk or buried in its foliage, preserving the natural elements in earthy colours of browns and greens. With Natasha Donovan's illustrations and Hetxw'ms Gyetxw's occasional contributions of formline art (see the spirit pole above), as well as his text, The Cedar Mother is a respectful acknowledgement of the connection between the natural world and the Gitxsan, and the reverence necessary to appreciate and to sustain its place.

 • • • • • • •

 

Mothers of Xsan series

The Sockeye Mother (2018)

The Grizzly Mother (2019)

The Eagle Mother (2020)

The Frog Mother (2021)

The Wolf Mother (2021)

The Raven Mother (2022)

The Bee Mother (2024) 

The Cedar Mother (2026) 

Shirley: An Indian Residential School Story

Written and illustrated by Joanne Robertson with Shirley (Fletcher) Horn

Second Story Press

978-1772604542

70 pp.

Ages 9–12

Releases February 10, 2026 

 

Shirley, who originally came from Moose Factory, before moving with her family to the southern area of Treaty 9, on the Missinaibi River, remembers being happy. They hunted, fished, trapped, gathered food, and grew food in their garden. But when she was five, the Indian agent came, declaring that since her parents had separated, she and her siblings, which included three-year-old Billy and older sister Frances, would be going with him.  

From Shirley: An Indian Residential School Story, written by Joanne Robertson with Shirley (Fletcher) Horn, illustrated by Joanne Robertson

They were taken by canoe to St. John's Indian Residential School in Chapleau. The first order of business was separating the children into different areas, and Shirley declares that "separating us was their first act of cruelty." (pg. 11) As Shirley and her little brother were too young for school, she became the companion for the minister's young daughter, and Billy was kept outside with the chickens.

From Shirley: An Indian Residential School Story, written by Joanne Robertson with Shirley (Fletcher) Horn, illustrated by Joanne Robertson

When she was finally able to go to school, Shirley loved learning and felt that "being in the classroom took away some of the loneliness." (pg. 17) She saw her siblings at church and at mealtimes, but never being allowed to speak to them was difficult. 

From Shirley: An Indian Residential School Story, written by Joanne Robertson with Shirley (Fletcher) Horn, illustrated by Joanne Robertson

When St. John's Residential School was condemned, the children were moved to Shingwauk Indian Residential School in Sault Ste. Marie. They were able to see their father again, who presented them with generous bags of apples and oranges—which the supervisors took to oversee—and their aunt and uncle who "filled up more than our bellies in our brief visit. They filled up our spirits with good feelings." (pg. 18)

 

At their new school, their routines were quite strict. (The inside front and back covers display "Pupils' 'Timetable,' Shingwauk Home" with times, bells and activities, from workers to work  to the marching to dormitories and the saying of grace, laid out.) And, though Shirley and her friends find ways to endure the rigorous nature of their lives—having competitions, daring each other, and grabbing moments of joy when possible—Shirley missed her family very much. Not surprising that Shirley with others attempted several escapes, though hers were not successful being children so far from home. 

From Shirley: An Indian Residential School Story, written by Joanne Robertson with Shirley (Fletcher) Horn, illustrated by Joanne Robertson

The stories of residential schools are plentiful and always horrific. For children to be taken from those who loved them and to be forced to dissociate from family and their culture and heritage is heartbreaking. Shirley (Fletcher) Horn's story, as shared with Joanne Robertson (who wrote and illustrated The Water Walker, 2017), is an honest portrayal of her experiences, but still told in an age-appropriate tone. Enough stories of survivors of residential schools and of those who were victimized in those schools are plentiful and tragic. But, because Joanne Robertson and Shirley (Fletcher) Horn take Shirley's reminiscences, good and bad, and focus on her perspective on them and how she dealt with everything, what comes across most importantly is her resilience. As a child, she made herself think of other things, to delve into her learning, and to "shut off my loneliness." (pg. 30) She fought off bullies, fear, and, most of all, that loneliness. She is strong and gutsy, and she endured.

 

The images in Shirley: An Indian Residential School Story are a unique blend of photographs, many from Algoma University archives of Shingwauk Residential School Centre and from Joanne Robertson, and drawings by Joanne Robertson. By mixing two media, she helps us focus on Shirley and the other children, and less on their grim circumstances. By limiting colour to the children and any positive circumstances they appreciated like a confirmation dress, or the river banked by trees, Joanne Robertson reminds us of where the goodness is. 

 

Shirley: An Indian Residential School Story is an important addition to all compilations of middle grade stories about Indigenous children in residential schools. By telling her story, just as she did to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, Shirley (Fletcher) Horn's has found a way to share for those who endured the same and for those who cannot imagine it and need to be informed. 

Miya Wears Orange

Written by Wanda John-Kehewin

Illustrated by Erika Rodriguez Medina

HighWater Press

978-1-77492-125-8

40 pp.

Ages 6–8

August 2025 

Miya loves school and is far removed from experiencing the trauma that too many Indigenous youth had when sent to residential schools. But when her teacher reads a story of one little girl who had such an experience, it all becomes deeply personal for Miya.

 

Miya, the only Indigenous child in her class, is shocked to hear about the child in the book having her hair cut, having her doll taken away, and not being allowed to see her family. 

Miya thinks about how she is the only Indigenous kid in her class, and her chest feels tight.

From Miya Wears Orange, written by Wanda John-Kehewin, illustrated by Erika Rodriguez Medina

The story read by the teacher was an introduction to the upcoming National Day for Truth and Reconciliation. But Miya cannot focus on the importance of September 30th. Instead, she wonders if she will be sent to residential school because she is Indigenous.

From Miya Wears Orange, written by Wanda John-Kehewin, illustrated by Erika Rodriguez Medina

So begins a discussion between mother and daughter. Miya's mother explains more about the residential schools and that those schools are closed, and Miya would never be taken from her. With her big heart and much compassion, Miya feels so much for the children who were taken, and her mother reassures her that that would never happen to her and that wearing an orange shirt would honour those children. 

Though Erika Rodriguez Medina gives illustrations that are endearing, the story of Miya Wears Orange is a sobering one, and it is one based in the circumstances Wanda John-Kehewin experienced with her own child. This is not a worry a child should ever have. But by answering her questions, reassuring her with her words and her actions—letting her stay home one day and continuing with their daily routines, including picking her up from school—Miya's mom, and probably Wanda John-Kehewin, did everything right. With time and reassurance, Miya will worry less, though I believe she will always think about and feel for those children who suffered. For her, wearing an orange shirt could be for any and every day.

From Miya Wears Orange, written by Wanda John-Kehewin, illustrated by Erika Rodriguez Medina

Just as I have previously reviewed a book by Wanda John-Kehewin (Visions of the Crow, Book 1 of Dreams series), so too have I reviewed those illustrated by Erika Rodriguez Medina. (In fact, the last book I reviewed, The Friendship Blanket, was illustrated by her.) Her ability to keep the warmth of her art no matter the nature of the story speaks to her creativity and skill. In Miya Wears Orange, Erika Rodriguez Medina does not emphasize the horrors of the residential schools, the source of Miya's anxieties. Instead, her focus is on the child and her mother and the good things about school. Her colour palette is limited with much burnt orange and purples and burgundy, and occasional blue or turquoise, keeping the tone of a story about remembrance and empathy. 

From Miya Wears Orange, written by Wanda John-Kehewin, illustrated by Erika Rodriguez Medina

Miya Wears Orange may become an important read for introducing young children to the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation and also why we wear orange on September 30th. But I think it will also open discussions about children sharing their worries so those concerns might be lessened or alleviated. For little children, worries can become magnified very quickly, and for children of Indigenous heritage, for whom generational trauma is a potential, it's incumbent upon parents, teachers and those who care for them to be aware of their responses to texts and news related to residential schools. Those stories are horrific, even when adjusted for a younger audience, and attention and compassion must be applied to ensure an affirmative outcome.

Little Shoes

Written by David A. Robertson

Illustrated by Maya McKibbin

Tundra Books

978-1-77488-172-9

48 pp.

Ages 3–7

For release July 29, 2025 

In 2023, David A. Robertson, award-winning author of When We Were Alone and On the Trapline, collaborated with illustrator Maya McKibbin to create The Song That Called Them Home. That partnership of story and art is recreated here with another story based on an intergenerational relationship and based in the experiences of Indigenous Peoples. 

From Little Shoes, written by David A. Robertson, illustrated by Maya McKibbin

James is a kid who thinks big thoughts. His thinking is so big that it keeps him from sleep. What are his thoughts? He thinks about the earth's movements and gravity, about the stars and the constellations. He seeks consolation and wisdom from his mom, and the comfort he finds in her arms helps him sleep. But the next night, his sleeplessness returns. Even remembering the stories his kōkum had told him about the constellations and such, it's James's mother who reassures him.

From Little Shoes, written by David A. Robertson, illustrated by Maya McKibbin

And then James joins his kōkum on a march that ends at a memorial for children who'd attended residential schools and had never come home. There are numerous little shoes, teddy bears, tobacco ties, and flowers. When his grandmother shares with him that her own sister did not return from their residential school, James is overcome. That night when he again cannot sleep, he thinks about all those little shoes.

 

Little Shoes is both a big story about generational trauma of residential schools but a story that focuses on the comfort that comes from family. James's empathy is extraordinary in depth but perhaps not uncommon. Children, especially those who are empathetic, can feel so intensely about others' traumas and other experiences. David A. Robertson's "Author's Note" indicates a familial connection to this story, and I am impressed by the depth of feeling and thinking James, or David A. Robertson's son, demonstrates. I'm also saddened to think about the children in the residential schools and the children like James who empathize with them feeling so much trauma. I'm also thankful for those who are there to reassure, to illuminate, and to love those children through their challenges. 

From Little Shoes, written by David A. Robertson, illustrated by Maya McKibbin

Maya McKibbin, a Two-Spirited multidisciplinary visual artist living on the unceded traditional territories in BC, uses an interesting palette in their digital illustrations. Many of the double spreads are bathed in the dark blues of a night sky that are only lightened with the moonlight and stars. When the story turns to James' walk with his kōkum to the memorial, the colours meaningfully turn to the many hues of oranges, both a reminder that every child matters, and that there is hope for a better future. Beyond their colour palette, Maya McKibbin evokes comfort and discomfort, as well as affection and thoughtfulness, with great sensitivity.

 

Little Shoes, the book, will be a great discussion starter for families and classes about residential schools, about Every Child Matters, and about asking questions. But it will also inspire understanding and empathy for that which has happened so that tragedies like residential schools are not repeated.

Our Ancestors' Kitchen

Written by Willie Poll

Illustrated by Shaikara David 

Annick Press

978-1-77321-962-2

36 pp.

Ages 4-7

April 2025 

 

Our ancestors teach us that there are memories in our meals.

There is magic in our cooking.

There is culture in our food.

 

So begins Willie Poll's story of a child learning at the stove of her grandma. With each dish comes a story and an invitation to witness how their ancestors lived and her own memories of her Grandpa and her community.

From Our Ancestors' Kitchen, written by Willie Poll, illustrated by Shaikara David

First they cook the minoomin (wild rice) and the girl begins to see a different scene within the kitchen. She can smell the water in which the wild rice grows, and she can hear the frogs, and see her ancestors on the water harvesting the rice. 

From Our Ancestors' Kitchen, written by Willie Poll, illustrated by Shaikara David

Next, Grandma is cooking meat, and the child sees the kitchen transformed with the colours of fall and animals stocking food for winter, and she remembers hunting with her Grandpa. That meat brings memories of finding mooz (moose) with their moose calls, and the tradition of giving thanks with prayer and asemaa (tobacco) after the mooz's "spirit danced into the sky." As important is the sharing of the meat with their Elders so that they might also care for their community. Their cooking together continues with maple syrup (zhiiwaagamizigan) and sunchokes (ashkibwaa) and blueberries, each bringing memories of time with her Grandpa and with the lives of their ancestors. And when the family and friends gather to eat, their ancestors join them.

From Our Ancestors' Kitchen, written by Willie Poll, illustrated by Shaikara David

Willie Poll, a Métis writer from Sault Ste. Marie and now of Prince Edward Island, reminds us of the importance of food to culture and to connecting us with those who came before us. Whether we learned to cook the foods from their hands or how to harvest the ingredients from age-old practices, those culinary experiences are almost bred in the bone. And when connected to our ancestors, the experiences are almost spiritual, as this child recognizes in the richness of the memories and the awareness of her heritage. With each ingredient and dish, she is transported to places she has been and to people she may have never met. But still the sensory experiences of those foods have become a part of her, to share with others now and forever.

 

Shaikara David, an Indigenous Mohawk from Akwesáhsne, uses her double-spread illustrations to bridge the contemporary with the past seamlessly. On a single spread, the child and her grandmother cook in a modern kitchen which transitions to an outdoor setting of trees and water and include Woodland-style artwork on blue backgrounds for animals and more. (See the rabbit, fox, squirrel and birds in the illustration below.) Shaikara David creates an organic connection between the present and the past almost effortlessly but still with some whimsy like the presence of the water rising beneath the kitchen table upon which a frog sits.

From Our Ancestors' Kitchen, written by Willie Poll, illustrated by Shaikara David

Many of us know that connection with our heritage and our ancestors through food but Willie Poll and Shaikara David help us to see the one that comes through an intergenerational relationship and into a culture with which most of us are unfamiliar. Moreover, in her author's note, Willie Poll wants readers to think about Indigenous Peoples and their connection with the land, as well as other cultures and their connection to food and the land. It's a relationship that is borne from acknowledgement and appreciation, enduring generations even as things change around us.

The Rez Doctor

Written by Gitz Crazyboy

Illustrated by Veronika Barinova

Coloured by Azby Whitecalf

Lettered by Toben Racicot

HighWater Press

978-1-55379-924-5

64 pp.

Ages 12+

September 2024

Though this is Ryan Fox's story, it is also the story of any Indigenous person who has been disregarded in their health care, undervalued in their education, and an heir to a history of social injustice. It's also the story of those who endure, persevere, challenge, and succeed.

From The Rez Doctor, written by Gitz Crazyboy, illustrated by Veronika Barinova, coloured by Azby Whitecalf, lettered by Toben Racicot

Ryan recalls what it was like going to the walk-in clinic as a child with his mom. From his experiences and those of the other patients seeking medical help, the non-Indigenous doctor finds it easier to condemn their lifestyles and push painkillers on them rather than really try to help. At school, his classmates dream of careers like lawyers and doctors but with teachers who criticize his work, either telling him he isn't working hard enough or not to become conceited because he'd done well, Ryan couldn't imagine himself achieving much.

From The Rez Doctor, written by Gitz Crazyboy, illustrated by Veronika Barinova, coloured by Azby Whitecalf, lettered by Toben Racicot

Thankfully, Ryan finds much comfort in his family and their traditions. Even with an uncle who struggles with alcoholism, Ryan values the support and encouragement he receives. Still, it's a school visit from Dr. Esther Tailfeathers, a former student, who recalled the words of her grandfather that "You always have to prove yourself to your community" that helps Ryan focus on medicine.

Through hard work, Ryan graduates from high school and is admitted to the University of Lethbridge. With new responsibilities come new challenges. He's living away from family, he wants to fit in with his peers, and he's responsible for motivating himself. And while there's good that happens to him, like meeting Charm, Ryan is convinced he's messing everything up. Only his uncle, now at a remand centre, reminds him to not let his chance at a good life slip away. Ryan heeds his sage advice.

The Rez Doctor is an inspiring story of self-empowerment. For Indigenous youth who are faced with prejudice at school and outside of their community, The Rez Doctor reminds them that regardless of their circumstances, like having family with addictions, studying far from home, struggling with finances, and clashing with those who diminish their capabilities–Ryan is encouraged to switch from medicine to geology so he can get a job in the oil fields–they can work hard and try their best to reach their goals. As with all of us, they may not get what they want but they may, as does Ryan, who is able to return to his community and work in a Tribal Clinic making things better for the health of his Indigenous community.

From The Rez Doctor, written by Gitz Crazyboy, illustrated by Veronika Barinova, coloured by Azby Whitecalf, lettered by Toben Racicot

Gitz Crazyboy is a Siksikaitsitapi (Blackfoot) and Dene writer who works as a youth facilitator in Calgary. The story he tells in The Rez Doctor is a literary exemplar to Indigenous youth about what can be. Though Ryan's family shows him wonderful support, encouraging his culture and traditions and his aspirations, he still is responsible for his choices. He has big ones to make, but Gitz Crazyboy has Ryan demonstrate that, even when distracted by good and bad, he steps up.

From The Rez Doctor, written by Gitz Crazyboy, illustrated by Veronika Barinova, coloured by Azby Whitecalf, lettered by Toben Racicot

The realism of Ryan's story is unmistakable, though I don't know if Gitz Crazyboy is telling someone's story. It reads like a creative biography, and the artwork by Veronika Barinova, now also of Calgary, reflects that. Her artwork, coloured by Azby Whitecalf and lettered by Toben Racicot, manifests that realism in the stark clinic examination room, the austere classroom, and the grimness of the remand centre. She also brings joy through Charm and Ryan's relationship, the connections Ryan experiences with family, and the heart that he demonstrates when he returns to serve his community.

It's not necessarily easy or possible to break away from a legacy of prejudice and discrimination. However, Ryan of The Rez Doctor was able to do so, and in doing so he did good for more than himself. He brought compassion and understanding and true service to his community that could only bring more goodness and success for all.

Dad, I Miss You

Written by Nadia Sammurtok

Illustrated by Simji Park

Inhabit Media

978-1-77227-482-0

40 pp.

Ages 9-12

August 2024

 

Dad, I Miss You is a conversation that only takes place in the minds of a father and son as the boy is returned, again, to a residential school, leaving his father, mother, and two-year-old sister behind. It is a heartbreaking exchange that never takes place in person but tells us so much about the family and what they went through.

From Dad, I Miss You, written by Nadia Sammurtok, illustrated by Simji Park

As a young boy recalls catching a fish, having learned from his father, his father watches his son out the window, also thinking about how proud he is for feeding the family and sure the boy will be a good provider for his own family when he is a man.

From Dad, I Miss You, written by Nadia Sammurtok, illustrated by Simji Park

When the child hears the plane that will transport him far from his home, in his mind he tells his dad that he doesn't want to go back there. Hearing the same plane, his father is hopeful that it will be over soon if the boy just does what they say. After all, "They said it will be better this way." (p. 9)

 

And as the boy packs his things, he wishes that his dad would stop them from taking him and not to let them take his baby sister too. His dad has the same worries about his daughter.

From Dad, I Miss You, written by Nadia Sammurtok, illustrated by Simji Park

As the boy is taken away and endures the horrors of residential school, from the cold and lack of food to punishment and loss of language, his father keeps hope that his child is learning and will be home soon. But things are different when he returns home. Thankfully there is still love and acceptance and the wisdom to understand what he may be going through.

I know you've forgotten some parts of yourself, but after some time, you'll find yourself again. (p. 37)

Every story that speaks to the residential school experiences of Indigenous families is heartbreaking. But Nadia Sammurtok approach of getting into the unspoken thoughts of both son and father remind us of the emotional toll on both parents and children. While the son knows what he must live with at the school, from hunger and abuse, loss of culture and homesickness, his father does not know. The boy's family has been told a sanitized and misleading version of what his child will learn and do, but without first-hand accounts they cannot know what happens there. Still, as both father and son show stoicism, revealing their feelings and thoughts only to themselves, Nadia Sammurtok shows us the depth of their connection. They think about similar things but from different perspectives and readers can only hope that this connection will sustain their relationship through the hardships of a child taken away to residential school. (As the story is based on Nadia Sammurtok's own family history of residential school separation, we hope that they found strength in that connection.)

From Dad, I Miss You, written by Nadia Sammurtok, illustrated by Simji Park

Simji Park, an artist based in England and the Netherlands, uses pencil and watercolours to create scenes of great heart and feeling. Just as the dialogue between father and son is repressed, Simji Park's illustrations are subdued, using soft tones and quiet lines to depict simple scenes of home and school. She still conveys the muted comfort of home and the angst of the residential experience, but she does so with hushed ambience, reflecting the unspoken dialogue between father and son.

Every book that speaks about the tragedy of families separated when Indigenous children were forced into residential schools is unique and revealing. By focusing on the unspoken thoughts of a parent and a child, Nadia Sammurtok makes us see something a little different. The bond between a parent and a child is stretched and almost severed and yet there is hope that there is enough resilience to reunite and strengthen. Dad, I Miss You is a story of tragedy but also one of the capacity of family to reconnect and prevail.

 

• • • • • • •

Teaching about the residential school experiences is a challenging one for teachers and parents. A QR code appended to the book links to downloads of educational support materials. 

• • • • • • •

The Hawk Shadow

Written by Jan Bourdeau Waboose

Illustrated by Karlene Harvey

Kids Can Press

978-1-5253-1084

32 pp.

Ages 4-7

September 2024

 

When Serenity's older brother, Big Ed, decides to go fishing with his shiny new store-bought rod, she tags along with the hand-made one of spruce and moose sinew that her father has given her. But, though Big Ed is focused on the fishing he will do, Serenity's focus is elsewhere.

From The Hawk Shadow, written by Jan Bourdeau Waboose, illustrated by Karlene Harvey

As the two head out along Big Ed's fishing path to the river, Serenity revels in all the wonders of the natural world, from the sun and the singing robin, to a raven and some chokecherries. Big Ed may walk faster than Serenity but, even as she dawdles, he watches out for her. He also teaches her about their cultural beliefs from why the river is called Hawk River, the value of the cedar tree, and more.

From The Hawk Shadow, written by Jan Bourdeau Waboose, illustrated by Karlene Harvey

But when they start fishing and Serenity is distracted by a Red-Tailed Hawk that circles around her, and then leaves and returns, she realizes that he wants her to follow him. Fortunately, she does and finds that a little sister's help is needed.

From The Hawk Shadow, written by Jan Bourdeau Waboose, illustrated by Karlene Harvey

It's always a treat to read a Jan Bourdeau Waboose picture book. It's been far too long since her The Spirit Trackers (illustrated by François Thisdale) and it's lovely to revisit a sibling relationship that is embedded in an Indigenous community. The Hawk Shadow may be considered an Indigenous story–Jan Bourdeau Waboose is First Nation Anishinaabe of the Ojibway Bear Clan–but it also speaks to the interactions of an older brother and younger sister, an appreciation for the natural world, and a mindfulness to it and the messages within. Serenity is like her brother's shadow, following him, listening to his teachings, asking him questions, and ultimately freeing him from a dangerous situation. If she hadn't been mindful of him and of her surroundings, including listening to the Hawk, the siblings' outing may have had a far worse outcome. Jan Bourdeau Waboose shows us that even though  Serenity is watching and listening to everything around her, and is ostensibly distracted from her brother's words and quicker step, she is fully engaged. It's a lesson in being wholly present in place and with people.

Karlene Harvey, who has illustrated several other picture books including Melanie Florence's Kaiah's Garden, is a Tsilhqot'in and Syilx illustrator who respects the Indigenous basis for the story without highlighting any of the major styles such as the Woodland Style.  The realism of the Hawk's morphology is blended with the bold and the bright of the characters as they journey and fish but Karlene Harvey still adds light touches to remind readers of the community from which Big Ed and Serenity were born. In addition to the glorious end papers of beaded flowers, there's Big Ed's beaded bear paw medallion necklace and the bead work on Serenity's collar.

From The Hawk Shadow, written by Jan Bourdeau Waboose, illustrated by Karlene Harvey

Here's to listening, seeing, and being a part of something, whether it be a sibling relationship, the natural world, or a community. There is always much to learn and appreciate, even from the shadows.

We Are the Medicine (Surviving the City, Vol. 3)

Written by Tasha Spillett

Illustrated by Natasha Donovan

Coloured and lettered by Scott B. Henderson

HighWater Press

978-1-77492-110-4

64 pp.

Ages 12–18

August 2024

 

The Indigenous teens that Tasha Spillett introduced in the first two books in her Surviving the City series, illustrated by Natasha Donovan, are set to graduate from high school and they're thinking about their futures. But how can they look forward when the remains of 215 children are revealed at a former residential school in BC? What future is there when the injustices of the past continue to be disclosed, and discrimination and wrongs persist in new forms?

From We Are the Medicine, written by Tasha Spillett, illustrated by Natasha Donovan, coloured and lettered by Scott B. Henderson

Now that Dez has accepted themself as a Two-Spirit person and is in a relationship with Kacey, and Miikwan is dating Riel, the teens are enjoying stronger connections with others and in their community. But when the unearthing of hundreds of unmarked graves of children at a former residential school makes the news, the impact on the teens, particularly Riel, is palpable. Speaking in their school's sharing circle with Elder Geraldine, they express their fears, dismay, hurts, and anger. Miikwan wants to help Riel as he lashes out, but Elder Geraldine recognizes the "We have a right to feel angry. We just have to find something to do with that energy so it doesn't harm us or anyone else." (p. 10)

From We Are the Medicine, written by Tasha Spillett, illustrated by Natasha Donovan, coloured and lettered by Scott B. Henderson

With Riel trying to find a way to turn his anger into something healing, they come up with the idea of a powwow for people to gather safely–it's still a time of masking and social distancing–to honour those whose young lives were taken from them. But when Riel is drawn to a protest nearby and his Afro-Indigenous cousin Ginebig follows him, it's Ginebig who is accosted by the police, as is Riel who comes to his defense. It is there, in jail, that Riel, after dreaming of the spirits of those children from the residential school, realizes that they themselves are the medicine for healing.

From We Are the Medicine, written by Tasha Spillett, illustrated by Natasha Donovan, coloured and lettered by Scott B. Henderson

Tasha Spillett takes on a lot of important social justice issues in We Are the Medicine, including residential schools, truth and reconciliation, police violence, monuments that are reminders of systemic racism, and more. It's a lot. But, just as they are issues that Indigenous people have been forced to experience historically and now, Tasha Spillett blends them authentically for these teens, who come from different places and narratives. Some are reminded of their own losses, like Riel whose brother Wayne was murdered by the police, or Dez whose beloved Granny had endured abuse at a residential school. They are understandably confused and angered and stymied by questions about why things have happened and are still happening, and how to make a difference and heal. The healing, for the past and for now, is imperative for them if they are to have a future for themselves and for others to make for themselves.

It's a new day. Let's do something good with it. (p. 15)

 

Natasha Donovan's illustrations, coloured and lettered by Scott B. Henderson, honour the characters in their diversity. Their experiences, at school, in relationships, with family and in the city, are distinct and reveal how they approach challenges and injustices. They may be different, but none are wrong. Natasha Donovan lets us see these teens in their struggles and their joys, from the harshness of police violence, told in sharp shapes and crushing colours, to the spirits who watch over the kids in muted blues. There's real darkness and sorrow in the news of the graves of residential school children and joy and colour in powwow regalia and in the gardening of medicinal plants. Natasha Donovan's art sets the mood and serves Tasha Spillett's story.

Dez and Miikwan and their friends carry heavy loads of history, family, fears, and abuse. The city has not made it easy for them. But their supports are growing, and they are finding ways to move forward, though never forgetting their pasts or that of their ancestors. Fortunately, they will heal and they will survive because the medicine comes from them.

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Surviving the City series

Surviving the City (2018)

From the Roots Up (2020)

We Are the Medicine (2024)