Lemming's First Christmas

Written by Jamesie Fournier

Illustrated by Tim Mack

Inhabit Media

978-1-77227-543-8

28 pp.

Ages 0-5

October 2024

 

Avinngaq (lemming in Inuktitut) lives under a house and hears children singing, "Santa Claus is coming to town." When she asks Qimmiq (a sled dog), he tells her that Santa Claus puts presents under the tree. That just leads to more questions because Avinngaq doesn't know what a tree is. And so begins Avinngaq's quest to ensure Santa Claus visits her.

From Lemming's First Christmas, written by Jamesie Fournier, illustrated by Tim Mack

Qimmiq has a simple explanation about a tree–"It grows out of the ground, and you decorate it"–and he goes with Avinngaq to find one. The other Arctic animals bring forth what they suggest might be a tree. From Natsiq (a ringed seal) who brings some seaweed, and Tuktu (a caribou) who brings a purple saxifrage, Qimmiq can only tell what is not a tree. Other animals include Tiriganiaq (an Arctic fox) and Ukaliq (an Arctic hare) but it's not until Avinngaq rests on a piece of driftwood that Qimmiq confirms she's found a tree.

From Lemming's First Christmas, written by Jamesie Fournier, illustrated by Tim Mack

So, the friends decorate the driftwood with the seaweed, the purple saxifrage, arctic willow, and berries, sing, "Santa Claus is coming to town" and are delighted to find presents under the tree the next morning.

From Lemming's First Christmas, written by Jamesie Fournier, illustrated by Tim Mack

For our very youngest children, Lemming's First Christmas would be a bright beginning to the holiday season. Of course, they'll start singing the song too and it could get tiresome for the next seven weeks but maybe you could break that up with a reading or two of Lemming's First Christmas and some discussions about Arctic animals and plants, about cultural traditions, and even the magic of the holiday season. Jamesie Fournier, a writer in Iqaluit, keeps the story positive and simple, which is perfect for an early picture book–it has thicker pages and a reinforced cover–while introducing them to the Arctic and its plant and animal species, and teaching them a few words of Inuktitut. (A double-spread at the back posts the Inuktitut names and their pronunciations along with illustrations of the animals depicted.) It's very sweet and all the more so for Tim Mack's illustrations. I've reviewed several books which Tim Mack has illustrated (It's Time For Bed and What's My Superpower?) and his cartoon style of digital art will resonate with very young readers. His characters are cute and recognizable, and even if unfamiliar with an Arctic environment, children will recognize the play of shadows at night, the magic of snow and stars, and the quest for answers from those we know.

From Lemming's First Christmas, written by Jamesie Fournier, illustrated by Tim Mack

Get into the holiday season in a gentle way with Lemming's First Christmas. It's an easy introduction for those who may become overwhelmed with the customs of the holiday and let them see it from the perspective of a group of animals who interpret a tradition in their own way and make it a very sweet first Arctic Christmas.

 

 

I Am a Rock

Written by Ashley Qilavaq-Savard

Illustrated by Pelin Turgut

Inhabit Media

978-1-77227-475-2 

28 pages 

Ages 3-5

April 2024

Never has a rock been less of an insentient thing than in Ashley Qilavaq-Savard's I Am a Rock. For this child and his mother, this pet rock feels, sees, hears, and experiences all the seasons and life of an Arctic landscape, with or without its child by its side.

 

As a boy prepares for bed, a time open to great inquisition, Pauloosie asks his mother, "Anaana, what would it be like if rocks were alive?" as his adorable pet rock, Miki Rock, rests alongside him. With a playful voice and great wisdom, his mother answers him.

From I Am a Rock, written by Ashley Qilavaq-Savard, illustrated by Pelin Turgut

First, his mother tells of the rock watching as animals feed and make homes with the changing seasons. There are foxes and ptarmigan, belugas, and char. But there is more than just watching. There is also listening.

From chirps to howls to

beating hooves and squeaks,

I can hear them all.

From I Am a Rock, written by Ashley Qilavaq-Savard, illustrated by Pelin Turgut

And feeling? Miki Rock feels everything from the snow that blankets it to "the joy of the sun's warm kiss."

From I Am a Rock, written by Ashley Qilavaq-Savard, illustrated by Pelin Turgut

Finally, Miki Rock acknowledges that, though it can see, hear, and feel, it could not fly, run or walk until Pauloosie picked it up.

 

As I write this review, I hear Simon & Garfunkel's 1965 song with the same title but know their message is completely opposite to that of Ashley Qilavaq-Savard's book. While they sang of closing oneself off for protection, Ashley Qilavaq-Savard gives us a story of companionship and feeling that speaks to consciousness and awareness. Miki Rock is as sentient as we are. It may not be able to grow or to move (or can it?) but its appreciation for what goes on around it is evident. It senses warmth and cold and feels excitement and joy. It may be Pauloosie's Anaana who is giving that life to Miki Rock but, as a reader of I Am a Rock, I am convinced, as I'm sure Pauloosie is, that life exists within that rock.

 

If Ashley Qilavaq-Savard's words don't convince you, pair them with Turkish illustrator Pelin Turgut's artwork. Between Miki Rock's expressive face, which is limited to two specks for eyes and a crack for a smile, as well as orange lichen cheeks and a tuft of "hair" and landscapes of snowy mountains, frozen lakes, northern lights, and bright Arctic flora, Pelin Turgut gives us a rock that embraces its "life."

 

From I Am a Rock, written by Ashley Qilavaq-Savard, illustrated by Pelin Turgut

We may know logically that rocks don't feel anything but isn't fiction supposed to help us imagine different worlds and reach beyond the rational into something else? With the special companionship Pauloosie gets from Miki Rock, he already knows that a rock can be more than a fixed object. (A reading of I Am a Rock would be a fabulous lesson to teach the characteristics of living things.) Courtesy of his Anaana, Pauloosie now knows even more about his pet.

Una Huna?: Ukpik Learns to Sew

Written by Susan Aglukark

Illustrated by Amiel Sandland and Rebecca Brook

Inhabit Media

978-1-77227-433-2

36 pp.

Ages 5-7

June 2022

 

After Ukpik's father (ataata), uncle and cousin return from a hunting trip with five caribou, the child's mother enlists her help in preparing the furs for a special project. Though she doesn't know what the special project will be, Ukpik is delighted to be part of something that will include some beads (sunguajait) that her anaana had been saving.

From Una Huna?: Ukpik Learns to Sew by Susan Aglukark, illus. by Amiel Sandland and Rebecca Brook

First, Ukpik is told get the ulu her grandfather (ataatatsiaq) had made for her as she would help with the cleaning of the skins. She is instructed on how to remove incidental fat and how to be careful with the sharp tool. Later the skins are stretched out and pinned to the ground to dry.

From Una Huna?: Ukpik Learns to Sew by Susan Aglukark, illus. by Amiel Sandland and Rebecca Brook

 

As they wait for the skins to dry, Anaana allows Ukpik to work with the beads forming a pattern. After the skins are dry, Anaana teaches Ukpik how to soften the skins by tromping on them and also using a sakuut. 

For practise, Anaana cuts pieces according to a pattern for Ukpik and her friend Qopak to learn to sew mittens. When it becomes evident that the girls are becoming fatigued, Ukpik's anaana reminds her that:

You must begin your lessons now so you know how to do the right stitches for each pattern. The size and shape of the stitches matter, Ukpik, and to get these right, you must practise. (pg. 25)

From Una Huna?: Ukpik Learns to Sew by Susan Aglukark, illus. by Amiel Sandland and Rebecca Brook

It takes days of patience and meticulous work to prepare the skins so that they might be fashioned into clothing, and it's a skill that connects Ukpik and Anaana and others with their ancestors. Anaana and Ataata recognize that the world for Ukpik and her peers is changing (the earlier book Una Huna?: What is This? relates the introduction of new tools to the community from the south) but that skills like sewing and skin preparation are lines of kinship that will link them with their heritage forever.  

 

Author Susan Aglukark is perhaps best known as an award-winning Inuk singer-songwriter but her Una Huna? picture books take us to a northern Indigenous community in a different way, perhaps to see what growing up there might have been like for her. Una Huna?: Ukpik Learns to Sew reminds us that learning is happening constantly for children and especially for this Inuk child who wants to know and to discover all that she can. Una Huna? translates to "What is this?" and reflects Ukpik's inquisitive nature and desire to understand the nature of her people's ways of living while still being a kid who likes to play with her friends and puppy on the tundra. And, for most readers, Una Huna?: Ukpik Learns to Sew will be an introduction to traditional skills of the Inuit in addition to their language (a glossary with Inuktitut pronunciation guide is provided), making this picture book another culturally relevant book from Inhabit Media.

 

The illustrations by Amiel Sandland and Rebecca Brook are both playful and informative, striking the right balance for young readers who will learn but be entertained by the artwork. Amiel Sandland has always been astute at keeping the art simple enough for children to get the essentials of the details without overloading them with insignificant fluff. As such, the illustrations give us the starkness of the tundra and the straightforwardness of living as Inuit on the land while emphasizing an ancestry of significance.

 

Una Huna?: Ukpik Learns to Sew is an endearing recollection of the learning of traditional skills from a parent who is both patient, wise and loving.  It's about being at the crossroads of past and future, connecting to one's heritage but seeing what that might mean for later. It's a big story told skilfully with the essence of the Inuit at its core.

Little Moar and the Moon

Written by Roselynn Akulukjuk

Illustrated by Jazmine Gubbe

Inhabit Media

978-1-77227-299-4

28 pp.

Ages 4-7

October 2021

 

Unless you've lived in a far northern community, you can't imagine the impact of day length on daily activities, especially around the summer and winter equinoxes.  But for little Moar, the fall is particularly concerning with the earlier onset of the night after a summer of full days.

Like most kids after school, little Moar and his friends like to play. But little Moar is always wary of being out too late, cognizant of the ever-darkening sky. You see, while many children are afraid of the dark, little Moar is afraid of the moon.

Whenever he looked at the moon, he saw a face. The face looked like it was giving him a half-smile, and that scared him.

From Little Moar and the Moon by Roselynn Akulukjuk, illus. by Jazmine Gubbe

So with the sky getting a little darker, he says goodbye to his friends and heads home. But another group of friends invite him to play a game of tag and he decides he can sneak in a game before it's too late. However, having so much fun, he loses track of time and, seeing the sky even darker, decides he must head home right then.

From Little Moar and the Moon by Roselynn Akulukjuk, illus. by Jazmine Gubbe

But on the way home, he encounters his cousin feeding his uncle's ten sled dogs. When he asks for little Moar's help, the boy relents, wanting to be helpful. Still the darkness comes as it does and little Moar runs into his uncle's house for shelter. How will the little boy make it home safely if the moon is always watching him?

From Little Moar and the Moon by Roselynn Akulukjuk, illus. by Jazmine Gubbe

Roselynn Akulukjuk, who gave young readers The Owl and the Lemming (2016), again takes us into Nunavut, not for a legend but instead for a quintessential experience for children: dealing with the impact of day length. Many kids love to play outside after school and most don't stay outside so long that they have to worry about the impending darkness. But when the darkness comes early as it does in the far north, making it home before the sun has set is crucial, especially for young who might be fearful of the darkness. Still little Moar isn't afraid of the darkness as much as he's apprehensive about the moon and the face his imagination perceives in its contours. Many cultures have lore associated with the pareidolic image of a face in the moon so little Moar's fear of this entity is not atypical. Many see a pair of eyes and a mouth in that natural satellite. Thankfully Moar's mother can reassure him that what he's seeing are contours and shadows but will he believe her?

Darkness can be frightening but Jazmine Gubbe, an illustrator, concept artist and animator, gives a warmth to that twilight and dusk, using the softness of pinks, greens and purples to transition to rich darker blues of the night. Her colours evoke place and time, bringing us to a Nunavut community in the fall, cool in temperature and vibrant in its activity of play and people. 

Fears are fears, whether in the short days of Nunavut or an urban setting in southern Canada. But for little Moar, his fear is based in his natural environment, not created from frightening graphics on visual media or elsewhere. His fear may not dissipate immediately with the wise words of his mother–fears are unfailingly stubborn–but knowing that he could outplay the moon with some careful maneuvers will surely go a long way to putting that moon in its place, far, far away from Moar.

Kits, Cubs, and Calves: An Arctic Summer

Written by Suzie Napayok-Short

Illustrated by Tamara Campeau

Inhabit Media

978-1-77227-274-1

32 pp.

Ages 7-11

September 2020

I know summer is over and it has definitely passed in the far north but learning about other cultures and ecosystems, life cycles and food chains, is never out of season, and certainly not in schools so Kits, Cubs, and Calves: An Arctic Summer is undoubtedly a great read at any time of year.

From Kits, Cubs, and Calves: An Arctic Summer by Suzie Napayok-Short, illus. by Tamara Campeau

Akuluk, who lives south of the Arctic and had been spending time in Nunavut with her grandparents, has just arrived in Saattut to visit with her aunt and uncle. Even though it is summer, she is dressed warmly in her atigi, a duffle parka, when the northern float plane delivers her and her stuffed polar bear, Piulua. Even driving from the dock, Akuluk can see new life on the tundra in the form of fox kits playing and at the house, there are seven month-old puppies born to their sled dog Blackie. 

The next day, Akuluk's Aunt Sulie and Uncle James, along with Uncle Tommy, take her out on the boat to check out their summer camp grounds, now inhabited by polar bears. With a wealth of food, that includes dried Arctic char, palaugaaq bannock and aqpiit (a glossary of Inuktitut words explains these and more at the conclusion of the story), they begin their foray on the Arctic Ocean.

From Kits, Cubs, and Calves: An Arctic Summer by Suzie Napayok-Short, illus. by Tamara Campeau

Their sighting of a pod of creamy white beluga whales, including a grey calf, mesmerizes Akuluk, and even more so when they use a recording device to hear the mother's cooing, clicking, chattering and whistling sounds. Based on the Inuktitut word for small, mikilaaq, Akuluk names the baby Miki. But when another lone calf appears, they watch as the mother and the other whales check it out, perhaps to adopt the orphan.

From Kits, Cubs, and Calves: An Arctic Summer by Suzie Napayok-Short, illus. by Tamara Campeau

Finally they arrive near their old camp and see the polar bear and her cubs who'd previously found their fishing nets filled with char and now return annually. The family willingly gave up "their traditional land to help these large animals survive." (pg. 21) They place themselves between the bears on land and the whales and watch the bears eat their catch of seal meat, as seagulls, hopeful of remnants, look on.  Akuluk learns that normally the Arctic foxes would be following the bears, eating any meat left behind, but in the summer they have their kits and stay away from the nanuit (sing. nanuq) who would prey on the very young.

"Everywhere we go, Inuit and animals, we all have a need to stay close, so we can help one another," she says, putting an arm around Akuluk. "The wildlife do what they can to help one another, in their own way, and we do what we can in ours. We have to share our earth with all the wildlife that live here. We need to look after our land, and the plants in it, too." (pg. 29)

Suzie Napayok-Short who was born in Frobisher Bay and has lived on Baffin Island and Nunavut takes delight in Akuluk's visiting and learning, perhaps because these were her own experiences. Not only does Akuluk get to spend time with family and witness animal wonders in the Arctic, she learns of the traditional ways, piusituqait, and their importance in maintaining ecosystems. Author Suzie Napayok-Short embeds her storytelling, perhaps recounting, with a respectful gravitas, recognizing Akuluk's visit as pivotal for the young girl. 

From Kits, Cubs, and Calves: An Arctic Summer by Suzie Napayok-Short, illus. by Tamara Campeau

Illustrator Tamara Campeau who also illustrated The Muskox and the Caribou and In the Sky at Nighttime stays true to her artistic style of realism with a hint of the personal. She doesn't make her illustrations frivolous or silly; instead, the art depicts the true nature of the familial relationships and the wonder of the natural world. By blending the authentic with the deferential, Tamara Campeau dignifies Suzie Napayok-Short's story while giving it colour and shape.

Kits, Cubs, and Calves: An Arctic Summer goes beyond summer and gives a picture of life in Nunavut for its people, its animals and the land, and it's a great place to visit through Suzie Napayok-Short and Tamara Campeau's work.

In My Anaana's Amautik

Written by Nadia Sammurtok

Illustrated by Lenny Lishchenko

Inhabit Media

978-1-77227-252-9

24 pp.

Ages 3-7

September 2019

Love and security are often found with a person or a place but to find them together in both is extraordinary. In My Anaana's Amautik is about a child finding them both in the pouch at the back of its mother's parka.

From In My Anaana's Amautik by Nadia Sammurtok, illus. by Lenny Lishchenko

In its anaana's amautik, a child travels, sleeps and enjoys the closeness of being with its mother and experiencing its world of land, water and sky from a position of safety and intimacy. They feel the sun and compare it to the warmth of her skin, see the clouds and compare them to being swaddled, and are reminded of summertime flowers with her scent.

In my anaana's amautik, I feel safe. The protection of the hood around me is like my own tiny iglu. I love peeking out from inside my anaana's amautik. (pg. 11)

From In My Anaana's Amautik by Nadia Sammurtok, illus. by Lenny Lishchenko

The child likens everything about being in its anaana's amautik to those familiar attributes of its own Arctic environment: sun, clouds, flowers (like Arctic poppy, blueberry and dock), cottongrass, iglu, ocean, stream. But most importantly it's about home.

In my anaana's amautik, I feel loved. The gentleness of her movements reminds me of her hugs and her love for me. I love my anaana's amautik. (pg. 19)

While the earlier books of Nadia Sammurtok's which I reviewed (The Caterpillar Woman, 2016; Siuluk: The Last Tuniq, 2018) had a distinct ambiance of darkness and legend, In My Anaana's Amautik is all lightness and affection. While still based in the Inuit culture, Nadia Sammurtok's heritage, and the Arctic environment, In My Anaana's Amautik enfolds the readers in the experience familiar to the very young Inuit. It brings us into that amautik to feel the bond of mother and child and of the land.

From In My Anaana's Amautik by Nadia Sammurtok, illus. by Lenny Lishchenko

In a series of double-spread illustrations depicting only a child's head or hand, the only body parts that would ever be exposed from rest in an amautik, Lenny Lishchenko also focuses on the feeling, not the logistics. She makes the sun, or the clouds, the cottongrass or the water, all things with which the child analogizes their amautik experiences, the emphasis. In this way, the child is but a small part of everything but still part of it all.

In My Anaana's Amautik is an experiential picture book filled with the sensory reality of being close and safe and warm and loved. Oh, that every child could feel this.

The Pencil

Written by Susan Avingaq and Maren Vsetula

Illustrated by Charlene Chua

Inhabit Media

978-1-77227-216-1

36 pp.

Ages 5-7

April 2019

Maybe you think a pencil is just a pencil, a utensil that is easily replaced and should be thrown away when it becomes too difficult to manipulate. But, for Susan Avingaq whose story this is, a pencil is so much more.

From The Pencil by Susan Avingaq and Maren Vsetula, illus. by Charlene Chua

When Susan's mother leaves their iglu to help a neighbour with a birth, she and her sister Rebecca and brother Peter are left in the care of their father. Play for the children includes having a jumping contest, a game of hide-and-seek and the two older girls practising their letters on the frost surface of the ice window. But when Ataata pulls out the pencil from the special box of Anaana's things, everything changes.

From The Pencil by Susan Avingaq and Maren Vsetula, illus. by Charlene Chua

The pencil is already very short from Anaana's writing of letters to people in other camps, using whatever paper she might save including from tea boxes and sugar bags, but it is still gold.

Anaana always said that we needed to be very careful with the pencil and that it wasn't a toy.

Ataata also gives Susan a piece of paper and suggests she draw pictures for her brother. Though nervous, she draws seals and caribou and her family. Then Rebecca practises her writing, and Peter draws some scribbles and their father draws different inuksuit.  The pencil gets shorter and Ataata has to sharpen it with his knife.

When their mother returns and is somewhat taken aback by their use of her pencil, she still cheers their efforts and is pleased that they'd had a good day.

From The Pencil by Susan Avingaq and Maren Vsetula, illus. by Charlene Chua

Susan Avingaq's reminiscence of that special day with a pencil is so charming. The children's reverence for that pencil is absolutely palpable. They know how important it is to their mother and that it is not a trifle. With every stroke of that pencil, they showed knowledge of their culture and respect for Anaana and her need to be frugal.  Together Susan Avingaq and Maren Vsetula, who'd first collaborated on Fishing with Grandma (Inhabit Media, 2016) which was also illustrated by Charlene Chua, bring Inuit life on the land into a meaningful but genuine depiction in The Pencil. I have no doubts that Susan and her family, like many, had to be resourceful and careful with what they had and how it was used but The Pencil goes beyond a lesson in frugality and becomes a story of family, of play and of culture, which many children will appreciate. Charlene Chua, whose art has enhanced the stories of Akilak's Adventure (2016) and Elisapee and Her Baby Seagull (2017) among others, always finds a way to illustrate the love of family and the cultural wisdom of the storytellers.  Children will see the delight in Charlene Chua's characters when the pencil is brought out, when their father pretends to be a polar bear and the children's regret when their mother reminds them about using the pencil.

 "You know the reason we have to use our things very wisely is because they are quite difficult to get. We have only one pencil right now, and we won't be able to get another until we return to the trading post," she said.

A pencil may only be a pencil to many people, but it's an opening to a new world of connection to Susan and her family and deserving of being treasured.

From The Pencil by Susan Avingaq and Maren Vsetula, illus. by Charlene Chua

Takannaaluk

Written by Herve Paniaq

Illustrated by Germaine Arnaktauyok

Inhabit Media

978–1-77227-181-2

32 pp.

Ages 5-9

November 2018

In another outstanding Inuit origin story picture book from Inhabit Media, Igloolik elder Herve Paniaq tells the haunting tale of the mythological mother of the sea mammals, Takannaaluk, also known as Nuliajuk and Kannaaluk.

From Takannaaluk by Herve Paniaq, illus. by Germaine Arnaktauyok

Though her parents wish her to marry so there would be another man around to help out, their only daughter refuses all those who ask her and so she is called Uinigumasuittuq, the one who never wanted to marry. Men appear, though they are animals such as the caribou and the bearded seal transformed into persons, and she refuses them all. When a very tall and handsome man, seated in his qajaq and wearing snow goggles, calls to her, she goes with him. It's not until much later in their journey that she sees he has been sitting on a stool and his legs are very, very short and he has scary red eyes. She realizes she has been tricked as he is a fulmar, a type of seabird, transformed into a man but he refuses to let her go back to her parents. Uinigumasuittuq has no choice but to go with the man and learn how to be his wife.

From Takannaaluk by Herve Paniaq, illus. by Germaine Arnaktauyok

But then her father, who'd been so adamant about marrying his daughter off, decides to bring her back home and away from her horrible husband. When the husband pursues them, Uinigumasuittu's father ridicules his son-in-law who transforms into a fulmar, flying in such a way to cause the winds to pick up. Her angry father throws Uinigumasuittuq into the water and, as she clings to the side of his boat, he chops at her fingers with his knife. Where her fingers fall, seals appear.

From Takannaaluk by Herve Paniaq, illus. by Germaine Arnaktauyok

Her father, guilt-ridden at his actions, kills himself by drowning in the encroaching tides and Uinigumasuittuq, lost to the water, becomes known as Takannaaluk which means "the one down there" and becomes feared and revered as the legendary mother of the sea animals.

Herve Paniaq's retelling of this Inuit myth has the richness of great storytelling. There are villains and victims, choices and consequences, conflict and resolution. But this origin story becomes extraordinary with the illustrations by Germaine Arnaktauyok. I have always believed picture book illustrations are works of art but Germaine Arnaktauyok's images should be in art galleries. They are gorgeous, rich in colour and shape, culturally relevant and wholly appropriate for a story from the Arctic, making Takannaaluk bewitching as well as edifying.

Siuluk: The Last Tuniq

Written by Nadia Sammurtok

Illustrated by Rob Nix

Inhabit Media

978-1-77227-178-2

28 pp.

Ages 5-8

April 2018

The Inuit stories about the Tuniit are of a legendary people akin to friendly giants.  They were considered to be immensely strong, massive in size and gentle in demeanour. It was not surprising then that Siuluk, a very large man of considerable strength who lived quietly by himself, should be considered the last Tuniq by his Inuit neighbours. 

From Siuluk: The Last Tuniq by Nadia Sammurtok, illus. by Rob Nix

When several of the Inuit men taunt Siuluk about his size and strength, he knows they are being mean but he responds with a challenge for them to lift a sheet of rock.  Of course, none can lift the massive rock except Siuluk who lifts it with ease and leaves his legacy in a message he carves into the stone.

From Siuluk: The Last Tuniq by Nadia Sammurtok, illus. by Rob Nix

Though you can read about the Tuniit in Rachel and Sean Qitsualik-Tinsley’s Tuniit: Mysterious Folk of the Arctic (Inhabit Media, 2015) and in How Things Came To Be: Inuit Stories of Creation (Inhabit Media, 2015),  Siuluk: The Last Tuniq takes a different perspective on the Tuniit.  Nadia Sammurtok tells a very simple story about teasing and differences in which a man finds a straightforward but elegant response to dismiss his intimidators.  So while children will learn about Siuluk and his status as the last Tuniq, they will also learn that anyone can be ill-treated by others and still  handle that treatment with self-possession and poise.  Siuluk, who is given graphic life by American illustrator Rob Nix, could have hurt the men who teased him about his size and strength but instead he demonstrated his brawn in a quiet but impactful manner, and even left a message for generations to come.

From Siuluk: The Last Tuniq by Nadia Sammurtok, illus. by Rob Nix

The best part of this story is revealed in Nadia Sammurtok’s afterword in which she reveals that her father had been told as a child a story about a man purported to be the last of the Tuniit who'd allegedly lived close to Chesterfield Inlet in Nunavut.  In fact, there’s a photo of her father, Tom Sammurtok, with Siuluk’s rock.  So it seems that Siuluk: The Last Tuniq, which is also available in Inuktitut, may be a traditional story about the last remaining Tuniq from the oldest community in Nunavut but it’s all the more special for the evidence of its veracity and the life lessons it encompasses.

Kisimi Taimaippaktut Angirrarijarani / ᑭᓯᒥ ᑕᐃᒪᐃᑉᐸᒃᑐᑦ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᕆᔭᕋᓂ / Only in My Hometown

Written by Angnakuluk Friesen

Illustrated by Ippiksaut Friesen

Translated by Jean Kusugak

Groundwood Books

978-1-55498-883-9

24 pp.

Ages 3-7

September 2017

Just as all families are different and children should see themselves in the families represented in youngCanLit, the communities in which those children are growing up are vastly distinct.  Some are close-knit and small, others heavily populated and expansive, and still others remote with scattered populations.  By bringing their hometown to picture book format, Nunavut sisters Angnakuluk Friesen and Ippiksaut Friesen transport young readers to a community in which elephants are mining artefacts, raw meat is feasted upon and everyone is welcome.

In her text, Angnakuluk Friesen gives us visual snippets of life in her hometown of Rankin Inlet, an Inuit community on Kudlulik Peninsula in Nunavut.  Its history may include the Thule people and mining but Angnakuluk Friesen spotlights the personal life of children in Kisimi Taimaippaktut Angirrarijarani / Only in My Hometown.  It's about play and food, chores and the outdoors.  There's snow-shovelling, story-telling, watching Northern Lights and banding together during hard times and times of joy.  But Angnakuluk Friesen tells it without telling it directly.  It's all in the subtext of her words. 

Stories, images, memories

of spirits,playing happily, fluidly, chanting.

The Northern Lights can be seen in many places,

but they dance for me

only in my hometown.

Where I come from

glimpses of hope are always appreciated.

From Kisimi Taimaippaktut Angirrarijarani / 

ᑭᓯᒥ ᑕᐃᒪᐃᑉᐸᒃᑐᑦ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᕆᔭᕋᓂ / 

Only in My Hometown 

by Argnakuluk Friesen 

illus. by Ippiksaut Friesen

Similarly, her sister Ippiksaut Friesen illustrates each memory and experience with a focus on the personal.  It's the girl atop the abandoned mining equipment, the children amidst the laundry and scattered toys, a pair watching the Northern Lights, the family at their winter camp and a gathering around a newborn.  It's their life as they see it and experience it in all its wonder and hardships and fellowship.  Her illustrations are actually of two different styles.  One, as seen on the cover, is reminiscent of William Kurelek's classic A Prairie Boy's Winter (Tundra, 1973) of a life so vast in time and space that must be filtered down to just a few poignant moments that define it. These are all-embracing images.  But Ippiksaut Friesen also goes up close and personal, getting right into the faces, concentrating on the expressions of life rather than the landscapes of their hometown.  Both blend to illustrate the life that is Kisimi Taimaippaktut Angirrarijarani / ᑭᓯᒥ ᑕᐃᒪᐃᑉᐸᒃᑐᑦ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᕆᔭᕋᓂ / Only in My Hometown. 

From Kisimi Taimaippaktut Angirrarijarani / 

ᑭᓯᒥ ᑕᐃᒪᐃᑉᐸᒃᑐᑦ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᕆᔭᕋᓂ / 

Only in My Hometown 

by Argnakuluk Friesen 

illus. by Ippiksaut Friesen

Translated into Inuktitut by Jean Kusugak and written out both in syllabics and transliterated roman characters,  Kisimi Taimaippaktut Angirrarijarani / ᑭᓯᒥ ᑕᐃᒪᐃᑉᐸᒃᑐᑦ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᕆᔭᕋᓂ / Only in My Hometown tells both all and only some of what life in a small northern town can be for an Inuit child.  It is a book to share with children who need to see themselves in the book or learn about others.  In other words, it's a book for all.

From Kisimi Taimaippaktut Angirrarijarani / 

ᑭᓯᒥ ᑕᐃᒪᐃᑉᐸᒃᑐᑦ ᐊᖏᕐᕋᕆᔭᕋᓂ / 

Only in My Hometown 

by Angnakuluk Friesen 

illus. by Ippiksaut Friesen