Sukaq and the Raven

by Roy Goose and Kerry McCluskey

Artwork by Soyeon Kim

Inhabit Media

978-1-77227-139-3

36 pp.

Ages 5-7

October 2017

Little Sukaq who lives in Apex, Nunavut is sweet and fast and loves hearing stories from his anaana as he drifts off to sleep.  His favourite story is an Inuit tale of the raven creating the universe.

From Sukaq and the Raven 

by Roy Goose and Kerry McCluskey 

illus. by Soyeon Kim

In the best of storytelling traditions, his anaana (mother) tells him that she'd "heard from a friend of mine, who heard it from his grandmother, who also heard it from someone else. This story is very, very old." (pg. 7)  As she tells him of the biggest raven that ever existed, Sukaq closes his eyes and imagines himself on the back of the raven, flying through the night sky.  As the raven glides through the cold sky, snow gathering on his wings, he flings a giant snowball off and creates a place upon which he can rest. And so Earth is made.

From Sukaq and the Raven 

by Roy Goose and Kerry McCluskey

 illus. by Soyeon Kim

Then the raven, seeking light, pecks at the ground whereupon a plant begins to grow. From this plant, the raven grabs something bright and tosses it into the air for warmth and light.  When that sun sets, the raven wants light in the dark so he pecks at the ground again and from a new emerging plant derives a shiny object which, when flung into the sky, becomes the moon.

Finally, the raven seeks a partner. Pecking at the ground one last time, he reveals a new plant emerging with a woman inside. But before he can be a true partner, he must transform from raven to man in blue parka, expertly depicted by artist Soyeon Kim.

Inuit storyteller Roy Goose shared this story with writer Kerry McCluskey when she researched her first book Tulugaq: An Oral History of Ravens (Inhabit Media, 2013) and now the story has new wings to share with others beyond the Arctic. By telling an origin story with a little boy dreaming of accompanying the giant raven as it creates the universe brings the story from legend to something more personal and even bigger.  But it's Soyeon Kim's dioramic illustrations that propel Sukaq and the Raven into even greater depths of storytelling.  Though the art may appear to be collages, Soyeon Kim actually crafts three-dimensional dioramas of scenes for the picture books she illustrates.  You can appreciate the true complexity of her dioramas on her website www.kimsoyeonart.com.  From Sukaq's home landscape of northern lights, colourful houses and flying ravens to the cold of a dark sky and the emerging plants that bring forth elements of the universe, Soyeon Kim breathes life into the story, taking it from just text to a full-bodied story as might have been heard from Roy Goose himself.

From Sukaq and the Raven 

by Roy Goose and Kerry McCluskey 

illus. by Soyeon Kim

Way Back Then

by Neil Christopher

Illustrated by Germaine Arnaktauyok

Inhabit Media

978-1-77227-021-1

40 pp.

Ages 3-5

November 2015

Inhabit Media, an Inuit-owned publishing company that “aims to promote and preserve the stories, knowledge and spirit of northern Canada”, produces wonderful picture books many of which CanLit for LittleCanadians has had the pleasure of reviewing, including Games of Survival, Grandmother Ptarmigan, The Blind Boy and the Loon, The Legend of Lightning and Thunder, Lesson for the Wolf, Painted Skies, Sweetest Kulu, Kamik An Inuit Puppy Story, and Tuniit: Mysterious Folk of the Arctic.  Way Back Then continues that tradition by focusing on the Inuit oral tradition of a father, Kudlu, who begins to tell his sweet children, his “kuluit”, stories his grandparents told him about what things were like long ago.

There is the origin story of night and day, based on a fox who wanted darkness so that it could steal from others, and the one of how sea mammals arose from a woman tricked into marryng a bird spirit.  The myths about the origins of the caribou that fill the North and how the land populated itself with babies that were adoped by people of the North are also shared with Kudlu’s children.  And then there are the tales of magical igluit (pl. of iglu) that could travel through the air and of the nanurluk, the giant polar bear, which could be so large as to be mistaken for icebergs (see illustration below).

The stories, however, are short and not always complete, as Kudlu whispers to his sleeping children that “…when I was a child, I always fell asleep before my grandparents got to the end of each story, and I never heard the endings.” (pg. 33) Regardless, these stories are born of a time of magic and a place wholly arctic and lovingly illustrated by Inuit artist Germaine Arnaktauyok.  Germaine Arnaktauyok's illustrations, drawn meticulously with pen and coloured pencils, have a somewhat pointilistic flavour to them because of the visible dotting.  Yet, the artwork is easily identifiable (unlike much pointilism) and has an essence of ethereal realism to it, easily complementing the magic and natural world of Neil Christopher's stories and text.

Way Back Then may be short, incomplete myths told within the context of a bedtime story, but it is a larger-than-life (much like the lemming and giant polar bear within) story that celebrates oral storytelling, both in Inuktitut and English here, that will provide parents and educators with the seeds for expanding that storytelling practice to a new generation.

The Blind Boy and the Loon

by Alethea Arnaquq-Baril

Illustrated by Alethea Arnaquq-Baril and Daniel Gies

Inhabit Media

978-1-927095-57-7

48 pp.

Ages 6-10

2014

Alethea Arnaquq-Baril makes it clear from her preface that the story of The Blind Boy and the Loon, first developed into her film Lumaajuuq (National Film Board of Canada, 2010), is both just a small part of an epic story told by her Inuit elders and simply her version, with its mistakes and omissions, "which our elders would never have committed." (pg. 3) Honouring their telling of the story, Alethea Arnaquq-Baril has compressed it into just a few minutes of film and a mere 48 pages of impressive text and illustration to tell a story of cruelty and revenge and the origin of the narwhal.

Living with his sister and mother in the far north, a blind boy endures his mother's resentment and cruelty. With the return of spring, he gets his sister to lead him to the lake to visit with the loon, a creature with formidable eyesight.  In addition to learning that his mother was responsible for causing his blindness, the boy regains his eyesight after repeated divings into the lake on the loon's back. Fully-sighted again, the boy resumes whale-hunting and uses an outing to exact revenge on his mother, whose plunge into the water turns her into the narwhal, her braids twisted into its characteristic tusk.

The dark tale within The Blind Boy and the Loon is nurtured by the highly-stylized elements of the illustrations, from the simple lines of the boy in his parka, to the hills and waters of the harsh landscape. Using shades and tones of greys, dark teal and taupe,  The Blind Boy and the Loon is rich with uncompromising elements of unkindness, deep waters, and expansive tundra, all essential in supporting the story within.  While Alethea Arnaquq-Baril may undervalue the content or interpretation of her telling of this origin tale, The Blind Boy and the Loon is an accomplished and breath-taking rendition.

If you want to see the animation of the stunning beauty that is The Blind Boy and the Loon, sneak a look at the original short film Lumaajuuq (National Film Board of Canada, 2010) upon which the picture book is based.  You will not be disappointed, but rather stunned by the starkness of its richness.

The Legend of Lightning and Thunder

by Paula Ikuutaq Rumbolt

Illustrated by Jo Rioux

Inhabit Media

978-1-927095-7

40 pp.

Ages 6-8

2013

Taking a story that is typically told orally and transforming it into a text can be difficult but also disastrous.  The oral storytelling tradition relies heavily on the storyteller's craft: of rhythm, intonation, pacing and dramatic effects, all with the aim of interacting with the audience.  Attempting to harness those key features in text, without making that text cumbersome or awkward, and still retain the essence of the story, is a craft in itself.  Paula Ikuutaq Rumbolt, whose bio indicates she is from Baker Lake, Nunavut, has obviously learned well from her grandmother and other elders in her community, but she has demonstrated a strong skill in putting her traditions to paper, penning a strong and accessible origin story with a twist here in The Legend of Lightning and Thunder.

During a festival when Inuit from far and wide come together to celebrate the beginning of spring, an orphaned brother and sister are turned away.  Secretly the two children steal some caribou meat and hide away to consume it.  When finished and still hungry, the two search through the belongings of visitors, looking for more food.  When they find no food, they try to distract themselves with play.  The sister finds a dry caribou skin which she waves in the air and bangs with her hand, while her younger brother uses a rock and a piece of flint found near a tent to create sparks and hopefully fire.  But when the night begins to fall, the children find a way to hide, convinced that they will be punished for their thefts.

Although the story explains how the two orphans ran away to hide in the sky and thus create thunder and lightning whenever they are bored or lonely and in need of play, the culminating message is far more broad.

"So, you see, because two orphaned children were neglected and ignored, we now have lightning and thunder in the world." (pg. 33)

I could hardly begin to understand the depth of the Inuit mythology which The Legend of Lightning and Thunder reveals but the clarity and richness of Paula Ikuutaq Rumbolt's story easily and eloquently tells the legend.  Jo Rioux's illustrations, in blacks and grays, with the tints and shades of oranges and browns, and few inclusions of blue or red, match the desperation of the children's situation and the actions they choose to take.  Though generally an illustrator of graphic novels, Jo Rioux's drawings capture the spiritual and supernatural elements of the story well, and I look forward to enjoying her artwork in more youngCanLit.  In fact, pairing Paula Ikuutaq Rumbolt and Jo Rioux again to bring more Inuit stories to book form would be a promising endeavour and an enriching one for all young readers.

Grandmother Ptarmigan

by Qaunaq Mikkigak and Joanne Schwartz

Illustrated by Qin Leng

Inhabit Media

978-1-927095-52-2

24 pp.

Ages 0-4

2013

While a grandmother ptarmigan seeks to get a little one to sleep, Grandmother Ptarmigan is actually a traditional Inuit origin tale that explains why ptarmigans cry, "Nauk, Nauk" and why baby ptarmigans fly so young.

Just as many human parents try a variety of strategies to help their young ones go to sleep, a little ptarmigan's grandma sings to him, tells him to close his eyes, and tucks him in, but he continues to demand a story.  Well, she tells him a story, obviously a little more feather-raising than she intended, though it does end with affectionate tickles. Unfortunately, the little ptarmigan is so frightened that his reaction is to fly away, much to the distress of his grandmother.

Qaunaq Mikkigak, an elder from Cape Dorset, Nunavut, shares a traditional Inuit origin tale in Grandmother Ptarmigan, written in collaboration with children's author Joanne Schwartz.   I applaud the successful efforts of these authors in divulging an origin tale from the Aboriginal Peoples of our own continent.  In addition to reaffirming the Inuit culture for young people, Grandmother Ptarmigan reminds us that origin tales do not all stem from Africa or lands with which youngCanLit readers are unfamiliar.  Along with Qin Leng's deceptively simple but effective illustrations, Qaunaq Mikkigak and Joanne Schwartz bring the origin tale to roost appropriately amidst the rich stories told by the Aboriginal Peoples of North America, here courtesy of Inhabit Media. Thank you.