A Fight in the Dark
The book kicks off with a bang. A fight in a darkened parking lot of a bar between one person who and one person who is not the target of America’s laissez faire attitude toward overconsumption of alcohol. One would think this would not be a quite fair unfair fight, but things start off badly for the liquor-free reflexes and cognitive system:
"Reeling, dizzy, I tried to puzzle out a strategy, but my mind was like an iceberg, slowly bobbing in the waters.”
Emergency-Ready
Ever wonder how ready you are to be prepared to act in a life and death emergency should fate call your hand? Now add to the situation an emergency about which you know little in the way of how to respond. For instance, what if you found yourself watching someone in the throes of a potentially fatal heroin overdose. Even the hardiest of souls might temporarily waver:
“I let the phone drop to the floor. Black clouds entered the room, taking up all the oxygen, all of the air. I couldn’t breathe, so I let the darkness envelop my lungs, my skin, my body.”
Grief
The first-person narrator is not one of those who tend to indulge in philosophical contemplations, but he is also not averse to it. It depends upon the subject and how close it hits to home. The subject of grief and mourning hits very close:
“When Sybil died, everyone said that the grief would get better over time, but that hadn’t happened. What I’d discovered was that sadness is like an abandoned car left out in a field for good—it changes a little over the years, but doesn’t ever disappear. You may forget about it for a while, but it’s still there, rusting away, until you notice it again.”
Befoulment Among Birds
The narrator’s father, on the other hand, was apparently a rather philosophical type. At least on the subject of not befouling one’s own habitat. Metaphor is furnished to provide underscore the cautionary advisory:
“Don’t be a magpie, my father told me, the magpie is the only bird that fouls its own nest.”
Redskins, Braves and Indian Chiefs
White America may finally just be getting around to actually implementing symbolic action to make up for the systemic prejudices against Native Americans, but it is going to take a long time for the psychological damage inflicted against them to be addressed. Imagine living your whole life growing up with the knowledge of criminal actions perpetrated against your ancestors amid the loss of hope it would ever be admitted much less addressed:
“We didn’t know we were supposedly drunks or lazy or savages. I wondered what it was like to live without that weight on your shoulders, the weight of the murdered ancestors, the stolen land, the abused children, the burden every Native person carries.”
