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Wandering Stars
The eagerly awaited follow-up to Pulitzer Prize-finalist Tommy Orange’s breakout best seller There There —winner of the PEN/Hemingway Award, the John Leonard Prize, the American Book Award, and one of the New York Times 10 Best Books of 2018— Wandering Stars traces the legacies of the Sand Creek Massacre of 1864 and the Carlisle Indian Industrial School through to the shattering aftermath of Orvil Red Feather’s shooting in There There.
Colorado, 1864. Star, a young survivor of the Sand Creek Massacre, is brought to the Fort Marion Prison Castle, where he is forced to learn English and practice Christianity by Richard Henry Pratt, an evangelical prison guard who will go on to found the Carlisle Indian Industrial School, an institution dedicated to the eradication of Native history, culture, and identity. A generation later, Star’s son, Charles, is sent to the school, where he is brutalized by the man who was once his father’s jailer. Under Pratt’s harsh treatment, Charles clings to moments he shares with a young fellow student, Opal Viola, as the two envision a future away from the institutional violence that follows their bloodlines.
Oakland, 2018. Opal Viola Victoria Bear Shield is barely holding her family together after the shooting that nearly took the life of her nephew Orvil. From the moment he awakens in his hospital bed, Orvil begins compulsively googling school shootings on YouTube. He also becomes emotionally reliant on the prescription medications meant to ease his physical trauma. His younger brother, Lony, suffering from PTSD, is struggling to make sense of the carnage he witnessed at the shooting by secretly cutting himself and enacting blood rituals that he hopes will connect him to his Cheyenne heritage. Opal is equally adrift, experimenting with Ceremony and peyote, searching for a way to heal her wounded family.
Extending his constellation of narratives into the past and future, Tommy Orange once again delivers a story that is by turns shattering and wondrous, a book piercing in its poetry, sorrow, and rage—a masterful follow-up to his already-classic first novel, and a devastating indictment of America’s war on its own people.
Colorado, 1864. Star, a young survivor of the Sand Creek Massacre, is brought to the Fort Marion Prison Castle, where he is forced to learn English and practice Christianity by Richard Henry Pratt, an evangelical prison guard who will go on to found the Carlisle Indian Industrial School, an institution dedicated to the eradication of Native history, culture, and identity. A generation later, Star’s son, Charles, is sent to the school, where he is brutalized by the man who was once his father’s jailer. Under Pratt’s harsh treatment, Charles clings to moments he shares with a young fellow student, Opal Viola, as the two envision a future away from the institutional violence that follows their bloodlines.
Oakland, 2018. Opal Viola Victoria Bear Shield is barely holding her family together after the shooting that nearly took the life of her nephew Orvil. From the moment he awakens in his hospital bed, Orvil begins compulsively googling school shootings on YouTube. He also becomes emotionally reliant on the prescription medications meant to ease his physical trauma. His younger brother, Lony, suffering from PTSD, is struggling to make sense of the carnage he witnessed at the shooting by secretly cutting himself and enacting blood rituals that he hopes will connect him to his Cheyenne heritage. Opal is equally adrift, experimenting with Ceremony and peyote, searching for a way to heal her wounded family.
Extending his constellation of narratives into the past and future, Tommy Orange once again delivers a story that is by turns shattering and wondrous, a book piercing in its poetry, sorrow, and rage—a masterful follow-up to his already-classic first novel, and a devastating indictment of America’s war on its own people.
315 pages, Hardcover
First published February 27, 2024
About the author
Tommy Orange
18 books4,088 followersTommy Orange is a recent graduate from the MFA program at the Institute of American Indian Arts. He is a 2014 MacDowell Fellow, and a 2016 Writing by Writers Fellow. He is an enrolled member of the Cheyenne and Arapaho Tribes of Oklahoma. He was born and raised in Oakland, California, and currently lives in Angels Camp, California.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 2,400 reviews
March 29, 2024
Orange has such a unique narrative voice and it is on full display in his sophomore novel. Wandering Stars is sprawling and polyphonic and original. It is a prequel and sequel to There, There, sure, but it's also a book that stands on its own. A lot to admire here. And I can't wait to see what Orange does next.
April 24, 2024
‘History is like a horror story,’ wrote Roberto Bolaño and Tommy Orange chronicles the long history of ‘America's war on its own people’ in Wandering Stars. Moving through the horrors of the past across generations of violence, genocide and institutional or social erasures and on into a present day of lingering traumas and addictions, Wandering Stars works something like a Godfather Pt 2 to his 2018 novel, There There, being simultaneously a sequel and prequel to the events of that book. We last encountered Orvil Red Feather as yet another victim to gun violence in the final pages of There, There, though this story on the legacy that brought his bloodline to that moment of bloodshed as well as the volatile recovery in the aftermath could just as easily be read as a stand-alone. Still, it was delightful to revisit familiar characters as well as many new ones, each with an impressively distinct voice in a narrative propelled by Orange’s extraordinary acrobatic use of language. Wandering Stars is a sharp critique on a bloodsoaked American history, tracing trauma from colonization and forced assimilation into addictions and fractured histories, though there is still a light and a heavy hope ‘making this place more than its accumulated pain.’
‘Surviving wasn't enough. To endure or pass through endurance test after endurance test only ever gave you endurance test passing abilities. Simply lasting was great for a wall, for a fortress, but not for a person.’
Where There, There was caught in a breakneck inertia spiraling towards impending disaster, Wandering Stars does a lot of, well, wandering. We move across history through the many generations of the Red Feather family, taking us from the Sand Creek massacre and into the Carlisle Indian Industrial School forced assimilation programs or prisons. This is juxtaposed with a narrative set in the present following Orvil and several other familiar characters. It meanders but never flails, stepping in wide rings of time, sending its prose to swoop and soar, until finally you find a rhythm moving underneath it all and the narrative becomes a sort of dance. A celebration amidst the sadness, a tribute to the past and a plea for the future.
‘Stories do more than comfort. They take you away and bring you back better made.’
While this is a larger story made up of the amalgamation of multiple stories, this is also—in many ways—a story about stories and why they matter. Charles’ notes that his incomplete memories are nothing more than ‘a broken mirror, through which he only ever sees himself in pieces,’ which nudges a central theme on how we use histories or stories as ways to understand our pasts and ourselves. A boy asks ‘why there weren’t any Native American superheroes,’ or a woman in midcentury America is told by a librarian there doesn’t seem to be any books written by indigenous authors. Instead they must see the world through the narratives of people who look like the ‘very kind of men some of us had seen wipe our people out.’ It’s why publishers need to ensure inclusive collections, its why we should make space for more voices lest we choke off storytelling as another form of silencing. That the character Jude witness so many atrocities but is mute and unable to vocalize them is a powerful metaphor, especially juxtaposed with the personal memoirs Charles is able to leave behind. Language and writing become a haven, and it is in learning to read and copy the Bible that we find the titular wandering star of the novel:
‘Raging waves of the sea, foaming out their own shame; wandering stars, to whom is reserved the blackness of darkness forever.’
That Orange is a superb storyteller makes it all the better. Orange has a dynamic range of voice, moving between characters as well as from fiction to nonfiction passages. Orange has often cited influences in authors like Roberto Bolaño, Clarice Lispector, Jorge Luis Borges, or Javier Marías because they are ‘ not afraid to be really cerebral but also somehow have excellent pacing at same time,’ though many of the passages in Stars feels closer to the mechanics of one of his other favorites: José Saramago. Such as this passage which meticulously weaves languages while winding its way through the halls of history:
He is speaking of the horrors faced by thousands of indigenous children in boarding school programs that ran under the slogan ‘Kill the Indian, Save the Man’ in an attempt to push ‘the vanishing race off into final captivity before disappearing into history forever.’ This is why survival becomes so key in the novel, though merely surviving is often not enough. Often survival is its own trade off with destruction, such as how the granting of citizenship and assimilation was an effort to dissolve—'a kind of chemical word for a gradual death of tribes and Indians, a clinical killing, designed by psychopaths calling themselves politicians'—the tribes and erase tribal identity. The Termination policies enacted in 1953 forced full citizenship as a way to end federal recognition of tribes and transfer reservation legal jurisdiction over to the federal government, all despite indigenous peoples already being granted citizenship in 1924. As is often the case, language becomes a mask for cruelty.
‘I think I needed to feel the bottom to know how to rise. Maybe we're all looking for our bottoms and tops in search of balance, where the loop feels just right, and like it's not just rote, not just repetition, but a beautiful echo, one so entrenching we lose ourselves in it.’
The novel is wracked with scenes of addiction, poverty and heartbreak but also the dilemma of a disconnect with the past. A large theme of There, There touched on how indigenous identity was often difficult to pin down in the modern world, a theme that continues here. While there is the recognition that ‘no Indians from when they first named us Indians would recognize us as Indians now,’ even Orvil admits that in the present day many of the historical indigenous practices they keep alive ‘can feel corny, and fake, or like trying too hard for something that wasn’t really there.’ Times change, identity shifts, and how can one feel the pulse of the past when the nation spent so much effort and violence into erasing their stories. Though this is not necessarily a complete loss as the novel notes that change is natural and life flows into life, such as the family lineage going from Stars to Bear Shields and eventually Red Feathers. The family marches forward through time even when beleaguered by external aggressions or internal struggles.
Ultimately, Wandering Stars captures ‘the kind of love that survives surviving.’ It is the thing that keeps us going, the heavy hope we are willing to carry. This is an ambitious novel, a bit quieter and looser than its predecessor, and it seeks to capture the truly expansive ideas and questions on identity and history. While perhaps it overreaches at times and can occasionally feel like checking as many boxes of themes as possible instead of thoroughly exploring a tighter few, Orange manages to carry his ideas into fruition and craft an engaging novel that achieves its goals.
4.5/5
'Everything about your life will feel impossible. And you being or becoming an Indian will feel the same. Nevertheless you will be an Indian and an American and a woman and a human wanting to belong to what being human means.'
‘Surviving wasn't enough. To endure or pass through endurance test after endurance test only ever gave you endurance test passing abilities. Simply lasting was great for a wall, for a fortress, but not for a person.’
Where There, There was caught in a breakneck inertia spiraling towards impending disaster, Wandering Stars does a lot of, well, wandering. We move across history through the many generations of the Red Feather family, taking us from the Sand Creek massacre and into the Carlisle Indian Industrial School forced assimilation programs or prisons. This is juxtaposed with a narrative set in the present following Orvil and several other familiar characters. It meanders but never flails, stepping in wide rings of time, sending its prose to swoop and soar, until finally you find a rhythm moving underneath it all and the narrative becomes a sort of dance. A celebration amidst the sadness, a tribute to the past and a plea for the future.
‘Stories do more than comfort. They take you away and bring you back better made.’
While this is a larger story made up of the amalgamation of multiple stories, this is also—in many ways—a story about stories and why they matter. Charles’ notes that his incomplete memories are nothing more than ‘a broken mirror, through which he only ever sees himself in pieces,’ which nudges a central theme on how we use histories or stories as ways to understand our pasts and ourselves. A boy asks ‘why there weren’t any Native American superheroes,’ or a woman in midcentury America is told by a librarian there doesn’t seem to be any books written by indigenous authors. Instead they must see the world through the narratives of people who look like the ‘very kind of men some of us had seen wipe our people out.’ It’s why publishers need to ensure inclusive collections, its why we should make space for more voices lest we choke off storytelling as another form of silencing. That the character Jude witness so many atrocities but is mute and unable to vocalize them is a powerful metaphor, especially juxtaposed with the personal memoirs Charles is able to leave behind. Language and writing become a haven, and it is in learning to read and copy the Bible that we find the titular wandering star of the novel:
‘Raging waves of the sea, foaming out their own shame; wandering stars, to whom is reserved the blackness of darkness forever.’
That Orange is a superb storyteller makes it all the better. Orange has a dynamic range of voice, moving between characters as well as from fiction to nonfiction passages. Orange has often cited influences in authors like Roberto Bolaño, Clarice Lispector, Jorge Luis Borges, or Javier Marías because they are ‘ not afraid to be really cerebral but also somehow have excellent pacing at same time,’ though many of the passages in Stars feels closer to the mechanics of one of his other favorites: José Saramago. Such as this passage which meticulously weaves languages while winding its way through the halls of history:
‘When the Indian Wars began to go cold, the theft of land and tribal sovereignty bureaucratic, they came for Indian children, forcing them into boarding schools, where if they did not die of what they called consumption even while they regularly were starved; if they were not buried in duty, training for agricultural or industrial labor, or indentured servitude; were they not buried in children’s cemeteries, or in unmarked graves, not lost somewhere between the school and home having run away, unburied, unfound, lost to time, or lost between exile and refuge, between school, tribal homelands, reservation, and city; if they made it through routine beatings and rape, if they survived, made lives and families and homes, it was because of this and only this: Such Indian children were made to carry more than they were made to carry.’
He is speaking of the horrors faced by thousands of indigenous children in boarding school programs that ran under the slogan ‘Kill the Indian, Save the Man’ in an attempt to push ‘the vanishing race off into final captivity before disappearing into history forever.’ This is why survival becomes so key in the novel, though merely surviving is often not enough. Often survival is its own trade off with destruction, such as how the granting of citizenship and assimilation was an effort to dissolve—'a kind of chemical word for a gradual death of tribes and Indians, a clinical killing, designed by psychopaths calling themselves politicians'—the tribes and erase tribal identity. The Termination policies enacted in 1953 forced full citizenship as a way to end federal recognition of tribes and transfer reservation legal jurisdiction over to the federal government, all despite indigenous peoples already being granted citizenship in 1924. As is often the case, language becomes a mask for cruelty.
‘I think I needed to feel the bottom to know how to rise. Maybe we're all looking for our bottoms and tops in search of balance, where the loop feels just right, and like it's not just rote, not just repetition, but a beautiful echo, one so entrenching we lose ourselves in it.’
The novel is wracked with scenes of addiction, poverty and heartbreak but also the dilemma of a disconnect with the past. A large theme of There, There touched on how indigenous identity was often difficult to pin down in the modern world, a theme that continues here. While there is the recognition that ‘no Indians from when they first named us Indians would recognize us as Indians now,’ even Orvil admits that in the present day many of the historical indigenous practices they keep alive ‘can feel corny, and fake, or like trying too hard for something that wasn’t really there.’ Times change, identity shifts, and how can one feel the pulse of the past when the nation spent so much effort and violence into erasing their stories. Though this is not necessarily a complete loss as the novel notes that change is natural and life flows into life, such as the family lineage going from Stars to Bear Shields and eventually Red Feathers. The family marches forward through time even when beleaguered by external aggressions or internal struggles.
Ultimately, Wandering Stars captures ‘the kind of love that survives surviving.’ It is the thing that keeps us going, the heavy hope we are willing to carry. This is an ambitious novel, a bit quieter and looser than its predecessor, and it seeks to capture the truly expansive ideas and questions on identity and history. While perhaps it overreaches at times and can occasionally feel like checking as many boxes of themes as possible instead of thoroughly exploring a tighter few, Orange manages to carry his ideas into fruition and craft an engaging novel that achieves its goals.
4.5/5
'Everything about your life will feel impossible. And you being or becoming an Indian will feel the same. Nevertheless you will be an Indian and an American and a woman and a human wanting to belong to what being human means.'
May 6, 2024
so...this was excellent.
it had so much to say about america, about family, about addiction, about being native, about cultural identity, and it did it all in such beautiful language and so precisely.
there were parts of this where it lost me, and there was one perspective i don't think added more than it took away, and if anything this was maybe too little a sequel to the first book, but the last sentences of this brought tears to my eyes.
striking.
bottom line: one of those books where you're like, wow, that's a good title, and then every sentence is as good.
---------------------
pre-review
"i can't wait to read this book" -girl who is waiting to read it
update: i should not have waited.
(4.5 / review to come / thanks to the publisher for the e-arc)
it had so much to say about america, about family, about addiction, about being native, about cultural identity, and it did it all in such beautiful language and so precisely.
there were parts of this where it lost me, and there was one perspective i don't think added more than it took away, and if anything this was maybe too little a sequel to the first book, but the last sentences of this brought tears to my eyes.
striking.
bottom line: one of those books where you're like, wow, that's a good title, and then every sentence is as good.
---------------------
pre-review
"i can't wait to read this book" -girl who is waiting to read it
update: i should not have waited.
(4.5 / review to come / thanks to the publisher for the e-arc)
October 16, 2023
Beautifully written, difficult to read, but it’s important to know and to acknowledge history and the impact of that history on the present. Wow , can this man write - from the heart soul as he depicts the Indigenous American experience at different times . The prologue itself should be taught in high schools. It’s a multi generational story of identity, belonging, legacy and family, reflected through loss, blood shed, addiction. This is a follow up to Tommy Orange’s first novel There There. But it’s more than just a follow up taking me back to memorable characters that I loved in that novel. It goes further back in time to earlier generations of the family, back to the Sand Creek Massacre of 1864 with Jude Star and to 1924 with his son Charles Star focusing on the infamous Carlisle Indian School.
As in his first novel, this one is told through multiple points of view. I can’t quite give this all the stars as I felt the strength of the connections between the stories stronger in There There. Having said that, meeting Orvil Red Feather again as he continues on his journey to find himself, meeting again Jacquie Red Feather, still healing , and Opal Viola Victoria Bear Shield, my favorite character, still fiercely loving and protecting her family is a moving experience . Tommy Orange has once again educated me and reminded me of the brutal past of the Native American, an important story to be told.
I received a copy of this book from Knopf through NetGalley.
As in his first novel, this one is told through multiple points of view. I can’t quite give this all the stars as I felt the strength of the connections between the stories stronger in There There. Having said that, meeting Orvil Red Feather again as he continues on his journey to find himself, meeting again Jacquie Red Feather, still healing , and Opal Viola Victoria Bear Shield, my favorite character, still fiercely loving and protecting her family is a moving experience . Tommy Orange has once again educated me and reminded me of the brutal past of the Native American, an important story to be told.
I received a copy of this book from Knopf through NetGalley.
January 9, 2024
I had mixed thoughts about There, There. So I was curious to see what Tommy Orange would do for his sophomore effort. Again, I’m of a mixed mind. The story is beautifully written. And there were multiple phrases that made me stop and think. I was highlighting massive sections of the book. But it feels like a scattergun approach, snippets of stories rather than a rock solid plot. The problem is I tend to like more cohesion, more plot development. Beginning in 1864 with the Sand Creek Massacre, it follows generations until it reaches Orvil Red Feather, from There, There. But it’s not necessary to have read There, There. Things do become more cohesive in the second half, as the book concentrates on the most recent three generations of the family.
It’s a story of various addictions, shootings, tribulations, religions. Each generation suffers from the sins of the past. We hear from multiple characters, including General Pratt who ran the prison and founded The Carlisle Indian School. It’s about finding one’s identity. And I can’t fault the character development. Orange gives us an in depth look of Opal, Orvil and Lony. But so much of the book concentrated on getting high which I just struggled with. I would say if you liked There, There, you will like this book. If you weren’t a big fan of it, steer clear of this one.
My thanks to Netgalley and Knopf for an advance copy of this book.
It’s a story of various addictions, shootings, tribulations, religions. Each generation suffers from the sins of the past. We hear from multiple characters, including General Pratt who ran the prison and founded The Carlisle Indian School. It’s about finding one’s identity. And I can’t fault the character development. Orange gives us an in depth look of Opal, Orvil and Lony. But so much of the book concentrated on getting high which I just struggled with. I would say if you liked There, There, you will like this book. If you weren’t a big fan of it, steer clear of this one.
My thanks to Netgalley and Knopf for an advance copy of this book.
February 23, 2024
Wandering Stars is not a BIG book in terms of pages (336) but HUGE in what it contains. I have not read There There and plan on making time to do so after reading this powerful book. Tommy Orange's writing is quite beautiful while detailing and describing horrible injustices against Native Americans.
Colorado, 1864
Star has survived the Sand Creek Massacre and is taken to the Fort Marion Prison Castle, where they are hellbent on removing his identity and culture through violence and barbaric treatment. He is made to learn English and convert to Christianity. Years later Star's son, Charles, will be sent to the same place and will be brutalized by the man who once brutalized his father. There he will meet Opal.
Oakland, 2018
Opal is coping with all that has happened and all that is currently happening in her life and to those she loves by experimenting with drugs.
This book touches on several horrific things that occurred to Native Americans. The things discussed are on a drop in the bucket of injustices, harms, abuses, eradication, and violence that has been committed against Native Americans. I appreciate the author for giving voice to them. I am a firm believer that we should never shy away from things that make us uncomfortable. It is how we learn, how we grow, how we are educated, how we learn empathy, and how we gain insight. The atrocities against Native Americans have included cultural devastation, assimilation, violence, loss of land, abuse, forced relocation, discrimination, removal of children, and death to name a few.
The Sand Creek Massacre, Fort Marion Prison Castle, and drug/alcohol abuses are mentioned in this book. There is not only physical trauma, emotional trauma, but family trauma and cultural trauma detailed as well. These are shown through the POV's of several characters.
This family saga was well written, gripping, and hard to read at times. It has me wanting to read the author's previous book. I found myself thinking about this book after I finished the last page.
Thank you to Knopf and NetGalley who provided me with a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. All the thoughts and opinions are my own.
Read more of my reviews at www.openbookposts.com
Colorado, 1864
Star has survived the Sand Creek Massacre and is taken to the Fort Marion Prison Castle, where they are hellbent on removing his identity and culture through violence and barbaric treatment. He is made to learn English and convert to Christianity. Years later Star's son, Charles, will be sent to the same place and will be brutalized by the man who once brutalized his father. There he will meet Opal.
Oakland, 2018
Opal is coping with all that has happened and all that is currently happening in her life and to those she loves by experimenting with drugs.
This book touches on several horrific things that occurred to Native Americans. The things discussed are on a drop in the bucket of injustices, harms, abuses, eradication, and violence that has been committed against Native Americans. I appreciate the author for giving voice to them. I am a firm believer that we should never shy away from things that make us uncomfortable. It is how we learn, how we grow, how we are educated, how we learn empathy, and how we gain insight. The atrocities against Native Americans have included cultural devastation, assimilation, violence, loss of land, abuse, forced relocation, discrimination, removal of children, and death to name a few.
The Sand Creek Massacre, Fort Marion Prison Castle, and drug/alcohol abuses are mentioned in this book. There is not only physical trauma, emotional trauma, but family trauma and cultural trauma detailed as well. These are shown through the POV's of several characters.
This family saga was well written, gripping, and hard to read at times. It has me wanting to read the author's previous book. I found myself thinking about this book after I finished the last page.
Thank you to Knopf and NetGalley who provided me with a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. All the thoughts and opinions are my own.
Read more of my reviews at www.openbookposts.com
February 27, 2024
There are Consequences
We did inhumane things to Native Americans in the name of taking over (“settling”) our new property. This is not a news flash, you can look it up, there are facts and footnotes in your Wikipedia. Seems like a long time ago– what with cowboys and such…sepia picture images so far removed from life today. “Wandering Stars,” emerges with violence before author Tommy Orange depicts the ceaseless efforts to systematically eliminate any trace of Native culture. How this history effectively shackles today’s Native American is what we discover here.
In 1864, approximately 230 Cheyenne and Arapaho people, mostly women and children, were brutally murdered and mutilated in the Sand Creek massacre. “Wandering Stars” starts there, with a young Jude Star surviving the attack, only to be captured and sent to Carlisle Industrial Indian School, an infamous re-education institution tasked with assimilating Native Americans into civilized society. The school’s founder, Richard Henry Pratt, lived by the expression, “Kill the Indian, save the man.” He told students they were being taught to become Carlisle Indians, a new tribe belonging to the school and the U.S. government. The children were whitewashed, severed from any trace of their history or heritage.
This is only a portion of the book. The point is bridging the trauma of the past with today. We see subsequent generations orphaned from their past, only vaguely aware of their ancestors and their folklore. Here are people hurting today, not just mysterious tragic figures frozen in history. Drug addiction, alcoholism, depression, suicide… companions to the sustained dehumanization.
“Wandering Stars” is a prequel and sequel to Tommy Orange’s “There There,” a Pulitzer Prize finalist in 2018. You do not have to have read the first book to follow the character or buy into their stories. It is a riveting read and provides an important bridge from history to what is being dealt with today. It is enlightening.
Thank you to Knopf and NetGalley for providing an advance reader copy in exchange for an honest review.
“The so-called Chivington or Sand Creek Massacre, in spite of certain most objectionable details, was on the whole as righteous and beneficial a deed as ever took place on the frontier.” – Theodore Roosevelt
We did inhumane things to Native Americans in the name of taking over (“settling”) our new property. This is not a news flash, you can look it up, there are facts and footnotes in your Wikipedia. Seems like a long time ago– what with cowboys and such…sepia picture images so far removed from life today. “Wandering Stars,” emerges with violence before author Tommy Orange depicts the ceaseless efforts to systematically eliminate any trace of Native culture. How this history effectively shackles today’s Native American is what we discover here.
In 1864, approximately 230 Cheyenne and Arapaho people, mostly women and children, were brutally murdered and mutilated in the Sand Creek massacre. “Wandering Stars” starts there, with a young Jude Star surviving the attack, only to be captured and sent to Carlisle Industrial Indian School, an infamous re-education institution tasked with assimilating Native Americans into civilized society. The school’s founder, Richard Henry Pratt, lived by the expression, “Kill the Indian, save the man.” He told students they were being taught to become Carlisle Indians, a new tribe belonging to the school and the U.S. government. The children were whitewashed, severed from any trace of their history or heritage.
This is only a portion of the book. The point is bridging the trauma of the past with today. We see subsequent generations orphaned from their past, only vaguely aware of their ancestors and their folklore. Here are people hurting today, not just mysterious tragic figures frozen in history. Drug addiction, alcoholism, depression, suicide… companions to the sustained dehumanization.
“Wandering Stars” is a prequel and sequel to Tommy Orange’s “There There,” a Pulitzer Prize finalist in 2018. You do not have to have read the first book to follow the character or buy into their stories. It is a riveting read and provides an important bridge from history to what is being dealt with today. It is enlightening.
Thank you to Knopf and NetGalley for providing an advance reader copy in exchange for an honest review.
“The so-called Chivington or Sand Creek Massacre, in spite of certain most objectionable details, was on the whole as righteous and beneficial a deed as ever took place on the frontier.” – Theodore Roosevelt
March 29, 2024
“The spiders weave a web to keep the stars in place, as guiding light in our darknesses. The stars are our ancestors, but the spiders are too. They are the weaving and the light.” Tommy Orange gets to the soul of Indian/Native spirituality, the whole nonlinear beauty of time and life and celestial grace.
It's so rare that I just want to reproduce bushels of quotes from the book as the gist of my review. TO’s passages are so elegant and infinite, I am deeply moved by his themes of assimilation, alienation, addiction, sobriety, suicide, stories, sickness, psychosis, isolated trauma and shared trauma, generational trauma, memory, death. I felt a collective consciousness with all the characters, because Tommy Orange puts people in his stories, not stand-ins. It’s fiction, but the characters are specific and dimensional, their interiorities a deep well. He gets to the heart of storytelling.
“There are many stories for what happens after you die. You become light or become dead light of stars or you swim the river in the sky or you become the soil in the earth. Angels and demons and ghosts. Anything is a story we tell ourselves about a silence.”
Within the author’s sublime language, he makes no bones about the pain of Natives. Like There There, Orange nails it when it comes to addiction, not just from a reportage kind of view, but inside, in the essence of a person who is suffering, screaming inside and yet somehow seeming to function, until they don’t. All the pretty words that Orange uses become solid, brick-like, when he talks about addiction.
“That’s what addiction had aways felt like, like the best little thing you’d forget on the worst day possible, or the worst big thing on a day in a life you thought kept getting better because you kept getting high.”
I am thrilled I read this right after reading TT. You don’t have to, they both stand alone, but together they are even more exceptional, as this novel is both a prequel and a sequel to There There. The story opens with the harrowing Sand Creek Massacre of 1864, when the US Army slaughtered the Arapaho and Cheyenne tribes. My heart was already in my teeth at that point.
The descendant line is re-imagined by Tommy Orange. And the reader learns what happened at the end of There There, which was an abrupt bur inexorable cliffhanger of a finale.
Tommy Orange also talks about the paradox of the 1924 citizenship bestowed upon Indian tribes in the U.S., how the citizenship was a euphemism for dissolving tribes, dissolve being another word for disappearance, “a kind of chemical word for a gradual death of tribes and Indians, a clinical killing, designed by psychopaths calling themselves politicians.”
“Citizenship being granted will be a kind of victory too, because you will not have died in any of the wars or massacres, you will have survived starving and relocation, indoctrination and assimilation, you will have lasted long enough that they had to say that you too, our longtime, once mortal enemy, even you are one of us, even if its meanings, its rights, won’t come for decades, the seed will have become there, in the year you were born.”
Tommy Orange put the Natives in Oakland, California on the consequential map; Orange is a national treasure. Keep on writing for us, for everyone, for your tribe, for your culture, and for those outside your culture. We are all connected. If TT was a 5 (yes, it was), then this is a 7, even though we don’t have the stars we can assign for it. We are wandering stars, all of us.
I want to add another favorite quote of mine from this book:
“Everything about your life will feel impossible. And you being or becoming an Indian will feel the same. Nevertheless you will be an Indian and an American ad a woman and a human wanting to belong to what being human means.”
A massive thank you to Knopf for sending me this book without my even asking. You must have known it was written for me, a white, Caucasian, Jewish girl from Boston. I feel just a little bit Native American Oakland Californian after reading this masterpiece.
It's so rare that I just want to reproduce bushels of quotes from the book as the gist of my review. TO’s passages are so elegant and infinite, I am deeply moved by his themes of assimilation, alienation, addiction, sobriety, suicide, stories, sickness, psychosis, isolated trauma and shared trauma, generational trauma, memory, death. I felt a collective consciousness with all the characters, because Tommy Orange puts people in his stories, not stand-ins. It’s fiction, but the characters are specific and dimensional, their interiorities a deep well. He gets to the heart of storytelling.
“There are many stories for what happens after you die. You become light or become dead light of stars or you swim the river in the sky or you become the soil in the earth. Angels and demons and ghosts. Anything is a story we tell ourselves about a silence.”
Within the author’s sublime language, he makes no bones about the pain of Natives. Like There There, Orange nails it when it comes to addiction, not just from a reportage kind of view, but inside, in the essence of a person who is suffering, screaming inside and yet somehow seeming to function, until they don’t. All the pretty words that Orange uses become solid, brick-like, when he talks about addiction.
“That’s what addiction had aways felt like, like the best little thing you’d forget on the worst day possible, or the worst big thing on a day in a life you thought kept getting better because you kept getting high.”
I am thrilled I read this right after reading TT. You don’t have to, they both stand alone, but together they are even more exceptional, as this novel is both a prequel and a sequel to There There. The story opens with the harrowing Sand Creek Massacre of 1864, when the US Army slaughtered the Arapaho and Cheyenne tribes. My heart was already in my teeth at that point.
The descendant line is re-imagined by Tommy Orange. And the reader learns what happened at the end of There There, which was an abrupt bur inexorable cliffhanger of a finale.
Tommy Orange also talks about the paradox of the 1924 citizenship bestowed upon Indian tribes in the U.S., how the citizenship was a euphemism for dissolving tribes, dissolve being another word for disappearance, “a kind of chemical word for a gradual death of tribes and Indians, a clinical killing, designed by psychopaths calling themselves politicians.”
“Citizenship being granted will be a kind of victory too, because you will not have died in any of the wars or massacres, you will have survived starving and relocation, indoctrination and assimilation, you will have lasted long enough that they had to say that you too, our longtime, once mortal enemy, even you are one of us, even if its meanings, its rights, won’t come for decades, the seed will have become there, in the year you were born.”
Tommy Orange put the Natives in Oakland, California on the consequential map; Orange is a national treasure. Keep on writing for us, for everyone, for your tribe, for your culture, and for those outside your culture. We are all connected. If TT was a 5 (yes, it was), then this is a 7, even though we don’t have the stars we can assign for it. We are wandering stars, all of us.
I want to add another favorite quote of mine from this book:
“Everything about your life will feel impossible. And you being or becoming an Indian will feel the same. Nevertheless you will be an Indian and an American ad a woman and a human wanting to belong to what being human means.”
A massive thank you to Knopf for sending me this book without my even asking. You must have known it was written for me, a white, Caucasian, Jewish girl from Boston. I feel just a little bit Native American Oakland Californian after reading this masterpiece.
April 23, 2024
**Many thanks to NetGalley, Knopf, and Tommy Orange for an ARC of this book! Now available as of 2.27!!**
"But surviving wasn't enough. To endure or to pass through endurance test after endurance test only ever gave you endurance test passing abilities. Simply lasting was great for a wall, for a fortress, but not for a person."
The year is 1864. Star is a survivor of the Sand Creek Massacre, a mass execution of Cheyenne and Arapaho people during the American Indian Wars and has made it through the bloodshed, but has been relocated to Fort Marion Prison Castle. Now under the watch of Richard Henry Pratt, he is forced to put his culture and heritage aside and learn both Christianity and English. This will be the beginning of a mission for Pratt, who will later found the Carlisle Indian Industrial School, an institution whose core mission will be much the same: erase and replace Indian culture. This school will find the family several years later, when Jude's son Charles also falls victim to the prison and trapped in these unfeeling and unforgiving walls.
Charles' only solace is his friendship with a fellow inmate Opal Viola, and the bond they share is quick and effortless. They both long for a future on the outside, a world without a motto that states "Kill the Indian, Save the Man." We then jump in time to Oakland in 2018, directly after the violent pow-wow massacre that took place at the end of Orange's first book, There There, and the horrific aftermath of these events. Orvil has survived the shooting, but heads down a dangerous road when it comes to his painkillers, and his family, knee deep in their own trauma, is not much better off. Under the strain of racism, injustice, and pain, can this family band together to rail against the forces that keep them clawing and fighting for their very survival? Or will the legacy of generational trauma, pain, and degradation leave them as 'wandering stars'...forever?
There There is nothing short of a stunning piece of literature. I remember TEARING through that book in a day or less, enraptured by the cast of characters and Orange's fluid, mesmerizing prose. The voices were SO distinct, SO real, that I felt as though I was reading a collection of journals rather than a work of fiction. So much so, that I honestly GOOGLED There There after reading it JUST to make sure it was fiction: it was just THAT good. The crescendo of action, the perfect climax, the beautiful mix of light and dark that played gently throughout the pages...there's a reason the book was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize. Oh, and not to mention...that was Orange's DEBUT.
So it's hard to imagine a book that could live up to the sort of impossible precedent Orange laid out for well, himself, after such a jaw-dropping first novel. I went into Wandering Stars with the loftiest of hopes, the highest of expectations...and while I was still thoroughly WOWED by Orange's ability to turn a phrase...There There this was not.
First off, Orange attempted to do something I don't think I've ever personally read in a book before: he wrote a prequel AND a sequel to There There...and put them in the same book. This was a strange experience for me as a reader, in the sense that There, There is SO contemporary in flavor from start to finish, and the first part of THIS book essentially reads more like historical fiction...and a very specific subset of historical fiction dealing with the aforementioned battle, at that. This isn't to say this section of the book is BAD by any stretch, and it is certainly informative and provides a different level of context, but like with so many other historical fiction reads, it felt a bit dry and less emotionally driven compared to the in-your-face gut punch that began from page one of There, There. I'm not sure if being more familiar with the context of the events themselves would have been helpful, but many times I felt bogged down by the details rather than simply swept away by Orange's storytelling ability.
There's also the fact that this story works its way through a (somewhat) complex family tree, where family members are often named after one another or have multiple names, and this makes the family tree that Orange puts at the beginning of the book nothing short of essential. Especially for someone whose memory can get a bit muddled when there are LOTS of characters involved, I can't even tell you the number of times I flipped back and forth to remember who was talking or who was related to who and how...it can be a LOT. Always worthwhile, mind you, but although this is more of a personal preference, I wish the chapters were outlined with the narrator's name at the beginning of each section for reference too: sometimes we went into a new character's narration abruptly, and other times it was simply a continuation from the previous chapter, and it would have been wonderful to have a clearer distinction between the two options.
Once we got to the present day (or rather, as close as we get in the novel, from 2018 onward) things began to turn and I felt more of the flow I had been missing thus far. There was one chapter in particular (I believe narrated by Lony) that at its completion, I sat back and honestly wished I could give that single chapter TEN stars. Orange is such a gifted writer, so thoughtful and specific, prescient without coming off as high brow or arrogant, and his ability to craft a compelling sentence is top-notch. There were so many instances where if I'd had a physical copy of this book I KNOW I would have been highlighting it left and right (Or at least, adding Post-It note markers for later reference!) and as time wore on, I started to wish that the WHOLE book had read more like this last section. I know Orange had the ability to make this SEQUEL book happen and in some ways, it became a bit one note with the addiction struggles of sorts experienced by multiple characters. I did miss a bit of the pulse-pounding, adrenaline fueled rush of his first book's third act climax...but this book is more about examination and exploration of past abominations....and the ripples that still are felt, even today.
I'll leave you with an observation from one of Orange's many brilliant narrators, with a sentiment that not only applies to the long-standing struggle and pain of indigenous people, but to a longing and wanting keenly felt by humanity itself: "I think I needed to feel the bottom to know how to rise. Maybe we're all looking for our bottoms and tops in search of balance, where the loop feels just right, and like it's not just rote, not just repetition, but a beautiful echo, one so entrenching we lose ourselves in it."
...May we lose ourselves in it, indeed.
4 stars
"But surviving wasn't enough. To endure or to pass through endurance test after endurance test only ever gave you endurance test passing abilities. Simply lasting was great for a wall, for a fortress, but not for a person."
The year is 1864. Star is a survivor of the Sand Creek Massacre, a mass execution of Cheyenne and Arapaho people during the American Indian Wars and has made it through the bloodshed, but has been relocated to Fort Marion Prison Castle. Now under the watch of Richard Henry Pratt, he is forced to put his culture and heritage aside and learn both Christianity and English. This will be the beginning of a mission for Pratt, who will later found the Carlisle Indian Industrial School, an institution whose core mission will be much the same: erase and replace Indian culture. This school will find the family several years later, when Jude's son Charles also falls victim to the prison and trapped in these unfeeling and unforgiving walls.
Charles' only solace is his friendship with a fellow inmate Opal Viola, and the bond they share is quick and effortless. They both long for a future on the outside, a world without a motto that states "Kill the Indian, Save the Man." We then jump in time to Oakland in 2018, directly after the violent pow-wow massacre that took place at the end of Orange's first book, There There, and the horrific aftermath of these events. Orvil has survived the shooting, but heads down a dangerous road when it comes to his painkillers, and his family, knee deep in their own trauma, is not much better off. Under the strain of racism, injustice, and pain, can this family band together to rail against the forces that keep them clawing and fighting for their very survival? Or will the legacy of generational trauma, pain, and degradation leave them as 'wandering stars'...forever?
There There is nothing short of a stunning piece of literature. I remember TEARING through that book in a day or less, enraptured by the cast of characters and Orange's fluid, mesmerizing prose. The voices were SO distinct, SO real, that I felt as though I was reading a collection of journals rather than a work of fiction. So much so, that I honestly GOOGLED There There after reading it JUST to make sure it was fiction: it was just THAT good. The crescendo of action, the perfect climax, the beautiful mix of light and dark that played gently throughout the pages...there's a reason the book was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize. Oh, and not to mention...that was Orange's DEBUT.
So it's hard to imagine a book that could live up to the sort of impossible precedent Orange laid out for well, himself, after such a jaw-dropping first novel. I went into Wandering Stars with the loftiest of hopes, the highest of expectations...and while I was still thoroughly WOWED by Orange's ability to turn a phrase...There There this was not.
First off, Orange attempted to do something I don't think I've ever personally read in a book before: he wrote a prequel AND a sequel to There There...and put them in the same book. This was a strange experience for me as a reader, in the sense that There, There is SO contemporary in flavor from start to finish, and the first part of THIS book essentially reads more like historical fiction...and a very specific subset of historical fiction dealing with the aforementioned battle, at that. This isn't to say this section of the book is BAD by any stretch, and it is certainly informative and provides a different level of context, but like with so many other historical fiction reads, it felt a bit dry and less emotionally driven compared to the in-your-face gut punch that began from page one of There, There. I'm not sure if being more familiar with the context of the events themselves would have been helpful, but many times I felt bogged down by the details rather than simply swept away by Orange's storytelling ability.
There's also the fact that this story works its way through a (somewhat) complex family tree, where family members are often named after one another or have multiple names, and this makes the family tree that Orange puts at the beginning of the book nothing short of essential. Especially for someone whose memory can get a bit muddled when there are LOTS of characters involved, I can't even tell you the number of times I flipped back and forth to remember who was talking or who was related to who and how...it can be a LOT. Always worthwhile, mind you, but although this is more of a personal preference, I wish the chapters were outlined with the narrator's name at the beginning of each section for reference too: sometimes we went into a new character's narration abruptly, and other times it was simply a continuation from the previous chapter, and it would have been wonderful to have a clearer distinction between the two options.
Once we got to the present day (or rather, as close as we get in the novel, from 2018 onward) things began to turn and I felt more of the flow I had been missing thus far. There was one chapter in particular (I believe narrated by Lony) that at its completion, I sat back and honestly wished I could give that single chapter TEN stars. Orange is such a gifted writer, so thoughtful and specific, prescient without coming off as high brow or arrogant, and his ability to craft a compelling sentence is top-notch. There were so many instances where if I'd had a physical copy of this book I KNOW I would have been highlighting it left and right (Or at least, adding Post-It note markers for later reference!) and as time wore on, I started to wish that the WHOLE book had read more like this last section. I know Orange had the ability to make this SEQUEL book happen and in some ways, it became a bit one note with the addiction struggles of sorts experienced by multiple characters. I did miss a bit of the pulse-pounding, adrenaline fueled rush of his first book's third act climax...but this book is more about examination and exploration of past abominations....and the ripples that still are felt, even today.
I'll leave you with an observation from one of Orange's many brilliant narrators, with a sentiment that not only applies to the long-standing struggle and pain of indigenous people, but to a longing and wanting keenly felt by humanity itself: "I think I needed to feel the bottom to know how to rise. Maybe we're all looking for our bottoms and tops in search of balance, where the loop feels just right, and like it's not just rote, not just repetition, but a beautiful echo, one so entrenching we lose ourselves in it."
...May we lose ourselves in it, indeed.
4 stars
March 30, 2024
Wandering Stars is the poignant follow-up novel to Tommy Orange’s There There.
This generational novel follows two timelines: what happened after the Sand Creek Massacre of 1864 and the aftermath of a shooting at a powwow in 2018.
There are plenty of discussions on religion and trauma, including generational trauma. It examines how Richard Henry Pratt tried to “kill the Indian, save the man” when he founded the Carlisle Indian Industrial School.
I struggled with TT due to the number of POVs and the writing style. It had a lot of characters and not that many pages to get acquainted with all of them. However, this book has slightly fewer POVs, which allows a closer understanding of each one.
I can appreciate the stunning quality of Tommy Orange’s writing style, but personally, I struggle with texts that are heavily introspective and which feature minimal dialogue. The contemporary timeline has slightly more dialogue than the historical sections. Still, I think this will be a five-star read for many people.
3.5 stars rounded up.
Thank you to McClelland & Stewart for providing me with an arc in exchange for an honest review.
https://booksandwheels.com
This generational novel follows two timelines: what happened after the Sand Creek Massacre of 1864 and the aftermath of a shooting at a powwow in 2018.
There are plenty of discussions on religion and trauma, including generational trauma. It examines how Richard Henry Pratt tried to “kill the Indian, save the man” when he founded the Carlisle Indian Industrial School.
I struggled with TT due to the number of POVs and the writing style. It had a lot of characters and not that many pages to get acquainted with all of them. However, this book has slightly fewer POVs, which allows a closer understanding of each one.
I can appreciate the stunning quality of Tommy Orange’s writing style, but personally, I struggle with texts that are heavily introspective and which feature minimal dialogue. The contemporary timeline has slightly more dialogue than the historical sections. Still, I think this will be a five-star read for many people.
3.5 stars rounded up.
Thank you to McClelland & Stewart for providing me with an arc in exchange for an honest review.
https://booksandwheels.com
March 24, 2024
Orange's sophomore novel is both a sequel and a prequel to his debut: We re-encounter Orvil, the teenager who was trying to find his cultural identity and got shot at the powwow at the end of There There, as well as his family members. Not only do we learn what happened after the shooting incident, no, Orange traces Orvil's lineage back to the 1864 Sand Creek massacre, thus turning this into a story about how inter-generational trauma manifests. Per usual, Orange's characters are so captivating and deep that he manages to convey what mere history books cannot depict: How history feels, how it unfolds inside a person's consciousness and how it works on the subconsciousness.
"Wandering Stars" is a book about survival and its cost, and the repeated attempts of individuals to both connect to their heritage and flee a circle of (attempted) destruction as well as self-destruction. Orvil's ancestor Bird survives the massacre against the Cheyenne and Arapaho (Orange is also a member of this tribe) only to be imprisoned in Florida where he shall be "re-educated" (so stripped of his culture), a destiny his son Charles relives a generation later in the infamous Carlisle Indian Industrial School. Other ancestors lose their parents and are raised by white people, addiction to drugs and alcohol are recurring themes, as well as discrimination and exploitation, but also various forms of resistance, most notably the occupation of Alcatraz.
Back in the present, Orvil develops an opioid addiction after his hospital stay and befriends another struggling teenager with indigenous roots, while his beloved great-aunt Opal falls severely ill. Not only does Orange write some of the best, most honest passages on why people abuse drugs that I've ever read, he also illuminates how the resistance lives on in the young characters, often without them even realizing it: Orvil, his friend Sean, and his brother Lony all ponder how to find ways to live their cultural identity, they want to know what it means to be Native, despite the fact that much of their culture was not passed down by their elders, despite settler society wanting them to shed their heritage, despite the suffering the familial trauma has caused them. They are convinced that there is beauty and community to be found in who they are, and the generations are connected by their love for music and dancing and the will to uphold and create rituals.
The title of the novel refers to a song by Portishead, which alludes to the Bible verse Jude 1:13 about false prophets (Bird takes the name Jude Star and studies the Bible in his Florida prison cell). And there is also another connection the text makes: That to Le Clézio's novel Étoile errante which tells the story of Jewish and Palestinian refugees in and after WW II.
And now I want this year's prize judges to give Orange some love. In fact, lots of it.
"Wandering Stars" is a book about survival and its cost, and the repeated attempts of individuals to both connect to their heritage and flee a circle of (attempted) destruction as well as self-destruction. Orvil's ancestor Bird survives the massacre against the Cheyenne and Arapaho (Orange is also a member of this tribe) only to be imprisoned in Florida where he shall be "re-educated" (so stripped of his culture), a destiny his son Charles relives a generation later in the infamous Carlisle Indian Industrial School. Other ancestors lose their parents and are raised by white people, addiction to drugs and alcohol are recurring themes, as well as discrimination and exploitation, but also various forms of resistance, most notably the occupation of Alcatraz.
Back in the present, Orvil develops an opioid addiction after his hospital stay and befriends another struggling teenager with indigenous roots, while his beloved great-aunt Opal falls severely ill. Not only does Orange write some of the best, most honest passages on why people abuse drugs that I've ever read, he also illuminates how the resistance lives on in the young characters, often without them even realizing it: Orvil, his friend Sean, and his brother Lony all ponder how to find ways to live their cultural identity, they want to know what it means to be Native, despite the fact that much of their culture was not passed down by their elders, despite settler society wanting them to shed their heritage, despite the suffering the familial trauma has caused them. They are convinced that there is beauty and community to be found in who they are, and the generations are connected by their love for music and dancing and the will to uphold and create rituals.
The title of the novel refers to a song by Portishead, which alludes to the Bible verse Jude 1:13 about false prophets (Bird takes the name Jude Star and studies the Bible in his Florida prison cell). And there is also another connection the text makes: That to Le Clézio's novel Étoile errante which tells the story of Jewish and Palestinian refugees in and after WW II.
And now I want this year's prize judges to give Orange some love. In fact, lots of it.
February 17, 2024
Beginning in Colorado in 1865, the book begins with Jude Star, a young man who survived the Sand Creek Massacre. He is taken to Fort Marion Prison Castle where he is forced to forget his indigenous culture and instead learn English and practice Christianity.
A generation later, Jude’s son Charles is also sent to Fort Marion Prison Castle where he is brutalized by a man who was once his father's jailer. The only light in Charles’s life is that of his friend Opal Viola where the two dream of a life away from the institution.
We next travel to Oakland in 2018 where we meet Opal Viola Victoria Bear Shield who is struggling to hold her family together after a shooting almost claimed the life of her nephew.
What follows next is a Multigenerational saga and a catastrophic charge on America’s war on its indigenous people.
Stories like this from Native authors mean everything to me. Books like this not only make me feel seen but shed some light on some important injustices that my people have endured. Tommy Orange never fails to amaze me with his brilliant writing and how he weaves historical events into fiction.
Wandering Stars covers so much oppression that indigenous people have endured. It’s a story on how institutional violence can result in trauma for future generations, a story on how easy it is to fall into addiction, the search for identity, and finding change in yourself to better future generations. It’s a heart-wrenching and devastating tale but it's written with a lot of heart.
Just like There, There Wandering Stars is one of those books that I feel everyone should read at least once in their lives.
I listened to the audiobook version which was read by a full cast who all did such a phenomenal job breathing life into this story!
Wandering Stars by Tommy Orange will be available on February 27 from AA Knopf. A massive thanks to Penguin Random House Audio for the gifted copy!
A generation later, Jude’s son Charles is also sent to Fort Marion Prison Castle where he is brutalized by a man who was once his father's jailer. The only light in Charles’s life is that of his friend Opal Viola where the two dream of a life away from the institution.
We next travel to Oakland in 2018 where we meet Opal Viola Victoria Bear Shield who is struggling to hold her family together after a shooting almost claimed the life of her nephew.
What follows next is a Multigenerational saga and a catastrophic charge on America’s war on its indigenous people.
Stories like this from Native authors mean everything to me. Books like this not only make me feel seen but shed some light on some important injustices that my people have endured. Tommy Orange never fails to amaze me with his brilliant writing and how he weaves historical events into fiction.
Wandering Stars covers so much oppression that indigenous people have endured. It’s a story on how institutional violence can result in trauma for future generations, a story on how easy it is to fall into addiction, the search for identity, and finding change in yourself to better future generations. It’s a heart-wrenching and devastating tale but it's written with a lot of heart.
Just like There, There Wandering Stars is one of those books that I feel everyone should read at least once in their lives.
I listened to the audiobook version which was read by a full cast who all did such a phenomenal job breathing life into this story!
Wandering Stars by Tommy Orange will be available on February 27 from AA Knopf. A massive thanks to Penguin Random House Audio for the gifted copy!
February 22, 2024
Six years have passed since Tommy Orange published his debut novel, “There There,” but the echoes of that story still reverberate in the minds of those who read it. A member of the Cheyenne and Arapaho tribes, Orange introduced a large cast of Indians in modern-day California and drew them to the Oakland Coliseum for a powwow that offered a chance for cultural celebration, commercial enterprise, spiritual reflection and, most notably, grand larceny.
With varying degrees of success, these characters struggle to carve out a livable haven amid the caustic crosscurrents of American racism and historical amnesia. By listening sympathetically and refusing to elide their challenges — or their mistakes — Orange demonstrates that Indians are not feathered Hollywood tropes or wooden icons of Old West mythology. His fiction explores the complex challenges faced by people struggling to understand their identity within a dominant culture determined to bleach and sentimentalize the past.
During one of many poignant moments in Orange’s new novel, “Wandering Stars,” an Indian woman goes to a public library in the late 1950s and asks “what novels are written by Indian people.” The librarian tells her “she doesn’t think there are any.” Sixty years later, an Indian boy wonders “why there weren’t any Native American superheroes.” His older brother laments that he and his family “weren’t connected to the tribe or to their language or with the knowledge that other people had about being....
To read the rest of this review, go to The Washington Post:
https://www.washingtonpost.com/books/...
With varying degrees of success, these characters struggle to carve out a livable haven amid the caustic crosscurrents of American racism and historical amnesia. By listening sympathetically and refusing to elide their challenges — or their mistakes — Orange demonstrates that Indians are not feathered Hollywood tropes or wooden icons of Old West mythology. His fiction explores the complex challenges faced by people struggling to understand their identity within a dominant culture determined to bleach and sentimentalize the past.
During one of many poignant moments in Orange’s new novel, “Wandering Stars,” an Indian woman goes to a public library in the late 1950s and asks “what novels are written by Indian people.” The librarian tells her “she doesn’t think there are any.” Sixty years later, an Indian boy wonders “why there weren’t any Native American superheroes.” His older brother laments that he and his family “weren’t connected to the tribe or to their language or with the knowledge that other people had about being....
To read the rest of this review, go to The Washington Post:
https://www.washingtonpost.com/books/...
January 14, 2024
3.5, rounded down. Like The Godfather, Part 2, Wandering Stars is both a prequel and a sequel to Orange's much-garlanded 2018 debut There There.
While Orange is undeniably talented, this is a 5-star historical prelude to a 3-star contemporary realist novel. Wandering Stars is really two discrete pieces of fiction that develop the same theme of addiction amongst many generations of the same native Cheyenne family, who have survived the 1864 Sand Creek Massacre by the U.S. Army, re-education in government schools in the early 20th century.
Orange affectingly chronicles their gradual and forcible process of being severed off from their culture, heritage, and sense of individual and collective identity. Their family bonds fray and crack under the strain of addiction, and their children suffer from abandonment, as earlier generations turn to alcohol to fill the ensuing void, and their contemporary descendants are hooked on prescription opiates.
The first part of the novel is breathtaking, consisting of a powerful Greek-chorus prelude, followed by short and powerful chapters chronicling the trauma and adaptation of a Native father and son. Jude Star, a massacre survivor is deported to a military prison-school in Fort Marion, Florida, and his son Charles endures and escapes from a regimented childhood in the Carlisle Indian Industrial School in Pennsylvania. Both institutions are run by the brutal and domineering Richard Henry Pratt, who becomes a fictionalized character that allows Orange to probe the consciousness of white racism.
The remaining two-thirds of the novel revisit the protagonists of There There in a working-class neighborhood of Oakland, after Orvil Red Feather, a distant descendant of the family, has been shot at a powwow.
The structure here is much looser and baggier, and Orange is content to let the reader hang out and observe characters for which he has great empathy: Orvil's long-suffering and saintly almost-grandmother Opal, and his video-game-addicted brothers Lony and Loother. But the focus drifts and drifts, encompassing the occupation of Alcatraz in 1969 and the tech-boom gentrification of the Bay Area. The political monologues he gives his characters are preachy and a little too on-the-nose.
What made There There such a tense and immersive reading experience is the way that Orange ratcheted up the tension in a Tarantino-esque way until an explosion of violence. But the second part of Wandering Starts just sputters out, with a subplot about a wealthy White dad running a pill factory in the basement of his house up in the Oakland Hills, and Orvil becoming a dealer and user.
Thanks to Knopf and Netgalley for giving me an ARC in exchange for an honest and unbiased review.
While Orange is undeniably talented, this is a 5-star historical prelude to a 3-star contemporary realist novel. Wandering Stars is really two discrete pieces of fiction that develop the same theme of addiction amongst many generations of the same native Cheyenne family, who have survived the 1864 Sand Creek Massacre by the U.S. Army, re-education in government schools in the early 20th century.
Orange affectingly chronicles their gradual and forcible process of being severed off from their culture, heritage, and sense of individual and collective identity. Their family bonds fray and crack under the strain of addiction, and their children suffer from abandonment, as earlier generations turn to alcohol to fill the ensuing void, and their contemporary descendants are hooked on prescription opiates.
The first part of the novel is breathtaking, consisting of a powerful Greek-chorus prelude, followed by short and powerful chapters chronicling the trauma and adaptation of a Native father and son. Jude Star, a massacre survivor is deported to a military prison-school in Fort Marion, Florida, and his son Charles endures and escapes from a regimented childhood in the Carlisle Indian Industrial School in Pennsylvania. Both institutions are run by the brutal and domineering Richard Henry Pratt, who becomes a fictionalized character that allows Orange to probe the consciousness of white racism.
The remaining two-thirds of the novel revisit the protagonists of There There in a working-class neighborhood of Oakland, after Orvil Red Feather, a distant descendant of the family, has been shot at a powwow.
The structure here is much looser and baggier, and Orange is content to let the reader hang out and observe characters for which he has great empathy: Orvil's long-suffering and saintly almost-grandmother Opal, and his video-game-addicted brothers Lony and Loother. But the focus drifts and drifts, encompassing the occupation of Alcatraz in 1969 and the tech-boom gentrification of the Bay Area. The political monologues he gives his characters are preachy and a little too on-the-nose.
What made There There such a tense and immersive reading experience is the way that Orange ratcheted up the tension in a Tarantino-esque way until an explosion of violence. But the second part of Wandering Starts just sputters out, with a subplot about a wealthy White dad running a pill factory in the basement of his house up in the Oakland Hills, and Orvil becoming a dealer and user.
Thanks to Knopf and Netgalley for giving me an ARC in exchange for an honest and unbiased review.
March 7, 2024
“The spiders weave a web to keep the stars in place, as guiding light in our darknesses. The stars are our ancestors, but the spiders are too. They are the weaving and the light.”
Both prequel and sequel to Tommy Orange’s There There, Wandering Stars is a book of two halves. The first part runs from the Sand Creek Massacre in 1864 up to the 1960s, with each chapter representing an entry in the Redfeather family tree. The second part skips ahead 50 years or so, to rejoin the Redfeathers in the present, immediately after the dramatic conclusion of There, There.
Taking in a sweep of history, only to concentrate it in the present, is an interesting tactic, allowing for all sorts of looping, rippling, and mirroring of narratives. The contemporary characters feel their family and cultural history mostly in its lack—almost tangible lacunae—thanks to generations of murder and dispossession, but as readers we are granted access to a small glimpse of those lost stories.
The most powerful of these is one of the shortest: the chapter in which the heavily pregnant Opal Viola flees her white employers, written in an incantatory second person POV, addressed to her unborn child. It is a virtuosic piece of short fiction in its own right.
Orange’s prose soars and his characters vibrate with an intense realness that lifts them off the page. His ability to imagine and give voice to a polyphonic array of people across ages, genders, and time periods is truly impressive. But on occasion Orange sacrifices authenticity to polemic, sounding a false note that could have been averted by utilising the third person POV a bit more. This is particularly evident in Lony’s final letter, a head-scratching conclusion to this otherwise excellent novel.
The title references a bible verse, Jude 1:13: ‘Raging waves of the sea, foaming out their own shame, wandering stars, to whom is reserved the blackness of darkness forever’. It’s a fatalistic maxim for post-colonial Native American history, threaded into the family line by a character who mournfully adopts the name Jude Star. This black thread tumbles down the family tree in the form of substance abuse and generational trauma. Yet the verse contains a paradox: where there are stars the darkness is not total. Light can be found in the form of community, connection, and belonging. Stars constellate in groups, and so must people. As this novel attests, survival depends on it.
Both prequel and sequel to Tommy Orange’s There There, Wandering Stars is a book of two halves. The first part runs from the Sand Creek Massacre in 1864 up to the 1960s, with each chapter representing an entry in the Redfeather family tree. The second part skips ahead 50 years or so, to rejoin the Redfeathers in the present, immediately after the dramatic conclusion of There, There.
Taking in a sweep of history, only to concentrate it in the present, is an interesting tactic, allowing for all sorts of looping, rippling, and mirroring of narratives. The contemporary characters feel their family and cultural history mostly in its lack—almost tangible lacunae—thanks to generations of murder and dispossession, but as readers we are granted access to a small glimpse of those lost stories.
The most powerful of these is one of the shortest: the chapter in which the heavily pregnant Opal Viola flees her white employers, written in an incantatory second person POV, addressed to her unborn child. It is a virtuosic piece of short fiction in its own right.
Orange’s prose soars and his characters vibrate with an intense realness that lifts them off the page. His ability to imagine and give voice to a polyphonic array of people across ages, genders, and time periods is truly impressive. But on occasion Orange sacrifices authenticity to polemic, sounding a false note that could have been averted by utilising the third person POV a bit more. This is particularly evident in Lony’s final letter, a head-scratching conclusion to this otherwise excellent novel.
The title references a bible verse, Jude 1:13: ‘Raging waves of the sea, foaming out their own shame, wandering stars, to whom is reserved the blackness of darkness forever’. It’s a fatalistic maxim for post-colonial Native American history, threaded into the family line by a character who mournfully adopts the name Jude Star. This black thread tumbles down the family tree in the form of substance abuse and generational trauma. Yet the verse contains a paradox: where there are stars the darkness is not total. Light can be found in the form of community, connection, and belonging. Stars constellate in groups, and so must people. As this novel attests, survival depends on it.
April 5, 2024
4★
“He’d first seen laudanum advertised all different kinds of ways. As an elixir. A soothing syrup. Once he saw it called the poor child’s doctor. Another time it was advertised for teething babies.”
And so begins this story of opiates. The dedication reads:
Important, difficult, interesting, confusing. This is what crossed my mind as I was reading. Addiction really wasn’t one, although I realise the author is speaking of the repercussions of colonialism, which kept Indians, especially children, in controlled institutions where their customs and languages were forbidden. I learned none of this at school.
“Charles Star’s memories come and go as they please. They are a broken mirror, through which he only ever sees himself in pieces. He doesn’t know that it is true of everyone, of memory itself
. . .
He has forgotten that he has forgotten things on purpose. This is how he has hidden them away from himself. He suspects there must be something worse beneath the worst of what he knows happened to him at the school, the haircuts and the scrubbings and the marches, the beatings and starvation and confinement, the countless methods of shaming him for continuing to be an Indian despite their tireless efforts at educating and Christianizing and civilizing him.”
Nor was I taught about this.
“These kinds of events were called battles, then later— sometimes—massacres, in America’s longest war. More years at war with Indians than as a nation. Three hundred and thirteen. After all the killing and removing, scattering and rounding up of Indian people to put them on reservations, and after the buffalo population was reduced from about thirty million to a few hundred in the wild, the thinking being “’very buffalo dead is an Indian gone,’ there came another campaign-style slogan directed at the Indian problem: ‘Kill the Indian, Save the Man.’”
I think that conquerors in ancient times captured and enslaved whatever survivors there were after the last battle. As society has progressed (I use the word loosely), those who move in and take over someone else’s land, plant a flag, declare it a ‘new’ country, tend to ‘allow’ the original inhabitants to do domestic and farm work until they are ready to be assimilated into the new society (once they have learned their place, of course). Kill the Indian and save the man.
Today, not just in America but around the world, First Nations Peoples are attempting to reclaim their cultures and languages with pride. In spite of Charlie Star’s ‘broken mirror memories’, some traditions are indeed being passed down, like the dances and songs and the powwow, where performers and participants wear the regalia particular to their tribe.
Some of this was explained in the Pulitze Prize-winning first book, There There, but the family dynamics, both historically and present-day, are shown in more detail here. It is heartbreaking to watch those lost children, who are now grandparents, trying to save their own grandchildren from drugs.
It is no wonder that people turn to anything to numb the pain. What began with ceremonial peyote becomes dope, opioids, and the concoction the young people here called Blanx, because the ingredients changed according to what the supplier could get for them to mix up and sell. Life in California is not a beach for them. It sucks. Big time.
Many sections are narrated in the second person, which I found confusing. There is a good family tree in the front of the book that I referred to frequently. As with many families, people are named after each other, so I’d forget which generation was which.
“Your full name will be Victoria. Your real mother will give you that name, will have said that to your white parents as they helped her through labor, while also helping themselves to you, your mother’s child, just as soon as the wet and life in her eyes was gone.
They will keep the name Victoria for you, but only ever call you Vicky. That they keep anything that came from your mother will be a kind of miracle, as all Indians alive past the year 1900 are kinds of miracles.
. . .
You will never know that the name Victoria also comes by way of your grandfather, Victor Bear Shield.”
It’s in the latter part of the book that the story proceeds in a more usual narrative form, following a family of characters, friends and tribal members. We get to know more about Orville Red Feather, his siblings and aunt-grandmother.
I admired the writing and the story, but I can’t honestly say I enjoyed it. I don’t mean because of the message. I loved There There and was sorry it came to such an abrupt ending. I have no excuse for getting lost and losing the thread.
I’m giving the stars for the importance of the story and the writing, while still allowing for the fact that I felt like I was missing something.
Thanks to #NetGalley and Random House UK for a copy of #WanderingStars for review.
P.S. For a particularly thoughtful, thorough review, read Kim Lockhart's here:
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
“He’d first seen laudanum advertised all different kinds of ways. As an elixir. A soothing syrup. Once he saw it called the poor child’s doctor. Another time it was advertised for teething babies.”
And so begins this story of opiates. The dedication reads:
“For anyone surviving and not surviving
this thing called and not called addiction”
Important, difficult, interesting, confusing. This is what crossed my mind as I was reading. Addiction really wasn’t one, although I realise the author is speaking of the repercussions of colonialism, which kept Indians, especially children, in controlled institutions where their customs and languages were forbidden. I learned none of this at school.
“Charles Star’s memories come and go as they please. They are a broken mirror, through which he only ever sees himself in pieces. He doesn’t know that it is true of everyone, of memory itself
. . .
He has forgotten that he has forgotten things on purpose. This is how he has hidden them away from himself. He suspects there must be something worse beneath the worst of what he knows happened to him at the school, the haircuts and the scrubbings and the marches, the beatings and starvation and confinement, the countless methods of shaming him for continuing to be an Indian despite their tireless efforts at educating and Christianizing and civilizing him.”
Nor was I taught about this.
“These kinds of events were called battles, then later— sometimes—massacres, in America’s longest war. More years at war with Indians than as a nation. Three hundred and thirteen. After all the killing and removing, scattering and rounding up of Indian people to put them on reservations, and after the buffalo population was reduced from about thirty million to a few hundred in the wild, the thinking being “’very buffalo dead is an Indian gone,’ there came another campaign-style slogan directed at the Indian problem: ‘Kill the Indian, Save the Man.’”
I think that conquerors in ancient times captured and enslaved whatever survivors there were after the last battle. As society has progressed (I use the word loosely), those who move in and take over someone else’s land, plant a flag, declare it a ‘new’ country, tend to ‘allow’ the original inhabitants to do domestic and farm work until they are ready to be assimilated into the new society (once they have learned their place, of course). Kill the Indian and save the man.
Today, not just in America but around the world, First Nations Peoples are attempting to reclaim their cultures and languages with pride. In spite of Charlie Star’s ‘broken mirror memories’, some traditions are indeed being passed down, like the dances and songs and the powwow, where performers and participants wear the regalia particular to their tribe.
Some of this was explained in the Pulitze Prize-winning first book, There There, but the family dynamics, both historically and present-day, are shown in more detail here. It is heartbreaking to watch those lost children, who are now grandparents, trying to save their own grandchildren from drugs.
It is no wonder that people turn to anything to numb the pain. What began with ceremonial peyote becomes dope, opioids, and the concoction the young people here called Blanx, because the ingredients changed according to what the supplier could get for them to mix up and sell. Life in California is not a beach for them. It sucks. Big time.
Many sections are narrated in the second person, which I found confusing. There is a good family tree in the front of the book that I referred to frequently. As with many families, people are named after each other, so I’d forget which generation was which.
“Your full name will be Victoria. Your real mother will give you that name, will have said that to your white parents as they helped her through labor, while also helping themselves to you, your mother’s child, just as soon as the wet and life in her eyes was gone.
They will keep the name Victoria for you, but only ever call you Vicky. That they keep anything that came from your mother will be a kind of miracle, as all Indians alive past the year 1900 are kinds of miracles.
. . .
You will never know that the name Victoria also comes by way of your grandfather, Victor Bear Shield.”
It’s in the latter part of the book that the story proceeds in a more usual narrative form, following a family of characters, friends and tribal members. We get to know more about Orville Red Feather, his siblings and aunt-grandmother.
I admired the writing and the story, but I can’t honestly say I enjoyed it. I don’t mean because of the message. I loved There There and was sorry it came to such an abrupt ending. I have no excuse for getting lost and losing the thread.
I’m giving the stars for the importance of the story and the writing, while still allowing for the fact that I felt like I was missing something.
Thanks to #NetGalley and Random House UK for a copy of #WanderingStars for review.
P.S. For a particularly thoughtful, thorough review, read Kim Lockhart's here:
https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
January 19, 2024
Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐
Genre: Historical Fiction + Literary Fiction
"Wandering Stars" is a book that examines the complicated history and traumatic experiences of Native American families in the United States of America. It is a multi-generational work that spans centuries and is rich in content. The novel begins with the Sand Creek Massacre in 1864 and continues up to the present day, weaving together the stories of many different characters who struggle with the repercussions of colonialism, forced assimilation, and intergenerational trauma.
At the beginning of the book, there is a terrifying event called the Sand Creek Massacre. Star, a Cheyenne warrior, is present during this event and witnesses the brutal slaughter of his people. He escapes and is imprisoned at Fort Marion, where he encounters Richard Henry Pratt, an evangelical prison guard obsessed with "civilizing" Native American people.
From that point on, we follow all of the various characters and the difficulties, challenges, and obstacles that they encounter throughout the various eras. Until now, I was completely unaware that this was a part of a series. Since I have not read "There, There," I am unsure how my evaluation of this book would have been affected if I had read that book. This writing is so lyrical and has such a beautiful quality. No matter how much I praise the author’s prose, I don't think it would do him justice.
I could tell I was going to adore this book the moment I started it. The historical portions in the first half, though, are the most interesting and impactful, in my opinion. I simply would have preferred it if the story had narrowed its focus to that period and introduced fewer characters so that I could relate to them better. I think that would have made it a five-star book for me.
There is more to Wandering Stars than just a story about adversity. Additionally, it is a demonstration of the unwavering fortitude, resiliency, and love that serve as the glue that holds the Bear Shield-Red Feather family together. The author begins this book by delving deeply into the dark history of the United States of America, specifically, the genocide that was committed against the Indians, or what we now refer to as Native Americans, and how this genocide continues to have an impact on the generations that have survived it. Not only does this matter greatly from a historical perspective, but it is also relevant to the present day because genocide is occurring elsewhere under the guise of "war" and everyone is obliviously watching as if it were a fascinating circus.
The fact that this book explores topics that some people may find unsettling and problematic makes it an extremely important piece of literature. It is necessary, however, to tell stories such as that, and we must continue to remind people of the past for them to comprehend how they should behave in the present and the future. It is imperative that everyone is aware of topics such as the legacy of colonialism and the ongoing impact it has had on Indigenous communities. Moreover, the book delves deeply into the significance of cultural identity and the difficulties of recovering it following centuries of suppression.
This is not a book to be read for entertainment purposes, but rather to understand history and empathize with the people who have endured and continue to endure great hardship and suffering.
Thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for the ARC of this book.
Genre: Historical Fiction + Literary Fiction
"Wandering Stars" is a book that examines the complicated history and traumatic experiences of Native American families in the United States of America. It is a multi-generational work that spans centuries and is rich in content. The novel begins with the Sand Creek Massacre in 1864 and continues up to the present day, weaving together the stories of many different characters who struggle with the repercussions of colonialism, forced assimilation, and intergenerational trauma.
At the beginning of the book, there is a terrifying event called the Sand Creek Massacre. Star, a Cheyenne warrior, is present during this event and witnesses the brutal slaughter of his people. He escapes and is imprisoned at Fort Marion, where he encounters Richard Henry Pratt, an evangelical prison guard obsessed with "civilizing" Native American people.
From that point on, we follow all of the various characters and the difficulties, challenges, and obstacles that they encounter throughout the various eras. Until now, I was completely unaware that this was a part of a series. Since I have not read "There, There," I am unsure how my evaluation of this book would have been affected if I had read that book. This writing is so lyrical and has such a beautiful quality. No matter how much I praise the author’s prose, I don't think it would do him justice.
I could tell I was going to adore this book the moment I started it. The historical portions in the first half, though, are the most interesting and impactful, in my opinion. I simply would have preferred it if the story had narrowed its focus to that period and introduced fewer characters so that I could relate to them better. I think that would have made it a five-star book for me.
There is more to Wandering Stars than just a story about adversity. Additionally, it is a demonstration of the unwavering fortitude, resiliency, and love that serve as the glue that holds the Bear Shield-Red Feather family together. The author begins this book by delving deeply into the dark history of the United States of America, specifically, the genocide that was committed against the Indians, or what we now refer to as Native Americans, and how this genocide continues to have an impact on the generations that have survived it. Not only does this matter greatly from a historical perspective, but it is also relevant to the present day because genocide is occurring elsewhere under the guise of "war" and everyone is obliviously watching as if it were a fascinating circus.
The fact that this book explores topics that some people may find unsettling and problematic makes it an extremely important piece of literature. It is necessary, however, to tell stories such as that, and we must continue to remind people of the past for them to comprehend how they should behave in the present and the future. It is imperative that everyone is aware of topics such as the legacy of colonialism and the ongoing impact it has had on Indigenous communities. Moreover, the book delves deeply into the significance of cultural identity and the difficulties of recovering it following centuries of suppression.
This is not a book to be read for entertainment purposes, but rather to understand history and empathize with the people who have endured and continue to endure great hardship and suffering.
Thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for the ARC of this book.
January 9, 2024
Set in two time frames and places, Colorado in 1864 and Oakland, California in 2018, this story explores the way Native Americans were treated and the effect it had on the generations that followed.
This begins, more or less, with 1864’s Sand Creek Massacre when Star is brought to the Fort Marion Prison Castle, and made to learn to speak English, as well as being forced to become a Christian and leave his culture, forget his history, and his life before. Later on, his son is made to endure the same treatment by the same man who tortured his father. His only relief comes from another young student, Opal Viola, who has dreams of a future where they will be able to live a life free from this hell.
2018, set in Oakland, California, Opal is struggling to keep her family from falling apart following a shooting that shook their family, almost losing her nephew, Orvil. He awakes in the hospital, and soon becomes obsessed, following the news of other school shootings. As his emotional trauma eats away at him, he is given more prescriptions, and soon needs them to get through the hours of the day.
This is a relatively dark story overall, although it is beautifully written, it is at times gutting to read, and it does leave quite an impact. As a multi-generational story, it covers so many important topics that are still relevant today. A story that feels true in its depiction of the impact of the horrific ways in which ‘others’ are treated.
Pub Date: 27 Feb 2024
Many thanks for the ARC provided by Knopf, Pantheon, Vintage, and Anchor, Knopf
February 27, 2024
4.5 stars
Wandering Stars is the follow up novel to Tommy Orange’s award winning book, There There. I highly recommend reading the books in order rather than attempting to do a standalone read with Wandering Stars. That way you can fully appreciate the depth of the characters and story.
The author’s books should be required reading. They provide an opportunity to learn about Native history in a more accurate light than the education I received at school as a kid growing up in the 80s and 90s.
I’ll try to tiptoe around spoilers for those who haven’t read There There yet but Wandering Stars shows what happened to some of the characters who attended the Big Oakland Powwow. It also goes back to the 1800s and features some of the ancestors of the current day characters. It really drives home the point how a person is shaped by previous generations and the horrific treatment of Natives by the US government and its people continues to impact the descendants.
Addiction is a topic that is thoroughly explored in this book and yet another thing that gives it substance. Both books are important reads and I highly recommend checking them out.
Thank you Knopf for providing a free advance copy! All thoughts expressed are my honest opinion.
Wandering Stars is the follow up novel to Tommy Orange’s award winning book, There There. I highly recommend reading the books in order rather than attempting to do a standalone read with Wandering Stars. That way you can fully appreciate the depth of the characters and story.
The author’s books should be required reading. They provide an opportunity to learn about Native history in a more accurate light than the education I received at school as a kid growing up in the 80s and 90s.
I’ll try to tiptoe around spoilers for those who haven’t read There There yet but Wandering Stars shows what happened to some of the characters who attended the Big Oakland Powwow. It also goes back to the 1800s and features some of the ancestors of the current day characters. It really drives home the point how a person is shaped by previous generations and the horrific treatment of Natives by the US government and its people continues to impact the descendants.
Addiction is a topic that is thoroughly explored in this book and yet another thing that gives it substance. Both books are important reads and I highly recommend checking them out.
Thank you Knopf for providing a free advance copy! All thoughts expressed are my honest opinion.
June 20, 2024
I read There, There not long after it came out in 2018 and it's lived in my head ever since as one of those exceptional debuts that really made a big impact. This is the long awaited second novel from Tommy Orange coming out earlier this year, and I've sort of put it off for no particular reason until now. I will say, it has many of the same elements I loved in Orange's debut (great sentence-level writing, vivid characters, and compelling narrative) but packaged in a somewhat different structure.
The book's first 1/3 or so is historical fiction—and I loved it! It's set around 1864 when the Sand Creek Massacre occurred. I hope Orange continues to explore historical fiction because truthfully, that whole section could have been its own book and expanded on, and I'd have gladly read 300+ pages of it! We follow a character named Jude Star whose descendants we meet in There, There. Then in the back half of this book we jump in time to the events after There, There and follow some of the familiar characters as they unpack what the trauma of the previous novel has done in their lives.
It's a sort of prequel and sequel simultaneously which is an interesting idea and one I don't think I've ever read before, but not one either that I think particularly worked for me. I've seen other reviewers say that the two parts of the book should have been separate books in a sort of loose trilogy, and I completely agree. It's not that I didn't like either part; I really enjoyed both for the most part (though the 2nd half felt more dragged out and meandering where the historical bits had a clear linear focus I appreciated). But there just wasn't enough connection beyond genealogy/lineage to draw the two halves of the story together for me. Bits felt unresolved, and I think the concepts he's exploring of generational trauma, epigenetic trauma even, were fascinating, but the book felt like it sort of faded out in the end.
I think this could be read without reading There, There but shouldn't be. You will be missing a lot of the emotional context that I think this book lacked because it relied on you having that knowledge from its predecessor.
I am interested to see what Orange does next. I would love for him to write a short story collection because in a way, his first 2 novels have been that, but attempting to tell a larger story. But I think his strength lies in his strong voice and character work, not plot, so I'd love to read something a bit more tightly focused like short fiction from him.
The book's first 1/3 or so is historical fiction—and I loved it! It's set around 1864 when the Sand Creek Massacre occurred. I hope Orange continues to explore historical fiction because truthfully, that whole section could have been its own book and expanded on, and I'd have gladly read 300+ pages of it! We follow a character named Jude Star whose descendants we meet in There, There. Then in the back half of this book we jump in time to the events after There, There and follow some of the familiar characters as they unpack what the trauma of the previous novel has done in their lives.
It's a sort of prequel and sequel simultaneously which is an interesting idea and one I don't think I've ever read before, but not one either that I think particularly worked for me. I've seen other reviewers say that the two parts of the book should have been separate books in a sort of loose trilogy, and I completely agree. It's not that I didn't like either part; I really enjoyed both for the most part (though the 2nd half felt more dragged out and meandering where the historical bits had a clear linear focus I appreciated). But there just wasn't enough connection beyond genealogy/lineage to draw the two halves of the story together for me. Bits felt unresolved, and I think the concepts he's exploring of generational trauma, epigenetic trauma even, were fascinating, but the book felt like it sort of faded out in the end.
I think this could be read without reading There, There but shouldn't be. You will be missing a lot of the emotional context that I think this book lacked because it relied on you having that knowledge from its predecessor.
I am interested to see what Orange does next. I would love for him to write a short story collection because in a way, his first 2 novels have been that, but attempting to tell a larger story. But I think his strength lies in his strong voice and character work, not plot, so I'd love to read something a bit more tightly focused like short fiction from him.
February 22, 2024
Tommy Orange is an extremely skilled writer. There are moments and sentences of emotional connection in this book that are so wonderful. Some great imagery. He also has some incredibly smart social commentary and biting observations and musings. I loved reading that. The pacing in the novel was a little slow in spots and too fast in others, it wasn't quite right. I also think the book moves into a preciousness that I really didn't care for. The middle third was really my favorite stuff.
January 11, 2024
Five years ago, after reading Tommy Orange's There There, I had the pleasure of meeting him at a reading. This was before his book became a "thing," an award winner, a Pulitzer finalist, a huge best seller. The place was packed. He had a deer-in-the-headlights quality to him, amazed that more than the dozen or so indigenous readers he'd expected would find his book important enough to spend time with. In subsequent interviews, he has gained confidence and poise, acquired a richness of purpose that shines through in this, his sophomore follow-up.
Tracing the family first presented in There There, Wandering Stars begins with an 19th century massacre, continues with lives of survivors and brings to light the colonizing atrocities perpetuated on the Cheyenne by the U.S. government. Orange's research is impeccable. The balance of the book returns to present day Oakland, following the events described in the previous one, and the descendants of those earlier Cheyenne are trying to cope with the fallout. Central to the story are the recovery efforts of Orvil and his aunt Opal's working to keep her family together despite the infiltration of opioids into their lives as well as the PTSD being experienced by Orvil's younger brother. Operating from several different viewpoints, sometimes even employing the first person, giving this a more introspective quality, Orange's beautiful prose highlights what is truly a wonderful masterwork.
Tracing the family first presented in There There, Wandering Stars begins with an 19th century massacre, continues with lives of survivors and brings to light the colonizing atrocities perpetuated on the Cheyenne by the U.S. government. Orange's research is impeccable. The balance of the book returns to present day Oakland, following the events described in the previous one, and the descendants of those earlier Cheyenne are trying to cope with the fallout. Central to the story are the recovery efforts of Orvil and his aunt Opal's working to keep her family together despite the infiltration of opioids into their lives as well as the PTSD being experienced by Orvil's younger brother. Operating from several different viewpoints, sometimes even employing the first person, giving this a more introspective quality, Orange's beautiful prose highlights what is truly a wonderful masterwork.
May 30, 2024
So this was not for me.
Wandering, yes lots of that. The first part I think was to show history of the Star family and the horrendous treatment the native Americans were put through. The writing, rambling, no flow, different perspective written in the same paragraphs. Just extremely hard to follow.
Second part, 2018, victim of shooting, still think we are following the family line but very unclear. Adds in opioid crisis to the family list of misadventures.
Spent more than a reasonable amount of time rereading trying to figure out if I missed something or if it just wasn’t clear to begin with. Still not really sure of the entire purpose because again things were not clear, may be the intended purpose. Just was not enjoyable for myself.
Thanks to Netgalley for my electronic advanced reader copy in exchange for my honest review. All opinions are my own.
Wandering, yes lots of that. The first part I think was to show history of the Star family and the horrendous treatment the native Americans were put through. The writing, rambling, no flow, different perspective written in the same paragraphs. Just extremely hard to follow.
Second part, 2018, victim of shooting, still think we are following the family line but very unclear. Adds in opioid crisis to the family list of misadventures.
Spent more than a reasonable amount of time rereading trying to figure out if I missed something or if it just wasn’t clear to begin with. Still not really sure of the entire purpose because again things were not clear, may be the intended purpose. Just was not enjoyable for myself.
Thanks to Netgalley for my electronic advanced reader copy in exchange for my honest review. All opinions are my own.
February 27, 2024
If Wandering Stars has caught your attention, and by all means, it absolutely should, please, please, please make sure you read There, There first. While not called a sequel, storylines from beloved characters continue, and you cannot read one without the other and get the full experience.
A constellation of narratives, just like a constellation of stars, Wandering Stars digs into the past and future of these characters. It’s an exploration of colonial atrocities, including institutions like the Carlisle Indian School, committed by the US government on the Cheyenne and other indigenous people.
Wandering Stars is also an exploration of addiction and recovery, as well as PTSD and “othering.” It’s a story of intergenerational trauma, and one that may need to be read slowly, thoroughly digesting the characters’ experiences in their rawest form.
I was invested fully and had been eagerly awaiting this follow-up. These are just some of my scattered thoughts. Important, urgently so, powerful, brutal, emotional, raw, and masterful.
Thank you to Knopf for the free copy of the book.
Many of my reviews can also be found on my blog: www.jennifertarheelreader.com and instagram: www.instagram.com/tarheelreader
A constellation of narratives, just like a constellation of stars, Wandering Stars digs into the past and future of these characters. It’s an exploration of colonial atrocities, including institutions like the Carlisle Indian School, committed by the US government on the Cheyenne and other indigenous people.
Wandering Stars is also an exploration of addiction and recovery, as well as PTSD and “othering.” It’s a story of intergenerational trauma, and one that may need to be read slowly, thoroughly digesting the characters’ experiences in their rawest form.
I was invested fully and had been eagerly awaiting this follow-up. These are just some of my scattered thoughts. Important, urgently so, powerful, brutal, emotional, raw, and masterful.
Thank you to Knopf for the free copy of the book.
Many of my reviews can also be found on my blog: www.jennifertarheelreader.com and instagram: www.instagram.com/tarheelreader
March 4, 2024
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 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.
• 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 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.
April 1, 2024
I read There There last month, it was an amazing introduction to the author so I knew I had to read this too. I opted for the audiobook, the narrators did an excellent job this time around too.
While I liked the first book a smidge better, I still had such a good time listening to this. I just love how Tommy Orange writes, and how beautifully his style comes across, even through audio.
I also loved seeing familiar faces from book one, their pasts and futures. It gets jumpy timeline wise (again), so I'd suggest you read There There first so you'll be more used to it, and the characters will be easier to follow. You don't have to read it though, you could just start with this one if you so wish, but it's a brilliant book so you definitely should give it a try at some point.
The history woven in is difficult to read at times, but I appreciate it so much. It's expertly done, in a way that doesn't distract from the story, while educating the reader & walking them through the pain all the same.
Books like this one are so important and need to be in all schools around the world (and especially in the US). I'd wholeheartedly recommend both this and There There to anyone and everyone.
While I liked the first book a smidge better, I still had such a good time listening to this. I just love how Tommy Orange writes, and how beautifully his style comes across, even through audio.
I also loved seeing familiar faces from book one, their pasts and futures. It gets jumpy timeline wise (again), so I'd suggest you read There There first so you'll be more used to it, and the characters will be easier to follow. You don't have to read it though, you could just start with this one if you so wish, but it's a brilliant book so you definitely should give it a try at some point.
The history woven in is difficult to read at times, but I appreciate it so much. It's expertly done, in a way that doesn't distract from the story, while educating the reader & walking them through the pain all the same.
Books like this one are so important and need to be in all schools around the world (and especially in the US). I'd wholeheartedly recommend both this and There There to anyone and everyone.
March 17, 2024
All the Indian children who were ever Indian children never stopped being Indian children, and went on to have not nits but Indian children, whose Indian children went on to have Indian children, whose Indian children became American Indians, whose American Indian children became Native Americans, whose Native American children would call themselves Natives, or Indigenous, or NDNS, or the names of their sovereign nations, or the names of their tribes, and all too often would be told they weren’t the right kind of Indians to be considered real ones by too many Americans taught in schools their whole lives that the only real kinds of Indians were those long-gone Thanksgiving Indians who loved the Pilgrims as if to death.
Honestly, one of the best books I have ever read. I worried Orange could not match the brilliance of There There. It turns out he topped that book. This is being billed as a sequel to There There, but mostly it is not exactly that. Parts are both sequel and prequel to the last book. There there had such a clear plot, but this, not so much. This is a bigger picture look at how Indgenous Americans started and got to where they are now than it is any sort of There There series book.
Certainly a lot of the specific events are set in motion by the events of the Powwow in There There, but also it becomes clear that event is part of a chain of events, really indistinguishable from a chain of events that have been happening since Europeans landed on American shores. The nonlinearity of this book is one of its strengths, much of this is manic and uncomfortable, and that feels right. This approach to illustrating the abnegation and extermination of Indigenous American culture, and also, of course, of Indigenous Americans should not be linear, and it certainly should not be comfortable. I was surprised to find it had a bittersweet but hopeful ending. Every living thing needs to adapt to survive, but as long as we don't allow that adaptation to disappear us there is hope for survival. This is a a book about survivors, who hold on to their essence against all odds. but who also lose many very important connections to things and people no matter how hard they fight.
I read a lot so some books, even ones I enjoy a great deal, are mostly forgotten. That is okay. Forgetting plots or characters does not mean I did not retain things of value from those reads. But though that forgetting does not bother me, reading a book like this that I know will stay with me, likely forever, is an experience beyond those others, and is truly a privilege.
I listened to the audiobook but also got the Kindle so I could go back and read sections. That worked well for me. This was read by several narrators, and I thought all but one were very good, and even that one was adequate. The language here though is so often perfect and utterly unexpected that I wanted to spend more time with it than audiobooks allows. If you are a fan of great prose make sure to read this in print, or at least do as I did and give yourself access to the print version even if you listen to most of this.
May 7, 2024
Only now, after reading other reviews, do I realize that Tommy Orange’s Wandering Stars is a pair to his 2018 debut, There, There. Do not let this stop you from picking up this book if, like me, you have not taken the opportunity to read There, There. I found Wandering Stars worked wonderfully as a stand alone.
Wandering Stars is a profound exploration into the tragic history of Native American life, skillfully interwoven with the fraught past and a turbulent present. Opening in the immediate aftermath of the 1864 Sand Creek Massacre, the narrative introduces Jude Star, enduring harsh assimilation policies at Fort Marion Prison Castle, setting themes of trauma, identity, and resilience. As the saga unfolds, it traces the scars passed down through generations to Opal Viola Victoria Bear Shield and her nephew Orvil in 2018 Oakland, whose struggles against cultural genocide are depicted with compelling depth. Orange's narrative is both vivid and immersive, marked by his poetic prose and deep character development. We bear witness to a cycle of historical violence and the resilient quest for healing. Wandering Stars is a testament to the endurance of spirit and the profound strength required not just to survive but to reclaim identity against the erasure of time and policy.
As I unintentionally skipped There, There, I will be going back to read it and enrich my enjoyment of both of Orange’s rich and real stories.
Thanks to Netgalley, Knopf, Pantheon, Vintage, and Anchor, and Tommy Orange for the advanced copy in exchange for an honest review.
Wandering Stars is a profound exploration into the tragic history of Native American life, skillfully interwoven with the fraught past and a turbulent present. Opening in the immediate aftermath of the 1864 Sand Creek Massacre, the narrative introduces Jude Star, enduring harsh assimilation policies at Fort Marion Prison Castle, setting themes of trauma, identity, and resilience. As the saga unfolds, it traces the scars passed down through generations to Opal Viola Victoria Bear Shield and her nephew Orvil in 2018 Oakland, whose struggles against cultural genocide are depicted with compelling depth. Orange's narrative is both vivid and immersive, marked by his poetic prose and deep character development. We bear witness to a cycle of historical violence and the resilient quest for healing. Wandering Stars is a testament to the endurance of spirit and the profound strength required not just to survive but to reclaim identity against the erasure of time and policy.
As I unintentionally skipped There, There, I will be going back to read it and enrich my enjoyment of both of Orange’s rich and real stories.
Thanks to Netgalley, Knopf, Pantheon, Vintage, and Anchor, and Tommy Orange for the advanced copy in exchange for an honest review.
May 19, 2024
Tommy Orange brings a freshness to the generational history saga. His characters all struggle with the persecutions, tragedies and mysteries of their Cheyenne heritage. His ungrammatical sentences often perform loops. Addiction is a central theme so these loops acquire a depth of meaning as they form an integral part of the novel's structure. In fact, towards the end he writes: Every day is a loop. Every day is the sun rising, and the sun going down, and the sleep we must sleep. Every day is life convincing us it's not a loop. Addiction is that way too." There's a lot of what feels like hard earned wisdom in this novel and I found it an enriching read.
February 26, 2024
This novel is extraordinary. I have chosen it as one of my top 2024 reads of the year. I already loved Tommy Orange, so no one had to sell me on his work. I didn't even read a blurb about the new novel, because I already knew going in, that it would be exceptional, and that I would learn about Indigenous history, culture, and practice, all the joys and pain wrapped up in those experiences. If you have read Brandon Hobson, Louise Erdrich, or Leanne Betasamosake Simpson, you'll want to add Tommy Orange to that pantheon of writers, if you have not already.
A note of advice: It may be helpful to the e-book reader to do a screenshot of the family tree at the beginning of the book, especially since names are honored (repeated) throughout generations. Also, not necessary, but it might be a good idea to read (or reread) THERE THERE, before reading WANDERING STARS, because there are characters which inhabit both stories.
I do pay attention to epigraphs, and this one is illuminating. The reader is immediately immersed in the blood-soaked history of the savages. And by *savages*, I mean the invaders of this land. Calling them "colonists" is too quaint. It had never occurred to me that the fight between the nation of the United States against the many nations of the North American continent's Indigenous peoples, could easily be considered America's longest, and most brutal, war. Seeing it from the First Nations' perspective makes it even more palpable.
Even the word *removal* takes on a bitter and devastating meaning. The worst scars of removal have been the abduction of Indigenous children into the harrowing experiences of residential schools, where they were abused and traumatized, if they survived at all. And then there are the stories we have never heard. We know of the massacres, the decimation of the buffalo, and the Trail of Tears, but did we know about the members of different tribes forcibly removed from Oklahoma, to a star-shaped prison in, of all places, Florida? The prisoners were gawked at by white visitors who came to see them, not just out of curiosity, but also, perhaps surprisingly, to buy their art.
Their prison was a kind of laboratory, for their warden to discern how to organize and run the residential schools, which opened after this experiment, and how best to punish parents who actively resisted sending their children to them.
Orange connects his previous novel THERE THERE to WANDERING STARS, with the mention of the protest takeover of Alcatraz. It's a wider aperture that he opens up, a kind of exercise to prime the reader to see even more lines of connection throughout history.
An age-old practice of self-described conquerors was to attempt to destroy the people by killing their culture. It's still happening today all over the world. All those Ukrainian children, kidnapped and placed with Russian families, forced to adopt a new language, and to consume and repeat the obvious propaganda of their captors. It's eerily similar. In the residential schools, Indigenous children were essentially prisoners of a war constantly renewed against them. Devastatingly, the focus was on negative reinforcement, not because it was more effective (it wasn't) but because violence against the children made those who ran the schools feel powerful. In nearly all situations, complete and unquestioned power of a person over others, results in horrific abuse.
All of this is to reaffirm the truth that "the past is prologue."
The actual story begins with Jude Star, and we might think that the title refers to the Star extended family, the bird's eye view from far above among the stars (a metaphor for looking back through time), and/or to the star-shaped prison which shaped the time after it. All symbols have more than one meaning. Jude is a survivor, who as a child, escaped the murder of everyone he knew. I did not know anything about the Sand Creek massacre, but it's easy to see how it was a line of demarcation for Jude's life. He is highly introspective, about everything that he sees and experiences and imagines. Jude reflects upon how memories (even intergenerational trauma) are not only buried within us, but also buried in the land itself. The land remembers. The implication is that one's true sense of self can also be buried and protected within us, and then resurrected at the right time.
The description of this first wandering is somehow both raw and dreamlike, that sense of unreality that hard-edged lived experience can create. It feels like a spiritual test. Even extreme difficulties are expressed poetically by the author. This surprised me, not because I didn't think Orange was a talented writer, but because I had thought of him as a more straightforward storyteller, based on the writing style in THERE THERE. This is some beautiful prose.
I was also heartened by the intelligent observations of the author. For instance, he notes the incredible irony of teaching prisoners about the promises of liberation in Isaiah. It is in the Bible that we finally learn yet another meaning of wandering stars, a reference to Jude 1:13
𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙖, 𝙛𝙤𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙪𝙥 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙢𝙚; 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙤𝙢 𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧.
We may be pretty sure that the descendants are not going to be having an easy time of it. Jude, more than any character in the story, is able to connect with spirituality of all kinds. He sees beyond. He sees patterns and connections. The parallels in ancient stories and beliefs are astounding, and the ones outlined here are illuminating, to us and to him. When he is cajoled into a performance of his own identity and culture in a minstrel-like setting, we think he will balk, but he doesn't. He knows what actions mean something, and which ones don't. Even when these prisoners are prompted to perform as a parody of themselves, they never seem to lose their sense of self. They know how to tuck the vital essence of themselves deep where no white man can take it away. The one thing a repressive government fears most, is hope.
The author primes the readers to open their minds to a different perspective on many stereotypes about Indigenous peoples. Most especially, Orange's take on addiction is different, and more spiritual in origin, than we tend to think. I always figured that the trauma of having so much stolen from you would drive you to drink, so you'd feel less. But, Jude here has a very different set of reasons. He's looking for something he's lost, almost like a form of divination. We think of vision quests as the sole proprietary of the Indigenous, the spiritual, those tied less to the temporal world, but maybe the rest of us are just too stubborn to tap into that part of us. Jude finds a new way of burying himself: he learns he can change who he is on the outside, and tuck his full authentic self into hidden inner holes.
There are many interludes, those liminal spaces in between the ordinary events of life, when the story makes the reader feel askew. The eeriest of those strange moments for me was the description of a rare animal and its rider. The details harkened exactly to a character in a story I'd read from another author, placed in the late 19th century Arizona territories. It felt like a ghost crossing my path. I've never felt anything like it in my life. I would ask the author about it, if I could, but it wouldn't change that peculiar feeling where for a moment you aren't sure what it real and what is fictional. This very strange sight is an omen for Jude, and it bisects his life again, another crossroads. Does he wonder how many dramatic splits between past and future he will endure? We consider this question in light of the eternally searching life of his son, Charles.
Charles Star has inherited some of his father's tendency to break into a fragmented sense of self, a loss of balance.
The author imbues each of his characters with a remarkably introspective nature, with emphasis on elusive memory and repeated attempts at unresolvable reflection. He presents memory as a thing viewed indirectly, and never distinctly. For Charles, the fuzziness of his memories' edges may be his mind protecting him. Unlike his father, he may have more to forget. His addiction helps with the forgetting of details, but not the forgetting of feelings. He is clearly a haunted soul. He thinks he is hunting answers, but instead there is a ravenous wolf of memory hunting him. His opium habit both helps him cope, and exacerbates his tetherlessness. In careful brushstrokes, the picture of a man pulling himself apart in two directions at once, begins to emerge. This image is not just borne of the laudanum, but also from the foot in each world of his half white/half Indigenous identity. What people see on the outside is never the whole story. Charles has been trying to write the story of himself, but at the same time, pushing towards a vanishing of self. In the end, only one of these forces can win.
The first Opal is also the first character I have hope for. I have a heart for them all, but not hope for them all. Perhaps my hope will be fulfilled by Opal's child, I think, as I read.
(First) Opal's daughter, Victoria (Vicky) is the most adrift, in terms of identity, than any previous character. Vicki is also the one who tries hardest to understand who she is and the people to whom she belongs. She discovers that there is a kind of inheritance which is written into you, how people are made of stories. Those connections, once found, have a tonal quality, like a unique piece of music. It is beyond understanding, this blend of ancestral belonging, tradition, and meaning, which she has done her best to knit into her daughters, a legacy which seems so big and impossible that it sets the younger daughter, Opal (named after her grandmother, in the matrilineal tradition) into running flight, as if she wants to tap into her great grandfather's bird's eye view.
As a kind of parallel to fractures and tempest, we are suddenly thrust forward into the future, with the story of Orvil. We are pretty sure we haven't seen the last of Opal and her sister Jacquie, daughters of Vicky, and this turns out to be right. Fortunately, Orvil is fascinating.
We return again and again to the importance of stories, that and stardust from which people are made. The nature of stories is that you can never get high enough above them to grasp everything that they mean. Such is the dilemma of Orvil, in the modern world. Does he know that this is the new story speaking to the old? And does he know that the shadow he keeps feeling, the one that makes him feel hunted, is the echo of the unseen wolf that plagued his ancestors, and led to their addictions? He doesn't take the pain pills to dissociate. He already feels a strangely vague deja vu about the bullet that opened a hole in him, connecting him to something or someone he isn't sure he wants to let through. He doesn't realize that his injury has opened up a conduit to the past, a surreal, violent, and nightmarish set of memories connecting him to his forbears.
We are also introduced to another modern character, Sean, who reminds us a bit of both Charles Star and Vicky, but for different reasons. Sean is another young man who, like Orvil, is dealing with drug dependence. Add to that the challenges of being a brown kid adopted by a white family and you see Sean has an uphill climb. He has also evolved a social consciousness which sets him apart even more from the dudebros in his neighborhood. It's one thing not to fit in, but to stand out in so many ways at once is incredibly challenging. With too many of the worst things in common, Orvil and Sean are soon to be friends.
I did have to refer back to the family tree at the halfway point of the book. There seem to be lines of connection and care as well as ties of addiction. It makes perfect sense that Opal's granddaughter would take on the responsibility to care for Jacquie's grandsons. The Opals of this family are the stalwarts, the North Stars of the family line. We may be momentarily intrigued by the matrilineal nature of the indigenous family structure, until it hits us that it works similarly in patrilineal systems, too, especially in the obligations of family. Opal Viola Victoria Bear Shield, like her grandmother before her, tries diligently to provide a foundation, a physical and emotional home base that everyone can count on.
Opal might have been successful, too. But just as for Jude Star, another repeated element is the ceremony gone wrong. The first was the Peyote service of healing, outlawed and violently shut down by the government. Its echo is found in the powwow. Just as in THERE THERE, the powwow is both deeply meaningful, and the site of invasive tragedy. It's a microcosmic reflection of outside forces trying to shatter the lives of First Nations, for generations. The thing about a shattered life, is that you can't put it quite back together the way it was. There is a before the precipitating event and an after, a big pile of sharp-edged fragments. Orvil shoves his pile of broken pieces into a corner of a tight place within himself.
Orvil's attempted healing odyssey brings up a question for each of us: is our ancient culture, and the key to our authenticity, locked up somewhere in our DNA? And if so, how do we go about finding it? Everyone wants to know who they are, which requires knowing who they've been, back through centuries. We return to the idea of stories, because we are made of so many.
After the doomed powwow, Orvil sees birds even when they might not be there, and always through windows. Orvil sees a bird's life as a metaphor for his own. He thinks how a bird can mistake the reflection in a window as just being more sky. If the birds represent freedom (dating back to the original Bird Woman) than this is another iteration of how he feels trapped. And what does it mean if the bird dies, looking at him? Is it the death of his freedom, the end of control over his own life?
More and more painkillers can easily feel like a solution for emotional as well as physical pain, when sometimes they just create more problems, and not just the possibility of addiction. Opiods can thin the veil between the conscious and the subconscious, allowing too much to bleed through in both directions. This is the greatest problem for Orvil, who is especially susceptible to the ancestral pull. Another thing these modern-day characters think about a lot, is time: can you manipulate it? Is it ever too late, like the time to make things right has closed like a window? Jacquie, Opal's sister, is carefully stepping into sobriety, which often seems like a closed pathway, but one she is determined to walk.
The overlap between THERE THERE and this novel was dizzying, and quite a moment, when I realized that this is a different perspective on the tragedy in the first book, and that Jacquie and Orvil were there. I was especially glad to find out more about Orvil's brothers.
Lony, one of Orvil's two brothers, has a connection to the spiritual thread in the family. He has a sincere wishing kind of faith in the power of Native Americans. Loother is the brother who is a keen observer. Everything in his environment seems oversatured with detail. He can sense who people really are, behind the masks they present to the world. As a result, he must always be his true self, his only protection being his silence. He is so overstuffed with emotion that he needs to express himself, and luckily, he finds that it is easier to control the trajectory of written language than spoken language. Loother is the keeper of culture. He earnestly sidesteps any cultural appropriation, which positions him perfectly to be the keeper of stories.
Nearing the end of this story, it's clear that Sean, Orvil, and Lony, are dangerously vulnerable. Each has tried to cope with the constant feeling of chasing after, and being chased by, something they can't explain. They try to flee, to fly away from this relentless inner force, but how do you escape something inside of you, something that feels like it's trying to consume you from the inside?
Some people don't survive their addictions. Others make it and even transition to the incredibly difficult work of recovery, which becomes their new habit. It never stops feeling like running uphill. And there has to be a replacement for the addictive behavior, something like intense exercise, or working to perfect a new skill, something that takes time, effort, and occupation.
The addict is always an addict. That part doesn't change. It's whether they are using (or being used up) that is the variable. There is a lot to learn and relearn, most especially, how to navigate emotions. Moving from standing on shifting sand, to building a foundation worth standing on, is especially resonant for Native Americans. Stories are buried everywhere in this land, waiting to be discovered and honored.
I am blown away by this story, the characters, the symbolism, every detail of this book. It felt a lot like reading someone's diary, and feeling honored to have read it.
Thank you to NetGalley and to Alfred A. Knopf publishing, a division of Penguin Random House, for granting an early copy of this amazing novel for review.
A note of advice: It may be helpful to the e-book reader to do a screenshot of the family tree at the beginning of the book, especially since names are honored (repeated) throughout generations. Also, not necessary, but it might be a good idea to read (or reread) THERE THERE, before reading WANDERING STARS, because there are characters which inhabit both stories.
I do pay attention to epigraphs, and this one is illuminating. The reader is immediately immersed in the blood-soaked history of the savages. And by *savages*, I mean the invaders of this land. Calling them "colonists" is too quaint. It had never occurred to me that the fight between the nation of the United States against the many nations of the North American continent's Indigenous peoples, could easily be considered America's longest, and most brutal, war. Seeing it from the First Nations' perspective makes it even more palpable.
Even the word *removal* takes on a bitter and devastating meaning. The worst scars of removal have been the abduction of Indigenous children into the harrowing experiences of residential schools, where they were abused and traumatized, if they survived at all. And then there are the stories we have never heard. We know of the massacres, the decimation of the buffalo, and the Trail of Tears, but did we know about the members of different tribes forcibly removed from Oklahoma, to a star-shaped prison in, of all places, Florida? The prisoners were gawked at by white visitors who came to see them, not just out of curiosity, but also, perhaps surprisingly, to buy their art.
Their prison was a kind of laboratory, for their warden to discern how to organize and run the residential schools, which opened after this experiment, and how best to punish parents who actively resisted sending their children to them.
Orange connects his previous novel THERE THERE to WANDERING STARS, with the mention of the protest takeover of Alcatraz. It's a wider aperture that he opens up, a kind of exercise to prime the reader to see even more lines of connection throughout history.
An age-old practice of self-described conquerors was to attempt to destroy the people by killing their culture. It's still happening today all over the world. All those Ukrainian children, kidnapped and placed with Russian families, forced to adopt a new language, and to consume and repeat the obvious propaganda of their captors. It's eerily similar. In the residential schools, Indigenous children were essentially prisoners of a war constantly renewed against them. Devastatingly, the focus was on negative reinforcement, not because it was more effective (it wasn't) but because violence against the children made those who ran the schools feel powerful. In nearly all situations, complete and unquestioned power of a person over others, results in horrific abuse.
All of this is to reaffirm the truth that "the past is prologue."
The actual story begins with Jude Star, and we might think that the title refers to the Star extended family, the bird's eye view from far above among the stars (a metaphor for looking back through time), and/or to the star-shaped prison which shaped the time after it. All symbols have more than one meaning. Jude is a survivor, who as a child, escaped the murder of everyone he knew. I did not know anything about the Sand Creek massacre, but it's easy to see how it was a line of demarcation for Jude's life. He is highly introspective, about everything that he sees and experiences and imagines. Jude reflects upon how memories (even intergenerational trauma) are not only buried within us, but also buried in the land itself. The land remembers. The implication is that one's true sense of self can also be buried and protected within us, and then resurrected at the right time.
The description of this first wandering is somehow both raw and dreamlike, that sense of unreality that hard-edged lived experience can create. It feels like a spiritual test. Even extreme difficulties are expressed poetically by the author. This surprised me, not because I didn't think Orange was a talented writer, but because I had thought of him as a more straightforward storyteller, based on the writing style in THERE THERE. This is some beautiful prose.
I was also heartened by the intelligent observations of the author. For instance, he notes the incredible irony of teaching prisoners about the promises of liberation in Isaiah. It is in the Bible that we finally learn yet another meaning of wandering stars, a reference to Jude 1:13
𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙚𝙖, 𝙛𝙤𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙪𝙥 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙢𝙚; 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙬𝙝𝙤𝙢 𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧.
We may be pretty sure that the descendants are not going to be having an easy time of it. Jude, more than any character in the story, is able to connect with spirituality of all kinds. He sees beyond. He sees patterns and connections. The parallels in ancient stories and beliefs are astounding, and the ones outlined here are illuminating, to us and to him. When he is cajoled into a performance of his own identity and culture in a minstrel-like setting, we think he will balk, but he doesn't. He knows what actions mean something, and which ones don't. Even when these prisoners are prompted to perform as a parody of themselves, they never seem to lose their sense of self. They know how to tuck the vital essence of themselves deep where no white man can take it away. The one thing a repressive government fears most, is hope.
The author primes the readers to open their minds to a different perspective on many stereotypes about Indigenous peoples. Most especially, Orange's take on addiction is different, and more spiritual in origin, than we tend to think. I always figured that the trauma of having so much stolen from you would drive you to drink, so you'd feel less. But, Jude here has a very different set of reasons. He's looking for something he's lost, almost like a form of divination. We think of vision quests as the sole proprietary of the Indigenous, the spiritual, those tied less to the temporal world, but maybe the rest of us are just too stubborn to tap into that part of us. Jude finds a new way of burying himself: he learns he can change who he is on the outside, and tuck his full authentic self into hidden inner holes.
There are many interludes, those liminal spaces in between the ordinary events of life, when the story makes the reader feel askew. The eeriest of those strange moments for me was the description of a rare animal and its rider. The details harkened exactly to a character in a story I'd read from another author, placed in the late 19th century Arizona territories. It felt like a ghost crossing my path. I've never felt anything like it in my life. I would ask the author about it, if I could, but it wouldn't change that peculiar feeling where for a moment you aren't sure what it real and what is fictional. This very strange sight is an omen for Jude, and it bisects his life again, another crossroads. Does he wonder how many dramatic splits between past and future he will endure? We consider this question in light of the eternally searching life of his son, Charles.
Charles Star has inherited some of his father's tendency to break into a fragmented sense of self, a loss of balance.
The author imbues each of his characters with a remarkably introspective nature, with emphasis on elusive memory and repeated attempts at unresolvable reflection. He presents memory as a thing viewed indirectly, and never distinctly. For Charles, the fuzziness of his memories' edges may be his mind protecting him. Unlike his father, he may have more to forget. His addiction helps with the forgetting of details, but not the forgetting of feelings. He is clearly a haunted soul. He thinks he is hunting answers, but instead there is a ravenous wolf of memory hunting him. His opium habit both helps him cope, and exacerbates his tetherlessness. In careful brushstrokes, the picture of a man pulling himself apart in two directions at once, begins to emerge. This image is not just borne of the laudanum, but also from the foot in each world of his half white/half Indigenous identity. What people see on the outside is never the whole story. Charles has been trying to write the story of himself, but at the same time, pushing towards a vanishing of self. In the end, only one of these forces can win.
The first Opal is also the first character I have hope for. I have a heart for them all, but not hope for them all. Perhaps my hope will be fulfilled by Opal's child, I think, as I read.
(First) Opal's daughter, Victoria (Vicky) is the most adrift, in terms of identity, than any previous character. Vicki is also the one who tries hardest to understand who she is and the people to whom she belongs. She discovers that there is a kind of inheritance which is written into you, how people are made of stories. Those connections, once found, have a tonal quality, like a unique piece of music. It is beyond understanding, this blend of ancestral belonging, tradition, and meaning, which she has done her best to knit into her daughters, a legacy which seems so big and impossible that it sets the younger daughter, Opal (named after her grandmother, in the matrilineal tradition) into running flight, as if she wants to tap into her great grandfather's bird's eye view.
As a kind of parallel to fractures and tempest, we are suddenly thrust forward into the future, with the story of Orvil. We are pretty sure we haven't seen the last of Opal and her sister Jacquie, daughters of Vicky, and this turns out to be right. Fortunately, Orvil is fascinating.
We return again and again to the importance of stories, that and stardust from which people are made. The nature of stories is that you can never get high enough above them to grasp everything that they mean. Such is the dilemma of Orvil, in the modern world. Does he know that this is the new story speaking to the old? And does he know that the shadow he keeps feeling, the one that makes him feel hunted, is the echo of the unseen wolf that plagued his ancestors, and led to their addictions? He doesn't take the pain pills to dissociate. He already feels a strangely vague deja vu about the bullet that opened a hole in him, connecting him to something or someone he isn't sure he wants to let through. He doesn't realize that his injury has opened up a conduit to the past, a surreal, violent, and nightmarish set of memories connecting him to his forbears.
We are also introduced to another modern character, Sean, who reminds us a bit of both Charles Star and Vicky, but for different reasons. Sean is another young man who, like Orvil, is dealing with drug dependence. Add to that the challenges of being a brown kid adopted by a white family and you see Sean has an uphill climb. He has also evolved a social consciousness which sets him apart even more from the dudebros in his neighborhood. It's one thing not to fit in, but to stand out in so many ways at once is incredibly challenging. With too many of the worst things in common, Orvil and Sean are soon to be friends.
I did have to refer back to the family tree at the halfway point of the book. There seem to be lines of connection and care as well as ties of addiction. It makes perfect sense that Opal's granddaughter would take on the responsibility to care for Jacquie's grandsons. The Opals of this family are the stalwarts, the North Stars of the family line. We may be momentarily intrigued by the matrilineal nature of the indigenous family structure, until it hits us that it works similarly in patrilineal systems, too, especially in the obligations of family. Opal Viola Victoria Bear Shield, like her grandmother before her, tries diligently to provide a foundation, a physical and emotional home base that everyone can count on.
Opal might have been successful, too. But just as for Jude Star, another repeated element is the ceremony gone wrong. The first was the Peyote service of healing, outlawed and violently shut down by the government. Its echo is found in the powwow. Just as in THERE THERE, the powwow is both deeply meaningful, and the site of invasive tragedy. It's a microcosmic reflection of outside forces trying to shatter the lives of First Nations, for generations. The thing about a shattered life, is that you can't put it quite back together the way it was. There is a before the precipitating event and an after, a big pile of sharp-edged fragments. Orvil shoves his pile of broken pieces into a corner of a tight place within himself.
Orvil's attempted healing odyssey brings up a question for each of us: is our ancient culture, and the key to our authenticity, locked up somewhere in our DNA? And if so, how do we go about finding it? Everyone wants to know who they are, which requires knowing who they've been, back through centuries. We return to the idea of stories, because we are made of so many.
After the doomed powwow, Orvil sees birds even when they might not be there, and always through windows. Orvil sees a bird's life as a metaphor for his own. He thinks how a bird can mistake the reflection in a window as just being more sky. If the birds represent freedom (dating back to the original Bird Woman) than this is another iteration of how he feels trapped. And what does it mean if the bird dies, looking at him? Is it the death of his freedom, the end of control over his own life?
More and more painkillers can easily feel like a solution for emotional as well as physical pain, when sometimes they just create more problems, and not just the possibility of addiction. Opiods can thin the veil between the conscious and the subconscious, allowing too much to bleed through in both directions. This is the greatest problem for Orvil, who is especially susceptible to the ancestral pull. Another thing these modern-day characters think about a lot, is time: can you manipulate it? Is it ever too late, like the time to make things right has closed like a window? Jacquie, Opal's sister, is carefully stepping into sobriety, which often seems like a closed pathway, but one she is determined to walk.
The overlap between THERE THERE and this novel was dizzying, and quite a moment, when I realized that this is a different perspective on the tragedy in the first book, and that Jacquie and Orvil were there. I was especially glad to find out more about Orvil's brothers.
Lony, one of Orvil's two brothers, has a connection to the spiritual thread in the family. He has a sincere wishing kind of faith in the power of Native Americans. Loother is the brother who is a keen observer. Everything in his environment seems oversatured with detail. He can sense who people really are, behind the masks they present to the world. As a result, he must always be his true self, his only protection being his silence. He is so overstuffed with emotion that he needs to express himself, and luckily, he finds that it is easier to control the trajectory of written language than spoken language. Loother is the keeper of culture. He earnestly sidesteps any cultural appropriation, which positions him perfectly to be the keeper of stories.
Nearing the end of this story, it's clear that Sean, Orvil, and Lony, are dangerously vulnerable. Each has tried to cope with the constant feeling of chasing after, and being chased by, something they can't explain. They try to flee, to fly away from this relentless inner force, but how do you escape something inside of you, something that feels like it's trying to consume you from the inside?
Some people don't survive their addictions. Others make it and even transition to the incredibly difficult work of recovery, which becomes their new habit. It never stops feeling like running uphill. And there has to be a replacement for the addictive behavior, something like intense exercise, or working to perfect a new skill, something that takes time, effort, and occupation.
The addict is always an addict. That part doesn't change. It's whether they are using (or being used up) that is the variable. There is a lot to learn and relearn, most especially, how to navigate emotions. Moving from standing on shifting sand, to building a foundation worth standing on, is especially resonant for Native Americans. Stories are buried everywhere in this land, waiting to be discovered and honored.
I am blown away by this story, the characters, the symbolism, every detail of this book. It felt a lot like reading someone's diary, and feeling honored to have read it.
Thank you to NetGalley and to Alfred A. Knopf publishing, a division of Penguin Random House, for granting an early copy of this amazing novel for review.
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