I woke up today, excited about the short hour before my usual Saturday morning workout. I usually use that time to read a short story, whichever caught my fancy. Sometimes, I usually had a story decided in advance, but today I didn't really know which to read except that I planned to hound
The New Yorker for a good one. (On a side note,
The New Yorker is fast becoming my favorite literary stop, and I've been playing with the idea of buying a subscription.) I eventually decided to read
The Shawl by Louise Erdrich, an author I haven't read yet, but who comes highly recommended. After reading this story, I'll have to join that bandwagon.
The Shawl starts with the story of an
Anishinaabeg mother of two young kids, who just gave birth to a baby whose father is a man that is not her husband. Her depression and bad temper eventually make her husband send her to live with the other man. Except, a tragedy strikes the wagon they travel in. Wolves attack them and their daughter is eaten by the wolves, leaving only her tattered titular shawl behind. The grief that follows this death shatters both her father and her brother, so much so that this ends up having repercussions in the future generations. The father especially cannot get over his shock of how his wife tossed his daughter to the wolves, just to save herself and the baby.
The narrator of
The Shawl, whose real connection to the dead girl is revealed only at the end, then proceeds to explain the chaos in his home - how he and his twin siblings live in terror of their drunkard father, over time learning to avoid the father whenever he comes home in one of his rages.
Set in the Anishinaabeg community, the story also echoed the ailing strains of the Indian American community - alcoholism eating it up, suicide becoming all too common, and how the old sort of people - "who are kind beyond kindness and would do anything for others", were fast disappearing. So far as the problems go, they reminded me of what I read in Sherman Alexie's
The Absolutely True Story of a Part-Time Indian, and how alcoholism and abuse were the story of their lives, and children often sat together "to compare our points of view".
The Shawl was a super-quick read - I finished it in 20 minutes, but at the end of the story, I felt as if I read a powerful long novel. I think of the stories I read so far this year, this is the one I liked the best - it was sad for sure. When the death of the sister was first mentioned, it came as a bitter shock. I think if everyone in that wagon (the mother, the baby, the girl and an uncle) had been attacked, it wouldn't have been too much of a kick-in-the-gut as when just that girl died, since the idea of a mother tossing the girl to the hungry animals was the more painful thought. I wondered how anyone got closure from something like that. But, for a story with such a heavy element, it is the ending that lets the reader move on. I won't say you what that is, but it makes reading the story so much more worthwhile.
I hope you chose to read this story - it just takes 20 minutes of your time, and it is a beautiful one. If you haven't read Erdrich yet, this will be a good introduction to her work. I'm looking forward to checking out her novels now. The
Byliner has more
stories by Erdrich listed, if you're interested.
I read this book online on the NewYorker. Go ahead and read it.
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