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One Native Life
One Native Life is a look back down the road Richard Wagamese has traveled � from childhood abuse to adult alcoholism � in reclaiming his identity. It’s about what he has learned as a human being, a man, and an Ojibway in his 52 years on Earth. Whether he’s writing about playing baseball, running away with the circus, making bannock , or attending a sacred bundle ceremony, these are stories told in a healing spirit. Through them, Wagamese shows readers how to appreciate life for the journey it is.
240 pages, Hardcover
First published July 22, 2008
101 people are currently reading
3098 people want to read
About the author
Richard Wagamese
26books1,518followersRichard Wagamese was one of Canada's foremost Native authors and storytellers. He worked as a professional writer since 1979. He was a newspaper columnist and reporter, radio and television broadcaster and producer, documentary producer and the author of twelve titles from major Canadian publishers.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 277 reviews
February 19, 2018
This is less a memoir, and more a book of meditations -- little sketches of moments in time, with a deep reflection in each one on the measure of one (native) man's life. Wagamese offers some deeply moving and highly emotional observations, without ever once dripping into mawkishness.
There is truth and reconciliation here, in a very real sense. In the past dozen years, that phrase has become so overdone and so hackneyed in our country, that many people tune it out when they hear it. To many, it is only a glib advertisement for dealing with "that whole native question" without once giving thought to the real people and the real conditions that shaped the lives of those who seek settlement with how their past was shaped. Wagamese gives us a clean line of sight into what truth and reconciliation really means:
There is a song that is Canada. You can hear it in the bush and tree and rock, in the crash of a Pacific surf and the blowing of the breeze across the prairie sky. There are ancient notes in its chorus, voices sprung from Métis roots, Ojibway, Cree, Micmac and then French, German, Scottish and English. It's a magnificent cacophony.
I have learned that to love this country means to love its people. All of them. When we say "all my relations" it's meant in a teaching way, to rekindle community. We are part of the great, grand circle of humanity, and we need each other.
It wouldn't be Canada with one voice less.
To rekindle community. To rekindle that which was broken, and torn from, the first peoples. He spares no one in this, including himself: what it means to rekindle the remnants of a frozen life: first the harm that was done to him, to his people; then the harm that was done to him by his people; and finally the harm he did to himself because of the burdens he carried.
This is a book then, for finding out the real meaning of truth and reconciliation. It is also a book for anyone who is looking for home, for their roots, for their clan or tribe.
"You become invisible when you're homeless."
He writes of the obvious homelessness of a youth without family, without hope, on the streets of the numerous cities across this country in which he alternately starved, was ignored, was abused, became an abuser of drugs and alcohol. But also implied is the rootlessness of not knowing your origins, of not knowing where you belong, of not having a place to hang your spiritual hat without the connections of ancestors, be they Ojibway, be they French or Irish or Italian. In the end, having that label of who you are makes all the difference in the world -- for labels are both a weapon, and a balm.
You learned that labels have weight. You learned to drink so that you wouldn't have to carry those labels or feel them stuck to you like arrows. And in your drunken stumble the shutters on their homes snapped closed because you've become exactly what they expected.
When you found your people, you became Ojibway. You became Anishinabe. You became Sturgeon Clan. You became Wagamese again, and in that name was a recognition of being that felt like a balm on the rawness where they'd scraped the Indian away. Ojibway. It resonated in you. It was a label that held the promise of discovery, of homecoming, of reclamation and rejuvenation.
This is a book I will cherish and keep close at hand for dipping into often, for grounding myself when I feel the night is too long.
There is truth and reconciliation here, in a very real sense. In the past dozen years, that phrase has become so overdone and so hackneyed in our country, that many people tune it out when they hear it. To many, it is only a glib advertisement for dealing with "that whole native question" without once giving thought to the real people and the real conditions that shaped the lives of those who seek settlement with how their past was shaped. Wagamese gives us a clean line of sight into what truth and reconciliation really means:
There is a song that is Canada. You can hear it in the bush and tree and rock, in the crash of a Pacific surf and the blowing of the breeze across the prairie sky. There are ancient notes in its chorus, voices sprung from Métis roots, Ojibway, Cree, Micmac and then French, German, Scottish and English. It's a magnificent cacophony.
I have learned that to love this country means to love its people. All of them. When we say "all my relations" it's meant in a teaching way, to rekindle community. We are part of the great, grand circle of humanity, and we need each other.
It wouldn't be Canada with one voice less.
To rekindle community. To rekindle that which was broken, and torn from, the first peoples. He spares no one in this, including himself: what it means to rekindle the remnants of a frozen life: first the harm that was done to him, to his people; then the harm that was done to him by his people; and finally the harm he did to himself because of the burdens he carried.
This is a book then, for finding out the real meaning of truth and reconciliation. It is also a book for anyone who is looking for home, for their roots, for their clan or tribe.
"You become invisible when you're homeless."
He writes of the obvious homelessness of a youth without family, without hope, on the streets of the numerous cities across this country in which he alternately starved, was ignored, was abused, became an abuser of drugs and alcohol. But also implied is the rootlessness of not knowing your origins, of not knowing where you belong, of not having a place to hang your spiritual hat without the connections of ancestors, be they Ojibway, be they French or Irish or Italian. In the end, having that label of who you are makes all the difference in the world -- for labels are both a weapon, and a balm.
You learned that labels have weight. You learned to drink so that you wouldn't have to carry those labels or feel them stuck to you like arrows. And in your drunken stumble the shutters on their homes snapped closed because you've become exactly what they expected.
When you found your people, you became Ojibway. You became Anishinabe. You became Sturgeon Clan. You became Wagamese again, and in that name was a recognition of being that felt like a balm on the rawness where they'd scraped the Indian away. Ojibway. It resonated in you. It was a label that held the promise of discovery, of homecoming, of reclamation and rejuvenation.
This is a book I will cherish and keep close at hand for dipping into often, for grounding myself when I feel the night is too long.
February 5, 2017
Written in plain but powerful prose and bite-sized chapters, this memoir of an indigenous Canadian writer is one of the most hypnotically calming books I've ever read. I don't go in much for the spiritual side of things, but Wagamese coaxed me there with his meditations on identity, family, music, friends, nature, and joy. I trusted each and every word.
April 5, 2024
Apr 5, 1045am ~~ Another stunner. I am so amazed by this author. This book is a collection of essays that reveal his soul. Will definitely be reading it again, there is no way to absorb all the power the first time through.
June 26, 2017
Stories are meant to heal. That's what my people say, and it's what I believe. Culling these stories has taken me a long way down the healing path from the trauma I carried. This book is a look back at one native life, at the people, the places and the events that have helped me find my way to peace again, to stand in the sunshine with my beautiful partner, looking out over the lake and the land we love and say � yes.
In the introduction to , author Richard Wagamese explains that when he and his partner Debra Powell moved to a house on a mountainside lake, the setting � everything from the morning light to the sounds of wildlife to the sense of community with his neighbours � provoked strong memories from his tumultuous life, and having been a professional writer for his entire career, he decided to write them down. What follows are sixty-five short vignettes, ranging in length from three to five pages, and while at first I was a bit put off by the jarring format, I soon saw the wisdom in Wagamese's method: this isn't a book to rush through, but rather one to pick up, savour, and set down again for contemplation. With the beautiful prose for which I have long admired Wagamese, and a candid revelation of those events that propelled him from the foster care system to the streets and then on to peace, this book is not just beautiful but important: this is the history of Canada and the history of its relationship with its native population, and through the example of this one native life, in a voice without anger or bitterness, Wagamese invites us all to join in a conversation, as neighbours, over our common back fence.
As an example of the format, the story The Country between Us opens with an observation from Wagamese's present:
There are times when something as simple as the rain that freckles slate grey water can take me back to it � that feeling I remember from my boyhood when the ragged line of trees against the sky filled me with a loneliness that had nothing to do with loss. The land sometimes carries an emptiness you feel in you like the breeze.
It's not a sad feeling. Rather it's a song I learned by rote in the tramp of my young feet through the rough and tangle of the bush that shaped me. I come to the land the same way still, expectant, awake to the promise of territories beyond the horizon, undiscovered and wild. All those years in cities never took away that feeling of tremendous awe.
Wagamese then tells a brief story about camping with his birth family after he had reconnected with them; about how he experienced true reverence in the presence of unspoiled nature on a canoe trip with his brother in traditional Ojibway territory, and then returned to find the elders watching baseball on a portable television. The story concludes:
All Canadians have felt time disrupt them. Everyone has seen the culture they sprang from altered and rearranged into a curious melange of old and new. So the country between us is not strange. We all carry a yearning for simpler, truer times. We all crave a reaffirmation of our place here, to hear the voices of our people singing on the land.
And every vignette is like this: a lovely introduction, a related memory, and a concluding paragraph on the lesson to be learned from it. Reading them quickly makes the collection feel formulaic, but taken more slowly, each is a perfect round berry hanging in a cluster from a mountain ash branch; more satisfying when plucked one by one.
Despite the brevity of each story, One Native Life serves as a satisfying memoir, throwing light on the Wagamese novels I've read: explaining his knowledge of baseball and radicalism in ; homelessness and the carnie life in ; hockey and the effects of residential schools in ; the sorrow of being disconnected from your heritage in . Wagamese reveals his fascinating life story in a thoughtful order, and I couldn't help but admire him for finding his way to peace in the wake of trauma and prejudice. Consistently concluding with words of quiet wisdom, I repeatedly got the sense that if only all Canadians, of every heritage and circumstance, could take a moment in stillness to really listen as the neighbours speak their truths over the back fence, we'd be the true partners in the national project that would raise us all up.
December 7, 2021
In this memoir, published in 2008, about a decade before Wagamese’s death, he writes about his move from the city to the country. Along with his partner, Wagamese moved to a cabin outside of Kamloops, BC.
Through this memoir, Wagamese reflects on his surroundings as it pulls him into memories from his disjointed childhood as an indigenous child in the Canadian foster care system. He utilizes short chapters to talk about topics such as nature, human connection, music, education, and so much more. In everything he has a tenderness and respect for each person, animal and landscape he comes into contact with.
I absolutely love Wagamese ethos. He has this quality in his writing that demands attention without ever being pushing or domineering. He has so many stories to tell and wisdom to share and it’s evident in each chapter of this book. I do think it becomes a bit redundant toward the end, with many of the chapters ending in a very direct moral or lesson he took from his experiences. However, the lessons learned are so invaluable that I can overlook the oft simplistic delivery.
If you like memoir, and are looking for one with a unique structure, focused less on a linear timeline and more thematic groupings, this is a must read!
Through this memoir, Wagamese reflects on his surroundings as it pulls him into memories from his disjointed childhood as an indigenous child in the Canadian foster care system. He utilizes short chapters to talk about topics such as nature, human connection, music, education, and so much more. In everything he has a tenderness and respect for each person, animal and landscape he comes into contact with.
I absolutely love Wagamese ethos. He has this quality in his writing that demands attention without ever being pushing or domineering. He has so many stories to tell and wisdom to share and it’s evident in each chapter of this book. I do think it becomes a bit redundant toward the end, with many of the chapters ending in a very direct moral or lesson he took from his experiences. However, the lessons learned are so invaluable that I can overlook the oft simplistic delivery.
If you like memoir, and are looking for one with a unique structure, focused less on a linear timeline and more thematic groupings, this is a must read!
October 15, 2015
On the very very short list of best books I've read this year. These autobiographical glimpses into the author's life bring so much on how we can live and how we can heal. Should be required reading in Canada and the rest of the world for that matter.
September 8, 2017
A gem!!! Rounded up from 4 1/2 to 5 since heads above the 3 1/2's I've rounded up to 4.
The book is lyrical, deliciously descriptive and very poetic. I wanted to write down many paragraphs in the book and hold them forever in my heart. It is the kind of book you could reread many times. Even just reading a few pages will fill you with a sense of gratitude and wonder as Richard reminds us of all the gifts this planet offers and the simplicity and grandeur of it all. Richard is truly a gifted storyteller who has carefully honed his craft of the written word.
The book is a collection of 2-3 page reflections and stories about the author Richard Wagamese - an Ojibway, a Canadian and a human being (Richard's words). I am going to see if this book is available in audio. It would be awesome.....just listening to the words...the emotions....the sounds described in the book, the language itself. I so much wanted to read the book aloud to myself and to someone else and sometimes did.
Richard's sharings and observations are moving, evoke emotion and truly inspire. I will be reading another of his books very soon.
He speaks about the elders who teach. That is what Richard does in this book. He teaches us with words, with feelings and with a great love of others and the universe. You can feel the silence and stillness within him. As he says and I paraprase - you often learn more in the silence after the speech/book is over.
I found myself often rereading sections and just relishing in the sheer pleasure of what I had read. I highly recommend this book to everyone of all ages.
The book is lyrical, deliciously descriptive and very poetic. I wanted to write down many paragraphs in the book and hold them forever in my heart. It is the kind of book you could reread many times. Even just reading a few pages will fill you with a sense of gratitude and wonder as Richard reminds us of all the gifts this planet offers and the simplicity and grandeur of it all. Richard is truly a gifted storyteller who has carefully honed his craft of the written word.
The book is a collection of 2-3 page reflections and stories about the author Richard Wagamese - an Ojibway, a Canadian and a human being (Richard's words). I am going to see if this book is available in audio. It would be awesome.....just listening to the words...the emotions....the sounds described in the book, the language itself. I so much wanted to read the book aloud to myself and to someone else and sometimes did.
Richard's sharings and observations are moving, evoke emotion and truly inspire. I will be reading another of his books very soon.
He speaks about the elders who teach. That is what Richard does in this book. He teaches us with words, with feelings and with a great love of others and the universe. You can feel the silence and stillness within him. As he says and I paraprase - you often learn more in the silence after the speech/book is over.
I found myself often rereading sections and just relishing in the sheer pleasure of what I had read. I highly recommend this book to everyone of all ages.
January 7, 2017
"I have always wanted to write. There isn't a time I can recall when I didn't carry the desire to frame things, order things upon a page, sort them out, make sense of them. But learning to write was a challenge, an ordeal".
As part of a Secret Santa book exchange, I was thrilled to receive a copy of One Native Life by Richard Wagamese. It is a series of vignettes which form a memoir of his life, giving insight into his challenging childhood and life experiences which inspire such beautiful storytelling. The Medicine Walk was my first introduction to Wagamese and is my absolute favourite book of 2016! After finishing this book, I devoured Indian Horse and Ragged Company which also shared difficult stories that give readers a different perspective to consider. All Canadians should read these books to consider the generational impacts of the dreadful residential schools.
One Native Life is a transparent account of Wagamese's early life. His birth family had been scarred by residential schools leading to alcoholism, abuse, abandonment and neglect (not to mention a badly shattered shoulder leaving his arm deformed prior to a surgical repair years later). He was placed into foster care and then into an adopted family where he was also abused and left without a connection to his indigenous heritage.
Wagamese spoke of how eager he had been to learn yet he was held back, labelled as a "slow, difficult learner" without "much hope for the future". He was learning mostly by memorizing and it was not until Grade 3 when a caring teacher asked him to write on the board that it she realized that he was not a slow learner but vision problems and needed glasses. That teacher helped him relearn his letters and he graduated with straight A's that year!
Life at home and at school was not easy. He sought refuge in the library, reading, listening to music, learning about art and discovering a new world.
"Libraries have always been my refuge. As a kid I met Peter Pan there, Curious George, the Bobbsey twins and the great Red Rider. It was stunning to discover that they'd let me take those characters home. I loved the smell of libraries, too a combination of dust and leather and the dry rub of paper mixed with paint and wood and people.
The library showed me the mysteries of the world. There was always something that I'd never heard of or imagined, and books and stories where I could learn about it. I read wide-eyed, tracing the tricky words with a finger I could sound them out and discern a fragment of meaning. The library was like an enchanted forest. I explored every inch of the stacks, fascinated by the witches and goblins, fairies and trolls, great wars and inventions I encountered there."
It was not only the library that sustained him but his writing:
"My life became the walk to school and back. Then it was four hours in my room each night to study. Except that I didn't study. I wrote. I wrote stories and plays and poems. about the kind of life I imagined every other kid was having, a life that wasn't restricted to the cloister of a small room. My stories were filled with hopes, dreams, happy endings and skies. And I never showed them to anybody".
At the age of 15 years, Wagamese ran away. He hitchhiked all the way to Florida before being returned home by police. He ran away again, spent time living on the streets and even worked at a carnival (and yes, helping to put the Ferris Wheel together as described in Ragged Company). These experiences are repeated in his books and I loved gaining insight into the stories he told including the time when he was given a traditional name:
"He called me Mushkotay Beezheekee Anakwat. It means 'Buffalo Cloud'. It's a storyteller's name. he said and he told me that my role in this reality was to be just that: a teller of stories, a communicator, a keeper of the great oral tradition of my people."
Despite abuse, abandonment and a very difficult childhood devoid of his culture and heritage, his memoir describes his feelings of peace and being a part of the landscape where he lives as an Ojibwe man. He appreciates the trees and the wildlife as he describes the mountain and lake view outside his window. He has reconnected with his birth family, learned his Ojibway language and appreciates the teachings and rituals like smudging.
I have learned from each book that I have read and look forward to reading more. Richard Wagamaese has a way of quietly telling stories with lessons of understanding, acceptance and reconsidering judgment. His books are amazing and his name should be synonymous with high school curriculums. I am thankful for his writing, for his bravery and for sharing bits of his own story with readers. I am not sure if he participates in author events but if he comes to Southern Ontario, I will strive to be first in line to meet him!
As I visit the library, I will think of the difference that words, stories and books made for this boy as he struggled at home and school. As I search for books to restock my Little Free Library, I will be on the look out for more books by Richard Wagamese as I want all my friends, my neighbours, my community to learn through his stories. I loved reading the memoir but if I can suggest one book to read this year, it will be The Medicine Walk!
"I learned how to live through adversity in the library. I learned how words and music can empower you, show you the world in a sharper, clearer, more forgiving way. I became a writer because of what I found in libraries and If oudh the song that still reverberates in my chest. I'm a better man, a better human being and a better Indian because of the freedom in words and music."
June 9, 2022
I wish I'd read the hard copy of this book while sitting under a tree or next to a lake (or both).
This collection of personal essays by Richard Wagamese explores his growth and healing from a childhood of abuse, isolation, loss, and alienation from and journey back to his native culture. It's peaceful but not easy reading, and it really should be read outside!
The reader of this audiobook is just okay. He reads well but his inflections were a little jarring, as in he didn't always read with the same fluency I would have heard in my head.
This collection of personal essays by Richard Wagamese explores his growth and healing from a childhood of abuse, isolation, loss, and alienation from and journey back to his native culture. It's peaceful but not easy reading, and it really should be read outside!
The reader of this audiobook is just okay. He reads well but his inflections were a little jarring, as in he didn't always read with the same fluency I would have heard in my head.
January 26, 2018
This is one of those rare stories which moves me so deeply that I have no words to describe the experience.
February 16, 2020
This book contains a number of short reflections of the author on his life. It has the feel of a local journalist writing in a small town paper about their life. I found the stories interesting as personal reflections, much as I would a favorite local columnist. When I think back on my reading of this, I don't believe it was as focused on portraying a "native life" as I would have assumed from the title. The stories that had the most impact were of the author as a foster child, and the difficulties he had in life based on his upbringing and the physical issues he had. I will most remember these stories from this book, and the author's style that I would call gentle reflection.
October 30, 2024
I always get really bad “winter blues� and it’s begun early this year. I knew I just needed another native person to tell me “it’s gonna be okay� so I listened to Richard Wagamese. He always grounds me and reminds me that I am always connected to Mother Earth.
July 3, 2016
Wagamese's vignettes are like perfect precious little berries, quivering ripely, ready to be plucked and eaten whole. They're poetry, they have a gorgeous breathe-deep rhythm that gets into me and stays there like truth tends to do, vibrating, resonating, being.
John Wagamese, the author's grandfather, "knew the land like an old hymn. It sang through him, wild and exuberant and free". This is what I feel when I read these stories. Like I'm coming to know myself, the words sing through me.
John Wagamese, the author's grandfather, "knew the land like an old hymn. It sang through him, wild and exuberant and free". This is what I feel when I read these stories. Like I'm coming to know myself, the words sing through me.
September 12, 2017
Richard writes a soulful account of what it is like to face the world when your heritage has been lost. He gives us a series of stories about how he learned to accept and forgive the many problems he faced. He finally found his way home to what it means to be "Indian"and to be at peace with the world.
His words echo truths we all live. It is so sad he is lost to us now. I felt his spirit throughout the book.
His words echo truths we all live. It is so sad he is lost to us now. I felt his spirit throughout the book.
November 13, 2020
I really enjoyed this memoir. Almost a surprise, because I came to Richard Wagamese’s published writing by kind of an odd route. He was born in the Canadian province Ontario, and quite a bit of his career life was spent in Central Canada, whereas most of my life has been spent in Canada’s far west. I’m a white guy and, although I’ve read lots about Native Canadians, I’d previously read very little of their literary output; instead, I’ve attended festivals & ceremonies on Native lands, spent time with Native people as acquaintances or friends or in the course of my professional work, and (in one stretch) as a fellow member of a shared house in the big city.
During our socially constrained COVID period, I was in my nearest public library one day. I like biographies & memoirs, and noticed this book. Turns out the later years of this author I’d never heard of were spent in my province, only about a five hour drive (during non-snowy months) from where I live. Growing up apart from Indian-reserve land, he didn't present his life as typical for Native people in Canada. His book is divided into four sections, each with a very brief introduction; the 65 short “chapters� consist of introspective essays where Wagamese delves into, and intimately reveals much about, episodes & periods in his life � from his fostered-out childhood into his mature adulthood.
Abandoned by his alcoholic Ojibway parents at two years, until his late teens Richard was raised in “a vortex of adoption�, a series of white homes � sometimes living with sensitive adults, sometimes not. A kind foster dad took him fishing in his early years, others involved him in various forms of Christian religion. As a boy, Richard enjoyed the radio, TV (the Ed Sullivan Show a favorite), Saturday-matinee movies, playing baseball, medium-distance running, and being outdoors in general. After learning to read at school, libraries also absorbed much of his free time, and there he pursued his fondness for astronomy, adventures, art & music. Having completed grade-9 at school, at 16 he set out on his own: drifting around, working short-term jobs, living low-key (sometimes very close to the bone).
Richard was eventually re-united with his mother and other family members, who lived on Ojibway reserve land. Once reconnected with his people, he learned about the traditional aspects of their 20th-century lives, and became involved with Native spirituality. These things are the substance of much of the later portion of the book. Along the way, he’d become a freelance journalist (print & radio); he eventually became a columnist for a major Canadian daily paper.
While there’s as much grit in his un-maudlin memoir as there is in Orwell’s Down and Out, Wagamese’s spans many more years and his poetic nuances add to a reader’s delight.
Richard Wagamese is modest in the telling of his accomplishments, though he does mention bits about his work in journalism. I learned from other sources that he became a published novelist and television writer, and the recipient of a number of accolades (including an honorary PhD).
During our socially constrained COVID period, I was in my nearest public library one day. I like biographies & memoirs, and noticed this book. Turns out the later years of this author I’d never heard of were spent in my province, only about a five hour drive (during non-snowy months) from where I live. Growing up apart from Indian-reserve land, he didn't present his life as typical for Native people in Canada. His book is divided into four sections, each with a very brief introduction; the 65 short “chapters� consist of introspective essays where Wagamese delves into, and intimately reveals much about, episodes & periods in his life � from his fostered-out childhood into his mature adulthood.
Abandoned by his alcoholic Ojibway parents at two years, until his late teens Richard was raised in “a vortex of adoption�, a series of white homes � sometimes living with sensitive adults, sometimes not. A kind foster dad took him fishing in his early years, others involved him in various forms of Christian religion. As a boy, Richard enjoyed the radio, TV (the Ed Sullivan Show a favorite), Saturday-matinee movies, playing baseball, medium-distance running, and being outdoors in general. After learning to read at school, libraries also absorbed much of his free time, and there he pursued his fondness for astronomy, adventures, art & music. Having completed grade-9 at school, at 16 he set out on his own: drifting around, working short-term jobs, living low-key (sometimes very close to the bone).
Richard was eventually re-united with his mother and other family members, who lived on Ojibway reserve land. Once reconnected with his people, he learned about the traditional aspects of their 20th-century lives, and became involved with Native spirituality. These things are the substance of much of the later portion of the book. Along the way, he’d become a freelance journalist (print & radio); he eventually became a columnist for a major Canadian daily paper.
While there’s as much grit in his un-maudlin memoir as there is in Orwell’s Down and Out, Wagamese’s spans many more years and his poetic nuances add to a reader’s delight.
Richard Wagamese is modest in the telling of his accomplishments, though he does mention bits about his work in journalism. I learned from other sources that he became a published novelist and television writer, and the recipient of a number of accolades (including an honorary PhD).
July 28, 2020
One Native Life is a collection of short memoirs, more like meditations, in which Richard Wagamese explores unity, identity, and healing. At first glance, the entries are simple and direct, like newspaper columns, but they allow Wagamese a freedom to discuss and to connect with whatever he likes. At one point, he describes how much he admired Pierre Trudeau even though he disliked that government's policies towards the First Nations. He has a way of holding on to what he values and of letting go of ornamentation that I found impressive. He criticizes the urge to exclude in order to create an in-group (55), and at another point he cuts off his braids because he carries what they represent within him. When he listens to a Muhammad Ali fight on the radio (73), he connects with the boxers, the announcer, and the crowd behind. I was not at all surprised to see him mention that 'universe," in the original Greek, means "one song" (247). Many of these meditations are also about connecting with the land, and I liked this passage: "We don't become more by living with the land. Instead, we become our proper size. It takes unity to do that. It takes the recognition of the community we live in. This world. This earth. This planet" (217). Two favorites were his essay on running (64) and on learning Ojibway (137). A final note: another ŷ reviewer described the style of these essays as "gentle reflection." That seems right to me, and much of this memoir describes the realizations that led him to write in this way.
January 9, 2021
This was very enjoyable. The audiobook makes it a soothing listening experience. The writing makes it a journey to himself and him finding his identity while also putting things in a broader persepctive by reflection and connecting it to the outside world.
Can recommend.
Can recommend.
January 21, 2022
Like his One Story, One Song book, this is a collection of the author's anecdotes and observations which span the course of his life. One Native Life was written three years after One Story, One Song so I listened to them backwards. Richard Wagamese was a first nations author from Ontario. Sadly, he died in 2017 at the young age of 61.
The sixty-four chapters are divided in to four groups by subject matter: Ahki (Earth), Ishskwaday (Fire), Nibi (Water), and Ishpiming (Universe). There is a minute long introduction to each group explaining the significance of each title and chapters are all pretty short. I listened on Audible and most of them were about three to five minutes long.
Richard is a great storyteller. There is some overlap with One Story, One Song but not much. One Story, One Song covered more of his later years while One Native Life covered more of his youth and young adult life. Much of this was terribly depressing as life threw a lot of bad stuff at him during his difficult childhood. In this memoir some highlights for me were his meeting with Muhammad Ali, his appreciation of John Lennon, and his private off-the-record one-on-one conversation with Johnny Cash while working in the press which was as great as you would think it would be. He talks more baseball (yay) and nature. His return to the remote forested camp area where he spent his early years wrapped this collection up and was the highlight of the book I thought.
The Audible narration was again by the actor Christian Baskous. His very distinct voice and measured manner of speaking fit the tone of most of the stories really well.
The sixty-four chapters are divided in to four groups by subject matter: Ahki (Earth), Ishskwaday (Fire), Nibi (Water), and Ishpiming (Universe). There is a minute long introduction to each group explaining the significance of each title and chapters are all pretty short. I listened on Audible and most of them were about three to five minutes long.
Richard is a great storyteller. There is some overlap with One Story, One Song but not much. One Story, One Song covered more of his later years while One Native Life covered more of his youth and young adult life. Much of this was terribly depressing as life threw a lot of bad stuff at him during his difficult childhood. In this memoir some highlights for me were his meeting with Muhammad Ali, his appreciation of John Lennon, and his private off-the-record one-on-one conversation with Johnny Cash while working in the press which was as great as you would think it would be. He talks more baseball (yay) and nature. His return to the remote forested camp area where he spent his early years wrapped this collection up and was the highlight of the book I thought.
The Audible narration was again by the actor Christian Baskous. His very distinct voice and measured manner of speaking fit the tone of most of the stories really well.
May 12, 2013
I think it is a book every Canadian should read. A friend wrote a very warm review for this book and that motivated me to read it. And I am glad that I did.
Richard Wagamese was born to residential school survivors who had lost everything they could call their own, including their identity, way of living and confidence. In that they had also lost the basic instinct for caring for their own kids. So, eventually, their two kids were taken away from them. Richard's childhood was spent in foster homes for several years before he was adopted by a white family He ran away from home without completing his school and with little formal education and with the skin color he had, life was tough (I wouldn't use any fancy adjectives, because no words can do justice to the hardships he faced, not just physically but emotionally and very deeply).Later when is discovered by his brother, he finds his roots. He makes peace with his family. He is a keen learner, very well read and person who keeps trying to explore and find meanings in everything, thus ends up being a very positive person.
The book started off slowly and I initially thought that the narrator was holding back something and was trying to stay in control to make sure he was not cynical. But eventually he opened up and still without losing control, opened up his heart. His criticism was gentle, non-dramatic and reflective.... that's what touched me the most.
Richard Wagamese was born to residential school survivors who had lost everything they could call their own, including their identity, way of living and confidence. In that they had also lost the basic instinct for caring for their own kids. So, eventually, their two kids were taken away from them. Richard's childhood was spent in foster homes for several years before he was adopted by a white family He ran away from home without completing his school and with little formal education and with the skin color he had, life was tough (I wouldn't use any fancy adjectives, because no words can do justice to the hardships he faced, not just physically but emotionally and very deeply).Later when is discovered by his brother, he finds his roots. He makes peace with his family. He is a keen learner, very well read and person who keeps trying to explore and find meanings in everything, thus ends up being a very positive person.
The book started off slowly and I initially thought that the narrator was holding back something and was trying to stay in control to make sure he was not cynical. But eventually he opened up and still without losing control, opened up his heart. His criticism was gentle, non-dramatic and reflective.... that's what touched me the most.
December 12, 2015
Beautifully written memoir by Ojibway author, Richard Wagamese. I was expecting more of a typical memoir but I think he was brilliant in how he wrote in segments containing life lessons, spiritual enlightenment and bits and pieces of his life history. I kept waiting to hear the story of how he ended up in foster care and it finally came but not as I expected. I won't tell you anymore than that because I feel that he made creative choices that brings the reader to an understanding of who the author is. I wavered towards five stars but I only reserve that for the very best of the best but it sure was close. This is a man who I can say I admire deeply and he is far wiser than his years. Here is a quote that resounded in me:
"We heal. Indian and non, we heal. But we must risk being vulnerable to get to the glistening bone of truth- that we are responsible for our own healing. No one else can get us there, and there isn't enough money anywhere to buy it for us."
"We heal. Indian and non, we heal. But we must risk being vulnerable to get to the glistening bone of truth- that we are responsible for our own healing. No one else can get us there, and there isn't enough money anywhere to buy it for us."
February 28, 2017
4.5 stars
This is Richard Wagamese's memoir about the lessons he has learned throughout his life and how they helped him become the person he is today. It is told through a series of vignettes, mostly starting with an observation in his present life, a memory from his past, and a teaching that can be gleaned form the story. Weaved throughout is the telling of his personal story is a great deal of traditional teachings, and historical information.
I would have given it 5 starts, but two things nagged at me while I read it.
1. the story is not told chronologically, and I had to write myself a time line to figure out when certain things occurred, and if they were before or after other things had occurred.
2. His references to "MY Woman" throughout the book. He names many people in the book, and identifies his partners name in his biography, why he could not refer to her by name in this memoir really irked me.
This is Richard Wagamese's memoir about the lessons he has learned throughout his life and how they helped him become the person he is today. It is told through a series of vignettes, mostly starting with an observation in his present life, a memory from his past, and a teaching that can be gleaned form the story. Weaved throughout is the telling of his personal story is a great deal of traditional teachings, and historical information.
I would have given it 5 starts, but two things nagged at me while I read it.
1. the story is not told chronologically, and I had to write myself a time line to figure out when certain things occurred, and if they were before or after other things had occurred.
2. His references to "MY Woman" throughout the book. He names many people in the book, and identifies his partners name in his biography, why he could not refer to her by name in this memoir really irked me.
June 10, 2013
Having come fresh off his book, "Indian Horse", I had to keep reading more material by Richard Wagamese. "One Native Life" did not disappoint. His writing is a joy to experience. The splendid way that he uses language makes me stop mid-story to simply re-read and enjoy his craft. This book is a collection of stories that reflects on many aspects of his life , which without a doubt , has seen great difficulty. How he has been able to maintain his optimism and sense of wonder of this world, in particular, of nature, is a joy to witness. His stories also leave room for hope and the possibility of healing. This book makes me want to be a better person and to search for the good that this world has to offer. I am grateful to have been introduced to the wonderful books of this author, Richard Wagamese. His work is spectacular.
November 1, 2016
Wagamese's book of stories about growing up a Native in Canada was insightful. It was a gentle book that was both inspiring and sad, the author put so much feeling into his writing, I could picture each scene perfectly. All the stories were written in first person, and the child told them in such a way that it lightened your spirits, making you want to be there in a way. I would recommend this book to anyone who is interested in learning about Native culture or residential schools, or almost anyone who wants something warm to help them relax after a long and stressful day. This book gave a sense of loneliness, but also hope. Being Ojibway made him feel connections to the world around him, in ways that many couldn't hope to understand, I liked that about this book. I'm glad I got the chance to reach something different, in a good way.
January 8, 2009
This was a collection of spiritual essays about some of the people, places and things that gave Richard Wagamese hope over the years. Wagamese was a product of the foster system, and suffered a great deal in his early life. So this collection offers hope and reflection for First Nations people.
I found this book to be thoughtful and uplifting, even though it was also very sad.
I found this book to be thoughtful and uplifting, even though it was also very sad.
January 8, 2015
A book that's given me hope in a time that I haven't felt any. I'll write a review of it later.
May 2, 2024
There are memories that inhabit you like light. When you revisit them the world changes by degree, and you become the one you were when you created them: younger, nimbler, stronger, more beautiful perhaps. In the space they illuminate you're graced with the ability to dream again, to become as naive or hopeful or determined as you were back then. That's the gift of living long enough. You get to see yourself in all kinds of lights and if you're lucky, if you're very, very lucky, you smile a little wistfully at the people and the places you've been along the way.
One Native Life is a calming work of refection and transcendence. A combination of memoir, essays and inspiration.
Favorite Passages:
The Flag on the Mountain
Right then, I believed that Canada was a wish, a breath waiting to be exhaled. I believed that the song was a blessing, the flag its standard. I believed, as I had been told by the teacher, that my people were special, that I was special and that the blessings of that song and that flag fell equally on my shoulders. The true north, strong and free.
Bringing in the Sheaves
These were farmer folk, and threshing was something they took seriously. It wasn't just work to them. It was purpose, a matter-of-fact need, and they just got down to it.
Wood Ducks
I ached for permanence.
My Friend Shane
There's a romance to the feel of cold floorboards under bare feet, just as there's a romance to the snap, crackle and flame of the morning fire in the wood stove.
Chasing Ricky Lark
There are memories that inhabit you like light. When you revisit them the world changes by degree, and you become the one you were when you created them: younger, nimbler, stronger, more beautiful perhaps. In the space they illuminate you're graced with the ability to dream again, to become as naive or hopeful or determined as you were back then. That's the gift of living long enough. You get to see yourself in all kinds of lights and if you're lucky, if you're very, very lucky, you smile a little wistfully at the people and the places you've been along the way.
_______
There's a measure of safety living in a closed community.
Taking Flight
The sky that traces the curve of mountain today is an impossible blue. Cloudless, it is at once near enough to touch and as distant as a star. You could fall into it. That's how it feels. Perhaps there are cosmic particles deep inside us that make us one with the sky and space.
A Kindred Spirit
We heal each other with kindness, gentleness and respect. Animals teach us that.
Lemon Pie with Muhammad Ali
Finding Ali saved me, gave me the strength to carry on. I guess that's what heroes do - imbue us with the gold dust of their courage. Ali made me a fighter, and I've come out for every round since then.
Up from the Pavement
In the netherworld of homelessness and poverty, the commonality is a total lack of color. There are no pastel tones to your world, only the immutable greys and umbers and purples of longing, hurt, hunger and lack. Color taunts you always. It lurks on every street corner and in every neighborhood. Color. The look of possibility.
You become invisible when you're homeless. You walk the crowded sidewalks, dodging busy passersby, and you understand what it is to exist as a phantom, a shadow, as irrelevant as the discarded newspapers that flap at your feet.
A Hand on the Lid of the World
The library was like an enchanted forest. I explored every inch of the stacks, fascinated by the witches and goblins, fairies and trolls, great wars and inventions I encountered there.
_______
. . . the books and the music were doorways into parts of myself I hadn't known existed.
_______
. . . I found the song that still reverberates in my chest. I'm a better man, a better human being and a better Indian because of the freedom in words and music.
Driving Thunder Road
There's a poetry to life that's easy to miss. You get busy there are bills to pay, changes to navigate, sudden tragedies, the minute details of keeping yourself on the straight and true. But the poetry is there nonetheless. You just have to live some to learn to see it.
Learning Ojibway
I was twenty-four when the first Ojibway word rolled off my tongue. It felt round and rolling, not like the spiky sound of English with all its hard-edged consonants. When I spoke that word aloud, I felt as if I'd truly spoken for the first time in my life.
That first word opened the door to my culture. When I spoke it I stepped over the threshold into a new way of understanding myself and my place in the world. Until then I had been like a guest in my own life, standing around waiting for someone to explain things for me. That one word made me an inhabitant.
A Raven Tale
That's the trick of it in this life. There are a million shiny things around us, and it's easy to get distracted. Drink it all in, but make it your own. Find your own chunk of the sky, then flap, flap, soar. Flap, flap, soar.
Shooting Trudeau
Some people are a light in the sky. They chase shadow from your world and grant you vision.
The Medicine Wheel
The rain is a fine sprinkle on the trees this morning. When the sun pokes its head though the thin cloud, there's a happy conjunction of energy everywhere around. The land breathes, and I can almost feel the huff of it, the great lungs of Mother Earth receiving and releasing. A rainbow links the mountains. Beneath its layered parabola birds wheel and dive.
_______
Simple truths shine in the sun of every new morning. The world awaits us.
Coming to Beedahbun
The moon on the water is a pale eye. It hangs suspended, like a dream upon awakening. The lake bears it effortlessly, and the scrim of trees along the skyline thrust up like fingers to tickle its belly. You'd swear you can hear the chuckle of it against the morning adagio of shorebirds.
My people call this time of day Beedahbun, first light.
Neighbors
The lake here has tempers and moods. When the wind is right, it can whip itself into whitecaps. Other times, an easterly breeze will let the water be languid. A slight southwesterly push can create speckled channels. When it's placid, the lake hangs like a mirror between the poke of mountains.
It's a shape-shifter, this lake. Like all living beings, it breathes and moves and changes. It slides from azure to grey, indigo, cobalt, moss green or even silver, depending on the weather and the light. In storms it has a purple cast, and once last fall it took on a deep, melancholic blue, like yearning.
Walking the Territory
These are the days of summer's end. Above the mountains clouds are heavy grey, ominous with snow that's a mere month away. There's a washed-out feeling to the blue sky now, and the jays and other winter birds have begun to peck around the yard. Even loon calls in the thick purple night are urgent now. Autumn moons. Time to fly.
_______
A prayer and a realization. When you walk the territory of your being, the truth is everywhere around you.
One Native Life is a calming work of refection and transcendence. A combination of memoir, essays and inspiration.
Favorite Passages:
The Flag on the Mountain
Right then, I believed that Canada was a wish, a breath waiting to be exhaled. I believed that the song was a blessing, the flag its standard. I believed, as I had been told by the teacher, that my people were special, that I was special and that the blessings of that song and that flag fell equally on my shoulders. The true north, strong and free.
Bringing in the Sheaves
These were farmer folk, and threshing was something they took seriously. It wasn't just work to them. It was purpose, a matter-of-fact need, and they just got down to it.
Wood Ducks
I ached for permanence.
My Friend Shane
There's a romance to the feel of cold floorboards under bare feet, just as there's a romance to the snap, crackle and flame of the morning fire in the wood stove.
Chasing Ricky Lark
There are memories that inhabit you like light. When you revisit them the world changes by degree, and you become the one you were when you created them: younger, nimbler, stronger, more beautiful perhaps. In the space they illuminate you're graced with the ability to dream again, to become as naive or hopeful or determined as you were back then. That's the gift of living long enough. You get to see yourself in all kinds of lights and if you're lucky, if you're very, very lucky, you smile a little wistfully at the people and the places you've been along the way.
_______
There's a measure of safety living in a closed community.
Taking Flight
The sky that traces the curve of mountain today is an impossible blue. Cloudless, it is at once near enough to touch and as distant as a star. You could fall into it. That's how it feels. Perhaps there are cosmic particles deep inside us that make us one with the sky and space.
A Kindred Spirit
We heal each other with kindness, gentleness and respect. Animals teach us that.
Lemon Pie with Muhammad Ali
Finding Ali saved me, gave me the strength to carry on. I guess that's what heroes do - imbue us with the gold dust of their courage. Ali made me a fighter, and I've come out for every round since then.
Up from the Pavement
In the netherworld of homelessness and poverty, the commonality is a total lack of color. There are no pastel tones to your world, only the immutable greys and umbers and purples of longing, hurt, hunger and lack. Color taunts you always. It lurks on every street corner and in every neighborhood. Color. The look of possibility.
You become invisible when you're homeless. You walk the crowded sidewalks, dodging busy passersby, and you understand what it is to exist as a phantom, a shadow, as irrelevant as the discarded newspapers that flap at your feet.
A Hand on the Lid of the World
The library was like an enchanted forest. I explored every inch of the stacks, fascinated by the witches and goblins, fairies and trolls, great wars and inventions I encountered there.
_______
. . . the books and the music were doorways into parts of myself I hadn't known existed.
_______
. . . I found the song that still reverberates in my chest. I'm a better man, a better human being and a better Indian because of the freedom in words and music.
Driving Thunder Road
There's a poetry to life that's easy to miss. You get busy there are bills to pay, changes to navigate, sudden tragedies, the minute details of keeping yourself on the straight and true. But the poetry is there nonetheless. You just have to live some to learn to see it.
Learning Ojibway
I was twenty-four when the first Ojibway word rolled off my tongue. It felt round and rolling, not like the spiky sound of English with all its hard-edged consonants. When I spoke that word aloud, I felt as if I'd truly spoken for the first time in my life.
That first word opened the door to my culture. When I spoke it I stepped over the threshold into a new way of understanding myself and my place in the world. Until then I had been like a guest in my own life, standing around waiting for someone to explain things for me. That one word made me an inhabitant.
A Raven Tale
That's the trick of it in this life. There are a million shiny things around us, and it's easy to get distracted. Drink it all in, but make it your own. Find your own chunk of the sky, then flap, flap, soar. Flap, flap, soar.
Shooting Trudeau
Some people are a light in the sky. They chase shadow from your world and grant you vision.
The Medicine Wheel
The rain is a fine sprinkle on the trees this morning. When the sun pokes its head though the thin cloud, there's a happy conjunction of energy everywhere around. The land breathes, and I can almost feel the huff of it, the great lungs of Mother Earth receiving and releasing. A rainbow links the mountains. Beneath its layered parabola birds wheel and dive.
_______
Simple truths shine in the sun of every new morning. The world awaits us.
Coming to Beedahbun
The moon on the water is a pale eye. It hangs suspended, like a dream upon awakening. The lake bears it effortlessly, and the scrim of trees along the skyline thrust up like fingers to tickle its belly. You'd swear you can hear the chuckle of it against the morning adagio of shorebirds.
My people call this time of day Beedahbun, first light.
Neighbors
The lake here has tempers and moods. When the wind is right, it can whip itself into whitecaps. Other times, an easterly breeze will let the water be languid. A slight southwesterly push can create speckled channels. When it's placid, the lake hangs like a mirror between the poke of mountains.
It's a shape-shifter, this lake. Like all living beings, it breathes and moves and changes. It slides from azure to grey, indigo, cobalt, moss green or even silver, depending on the weather and the light. In storms it has a purple cast, and once last fall it took on a deep, melancholic blue, like yearning.
Walking the Territory
These are the days of summer's end. Above the mountains clouds are heavy grey, ominous with snow that's a mere month away. There's a washed-out feeling to the blue sky now, and the jays and other winter birds have begun to peck around the yard. Even loon calls in the thick purple night are urgent now. Autumn moons. Time to fly.
_______
A prayer and a realization. When you walk the territory of your being, the truth is everywhere around you.
November 12, 2020
"My people say that all things form a circle. Life is a circle that moves from the innocence of childhood and back to it again, in the quiet wisdom of elderhood. The energy we call Great Spirit moves in a great unseen circle around us. That's why the bowl of a ceremonial pipe, a sweat lodge and a Medicine Wheel are round. The circle, they say, is the model of the universe."
I could have read One Native Life in a single day, so graceful and engaging were the 2- or 3-page entries that Richard Wagamese offers about his life, ranging from his childhood as a foster child taken from Indian parents who could not care for him to his adoption that made him the only Indian in white communities to his re-identification as Ojibway and how he slowly came to terms with that, achieving balance and peace in his life. The story of his struggles is revealed sometimes out of sequence and not until towards the end of the book do we understand much of the pain and confusion he experienced. Each entry in the book contains insights to ponder, or mysteries to wonder at, or marvels of how the human heart can bear so much, or how a child can survive and belatedly heal in spite of cruelty and abandonment. Absorbing these things, meditating on them, takes time, and I am glad I read the book in this way.
"We are all travellers searching for the comfort of a fire in the night. We are all in need of a place of prayer, of solace, of unity. Our fire burns bright enough for everyone."
I could have read One Native Life in a single day, so graceful and engaging were the 2- or 3-page entries that Richard Wagamese offers about his life, ranging from his childhood as a foster child taken from Indian parents who could not care for him to his adoption that made him the only Indian in white communities to his re-identification as Ojibway and how he slowly came to terms with that, achieving balance and peace in his life. The story of his struggles is revealed sometimes out of sequence and not until towards the end of the book do we understand much of the pain and confusion he experienced. Each entry in the book contains insights to ponder, or mysteries to wonder at, or marvels of how the human heart can bear so much, or how a child can survive and belatedly heal in spite of cruelty and abandonment. Absorbing these things, meditating on them, takes time, and I am glad I read the book in this way.
"We are all travellers searching for the comfort of a fire in the night. We are all in need of a place of prayer, of solace, of unity. Our fire burns bright enough for everyone."
November 30, 2021
#IndigenousReadingCircle #ErinAndDanisBookclub
Richard Wagamese is a well beloved fiction author. I read Indian Horse by him and found his writing to carry such weight and impact. So to have the opportunity to read his memoir was one I couldn’t pass up. For someone who can write about heavy topics and trauma, his perspective on life is really optimistic and positive. He touches on traumatic moments in his life, but always finds the good in his life and the story of his people. His ability to look back on his life and think about it from a new perspective is so admirable. Each chapter reads more like short vignettes offering his thoughts and lessons he’s learned. They offered quick moments of reflection for us as readers. I didn’t always agree with him and the opinions he offered, but I also respect him and how he had come to that place. And I appreciated the book as a whole, which offered a great balance to some of the more traumatic memoirs we have read over the past year.
Richard Wagamese is a well beloved fiction author. I read Indian Horse by him and found his writing to carry such weight and impact. So to have the opportunity to read his memoir was one I couldn’t pass up. For someone who can write about heavy topics and trauma, his perspective on life is really optimistic and positive. He touches on traumatic moments in his life, but always finds the good in his life and the story of his people. His ability to look back on his life and think about it from a new perspective is so admirable. Each chapter reads more like short vignettes offering his thoughts and lessons he’s learned. They offered quick moments of reflection for us as readers. I didn’t always agree with him and the opinions he offered, but I also respect him and how he had come to that place. And I appreciated the book as a whole, which offered a great balance to some of the more traumatic memoirs we have read over the past year.
September 2, 2021
Wagamese generously offers of his personal history and profound meditations. I loved the repetition in these vignettes and hearing his well earned wisdom.
December 31, 2024
This book was full of healing and medicine for me. Richard Wagamese was also fostered and adopted and not brought up in his culture like I was. Lots of culture, stores, and spirituality in this book. I took so many notes and quotes from this book!!
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