Sherman Alexie

Sherman Alexie is one of my favorite Native American writers. He has a youthful boisterousness and this allows him to write from the perspective of young Indians on the res. He is primarily known as a novelist and writer of short stories. Two of his great novels are Indian Killer, a suspenseful mystery, and Reservations Blues. I adore his collection of stories, The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fist-Fight in Heaven. In it he includes a story called, "The Only Traffic Signal on the Reservation Doesn't Flash Red Anymore." He writes about the power of memory and story telling. He exposes reality: "It's hard to be optimistic on the reservation. When a glass sits on a table here, people don't wonder if it's half filled or half empty. They just hope it's a good beer. Still, Indians have a way of surviving. But it's almost like Indians can easily survive the big stuff. Mass murder, loss of language and land rights. It's the small things that hurt the most. The white waitress who wouldn't take an order, Tonto, the Washington Redskins. And just like everybody else, Indians need heroes to help them learn how to survive. But what happens when our heroes don't even know how to pay their bills?"

The story then goes on to talking about how the boys are longing for a hero, and how they marvel at how a sixth grade girl named, Lucy, with scarred knees and wearing her Daddy's shirt, is the best basketball player they have ever seen. It's a reinvention of the warrior motif; Lucy is a new hero, a new hope. A great story!!

Alexie is also a poet, as is the case with many strong writers of fiction. I love the poem below where he mocks his own trade of writing "the great American Indian novel." He satirizes the stereotypes of Indians, from white and Indian cultures, and turns them on their head in a witty tongue-in-cheek fashion.



How to Write the Great American Indian Novel
by Sherman Alexie, 2006

All of the Indians must have tragic features: tragic noses, eyes, and arms.
Their hands and fingers must be tragic when they reach for tragic food.

The hero must be a half-breed, half white and half Indian, preferably
from a horse culture. He should often weep alone. That is mandatory.

If the hero is an Indian woman, she is beautiful. She must be slender
and in love with a white man. But if she loves an Indian man

then he must be a half-breed, preferably from a horse culture.
If the Indian woman loves a white man, then he has to be so white

that we can see the blue veins running through his skin like rivers.
When the Indian woman steps out of her dress, the white man gasps

at the endless beauty of her brown skin. She should be compared to nature:
brown hills, mountains, fertile valleys, dewy grass, wind, and clear water.

If she is compared to murky water, however, then she must have a secret.
Indians always have secrets, which are carefully and slowly revealed.

Yet Indian secrets can be disclosed suddenly, like a storm.
Indian men, of course, are storms. The should destroy the lives

of any white women who choose to love them. All white women love
Indian men. That is always the case. White women feign disgust

at the savage in blue jeans and T-shirt, but secretly lust after him.
White women dream about half-breed Indian men from horse cultures.

Indian men are horses, smelling wild and gamey. When the Indian man
unbuttons his pants, the white woman should think of topsoil.

There must be one murder, one suicide, one attempted rape.
Alcohol should be consumed. Cars must be driven at high speeds.

Indians must see visions. White people can have the same visions
if they are in love with Indians. If a white person loves an Indian

then the white person is Indian by proximity. White people must carry
an Indian deep inside themselves. Those interior Indians are half-breed

and obviously from horse cultures. If the interior Indian is male
then he must be a warrior, especially if he is inside a white man.

If the interior Indian is female, then she must be a healer, especially if she is inside
a white woman. Sometimes there are complications.

An Indian man can be hidden inside a white woman. An Indian woman
can be hidden inside a white man. In these rare instances,

everybody is a half-breed struggling to learn more about his or her horse culture.
There must be redemption, of course, and sins must be forgiven.

For this, we need children. A white child and an Indian child, gender
not important, should express deep affection in a childlike way.

In the Great American Indian novel, when it is finally written,
all of the white people will be Indians and all of the Indians will be ghosts.