Nirliit / Juliana Léveillé-Trudel; translated from the French by Anita Anand.
Montreal: Esplanade, c2018.
145 p.
This unusual read is written by a Quebecoise woman who works summers in the Nunavik area of Northern Quebec. She has created a novel in two parts; the first is the narrator speaking to her lost friend Eva, who was murdered during the year the narrator was back down south. In the second she speaks to Eva's son Elijah as he makes his way as a young man without a mother.
The narrator flies north (and south again) like the geese, nirliit. She includes a list of vocabulary at the beginning of the book, and many of these Inuttitut words are sprinkled throughout the text, giving it a stronger sense of place.
It's a serious novel, with the narrator highlighting both the beauty of the isolated tundra and the social problems found in Salluit. The Inuit struggle to live meaningful lives in the face of addictions, racism and domestic violence, all realities arising from the lifestyle that they've been forced into through government decisions around resettlement and resource extraction in the past. But their resilience and perseverance is also noted, and the desire for education as a way out.
Focusing in on Eva's life and the repercussions of her murder personalizes the narrative, rather than just being a set of generalizations. Her life, family and friendships resonate throughout the book, continuing on into the ways her son manages once she is gone, with his own relationships and children appearing. Characters are complicated and individual, making their own decisions independently; they are not caricatures.
The story is based in the author's experiences, and so is told from an outsider's perspective. She acknowledges the problems she sees all around her, but in a compassionate way, in a style that seems to also acknowledge her own part in the situation as a Southerner and Canadian. It has an overtone of recognition and apology, while clearly revealing her deep love for the land and the community, her friend Eva in particular.
It was not what I expected, but was a beautifully written and powerful exploration of the realities of life in the North for many isolated communities. I appreciated that she spoke from her own perspective and did not try to speak for the Inuit - this is her own story of life in Salluit as an outsider.
A really different read, sombre and yet with glimpses of light. I think it's important for Canadians in particular to see and understand the lives that our governments have so strongly affected.
Read an interview with the author at Quebec Reads to learn more about the inspiration behind this book.
Sanaaq: an Inuit novel / Mitiarjuk Nappaaluk; transliterated and translated from Inuktitut to French by Bernard Saladin d'Anglure, translated from French by Peter Frost.
Winnipeg: University of Manitoba Press, c2014.
In my search for Canadian novels that have been translated from languages other than French I recalled this one, originally written in Inuktitut by this amazing woman over many years, starting in the 50's. Published in Inuktitut in 1983, it was published in French in 2002, and now finally we have an English version. The introduction places it in its context and give us an understanding of how and why it was written, which I found helpful. It also tells us a bit more about Mitiarjuk Nappaaluk herself.
It's an episodic novel, with Sanaaq as the main character. She is an Inuk woman who has one young daughter at the start of novel; she remarries a young hunter and has a son as the story progresses. It's told from Sanaaq's viewpoint, and is made up of brief chapters explaining or illustrating a common event in Inuit lives. In the introduction we learn that this novel was started as a way for Catholic priests to learn more local terms as they attempted to create a dictionary; Mitiarjuk was well known and respected for her many skills, so stepped in to help. But she found just writing vocabulary-heavy pieces dull so started to include imaginative chapters, morphing this task into a creative storytelling project.
Through Sanaaq's eyes we see the daily activities of her settlement -- building igloos, hunting, fishing, digging clams, raising children, being terrified by polar bears, surviving storms, and more -- and we also get a feel for the traditional activities that women carried on, as well as the interpersonal ups and downs among the residents of her small circle. Some people are competent (Sanaaq in particular) and some are just unlucky, like Jiimialuk who loses an eye while cooking, and later dies in a hunting accident. Sanaaq's daughter grows in age and responsibility, and we see her awareness of community standards growing, as well as her understanding of why young people need to respect the knowledge of their elders. All of these characters are used to illuminate the way of life that Mitiarjuk had experienced, but more than just stand-ins for her messages, they become lively personalities.
As the book goes on, and Mitiarjuk was able to write more freely, there is more frank talk of sexuality, spousal abuse, traditional spiritual beliefs ,and more. While this book is not a novel in the sense of having a plot that is carried through and resolved, it does have some great characters and a really interesting narrative voice. Mitiarjuk Nappaaluk was given a PhD by McGill University in 2000, and was recognized by UNESCO in 2001 for her literary and artistic contributions to maintaining and communicating Inuit culture. Her lively storytelling certainly fascinated me.
The book has retained a generous amount of Inuktitut terminology - many things are referred to only by Inuktitut names. In context it is pretty simple to figure out what the word signifies, and there is also a nice glossary at the back. I liked the feel it gave to the book, like it was really a story someone was telling. But there were a few animals referred to, like sculpin or other shore creatures, that I wasn't familiar with whether in English or Inuktitut. Luckily for me, just as I was finishing Sanaaq, I came across a picture book in my library called Alego.
Alego / Ningeokuluk Teevee; translated from Inuktitut by Nina Manning-Toonoo
Toronto: Groundwood, c2009.
24 p.
Ningeokuluk Teevee is an artist who lives in Cape Dorset, Nunavut. She wrote and illustrated this picture book, which is a brief story of a young girl, Alego, who goes clam digging for the first time with her grandmother, Anaanatsiaq. When they get to the shore, her grandmother starts collecting clams, but like any other young child, Alego wanders and explores all the different creatures she can find. All of these creatures are shared using their Inuktitut names, and luckily for me, many of them are the same as those mentioned in Sanaaq, particularly of course those in the clam digging chapter! There is also a helpful glossary in this book, which includes illustrations, which was very enjoyable and illuminated my understanding of both books.
This picture book was charming, showing the close relationship between a young girl and her grandparents. It also shares a little of the landscape of Baffin Island, an unusual setting for a picture book. I also appreciated how the text is shown in both Inuktitut syllabics and English - it really lends that sense of the story being rooted in its community.
I greatly enjoyed both these books, as excursions into a language and a lifestyle I'm not very familiar with.
Nirliit / Juliana Léveillé-Trudel; translated from the French by Anita Anand.
