Did you know that you it’s possible to get arsenic poisoning when you dress up in a rubber ox suit in a bar for a strange mermaid act? A little something I learned from this novel that I read back in February (I’m way behind with my book reviews): The Night Watchman, by Louise Erdrich. I got this as a paperback for my birthday last year from Partner, who knows how much I love Erdrich’s novels. Inexplicably, I never got around to reading it, until my birthday had almost rolled round again.
This novel is not set on or around the fictitious reservation where Erdrich’s other novels are usually set. It is based on real events and is a novelization of the story of her grandfather who was an activist for Native American rights in the 1950s. He played an important role in preventing the termination of the Turtle Mountain band of Chippewa. As far as I’ve gathered from the novel, termination meant that Native American tribes were to be no longer acknowledged as tribes by the U.S. government, making it extremely easy for them to lose their land as they were no longer protected by treaties (that were supposed to last forever). Erdrich explains this in the novel and in an afterword.
As usual, there is a large cast of characters with many smaller plotlines. We get stories from the characters’ past as well as their present, but it seemed to me that this novel is a little more straightforward in its narrative structure than some of Erdrich’s other novels. There are two main plotlines in the novel, that of Thomas Wazhushk, the titular night watchman, and that of Patrice (Pixie) Paranteau. Thomas is the night watchman at a small factory where “jewel bearings” are produced – a fiddly procedure mostly done by women, as their fingers are nimbler than men’s. Patrice is one of the best workers. They are also distantly related.
Thomas is an important person in his tribe and community. He was educated at one of those boarding schools that Native American children were forced to attend, but he’s also steeped in tradition, because of his father, with whom he is very close. He still grapples with some of the horrible abuse that happened to children at that school (if not so much to himself). He is (more or less reluctantly) one of the main drivers in the fight against the threat of termination for his tribe. Pixie also supports this goal, but at the beginning, her main story is about finding her sister, who moved to Minneapolis with her new husband and then was never heard from again.
Minneapolis is where the episode with the ox-mermaid act happens. It’s actually quite an awful and dangerous situation, although Patrice uses it to her advantage. She is resourceful and self-assured (even if she doubts herself). Minneapolis is the setting for the abduction and abuse of young, poor, and inexperienced women (especially Native Americans) who end up as unwilling and abused prostitutes. Patrice doesn’t manage to find her sister but does rescue someone else.
Later, Patrice supports Thomas on his trip to a senate hearing about the proposed termination bill. We also learn what happened to her sister and we have a resolution for an unquiet spirit. There are lots of stories on the side that flesh out the main and secondary characters – as usual, Erdrich’s novel fits together like a mural made up of lots of small mosaic stones. I loved it and don’t know why I waited almost a year before I read it.
I enjoyed the many details. Thomas’ loving relationship with his family and specially his 90+ year old father. Patrice sleeping in a snowy cave with a bear. The ghost story (tragic as it was). The young academic, Millie, who played such an important role in gathering evidence against termination. The wise dogs (and that other poor dog). The fight for better conditions at the factory. The clever wiliness of some of the characters. An excellent read.
A personal note: Patrice’s experience when she got glasses resonated with me – it’s almost exactly what I experienced when I got my first pair of glasses at twelve:
The precision of the world took her breath away. The crisp lines of brick. The legibility of signs on doors. The needles of pines standing out sharp against more needles and the darkly figured back of the trunk. […]
The glasses made her feel like her feet were very far away.
Louise Erdrich, The Night Watchman. 2020, p. 375
I loved my glasses then, and still love them now.
Lesser Leaves 