In Defense of Peripheral Narration: Fitzgerald Vs Hokeah in a Battle of Class, POV, and Power
Have you heard of a book called The Great Gatsby? It's written by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Most folks read it in high school. I didn't make it to high school (the last grade I completed was the sixth grade) so I didn't read it until I was an adult (after I went on to obtain a Master's Degree). If you remember, the novel is told by a character, Nick Carraway, about another character, Jay Gatsby. The reason I'm bringing up this particular book is two fold: (1) It's well known, and (2) it's a popular example of peripheral narration, where one character tells the story of another character. Don't worry this is not a rehearsal of Fitzgerald's novel. Instead it's an allusion to mine.
If I were to make a comparison between The Great Gatsby and my debut novel, Calling for a Blanket Dance, I'd argue it takes peripheral narration and amplifies it. Why? I enhance it with polyvocality. Both books are short reads that pack a big punch, yes. But we, Fitzgerald and I, operate from opposite ends of the class spectrum. As you probably know, The Great Gatsby is about the wealthy and critiques the American Dream by showcasing the underbelly of the uber-rich, where Calling for a Blanket Dance is an homage to the working class, who aren't trying to stratify a system but simply want to live without becoming victims to a movable standard. The Great Gatsby is to the wealthy what Calling for a Blanket Dance is to the working poor.
“There are only the pursued, the pursuing, the busy and the tired.” ― F. Scott Fitzgerald,The Great Gatsby
All that aside, let's think about the periphery. If we were in a creative writing class, I'd probably give you reasons why an author, such as myself and "old boy" Fitzgerald, would employ it as a technique. These reasons tend to be somewhat obvious, like the main character might have a secret, she or he might die during the course of the novel, they could be unlikable and therefore not relatable, and/or each story might be more important to the narrator(s) than it is to the main character. But this is not a creative writing class so I'll not go on about those.
What I will address is the richness of peripheral narration when doubly executed with polyvocality. What happens when 11 different people tell a story about you? If they were coworkers, we'd probably get the down and dirty about your shady-ass past and how you're not as angelic as you might think you are. If it's your family, then we'll get something a little more diverse, a little softness to go along with the prickly. Bittersweet, if you will. And I'll argue here that we'd get more depth about you as a person from your family than we would from you. Using peripheral narration mixed with polyvocality gives readers a much richer and deeper understanding of a main character.
“Let us learn to show our friendship for a man when he is alive and not after he is dead.” ― F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
Ultimately, it gives us more than the typical drama triangle (villain, victim, hero). Instead we move away from Western traditions in literature and step a little closer toward Indigenous ideology, like shaping an entire novel on traditional Kiowa and Comanche customs (say a Blanket Dance, maybe). Here the community has agency--not the individual--where a collective center from a tribally specific and historically targeted community wrap around each other in support, healing, and decolonization. Where we acknowledge how we are shaped by the people who love us the hardest. Moreover, where a chorus of voices sing in rhythm with a single thundering drum, reverberating out and across the planet to announce: our power is back.
"Stunning" Novel Cover: Symbolic Representations in Post-Modern Art Forms
There are two questions I love most when it comes to talking about my debut novel. One has to do with the structure, with it's polyvocality laid atop time jumps spanning three decades, and the other has to do with the cover. It's a striking image. An image that conveys perfectly the post-modern fracture experienced by the main character, Ever Geimausaddle, and his resilient trek through the process of decolonization.
There are so many layers to this cover, but before I jump into the nitty gritty I'd like to take a moment to talk about the initial reaction to the image. Covers are designed to do one thing more than anything else: Grab the reader. It's supposed to get a reader's attention so that they'll want to further examine the contents. My hat goes off to Christopher Moisan, who is the Creative Director at Algonquin Books. He did an amazing job creating such a wonderful design. I'll discuss here in a moment about how each layer of the image speaks so clearly to the novel. I wanted to acknowledge first how striking the image is and how perfectly it grabs the eye.
Christopher suggested using the artist who created the image, Christin Apodaca. She had been on his radar for a while and he thought her post-modern style matched perfectly with the post-modern aspects of my brand of literary fiction. She is from El Paso, Texas and representative of Latinx communities. I'm half Mexican, with my father being from Aldama, Chihuahua, Mexico, so it was important to work with Hispanic artists from communities of color. And I can't say enough how important it is to support women artists in a field dominated by men. Christin's murals can be found at different locations in the city of El Paso, TX. You can also discover her art here: http://www.capodaca.com/.
Christopher took the power of Christin's image and enhanced it with deeper symbols. The image itself is ripe with symbolic representation. In black and white alone, the dollar bill and sash sends my mind toward Kiowa and Comanche gourd dances. Those of us who engage in traditional gourd dances know that a crumpled dollar bill dropped at the feet of a dancer signifies a process of honoring. I immediately connected how the main character, Ever Geimausaddle, is trying to live with honor. With the sash coming down, I knew this honor was inextricably tied to his family and his community. Christin did a superb job of picking up on those very important symbols in the novel. I can't even imagine the arduous task of reading someone's novel and then coming up with a visual representation of the novel's theme. Christin did exactly that, and she did so with the exquisite detail of her personal style, which I describe as a post-modern Salvador Dali style. And it matched perfectly with the post-modern structure of the novel.
Then we get the brilliance of Christopher Moisan at work. So how does a Creative Director go from this amazing sketch to a final product that will grab a reader's attention? I asked for the image to be made into color and Christopher was on the same page. I let him know to make the sash half red and half navy blue. These are the colors that Kiowa and Comanche dancers wear. I asked for him to place the red on top to signify that the main character, Ever Geimausaddle, is Kiowa. If it were navy blue on top then it would signify Comanche. While Christopher couldn't make the blue a navy blue because it would've printed too dark on paper and wouldn't have looked blue at all. Moreover, it would've erased all of Christin's beautiful line work. So Christopher went with a royal blue with dark line work. I understood his reasoning. It's not only how the colors come out in a jpeg, but also how it prints on paper. Once he filled the image with color not only did the sash pop but the dollar bill as well.
Now the image was an accurate depiction of what I grew up seeing at the gourd dances. I'm a gourd dancer myself. My family (Hokeah/Tashequah) has organized gourd dances for decades on the Southern Plains of Oklahoma. We're tied into some of the oldest Kiowa and Comanche Societies, such as the Kiowa Tia-Piah, Comanche War Scouts, and Comanche Little Ponies.
So I'll be honest here. I gave Christopher a hard time, or maybe I was just a little picky. I hope I wasn't too much of a pain. I wanted to get the colors right. When the ARCs printed, the image came out a little too artificial, I thought. I asked Christopher if the final book was going to do the same. He assured us that he had immediately contacted the printer and discussed the issue. I felt like a bit of a diva. I didn't want any part of the image to come off as artificial, and Christopher was a saint. I'm extremely grateful to have this opportunity to showcase my writing. I feel very fortunate to be in this position. I hope I wasn't too much of a nag. I felt like I kept asking for tweaks here and there. Subtle requests that may have been too often. But I'm grateful Christopher was willing to hear me out and modify at each stage.
What truly made the image resonate for me was the overall design. Christopher came back with a couple background settings. When I saw that pattern atop the orange, I immediately thought of the main character's grandmother, Lena Stopp. Just to explain the brilliant mind of an amazing Creative Director, let me tell you how deep this image goes. Notice the grid. The subtle squares in the background behind Christin's image. The bold orange background beneath red squared patterns, with those splashes of yellow. It's one of Lena's quilts! Now you're about to say I'm giving away a spoiler. You're asking, "Lena makes quilts in the novel?" She does, but this is divulged in the first chapter. You can read the first chapter via Buzz Books through Publishers Marketplace. So I'm not giving away any spoilers that aren't found in the first chapter.
What makes this so special is how Christopher turned the cover into a representation of a bird. Why is that important? As you read the first chapter, you learn that Lena Stopp makes grandchild quilts. On those quilts, she places images of birds. She does so because her family belongs to the Bird Clan in the Cherokee tribe. She uses the quilts as a way to keep her family connected to each other. I got the idea from my own mother, Virgilene Hokeah. My mother makes grandchild quilts for all her grandchildren. They all have the exact same pattern, but each quilt is made of a different color scheme. It captures her grandchildren's uniqueness and their ties to her, simultaneously. Similarly, Lena Stopp uses bird symbols to represent the Bird Clan so her grandchildren will know they are connected to the Cherokee community.
Understanding how to work with artists is an amazing talent. Christopher was able to take Christin's sketch and read my novel and come up with a way to capture the heart of the main character, Ever Geimausaddle. There's an important detail with Lena's quilts that I'll not be able to mention here. It comes in the final chapter of the novel. I'll have to let you discover that element yourself. But I would like to say is how much thought and care went into this cover. While it certainly does its job of grabbing someone's attention, it also speaks to a team of brilliant minds who think beyond simple surface qualities, who can see concepts behind imagery, and has the capacity to dream big and reach deep into the emotional center of a story.
The Revival of Juxtaposition & the Reveal of Thematics
When we pick up any literary novel we must commit to being an active reader. We can be entertained by the surface plot and the triangulation between characters, certainly. But the purpose of literary fiction is to dive deeper into the text and search for symbols. Not only the symbols that comprise a larger thematic in a storyline, but, more importantly, the symbols that shape the really real world we walk through every day.
We can all make a case for engaging in a storyline passively. Sometimes we need to veg out on our favorite television show after a long day of hard work. Or we can reread one of our favorite books from one of our favorite authors. We know what's coming. It's not going to surprise us, and in fact we're looking for those predictable forms of entertainment as a way to escape our every day grind.
Then there comes those who are students of the game. Sometimes life gets a little too predictable and we need nourishment and intellectual stimulation. This is where literary fiction shines. Writers like Louise Erdrich, Toni Morrison, Alice Munro, and the like can entice us with intriguing worlds through beautiful sentences. And the deeper we look at their work, searching for the images and characters that represent something greater, we can discover insights into the human condition that make us into better people. Our empathy skills increase and we can better navigate social situations, with the hopes of creating a more just world.
When I think back on some of my favorite literary novels, I'm always remembering characters weighed against other characters, like in Louise Erdrich's novel The Roundhouse, where the treatment of Geraldine Coutts becomes even more profound as we learn more about Sonja. Equally, how Gabriel Garcia Marquez's novel One Hundred Years of Solitude exposes a new layer to humanity with each generation of the Buendia family. So when we exercise the power of juxtaposition, the multiple layers expose a greater truth. And often this truth gives us a hard look in the mirror, forcing us to self examine our own contributions to societal ills.
Ultimately, the reason I'm discussing juxtaposition today has to do with dynamics in my own writing. I'm brainstorming book 5 right now and searching for more details as the story concept floats around in the back of my mind. Also, much of my fiction, which is literary fiction, is developed through a variety of devices--one being juxtaposition--and I can't help but think of how each character weighs against the others.
"I'm always trying to find 'connections' between things. That art is the juxtaposition of a lot of things that seem unrelated but add up to something recognizable." - Pat Metheny
This dynamic plays out with much intentionality in my debut novel, Calling for a Blanket Dance. The novel is told by 12 different narrators with the purpose of juxtaposing each. Moreover, how each narrator compares and contrasts to the main character, Ever Geimausaddle. In fact, the thematics of the novel can only be discovered by juxtaposition. So much so, in the final critical moment of the novel, the reader must ask themselves: how would each of the previous 11 narrators act in this moment? Would they have done what Ever did in the final scene? I'm keeping these questions ambiguous right now because the novel doesn't release until July 26, 2022. I'll do my best here to not give away any spoilers. But it's the power of juxtaposition that offers the novel its greatest impact.
A longtime effort of mine, which is also showcased in the debut, is to disrupt the perception of Native Americans being a single homogenous group. Each tribe has beautiful differences, and we are drawn together under a shared colonial history. It's the power of juxtaposition that gives me the ability to show this tribal diversity on the page. The main character, like myself, belongs to two different tribes: Kiowa and Cherokee. I'm able to compare and contrast Cherokee communities with Kiowa communities. The first chapter is narrated by Lena Stopp, who is Cherokee, and then the second chapter is narrated by Vincent Geimausaddle, who is Kiowa. Each chapter moves back and forth between Kiowa and Cherokee community members so the reader can see those beautiful differences. Oklahoma has 39 different tribes and those of us who grew up here know these differences well, but if you're not consistently in our circles it can be difficult to distinguish. Juxtaposition gives me the opportunity to show readers a side of the Native American world they may have not yet considered.
“Creativity is that marvelous capacity to grasp mutually distinct realities and draw a spark from their juxtaposition.” ― Max Ernst
I only have time here to touch the surface of how juxtaposition plays out in my debut. As you come to know the characters, you'll see why Sissy narrates Lonnie's story and then how Lonnie and Leander compare and contrast. Moreover, how Ever Geimausaddle compares to his grandfather, Vincent. Does Ever pick up where Vincent left off? What does Ever do differently? How does this choice alter Ever's life? I could go on and on. The debut is so rich with juxtaposition, like Opbee and Lena, Turtle and Lila, Quinton and Ever (Sun Boy Split in Half). And it's only enhanced by the cultural elements throughout the novel. There is so much to discuss that I could go on and on for hours if not pages, and I hope you pick up a copy of Calling for a Blanket Dance so we can talk about these amazing details. I'm looking forward to the rich discussions this novel will generate.
Lately, I've found myself thinking a lot about the power of juxtaposition and how much we need to exercise this muscle as readers. It gives us the opportunity to view another person's hardships with empathy, but it also creates a much richer existence, where our quality of life is enhanced by a simple task: compare and contrast. And when we do so with purpose and intent, we can better see the world through someone else's eyes.
(Images were borrowed from Flickr)
Debut Novel: CALLING FOR A BLANKET DANCE
I'm excited to announce my debut novel, CALLING FOR A BLANKET DANCE, is scheduled to release on July 26, 2022. It's published by Algonquin Books and edited by Kathy Pories. I'm represented by Allie Levick of Writers House.
The heart of the novel has to do with family, naw thep'thay'gaw, and how families show up for each other. The title of the novel comes from an important ritual in powwow culture. When we call for a blanket dance, in essence what we’re doing is asking for the community to step up and help out someone in need. The main character, Ever Geimausaddle, has a host of family members willing to do just that, willing to hear the call, step up to the edges of the blanket, and offer a piece of themselves for his greater healing.
The structure of the novel is told in 12 chapter/narrator fashion, and we hear from different family members, like grandparents, aunties, uncles, cousins, and then in the last chapter Ever Geimausaddle speaks for himself. Ever's identity becomes shaped by Kiowa, Cherokee, and Mexican relatives, and the crux of the novel has his family concerned for his changing identity as a man. His Cherokee grandmother, Lena Stopp, fears the brutal trauma he experiences as an infant will forever leave him "witched," while his Kiowa grandfather, Vincent Geimausaddle, fights to change Ever's fate with his dying breath. Moreover, his Mexican American cousin, Araceli Chavez, is the conduit for deep familial healing. So family member after family member step up to the edges of the blanket to offer a piece of themselves. But will this be enough?
As Ever grows into adulthood, readers will get to explore large and unique themes situated in tribally specific values, like tribal masculinity, communal ideology, and collective identities. Furthermore, readers will follow Ever Geimausaddle through the ups and downs of living an intertribal and multicultural life in Oklahoma, offering a slice of America very few know about.
I'd like to thank Algonquin Books and Workman Publishing for this amazing opportunity. I'm excited to offer readers a unique experience through my gritty and honest voice. I can promise you this: my hard-hitting conversational style is nothing like you've experienced before.
Stay tuned here on my blog or on my social media accounts for the latest news from my debut novel: CALLING FOR A BLANKET DANCE. Please help a new writer by sharing with friends and family. The novel is posted on Goodreads so don't forget to add this novel on your "To Read" list. Soon I'll be announcing the cover reveal. It's an amazing cover from a very talented artist. Can't wait to share the cover and the artist with everyone.
More soon...