Reviews
From Booklist , February 15, 1996
Silko's concise essays are like songs; their harmonies are autobiographical,
their melodies topical. The source of their
understated emotional timbre is a carefully controlled blend of pride in
Pueblo heritage and anger over the
perpetuation of injustice against Native Americans. Although these low-key
song-essays are free of fancy
modulations and theatrics, they're rich in story and observation. Silko,
whose mixed Laguna and white heritage has
made her exceptionally sensitive to issues of race, weaves episodes from
her life into musings on the inclusiveness of
the ancient Pueblo vision, how integral place is to the Pueblo ethos and
sense of identity, and how stories are a
vibrant part of everyday Pueblo life, establishing and preserving a web
of meaning, memory, and knowledge. In her
arresting title essay, Silko contrasts Native American and European American
standards of feminine beauty, then
introduces the heroic figure of Yellow Woman, whose strength, courage,
and "vibrant sexuality" were boons to her
people. Silko's insights fill our minds like sun warms rock, or a quiet
rain saturates dry ground. Donna Seaman
Copyright© 1996, American Library Association. All rights reserved
--This text refers to an out of print or
unavailable edition of this title.
From Kirkus Reviews , January 1, 1996
In these previously published essays and stories centered on the Pueblo
peoples of the Southwest, Silko (Almanac of
the Dead, 1991) weaves together autobiographical material with current
and ancient Native American tales. She also
blasts a broad array of individuals, professions, and government bodies
with often unsubstantiated accusations, and
plays fast and loose with matters of science and history. Emphasizing the
importance of storytelling as unifier and
guidepost in the Pueblo culture, Silko is at her best when recounting stories
that demonstrate the strong spiritual
relationship of the people to the land's animate and inanimate objects,
as in the tale of a drowned child whose clothes
magically turn into desert butterflies or in the story of Yellow Woman,
who agrees to go away with a buffalo spirit so
that her tribe will always have food. Silko also collects modern tribal
tales: There is, for instance, a story about a
giant stone snake that is discovered at the site of a uranium mine, auguring,
Silko suggests, the return of the tribal
peoples to their ancestral lands. Elsewhere, Silko rails against the historic
confiscation of tribal lands and to some
extent details the continuing political struggle for the return of these
lands and land-use rights. While her sincerity is
unquestioned, and though she has a twice-told run-in with INS agents, readers
may become impatient with the barbs
tossed without elaboration at anthropologists and archaeologists, and with
blanket assertions about ``greedy elected
officials'' or the existence of a ``police state'' in the Southwest run
by the Border Patrol. At best, her evidence for
these charges is anecdotal and circumstantial. One wishes Silko had confined
this volume to storytelling and
remembrances of her life and her ancestors' lives; the contribution she
is capable of bringing to the reader's
appreciation of the Pueblo culture is diluted by unsupportable and tired
diatribe. -- Copyright ©1996, Kirkus
Associates, LP. All rights reserved. --This text refers to an out of print
or unavailable edition of this title.
Reviews
Amazon.com
In 1900 the West was still wild. Anglo-Americans were tearing up the countryside
in the name of progress, and pity
the Indians who stood in the way. To this canvas Leslie Marmon Silko, author
of such well-received novels as Almanac
of the Dead and Ceremony, brings her brush. Gardens in the Dunes begins
and ends at a hidden garden near the
Colorado River on the California-Arizona border. But Silko covers ground
that includes the early stages of women's
rights, emerging female sexuality, the rape of the Amazon, early quack
medicine, Gnostic mysteries, Celtic magic, and
flower husbandry. Her palette has many colors, but everywhere the garden
is a central theme.
Grandmother Fleet, one of the few remaining Sand Lizard Indians, tends
a traditional desert garden while teaching the
old ways to her granddaughters Sister Salt and Indigo. At a time of crushing
hopelessness, Wovoka's Ghost Dance
messianic movement appears, drawing in the girls and Grandmother Fleet:
While the others danced with eyes focussed on the fire, Indigo watched
the weird shadows play on the
hillsides, so she was one of the first to see the Messiah and his family
as they stepped out of darkness
into the glow of swirling snowflakes. How their white robes shined!
Indigo is also one of the first to sense the approach of soldiers and Indian
police bent on breaking up the gathering.
The action then moves her from the secret garden and small family to an
Indian school in Riverside. She eventually
flees the school and ends up traveling through Europe with an aristocratic
Victorian family, as companion to an
unmarried woman. Despite her many adventures and her exposure to a life
of privilege and luxury, Indigo never loses
her affinity for the traditions of her own people. Silko uses this novel
to explore contrasts between Native American
and European customs and morals--with white culture often coming up short.
On occasion this ambitious novel strays
into the political proper, but there's no denying the sheer force of Silko's
prose and the sweep of her story. Gardens
in the Dunes offers both a vivid portrait of 19th-century Native American
life and a provocative exploration of
disparate cultures' relationships to the world around them --Schuyler Engle
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