Saturday, May 02, 2015

Richard Van Camp's THE BLUE RAVEN

New this year (2015) is Richard Van Camp's graphic novel, The Blue Raven. Illustrated by Steven Keewatin Sanderson, the story is about a stolen bicycle, and, healing. Here's the cover:



The bike, named Blue Raven, belongs to a kid named Benji. He comes out of the library (how cool is that?) and his bike is gone (not cool!). Trevor, the older brother of a kid in his class, sees Benji and offers to help him find the bike.

This isn't just any bike (no bike is, really), but this one? Benji's dad gave it to him when he moved out of their house.

When Benji was born, his dad called him Tatso because his eyes were the same blue color as a baby raven's eyes. Tatso is a Tlicho word. It means Blue Raven.  And--it is the name his dad called the bike, too.

As you might imagine, it is very special to Benji.


We learn all that--and more--as Benji and Trevor drive around on Trevor's four-wheeler, looking for the bike. Trevor is Metis, but wasn't raised with Native traditions in the same way that Benji was. Indeed, there is a moment when Trevor mocks Benji. Confident in what he knows and bolstered by memories of time with members of the community, Benji counters Trevor, who is taken aback and a bit snarky. By the end of this short graphic novel, though, Trevor is with Benji at a gathering where Trevor is invited to dance and the two have agreed to keep looking for the Blue Raven.

Steven Keewatin Sanderson's illustrations are terrific! From anger over his bike being stolen, to the tears Benji sheds in the flashback parts of the story, to the community scenes at the drum dance, they are a perfect match for Van Camp's story. Keep an eye out for his work!

The Blue Raven, published in 2015 by Pearson, is part of its Well Aware series and sold as a package. However, it can be purchased directly from Richard Van Camp at his site. I highly recommend it.

HUNTERS OF CHAOS by Crystal Velasquez

Anytime someone writes a book--yes, even a work of fiction--that gets basic facts about Native people wrong, it is going to get a 'not recommended' from me.

It doesn't matter, to me, how well-written the story might be and it doesn't matter if the book itself has a protagonist or a cast of characters that are from a marginalized group or groups. Nobody in a marginalized group should be expected to endure the misrepresentation of their own people for the sake of another group. And, all readers who walk away with this misrepresentation as "knowledge" are not well served, either.

So, let's take a look at Hunters of Chaos. The synopsis, from Simon and Schuster:

Four girls at a southwestern boarding school discover they have amazing feline powers and must unite to stop an ancient evil in this riveting adventure.
Ana’s average, suburban life is turned upside down when she’s offered a place at the exclusive boarding school in New Mexico that both of her late parents attended. As she struggles to navigate the wealthy cliques of her new school, mysterious things begin to occur: sudden power failures, terrible storms, and even an earthquake!
Ana soon learns that she and three other girls—with Chinese, Navajo, and Egyptian heritages—harbor connections to priceless objects in the school’s museum, and the museum’s curator, Ms.Benitez, is adamant that the girls understand their ancestry. 
It turns out that the school sits on top of a mysterious temple, the ancient meeting place of the dangerous Brotherhood of Chaos. And when one of the priceless museum objects is shattered, the girls find out exactly why their heritage is so important: they have the power to turn into wild cats! Now in their powerful forms of jaguar, tiger, puma, and lion they must work together to fight the chaos spirits unleashed in the ensuing battle…and uncover the terrifying plans of those who would reconvene the Brotherhood of Chaos.

Intriguing? Yes. But... Soon after Ana arrives at the school, there's an earthquake that exposes the mysterious temple. Skipping ahead (for the moment), we learn that the school is (p. 110):
"...yards away from a thriving Native American community, descendants of the Anasazi people..."
For now, I am focusing on the word "Anasazi." For a very long time, that Navajo word was used to describe the people who lived in the cliff houses in New Mexico, Colorado, Arizona, and Utah. The word is no longer in use. Today, "Ancestral Pueblo People" is the phrase people use, because it is the right one to use.

Mesa Verde, Bandelier, Chaco Canyon and others are part of the National Park Service. If you click on those links, you'll see they use "ancestral Pueblo/Pueblo People" rather than "Anasazi."

For a long time, literature associated with those sites said that the "Anasazi" people who lived there had vanished. They didn't. Like any people, anywhere in the world, they moved to other locations when conditions changed. In recognition of that fact, the National Park Service and other government sites stopped using Anasazi and started using Ancestral Pueblo People instead. Another good example is the Bureau of Land Management's page, Who were the Ancestral Pueblo People (Anasazi?).

The massive amounts of literature that used "Anasazi" is probably why Velasquez used it in her book. I wish she had actually looked up the sites I linked to... she'd have avoided the problems in Hunters of Chaos. 

In Hunters of Chaos, Doli is Navajo. Back on page 53 (after they've learned about the temple), Lin (she's the Chinese character) and Doli have an argument. Lin has an expensive purse. Doli makes a sarcastic remark about it, and Lin tells her she's just jealous because she's poor and therefore doesn't belong at the school. Doli says (p. 53):
"I don't belong here?" [...] "You must have been asleep during assembly today. That temple back there means I'm the only one who belongs here."
"Oh, give me a break," Lin said, then sucked her teeth and flicked her hand dismissively. "I was wide awake during Dr. Hottie's speech, and he said the temple was Anasazi, not Navajo." 
Doli, completely unfazed, sighed as if she were tired of explaining the obvious. "The Anasazi were an ancient people who lived on this land. In other words, they were my ancestors. Anasazi literally means 'ancient ones' in Navajo."
So. Doli is Navajo. Some people say Anasazi means "ancient ones" and some say it means "enemy people." Whether it meant ancient ones or enemy people, the key thing is that it definitely did not refer to Navajo people. Interestingly, there is a place in the book where we read that Anasazi means ancient pueblo peoples. At that point in the book, the kids have organized an exhibit to show people what the school's museum has--including artifacts from that temple.

Among the people who come to the exhibit is a family from Doli's reservation (the community that thrives a few yards away from the school). A woman speaks to Doli in Navajo. Ana asks her what the woman said. Here's from page 129:
"She said she was glad she could come. They heard about the temple and are excited about it. She didn't think that the ancient Pueblo peoples were active here, so they are very interested in seeing what was found."
See that "ancient Pueblo peoples"? Does the woman think it is her Navajo ancestors?

The confusion between Navajo and Pueblo is a big deal. We're talking about two distinct nations of people.

There are other problems. On page 64, the anthropologist (Dr. Logan) says that Ancient Egyptians, the Ashanti people of West Africa, and the Anasazi worshipped cats. That's the first I ever heard of that said about Pueblo people!

And when Doli starts talking about shape shifting, she doesn't sound like she really grew up there (p. 158):
"Navajo folklore is full of stories about shape-shifters, but I'm not even sure the people on the reservation would believe me."
When the girls first shape shift, Doli says (p. 169):
"I'm glad it happened that way, and not how the Navajo legends say people usually become shape-shifters." [...] "They perform all kinds of evil rites to get the power. I'm talking witchcraft and murder."
When they try to shift later on purpose, they chant Navajo words that Doli taught them. And on page 240, Doli says a few words in Navajo that, she tells us, is a saying amongst her people that means "When you see a rattlesnake poised to strike, strike first." Is that a Navajo saying? I see it attributed to Franklin Delano Roosevelt, but I also find it on a bunch of "Indian proverbs" page, with it being attributed to Navajos. I'll keep digging on that saying. Maybe it IS a Navajo one.

Velasquez is working on a sequel to this book. I hope this confusion between two nations does not continue. Published in 2015 by Simon and Schuster, I cannot recommend Hunters of Chaos. 

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

emily m. danforth's THE MISEDUCATION OF CAMERON POST

emily m. danforth's The Miseducation of Cameron Post made quite a splash when it was published in 2012. Published by Balzar + Bray (an imprint of HarperCollins), it won the 2012 Montana Book Award, was a finalist for the William C. Morris Young Adult Debut Award, and was named a winner in the young adult category of the 2013 Lamba Literary Awards. Here's the synopsis:
Set in rural Montana in the early 1990s, emily m. danforth’s The Miseducation of Cameron Post is a powerful and widely acclaimed YA coming-of-age novel in the tradition of the classic Annie on My Mind. Cameron Post feels a mix of guilt and relief when her parents die in a car accident. Their deaths mean they will never learn the truth she eventually comes to—that she's gay. Orphaned, Cameron comes to live with her old-fashioned grandmother and ultraconservative aunt Ruth. There she falls in love with her best friend, a beautiful cowgirl. When she’s eventually outed, her aunt sends her to God’s Promise, a religious conversion camp that is supposed to “cure” her homosexuality. At the camp, Cameron comes face to face with the cost of denying her true identity.
I know about Adam Red Eagle, one of the characters in it, because someone wrote to tell me about him. I've read a lot of reviews of the book--professional and not--and am not finding reference to Adam. At all. Does he not matter? Or did he not stand out? If you read The Miseducation of Cameron Post, do you remember Adam?

As the synopsis says, Cameron is sent to a religious conversion camp to "cure" her homosexuality. That's where she meets Adam. This all takes pace in Part III: Gods Promise: 1992-1993. When Cameron gets to Promise, she is greeted by Jane, one of the students who she'll become friends with. Soon, a group of students return from an outing to the nearby lake. As they get out of the van, they say something to Cameron, to welcome her (p. 271):
Adam said he’d heard that I was a runner, and that he ran in the mornings and had seen tons of elk and deer and even a moose once or twice.
There's brief hugs, some pleasantries, and then (p. 272):
One final embrace from Adam shrouded me briefly in a sweet, sticky smell that I struggled for a moment to identify, but only because of my surroundings. In the embrace’s release I caught the scent again. Unmistakable. Marijuana.
Later, Cameron asks Jane if all the kids were high, and learns that Jane is the source of the pot. Jane, Adam, and Cameron will soon start hanging out together during their free time.

Part of their counseling (which they are supposed to call support sessions) includes filling out a worksheet, called an iceberg. Each student has one. This is what Adam wrote on his (p. 294):
Dad’s extreme modesty and lack of physical affection caused me to look for physical affection from other men in sinful ways. Too close with mom— wrong gender modeling. Yanktonais’ beliefs (winkte) conflict with Bible. Broken home.
If I understand the iceberg activity, this is the student's personal writing, for himself, not others. If I was Adam, I'd be more likely to say "Our ..." rather than "Yanktonais..." If Adam is writing it for the counselor's eyes, it might be ok as-is, but use of "Yanktonais" struck me as odd. I asked a Native colleague who works at the Oglala Lakota College and learned that the Yanktonais are Dakota and that, in conversation, they'll generally say where they're from rather than say "Yanktonai." That is in conversation, however, and perhaps Adam wrote Yanktonais because he was writing for an outsider (the counselor, who is not Native). My hunch? The decision to use Yanktonais, and the information shared next about the Canoe Peddler band, was based on information from the Fort Peck website.

Right after that, we learn more about Adam (p. 294-295):
His father, who had only recently converted to Christianity “for political reasons,” Adam said, was the one who’d sent him to Promise. His mother opposed the whole thing, but they were divorced, and she lived in North Dakota, and his dad had custody and that was that. His father was from the Canoe Peddler band of the Assiniboine, a voting member in the consolidated Fort Peck Tribal Council, and also a much-respected Wolf Point real estate developer with mayoral ambitions, ambitions that he felt were threatened by having a fairy for a son.
From that, we learn that his dad is Assiniboine. Based on Adam's use of Yanktonais (on his iceberg), we can infer that his mom is Yanktonais. I like that we learn his dad is political. Too many depictions of Native people put us on a pedestal that idealizes who we are, making us seem like we can do no wrong. We're human beings, which means we can have the same kinds of opportunistic people amongst us as anyone does.

And, we are dealing with centuries of persecution from colonizers whose sought to kill us, and kill off our Indigenous ways of being. That persecution includes those who did not, and do not, fit within the male/female gender binary. In The Miseducation of Cameron Post, Adam is winkte. He tells us more about that later, when he and Jane and Cameron are talking about being at Promise and what being there does to their sense of self. Adam says (p. 310):
“I’m the ghost of my former gay self."
A stickler for how they use words, Jane replies (p. 310):
“I thought you were never a ‘gay self.’”
Adam replies (p. 310):
“You and word choice,” he said. “I wasn’t, technically. I’m still not. I was just using the most handy term available to make a point.”
Cameron replies, in the voice of Lydia (one of the counselors), and the conversation continues (p. 310-311):
I did my best Lydia. “You were promoting the gay image through the use of sarcastic comments and humor,” I said. “I’m probably going to have to report you.”
Then, (p. 311):
“Not the gay image,” Adam said, with more seriousness. “No gay image here. I’m winkte.” I’d seen that on his iceberg and had wanted to ask him about it. “What is that?” “Two-souls person,” he said, not looking at me, concentrating, instead, on the long pine needles he was braiding. “It’s a Lakota word— well, the shorter version of one. Winyanktehca. But it doesn’t mean gay. It’s something different.”
That passage is where things really start to get messy. The last two lines are fine. The "two souls" part? I do not recall that phrase in any of the reading I've done. Generally, the phrase "two spirit" is used. I started digging in. I searched the web, and books, and research studies. Invariably, "two souls" took me to a paper by Marjorie Anne Napewastewin Schutzer, delivered in 1994 at the European Network of Professionals in Transsexualism.

Several things in that paper, and about that paper, made me pause. None of the routes to that paper are from Native people. People within the Native LGBTQ community, and those who do research in this area, do not cite Schutzer.

Though Schutzer identifies as Lakota, the writing sounds very much like someone who speaks of their identity, not through a life lived within a Native community, but through a search done later in life, driven by a romantic disposition of what it means to be Native. The overall tone is one that fits non-Native mainstream expectations of how a Native person would speak, but it doesn't ring true.

The degree to which Schutzer's talk is circulating is worrisome. Adam says winkte is a shorter version of a longer Lakota word, "winyanktehca." Schutzer wrote that winkte is "an old Lakota word" that has been "contracted" to winkte. I found that phrasing in several non-Native sources. It is in the Study Guide for Essentials of Cultural Anthropology, in Cynthia L. Winfield's Gender Identity: The Ultimate Teen Guide, and it is listed as the source for the definition at Wikipedia.

Schutzer also wrote that winkte's are shamans and sacred. That, too, is in The Miseducation of Cameron Post, voiced through Jane, and rebutted by Adam (p. 311):
“It’s a big deal,” Jane said. “Adam’s too modest. He doesn’t want to tell you that he’s sacred and mysterious.” 
“Don’t fucking do that,” Adam said, throwing some of the nonbraided needles from his pile at her. “I don’t want to be your sacred and mysterious Injun.”
His last line is great (don't want to be your sacred and mysterious Injun), but, I'm not sure if it works, given the next exchange (p. 311):
“Well, you already are,” Jane said. “Put it in your peace pipe and smoke it.” 
“That’s outrageously offensive,” he said, but then he smiled. “It’s the Sacred Calf Pipe, anyway.”
He tells her it is not a "peace pipe" but "the Sacred Calf Pipe" which is actually quite sacred, and I'm not sure that a Dakota kid, raised with the knowledge he seems to have, would speak of it in a conversation like this one. Here's more (p. 311-312):
“So you were like named this or something?” I asked. “How do you say it again?” 
“Wink-tee,” Adam said. “It was seen in a vision on the day of my birth.” He paused. “If you believe my mother, that is. If you believe my father, then my mother concocted this nonsense as an excuse for my faggy nature, and I need to just man up already.”
“Yeah, I’ll just go with your dad’s version,” I said. “Much simpler.” 
“I told you we’d like her,” Jane said. 
Adam hadn’t laughed, though. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said. “My dad’s version is easier to explain to every single person in the world who doesn’t know Lakota beliefs. I’m not gay. I’m not even a tranny. I’m like pre-gender, or almost like a third gender that’s male and female combined.”
What exactly does Cameron's question (you were named this) mean? Given Adam's answer (it was seen in a vision), I think she is asking how he came to be a winkte, as if it is something one is appointed to, by someone. In this case, someone had a vision and saw that the newborn baby was a winkte. What Adam says reminds me again of Schutzer, who wrote (on that webpage) "I was called through a vision [...] from out of the womb."

Adam and Cameron continue (p. 312):
“That sounds really complicated,” I said. 
Adam snorted. “You think? Winktes are supposed to somehow bridge the divide between genders and be healers and spirit people. We’re not supposed to try to pick the sex our private parts most align with according to some Bible story about Adam and Eve.”
Again, this brings Schutzer's writing to mind. She wrote "I represent a profound healing, a reconciliation of the most fundamental rift that divides us, human from human--gender." Given the contexts in which Schutzer's writing is cited, I think it is not reliable. There may be other sources out there that danforth used to develop the winkte parts of The Miseducation of Cameron Post, but I can't find them. Indeed, writings I do know of are more pragmatic and realistic in how winkte's are discussed. Schutzer cites the popular John Lame Deer: Seeker of Visions, but its co-author is a non-Native man, Richard Erdoes. He's co-author on several books like this, and as Ed Valandra points out in his article about as-told-to biographies, they open with a mystical story about how the Native person had a vision in which Erdoes would appear to him and offer to help him tell his story (I highly recommend Valandra's article: "The As-Told-To Native [Auto]biography: Whose Voice is Speaking" in a well-regarded journal in Native Studies, Wicazo Sa Review. See volume 20, #2, Fall 2005).

Towards the end of The Miseducation of Cameron Post, Jane, Adam, and Cameron have left Promise. They're headed to Quake Lake, where Cameron's mother died. Cameron sees dead trees, standing upright in the lake. She thinks they look like walking sticks left behind by a race of giants. She says (p. 458-459):
“Who was that Lakota giant— the one who was supposed to be like visible to man forever ago, but isn’t now, and lives on a mountain surrounded by water?” 
“Yata,” Adam said. “Why, did you see him?” He pretended to scan the forest around us, feigning anxiousness.
He asks her why she's asking him about this giant, and she gestures to the trees in the lake and how they look like walking sticks for giants. He says (p. 459):
“That actually sort of works,” Adam said. “This could be Yata territory. Yata is way into ceremonies. That’s kind of what you’re doing here, right?”
The three gaze at the lake. Jane says that it is "pretty, but it's" and Cameron says that the trees make it creepy. Adam replies (p. 460):
“It’s more than the trees,” Adam said. “There’s all kinds of powerful energy here. It’s unsettled or something.”
With his reply, I think it is fair to say that Adam he is imbued with a special ability to sense things, which again brings me to Schutzer.

I really wanted to join the chorus of voices that love and recommend The Miseducation of Cameron Post. For teens that identify with Cameron or Jane, danforth's book is important. But Native teens matter, too. Those who identify as winkte (or that identity and its word in their own nation) do not, to my knowledge, have a single character that looks like them in the thousands and thousands of young adult books out there right now. I think we'll get there, but getting there will require writers who create Adams to be very careful in their sources. There are several reliable sources that are a good starting point. They include:

  • Directions in Gender Research in American Indian Societies: Two Spirits and Other Categories by Beatrice Medicine, published in Online Readings in Psychology and Culture, 3(1), in 2002. 
  • "Gender" by Joanne Barker, in The World of Indigenous North America, (Routledge, 2014), edited by Robert Warrior.  
  • Two-Spirit People, (University of Illinois Press, 1997), edited by Sue-Ellen Jacobs, Wesley Thomas, and Sabine Lang. 
  • Sovereign Erotics: A Collection of Two-Spirit Literature, (University of Arizona Press, 2011), edited by Qwo-Li Driskill, Daniel Heath Justice, Deborah Miranda, and Lisa Tatonetti. 

If you're a writer, please read those items. If you're an editor, ask your writer to read them. And if you're an editor, read them yourself. Right now we don't have a lot of un-doing to do in terms of problematic representations of winktes. This time out? Please. Get it right.

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Native American Representation in Children's Literature: Challenging the People of the Past Narrative, by Julie Stivers

Eds Note: Today, AICL is pleased to share a study done by Julie Stivers, a graduate student at UNC-Chapel Hill, School of Library and Information Science. Ms. Stivers shared the poster (below) with me earlier this week. I was reading Ed Valandra's article that day and sent it to her because her study confirms Vine Deloria Jr.'s observations about books published from 1968 to 1975 (Valandra's article is listed below in Additional Resources). Of those four years, Deloria wrote (p. 105-106):
...it seemed as if every book on modern Indians was promptly buried by a book on the "real" Indians of yesteryear. The public overwhelming[ly] turned to Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee and The Memories of Chief Red Fox to avoid the accusations made by modern Indians in The Tortured Americans and Custer Died for Your Sins. The Red Fox book alone sold more copies than the two modern books. 
Valandra continued:
In other words, the non-Indian literary world refused to consider Native peoples in a modern context, thus hindering the accurate depiction of contemporary Native issues.

Ms. Stivers studied children's books published since 2013. Her findings tell us that things haven't changed much. What gets published, matters. The writer's you read, and their viewpoints, matter. Please seek out Native writers! Think about their stories and what they choose to share. It matters. 

Thank you, Ms. Stivers, for giving AICL permission to share your excellent work on this project! 

___________________________



Native American Representation in Children's Literature: 
Challenging the "People of the Past" Narrative
by Julie Stivers

Are you a librarian...a teacher...or a parent?  Let’s think for a moment about the books we own that feature Native American main characters.  What are their settings?  In the past?  Modern day?  If the text does not make this clear—if, for example, there are anthropomorphic animals—what are they wearing?  Baseball caps and modern clothes or ‘leather and feathers’?

It was these questions that drove me to research the time settings of books featuring Native Americans for a Children’s Literature class assignment on content analysis.  Of the many problematic stereotypes in youth literature written about Native Americans, I chose to focus on examining the prevalence of the ‘people of the past’ narrative.  At face value, readers and librarians may think this is a harmless problem—which is, of course—what makes it so dangerous.  However, a predilection for featuring only Native American books that are set in the past puts forth a narrative that Native American people themselves are only of the past, allowing their present lives—and their sovereign rights—to be ignored.  This stereotype is damaging to the sense of self of contemporary Native youth.  A Broken Flute: The Native Experience in Books for Children (Seale & Slapin, 2005) contains “living stories" which shed light on the negative impact stereotypes in literature are having on Native American youth.

This poster displays results from the content analysis of youth fiction books published since 2013 with Native American main characters.  75% of books written by non-Native authors were set before 1900, compared with only 20% written by Native authors.  Increasing the time period granularity makes the results even more striking.  No books by non-Native authors were set after 1950, whereas 75% of books by Native authors were, with 2/3 of books written by Native authors set in present day. 
Which books do we think are being put out by the Big Five publishers?  Overwhelmingly, those set in the past.  So, if we are relying on ‘mainstream’ review sources, ordering platforms, and book fairs, we will get a clearly biased view of Native Americans in our youth literature.  Only by seeking out offerings from independent publishers and learning from sites such as American Indians in Children’s Literature and Oyate can we successfully challenge the ‘people of the past’ narrative by collecting books about—and written by—Native Americans that reflect a wide range of experiences and settings.



Please note that this research makes no claims as to the quality or authenticity of the titles.  The presence of a book in a ‘pre-1900’ category does not preclude it from being an excellent example of literature featuring American Indians, such as How I Became a Ghost by Tim Tingle, praised by both Native reviewers and mainstream critics.  For this sample, however, there was a commonality for all well-reviewed books set in the past—they were all written by American Indian authors.

Additional Resources:

Seale, D. & Slapin, B. (Eds.). (2005).  A broken flute:  The Native experience in books for children.  Berkeley, CA:  Oyate.

Stewart, M.P. (2013).  “Counting Coup” on children’s literature about American Indians:  Louise Erdrich’s historical fiction.  Children’s Literature Association Quarterly, 38(2), 215-235.

Valandra, E.C.  (2005).  The As-Told-To Native [Auto]biography:  Whose voice is speaking? Wicazo Sa Review, 29(2), 103-119.

Boccella Hartle, M. & Shebala, M. (2010).  When your hands are tied.  Documentary film.  http://www.whenyourhandsaretied.org/


Sunday, April 26, 2015

Children's Books that Mock Native Names Pave the Way for Adam Sandler's Satire

On Thursday (April 23, 2015), Vince Shilling, writing at Indian Country Today, broke a news story that was quickly picked up by social media sites (like Gawker) and then news media, too (like CNN, and in the UK, the Guardian).

Shilling's story is about Native actors walking off the set of Adam Sandler's new movie, The Ridiculous Six, because of the ways the script denigrates Native women and mocks Native culture via the names created for Native characters and in the dialogue: Never Wears Bra (in an earlier version of the script, her name was Sits on Face), Strawberry Tits, Stiff In Pants.

People are outraged. I am, too.

Though not as crude as the ones in the script, I've seen that same sort of thing in children's books. Here's some examples:

In Russell Hoban's Soonchild, a couple is expecting their first child. The man's name is "Sixteen Face John" because he has sixteen different faces, all with their own names. They are described in the first chapter. His first face is his (p. 3):
Hi face, the one he said hello with. Face Two was What? Face Three was Really? Face Four was Well, Well. Face Five was Go On! Face Six was You Don't Mean It. Face Seven was You Mean it? Face Eight was That'll Be The Day. Face Nine was What Day Will That Be? Face Ten was It Can't Be That Bad. Face Eleven was Can It Be That Bad? Face Twelve was I Don't Believe It. Face Thirteen was I Believe It. Face Fourteen was This Is Serious. Face Fifteen was What I'm Seeing Is What It Is. Face Sixteen was What It's Seeing Is What I Am.
He's a shaman from a long line of shamans (p. 6):
His mother was Stay With It and his father was Go Anywhere. His mother's mother was Never Give Up and her father was Try Anything. His father's mother was Do It Now and his father's father was Whatever Works. His mother's grandmother was Where Is It? and his father's grandmother was Don't Miss Anything. His mother's grandfather was Everything Matters and his father's grandfather was Go All The Way. 
And... his wife's name is No Problem. Her mother's name is Take It Easy. Her friend is Way To Go. Soonchild was published in 2012 by Candlewick Press.

In Me Oh Maya, Jon Scieszka makes fun of Mayan names. His much-loved Time Warp Trio travels to the midst of a Mayan ball court where an "evil high priest" named Kakapupahed stands over them. They try not to laugh aloud at his name, which they hear as Cacapoopoohead. Me Oh Maya was published in 2003 by Viking.

None of this is new to children's literature. Some of you may recall titles from your childhood like Indian Two Feet and Little Indian and Little Runner of the Longhouse.  

I find these attempts to come up with Native names troubling and problematic in so many ways. Equally troubling are the ways they are described. Hoban's book, for example, got starred reviews from Publisher's Weekly who noted his use of "slapstick" in tackling "the big questions" about life. Booklist, meanwhile, called it profound and offhandedly glib.

Sandler has, thus far, issued no response to Native people regarding his script and reaction to it. The film Sandler is making is slated to air on Netflix. A spokesperson for Netflix did reply (as reported by Vulture) by saying:
"The movie has ridiculous in the title for a reason: because it is ridiculous. It is a broad satire of Western movies and the stereotypes they popularized, featuring a diverse cast that is not only part of — but in on — the joke."

In other words, they're telling the world that Native people are in on the joke. Rather than listen to Native voices, they defend what they're doing.

Sandler's satire is not "ridiculous" at all! 
It is derogatory and offensive. 

I contend that children's books are part of the problem. Things given to young people matter. Giving them books that poke fun of Native names pave the way for the creation and defense of what we see in Sandler's movie.

I'll be back with an update if Sandler or Netflix issue any statements, but carry this with you as you select--or weed--books in your library: Names matter. Nobody's names ought to be fodder for satire or humor, whether it is by Adam Sandler or Jon Sciezka.