Dissecting the Firekeeper’s Daughter

It’s been a year and a half since since we disbanded the Writer Unboxed Breakout Novel Dissection Group that delved into novels using questions derived from Donald Maass’s craft books. I miss it, so when time came for my next WU post, I decided to bring it back, even if I’m the only Dissector.

I chose Firekeeper’s Daughter, by Angeline Boulley, based on this four-word hook: Native American Nancy Drew. And the cover. Look at it:

Gorgeous! One of the first of Donald Maass’s breakout novelist questions we’d ask was, “Book titles contribute to reader expectations of genre and tone. Did the title of this book reflect its contents well? Do you think the cover art contributed to its success?” Answer: 100% yes.

The story is told from 18-year-old Daunis Fontaine’s point of view. Her father was Anishinaabe (Ojibwe tribe) and her mother is white, from a wealthy family in Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan. Her father’s last name was Firekeeper, and the family are literal keepers of ceremonial fires. Daunis loves her white family and she loves her Native family and community, but each side digs at her about her identity, so she doesn’t feel entirely accepted or acceptable anywhere. She is the two identical girls on the cover with slightly different skin tones. Notice how steadfastly she’s regarding herself/the other; her unflinching honesty about herself is here in this cover, too.

All the Native symbols here–the fire, the crows, the butterfly, the sun–are significant. There is a tribal story about the first firekeeper, whose daughter makes each day happen by singing and raising the sun. Daunis chafes against this story because what the daughter does is so important, but she never gets named; she gets stuck with that job and never gets to be her own person. Names are important in this story, both culturally (Daunis starts each day with an offering of tobacco to Creator and prays using her Spirit name, her tribe’s name, and the identifier, firekeeper’s daughter) and personally. Daunis was born when her mother was 16 and her grandparents didn’t put her father’s name on her birth certificate (they weren’t fans of their daughter getting knocked up by an Indian)–which means that, although she practices Ojibwe spirituality, speaks Anishinaabemowin, and dances in pow-wows, she is not an enrolled member of the tribe, which impacts not only her self-image but also her financial future and her ability to vote on tribal governing matters.

We can’t all get a cover that great, but we can work on our craft. There are three writerly lessons we can learn from Boulley:

• Make the big issues deeply personal to the main character.
• Use literary motifs and recurring patterns to reveal your main character.
• In a dark story, give your main character a personality trait that brings light.

Make the big issues deeply personal.

Just by learning about Daunis’s name, we now know something about tribal politics. Her unenrolled status is regularly thrown in her face, sometimes by catty contemporaries, sometimes by bureaucrats un-offering a cookie to her, and every time people talk about the per capita payments every enrolled member gets from the casino profits.

This novel deals with some thorny issues: meth addiction, suicide, racism, gun violence, violence against women, sexual assault. Each one of those issues either already is or becomes personal to Daunis; they are part of her lived experience. Once the inciting event happens (not until p. 86), the novel constantly deepens the stakes. As she gets more and more involved in trying to solve the major external issue, she has to confront all her internal issues.

Which she does. Firekeeper’s Daughter is as much a coming-of-age story as it is a mystery that needs solving.

Use literary motifs and recurring patterns to reveal your main character.

One of my favorite recurring patterns is the one that Daunis uses to keep track of how much change there is in her life: variations on the “New Normal.” The novel starts when she is in the New Normal, after her uncles death and grandmother’s stroke. Then comes the Newer New Normal. Later the Now of the Newer New Normal. It’s a little funny, but also a little poignant, given that behind it is the desire to get back to what was “normal” and the realization that too much has changed for that to happen.

Boulley uses metaphor and simile to great effect. Sometimes the comparisons show us Daunis’s emotional state.

Even though Jamie is listening without a trace of judgment, I cut myself off. It feels disloyal to say anything more. I’d be revealing the worst parts about someone I love. I never thought about secrets being like a bull’s-eye. The smaller the circle, the bigger the secret (p.76-77).

When it’s time to sign the agreement, the pen is fancy, like the one I received as a graduation gift from one of Grandpa Lorenzo’s business partners. It weighs more than an ordinary pen. Maybe the … does this on purpose: The heavy burden begins with your signature (p.130).

He walks between us like a knife cutting the tension (p.135).

When I turn too quickly into the ferry parking lot, the tires call out for Lily (p.136).

Each lie is a fish, with a bigger fish swallowing the one preceding (p.152).

Something heavy weighs me down, as if I’m no longer on this planet but on Jupiter, with its gravitational pull 2.4 times stronger than Earth’s (p.205).

If the community were an ill or injured person, … would cut out the infection or reset the bones. Amputate if necessary. Problem solved. I’m the only person looking at the whole person, not just the wound” (p.217).

Wisdom is not bestowed. In its raw state, it is the heartbreak of knowing things you wish you didn’t (p.393).

Sometimes the comparisons are just fun.

I watch Levi, with Stormy at his side, as they are absorbed into the mass of excited fans. It’s like watching the human depiction of phagocytosis, with my brother and his best friend playing the part of bacteria getting swallowed by the crowd as one giant feasting amoeba (p.212).

I imagine my feet are as heavy as uranium to avoid breaking into a Smoke Dance–tiny staccato steps as quick as a hummingbird’s wings (p.222).

But they are always rooted in her experiences, her knowledge of science, her values. We get to know her better whenever she makes a comparison.

Give your main character a personality trait that brings light.

There’s so much to love and admire about Daunis: her love for her friends and family, her discipline and skill as an athlete (runner and hockey player), her passion for the sciences (botany, physiology, scientific method), her truthfulness (although the story action strains that), her persistence, her treatment of her tribal elders. But the trait that keeps her and the story from being mired in the pain of what happens is her gratitude. Maass talks about novels needing moments when “the story soars above itself and awes or inspires in some way.” Firekeeper’s Daughter has scenes like that, often involving the tribal elders. But those lifting moments also happen every time she offers semaa (tobacco) to Creator (daily), to the river (every time she’s on the ferry), to an elder she’s asking a favor of. Each instance is an act of gratitude willingly made.

The ferry is all mine for the last trip of the night. Stepping from the Jeep midway through the crossing, I release a pinch of semaa over the railing. It carries my prayer of thanks. Miigwech for trusting me… (p.332).

One Anishinaabemowin word you will become very familiar with is miigwech, thank you. She says it often to the people in her life, and they say it to her. It was striking to read miigwech over and over.

…Thank you for leaving the clues for me to find. And for giving me the skills to decipher them. I am so grateful for you (p.320).

I am overcome with deep gratitude as I sit here next to Auntie before the fire. Auntie has shown me how to be a strong Nish kwe–full of love, anger, humor, sorrow and joy (p.328).

She’s not all sweetness and light. As a female hockey player on the boys’ team, she can both dish out and take some crass verbal abuse. She makes mistakes, and can say cruel things when upset. But gratitude turns out to be a powerful trait that helps her get her through the difficulties the story puts her through, and brings her to a healthier relationship with her mother, and a closer embrace by her Anishinaabe family and community.

Bonus skills

If you are writing a story that includes someone who speaks a language other than English, check out how Boulley handles it. I never had a hard time understanding what was going on, but I did need patience to wait for translations in the text.

If you are writing a story that has a mixed ending that isn’t entirely satisfying, but is deeply affecting and satisfying in some ways, check out how Boulley did it. I love a good ending where the antagonists get what’s coming to them, and Firekeeper’s Daughter doesn’t have one, but I was still moved and pleased by some of the changes in Daunis’s life.

And I kept this dissection spoiler free!

Normally the Breakout Novel Dissection reports were full of spoilers, and I’ve managed to include NONE in this one. I am proud of myself. After all, Firekeeper’s Daughter has only been out for a month.

Take-aways

Firekeeper’s Daughter delivers good lessons for writers who want to:

• write about big societal issues but not make it feel like you’re writing an issue book;
• use literary motifs like metaphors, similes, and repetition to reveal character;
• give your main character an uplifting personality trait;
• integrate foreign languages;
• craft an ending that is both satisfying and frustrating.

Have you read Firekeeper’s Daughter? Do you have anything to add? Are there any other novels that do what Boulley does well that you want to tell us about? Do you feel encouraged that it took Boulley 10 years to write this story and it now it’s been optioned by Barack and Michelle Obama’s production company?