The Raven's Gift - Don Rearden [1]
For Dan and the Real People of the Kuskokwim River and of course for you, Annette
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I have dreamt of the day I would write these words since ellangellemni, since I became aware that writing and stories would forever be a part of my life. And since this has been such a long dream in the making there are too many people to thank, and for that very fact I am so grateful.
Still, I must name a few important souls.
First I must thank the Yup’ik elders, tradition bearers, and families I have learned so much from, including the late George and Martha Keene, Dr. Oscar Kawagley, the Slims, Moseses, Ivans, Angstmans, Lincolns, Hoovers, Hoffmans, and Morgans (to name just a few).
Quyana to “Mikngayaq” Selena Malone for her photography skills and Yup’ik spelling assistance, and to “Piunriq” for always finding the right answers.
I owe a debt of gratitude to Yup’ik scholars and anthropologists Ann Fienup-Riordan, Alice Rearden, and Marie Meade. Without their work and the work of so many others dedicated to recording the elders’ wisdom, too much would have already been lost.
To all those haunted by the initial drafts of this novel, I thank you for the advice, criticism, and optimism. Special thanks to Shane Castle, for the incredible insight and calling me dirty names on that first copy of the manuscript. To Ben Kuntz for the killer notes and for not letting me end the story a little past Haroldsen’s. To Helena for her unending optimism and enthusiasm. To Sarah for catching, so, many, comma, errors. To Shannon for coffee walks, Arctic whaling, and zany poetic distractions.
I have had some incredible teachers along the way. I’d like to thank Ronald Spatz for pushing me and for teaching me to slow down. A heartfelt thanks goes to Sherry Simpson and Jo-Ann Mapson for always caring and always believing in my work.
Thanks to Jodi Picoult for the advice and for insisting I direct my writing efforts toward the novel.
Of course this manuscript would have died a quiet digital death in some file on my laptop if not for my amazing agents. So I offer a huge thanks to Adam Chromy for all his effort and expert advice and to Danny Baror for helping me catch a penguin and making this dream a reality.
And to Adrienne Kerr, my editor extraordinaire, writers dream of having an editor like you who understands and shares their vision. I can’t thank you enough for your guidance and your faith in this story.
Thanks to Daniel Quinn for being my coach and for daring to save the world with Ishmael. With this story, I am doing my best to become B.
To my amazing family and to Annette, thank you for never doubting me.
Finally, quyana to the people of the Yukon-Kuskokwim River Delta for sharing with me the way of the human being.
PROLOGUE
Don’t you hear the noise? It swishes like the beating of the wings of great birds in the air. It is the fear of naked people, it is the flight of naked people! The weather spirit is blowing the storm out, the weather spirit is driving the weeping snow away over the earth, and the helpless storm-child … Don’t you hear the weeping of the child in the howling wind?
—BALEEN, COPPER ESKIMO SHAMAN, 1920s
PART I
The
Bones
of the
Mammoth
The bones of the mammoth are found on the coast country of the Bering Sea and the adjacent interior … the creature is claimed to live underground, where it burrows from place to place, and when by accident one of them comes to the surface, so that even if the tip of its nose appears above the ground and breathes the air, it dies at once.
—AS RECORDED BY EDWARD NELSON, 1899
1
He crawled on his stomach through the snowdrift and lifted his head over the edge of the riverbank, just enough to see the first few houses, charred black and dislodged from the wood blocks and tall steel pilings meant to hold them off the tundra’s permafrost. Below the bank, the girl sat in a plastic orange toboggan, waiting. Her eyes stared back at him as white as the wisps of snow covering the thin river ice beneath her.
“They’re all gone here, too?