”Even a wounded world is feeding us. Even a wounded world holds us, giving us moments of wonder and joy. I choose joy over despair. Not because I have my head in the sand, but because joy is what the earth gives me daily and I must return the gift.”

I listened to the Braiding Sweetgrass audiobook narrated by Robin Wall Kimmerer herself and it was an amazing experience. I can honestly say that I am going to miss listening to this audiobook so much as I move through my morning routine. Kimmerer’s voice is warm and soothing and nobody else could have narrated this book.

Braiding Sweetgrass is more than a book. It is a testament to the resilience and strength of the indigenous people of our country as well as a glimmer of hope amidst a government that often seeks to destroy its nature and its people. It is also a call for radical change in society, including fixing our relationship with the land, and a reminder that humans are not the enemy of nature as indigenous people have lived in harmony with nature for thousands and thousands of years. Furthermore, the writing style in Braiding Sweetgrass is beautiful and Robin Wall Kimmerer is masterful at weaving in plenty of stories and examples to illustrate her points.

The indigenous teachings in Braiding Sweetgrass are antithetical to everything that we are taught under capitalism. Indigenous cultures view every plant and every animal as a nonhuman person unlike capitalism which views animals and plants as objects to exploit. The Honorable Harvest teaches us how to accept gifts from nature while honoring its limits and respecting all life around us. It teaches to only take what we need and to harvest in a way that minimizes harm. It teaches us to be respectful, to share, and to be mindful of the needs of others. Above all, it teaches gratitude for the world around us.

Braiding Sweetgrass has fundamentally changed the way that I view the world around me and approach my interpersonal relationships. While we are taught as kids to “give without expecting anything in return”, Braiding Sweetgrass has taught me that it is okay and necessary to expect reciprocity in return. Gift economies thrive on the dynamics of giving and taking. It is not okay for someone to take and take without ever giving in return as doing so can damage the whole community. There is a fine balance between giving and taking freely and practicing reciprocity.

The “Putting Down Roots” chapter was particularly helpful in helping me understand what healthy relationships look like. Kimmerer uses lichen symbiosis as an example of healthy giving and taking and how the roles of giver and receiver shift from moment to moment. She illustrates how the roles of giver and receiver are often dynamic and how people’s ability to give depends on where they’re at in life. In my marriage, rarely are me and my spouse at the same mental and physical capacity and thus our roles of giver and receiver change frequently. Reciprocation is important and necessary for friendships and relationships to thrive.

Like in The Serviceberry also by Robin Wall Kimmerer, the concept of reciprocity has been deeply impactful to me as someone who is autistic and chronically ill since I’m not able to live a typical life. Recovering from burnout and accepting my limitations has led me to feel immense amounts of guilt due to my reduced output and contributions to society. However, Kimmerer’s teachings and philosophies have taught me that as long as I live my life according to my capabilities and find my own ways to reciprocate and remain grateful for the earth’s gifts in my heart, there is no reason why I’m not deserving of mother earth’s love and care. Deprogramming from a capitalistic mindset is one of the hardest things that I’ve ever done but I’m glad that Braiding Sweetgrass has been a such great companion on my journey. Learning that life isn’t about deserving and that you can’t do anything to earn a gift has been deeply impactful and one of the best life lessons that I’ve earned.

The concepts of sustainability and overconsumption that the book teaches are essential for moving forward as a society and helping the planet heal. We must all find ways to reduce our consumption and be conscious of how our actions are damaging the earth. The book also teaches the importance of finding and investing in community and how we can’t survive by ourselves. There is strength in community and it is especially evident in the following quote:

”When times are easy and there’s plenty to go around, individual species can go it alone. But when conditions are harsh and life is tenuous, it takes a team sworn to reciprocity to keep life going forward. In a world of scarcity, interconnection and mutual aid become critical for survival.”

Overall, Braiding Sweetgrass reads like a soothing balm for the soul and it is a book that I will carry in my heart forever.

This is a tricky book to review because of the history of how it was written. The story was conceived and drafted by Mourning Dove, a Native American woman (Okanagan/Silyx) who was an aspiring novelist, and she was interested in talking about the stories and traditions of her people, and also the challenges faced by mixed race Native/white people in her community. It was then “edited” by Lucullus McWhorter, a white man who was a passionate advocate for Native Americans and critic of how the US government had historically treated them. After Mourning Dove’s draft was done, McWhorter rewrote whole sections and added others, mainly in order to grind his own axe and criticize the government and the Bureau of Indian Affairs.

The thing is, his writing and Mourning Dove’s are really different - McWhorter uses rhetorical devices, complex language and a much higher-tone vocabulary while Mourning Dove is more simple and descriptive, and has a light way with words - and so the tone and style of the book as a whole book is really inconsistent.

As a reader, this mashup gives you some whiplash. You get really lovely, simple descriptions of nature, or dialogue filled with cowboy slang immediately followed by something like this: “Youth gone, seared and lifeless, they lay at our feet—lopped and cast down—as a love discarded for another of fairer hue. Having for a time served as a pleasurable bower for the loiterer by the wayside, they are now to be trampled underfoot!”

McWhorter’s contributions come off as extremely didactic (although he’s not wrong) and really slow down the story, making parts of it really slog. Meanwhile, Mourning Dove’s own didactic passages appear in a more natural context (largely coming from a grandmother trying to teach the younger generation) so aren’t as obtrusive. Both of their dialogue writing is clunky and forced most of the time.

Okay, enough about the writing; now for the rest.

Cogewea is, at its heart, the story of a love triangle with a lot of cultural weight behind it.

Our MC, Cogewea, is the daughter of a Native woman who died young and a white man who left the family many years ago, leaving his three daughters to be raised by their Native grandmother. Conveniently, Cogewea’s two sisters represent two possible paths a mixed woman could take: Julia, the eldest, has married a white man and fully adopted the ways of white folks, while Mary, the youngest, continues to live with their grandmother and has fully devoted herself to Native ways.

Cogewea (why do her sisters have English names and she doesn’t? I suspect it’s because she’s the main character, because it’s never addressed) is being pursued by a fellow mixed race man and cowboy, Jim, and by Densmore, a white man from the east who has come out west to try to make some money as a cowboy. The fundamental drama is which man - and therefore which way of life - she’ll choose.

Just as the writing and tone are inconsistent, so is the book’s overall message on this theme. The grandmother spends almost all her screen time hammering home that Native women shouldn’t let themselves be seduced by white men, because the men will inevitably exploit, abandon, and break the hearts their Native wives, just like what happened with the women’s own father, and several other women who are mentioned. The grandmother is very clear that this is about white men in general.

And yet, one sister has already married a white man, and the third also ends up marrying a white man, with apparently no opposition at all from the grandmother, and even to the encouragement of the community. I think we’re to assume that the sisters’ husbands are supposed to represent exceptions to the rule, but this is never really established or made clear, except that the older brother in law is a very kind and good man. But somehow Cogewea has to endure all kinds of mental torment and multiple lectures about it, while Mary (who is even more connected to their Native heritage) is unconcerned.

Cogewea is established to be a somewhat reckless and capricious character, but her ups and downs kind of give you whiplash as well - she goes from sassy and confident to meek and compliant without much provocation, and is easily manipulated by male characters despite being described as very savvy and clever.

Cogewea herself is pretty lovable and her grandmother has some really great moments, but most of the other characters are either stock or downright annoying (both men in the love triangle). There’s a lot of really torturous dialogue written phonetically in the “cowboy” dialect that I ended up skimming because it was honestly difficult to even understand.

The good: Mourning Dove had a real knack for writing descriptions of the natural world and landscapes, and there are some really lovely moments where you feel like you can see the open land, huge blue sky and Rocky Mountains. I really liked reading the grandmother’s stories as well, and thought those were some of the most compelling parts of the book. Cogewea, while being a bit of a manic pixie dream girl, is refreshing to have in a novel from this time - she prides herself on being competent, independent, smart, able and willing to challenge any man around her.

So, there were parts I really enjoyed about this book, and it made a lot of excellent arguments about the injustice of the US government’s treatment of Native Americans, but it just really didn’t work as a whole. It’s disjointed, the dialogue is terrible, the messaging is inconsistent and the pacing was off. It’s probably only worth reading if you’re interested in the specific era and setting and the politics involved.