Educational but horribly depressing. Use of the words of the Chiefs, Braves & soldiers themselves gave it a wonderful immediacy. ( )

I listened to the audio version of “Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee” narrated by Grover Gardner. Dee Brown’s 1971 classic has been required reading in many colleges for decades and for good reason. However, a quick Google search of the title confirmed what I suspected: it is banned in many high schools (notably, but not surprisingly, in Florida) presumably because it might “make kids feel bad about themselves.” And the book should make every person who reads it feel bad, not about themselves but about their ancestors. The treatment of the American Indian is beyond shocking. It’s immoral, and in a country that considers itself a “Christian country,” it’s anything but Christian. “Bury My Heart in Wounded Knee” should be required reading at some point in every social studies department of every high school in the U.S. ( )

Heartbreaking, mindset-shattering, eviscerating.

To get the positives out of the way first: Dee Brown's immense wealth of knowledge and research contributes to make Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee a detailed-yet-well-paced experience. Each chapter chronicles a particular battle, people, or plight, in rough chronological order. Without resorting to extensive flashbacks or appendices, Brown manages to create a sense of the West's treatment of Native Americans from colonisation to the particularly brutal 1800s, when genocide was effectively carried out.

Using transcripts, interviews and evidence from the time, Brown creates a moving portrait that shatters many myths which still resonate, and reminds us of the sins of such ground-level intolerance.

Admittedly, the book would've held more sway when first released, for a generation raised on WWII and '50s-era patriotism. Nowadays, we're more aware of the graphic nature of the treatment of the Native Americans, and so the book's heavy-handedness is particularly evident. Yet, it's easy to forget how marginalised this culture remains - in social understanding, in cultural portrayals, etc. With a pointedness approaching black humour, Brown opens each chapter with a detail of the more commonly-known 'great' events that occurred around the world concurrently with that particular act of one-sided warfare. The development of the telephone. The publication of all the great works of Romantic literature and art. The freaking Emancipation Proclamation! Yet here, in the very same country, an entire race - nay, many dozens of races - were being wiped out. It seems gauche to qualify levels of genocide, but this remains a particularly insidious one. Unlike the oligarchic genocide of the Nazis (where one feels as if removal of a few key figures would destabilise the structure), or the hereditary problems that plague, say, Israel and Palestine, this crime seems one of brutal, individual hatred. The most chilling massacres that Brown describes often occur simply because a few individuals decided - in a moment - they didn't care to be civil with these fellow human beings.

Bury My Heart is perhaps the pinnacle of pop history. In telling his tale exclusively from the other side, Brown weaves a manipulative, overly literary tale. Most of his characters are pure heroes, they speak entirely in riddles, and he pours on emotion like it was a John Williams soundtrack. At times, the academic and the writer in me cry out for some editing, perhaps some levity between the darkest moments, definitely the occasional examination of social and historical contexts that doesn't rely entirely on pandering to our heartstrings. Even when he does describe those white men who were sympathetic, or - as is always the case - seemed to find greater strength in "crossing over" to the Native side completely, Brown could give us more. It's fascinating to read of these men who married into tribes and basically lived with them, or of the young Native Americans who went to university and obtained degrees in the white man's world. But they only enter the narrative at the point when they become part of the bloodshed. What were their daily social patterns like? How did their friends and family respond to the change, and how did it affect the way they interacted in their respective new worlds? This would have been eminently more fascinating, but perhaps it's just outside the scope of Brown's aims.

Yet, this seems a cheap allegation to hurl at such a noble work. After all, where were the moments of levity during what was effectively a decades-long trench war? Where were the moments of tolerance? With each passing chapter, and each passing massacre, the book beats down any resistance you may have to the idea that there is goodness in the minds of men. It's not happy news, but if there's one area of history where that worldview needs to be accepted, it may just be here. ( )

This was an impulsive read for me. The Libby App offered unlimited copies of the audiobook version of Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee by Dee Brown in honor of Indigenous People’s Day. I had definitely heard of this book before and quickly decided that now is the perfect time to learn about the true history of the American West.

The accounts of how unfair, cruel, and vicious the white men treated the American Indians was nothing but tragic. I’m old enough to not be surprised by the detailed stories of how all Indian tribes were mistreated; however, the brutality this culture experienced is nauseating to hear in this book. Time after time, the American Indians were kind, and willing to work with the white men. They are such a generous tribe who wanted to live simply in peace and connection with all cultures. It was heartbreaking to listen to accounts of repeatedly making treaties with the white men to only be lied to and taken advantage. They suffered unbelievable consequences for their trust.

Listening to the descriptions of each of the bloodiest massacres, I kept wondering, why? I just don’t understand the justification for the abhorrent behaviors of the white men. I finally concluded that the root of the evil was, and still is, ego and greed. At least for me, that seemed to be the common thread in the stories that were relayed in this book. This is no excuse for their behavior.

While this is a difficult read, I am glad I took the time to become better educated about this portion of US history. I appreciated that at the beginning of each chapter, Dee Brown included a brief account of events current at the time, whether it was a famous book being published, movie release, or a political change. The audiobook narration by Grover Gardner was enjoyable, for such difficult stories to tell.

Pictured is a handmade and hand painted piece of pottery by a Native American, from the Hopi tribe. My husband and I purchased this amazing piece of art at the Ninibah jewelry store located in Tlaquepaque shopping center during a previous trip to Sedona, Arizona. Native Americans used this seed bowl to store seeds. When planting their crops, the tiny opening in the top of the bowl was perfect for only releasing a few seeds at a time.

I have photos and additional information that I'm unable to include here. It can all be found on my blog, in the link below.
A Book And A Dog ( )

More haunting now than it was the first two times I made it to the end.

As a writer, I appreciate nothing more than a human being's ability to tell his/her/their own story with their own words. Though I appreciate that literature in this fast-paced age of mass consumption is held to a different set of standards than it used to be - I think those critics who discredit this book based on its lack of extensive documentation are missing the entire point. The men and women whose hearts are explored in these pages had no voice and no opportunity to ensure their words were heard far and wide. Brown might be lacking the records that most books in the history genre use to tout their own truths - but to me, that's the most powerful truth of all in this book.

If you haven't done so yet - be sure to give this one a read at least once in your life. And next time you walk outside - thank the Earth for all she has endured under our ignorant occupation. ( )