The Ancient
Child
by N. Scott Momaday
***
“My father was a great
storyteller and he knew many stories from the Kiowa oral tradition. . . But it
was only after I became an adult that I understood how fragile they are,
because they exist only by word of mouth, always just one generation away from
extinction,” says N. Scott Momaday.
And what happens if the
stories are lost? Can a family, a people, a land exist without stories?
If you’re Momaday, a
Pulitzer Prize-winning novelist and professor of English, your work of
preservation includes entwining and reimagining the myths and legends, as he
has in The Ancient Child. This 1989 novel opens with a prologue of legend of a
boy metamorphosed into a bear. Not satisfied simply with retelling, and anyway,
aren’t all legends rewoven in the teller’s mind, Momaday links this story to
that of another, more historical but in his own way legendary figure, Billy theKid.
Or make that William Henry
McCarty. Or William H. Bonney, Henry McCarty, Henry Antrim. For someone barely
beyond boyhood at the time of his death, the 19th century baby-faced
outlaw turned folk hero has been metamorphosed as thoroughly as the boy who
became a bear.
Momaday’s narrative
follows two members of his own tribe – the artist Locke Setman (Set) and the
visionary girl called Grey. Set (his name is the root of the Kiowa word for
“bear”) was severed from his roots when he was placed for adoption following
the deaths of his parents. Now completely assimilated into white culture, he
has become so successful as a painter in San Francisco that he is also in
danger of losing his artistic integrity.
“Those who exhibited his
work, who praised and purchased it, and who demanded its proliferation became
to determine it,” and Set goes along, until in middle age he begins to
understand that he is squandering his talent.
Oh the other hand,
18-year-old Grey is only starting to discover her talents. She is also an
orphan, estranged from her Kiowa father’s family when he moved away and married
a woman from another tribe. Now on her own, she returns to her father’s people
in Oklahoma, to the place where her ancient great-grandmother lies dying.
“Never had Grey to quest
after visions,” Momaday writes. In fact, in visions she’s visited Billy the
Kid, even participating through her dreams in his initial jail break escape
from execution.
So Grey is hardly
surprised when “one night, when the crickets and frogs made a strange
synchronism on the creek and the green moon seemed to bog and float on the
clouds, the grandmother Kope’mah whispered to her great-granddaughter Grey – it
was unrelated to anything she had said before – ‘the bear is coming.’” And she
dreams about a bear.
Far away in San Francisco,
Set receives a telegram: “Grandmother Kopemah near death. Please come at once.
Notify Cate.”
But who is this
grandmother he never knew? And why is he asked to notify his father Cate, death
for the past 30 years? And why, when he reaches the old family home, does he
learn his great-grandmother was buried on the very day the telegram was sent by
someone unknown?
What is real? What is
visionary? What is historic? What is legendary? What will Momaday reveal to his
readers, and what will he conceal? Adventure classics will begin to unravel
these threads next Friday as a June of stories about the Southwest continues.
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