Reading post: House Made of Dawn

I have finished my 12th and last book for the Classics Challenge: House Made of Dawn by N. Scott Momaday (Kiowa), which was published in 1968, just 53 years ago. I chose it to fulfill category #5, "A classic by a BIPOC author," where BIPOC stands for Black, Indigenous, People of Color. Nine of my 12 authors would fit into this category, so it was just a matter of choosing which book to put here. House Made of Dawn won the Pulitzer Prize in 1969 and is considered to have kicked off the Native American Renaissance in literature.

Momaday (who is still alive, born in 1934) is Kiowa on his father's side, but his mother was part Cherokee and part white. Momaday was born in Oklahoma and lived for a while on the Kiowa reservation there, but when he was young his parents moved to the Southwest to teach at the Navajo, Pueblo, and Apache reservations, and that's where he grew up. Momaday says that his main character Abel's home village in House Made of Dawn is based on Jemez Pueblo in New Mexico -- which reminds me of Frank Waters' book, The Man Who Killed the Deer, which was set at Taos Pueblo in New Mexico. I haven't yet found anything written about the connection between the two novels, but it seems like there might be something -- probably behind an academic journal paywall. Both were based on true stories and describe the spiritual journey of an Indian man whose soul has been disturbed by white culture -- but of course that is the central theme of most Native American literature that I've read. Waters' book is more hopeful, while Momaday's is more realistic.

I was surprised, when I started reading House Made of Dawn, that it is set in the past, i.e., several years prior to 1968, when it was published. The first chapter takes place in 1945, and the rest of the book in 1952. I don't know why Momaday chose to do this, but his character Abel is just back from service in World War II at the start of the book, so that's important. The saddest scene in the book is near the beginning, when Abel's grandfather -- the only member of his family still alive -- drives his old wagon to meet his grandson's bus. Abel is returning from military service and this should be a happy reunion. But Abel is dead drunk and does not even recognize his grandfather. It's symbolic of what's happened to Abel, what a mess he is after his interaction with white society.

The book is beautifully written, but it isn't easy to read. I got lost in the language many times and had very little idea what was happening. Wikipedia told me that the book was originally supposed to be a series of poems, then a collection of stories, and finally became a novel. And that makes a lot of sense. The various sections don't hang together well. When Abel becomes involved with the white woman, Angela, I thought that would lead to something bad, but I don't think it does (see, I'm not even sure). It doesn't really lead anywhere, although she shows up again near the end of the book. There's an albino Indian, and Abel kills him because he thinks he's a snake or a witch (I don't think that had anything to do with Angela, but maybe it did), and then he goes to jail, and after he's released he goes to Los Angeles, where the rest of the book takes place until Abel goes home again. 

This is a little weird to say, but after reading the book I felt sorry for Scott Momaday. The novel is beautiful and shows a lot of promise, but I'm not sure it deserved the Pulitzer Prize (though, looking at a list of books published in 1968, maybe it was the best choice). This is a case where early success probably stifled someone who could have become a great writer, who had the ability. He published only a few things after House Made of Dawn, bits and pieces, poetry and stories and essays and just one other novel. You get the feeling he might have been afraid to publish something that wouldn't live up to his first book. Of course, he was also busy being an English professor and a sort of ambassador for Indigenous writers and writing.

The main achievement of House Made of Dawn, in my opinion, was how it inspired and opened doors for other Native American writers. Without Momaday's work there might have been no Louise Erdrich, who I consider a national treasure, someone who was not stifled by early success and has gone on to write amazing novels. I gather that Momaday has accepted his fate and his role. I might read more by him -- people seem to like his second book, The Way to Rainy Mountain, which "blends folklore with memoir." All in all, this was an interesting way to end the Challenge -- not with a bang, but with a thoughtful, imperfect, but valuable read.