by Hannah Ryder
November 7, 2023
Hannah Ryder holds an MFA from Savannah College of Art & Design. Her writing and photography can be found in Great Lakes Review, Port City Review, Qua Literary and Fine Arts Magazine, and Tangled Locks Journal. She serves as an Associate Creative Nonfiction Editor at West Trade Review. Find more at hannahryder.com.
A Grandmother Begins the Story by Michelle Porter; Algonquin Books; 344 pages; $28.00.
There is little in this world more wonderful than picking up a novel because of its cover and then discovering what lies between the covers is just as magical, if not more. Métis author Michelle Porter’s first novel A Grandmother Begins the Story is a stellar example of this phenomenon and introduces readers to five generations of Métis women and a lyrical storytelling style that is full of hurt and hopefulness as readers follow each character through a litany of struggles and glimmers of triumphs. Family is the backbone of the novel and is exemplified through the telling and retelling of stories, the constant connection to the natural world, and love, for better or worse, of men, culture, life, and most importantly, each other.
The novel introduces readers to five women from the same family: Carter, who is reconnecting with her biological family when her grandmother asks Carter to help kill her; Allan, or Allie, who distances herself from her mother after a tumultuous childhood; Lucie, who is ready to pass away and enlists the help of a grandchild she doesn’t know; Geneviève, an aging alcoholic who is determined to heal herself and connect with her deceased sister; and Mamé, who is transitioning to the Afterlife and looks down on her successors while trying to finally cut ties with what is holding her back.
The inclusion of the natural world adds unique depth to the novel and is personified through Dee, a young bison who struggles with her choices and obligations to her herd versus her the desires of her heart. Porter handles Dee like the way she handles her human characters; that is to say, Porter does not make the bison herd feel unlike a community of humans who, related or not, care for one another. The choice to include an anthropomorphic character reinforces the idea that the natural world and humanity is interconnected. By making Dee’s story blend in with the rest of the perspectives in the novel, as well as giving her a storyline that reflects the others’, Porter’s use of bison is unique and seamless in its inclusion. The bison herd is made of elders, often referred to as “aunties,” who tell the calves stories and keep tradition alive through them. In the same way a young adult might rebuff their family, Dee writes off the elders’ advice, but Porter suggests that the love of stories, both those of humans and bison, is stronger. Dee later tells her son “…all the stories her mother had told her and all the stories the grandmothers said she needed to pass on.”
Generational stories and their later retelling are the largest connector between all characters within the novel. Traditions, like beading and dancing, makes Carter feel separated from her biological family, and she struggles to connect with her mother and feeling like she belonged. Carter attempts to reconnect with her mother Allie and her two half-sisters, but consistently feels othered: “I didn’t belong there with those other Métis: most of them had grown up with their parents in their culture.” Belonging is something she struggled with continuously, mirroring Dee’s not wanting to belong to the herd and instead chase the bull she loved with past the fences that hold the herd together.
Love is never explicitly vocalized between characters; instead, Porter exemplifies the love through the way each woman continues to show up for herself, her culture, and her children. Geneviève wrestles with her alcoholism and her age, knowing that she should check herself into rehab. Before she leaves, she hallucinates a conversation with her deceased husband, John, and when the hallucination asks her to stay in her home with him, she answers, “What about my life?” Mamé and Dee especially struggle with their relationships to the men they love. Mamé reflects on her husband, Bob, whom she chose over everything else: “I went and I chose him…It was him. Every time.” Dee is instantly infatuated with Jay despite the warnings from her elders that Jay was no good for her. “The aunties told Dee that no good would come of making too much of any one bull,” Porter writes. Both characters subvert familial expectations to chase the men they love, regardless of the outcome.
Conversely, Geneviève loves those in her past, so intensely that it all but blocks everything else out. After losing her sister Velma several decades prior and her husband John recently, Geneviève carries their memories around with her, seeing both John and Velma during hallucinations on her journey to get sober before she joins them in the Afterlife. She reckons with Velma’s death through music, something the sisters shared, and converses with Velma during her stay in rehab. These themes tie each woman together in different ways and makes Porter’s novel a shining success.
The largest success of this novel is in its interconnection between all characters—even the animals and the earth. Short chapters and unique character voices avoids confusing the reader while still moving the story along. Porter also introduces her Métis culture in these pages through her characters, both through the elder women who grew up with the songs and traditions and the younger women who are a bit removed from the culture but are curious to access that part of themselves. “She drew on her mother’s despair,” Porter writes of an elder bison, “on her grandmother’s rage, and on their grandmother’s strength.” No matter what challenge they face, Porter’s characters tap into the generational strength whether they themselves know it or not.
A Grandmother Begins the Story is nothing less than a breathtaking success with its unique characters, bending of genres, and inclusion of the Métis culture. It is difficult not to resonate with at least one of the novel’s flawed but inherently lovable characters, whether human or animal. It’s easy to be drawn into the lives of these women because we want to see conflict, whether interpersonal or intrapersonal, and we want to resonate with the idea that there is nothing simply good or bad. There is much to internalize upon finishing the book; the most persistent is to reflect on how our own stories tie generations together and if our stories really end at all. Thankfully, they live forever.
©2023 Iron Oak Editions LLC
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Our Stories Keep Us Together: Métis Author Michelle Porter Explores the Circuity of Family and Womanhood in A Grandmother Begins the Story
FICTION REVIEW
Stay Connected to Our Literary Community. Subscribe to Our Newsletter
Image by Weston M from Unsplash
