Let the public rest assured: when a forty-plus-year-old novel is totally forgotten and remains obscure and hard to find, there’s a reason for that.
Here’s a rare thing: a history book written expressly for the Indigenous people of the N.W.T.
“What? Really? I made it? I’m in the NHL? Holy fuck,” writes Jordin Tootoo in this 2014 autobiography. “The next thing you know, I was a household name in Nashville.”
This is, quite simply, an amazing book.
Apart from a scant few insights into the Arctic cruising industry, this book is not at all about the North. Mostly, it’s about Kathleen Winter.
Libby Whittall Catling is no Karl Ove Knausgaard. She refuses to cross the bar of common decency and write about her life in explosive detail. But this is still an absorbing and reflective book about a very distant corner of the N.W.T.
I’m weirdly fascinated by this book. More by its existence than its actual contents.