It’s almost unfair how much memoirs can teach us. They allow us to glean one’s life experiences and emerge from these triumphs and tragedies physically unscathed. From former Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner I’ve learned that having a “plan beats no plan,” while former CIA director Leon Panetta taught me that presenting a supervisor with more than one idea increases success by giving him or her multiple options to choose from. Actor Tina Fey reminded me that groups function better if they follow the first two rules of improvisational theater, meaning that everyone listens to the person who is speaking and then (1) accepts what is being said and (2) adds something constructive to the conversation. Similarly, actor Amy Poehler’s habit of saying, “Good for you, but not for me,” is a phrase I’ve often used when teaching students about the demographic differences that make every American unique. So, no, as a memoir fanatic I was not surprised when Entertainment Weekly listed Sherman Alexie’s (Spokane-Coeur d’Alene) memoir as one of the “Most Anticipated Books of 2017.” Published in mid-June, You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me is worthy of being on everyone’s summer reading list. It will take you to some of the peaks and valleys in the life of one of America’s greatest writers—and in the process you may rediscover why reading memoirs produces a return on the time invested that can’t be quantified.

Sherman Alexie is a national treasure. He is an equally talented writer, poet, comedian, and freethinker whose influence is as far reaching as his talents are arresting. His work, in whichever medium he chooses, creates an experience that will stay with his audience much like the memory of a great concert or any other comparable moments when time stands still. He knows he’s a singular talent, and he wears that confidence like the great storyteller he is. Whether or not you’re familiar with his books, you’ll realize from the get-go why reading his memoir about coming to terms with his mother’s passing will be time well spent. It’s a raw, gut-wrenching, bare-knuckle, and sometimes-funny account of his learning to cope and forgive the woman he clearly loved but who could not shield him from the horrors of life, both on and beyond the Spokane reservation. While the book is about his personal forgiveness, reading it is a soul-cleansing experience for the rest of us. 

Yet, Alexie doesn’t hold a monopoly on engaging Native American memoirs, and so once you’ve closed the book’s cover I suggest you open that of Mohawk musician Robbie Robertson. Published last fall, Robertson’s Testimony chronicles his assent from small Canadian gigs to being one of the most sought after and influential musicians of his generation. Robertson took his time writing this book, and it shows in both his attention to detail and his tailored descriptions of meeting and working with artists like Bob Dylan, the Beatles, Eric Clapton, and countless others. Beyond that, it’s a book about success through loyalty in a business that often rewards individuals rather than collectives. Throw in numerous humorous anecdotes, a scandalous run-in with the law, and a mobster-connected paternal uncle, and one realizes why Robertson’s recollections pass as smoothly as the musical harmonies in his songs. 

Native women have also produced some engrossing memoirs over the past few years. Joy Harjo’s (Muscogee) Crazy Brave is an honest and inspiring tale of her journey in becoming a multi-talented artist, while Leslie Marmon Silko’s (Laguna Pueblo) The Turquoise Ledge is both a wonderful family remembrance and a how-to guide for spending time alone with the wonders of one’s own imagination. Deborah A. Miranda’s (Esselen) Bad Indians: A Tribal Memoir tells her own history and that of her tribe through a voice that is astute, heartbreaking, angry, and lively—sometimes all at the same time. Each of these books is wonderful in its own right, but together they make a strong study in tenacity and perseverance. 

Today’s memoirists are standing on the shoulders of great voices from the past. N. Scott Momaday’s (Kiowa) 1976 book, The Names: A Memoir, is still captivating. So is the beautiful book, Mankiller: A Chief and Her People, written by the late Cherokee chief Wilma Mankiller. People interested in the roots of the American Indian Movement should check out the autobiographies of Russell Means (Oglala Lakota) and Dennis Banks (Ojibwa). Or for those looking to read about one of the giants of American Indian resistance, I recommend Chiricahua Apache leader and medicine man Geronimo’s book, Geronimo: His Own Story: The Autobiography of a Great Patriot Warrior. It’s a barebones chronicle of his life and legacy as he hoped it’d be remembered.   

How we remember people we’ve never met is a question we each must ponder, but I believe recalling the insights they’ve shared is a fine starting point. When Sherman Alexie visited College of Menominee Nation where I teach, he told the audience that parents should not be their children’s gatekeepers. Rather, Alexie argued that parents should be like helpful river raft captains. We should steer our kids between the shores while still allowing them to seize whatever flotsam and jetsam floats by. The raft riders can then decide for themselves which ideas to pursue and which to let flow past. This methodical yet undeniably life-enriching process has much in common with siphoning insight from a great memoir. There’s invaluable knowledge contained within their pages—it’s up to each of us to explore the stories they hold and the wisdom they keep.         

Ryan Winn teaches English, theater, and communication at College of Menominee Nation, where he has been recognized as the American Indian College Fund’s Faculty Member of the Year.

Editor’s note: The opinions expressed in the Inquisitive Academic or any other opinion columns published by the Tribal College Journal (TCJ) do not necessarily reflect the opinions of TCJ or the American Indian Higher Education Consortium.