About this title: Silko's book emphasizes the importance of storytelling in Pueblo culture, and discusses the implications of the ways the white man's culture has tried to destroy the tradition.
Note: This is a general synopsis. Each listing is described below.
Description: Good. Light shelf wear and minimal interior marks. Millions of satisfied customers and climbing. Thriftbooks is the name you can trust, guaranteed. Spend Less. Read More. read more
Edition: Later Printing
Binding: Trade Paperback
Publisher: Viking Penguin, New York, NY, U.S.A.
Date Published: 1986
ISBN-13:9780140086836ISBN:0140086838
Description: Good. As issued No Jacket. Spine lean, corner bumps, multiple used bookstore stickers on the covers and spine, scattered underlining to the text, handling creases to the covers, and other moderate to heavy shopwear. read more
Description: Good. Shows some signs of wear, and may have some markings on the inside. Shipped to over one million happy customers. Your purchase benefits world literacy! read more
"It's books like this that make me sad that my high school curriculum only consisted of the canon of dead white men. Of course, I don't regret having read those wonderful books, but I am astonished to discover in my thirties a novel as powerful as this that I had never ever heard of previously.
This might become one of my favorite books of all time. The novel seamlessly weaves between past and present, as well as native folklore, to tell the story of Tayo, a WWII veteran of mixed Native American, Mexican, and white heritage. And the telling itself is overwhelming beautiful.
This edition also has a great introduction by Larry McMurtry, as well as a preface by the author, who describes the process of writing the novel as only a woman would have to (figuring out childcare, negotiating workspace, balancing other obligations, etc.). And I love how she trenchantly dismisses the interest of some critics that she would choose a man as her main character: "Male novelists write about female protagonists all the time, so I will write about men."
Sherman Alexie, on the back of this edition, says it better than I could: "Ceremony is the greatest novel of Native American literature. It is one of the greatest novels of any time and place. I have read this book so many times that I probably have it memorized. I teach it and I learn from it and I am continually in awe of its power, beauty, rage, vision, and violence.""
"As a fan of contemporary Native American fiction (is it pretentious to say that??), reading this for the first time now was interesting, since it definitely paved the way for writers like Louise Erdrich. Standing on its own, now, it's maybe not as "fresh" as it was 30 years ago--I feel like I've read these kinds of "rediscovering native culture/reclamation/rebirth" themes before. (Not that that's Silko's fault; she came first, I'm reading out of order.) But still, I enjoyed her prose, and especially the way the different stories flowed together so seamlessly. Also, I loved her descriptions of the Southwest landscape--gorgeous."
"Ceremony is a story of violence and violation; of borders, the space between borders, and transitions; it is a story of recovery and healing; and it is a story that breaks down cultural forms, norms, and containers.
It is the story of Tayo, a mixed-blood veteran of World War II, as he struggles to realign himself in a healthy relationship with the rest of the world. Tayo's experience of post-traumatic stress disorder is skillfully evoked by Silko in passages in which the reader witnesses the fuzzy bleeding and blending of time and space to which Tayo is subjected as mundane events in his post-war life trigger his traumatic experiences in war and as a a prisoner of war at the hands of Japanese soldiers. Through these evocative passages and her subtle, atmospheric use of language, scenes of singular literary beauty blend and build a story which, if hazy at first, coalesces by the end of the book into what is a wonderful illustration of how trauma, suffering, and isolation can be overcome through meaningful participation in the world.
As Tayo progresses, taking two steps forward and one step back, then tentatively hunkering down in safe places where he may withdraw or attempt to integrate his experiences, his story spills over into oral histories of some of his ancestors. The story folds in on itself, reiterates and builds on itself in recursive and novel ways.
A pivotal point in the text occurs when Tayo visits an eccentric medicine man who lives alone on a ridge. From his modest home, this man involves himself in the complications of a hybridized world by storing and working with power objects that include not only the stereotypical Indian artifacts of ancestors, but also hundreds of pieces of modern detritus: stacks of newspapers and glass Coca-Cola bottles. All of these are arranged into a pattern, woven together in an arrangement evoking the dissonance and totality found in the post-colonial world. This holism of sacred and profane becomes the backdrop of Tayo's quest for wholeness and healing; the integration of and healthy blending of these two polarities could arguably be stated as the goal of Tayo's healing.
The book itself has been described as "a ceremony" by a reviewer at the Boston Globe and has been called "one of the greatest novels of any time and place" by Sherman Alexie. Certainly there is a ceremonial, an experiential, dimension to the reading of this exceptional narrative. A far cry from the clearly scripted and plotted fiction that many Americans prefer to consume, this book is slow and meandering. At the risk of sounding problematic, it is a book that exists in and moves on Indian time. Yet it is more: it is a book about transitions and transgressions, and it touches and transcends much of the violence of Western culture. Far from offering easy solutions, what Ceremony offers is much more profound and useful: it is a great work of literature, a storytelling which is an act and a movement towards an understanding of the human condition in a hybridized and fragmented world which is not easily articulated. And exceptionally, the book moves beyond articulation into the realm of suggestion: it ventures to offer one example of forward movement--not of progress, necessarily, for progress is a problematic word itself; instead, Ceremony shows us how we might return, or at least tells a story of return and healing. Its offering is more than enough: a rare work of incredible meaning and purpose, intent on synthesizing opposites, yet never losing sight of a moral purpose and holistic understanding of relations that has eluded Western culture throughout history."
"Although I wouldn't put this book at the top of the anti-war reads, there is much to like in this complexly styled book that takes the form of a native American prayer and vision. Ceremony may be now part of the high school canon...it makes many AP and college bound reading lists. It tells the story of Tayo, a native American who has become despondant after returning from Japan WWII. He failed to save his much more accomplished cousin during the war and now must return to deal with those who already disliked him because of his mixed race heritage. He feels guilt also as a Native American for fighting on the side of the white man who has been so instrumental in taking his people's land and tearing his cultural fabric to shreds of alcoholism, addiction, and apapthy. In fact, he can't cope until he finally sees a unorthodox but powerful medicine man who sets him on a ceremony that attempts to put his world back in balance. During the ceremony, Tayo makes the realization that the land he now prowls does not "belong" to the white men who parceled it up and sold it to homesteaders. No, in fact, we who live on it belong to the land."
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