Nanabush. A name that has a certain weight on the tongue—a taste. Like lit sage in a windowless room or aluminum foil on a metal filling.
Trickster. Storyteller. Shape-shifter. An ancient troublemaker with the power to do great things, only he doesn't want to put in the work.
Since coming home to Spirit Bear Point First Nation, Hazel Ellis has been dreaming of an old crow. He tells her he's here to help her, save her. From what, exactly? Sure, her dad's been dead for almost two years and she hasn't quite reconciled that grief, but is that worth the time of an Algonquin demigod?
Soon Hazel learns that there's more at play than just her own sadness and doubt. The quarry that's been lying unsullied for over a century on her father's property is stirring the old magic that crosses the boundaries between this world and the next. With the aid of Nanabush, Hazel must unravel a web of deceit that, if left untouched, could destroy her family and her home on both sides of the Medicine Wheel. (From HarperAvenue)
Karen McBride is an Algonquin Anishinaabe writer from the Timiskaming First Nation in the territory that is now Quebec. Crow Winter is her first novel.
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From the book
I always thought it would be Raven.
The one who finally decided it was time to teach me. Raven seemed like the right fit. In all the big stories, he's the leading man. A beautiful bird with glossy black feathers. He's strong and graceful. Got a sharp wit and dclever tongue. I heard that he found the First People on the beaches of the West Coast. That he stole the sun one day just for the fun of it. Tough, self-assured, a good sense of humour. All the things a real Spirit Guide should be.
As I drive, I press the lever down to wash the windshield and watch as the pale blue liquid shoots onto the glass. I hold it down longer than I should, watching as the wipers move back and forth. Most of the bugs come off in the first pass, but a particularly juicy one stays put. No matter. I know this road well. The early-August corn is high in the fields on either side of me. I role the windows down to let the fresh country air into the car. A flurry of birds rushes into the sky from one of the fields as I pass. I track their silhouettes for as long as I can, then return to scanning the highway stretched out in front of me.
From Crow Winter by Karen McBride ©2019. Published by HarperAvenue.