Chenoo by Joseph Bruchac (review)

"THE PAST, like the roots of a tree, holds up the present. Trace those roots and you may find the source of whatever it is that is going on now, especially when some of those roots turn out to be rotten" (109). These are the reflections of Penacook private investigator Jacob "Podjo" Neptune. As the book opens, Podjo's cousin Dennis Mitchell calls the smart-aleck P.I., who is a student of martial arts, keeper of Abenaki oral tradition, dispenser of Native humor and part-time poet, to investigate two grisly murders on Abenaki Island, his people's ancestral home.

The investigation, however, is complicated by the horrific nature of the crimes and events that are unfolding on the island. A group of intertribal activists, who call themselves the Children of the Mountain, have taken over a state campground located on land that rightfully belongs to the Abenakis. Their intention is to protect the land not only from the federal government but also from those in their own tribal government who would develop it into a casino and resort. During the siege, two of the occupiers are brutally attacked and killed (one victim even appears to have been partially devoured) by what investigators can only guess is a bear or possibly a wicked Chenoo, or Windigo.

Despite the classic setup, Chenoo is far from your typical whodunit. As author Joseph Bruchac makes clear in his preface, the novel is "about Native American rights, about the power of tradition and story [and] about martial arts" (v). To this I would add that Chenoo is also about time and memory and our various cultural attitudes about them. As Podjo and his cousin Dennis evade police blockades to assist the activists, many of whom they had grown up with years earlier, they rely on each of these vital elements to help lead them to the killer or killers.

While Podjo's practice of martial arts allows him to survive predicaments in which he is physically outnumbered or outmatched, it is his awareness of tradition and cultural memory that guides him throughout the book. While on the trail of the killer, he often recalls centuries-old oral traditions that relate to the challenges he faces. In this way, both author and protagonist remind us that "stories count" and can be useful resources for guiding us through life (ix). Stories also help Podjo size up those around him. In one instance, he chalks up his unease with a character named Mook to old stories that recount how Mook's family descended from toads.

Dreams, too, play an important role in Podjo's investigation. Foes fought in his vivid nightmares prepare him to take on adversaries in real life. In another scene, a dream remembered from days earlier leads him to the body of a victim who had been attacked but survives.

Even the land is an ally in the investigation as Dennis and Pudjo take comfort in the fact that they are protected by their ancestral home. They are confident that any outsiders who dare to attack them there will be at a dual disadvantage of being both unfamiliar with the land and unloved by it.

I find Bruchac's use of time and memory to be one of the novel's most fascinating elements. Throughout Podjo's adventures, he utilizes the habits and knowledge of long-dead Abenaki warriors who are never far away. "As we stand on this hilltop we call the present moment," Podjo muses, "most of us look only at the ground just before our feet. Some of us, blessed or cursed with longer sight, lift our eyes to discern what lies ahead … or turn our heads to look farther back. Then we must be prepared for what we see" (129).

This brings us finally to the central metaphor of the book, the Chenoo or Windigo monster found throughout Algonquin oral tradition. At various points, Bruchac compares the monster to the federal government, land developers, and those who lust for positions of power. Because the Chenoo was once a...