FUR QUEEN tells the truly sad tale of Champion and Ooneemeetoo Okimasis, Cree brothers growing up in Northern Manitoba. At an all-too-early age, Champion and Ooneemeetoo are torn from their magical life, thrust headlong into Canada's then-enforced policy of subjecting native children to Catholic residential schools. They are renamed Jeremiah and Gabriel, force-fed a life of Christian beliefs, subjected to monstrous acts by the priests, and removed from any conception of their people's history, language, and traditions. Slowly maturing into young men, Champion (Jeremiah) begins a career as a concert pianist, while Gabriel pursues a life in dance. As they struggle to cope in a world that increasingly alienates them from their past, their heritage re-enters their lives in unexpected and sometimes tragic ways.
Highway is a gifted writer, as evident from the multitude of awards he recieved for his plays THE REZ SISTERS and DRY LIPS OUGHT TO MOVE TO KASPUSKASING (both incredible plays, by the way). His presentation of the realities of Native-Canadian life has been lauded for its sense of humanity in the face of horror, as well as for showing a world that many people would rather ignore, or refuse to believe exists. So it is with FUR QUEEN. Highway's slow evolution of the narrative is masterful, travelling from the nostalgic remembrances of a child's idyllic life to the brutalities that face Native-Canadians in the 'evolved' city of Winnipeg. His inter-twining of Cree mythology with modern prose serves to more fully involve the reader in the Okimasis's daily struggle. At times, the writing becomes a bit confusing, slightly hallucinatory, but this disparity aids the reader in understanding the warring factions that exist within the minds of Jeremiah and Gabriel. We are all products of our upbringing, and nowhere is this more evident than in the confusion and self-loathing that threatens to consume the brothers at every turn.
But when does it become too autobiographical to qualify as fiction? Granted, almost all authors could be accused of importing elements of their lives into their work, but Highway pushes the envelope. He, too, grew up in Northern Manitoba, and was forced, along with his brother Rene, to attend Catholic school. There, they were both abused at the hands of their religious teachers, in a ongoing chapter of Canadian history that must surely rank as one of its most shameful. Rene grew up to be a dancer, while Tomson slowly evolved as a writer, much as Jeremiah does. And all the while, both were subjected to the casual and blatant racism that Native-Canadians face daily.
Yet perhaps this is besides the point. Whether one's story is thinly disguised as 'fiction' or not does not alter the powerful nature of the story itself. By attributing a fictional aspect to the narrative, Highway may be better able to import the more fantastical elements that lurk behind the realism, adding the omnipresent Fur Queen as a fairy godmother of sorts, a personal angel that guides the Okimasis family through their tribulations. And whether autobiographical or not, FUR QUEEN constantly guides the reader into unexpected places.
Are there better novels out there? Yes. Highway sometimes loses control of the story, and his experienced hand at dialogue is sometimes thwarted by the more descriptive nature of a novel. Despite this, KISS OF THE FUR QUEEN is an important novel, one that should be told many times over. The story is far too familiar for those in similar circumstances, and far too imcomprehensible for those lucky enough to have had a choice in where their lives would take them. By confronting the issues, as Highway does fearlessly, we can see where we've been, and maybe we can affect change as to where we're headed.