Nebraska Books

In this wonderful collection of D/N/Lakota stories originally published in 1901, Zitkala'sa ("Little Red Bird") retells fourteen legends (listed below)from the oral tradition. Most of the stories involve Iktomi (Unktomi) the Spider Trickster and his moral misadventures. Other stories include the Avenger and Iya ("Mouth")the Glutton. Most of the stories are used in showing the proper norms for D/N/Lakota society: be generous, do not be greedy, be hospitable, do not boast about yourself, do not deceive others to attain things, be merciful, be a good relative, etc. The reader will notice that some of the later stories do not follow the pattern of teaching morality, but seem to reflect older stories that do not always seem to follow logically. All in all, they are amazing stories that Zitkala'sa, also known as Gertrude Simmons Bonnin, wrote for primarily white audiences. There is a nice biographical sketch of Zitkala'sa and the illustrations by Angel De Cora are interesting in that they imagine the characters in human form.

Here are the stories as they appear in the book: "Iktomi and the Ducks," "Iktomi's Blanket," "Iktomi and the Muskrat," "Iktomi and the Coyote," "Iktomi and the Fawn," "The Badger and the Bear," "The Tree-Bound," "Shooting of the Red Eagle," "Iktomi and the Turtle," "Dance in the Buffalo Skull," "The Toad and the Boy," "Iya, the Camp-Eater," "Man'stin, The Rabbit," and "The Warlike Seven."

I like older books like this one, and I have long refused to adopt the contemporary notion that "new" somehow means "good" or "better". I also admit to being a Custerphile and, for most of my years, I have been intrigued by the life and times of this historic personage and, in general, fascinated with the Souix and Cheyenne Indian wars.

Along with the virtuoso/composer Franz Liszt, I identify with Custer. Both personages -- brilliant, bold, and brimming with life and energy -- apparently evoked powerful responses in the people they came into contact with. It seems that they were either adored or despised; reactions were rarely lukewarm. This fact speaks volumes -- if you are passively doing nothing that really matters to anyone and are viewed as just another mindless "go along and get along" mediocrity who appears to stand for nothing, you will be categorized as non-threatening and everyone will seem to "like" you. But if you are meaningfully involved in "action", "change", or in "making a difference", you will provoke the envious crowd and rapidly accumulate enemies. Take heart, I say! You can be distinguished and even honored by the level of the opposition -- it's like a sign of success. Just think, Custer eventually had the President of the United States out to get him!

John Burkman, like a willing follower in search of a worthy leader, was one of those who had strong, positive reactions to Custer. In fact, he came to idolize Custer, and apparently for good reasons. Burkman, nicknamed "Old Neutriment" because of his late-night kitchen raids at Ft. Lincoln, was Custer's devoted "striker". This book was compiled by Wagner from interview notes taken by I. D. "Bud" O'Donnell, who befriended the reclusive and somewhat eccentric Burkman late in life. Burkman -- gradually coaxed out of his reticence by O'Donnell and family -- romantically and sentimentally remembered the "merry times" (that's what Libby Custer called them) when he spent nine years as orderly in the service of Custer and "Libby", eventually becoming almost like a member of their family. Author Wagner does an admirable job in endeavoring to preserve the old striker's crusty speech.

Burkman's life appears to have lost meaning and purpose with the demise of his golden-haired master at the Little Big Horn. Years later, an aged and melancholy Burkman observed that, "Seems like they want no use me goin' on,..." After spending years working himself up to it, Burkman committed suicide in 1925. He was found dead on his boarding house porch in Billings, Montana, a smoking pistol in one hand and a bag of candy in the other.

Burkman knew Custer close up, and his memories cast significant light on what Custer was like as a personality. My advice is to read Libby Custer's books along with this one to get the best "feel" for the times, the person, and the circumstances. There is also much of historical value lurking in these pages, in addition to the plain-spoken, genuine human warmth and affection, sans the ubiquitous, snide cynisism of our modern times.

I am originally from Atlanta. This book is excellent. I have only gotten to the Battle Kennesaw Mountain. Very, very good book.

About eight years ago, I read Peter Sano's story when it was in its earliest form. I knew then that he should have it published - and finally, he did. Peter was born in America but at the age of 15, in 1939, he was sent to Japan to become the adopted son of his childless aunt and uncle. Drafted into the Japanese army in 1945, Peter was sent to war. By being in the wrong place at the wrong time, Peter ended up in Siberian POW and labor camps for three years before finally being released. During those years, Peter made life bearable for many of his fellow prisoners, often at his own expense - and though he downplays his heroism, he kept some people alive who would otherwise have perished. His is a tale both humorous and tragic and in the end, inspiring. Today, Peter is back in America, an accomplished architect, husband, father, and one of the kindest and gentlest souls I have ever met. It was impossible to put down his manuscript once I started it until I had devoured every page. I recommend this book to anyone who enjoys tales of triumph over adversity, love beating hate, and quick wits winning out over the harshest odds.

In Opa Nobody, Sonya Huber expands the territory of the memoir by engaging in speculation of the most fruitful kind about the family history that history itself conspired to make only partially available. The result is a memoir reminiscent of novels that incorporate similar strategies, among them Philip Roth's American Pastoral and William Styron's Sophie's Choice. Lofty company, this, but it is company Huber has earned. Opa Nobody is highly recommended.

Opera has become yet another popular sport today,and thank someone that a growing number of essayists and scholars have switched away from the cloistered rigours of musical academia, an academia that simply analyzes how the notes and tones move and come toward organization. This is valuable but explains nothing of the especially fascinating aspects of opera,its historical,social and political dimensions This book indeed has a focus drawing the darker sides of opera's implications. Desire for instance hits us right in the face as in Bizet's "Carmen". There a town in Seville was the site of a tobacco factory employed by only scantily clad women. It was hot in Seville and men(this is a true story) travelled from all over Europe just for a glimpse of the flesh of women rolling these penis-shaped objects. The Hutcheon's bring fascinating detail to their subjects. Michael Hutcheon is a doctor and analyzes the prevalence of consumption and tuberculosis in 19th Century Europe the backdrop of Verdi's "La Traviata". There is story of a consumptive kept woman devoted to the love and desire in all night parties in Paris.But there is a very human side to her as well not simply an avaricious opportunist. Disease was a bourgeois curse at that time that threatened to disrupt the middle-class family values as well as a disruption of profit-making. It was these classes who were in attendance at the opera,so these themes indeed stuck a social resonance. Someone like Violetta Valery, Verdi's anti-heroine, was the focus of this disruption(Violetta after "violare" in Italian to violate). We learn also of the presence of syphillis as an extension of these disruptive disease. The prostitutes in Lille infected the master race during the Second World War, as a means of guerilla warfare, which worked quite well. Speaking about opera in this way drawing all these details from opera's story-lines,plots and aesthetic strategies makes fascinating reading as well as enriching opera's scholarship beyond the four-corners of the music.

From 1853 to about 1929, more than 200,000 children and several thousand adults were sent west on "orphan trains," leaving crowded urban areas on the East Coast behind. Holt's book focuses on the placing out system--from its creation to its demise--instituted by the Children's Aid Society of New York. Estimates of the number of destitute children living in the streets of New York in 1853 ranged from 10,000 to more than 30,000. Charles Loring Brace, who became secretary of The Children's Aid Society believed there was no better place for vagrant or outcast children than "the farmer's home." Placing out removed destitute children from the streets of New York City, placing them with families in the west. The system was intended to provide Christian homes and families for orphaned or abandoned children while fulfilling the demand for workers on farms in America's heartland. The author also discusses other charitable organizations that imitated Children's Aid Society initiatives. She uses oral histories, institutional records, and newspaper accounts to bring the orphan train era to life in this balanced account, highlighting both the positive and negative aspects of the placing out system. Her discussion of social and economic structures of the 19th century help readers view the topic in context. This is a "must read" for anyone conducting further research in the topic, or readers who are simply interested in this lost chapter of American history.

Dr. Quintero has compiled information on the Osage language, and then managed actually to analyze it and deliver the first complete grammar of Osage. This is a herculean task, of special importance in that the last few remaining speakers are passing away. It is to be hoped that this fine work will find success in academic circles, certainly, but even more importantly, that the current resurgence in interest in the language will find this a valuable tool. Anyone who loves language, as I do, will recognize the brilliance with which Dr. Quintero approached this task. It is difficult to say that grammar reading is a pleasure -- but this book is indeed a pleasure to study.

Now I would like to see some short books of stories in the language.

Like most European students (in movies and novels, anyway), the narrator seldom studies anything, preferring to associate with a fascinating, maybe fatal, woman and her shady boyfriend. He has a hard time figuring out what the pair are up to, and his mystery is thus ours. Fundamentally, this descends from the ancient romances of inscrutable, enchanting women, with the city replacing the forest as setting; but it recalls more immediately French black-and-white films of the 50s like "Diabolique." You can read it as a mystery story or a subtly artful narrative reminiscent of Robbe-Grillet's. It's hard to believe so witty and verbally charming a novel could be a translation.

Sandys translation is deeply layered with images, not to mention the copious notes he has made throughout. Though later (1632), his rhythm is closer to Ovid's than Golding's 1567 version, and is taut and dense. I was thrilled that this was reprinted.