A Review of Shane Hawk’s “Anoka”

From the back cover:

“‘Please find another hobby. This is too horrible for words. How can you imagine someone enjoying this?’ – My supportive, yet skeptical, grandma.”

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This book became a good friend to me when I was on vacation in my hometown. I had read all that I needed to read from the old shelves I had in my bedroom, and I needed to get out of the house, anyway. I can only take so much time with the delights of the city before I need to get out of there. I took a bus to a mall and decided to browse and mope around a bit at a bookstore to see if anything would catch my attention. I had plenty to read, but nothing that really stood out for me, or could make me step away from the boredom and disappointment I felt that season.

And I found it.

Horror is a genre that I am sure plenty of people avoid, beyond the fanatics devoted to Stephen King’s latest tome. It was tempting to go back to Maine’s most famous resident for a distraction, but I wanted to give a new voice a chance. And with Shane Hawk’s first collection, I stumbled on a voice that I want to hear more from.

This is first collection of stories and it is subtitled, “A Collection of Indigenous Horror”. Now, I was very intrigued and wanted to know more. Native myths are a part of the North American narrative and history of the lands. I knew about the Wendigo from my own reading, and had learned a bit more about trickster gods and other figures from research done in my own free time. But indigenous horror? This was surprising…and a treat.

In only seven stories, Mr. Hawk opens up a whole world around the town of Anoka, a Minnesota town whose original Dakota name, a-no-ka-tan-han, means “on both sides of the river”. This matters. You have the sense that the author wants you to see what you may not have noticed from just one side of story. His background is divided between Cheyenne and Arapaho on his father’s side; Italian and Finnish on his mother’s. This also matters. To face these dualities in oneself and to put them on the page is much more difficult than we want to admit. And the stories betray his talent for this task.

The prose is spare, raw and direct. Three of the stories stood out to me and I would like to quote certain passages at length.

From “Wounded”:

Peter relished the thought that he had won. He beat that infernal book and didn’t give in to its demand for suicide. He didn’t give in to its trickery…

A muffled cackle permeated the earth and grew into maniacal laughter.

From “Dead America” (the longest story in the collection):

To calm down and find his center, Chaska recited a prayer his grandfather made him memorize as a child:

Help me remain calm and strong in the face of all that comes toward me.

I seek strength, not to be greater than my brother, but to fight my greatest enemy: myself.

Finally, “Transfigured” (the last story in the collection):

Turning hurt every time, but it was getting easier. Most things are like that. The sky’s transition to twilight prompted me to go to my backyard, to my shed… Every change left a residual odor. Reminded me of burnt hair and a week-old animal corpse. Couldn’t get rid of the smell with any spray from the store, so I stopped trying. Got used to it, anyway.

So, you have the biological and the psychological in combat; deep insights into how we can cope with terrors that go beyond the norm; issues of race and culture we are now acknowledging; and in that last story the best description of a werewolf’s transformation I have read in a very long time, all flecked with dry humour and wit.

As I noted, this is just a collection of stories, but you should keep your eye on that name and be prepared for more from Mr. Hawk. This is one of the most impressive debuts of horror fiction that I have read in a while, and I think that we all need lessons on how cultures beyond our own interpret that wild and wonderful genre.

Thank you, Mr. Hawk. I needed the scares…and the lesson that we all have a voice, no matter what stories we tell.

And your grandma should be proud.

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You can find more poems, stories, and articles by Kendall Defoe on my Vocal profile. I complain, argue, provoke and create...just like everybody else.

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