I have read and loved all of Robinson’s previous novels, and I couldn’t be happier to learn that Son of a Trickster is the first in a planned trilogy about Native teen Jared and his exploration of both the real and the spirit worlds in Kitimat, B.C. This novel is a very unique combination of coming-of-age family drama, Indigenous beliefs and Northwest Coast flavoured magic realism.

We first meet Jared as a sweet young child who is incredibly loved by his parents and by his dad’s mother, who he calls Nana. His maternal grandmother, however, avoids him as much as possible, because she believes that he is possessed by the Trickster spirit, known as Wee’git. When we next see Jared, he is sixteen and his life has changed irrevocably – his father abandoned his family after a work injury led to a devastating painkiller addiction, and his mother is dating a violent drug dealer. Jared himself is a burnout who drinks too much, but at heart he is still selfless and caring – when he’s not baking pot cookies to pay his parents’ bills, he’s taking care of his elderly neighbours next door.

Jared’s mom got pregnant when she was very young, and so her relationship with her son is more of a friendship between peers. She struggles with drug abuse, and subjects Jared to an unhealthy and unstable home life, but at heart, she loves him deeply. Their banter over text message is authentic and funny, even when it is devastating. Robinson is well aware of the ways people communicate today (texting, Facebook) and she manages to insert this language into her novel without sounding contrived, as other writers often do.

Through his business as the “Cookie Dude,” Jared interacts with all levels of the highschool hierarchy, and Robinson provides us with a multidimensional view of Native life in northern B.C. – some of his friends live on the Rez, while others come from wealthy, privileged homes. Jared’s on-again off-again girlfriend Sarah is mostly white, and yet she is the first one to introduce him to the Idle No More protests. Even though the novel is rooted in traditional Haisla/Heiltsuk folklore, it is accessible and relatable to teenage life everywhere.

Although Jared often experiences blackouts and hallucinations while drunk or high, he becomes alarmed when he starts seeing spirits while completely sober. He is often accompanied by a raven, who gives him advice – but the spirits are not always benign. When his Nana hears about these spiritual experiences, she wants to step in and help him understand his traditional magical roots. Jared’s mother also knows more about it than she lets on, and more secrets from her past are yet to be revealed.

There are so many threads to follow throughout this novel, which will hopefully be delved into in the rest of the Trickster trilogy. The characters are all so current and authentic – even the minor characters feel like people you might meet in real life. The balance of character and plot, the contemporary magic realism, and the focus on Northwest Coast culture – every part of this novel is on my list of favourite fictional elements, and I’m so glad there are two more Trickster books on the way.

I received this book from Knopf Canada and NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Thank you to Netgalley for giving me the opportunity to read an ecopy of this novel. I have been a fan of Eden Robinson's writing ever since I read Monkey Beach. Son of a Trickster is well-written and honest, with much magical realism woven into the story, but I did not enjoy it as much as Monkey Beach. Although I laughed at a lot of the verbal sparring between characters, especially between Jared and his mom, I got tired of the constant partying, violence, drinking, drugs...and vomiting (lol!). I was annoyed at the negative image of aboriginal people, and then I realized there was a lesson in this story...a good lesson. Jared found his way back to his traditions and his sobriety. I was relieved, and I ultimately enjoyed this book. It is a very well crafted novel, the characters are real and interesting, and the magical realism is cleverly interwoven into the story...and I am so glad to know that it is part of a trilogy. That's fantastic! It's a really good book and I recommend it to readers!

Two things drew me to this book: Eden Robinson (Haisla First Nation author) + magical realism. I previously read and enjoyed Robinson’s Monkey Beach. Son of a Trickster stars teenage boy Jared, who differs greatly from Monkey Beach’s adult woman Lisa (what an astute observation, Jenna). I didn’t realize how much my enjoyment of Monkey Beach depended on Lisa until I started Son of a Trickster. Jared is a great character but not one with which I personally connect.

When I read Monkey Beach, I did not anticipate any magical realism. Only when I finished the book and participated in a group discussion did the term come up to describe the story. I personally wouldn’t have described the book as magical realism, although technically that’s what it was (to me it was a lot more real than magical). I only remembered all this when I looked back on my review a few minutes ago. 😛 In contrast, I had high expectations for the magical realism in Son of a Trickster. I lifted expectations for Son of a Trickster from Monkey Beach without considering the obvious differences between the books.

The jacket description above describes spot-on the content of Son of a Trickster. It’s my bad for expecting more magical realism in this tale. A virtual footnote in the summary translates to a relatively minor role in the story. Jared’s ‘magical’ abilities start to have a serious impact on the story about two thirds of the way in. I liked exploring particular Indigenous beliefs and culture through Jared’s eyes, as he learns bit by bit about what he can see and about his family’s background (Jared is “part ‘Namgis, part Heiltsuk”). I would definitely describe Son of a Trickster as magical realism, in a way that I wouldn’t describe Monkey Beach. But Jared’s story is really about family relationships. The ‘magic’ is just a means to explore that topic. And I suppose that’s generally how you might describe magical realism (you could argue Monkey Beach is the same way), but I’m always hoping the magical elements will be more of a focus. Honestly, as I type this out, I can imagine someone who’s read this book being aghast and saying the magic plays a lot more significant role, but that’s how it felt to me. I have the impression that the next books in the trilogy will delve more into Jared’s family background and abilities. Son of a Trickster does have something of an introductory story line vibe to it.

To summarize, Son of a Trickster did not match my misguided expectations, but it is by no means a poor book. Here are some reasons you might enjoy it:

Jared is an engaging main character. I kept reading because I wanted to know what he would do next. He really is just a kid trying to make do with an awful situation. Like the description says, he “has an immense capacity for compassion”. Most of the adults around him are disasters, often causing me to grit my teeth and roll my eyes (ugh, his Mom). He’s not an angel, but despite his poor circumstances, Jared remains a good kid, guided by good intentions. There are some moving moments in the story where I found myself thinking, “Geez, he really is just a 16 year old kid” despite the partying, drinking, etc. he gets into. If you love reading about dysfunctional families – you will love this book.

My favourite strength of Robinson’s is her ability to created vivid and believable settings. She does an excellent job of translating her personal experience and knowledge of real world places onto the page. (Son of a Trickster is set in her hometown of Kitimaat, in northern British Columbia, with many scenes also taking place on the nearby reserve).

The book contains many specific cultural references, so much so that you can easily pin down the time period of the story. Examples include Idle No More protests, songs such as Red Skin Girl and Like A G6, and debates over the best Doctor in Doctor Who. The text message exchanges between Jared and various characters felt real, not constructed. Sometimes specific references irk me. In this case, I found they added realism to the story.

The Bottom Line: Overall, this book is a solid addition to the field of Indigenous literature. The representation of Indigenous youth like Jared and his friends is something the field could always use more of. The magical realism aspect of the story adds another layer of culture and intrigue to something that might read too bleak. Recommended for fans of Indigenous literature, dysfunctional families, or kids trying to do their best they know how. I’d also recommend this for teens -there’s a lot for them to enjoy here.

Son of a Trickster came across my Twitter feed one day and I knew I had to read it. I’m trying to read more books by Indigenous authors, and this one looked really good. Sure enough, it’s a smart and savvy novel that delivers great characters and dialogue, never compromising on its message while still remaining entertaining. Thanks to NetGalley and Knopf for providing me with an ARC.

Jared, like Eden Robinson herself, is Haisla and Heiltsuk and lives in Kitimat, British Columbia. When we first meet him, as a young boy, his parents are moving west—following work—and his maternal grandmother is being mean to him, claiming his father isn’t really his father but that he is instead Wee’git’s son, a trickster’s son. In contrast, Jared’s paternal grandmother showers him with affection and remains a source of support throughout much of the intervening years. Jumping ahead to when Jared is 16, the novel shows us a very different world: Jared lives with his mom, who wants him to have nothing to do with his father, though he is secretly giving money to his father and stepsister. He’s basically just trying to keep his head down, get through school, make enough money to help out his family, etc. But people, and other beings, keep getting in the way.

Son of a Trickster does not pull its punches when it comes to the bleakness of its situation. In many ways it reminds me of Lullabies for Little Criminals. In both cases, the protagonist lives in poverty with negligent parents. Jared has somewhat more agency than Baby did, a function of his age, gender, and particular circumstances: he is still in school, and at 16 he has started figuring out how to earn his own cash. But make no mistake: this is not a “feel good” novel of “redemption.” There is a lot of swearing and a lot of darkness. Jared seems inexorably to jump from frying pan to fire, and the cloying sheen of the “it gets better” after-school special is nowhere to be seen.

I love Jared as a character. He’s just so … 16, but that mature kind of 16 that crops up when you can’t rely on your parents. And he is just so good. He could easily embrace crime, start dealing drugs like Richie and his mom want him to, start carrying a gun and becoming a heavy … but he deliberately pushes that out of his life. He goes over to his next-door neighbour to shovel her drive and help her with chores. He works assiduously to earn enough money to help out his dad. Yes, he smokes pot and makes pot cookies for his largest source of income (he also has a paper route). But Robinson captures that paradox of being 16: you’re too old to be called a child but too young to be treated fully like an adult.

Jared is still in school, trying to survive Grade 10 in this book, and that’s kind of amazing given all the shit he has to deal with. Sometimes he has to take buses across town to give money to his stepsister to pay off his dad’s back rent … and still he tries to study and do his homework. Sure, he isn’t always successful—but when some kids would drop out, Jared perseveres. And note that I’m not trying to hold up Jared as some kind of anomaly among 16-year-olds—quite the opposite, in fact. I think many authors underestimate adolescents, but that isn’t the case here.

Nor is Jared pure. He has his share of flaws, makes his share of mistakes. He drinks, even blacks out, and then others have to fill him in on the poor choices he made (hello, viral videos). But there are also times he doesn’t black out, or times he doesn’t make the poorer choice, and Robinson shows us those too. The former are just as important as the latter, because it’s their contrast that makes him a worthwhile protagonist—and, in the end, it’s the choices that Jared makes to confront those past choices that makes him change and grow.

The setting helps to amplify Jared’s struggle for the reader. I’m quite harsh on Jared’s mom here, because I think she’s irresponsible in her parenting, but I am sympathetic to the challenges she faces as a single parent with no stable income. I’ve seen the effects of poverty on families, especially among First Nations youth in an urban environment. The conditions that Robinson depicts in Son of a Trickster are real. Nevertheless, I’ve been fortunate enough in my life never to experience poverty myself. I’ve never known the sensation of not knowing what I’m eating that same day, or lived under the sword of the utility company cutting my power. Jared’s precariousness is a constant presence in this novel, and Robinson represents it in a way that underscores its significance for readers who might otherwise be ignorant of its effects.

This is also an extremely tech and culturally savvy novel. It’s subtle, but by the end of the book I had really come to appreciate how Robinson weaves these elements throughout the book. Jared corresponds with several people via text or Facebook message; the later is his principal mode of communication with Nana Sophia. Robinson’s voice in these moments is very accurate; she captures the atmosphere created by these media. Also, I just love the nerdy references to shows like Doctor Who and Battlestar Galactica, most of which originate from a rez kid, George, who insists Jared start calling him by the “callsign” of Crashpad. Indigenous people, particularly Indigenous youth, are underrepresented as it is in literature—but when they do put in an appearance, there is a tendency to ground them almost exclusively in Indigenous iconography (and often generic or mistaken iconography at that). These stereotypes are so pervasive that our Prime Minister recently commented at a town hall that the youth he spoke with want “canoe storage” over rec centres with WiFi. (Insert audible eyerolling here.) Robinson combats this stereotype quite neatly here, for Crashpad might live on the reserve, but he and his friends are just as phone-obsessed, Internet binging, sci-fi watching as teenagers of any stripe.

When Haisla/Heiltsuk traditions and history are referenced, it’s because it relates to the plot or characters in some way. Jared learns a little bit about how his maternal grandmother’s experiences at residential school affected her. Several of the women in his life, from his mother to Nana Sophia to some others I won’t spoil, are “witches” with access to powers and spells; other characters share with Jared a heritage that is more-than-human. There’s a bit of an American Gods vibe happening here, although I recognize the latter is a pastiche of various religions and mythologies whereas this one is much more about Jared’s personal journey through the cultures that lay claim to him.

As I don’t have the cultural background necessary to critique how Robinson portrays these elements, I’m not going to go into much detail there. However, I wasn’t sold on the way she uses the firefly beings that Jared sees to try to syncretize the magic with quantum mechanics. Any time someone tries to use quantum mechanics as an excuse for magic, a little alarm bell labelled “what the bleep to we know” goes off in my brain. It’s not that I’m against attempts to explain magic in pseudoscientific ways—that can be fun, because this is, after all, fiction. Nevertheless, these kinds of attempts at equivalency tend to muddle what is already a muddy subject, because quantum mechanics is counter-intuitive and poorly explained, let alone understood. I think I get why Robinson did this, but I could have done without that entire element. Thankfully, it isn’t a huge part of the plot and is easy enough to ignore.

In addition to the tech/culture savviness, I love the subversive moments, like this one where Robinson has characters confront the gender binary. For all that I loved most of the dialogue, I actually only highlighted one passage in this book:

> “No, you don’t understand. I’m not regretting it. I’m saying I don’t believe in monogamy, but I don’t fall in the sack with just anyone. And I certainly don’t believe in gender the way you do, and you’ve made it clear that you find my ways ‘pervy.’”
> “What”? “I’m normally attracted to people willing to push heteronormative boundaries.”
> Jacob felt his eye twitching. “So you’re gay?”
> “There you go,” Sarah said. “Thinking in Western binaries again.”
> “So you’re not gay.” “It’s like talking to a wall,” Sarah said through gritted teeth. “Do you even listen to anything I say?”
> “But what does that mean? For us?”
> “It means you confuse the hell out of me. I’m frustrated.”
> “Well, that’s a big ditto.”
> “You’re so retro. How can I be with someone who still defines himself as strictly male?”
> “So you like chicks? Or guys … or both? Is that, like, the trans one or the bi?”
> Sarah stopped swinging her legs and coolly considered him. She hopped down. “You’re so not getting laid tonight.”

I’m so-so on Sarah as a character, but I like the romance/not-a-romance between her and Jared. Again, it feels a lot less contrived or stereotypical than how these kinds of relationships are so often portrayed in books featuring young adults.

As far as classifying this book, I suppose it might be called a “young adult novel”, though this is an example of how that label never really feels appropriate. This is a book adults should be reading, and a book that adolescents could read and enjoy too. Yes, there is sex and swearing and drugs and drinking in it. If you think your adolescent isn’t aware of these things among their peers and even participating in such things themselves, I have a pipeline I can sell to you.

I like the ending. I said before that this is not a novel of redemption, and I stand by that. This is a bleak book—but it’s bleakness with a hopeful ending. Like many such novels, it hits us hard and fast with so much that can go wrong in an adolescent’s life—and then it reminds us that there is always still hope. And I like that, for all that this book is about Jared’s potential link to a Trickster figure, the conclusion is ultimately about Jared becoming more of who he already is rather than trying to shape-shift his identity to match something he is not.

Son of a Trickster, then, is fantastic. I like its representation of an Indigenous teen (for what my opinion as a settler is worth), not that this is surprising considering its #ownvoices origin. Beyond this cultural dimension, though, I just love the book itself. The plot, setting, and characters all come together to deliver a breathtaking and beautiful book, and this is me holding my hand out saying, “Um, sequel please!”

Review will appear on Goodreads on Feb 10.