This was a hard one to read. A story of alcoholism and abandonment. I'm sure the author's story resonates with someone, I just wasn't the audience.

July was such a fun reading month (especially after a couple of months where reading felt like work). I cleared another few books off of my never-ending TBR (pats self on back) and finished off 2 series.

While books 4 and 5 were not great for me, I still think the #savagelandsseries is fun and the 🌶 is pretty great.

The #tricksterseries is unbelievably good and I can't recommend it enough. It is easily one of the best series I've ever read and the characters will stay with me for a long time.

My love of #hiromigoto continues with the reread of #halfworld
I was nervous to reread this book as I loved it so much the first time around but it held up and I even found some new elements that resonated more this time around. I am going to aim to get through all of her books before year end - next up is #darkestlight

Read This Now 🤯
* Return of the Trickster - Eden Robinson
* Half World - Hiromi Goto

Pretty Darn Good 😀
* Dog Flowers - Danielle Geller
* The Rogue Not Taken - Sarah MacLean
* Shadow Lands - Stacie Marie Brown

Sure 🙂
* The Memory Police - Yoko Ogawa
* Bad Lands - Stacie Marie Brown
* Blood Lands - Stacie Marie Brown

#readinginstead #bookstagram
#julywrapup #julyreadingwrapup
#dogflowers #theroguenottaken #returnofthetrickster #shadowlands

A sad, depressing chronicle of alcoholism and abandonment. There was so little hope here, I finally gave up about halfway through. I didn't find the story engaging or even interesting. I"m sure writing this was very cathartic for the author, but I thought the writing was rather unremarkable.

Danielle Geller, a bipolar biracial professor, puts her MFA in Creative Writing to use by retelling her family’s life as she sees fit. Her parents compose of a Native American mother, Lauren Pearl Lee, “born to the Tsi’naajinii, born for the Bilagáana”, and a (probably white) father, Michael Geller, whose origin or ancestry is not overtly mentioned. Both are poverty-stricken, free-spirited, usually jobless, sometimes homeless, drug and alcohol addicted, debauched and neglectful, absent, abusive parents to their two daughters, Danielle and Eileen. At one point, Lee was living with Geller’s brother, while Geller was involved with Lee’s friend Fran and everyone was playing happy foursome for the cameras. Lee had two more daughters with other men: Alexandra and Janelle, both also abandoned. She had a second marriage, also fluid in nature because of all the men who kept coming and going in between. Geller is similarly unable to hold on to a relationship. He has been in and out of jail for most of his life, if not for drunken disorderly behavior then for domestic violence. He is good with electronic / computer equipment and apps and does the cooking and the cleaning and the dishes when living with his mother. Lee took great care of old men dying of something or the other, in fact sought them out, but neither she nor he are more than mere passers-by for their children. When Lee dies, at a youthful middle age of 49, she’s sleeping in a park as a homeless woman and Father Geller was similarly without a permanent home and job.

Danielle, the author, ends up continuing her education, taking a responsible, traditional route, while her younger sister Eileen, who is also prettier, goes rogue, stripping and hitchhiking and being an absent mother herself. Last we hear about her, she’s in between jobs and boyfriends and jail, still struggling with drug addiction, sending random messages to her older sister, which alarmingly sound like SOSs.

Just reading through the level of dysfunction and instability made my skin crawl. You feel the state forgot about these people, and then are surprised to find how many state institutions and programs tried to help and manage the many problems of this family but the members never took those opportunities seriously. Even the author looks down upon the various counsellors / psychiatrists appointed for her mental health.

This is a tale of two unhappy daughters of very happy unstable people. These daughters have continued to feel empty, unloved and not good enough in adulthood and it shows. The desperation to connect to anyone or anything is palpabale. There’s a sensitivity and connectivity chip that’s missing in Danielle and Eileen. They don't come across as not nurturers.

And none of it is more apparent in how both girls treated their paternal grandmother, Evelyn, the only constant in their life who worked till old age and provided shelter, food and education and most importantly, a direction, to both girls (though Eileen was a problem child from the get go and grandmother couldn’t control her). I thought it the crime of the century that not a single photograph of hers is included in this memoir. Even her full name is not mentioned. That woman worked and took care of Danielle and Eileen and was the only rock in their lives, but when she got ill, none of them was around to take care of her or her needs.

You can be quick to judge, explain and forgive the actions of a neglected 20-something daughter when she finds out her mother, whom she hadn’t spoken to in 6 months or seen much of for decades, was not only homeless but in hospital and practically dead being kept alive by tubes. After all, as much as the author’s tactless, vengeful, resentful, and irresponsible behavior at the hospital appalled me, right down to the ashes bit, and beyond, it made sense.

But what both granddaughters do to their own paternal grandmother was beyond me.

(Small mention: there’s also an entire series of ex-boyfriends and female friends, who help the author in all of her crises, while she is never seen doing anything for anyone.)

At the end, when the author finds a stable man from Canada to settle down with (his whiteness or lack of it is not mentioned), gets married at a country club no less, she neither invites nor mentions any of her relatives (paternal or maternal), not even her grandmother. I would’ve thought that for one of the most important - and happiest - days of her life, she’d at least include in the book the reactions of her relatives, her father or grandmother, but she mentions nothing other than Eileen’s negative knee-jerk reaction. Her poor grandmother is neither talked about, spoken to nor visited after her hospital stay and diagnosis of dementia. The author just has a party in U.S. with her friends and runs away to live her Canadian Dream, taking the emotional baggage with her as well as zero gratitude. 


The cynic in me feels she ‘connected’ with her Native American relatives living on a reservation in Albuquerque, New Mexico just so that she could write about them in this book. In fact the blurb of the book pitches “A daughter returns home to the Navajo reservation to retrace her mother’s life” when in actuality Lee left that home thirty years ago at 19, and not much is mentioned or known of her life since. The author’s father’s family is apparently not exotic enough for her to investigate. The cynic in me feels that she contacted and went on a disastrous road trip with her mother’s third daughter just so she could write about it in this book (what interest would a teenager have in seeing the tenth place the mother who gave her up for adoption lived in?!). In fact, the author is put out by Alexandra’s normal attitude and healthy relationship with her adoptive mother. The cynic in me feels that poor Eileen’s miserable directionless life gets a mention in the last pages just as a mirror to the author’s own pristine existence as a University teacher living in an apartment in another country with free health insurance, two cats and one husband.

In fact, when she meets Lynda Teller Pete and Barbara Teller Ornelas, two weavers teaching a Navajo weaving workshop in Toronto, she’s quick to make them her grandmothers and become their granddaughter.

The real grandmother doesn’t even get a call, a card or a selvage cord. So long, Half Blood-Streaked-Wood People!

Thanks to the publisher for the ARC and all the best to the author, her sister, actual paternal grandmother, father and entire maternal and paternal clans.

Memorable Quotes / Lines:
pg. 97:
I followed him from the house into the backyard, where his roommate was using the edge of a shovel to scratch weeds from between the patio tiles.
“He’s starting the garden,” Dale said, gesturing to a row of potted plants. “We got some jalapeños, and some tomatoes, and”—he laughed, nodding at a small marijuana plant—“you know what that is.”
I smiled a smile that didn’t reach my eyes and walked to the edge of the patio. The would-be garden was an empty patch of dirt, baking in the sun. The dog dug deep furrows in the earth.
“He tracks that dirt all over the house,” Dale said, pointing at the trail of muddy paw prints that led through the back door. “Your mom used to call them ‘dog flowers.’ ”
I looked again at the mud blooming on the ground and tried very hard to see what my mother had seen.

pg. 136:
The hospice worker had given me a folder of information about their hospice program, an advertisement for cremation services, and pamphlets on death and dying. The pamphlets offered token pieces of end-of-life advice: that it is not unusual for your loved one to linger; that in order to let go, your loved one needs to know the people they are leaving behind will be okay; that it is important to say goodbye.
I was not convinced I believed in spirits, or that there was any presence in my mother’s body that understood what I might say. But I felt compelled to say something.
I scanned my mind for every movie or television cliché I could remember. “It’s okay to let go,” I began, self-consciously keeping my eye on the hallway. “I know you loved me, and Eileen. I know you did your best.”
But even as I said the words, I doubted them. Why should I tell my mother what I thought she wanted to hear?
“I’m glad I’m the one here,” I said, lowering my voice. I let the air I had been holding in the deepest part of my lungs out, in one foul breath. “I never told you what I meant to say. I never did anything because of you, only despite you. I am nothing like you, and I’m grateful for it.”
I waited. I wasn’t sure what I was waiting for. There was no sign—no sudden twitch of her lips, no holy corona, no voice from above—to make me believe anyone or anything had heard me. I didn’t feel unburdened, only vindictive and cruel.
“I’ll be okay,” I sighed, finally. “You should go.” But I knew the machines and the drugs were holding her there, and the decision could not be made by her body alone.

pg. 209:
I drove around my old neighborhoods, searching for evidence of past lives.

pg. 236:
I heard about a Navajo weaving workshop that would be taught by Lynda Teller Pete and Barbara Teller Ornelas in Toronto.
…..I listened closely as they introduced themselves in Navajo; I recognized my grandfather’s clan.
“My grandfather’s clan was Tábąąhá, too,” I said, when it came time to introduce myself.
Lynda gasped and clapped her hands. “We’re nálís!” Grandmothers, she said excitedly, in the Navajo way.
……..We cut our cords one by one, their hands guiding ours. When it was my turn, they called me “granddaughter,” as if welcoming me into their family.

pg. 237:
At the end of the last day, they held a special ceremony to trim our rugs’ selvage cords, the braided threads that look like tassels at a rug’s four corners. They told us the selvage cords were like the rug’s umbilical cord, and that, traditionally, Navajos bury a baby’s umbilical cord in the earth, so their children will always recognize home………I considered bringing them with me to Tucson the next time I visited, to pat beneath the sand, but then I remembered the new home I was trying to build. It was difficult for me to believe a few bits of string could make a place feel like home, but when I returned to the apartment my husband and I shared, I folded the ends of my selvage cords inside the handkerchief my mother-in-law gave me, which I placed inside my mother’s carved brown bowl.

A well written memoir about a woman's difficult family life. The subject matter is challenging, but it is told with a great deal of compassion and care. I'm thankful for Danielle Geller sharing her story of heart break and hope.
I received a copy of this book from NetGalley.

Dog Flowers was a hard read, not only in the way it was written (heartbreaking), but in the events that Geller captures here from her life. The passages about her mother especially hit hard - with her writing lending emotion to the complex and loving relationship that she had with her mom, a complex and loving woman. The way Geller pieces together her life - her father’s alcoholism and moods, her mother’s alcoholism and life before her sisters and her were born, her grandmother and the many different people her and her sisters lived with growing up, her half siblings and the feelings they made her have after their mom gave them up, her sister’s trauma and drinking stemming from both, Geller’s own battle with her mental illness and her own trauma - makes for a harrowing read. The way Geller intersperses photos and letters of her moms into the text was also a wonderful choice - the way she was able to use her librarian skills to sift through her mom’s things, and find a fractured sense of peace around how her mother impacted her, made me emotional. This book has power, so much power, bleeding through its words - the power of family, of how you can love them so much even as their problems slowly seep into every corner of your life. This was an achingly beautiful memoir - I appreciate Danielle Geller’s writing so much, and some of these passages I think will stick with me forever. I’m so excited to read more of her words.

I received an advanced copy of this book from the publisher through netgalley in exchange for an honest review. This book is well written and the characters are described well. TRIGGER WARNING ALCOHOL/ DRUG ABUSE, RAPE, PHYSICAL ABUSE, and CHILD ABUSE. This book is set in Florida and Pennsylvania. I did enjoy this book. Would I recommend reading this nonfiction book to anyone and everyone, yes I would. This book is in stores for $27.00 (USD).

Upon her mother’s death from alcohol withdrawal Danielle is forced to face her childhood abandonment and sort through the remnants of her life. She packs a suitcase full of old photos and journals and travels to the Navajo reservation to confront her family history. While I did enjoy reading this memoir it felt at times like a series of unedited diary entries and seemed to end abruptly. 3 stars.

#DogFlowers by Daniel Gellar is a memoir providing a unfiltered look into her family and upbringing. It particularly speaks to the #NativeAmerican experience from the perspective of outside of reservations. In the telling we get only glimpses of her ties to her ancestry as she herself learned them. The book deals with the impact of alcoholism and Drug abuse and the impact it causes on those connected. It is another example of rising above circumstances as well. I enjoyed the writing and look forward to more from the author. Thank you to #Netgalley for an advance copy that I took too long to get to.

Dog Flowers - peculiar name, peculiar book.
I can't honestly say that I enjoyed reading this book. But, I didn't put it down. I had to finish it.
It gave you a peek into life on a reservation. Perhaps it is not the whole story of life on a reservation, but it was more than enough.
While its the story of her mother's life (told in flashbacks, of course), its also the story of Danielle's life as well.
Addiction plays a big role.
Overall, I found the book sad both while I was reading it as well as when I had finished it.

I could not put this book down! So many heart breaking and frustrating moments in the author's memoir but I loved her tenacity and willingness to not give in or give up. My only complaint is that this book seemed to end abruptly. Other than that, well written and inspiring.

After Danielle Geller’s mother dies, Geller begins archiving her mother’s documents in an attempt to understand her family’s history. The ghost of her mother echoes as Geller’s life continues on, including her sister and father’s persistent cycles of violence and addiction. As Geller gets to know her mother’s family on the Navajo reservation, and attempts to forge a life for herself, these difficult relationships frequently pull her back into her nuclear family even as she attempts to distance herself. I am grateful to have been able to hear Geller’s story.

While discussing her childhood, Geller’s writing style felt nostalgic and descriptive:
“I can’t remember the ride home or what was said. I am left only with the impression of winding roads and open fields and the moon’s white light shining inside the car.”
I thought the inclusion of her mother’s quotes through footnotes was haunting and original.

But as we moved into Danielle’s life in college and beyond, the narrative style changed significantly, and the pacing became more confusing. At times, I felt like we were rushing through important events without getting much detail about them. At other times, we would slowly meander through conversations that had no larger purpose within the narrative, with Geller presenting disparate events without clear connections. It might be that this was just more realistic to the way she recalls events in her life, or due to the grieving process, but I also have to wonder if a lot of it could’ve been improved with additional editing. In general, I prefer a more introspective memoir, and the last ~30% of this diary-like recounting of events was a struggle for me to get through.

TW: Alcoholism, sexual abuse, incest, physical abuse, suicide attempt

It took so long for me to finish this book. It wasn’t bad or uninteresting, it was just incredibly sad and emotionally draining. I’m glad I read it but I don’t think I could recommend it.

I really enjoyed this book! This book was generously provided to me through NetGalley. Highly Recommended!

Some memoirs, especially those depicting difficult childhoods are by their nature difficult to read. This was not easy to read right from the first pages, and if you find the first pages of this as gut wrenching as I did, be prepared. When Geller goes back in time piecing together her mother’s life, recounting her own life, her father’s alcoholism and imprisonments, her sister’s alcoholism and imprisonments, her own mental health issues, her struggle to get through it all, it gets worse, much worse. Geller comes from a dysfunctional family and had such a sad childhood, as she and her sister are abandoned by her alcoholic mother and live with their alcoholic father, until their grandmother gets custody of her at five and and her sister at three. Disappointment after disappointment, from one home to another, these sisters had an unstable life to say the least. This is an alcoholic family- her mother, her father, her younger sister, her grandmother, though fortunately recovering and saving Danielle and her sister Eileen at various times in their lives . This felt repetitive at times, not because she told the same stories of her family, but because the same things happened over and again. Geller narrative is interspersed with the photographs, cards, drawings, diary entries that her mother kept. A heartbreaking, but hopeful story about how she moves herself forward by using her skills as a librarian to catalog her mother’s things, by going back to her mother’s roots on the reservation, finding more of her mother and herself.


I received a copy of this book from One World through NetGalley.

Geller writes sparsely, yet intimately about trauma, family and grief. I admire her honesty and reflection on such difficult topics.

I always like reading memoirs. I feel it's a genre that allows for freedom to tell one's own story, one's own truth. It may diverge from the story, truth of others in the story, however this divergence does not make the story untrue. Danielle tells stories of the past, of her growing up in different households and trying to find her way. The telling of the heartbreak of trying to hold together relationships with an alcoholic father and drug-addicted sister. She learns how to be herself and live her life and to build healthy boundaries for herself.

This is a very tough memoir to read. If you’ve survived trauma, of pretty much any kind, this could be very triggering.

I picked this book from Net Galley, wanting to learn more about the Navajo Nation, especially in nonfiction form (but also nonfiction is my jam). And while I learned a bit about Navajo Nation, it wasn’t what I expected! Most of the story doesn’t take place on a reservation, but Navajo cultural and lifestyle aspects are woven into the story.

Geller’s tale was an absolute cry for help. She shows her soul telling bits from her childhood, into her teenage years, and adulthood. She does jump around quite a bit, so I couldn’t tell what was memory or what you’d consider present day, if that’s what she was trying to convey. She includes references about growing up as a minority, her dysfunctional family, and what it’s like being the glue for her family.

Her mother passed away, her father is an alcohol, and her sister is addicted to drugs. She very much had me in my feelings wanting to give her a big hug, because being the glue of your family is such a tough task. I was super invested.

Despite the sad stories, she includes photographs and letters from happier times in her life, reminding her where she came from and guiding her to who she wants to be.

Content warnings: death of a parent, abuse, alcoholism, bullying, drugs, addition, racism.

Dog Flowers was such a beautiful and important read. My greatest thanks to the publisher for this review copy.

Dog Flowers is a well-written memoir where Geller tells deep, raw recollections of her life experiences. I look forward to reading other books by Danielle Geller. Many thanks to the publisher for a copy of this book in exchange for my opinion.