Noopiming - Leanne Betasamosake Simpson ⭐⭐⭐⭐
Noopiming is Anishinaabemowin for “in the bush,” and the title is a response to English Canadian settler and author Susanna Moodie’s 1852 memoir Roughing It in the Bush. To read Simpson’s work is an act of decolonization, degentrification, and willful resistance.

Beautiful, poetic, and thought-provoking. Reader, be warned: to enjoy this novel as it was intended, one must remain open and willing to do the work of understanding. Thank you, Leanne Betasamosake Simpson for continuing to share your storytelling with the world.

I think this is such an underrated book. I wish I had had a hard copy to post about on social media. It is moving and a must read.

<blockquote><i><b>"Some stories are just stories, and some stories are just facts, facts so important that story can't mess with them."</b></i></blockquote>

<b>Noopiming</b> (Anishinaabemowin for "in the bush") is poetry converging on storytelling revealing itself as fact. It opens with a poem that introduces the seven characters. The number 7 is significant and is reiterated throughout the text. It represents the seven Ojibwe tribes and the seven Asishinaabe teachings of love, respect, honesty, bravery, humility, truth, and wisdom.

<img src="https://www.southernnetwork.org/files/seven-teachings-southern-network-1.jpg"/>

Every character was referred to as they/them. At first I struggled with this. There were times where I did not know where one individual ended or the other began. The characters take on properties of the life forms around them. They are infused with the earth and water and spirits. I wasn't sure if Betasamosake Simpson was playing on gender roles. But then as I got further on in the book I noticed that outsiders were referred to he/him and she/her. Perhaps we place too much emphasis on gender? But this was not what Betasamosake Simpson was getting at. When I stopped trying to force the narrative to fit my experience it became obvious. They/them was used as our characters were part of a herd or flock. This is not just to say that they are one with nature, but that as a group they move as one. Indigenous culture places the needs of the whole over the wants of the individual. My biases and Western mentality were the root of my struggles.

Throughout the text there are Anishinaabemowin words. For the most part Betasamosake Simpson does not give you the exact definition. You have to use the sentence or phrase for context. She also does not italicize or otherwise dinstinguish these words from the English. And I love her for it. If you are reading more diversely to learn about different cultures, then dive into the culture. Embrace the language. Open your mind to perspectives that are different from your own.

<b>Noopiming</b> ends with seven lessons told as both lecture and story. The take away is Weweni - be mindful. Think before you speak and act. Direct your attention to the whole. Consider whether your impact be something positive, uplifting, sustaining. Think beyond yourself.

there's so little hand holding here for the non-Native reader and I loved it. I needed to reference what both Simpson and the blurb suggested as what each character was an allegory for regularly yet I really enjoyed the flow of the story! It was deceptively complex because underneath it all was a simple story of life-individuals grappling with history, culture while still going about the everyday. Also, loved that every character was nonbinary

I enjoyed this book. It was not written for me and so I did A LOT of extra reading while I read it. Concepts and terms I wanted to understand the book and what was being said. I thought it was so beautiful and sad. But a powerful piece of work. I highly recommend this book and I HIGHLY recommend people read the interviews, own voice reviews as well as look up terms and translations to fully appreciate it and understand it

Author Leanne Betasamosake Simpson challenges readers like no other modern-day write I have ever encountered. This book already feels like shots are fired just by the subtitle, but then you open the book and see that the usual paragraph-after-paragraph form of book that we are all used to is not used. Yes, sometimes there is the familiar prose, other times the story goes into a more poetic verse and stanza form. It's almost like Simpson is daring you to keep reading. Then, the narrator is basically broken down into various parts of their psyche, each one challenging the world we live in and asking you in their own way to reconsider how we live and what we think we know. It's a challenge worth taking, though you may occasionally need to take breaks to either ponder or just catch your breath. It is worth taking this challenge.

When I started this book, I was confused. What was going on? It was as if I were peering over a fence into the neighbors' yard while they were having a family reunion. At first, I couldn't understand what they were saying. As I kept peering, as I kept reading, I began to find the connections between those reuniting. I began to see the relationships and understand how they spoke to one another. And I fell in love. I fell in love with the characters in this novel that's unlike any other, its narrative circular and poetic and revealed in shards of detail, of sharply observed imagery reflecting Anishinaabe life and traditions amid colonialism. I was no longer peering over a fence. I was frozen in suspension with Mashkawaji, as they introduced me through fragments to this world within our world and to these characters, among them a maple tree, a caribou, and a flock of geese. This book was not written for me, it was written for those at the reunion. I loved it all the same.

Leanne Betasamosake Simpson is such a good writer that when I think about her books I start to get lightheaded trying to describe them, but I perfectly understand every concept she lays out for me. For example in this book she describes a series of lectures given by geese. She doesn't exactly say, "These are geese, and they are talking to geese, about geese," but I understood by the second paragraph that this section of her book was exactly that. And I could see it happening perfectly based on my own brief observations of geese gathering at the Bosque. And I was so eager to see what the geese would say, and I found myself nodding along as they complained, and rolling my eyes when they argued, and I was as passionate about the lectures of the geese as I was about the opinions of the human podcasters I listen to.

This is the genius of Leanne Betasamosake Simpson.

Noopiming is a novel, but it's not like any novel you've come across. It's about a being who may or may not be our earth mother. Or who may or may not be the collective of missing and murdered Indigenous women. Or who may or may not be the collective apathy of white women. This being is sustained by several characters throughout the book, including Ninaatig, the tree, and Adik the deer (they're actually referred to as caribou in the story, but I didn't realize this until I got to the end, and as a Pueblo woman I was picturing Adik as a deer). The being is gathering itself for the possible end, or possible beginning of something, through the point of view of all the characters. That's the best way I can describe this. It sounds screwy, and if you're looking for a regular story, with a regular plot this is not it, but you should read it anyway, and reconsider what you think of as stories and plots. And this story is beautiful. Looked at in pieces it is amusing, and sweet to hear about the adventures of characters like Akiwenzii and Mindimooyenh. Looked at as a whole it is a haunting story of survival, and carrying on in spite of a shifting world. Read it one paragraph at a time, or out of order. Read it through once, then turn to the beginning and read the whole thing again. Read it backwards. Skip parts if you have to, but be sure to come back to them. This book is like a mirror broken into pieces. Leanne Betasamosake Simpson put the pieces together in one way, and it's genius, but as the reader you can put the mirror back together any way you like, and the end result will be beautiful.

Such is the power of great writing. Such is the power of Native storytellers.

This is a stunning novel that veers into prose poetry (and straight-up poetry sometimes). For someone like me (a white lady) not familiar with Anishinaabe beliefs, culture, and languages, this book can be difficult to follow sometimes, and it unapologetically provides practically no hand-holding for outsiders. This is part of what makes it so great, and it's still fairly easy to follow--or at least interpret--some of the more abstract or fantastical elements of the novel. I particularly loved the sections fashioned around the points-of-view of a geese, raccoons, elk, and a tree. This is the kind of book that took me longer to read than its short page length would suggest, but that time is so worthwhile.

The writing is beautiful here, and the sense of place is haunting and evocative. Although it's told through fragments, the characters are strong and authentic, and there are touches of unexpected humour which brought it to life. I did make the error of putting this to one side for a few weeks over Christmas and found it very hard to get back into, but that's my own error, not the book's!

I really enjoyed reading this book - it was very different from the stories I usually read. The language is beautiful and difficult for me because I honestly didn't have enough cultural knowledge. That was also what I enjoyed about Noopiming, that it was like a window into a culture that I am unfamiliar with.

Leanne Betasamosake Simpson has such beautiful, poetic writing. This is not just simply a story, this life in poetry. As a non-Indigenous person, I found it difficult to understand some of the words, but I knew that going into it. I looked up pronunciations to better understand as I was reading. I will be listening to an audiobook if I’ve becomes available because I would love to hear these words spoken. (4.5 stars)

Review copy provided by the publisher.

There is a tendency among speculative writers and readers to use "literary fiction" to mean mimetic fiction, to mean "anything that isn't us or maybe, maybe romance or mystery." But Noopiming genuinely is a literary work, experimental and varied in its form, swerving from prose frament to poetry as the work requires. It's very short--I'd estimate about novella length--but so intense that it's still messing with my head a day later.

Noopiming is about a being called Mashkawaji, who is frozen in ice and experiencing the modern world through a host of other characters, human/tree/caribou/goose. The humanity of some of the characters is fluid, blending into other species and entities, ways of thought and modes of being. This is not genre fantasy but rather a piece about an interconnected multispecies community in Toronto and environs, figuring out ways to be all right, to heal and connect and learn.

It is honestly not like anything else I've read, and you know I read a lot. Fascinating, brief, vivid.

Imagine a tale more circular than linear, more poetic than prosaic, populated more by natural than merely human actors, and speaking from and for the earth of northern Minnesota, and you have entered into the universe of NOOPIMING. It's a trip that can and should alter the way you experience and embrace the natural world you are only a part of.

The writing here is beautiful with unexpected humor interspersed. But, overall, the purposeful disjointed narrative just didn’t work for me.

A gorgeous book. I don't feel qualified to talk about the subject matter; this is a book that does not condescend the community it writes about by overwriting for an outside audience. The vignettes are the perfect length and leave the reader with a lot to ponder.

My anticipation and expectations were really high when I sat down to read my Netgalley copy.  The book met all of the above, was wonderful, and offered a very novel reading experience.

I admit I was nervous also because I'd read Goodreads reviews saying the book was confusing and nonlinear and blah blah blah. I wanted to think I would not feel like those narrow minded reviewers. But what if I didn't know what was going on?

Hint - it doesn't matter! And yes, I knew enough of what was going on to love the book. It's imaginative and thought-provoking. I had just read Birdie and there are definitely differences between the two books, but Birdie was a good warmup for reading in a "go with the flow and don't question it!" style.

Reading books by Indigenous authors is a good step towards decolonizing my bookshelf, but I think that immersing myself in these books that are truly turning the colonizers' ideas of fiction, prose, and storytelling on its head is a further step and very important. 

So - I have been thinking about how to write this review for about two weeks. The author brings in so many things effortlessly - multiple characters, geese, raccoons, laugh aloud humor, immigration policy, Palestine, survival, love, empathy... I could go on. I decided I'm just going to share some quotes that I loved.
"I ask what that bailer twine is for and they say it’s for me to make sweat lodges. There is enough for the next seven generations to make sweat lodges and the smell of mould hits me as I take the spool out of the truck. I ask what the five-foot-tall faded Santa is for. They say “target practice” and add “because you have the worst aim of anyone I’ve ever tried to teach.” I do not ask about the frying pans." (First time I laughed aloud. I realized that being surprised that there was humor in such an intense and beautiful book was an example of my preconceived notions about what Indigenous literature had to be.)

"Mandaminaakoog cannot imagine life without the task of one’s existence being dependent upon continual remembering."

And the raccoons. Talk about creativity in adaptation. The people were trying to keep the raccoons out of their yard by buying a raccoon sprayer/ hose thing.  And yet,

"Esiban could not believe their eyes. Now the pièce de résistance had a new pièce de résistance and it was a fountain. Glorious."

Incredible book that seems to stop time. Leanne Betasamosake Simpson writes both outside and inside conventions, moving character to character, each voice symbolizing a different element and different strength in the body of the community. In the voices of Asin and Lucy we see the recognizable pressures of modern life and questions of social progress with a marked distance that Simpson uses to deftly critique the lack of thoughtfulness in our society. The voices of Ninaatig and Mindimooneyh are vignettes dripping in important imagery and life lessons. This is a book I don’t have a full grasp on, and yet I’m thankful for that because there is so much to learn from it.

This book is pure literary art and it’s beautiful. This is my first time reading Anishinaabe literature and the storytelling really challenged my perceptions on how stories should be told.

In this dreamlike story, Mashkawaji is frozen under a lake as they tell a story of the seven characters that represent different parts of them. These seven characters represents their will, lungs, conscience, marrow, nervous system, and eyes, ears and brain. It sounds trippy to tell a story of different parts of one being, but I attribute this to what I perceive as conventional. It’s a bit hard to get into, but once again, it is a different storytelling style that I’m unfamiliar with. You don’t need to understand all of it to realize that the writing itself flows poetically and beautifully. As you read on, you’ll see it come together as a story built off the Anishinaabe traditions, heritage, into a powerful story of resistance and decolonization.

This is honestly a book I could see being taught as in a university literature class. There’s a lot to unpack and I feel like I could benefit from learning about the Anishinaabe traditions and history to understand this book better. Reading this made me wonder why I was never taught to read Indigenous literature despite attending a Canadian university. What makes the Eurocentric literature I read more “Canadian” than this? Why was my education another form of whitewashing the land the Canadian institution sits on. Why is this and other Indigenous literature not mandatory reading? Anyways, this is just my train of thought I had as I read this, because this is truly a literary masterpiece, and I think it would do well for readers to sit with it and study it to fully understand it, myself included.