The most recommended books about American Indians

Out of the feminist movement in American archaeology came this thick testament to the number and importance of women archaeologists and ethnographers who worked in the American Southwest before the U.S. Civil Rights Act made discrimination illegal. As a woman who had been ignored and even brutally put down by men archaeologists, reading of these hardworking, persistent, and some of them brilliant women thrilled me. Over and above the revelations of great researchers who often collaborated with First Nations people, the book is a treasure of stories about pioneer conditions in the Southwest, discoveries of famous ruins, and early anthropologists breaking through into native communities.  

Calloway has written a series of important books about the Great Lakes frontier, but this is a kind of capstone to his distinguished career. Building on Wiley Sword’s groundbreaking book, George Washington’s Indian Wars, Calloway discusses in detail the often overlooked importance of Indian affairs during the Washington administration. None of Washington’s biographers have adequately researched Washington’s frontier policy, which led to a horrific war for the Old Northwest (it’s almost the equivalent of discussing the LBJ presidency while leaving out the Vietnam War!). What Washington and Henry Knox, his secretary of war, thought they were doing and what was actually happening on the ground were appallingly at odds. Thanks to Calloway, this crucial dimension of the Washington administration can no longer be ignored.  

Finally, Henry Spelman gets his own book! There is no shortage of Jamestown literature on John Smith, Pocahontas, John Rolfe, and Chief Powhatan, but Karen Ordahl Kupperman’s Relation of Virginia: A Boy’s Memoir of Life with the Powhatans and the Patawomecks offers the intriguing account of Henry Spelman, a 14-year-old English boy sent to live with the Chesapeake Algonquians during highly volatile times between Virginia’s indigenous population and the Jamestown colonists. 

I find this book particularly compelling for multiple reasons: it reverses traditional narrative roles and details a member of colonial society who was placed in servitude to the Indigenous population, it was one of very few examples of first-hand historical testimony from an adolescent (none survive from 1580's Roanoke, and only Alonso de Olmos offered an eyewitness account of the annihilation of the Ajacan Jesuits in 1570), and it has often been glossed over by Jamestown scholars.

An amazing play that explores the repercussions of Residential schools on the Indigenous population, and how its effects are frequently intergenerational. Winner of Canada’s Governor General’s Award for Best Drama, this play spares no one as it sheds light on the damage and healing happening in Indigenous communities across the country. 

The Lance and the Shield is a model biography of a native leader; in this case, one of the most storied figures in American Indian history. Utley immerses the reader in Lakota (Sioux) culture and evokes all the pathos of the enigmatic Sitting Bull’s struggle to preserve the Plains Indian way of life. Utley is the dean of Western Historians, and all his books are well worth reading.

The 1895 Cotton States and International Exposition, a seminal moment in Atlanta’s history, is best remembered as the setting for Booker T. Washington’s opening day address in which he suggested that the races could be “as separate as the fingers” in “all things social.” Theda Perdue considers the white supremacist attitudes of the fair’s organizers and the ways in which people of color were represented. The designated Negro Building allowed Black educators and artists to showcase their accomplishments in a segregated setting, but exhibits about Native Americans by the Smithsonian and Office of Indian Affairs treated them as ancient cultures of the past and not as vibrant cultures of the present.

I have always enjoyed poetry and this book introduces simple couplets to children while telling a sweet story of loving Asian parents who welcome a new child. Geared to very young children, the artwork can tell the story without someone reading it to them, but the lyrical words just add to the beauty of the message. 

From the Deep Woods is a book about the author’s spiritual and intellectual journey through his life in the late 19th and early 20th century. Charles Eastmen was a Native American who received a college education on the east coast and eventually became a doctor working on reservations in the Midwest.

I was fascinated by this book, but it also made me a little sad. Eastman’s commentary on the American society of his time was incredibly wise and insightful. However, much of Eastman’s critiques and observations would be just as poignant and just as relevant today as when this book was first written in the early 20th century.   

We highly recommend this capacious “counter-archive” of Native writing because it definitively lays to rest the myth of the “vanishing Indian.” Covering more than four centuries, it includes work from ten tribal nations from Maine to Connecticut in the form of early political petitions and land deeds to contemporary poetry and blogs. We love that its editor, a non-Native scholar, drew on the expertise of eleven Native editors from tribal communities for its diverse content, sourced from oral narratives, manuscripts stored in garages, and passed-around bootlegged copies. We also love that the book inspired a website for the extra material and for new work being produced now. In this sense, the website is a living document that illuminates the long history and vibrant presence of Indigenous writing.

To grasp an understanding of the history of archaeological erasure of Pleistocene archaeological sites, Indigenous history, and the colonial history of American archaeology, Red Earth, White Lies is a must-read. Deloria has a delightful sense of humour and does not mince words regarding the absurdity of the Clovis First hypotheses. Written from an informed Indigenous perspective, this book will provide an understanding of the one question I always hear, “Why would archaeologists deny earlier than Clovis sites?"