A while back, I wrote a Books at Bedtime  blog post about a book called Shin-chi’s Canoe by Nicola Campbell.  This book was about a young aboriginal boy who is taken away from his family to go to a residential school.  The history of residential schools in Canada is long and painful.  The impact of this education on young vulnerable aboriginal children was devastating and continues to affect many of the survivors today.  The Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada was formed by the Canadian government to address the situation.  Its mandate is to learn about what happened in the residential schools and to inform all Canadians about the schools and their impact on aboriginals in Canada.

The Commission will enact its mandate through various national events, one of which has begun here in my hometown of Winnipeg.  Tonight, aboriginal authors and storytellers will gather to talk about the residential school experience in an evening of readings and discussion called “Writing Truth, Imagining Reconciliation.”  Although the event is not so much for children as about them under a particular and alienating system of education, it is of relevance to anyone who seeks to acknowledge and redress one of Canada’s historical wrongs.  For its part, PaperTigers has highlighted the Canadian First Nations community and its writings in its April-May 2010 issue.  Do check it out!

Established in 1978, Groundwood Books is a small children’s book publisher, associated with House of Anansi Press, that specializes in Canadian authored books (with a special interest in books by First Nations authors), bilingual books in English and Spanish, translations from around the world, and a non-fiction line aimed at young adults. Their catalog features a long list of award-winning titles that reflect individual experiences and are of universal interest.

Patricia (Patsy) Aldana, founder and publisher of Groundwood Books (and president of IBBY, the International Board on Book for Young Readers, since 1997), answered our questions about My Little Round Rouse, one of the seven titles selected for inclusion in our Spirit of PaperTigers Book Set Donation Project; her commitment to publishing books by First Nations authors; the multicultural titles on their Fall list, and more.

In our series of interviews with the publishers of the books selected for our Spirit of PaperTigers project, I normally start by asking how the book in question came about as a project for the publisher. Since we already know the answer to this question in relation to My Little Round House, both from our interview with author Bolormaa Baasansuren and from translator Helen Mixter’s article, My Little Round House: The Journey of a Picture Book from Mongolia to Canada, we’ll start by asking…

PT: What in particular attracted you to My Little Round House?

PA: I thought it was a really special book about people whose lives are very different from ours. I also thought it was a very unique look at a baby’s life, a life that despite being nomadic seemed wonderfully cosy and safe.

PT: The books you publish often tell the stories of people whose voices are underrepresented. What first motivated you to start on this path and how do you manage to stay true to your mission?

PA: Being a Guatemalan, I guess that seeing the world through the eyes of the marginal has always come naturally to me. There are so many books published from and for the mainstream that, for me, focusing on underrepresented authors and illustrators was one way to justify being a publisher. As a small Canadian house, this focus has also been a way for us to distinguish ourselves from the huge multi-nationals with whom we have to compete.

PT: How did the decision to stop selling rights to the American market and to start publishing your books in the US come about?

PA: As US publishing changed from the editor-driven houses that I first came to know (Margaret K McElderry, Dorothy Briley, Susan Hirschman, Phyllis Fogelman, etc.), it became harder and harder to sell rights to our books in the US. At the same time Canada began to cut funding to school libraries and as a result (more…)

Tonight I read Shin-chi’s Canoe by Nicola Campbell, illustrated by Kim LaFave to my daughter.  The story is a follow-up to Campbell’s earlier book Shi-shi-etko which narrates the story of a young aboriginal girl, Shi-shi-etko, as she is separated from her family at the age of six to attend a residential school.  In Shin-chi’s Canoe, Campbell returns to the same family but now it is time for Shi-shi-etko’s brother, Shin-chi to go to the same school with his sister.  Shin-chi is given a little carved canoe as a parting gift from his father and the boat will serve as a reminder during the cold cruel months ahead of a request Shin-chi has made of his father: namely, to build a dugout canoe for him when he returns home at the beginning of summer.

When this book arrived at our house, my daughter was immediately taken by it.  She and her classmates were all building boats to be launched at a nearby creek.  Can I show this book to my teacher?  She asked right away.  But we haven’t read it yet, I said.  We’ll read it tonight, I promise. At bedtime we curled up into bed and read Shin-Chi’s Canoe.  My daughter remained silent through the reading and at the end, she made a comment that struck me.  While I concentrated mostly on the social injustice of the aboriginal residential school experience, my daughter remembered instead the request Shin-chi made of his father, namely, the promise that he would have his own canoe by the end of that first year away at school.  See, his Daddy’s making the canoe just like Shin-chi asked, my daughter said.  Quite frankly, caught up as I was with the bigger social issue presented by the book, I had forgotten that simple request. I was amazed and humbled by my daughter’s observation. Truly, children have their own unique perspective.  That is why reading to them at bedtime can be so hugely rewarding.

Incidentally, November is National American Indian Heritage Month in the United States.  The story of Shin-chi and Shi-shi-etko is a great way to start educating young people about the history of aboriginal children’s lives in North America.