Her recent book, Plague of Doves, was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize. In the 80s and 90s, she was married to Michael Dorris, also an acclaimed Native American author. They collaborated on many of their works and were celebrated as the quintessential artistic couple. In the late nineties, Dorris was accused of abusing their adopted children, and in the midst of a divorce, he committed suicide. Erdich has never publicly spoken about these events (as I'm sure none of us would.) Theories, however, abound.
In Shadow Tag, it would be preposterous for someone to read it as truth. It would also be difficult to believe she didn't use any of her real life experiences, either. It's a soul wrenching book, for sure.
Irene America is married to the man who paints "iconic" pictures of her. She is used as a symbol of the subjugation of a people. She is shown in multiple poses, being raped, being tortured, etc. In turn, she has been exploited by her creator. Nothing is hers only. Not even her thoughts.
When her husband begins to read her diary, robbing her of any vestige of individuality, she avenges herself by purposely having two diaries: one for the truth, and one filled with lies to drive her husband crazy. Caught in the whirlwind of deception and a terribly twisted relationship are the children, who are pinned between an alcoholic mother and an abusive father. Irene, however, cannot escape the hold he has on her. She stays out of fear, but also an all-consuming misplaced responsibility for his mental well-being.
It's the classic codependent relationship. That they are survivors of a dying world is one of the strongest binding forces. Erdich draws a startingly full color depiction of both of these flawed people: each is both victim and perpetrator, each is both sadist and masochist.
Erdich is a master of knowing what to say, and what to leave out. But this novel isn't for everyone; there are scenes in here that will break you in two.
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This is a short review I wrote for Shelfari a year or so ago, when I first read the novel, and before I started reviewing on my site. Erdich is one of those writers that you can't help but set apart from almost everyone else. She belongs with the living greats, like Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Julian Barnes.
I was first introduced to Erdich when I read her husband's Yellow Raft, Blue Water my senior year in high school. It was the summer I turned 17, my grandmother was dying, and the story seemed to be written just for me. It explored the ties that bind us with our mothers, and their mothers, and the way that words said and left unsaid continue to haunt these relationships. I was left amazed that a man could have written this.
Later, I realized that Louise Erdich had heavily contributed to this novel. It all made a little more sense. In 1997, when I heard of Michael Dorris's death, I also read about the allegations concerning molestation. I immediately went back in my head to a scene where a pedophile tries making a move on Rayona. Was this a glimpse of the demons inside his head? He would assert that the (adoptive) children who made this accusation were damaged because they were the product of fetal alchol syndrome.
If you've never read a Louise Erdich title, go out and buy one. Today. Start with a short story, if you must. It would be a wonderful glimpse into the power of her prose.
