The Storyteller Trilogy (191 page)

Even now, as an adult, when I walk into a bookstore or hold a book in my hands, I sense the magic. It dances in my head, lifts my heart, and slips the silver shoes on my feet!

I’m sure my readers have come to realize that
The Storyteller Trilogy
is a series of stories within a story, and in that way, very much an imitation of life. Each of us lives our own story, but at the same time we play parts in the stories of others. Circles intersect circles and at the best of times, in the best of worlds, create a marvelous mosaic of color and realization. In the worst of times, of course, the creation is one of chaos, which is, as all readers and writers know, the stuff of which novels are made—the incredible, fertile soil from which spring the alluring and beckoning words that draw storytellers and listeners alike. What if … What if … What if …

The first “what if” that planted the seeds for
Call Down the Stars
came from our friend Mike Livingston. My husband, Neil, and I were having a conversation with Mike and his wife, Rayna, about Mike’s Aleut heritage. He happened to mention that he believed there was some link between the Japanese and Aleut cultures and peoples. It was an intriguing thought, but at the time I didn’t follow it up. Several years later, when Neil and I were in Japan on a book tour for my Japanese publisher, Shobun-sha, Mike’s words came back to me.

A scheduled interview with Hashida Yoshinori, a writer for
Kyodo News,
opened a whole new world of possibilities when he began to talk about the Jomon era of ancient Japan. He gave me books and introduced me to the Jomon Era Information Transmitting Association. I found the similarities between the ancient Aleut and the Jomon People to be fascinating.

A little research in the Aleutian Islands turned up various written and word-of-mouth tales about ancient people from strange lands who came to the islands via storms and shipwrecks. Some oceanic sleuthing led to information about the Kuroshio Current, which pulses north from the eastern side of Japan to the southern Aleutian Islands. What more does an author need than such fascinating weft and warp to weave a tale of possibilities?

As with all my novels, in
Call Down the Stars,
legends play a large part in determining my storyline. Readers familiar with the mythology of northern peoples will recognize Daughter’s story as a gentler version of the widespread and well-known Sedna legends. In the original, the daughter loses more than a toe, and for less pressing reasons than starvation.

A few other comments, mostly for clarification: I am aware that the tundra and northern boreal forests are not as plentiful in game as more temperate regions in North America, but when Chakliux’s people comment on the blessings of their game-filled land, the reader must realize that those ancient hunter-gatherers had not experienced life in other areas, where a greater number and variety of plants and animals abound.

Anthropologists and population experts have noticed that after a devastating war, a disproportionate number of male babies are born in the ensuing years. Not being an expert in this area, I’ll take their word for it, and rather than try to explain it, include the phenomenon as fact in my novels.

It was my pleasure in the late 1980s and early 1990s to teach creative and advanced creative writing at Lake Superior State University, a small school on the eastern shore of Michigan’s northern peninsula. I’m sure my students taught me more about writing than I was able to teach them, and in this novel much of what I learned is revealed through the conversations, successes, and failures experienced by the young storyteller Yikaas. For example, in Chapter Thirty, Yikaas unwisely continues his tale beyond its natural conclusion, and thus dilutes the power of the denouement. I purposely include this and various other storytelling weaknesses or errors to highlight the growth process that every storyteller experiences. It is a continual struggle. Perfection is impossible. What joy! What frustration!

Among Athabascan peoples, and indeed, within all Native American cultures I have studied, names are considered sacred and carry spiritual significance. Thus, when Red Leaf agrees to name her daughter Daes, she has committed an immense betrayal that will place her daughter in spiritual danger.

One last note, and this is for those readers, so close to my heart, who celebrate the etymology of words. In Chapter Twelve, when K’os tries to get Cries-loud to take the name
Tigangiyaanen
(expert hunter or warrior), she is tempting him to step beyond his rights as a young hunter to boast of a prowess he does not yet possess. She also seeks to control him by elevating herself to the position of name-giver. The root of this Ahtna Athabascan word is
yaa,
which has multiple meanings, but in this context refers to growing into maturity. Within the word
tigangiyaanen,
the root
yaa
most likely originated from another root,
yae,
in which growth means the healing of a wound. If Cries-loud assumes the name, then he is also recognizing K’os’s worth as a healer. Thus, in tempting Cries-loud with the name
Tigangiyaanen,
K’os is seeking to increase her own power and status by compromising Cries-loud’s integrity.

AA, AAA
(Aleut, Athabascan) Interjection used to express surprise: “Oh!” (The double or triple
a
carries a long
a
sound.)

ANGAX
(Aleut) Power.
Anga
is the root used in the Aleut word for
elder brother.
(The
a
’s are short; because it falls before the letter
n,
the first
a
takes on more of a short
e
sound. The Aleut
n
is quite nasal; the
g
is a voiced velar fricative, quite guttural; and the final
x
is a voiceless velar fricative.)

AQAMDAX
(Aleut) Cloudberry,
Rubus chamaemorus.
(See Pharmacognosia.) (The
a
’s are short. The Aleut
q
is like a harsh English
k,
the
m
like an English
m,
and
d
much like the English
th.
The Aleut
x
is a voiceless velar fricative.)

BABICHE
(English—probably anglicized from the Cree word
assababish,
a diminutive of
assabab,
“thread.”) Lacing made from rawhide.

CEN
(Ahtna Athabascan) Tundra.
(Ken
—The
c
sounds like an English
k.
The
e
carries a short sound like the
e
in the English word
set.
The Ahtna
n
sounds like the English
n.)

CET’AENI
(Ahtna Athabascan) Creatures of ancient Ahtna legend. They are tailed and live in trees and caves. (The
c
sounds like an English
k.
The
e
carries a short sound like the
e
in the English word
set.
The
t’
is much like an English
t
followed by a glottal release. The diphthong
ae
is pronounced like the
a
in the English word
cat.
The
n
is much like the English
n,
and the final
i
has a short
i
sound as in the English word
sit.
The
t’aen
is accented.)

CHAGAK
(Aleut) Obsidian, red cedar. (The Aleut
ch
is much like the English
ch,
the
g
is like a guttural English
g,
and the
k
is a voiced fricative. The
a
’s are short like the
aw
in the English word
paw.
The accent falls on the last syllable.)

CHAKLIUX
(Ahtna Athabascan, as recorded by Pinart in 1872) Sea otter. (The word is pronounced as it would be in English, with the
a
taking on the sound of the
u
in the English word
mutt,
the
i
assuming a short sound as in the English word
sit,
and the
u
the sound of the
oo
in the English word
brook.
The final
x
is a voiceless velar fricative.)

CHIGDAX
(Aleut) A waterproof, watertight parka made of sea lion or bear intestines, esophagus of seal or sea lion, or the tongue skin of a whale. The hood had a drawstring, and the sleeves were tied at the wrists during sea travel. These knee-length garments were often decorated with feathers and bits of colored esophagus. (The Aleut
ch
is much like the English
ch,
the
g
like a guttural English
g,
and the
d
carries almost a
th
sound. The vowels are short. The
x
should be properly written as a careted
x,
and is a voiceless uvular fricative.)

CHISUM NAGA
(Aleut) Vagina. (The Aleut
ch
is much like the English
ch,
and the vowels are short. The Aleut
s
is like the English
sh,
the
m
like the English
m,
the
n
quite nasal, and the
g
is a voiced velar fricative, quite guttural.)

CIXUDANGIX
(Aleut) Sea gull flower—white anemone,
anemone narcissiflora.
(See Pharmacognosia.) (The
c
is pronounced like the English
k;
the vowels are short; the
x
’s are voiceless velar fricatives. The Aleut
d
carries almost a
th
sound, and the
n
is quite nasal. The
g
is like a guttural English
g.)

DAES
(Ahtna Athabascan) Shallow, a shallow portion of a lake or stream. (The
d
is pronounced with tongue tip touching the backs of the top front teeth. It carries almost a
t
sound. The diphthong
ae
has a sound similar to that in the English word
hat.
The final
s
carries almost a
sh
sound.)

DII
(Ahtna Athabascan) One alone, on one’s own.
(Dee
—The
d
is pronounced with the tongue tip touching the backs of the top front teeth. It carries almost a
t
sound. The double
i
carries a long
e
sound as in the English word
free.)

DZUUGGI
(Ahtna Athabascan) A favored child who receives special training, especially in oral traditions, from infancy. (The
dz
takes the sound of the final
ds
in the English word
leads.
The
uu
sounds like the
ui
in the English word
fruit.
The Ahtna
gg
has no English equivalent. It is very guttural and pronounced with the back of the tongue held against the soft palate. The
i
has a short
i
sound as in the English word
sit.
The accent is on the first syllable.)

GGUZAAKK
(Koyukon Athabascan) A thrush,
Hylocichla minima, H. ustulata,
and
H. guttata.
These birds sing an intricately beautiful song that the Koyukon people traditionally believe to indicate the presence of an unknown person or spirit. (The
gg
has no English equivalent. It is very guttural and pronounced with the back of the tongue held against the soft palate. The
u
sounds similar to the
oo
in the English word
book.
The z is similar in sound to
zh,
or the
s
in
treasure.
The
aa
carries an
aw
sound. The
kk
is a very hard
c
sound.)

GHADEN
(Ahtna Athabascan) Another person. (The Ahtna
gh
has no English equivalent. It closely resembles the French
r.
The
a
sounds like the English vowel
u
in the word
but.
The Ahtna
d
is pronounced with the tongue tip touching the backs of the top front teeth. It carries almost a
t
sound. The
e
carries a short sound like the
e
in the English word
set.
The Ahtna
n
sounds like the English
n
.)

GHELI
(Ahtna Athabascan) True, good. (The Ahtna
gh
has no English equivalent. It closely resembles the French
r.
The
e
carries a short sound like the
e
in the English word
set.
The Ahtna
l
sounds like the
l
’s in the English word
call.
The
i
is like the
i
in the English word
sit.)

HAYH
(Ahtna Athabascan) Expression of disgust. (The Ahtna
h
is a voiceless glottal fricative and rarely used before a vowel. In
hayh
the first
h
takes on a more voiced sound like the
h
in the English word
house,
while the second
h
combines with
y
to give a rare sound in the Athabascan languages. It is pronounced as a voiceless front velar fricative. The
a
is pronounced like the
u
in the English word
mutt.)

IITIKAALUX
(Atkan Aleut) Cow parsnip, wild celery,
Heracleum lanatum.
(See Pharmacognosia.) The
ii
is pronounced like a long
e.
The
t
and
l
are much like their English equivalents. The single
i
and
u
are short, and the
aa
carries a long
a
sound. The
k
is a guttural English
k.
The
x
should be properly written as a careted
x,
and is a voiceless uvular fricative. The accent is on the penultimate syllable.)

IORI
(Japanese) Hut.

IQYAX,
pl.
IQYAN
(Aleut) A skin-covered, wooden-framed boat, a kayak. (The two vowels are short. The
q
is like a harsh English
k,
the
y
much like an English
y,
and the final
x
is a voiceless velar fricative. The Aleut
n
is quite nasal. Accent the first syllable.)