The Power of Story: On Truth, the Trickster, and New Fictions for a New Era
Author: Harold R. Johnson, and Forward by Tracey Lindberg
Publisher: BIBLIOASIS, paperback, 187 pages, including Forward, Prologue, and The Power of Story
Reviewed by Rev. Garth Wehrfritz-Hanson
The Author(s)
Harold R. Johnson (1954-2022) was something of a Renaissance man. He was the author of six works of fiction and six works of nonfiction, including Firewater: How Alcohol is Killing My People (and Yours), which was a finalist for the Governor General’s Literary Award for Nonfiction. Born and raised in northern Saskatchewan to a Swedish father and a Cree mother, Johnson served in the Canadian Navy and worked as a miner, logger, mechanic, trapper, fisherman, tree planter, and heavy-equipment operator. He graduated from Harvard Law School and managed a private practice for several years before becoming a Crown prosecutor. He was a member of the Montreal Lake Cree Nation. In The Power of Story Johnson shares some of his knowledge, wisdom, and experiences he gained from the wide array of his occupations.
Tracey Lindberg is a writer, scholar, lawyer and Indigenous Rights activist from the Kelly Lake Cree Nation in British Columbia, and friend of Harold Johnson.
Forward
In her forward, Tracey Lindberg speaks of an important occasion when she and Harold Johnson were both living in Saskatoon, and they both gave a reading of their work at the Broadway Theatre. Seeing him as a fiction writer left a surprising impression upon Lindberg.
Lindberg states that Johnson has been described as a “genre-bending (Clifford), border-crossing (Bjorkan Sagas) and a creative philosopher (Cry Wolf)...(p. 14).”
Lindberg points out that one of the most significant emphasis of Johnson’s life and work was: “we are the stories we tell and we become the stories we tell ourselves (p. 15).”
Prologue and The Power of Story
In the Prologue, Johnson briefly describes the context and background of this volume, which was his last—having written the last edited version only a couple of weeks before his death. The Saskatchewan ecumenical society made arrangements to visit Johnson, and there were 12 of the ecumenical society’s members who arrived in 2 boats, where he lived in northern Saskatchewan. He then welcomed them, and proceeded to tell them his stories, which are contained in this volume.
Johnson begins “The Power of Story portion of the book by acknowledging the land he was living on, including everything: trees, water, birds animals, and so on. He then speaks a little about how his family were unjustly displaced to the land. “This land we are on is where my grandfather settled after being evicted from the territory that became Prince Albert National Park. My mother was only twelve years old when the RCMP went there and told all the Indians they had to leave (p. 16).”
The volume is mainly a collection of story after story. Although he is a master storyteller, Johnson has an interesting—albeit for some, perhaps controversial or incorrect—take on stories. Rather than tell one or more of his stories in this review, I am going to provide readers with several thought-provoking quotations, which hopefully spark enough interest to either purchase this volume or borrow it from a library.
According to Johnson: “Stories are not part of your culture. Your culture is story. Our being is story (p. 35).”
Stories can be revised, edited, changed over the years, therefore Johnson believes that stories are fiction rather than true. “None of the stories we tell ourselves are true (p. 36).”
In speaking of his time at Harvard, Johnson states: “I went to Harvard because I wanted to prove that nobody gave me anything. That’s true. But I also went to Harvard because Harvard is a prestigious place and I wanted some of that prestige. Another reason I went to Harvard was to study. I wanted to know more (p. 39).”
Over against settler history and interpretation of Treaties, Johnson states: “All the rights that Canadians enjoy, all the privileges they have living in one of the wealthiest countries in the world, are Treaty Rights. They have those rights by virtue of being related to Indigenous Peoples. When we adopted them as our relatives, as our cousins, our ancestors became their ancestors (p. 63).”
“Science is a story, but so, too, is its supposed antithesis—God (p. 72).”
“As Aboriginal people we have understood...that we are related to everything around us. It’s part of our spirituality. When I finish a prayer, I remember to say “kakithaw nawakomakanak,” which means, “all my relations” (p. 75).”
Many readers, I think, will be surprised by and disagree with Johnson’s view of justice. “Justice is a fiction. We created it. It’s not something tangible. You can’t touch it. You can’t taste it. It’s an idea. It’s a story made up. Justice doesn’t exist in nature (p. 82).”
“Placebo and nocebo effects are not restricted to medicine and sugar pills. Every story we tell can heal or kill. You have to be very careful of the stories that you tell (p.89).”
“A single word can hurt or heal, and we have no way of knowing the result. We never know how our words will be taken (p. 92).” Johnson does not mention this in his book, however this reminds me of the Indigenous tradition that God speaks to us in the silence between the words, and God speaks to us between the drumbeats.
“Did you know that 95 percent of men and 97 percent of women in prison were sexually or physically abused when they were children. I learned this from an Edmonton police officer who is working on his doctorate (p. 96).”
“As long as the rest of Canada and the world sees us as victims, if that’s the story they tell themselves about us, that’s the way we will be treated (p. 98).” Johnson makes an insightful case for recognition of the distinction between what we mean by victim and what we mean by being victimized.
“We need stories of hope and possibility to nurture us. We need new heroes—environmental heroes, humanity heroes, and social development heroes (p. 100).”
“Your personal story is a sacred story. It has power. It can change the world (p. 107).”
Johnson’s mother made a good living trapping and fishing. Sadly, the government forced her to move to La Ronge and go on welfare or she would lose her children. However Johnson states: “I was fortunate. I was taken out to the trapline and taught how to live on the land (p. 129).”
“The greatest diminishment of our people came about from the attack on women (p. 148).”
An Indigenous woman told Johnson a story about how a sex worker’s life was changed because a woman walking by her stopped and gave her a hug. That’s all it took for her to stop being a sex worker, get clean, and now she’s helping others to get off the street.
“A common difference between people who live well into their hundreds and people who don’t is that people who are cared about live longer. Sometimes it’s that simple (pp. 178-179).”
“We all need to be in a story that tells us that we are wanted, we are cared for, and that we belong (p. 180).” Now that’s Gospel/Good News! And to that I say, AMEN!
