Novel is an inspiring, but tragic First Nation story
The Heaviness of Things That Float is an inspiring, but tragic story. It’s the story of Bernadette, a nurse who has lived and worked in a remote First Nation reserve on the west coast of B.C. for the past 40 years. Bernadette is part of the community, yet she remains apart, having lived alone in a small outpost as the community’s nurse for all those years. She’s now 65 and ready to retire, which means leaving the reserve and the people she has come to know so well.
But just before she is getting set to go, Chase Charlie, a young man Bernadette is very close to, goes missing. A search begins and the First Nation community and Bernadette are thrown into crisis by his disappearance. Although she isn’t aboriginal, Manuel tells the story with great insight and care, likely because she has a long history of working with First Nations people.
Manuel has been an activist for aboriginal issues for more than 20 years, the publicity material provided with the book states. Her work has included educating aboriginal adults and children, including working in remote areas of B.C. like the community portrayed in her novel. While working in Kyoquot, on Vancouver Island, she was adopted by the John family and given the name aa ap wa iick by the late elder Kelly John. The name means Always Speaks Wisely, Manuel writes in the book’s author’s note.
As the story of Bernadette’s history on the reserve and Chase’s disappearance unfolds, it becomes clear the story is really one about privilege. Manuel acknowledges her own privilege in the author’s note, and Bernadette wrestles heavily with questions about her role in the community — does she belong or is she an outsider? Do the people respect her or laugh at her? Has she made any difference in her 40 years in the community?
Manuel writes that Bernadette has forgotten how privileged she is compared to her aboriginal neighbours. “It hasn’t occurred to her that she may still hold assumptions rooted in her own dominant culture, and when you are in a position of privilege, the worst thing you can do assume,” Manuel writes. “It’s the novel’s central message: try to know the other, but never assume to know the other.”
And even after 40 years, Bernadette is in for a few surprises during the course of this story. Some of them are uncomfortable, and some of them are tragic.
Manuel’s writing is revelatory. It carries implicit wisdom about the tension between aboriginal and non-aboriginal people, that is there because of their divergent past histories, even when they don’t know it and try their best to overcome it. Her deep knowledge and empathy for First Nations people is clearly apparent.
But the book also holds universal truths, applicable to all people. Consider this passage: “I saw now how slippery time was, that four decades could escape my grip so easily. I should have held on more tightly. Squeezed my fist around those years.” Anyone staring down the latter half of their life can relate. And as well as carrying a meaningful message about aboriginal people, Manuel has written a well-timed, compelling and readable novel.
The Heaviness of Things That Float is a remarkable novel, one that is deeply of our time and place in B.C. and Canada in this time of truth and reconciliation.