25 Books by Indigenous Authors You Should Be Reading



So here’s the thing.

It’s time.

I’m constantly asked for resources on how people can move forward learning about Indigenous culture, and I’m often repeating the same thing: read books.

Read books.

First and foremost, this supports Indigenous peoples who are writers and creators. It directly gives back to Indigenous communities and reminds the reader that Indigenous peoples are still here, creating new content for the world.

It’s also important to have this conversation for well-meaning allies. Indigenous peoples cannot do the work for you. You must dig in and learn yourself, and the best way to do that is lean into our cultures. Learn about us. Do your research, and then we can have a conversation that isn’t a one-sided history or cultural lesson.

So I’ve compiled a list of 25 books, some that I’m reading now, some that I’ve already read, some that I can’t wait to get my hands on.

These are books by people of many different tribes. When asked by Christians who they should read by Indigenous theologians, this is my answer: read everything. Read books by people who are and aren’t Christians, because if you really want to know about and engage Indigenous cultures, you have to read from a variety of voices.

If you want to break cycles of colonization and assimilation, you must take the time to learn from Indigenous experiences, through our own words.
To truly learn who we are means you engage with us on our terms.

Some of these books are fiction, some are non-fiction. A few are children’s books, and I encourage you to buy them whether you have children or not.

Spirituality is a thread throughout many of them, because Indigenous culture is felt through our spirits, our ancestors, and the land. Some are books of poetry and prayers, some are strictly unpacking history.

I hope you find exactly what you need here, and please know that this is only a few of the many amazing books out in the world written by Indigenous peoples.

More lists to come!

Some of these books will take you directly to Amazon, but many of them can be bought through independent bookstores or university publishers, so I encourage you to put money into these spaces to support booksellers and authors outside the huge retail giant that is Amazon.


Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants by Robin Wall Kimmerer (Potawatomi Citizen Band)

Drawing on her life as an indigenous scientist, and as a woman, Kimmerer shows how other living beings―asters and goldenrod, strawberries and squash, salamanders, algae, and sweetgrass―offer us gifts and lessons, even if we’ve forgotten how to hear their voices. In reflections that range from the creation of Turtle Island to the forces that threaten its flourishing today, she circles toward a central argument: that the awakening of ecological consciousness requires the acknowledgment and celebration of our reciprocal relationship with the rest of the living world. For only when we can hear the languages of other beings will we be capable of understanding the generosity of the earth, and learn to give our own gifts in return.


God is Red: A Native View of Religion by Vine Deloria, Jr. (Standing Rock Sioux)

God Is Red remains the seminal work on Native religious views, asking new questions about our species and our ultimate fate. Celebrating three decades in publication with a special 30th-anniversary edition.


Why Indigenous Literatures Matter by Daniel Heath Justice (Cherokee Nation)

Part survey of the field of Indigenous literary studies, part cultural history, and part literary polemic, WhyIndigenous Literatures Matter asserts the vital significance of literary expression to the political, creative, and intellectual efforts of Indigenous peoples today. In considering the connections between literature and lived experience, this book contemplates four key questions at the heart of Indigenous kinship traditions: How do we learn to be human? How do we become good relatives? How do we become good ancestors? How do we learn to live together?


Why Storms are Named After People and Bullets Remain Nameless by Tanaya Winder (Duckwater Shoshone, Pyramid Lake Paiute & So)

In “Why Storms are named after People but Bullets remain nameless,” we find Tanaya Winder in the thick of a beautiful burn, where “pain demands to be felt,” where joy or maybe something more decolonial than it bubbles up from the black hole of the past.


Shalom and the Community of Creation by Randy Woodley (Keetoowah)

In Shalom and the Community of Creation Randy Woodley offers an answer: learn more about the Native American ‘Harmony Way,’ a concept that closely parallels biblical shalom. Doing so can bring reconciliation between Euro-Westerners and indigenous peoples, a new connectedness with the Creator and creation, an end to imperial warfare, the ability to live in the moment, justice, restoration — and a more biblically authentic spirituality. Rooted in redemptive correction, this book calls for true partnership through the co-creation of new theological systems that foster wholeness and peace.


Whereas by Layli Long Soldier (Oglala Lakota)

WHEREAS confronts the coercive language of the United States government in its responses, treaties, and apologies to Native American peoples and tribes, and reflects that language in its officiousness and duplicity back on its perpetrators. Through a virtuosic array of short lyrics, prose poems, longer narrative sequences, resolutions, and disclaimers, Layli Long Soldier has created a brilliantly innovative text to examine histories, landscapes, her own writing, and her predicament inside national affiliations.


Heart Berries by Terese Mailhot (Seabird Island Band)

Heart Berries is a powerful, poetic memoir of a woman’s coming of age on the Seabird Island Band in the Pacific Northwest. Having survived a profoundly dysfunctional upbringing only to find herself hospitalized and facing a dual diagnosis of post traumatic stress disorder and bipolar II disorder; Terese Marie Mailhot is given a notebook and begins to write her way out of trauma.


One Church, Many Tribes by Richard Twiss (Sicangu Lakota Oyate)

In this captivating chronicle of the Native American story, Richard Twiss of the Rosebud Lakota/Sioux sifts through myth and legend to reveal God’s strategy for the nation’s host people.


The Round House: A Novel by Louise Erdrich (Turtle Mountain Band Chippewa)

The Round House is a page-turning masterpiece of literary fiction—at once a powerful coming-of-age story, a mystery, and a tender, moving novel of family, history, and culture.


Onigamiising: Seasons of an Ojibwe Year by Linda LeGarde Grover (Bois Forte Band of Ojibwe)

In fifty short essays, Grover reflects on the spiritual beliefs and everyday practices that carry the Ojibwe through the year and connect them to this northern land of rugged splendor. As the four seasons unfold—from Ziigwan (Spring) through Niibin and Dagwaagin to the silent, snowy promise of Biboon—the award-winning author writes eloquently of the landscape and the weather, work and play, ceremony and tradition and family ways, from the homey moments shared over meals to the celebrations that mark life’s great events.


The Manitous: The Spiritual World of the Ojibway by Basil Johnston (Ojibway)

Manitous lived in human form among the Ojibway in the early days, after Kitchi-Manitou (the Great Mystery) created all things and Muzzu-Kummik-Quae (Mother Earth) revealed the natural order of the world. With depth and humor, Johnston tells how lasting tradition was brought to the Ojibway by four half-human brothers, including Nana’b’oozoo, the beloved archetypal being who means well but often blunders. He also relates how people are helped and hindered by other entities, such as the manitous of the forests and meadows, personal manitous and totems, mermen and merwomen, Pauguk (the cursed Flying Skeleton), and the Weendigoes, famed and terrifying giant cannibals.


There, There: A Novel by Tommy Orange (Cheyenne, Arapaho)

Here is a voice we have never heard—a voice full of poetry and rage, exploding onto the page with urgency and force. Tommy Orange has written a stunning novel that grapples with a complex and painful history, with an inheritance of beauty and profound spirituality, and with a plague of addiction, abuse, and suicide. This is the book that everyone is talking about right now, and it’s destined to be a classic.


Glory Happening: Finding the Divine in Everyday Places by Kaitlin Curtice (Potawatomi Citizen Band)

Glory Happening is a book of stories and prayers that remind you to take a closer look at your everyday circumstances, to find the magical beauty in everyday experiences. It is an invitation to live deeply into every moment with the expectation that something good will find you at the end of the day. And once you experience glory, you have words to speak, a prayer to pray, and a story to tell. And so glory grows from person to person, and community is created around the reality that God is truly in our midst.


Native American DNA: Tribal Belonging and the False Promise of Genetic Science by Kim Tallbear (Sisseton Wahpeton Oyate)

In Native American DNA, Kim TallBear shows how DNA testing is a powerful—and problematic—scientific process that is useful in determining close biological relatives. But tribal membership is a legal category that has developed in dependence on certain social understandings and historical contexts, a set of concepts that entangles genetic information in a web of family relations, reservation histories, tribal rules, and government regulations. At a larger level, TallBear asserts, the “markers” that are identified and applied to specific groups such as Native American tribes bear the imprints of the cultural, racial, ethnic, national, and even tribal misinterpretations of the humans who study them.


American Indian Liberation: A Theology of Sovereignty by George Tinker (Osage)

Why Christian understandings of Jesus and God clash with American Indian worldviews. “Tink” Tinker of the Osage Nation describes the oppression suffered by American Indians since the arrival of European colonists, who brought a different worldview across the ocean and attempted to convert the native population to the religion they also imported.


Colonial Entanglement: Constituting a Twenty-First-Century Osage Nation by Jean Dennison (Osage)

By situating the 2004-6 Osage Nation reform process within its historical and current contexts, Dennison illustrates how the Osage have creatively responded to continuing assaults on their nationhood. A fascinating account of a nation in the midst of its own remaking, Colonial Entanglement presents a sharp analysis of how legacies of European invasion and settlement in North America continue to affect indigenous people’s views of selfhood and nationhood.


Two Old Women by Velma Wallis (Gwich’in Athabaskan)

Based on an Athabascan Indian legend passed along for many generations from mothers to daughters of the upper Yukon River Valley in Alaska, this is the suspenseful, shocking, ultimately inspirational tale of two old women abandoned by their tribe during a brutal winter famine.

Though these women have been known to complain more than contribute, they now must either survive on their own or die trying. In simple but vivid detail, Velma Wallis depicts a landscape and way of life that are at once merciless and starkly beautiful. In her old women, she has created two heroines of steely determination whose story of betrayal, friendship, community, and forgiveness “speaks straight to the heart with clarity, sweetness, and wisdom” (Ursula K. Le Guin).


Drowning in Fire (Sun Tracks) by Craig Womack (Muscogee Creek-Cherokee)

Interweaving past and present, history and story, explicit realism and dreamlike visions, Craig Womack’s Drowning in Fire explores a young man’s journey to understand his cultural and sexual identity within a framework drawn from the community of his origins. A groundbreaking and provocative coming-of-age story, Drowning in Fire is a vividly realized novel by an impressive literary talent.


I Am Woman: A Native Perspective on Sociology and Feminism by Lee Maracle (Stó:lo Nation of British Columbia)

I Am Woman represents my personal struggle with womanhood, culture, traditional spiritual beliefs and political sovereignty, written during a time when that struggle was not over. My original intention was to empower Native women to take to heart their own personal struggle for Native feminist being. The changes made in this second edition of the text do not alter my original intention. It remains my attempt to present a Native woman’s sociological perspective on the impacts of colonialism on us, as women, and on my self personally.


Power: A Novel by Linda Hogan (Chickasaw)

When sixteen-year-old Omishto, a member of the Taiga Tribe, witnesses her Aunt Ama kill a panther-an animal considered to be a sacred ancestor of the Taiga people-she is suddenly torn between her loyalties to her Westernized mother, who wants her to reject the ways of the tribe, and to Ama and her traditional people, for whom the killing of the panther takes on grave importance.


Trail of Lightning (The Sixth World) by Rebecca Roanhorse (Ohkay Owingeh)

Maggie Hoskie is a Dinétah monster hunter, a supernaturally gifted killer. When a small town needs help finding a missing girl, Maggie is their last best hope. But what Maggie uncovers about the monster is much more terrifying than anything she could imagine.


Our History is The Future: Standing Rock Versus the Dakota Access Pipeline and the Long Tradition of Indigenous Resistance by Nick Estes ( Kul Wicasa and citizen of the Lower Brule Sioux Tribe)

In 2016, a small protest encampment at the Standing Rock Reservation in North Dakota, initially established to block construction of the Dakota Access oil pipeline, grew to be the largest Indigenous protest movement in the twenty-first century. Water Protectors knew this battle for native sovereignty had already been fought many times before, and that, even after the encampment was gone, their anticolonial struggle would continue. In Our History Is the Future, Nick Estes traces traditions of Indigenous resistance that led to the #NoDAPL movement. Our History Is the Future is at once a work of history, a manifesto, and an intergenerational story of resistance.


Embers: One Ojibway’s Meditations by Richard Wagamese (Ojibwe) 

In this carefully curated selection of everyday reflections, Richard Wagamese finds lessons in both the mundane and sublime as he muses on the universe, drawing inspiration from working in the bush—sawing and cutting and stacking wood for winter as well as the smudge ceremony to bring him closer to the Creator. Embers is perhaps Richard Wagamese’s most personal volume to date. Honest, evocative and articulate, he explores the various manifestations of grief, joy, recovery, beauty, gratitude, physicality and spirituality—concepts many find hard to express.


Bowwow Powwow by Brenda J Child (Red Lake Ojibwe)

When Uncle and Windy Girl and Itchy Boy attend a powwow, Windy watches the dancers and listens to the singers. She eats tasty food and joins family and friends around the campfire. Later, Windy falls asleep under the stars. Now Uncle’s stories inspire other visions in her head: a bowwow powwow, where all the dancers are dogs. In these magical scenes, Windy sees veterans in a Grand Entry, and a visiting drum group, and traditional dancers, grass dancers, and jingle-dress dancers–all with telltale ears and paws and tails. All celebrating in song and dance. All attesting to the wonder of the powwow.


The Mishomis Book: The Voice of the Ojibway by Edward Benton-Banai (Wisconsin Ojibway)

Written for readers from all cultures-but especially for Ojibway and Native youth-The Mishomis Bookprovides an introduction to Ojibway culture and an understanding of the sacred Midewiwin teachings, aiming to protect this knowledge by instilling its importance in a new generation. Encouraging the preservation of a way of life that is centered on respect for all living things, these vibrant stories about life, self, community, and relationship to nature are just as relevant to the modern reader as they were hundreds of years ago.



“If we are serious about establishing better relations than those we’ve had in the past– and if we’re serious as a country and as a broader, multination, multicultural, and multivocal community– then we must return our attention to Indigenous voices, perspectives, and experiences. There’s simply no other way of moving forward. To do otherwise is to replicate the injustices and exclusions of the past, and that hasn’t ever served any of us very well.”

— Daniel Heath Justice




7 GRATITUDES: a bullet poem


For a little while now, I’m joining some friends to celebrate gratitude every Friday.

Today, a bullet poem:


At the end of this string of weekdays, I breathe hello to Friday and remember gratefulness.

Some say that it’s the thing that holds us together, this practice of looking at the world and saying we’re glad to be a part of it.

So I gather my seven gratitudes, seven expressions of hope.

  • I count two little heads that sleep beneath covers at night, the two boys that I get to spend my days learning beside. They illuminate every darkness.
  • The redwing blackbirds visit, daily placing their silhouettes against our bright blue skies, surprising us with their always-togetherness. Family.
  • Dreams, the kind that entertain- Obama singing along with Mumford at an awards show- Dreams, the kind that prophesy and teach, remind and restore.
  • Worship, the breathing room kind that meets outside religion’s walls, that calls me back to God in the middle of everything that is life. Worship is a beckoning, and we would be wise to let her otherness bring us together, especially in these weary days.
  • In that moment just last week, I said to a friend that I don’t read the Bible much– spoken word– a prayer issued to God, a bible brought to my mailbox yesterday from a far-off friend, accompanied by a bar of dark chocolate. This far-off friend, who once kissed me on the forehead and called me loved. A Bible and a bar of dark chocolate commissioned with the words, “We long for your company with the love of God.”
  • In process of good work, we as what good work means. Does it mean to breathe without worry, to look in another’s eyes without conflict, to practice empathy in every way? Progress in book writing and song writing, worship leading and teaching, learning and re-learning; a real-life book in the works with a real-life deadline and a real-life release date, and I think that this good work is what I’m made of for now.
  • Grateful that the future belongs to the enduring space of shalom? Absolutely.


Absolutely grateful.






Lent, Day 13: for my Hoping

“…and the deepest, wildest voice they had ever heard was saying: ‘Narnia, Narnia, awake. Love. Think. Speak. Be walking trees. Be talking beasts. Be divine waters.'” –The Magician’s Nephew, CS Lewis 


Why can’t we just escape to Narnia, to see it from the beginning, to take in the magic of animals being birthed from the ground and trees sprouting up from nothing?

I’d give anything to actually touch the soft and rugged fur on Aslan’s back, these stories mean so much to me.

We started with the first book, the boys and I, and we’ve barely been able to put it down.

When you dream and imagine with a toddler, every world you enter into becomes magical and new and all-compassing.

I’ve needed that, needed space to dream in another world and remember what is good, remember what is holy, let that sink back into my own world here.

We live where things are dangerous and holy, good and evil, bright and dark.

And when I’m having a hard time understanding the difference, characters like Aslan and Digory and Polly and Strawberry the horse remind me that hope just carries the weight of the world somehow.

So today, I’ll rest, and I’ll let Lent be Lent, and I’ll go to a park and play with my boys and enjoy community and let an early spring give us life.

Hallelujah for a world like Narnia and a world like ours, and the way they mingle with each other every now and then.



New Year’s Resolve: it’s the little things

Last night we celebrated a family-friendly New Year with some sweet, new friends.

We had homemade pizza, we made s’mores with marshmallows the size of Eliot’s fist, and we toasted to the New Year at promptly 8:00.

We raised our cups of sparkling wine, and the kids chugged their apple cider. We blew noise makers. It was a beautiful ruckus.

We stopped a few moments later and tried to explain to the kids what it means to be a new year. But they weren’t having it, and who would desire to gain such knowledge when Kung-fu Panda is hopping around, karate-chopping all those bad guys?

And I think to myself, do we even understand what it means?

We trace our fingers over the calendar and wonder what, exactly, is in store for us. Our best guesses are the resolutions we promise to ourselves, goals set to make us better, stronger, more alive.

I don’t really make big resolutions anymore, thanks to that Fear Monster, who reminds me that I’m bad at being disciplined. So I make almost-goals, and they are way back in the back of my mind and heart, tucked away under heavy blankets. And if I happen to reach one of those goals, I pull it out and yell, “Hurray! I did it!”

So while I’m here, today, January 1, 2015, I’ll name a few of them and be honest with myself.

This blog is taking on a new face, and I am putting on my big girl britches to try to muster the patience to figure it all out in the midst of a blogging world that’s changing.These are the moments that deep down I am prostrate, thanking God for my kind and enduring husband, who spends hours designing this site, doing what I don’t understand with a totally sweet smile on his face. Somehow, his encouragement knows no bounds.

And while I’m spending time right here, processing and learning and sputtering out words every few days, I’m working on a book, and I hope to finish it in 2015 (anybody know of a good publisher?). It’s about the span of our lives, the timeline on which we place this event or this moment. We look back, remember, and share each moment across the table with one another, just like we share our stories. And it helps us all endure, because it’s the process of listening and learning more about each other and ourselves.

I’m going to homeschool Eliot this year, and he and I are going to fill our curious minds with the world’s wonders, and I’m wide-eyed just thinking about it. We’re examining light bulbs and pointing at low-hanging world maps so his fingers can touch every continent. He’s tracing the contrails of the planes that fly above us, and I’m googling new things on my phone to answer his curiosities. And it’s the joy of learning all over again.

And I’m praying to become a wiser, self-disciplined, less-fearful mother and woman along the way.

This morning we woke up and went to a doughnut shop that we’ve never been to, a place that I’d been storing in the back of my mind for awhile. We walked in and smiled, and we ordered four doughnuts and two cups of coffee. We laughed at the doughnut with the little plastic baby on it, pronouncing 2015 in white icing.


We stuffed our faces and looked down at the near nothingness left on our little lined silver tray, and we sat back and enjoyed and said Happy New Year with chocolate smeared across the boys’ faces.


We’ve got another semester of Phd-ing ahead, and we’re digging in our heels and preparing for it to be a bumpy road, but one we can handle, nonetheless.

It’s got to be the little things that get us through the big things this year. It’s got to be little kisses and kind encouragements, gentle urgings and constant reminders that we’re not alone, and that we’re being led every single day. I’m going to read and write and find really sweet peace in this space to share my heart with kind people who read these words and encourage me.

Have I said thank you for being here? It means a lot to me.

It’s all adventure, kind adventure.

Look ahead with joy, friends, and let’s welcome the New Year with smiles on our faces, and maybe a little doughnut frosting smeared there, too.