Yellow Bird: Oil, Murder, and a Woman's Search for Justice in Indian Country

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I am always fascinated by an author’s ability to write about an abhorrent time in history and turn it into something of beauty and this is just what Jennifer Rosner has accomplished in her latest novel. I used to have a Marine recruiter that lived across the street from me. I mentioned to him how devastating it was to see the names of these kids that were sitting in high school classrooms just months before they died overseas. He replied to me that they had realized the political ramifications of that and now were holding up deploying Marines to combat zones until they turned 19. He could have just been bullshitting me (He was a spin doctor patrolling the mall daily looking for kids with nothing to do.), as if 19 was so much better than 18, but I did notice that average ages of the deceased soldiers did spring up especially after Bush called up and deployed all those reservists. MARTIN: Can you talk to me about the “why?” You ask this question in the book: why is Lissa so driven to find these lost people that don’t have anything to do with her? Poland, 1941. After the Jews in their town are rounded up, Roza and her five-year-old daughter, Shira, spend day and night hidden in a farmer's barn. Forbidden from making a sound, only the yellow bird from her mother's stories can sing the melodies Shira composes in her head.

An odd thing was how while I read this, I couldn't help but feel as though I was reading a past story of mine. I had a similar idea years ago, which I never finished, and because I'm always incredibly harsh when it comes to my own writing, I wonder if that's why I couldn't give this a full four stars.

When Lissa Yellow Bird was released from prison in 2009, she found her home, the Fort Berthold Indian Reservation in North Dakota, transformed by the Bakken oil boom.

REPOST FROM YESTERDAY (Nov 23rd). For some reason, after posting this review it DISAPPEARED. How does that happen? Lissa’s story rippled in me an awareness of what I was not seeing onscreen. Where are the indigenous stories and indigenous female stories? The book inspired me to take a deeper look into the indigenous female filmmaker community who are telling these stories. Read my profile with these filmmakers, and coming soon is my interview with indigenous filmmaker Erica Tremblay.

Much of the novel focuses on Bartle's promise to the mother of Murph, a fellow private, to not let him die in the war. Bartle and Murph also make a pact not to be the 1,000th casualty in the war. The reader learns in the beginning of the novel, however, that Murph dies in the war. And so I read The Yellow Birds, a novel that is haunting, lyrical, and radiates the pain of taking part in and being witness to slaughter. Written by Kevin Powers (himself an Iraq War veteran), the novel is told using first person point of view, giving our main character, John Bartle, his own voice. In chapters that alternate between his service in Iraq and his painful return home, Bartle internally explores his own guilt and emotional agony over the brutal and inexplicable loss of his friend, Murphy, and the role he himself may have played in the incident. When seeing other mothers with their children, “Something breaks loose inside Roza and skitters down the stairs of her heart.”

Shira's imagination flutters and darts and her body pulses with song". She came from a musical family. Grandpa was a luthier, crafting violins in his workshop. Roz played cello and Natan played violin. Roz invented "silent counting contests...Shira [was] tapping out her music, what seem like full-blown symphonies she can hardly keep contained". Roz constructed a sleepy time routine. Each night, she would whisper their nighttime story about a five year old girl who tended an enchanted, silent garden. The girl was helped by her imaginary, bright, yellow bird. "Some giants don't like flowers, and because they believe the music in our voices helps the flowers grow, we must never let the giants hear our songs...[a bird can sing] so long as we stay silent." Lissa Yellow Bird cannot explain why she went looking for Kristopher Clarke. The first time I asked her the question, she paused as if I had caught her by surprise, and then she said, "I guess I never really thought about it before." For someone so insatiably curious about the world, she is remarkably uncurious about herself. She is less interested in why she has done something than in the fact of having done it. Once, she asked me in reply if the answer even mattered. People tended to wonder all kinds of things about her: Why did she have five children with five different men? Why had she become an addict and then a drug dealer when she was capable of anything else? Both heartwarming and heart-wrenching, The Yellow Bird sings a song of hope for humanity in its darkest moments. Róza’s whispered storytelling and music memories keep Shira distracted when they need to be silent. The Yellow Bird sings the music in Shira’s imagination and is the tenuous thread that bonds her to Róza. The Yellow Bird allows hope to take flight in the midst of stark desperation. I want to start out by being honest with you. I am conflicted about this one. This is a story about the Iraq war. It was a finalist for the National Book Awards, and one of the New York Times 10 beAuthor Jennifer Rosner tells an extraordinary story with beautiful use of language; her words and phrases are visual and powerful…. In her absence, the landscape had been altered beyond recognition, her tribal government swayed by corporate interests, and her community burdened by a surge in violence and addiction. Any book that takes place during WWII will undeniably break my heart and keep me emotional long time after finishing it. The Yellow Bird Sings is no different. This is a historical fiction at its best! Captivating, heart wrenching but at the same time hopeful. A story of love, loss, courage, and unbreakable bond between mother and daughter. Written in a beautiful prose with wonderfully developed characters, The Yellow Bird Sings is a must read for all historical fiction lovers. Who'd have thought WWII and the Holocaust would provide a format to highlight the power of music? I'm not a musician, but I almost felt like one as I read the descriptions of a small child discovering that power within her; of using that power to survive the hardships forced upon her, first in her imagination, and then openly. There are plenty of hardships for her and her mother, but threading through them is their shared love of music, and happier memories. It softens the read.

Roza is hiding in the woods. She needs to make sure that her shoes leave misleading direction if any. There are berries, mushrooms, leaves, roots and such to help her survive in the woods. But when cold winter freezes the grounds, even wood for fire is very sparse. The girl is forbidden from making a sound, so the yellow bird sings. He sings whatever the girl composes in her head: high-pitched trills of piccolo; low-throated growls of contrabassoon. Music helps the flowers bloom.

MARTIN: You spent a lot of time with Lissa. Was there anything you learned or gained during your time with her? This story is about a Jewish mother, her six year old daughter and their relationship during World War II. They are hiding from the Nazis in Poland. Her husband had been executed by the Nazis and her parents had been taken to a ghetto. Roza is a talented musician and Shira is a child protege. Roza makes the hard decision to let Shira go into hiding in an orphanage. Shira makes up stories about a yellow bird that's free to fly away. She also makes up violin music in her mind. When the Germans announce plans to use the farmer’s barn for storage, mother and daughter must find a new safe space right away. TO READ MORE OF THE REVIEW AND REVEALING Q & A WITH THE AUTHOR.... https://booknationbyjen.com/2019/10/2...