You Don't Have to Say You Love Me
In the National Book Award–winning novelist and poet's stunning memoir, poetry and prose produce a literary mash-up that is part chronicle of life on the Spokane reservation, part eulogy to his mother. As Alexie travels through the "trust fund / Of words" left to him—his parents were prolific storytellers—he weaves recollections of white missionaries, multiple brain surgeries, addiction, mental illness and love into a work that is at once ode and elegy. Evident throughout are humor and rage, respect and loving irreverence. "Am I dancing on my mother's grave?" he teases. "Of course I am! Now shut up and listen to the song."