The Wolf at the End of the World

Introduction by Charles de Lint

Introduction by Charles de LintNishiyuu, Heroka, & Douglas Smith

IN MARCH 2013 I WAS driving north on Highway 105 with my brother-in-law Paddy. The 105 starts in Hull—just across the river from Ottawa—and goes all the way to Grand Remous where it T’s at the 117. But we were only going as far as Gracefield where I was having some work done on my car at a garage on the highway.

It’s about an hour’s drive. It was cold, the skies were grey and spitting snow. Just outside of Kazabazua, we noticed a straggling line of people walking on the other side of the road. It took me a few moments to realize who they were.

Two months ago, seven Great Whale Cree (six young adults and an older hunter) left Whapmagoostui at the mouth of the Great Whale River, on the border of the Cree and Inuit lands in Quebec’s James Bay Treaty area, and started south in support of Idle No More. They called the 1500-mile trek “The Journey of Nishiyuu” and by the time Paddy and I saw them, the group numbered almost two hundred and they were stretched out along the highway for about a mile or so.

Most of them were young Natives, many of them living close to the original walkers, so they’d come a good distance themselves. They came from Chisasibi, Waswanipi, Missitissini, and other communities in Cree country, and further south from Algonquin communities such as Kitigan Zibi near Maniwaki. Many of them wore white hooded wool parkas with embroidered designs in bright colors. Some wore boots, some just running shoes. Some had staves, decorated with feathers and ribbons, a few carried flags from their respective reserves. They looked tired, but determined.

They were still headed south when I returned driving my own car and I had the urge to get out and walk with them. My heart lifted to see them there—making their point with a peaceful demonstration of heart and hope.

You have to know that it was -40C when they left their home. They had to start out on snowshoes, and some days it was simply too cold to allow their food to defrost so that they could eat. Honestly, I’m surprised they made it through their first week, but they pushed through every hardship, determined to succeed.

It took them another week or so to get to Ottawa. My wife MaryAnn and I went up to Parliament Hill to cheer them on the last leg of the journey. We followed them in through the gates and joined a crowd of hundreds. There was drumming and welcomes called out over the loudspeaker system as the walkers settled in the stands behind a small stage with banners proclaiming “Honour Your Word” and the cameras of the press crowded in front.

Chiefs spoke, greeting and praising the walkers, then the walkers themselves spoke in Cree, explaining what had started them on this journey, what they hoped to accomplish.

But just before that, there was a magical moment when an eagle appeared in the sky over the crowd and circled a few times to our cheers and the pounding of drums before it flew on over the river and disappeared from sight.

It reappeared later in the afternoon—still magnificent—for another circuit of the sky above the Hill, but nothing could quite replace that initial fly-by. You could feel the spirits paying attention. You could almost hear the low murmur of thunder coming from the Gatineau Hills, across the river and beyond Hull.

And everything else faded away for a long moment—from the city going about its business behind us and anything that made us individual.

For a moment, we were all one.

~~~

I REALIZE THIS MIGHT SEEM a long and unrelated preamble to my introducing Douglas Smith’s newest novel, but there were many moments while reading The Wolf at the End of the World when I felt that same magical moment that I did when the eagle made its first regal appearance at the end of the Nishiyuu Walkers’ journey.

And the walkers weren’t simply supporting the Idle No More movement. Their journey was also a way to draw attention to their culture, to the stories and legacy of the Cree, and the plight in which the present-day Cree people find themselves as governments and big business roll over their cultural needs.

Doug tackles these same issues in Wolf at the End of the World and that’s what gives the novel its heart, especially since he does it in the best way possible. There are no lectures. The novel never stops for a long discourse. These matters are simply part of the story, in the same way that the plight of the Heroka shapeshifters is, and the machinations of the clandestine government agency that is the Heroka’s enemy.

There are interesting parallels between the Native characters and the Heroka. The fictional government agency has no more empathy for the shapeshifters than the real government had—and unfortunately, it appears still has—for our Native peoples. The Cree have long been the gatekeepers of the North; the government would prefer that they were no more than a footnote in history.

But politics aside, what makes The Wolf at the End of the World such an engrossing read are the characters and Doug’s wonderful prose, a perfect blend between matter-of-fact and lyricism. I can’t remember the last time I read a book that spoke to me, so eloquently, and so deeply, on so many levels.

~~~

HAVE YOU EVER HAD THAT sense of déja vu when meeting someone for the first time but you feel like you’ve known them for ages? Of course you have. I like it when it happens because as a writer I live a fairly solitary life, but as I go out on a book tour or to a convention, I’m suddenly thrust into the middle of an unfamiliar social whirl. It’s very handy, and comforting, in a situation such as that to have that immediate connection with someone else.

I get it from books, too. From the first page I know—sometimes it’s only a feeling before I’ve even cracked open the cover—that this book is going to be a friend. It’s going to stay with me.

That happened the first time I read the original manuscript of The Wolf at the End of the World. At this point I was only familiar with Doug’s short stories, and yes, a few of them were about the Heroka, and yes, I got the same feeling from those particular stories, especially “Spirit Dance” which went on to inspire this novel, but not with the same intensity.

When I found out there was a novel-length manuscript about the Heroka, I knew I was going to love it and cajoled Doug to let me read it. Happily he did. I’ve now read The Wolf at the End of the World a couple of times and know that I’ll be rereading it in the future because it’s that sort of book. Richly layered and deeply resonant.

An old friend, from the first time you read it.

~~~

IN CLOSING, LET ME JUST mention that to my shame as a Canadian, Prime Minister Harper couldn’t be bothered to be there on Parliament Hill to welcome the Nishiyuu Walkers. He was in Toronto that day, welcoming a couple of Chinese pandas to the zoo—but we all know that big business and money always trumps spirituality, especially when it comes to politicians.

I doubt he’ll read The Wolf at the End of the World either, but if he ever did, I can tell you which side of the arguments Doug raises in his novel that Harper would be on.

It wouldn’t be the same as mine.

—Charles de Lint

Ottawa, Spring 2013