The Blood Runs Like a River Through My Dreams
by Nasdijj, Nasdijj

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Book Reviews of The Blood Runs Like a River Through My Dreams

Book Review: This Story Reminds Us of What a Human Being Is
Summary: 5 Stars

He writes, and writes, and writes. For revenge. So he says. But it is not for revenge. He writes to give his life and our lives validity in a world where value is placed upon money, success, things, and where you're from. He is a gifted writer.

His Navajo half sings, sings the history and tradition of his people. The history is not strung out like some pearl necklace, but compacted layer upon layer, like layers of stone, all that is and ever was of a people.

And now he sings to us in "White People Town". He gives us words. He doesn't know what white people want. He doesn't paint a picture, or give us a plot, or theme. He just tells us his story. But the telling belongs to everyone. He sings to all human beings.

His words are like rocks torn from the mountain. They're covered with blood and bits of bone like they were torn from flesh. His words are torn from the mountain with bare hands. The hands are raw and scraped. Blood from the mountain and hands, glisten on the rocks torn from the mountain. They are all forms and sizes, sharp-edged and round. But they are all torn from the mountain made up from everything that is a human being.

The words are not tossed or scattered, or layed out carefully. But if you turn and look, they show the way to a spiritual refuge, beyond the red orange shimmering haze on the horizon of the desert, beyond the stars. It is not a staircase. It is not a trail. But the words will lead you to a place where you open your eyes. You become awake. Nasdijj takes his fingers and spreads your eyelids wide apart. And now you can see what it is to be a human being, a Navajo, and even a white man. The barriers of culture are not broken down, but crumble to dust under the weight of the rocks.

His words do not fit together easily or "just so". They fit together like rocks torn from the mountain of everything that is human. They are not jumbled. It is not seeing the world or life through another's eyes. You are his eyes. He doesn't make you a Navajo. The Navajo are you.

I hold the book between my hands. It is not big. It is only paper, and ink, and some glue. But those pages between my hands have tears and sadness in them. The kind of tears that stream down your face and the pain seems unending. There is great beauty and happiness in these pages also. The kind of beauty that makes everything seem motionless and you are not aware of anything but the beauty. The book also has hunger, toughness, love, compassion, fear, loneliness, and songs. The book has no life of it's own. It doesn't hum, pulsate, or resonate. But everything is there, you do not have to search for any meaning. Read it and your eyes will open and you will see everything. It will make you feel whole and hungry for more at the same time.

Nasdijj tell us more. Pull some more rocks from the mountain. You are building a temple for us all.

This is a beautiful book, a real treasure.

Summary of The Blood Runs Like a River Through My Dreams

Native American Books

• Books > Subjects > Biographies & Memoirs > Ethnic & National
• Memoirs
• Specific Groups > Special Needs
• Health, Fitness & Dieting > Death & Grief > Grief & Bereavement
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