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A review by frasersimons
Nishga by Jordan Abel
5.0
Essentially a presentation of Abel’s identity, and struggle therein, this book uses a few different formats and structures to fully encapsulate everything he is saying. And it is honestly incredibly affecting and an amazing thing to consume; especially as it progresses and things become more clear.
There are transcripts of a lecture he has done, as well as, at the end, a really helpful transcript of his dissertation defence. But throughout it there are also mixed media set pieces displayed as you would see them at a gallery viewing. Beside them are “notes”, again as you would read them for context at such an event. Only they are his lived experience, very epistolary in nature.
And so you initially can’t make that much sense of the object beyond a unique aesthetic. (Or at least, I couldn’t). There is a graphic, clearly indigenous superimposed over text. Sometimes things appear redacted. Always there is never the full context. There is text in the background, or sometimes it fills the superimposed image. Though other times they’re filled with photographs, conforming to the image dimensions, against redacting the full context of the image.
As you consume it, you are told what the text is and why everything is the way it is. What this means, ultimately, and what Abel is expressing, is unique, unconventional, and, perhaps ironically, provides so much context for what he is trying to get across to the reader, I feel like “trying to get across” would be an understatement. I think you might have to intentionally misconstrue it, if you didn’t understand the breadth of what is on these pages. If only because of how much additional support there is than, say, a memoir or biography, or something conventional.
The transcripts go so far as to have time codes. At the time, I wasn’t sure why. But as you read, you actually fall into the time gaps and can feel the pulse of it, noting the seconds elapsed and the formatting that moves one paragraph onto the second line to denote the seconds passing. It’s surprisingly immersive. What’s more is it feels right. Abel isn’t simply producing the same theses, he is tailoring it to the form and function of the medium of the book; while subtly communicating the amount of time, in this case, years, he has been speaking about this and trying to come to grips with his identity. At least one lecture is years old.
The subject is a springboard into some of the most complex and difficult issues to unpack in Canada. And the people who have to sort it are the people impacted by it. Indigenous people like Abel were displaced from family and their culture. The irreparable harm residential schools have had is such that even people fully grown, and now scholars, are still grappling with it. And so Abel’s Nishga is about much larger things than himself.
It is crushing and in inexcusable that the marginalized and traumatized have to produce their pain to make people listen and engage with the issues. But it seems to be the only way white people ever speak about these things. This country and our systems and institutions are proud to embody the exact definition of insanity. Abel speaks about the cost of producing this artifact on his personhood. The least I think people could do is read it. As others have said: it should be required reading material. Here in Alberta, when I was a kid, residential schools weren’t mentioned at all.
There are transcripts of a lecture he has done, as well as, at the end, a really helpful transcript of his dissertation defence. But throughout it there are also mixed media set pieces displayed as you would see them at a gallery viewing. Beside them are “notes”, again as you would read them for context at such an event. Only they are his lived experience, very epistolary in nature.
And so you initially can’t make that much sense of the object beyond a unique aesthetic. (Or at least, I couldn’t). There is a graphic, clearly indigenous superimposed over text. Sometimes things appear redacted. Always there is never the full context. There is text in the background, or sometimes it fills the superimposed image. Though other times they’re filled with photographs, conforming to the image dimensions, against redacting the full context of the image.
As you consume it, you are told what the text is and why everything is the way it is. What this means, ultimately, and what Abel is expressing, is unique, unconventional, and, perhaps ironically, provides so much context for what he is trying to get across to the reader, I feel like “trying to get across” would be an understatement. I think you might have to intentionally misconstrue it, if you didn’t understand the breadth of what is on these pages. If only because of how much additional support there is than, say, a memoir or biography, or something conventional.
The transcripts go so far as to have time codes. At the time, I wasn’t sure why. But as you read, you actually fall into the time gaps and can feel the pulse of it, noting the seconds elapsed and the formatting that moves one paragraph onto the second line to denote the seconds passing. It’s surprisingly immersive. What’s more is it feels right. Abel isn’t simply producing the same theses, he is tailoring it to the form and function of the medium of the book; while subtly communicating the amount of time, in this case, years, he has been speaking about this and trying to come to grips with his identity. At least one lecture is years old.
The subject is a springboard into some of the most complex and difficult issues to unpack in Canada. And the people who have to sort it are the people impacted by it. Indigenous people like Abel were displaced from family and their culture. The irreparable harm residential schools have had is such that even people fully grown, and now scholars, are still grappling with it. And so Abel’s Nishga is about much larger things than himself.
It is crushing and in inexcusable that the marginalized and traumatized have to produce their pain to make people listen and engage with the issues. But it seems to be the only way white people ever speak about these things. This country and our systems and institutions are proud to embody the exact definition of insanity. Abel speaks about the cost of producing this artifact on his personhood. The least I think people could do is read it. As others have said: it should be required reading material. Here in Alberta, when I was a kid, residential schools weren’t mentioned at all.