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Carry: A Memoir of Survival on Stolen Land
A powerful, poetic memoir about what it means to exist as an indigenous woman in America, told in snapshots of the author’s encounters with gun violence.
Toni Jensen grew up around guns: As a girl, she learned to shoot birds in rural Iowa with her father, a card-carrying member of the NRA. As an adult, she’s had guns waved in her face near Standing Rock, and felt their silent threat on the concealed-carry campus where she teaches. And she has always known that in this she is not alone. As a Métis woman, she is no stranger to the violence enacted on the bodies of indigenous women, on indigenous land, and the ways it is hidden, ignored, forgotten.
In Carry, Jensen maps her personal experience onto the historical, exploring how history is lived in the body and redefining the language we use to speak about violence in America. In the title chapter, Jensen connects the trauma of school shootings with her own experiences of racism and sexual assault on college campuses. "The Worry Line" explores the gun and gang violence in her neighborhood the year her daughter was born. "At the Workshop" focuses on her graduate school years, during which a workshop classmate repeatedly killed off thinly veiled versions of her in his stories. In "Women in the Fracklands", Jensen takes the listener inside Standing Rock during the Dakota Access Pipeline protests and bears witness to the peril faced by women in regions overcome by the fracking boom.
In prose at once forensic and deeply emotional, Toni Jensen shows herself to be a brave new voice and a fearless witness to her own difficult history - as well as to the violent cultural landscape in which she finds her coordinates. With each chapter, Carry reminds us that surviving in one’s country is not the same as surviving one’s country.
Toni Jensen grew up around guns: As a girl, she learned to shoot birds in rural Iowa with her father, a card-carrying member of the NRA. As an adult, she’s had guns waved in her face near Standing Rock, and felt their silent threat on the concealed-carry campus where she teaches. And she has always known that in this she is not alone. As a Métis woman, she is no stranger to the violence enacted on the bodies of indigenous women, on indigenous land, and the ways it is hidden, ignored, forgotten.
In Carry, Jensen maps her personal experience onto the historical, exploring how history is lived in the body and redefining the language we use to speak about violence in America. In the title chapter, Jensen connects the trauma of school shootings with her own experiences of racism and sexual assault on college campuses. "The Worry Line" explores the gun and gang violence in her neighborhood the year her daughter was born. "At the Workshop" focuses on her graduate school years, during which a workshop classmate repeatedly killed off thinly veiled versions of her in his stories. In "Women in the Fracklands", Jensen takes the listener inside Standing Rock during the Dakota Access Pipeline protests and bears witness to the peril faced by women in regions overcome by the fracking boom.
In prose at once forensic and deeply emotional, Toni Jensen shows herself to be a brave new voice and a fearless witness to her own difficult history - as well as to the violent cultural landscape in which she finds her coordinates. With each chapter, Carry reminds us that surviving in one’s country is not the same as surviving one’s country.
304 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 8, 2020
About the author
Toni Jensen
8 books146 followersToni Jensen is the author of Carry, a memoir-in-essays about gun violence, forthcoming from Ballantine. Her essays and stories have been published in journals such as Orion, Catapult and Ecotone, and have been anthologized widely. Her story collection, From the Hilltop, was published through the Native Storiers Series at the University of Nebraska Press. She teaches in the Programs in Creative Writing and Translation at the University of Arkansas and in the Low Residency MFA at the Institute of American Indian Arts. She is Métis.
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July 4, 2021
4★
“The men sway across the lot, drunk-loud, and one says to the other, ‘Hey, look at that,’ and you are the only that there. When the other replies, ‘No, I like the one in my room just fine,’ you are sorry and grateful for the one in an unequal measure.
Sixteen essays, stories, memories, history. Toni Jensen writes passionately about her America, from where she’s lived in Texas to Pittsburgh to Florida, Arkansas and places in between, including protesting at Standing Rock where these drunken men are. She’s a writer who teaches writing, and she’s a Métis (mixed) who can pass for white and realises that gives her a privilege that darker women don’t have.
“This isn’t a story, then, so much about being Indian in America or even being Métis in America. It’s a story about being those things and striving toward whiteness; it’s about the cost of that striving.”
Author Toni Jensen, from her homepage, tonijensen.com
She writes well and in different voices, but they are all her voice, even the opening excerpt, which is written in the second person – you. When ‘you’ drive the car, trying to dodge these men who are laws unto themselves, you can feel the terror of being a lone woman, particularly a Métis woman, in a place where the motel rooms are supplied with ‘the one in my room’.
There are people who try to help trace the traffickers. Because of television and news, I tend to be more aware of the girls and women being abducted or enticed (with false promises) from eastern European countries to the UK and elsewhere. In fact, I believe every country has its ‘underclass’ who are trapped and traded. She writes about her contribution to the tracing.
“In each place, each frackland, off each road, you wait until checkout to upload the photos of the rooms. In the year and a half of driving and talking and driving and talking, if you’ve learned nothing else, you’ve learned to wait. Because it is very, very difficult to sleep in a hotel room once you learn a woman’s gone missing from it.”
If you’re interested in how everyday tourists can help, here’s a link
Link to CNN article from 2017 about traffickcam
On the other hand, in another story, she knows her heritage has probably been a positive factor in her getting the job as a writing teacher.
“I had been hired, in part, because I was Métis, yes, and though no one said this aloud, all my invitations to faculty or donor events were occasions for people to query me about my Indianness, to query me about social or racial issues about which they felt a real, true Indian would have opinions. It was part of what was making me tired already.”
The stories are varied, but there is a recurring theme of abuse, mistrust, alcoholism, drug use, violence, guns, and poverty. I have to say I didn’t get much of a feeling of love, although there is definitely care and concern. There’s nothing much warm and fuzzy.
Jensen uses repetition to good effect, repeating initial clauses to introduce examples or thoughts to emphasise them. This is a long paragraph about her best girlfriend from school.
“Before we lose her, she will run track in the Junior Olympics. Her times will be close to qualifying her for the regular Olympics. Before we lose her, she will start with drinking and graduate to pills and return to drinking. Before we lose her, she will travel the world playing for the American Basketball League. Before we lose her, she will be the one I tell about my father, about what goes on inside our house. Before we lose her, she will be part and parcel of how I leave this place, and I will be complicit in how she does not. Before we lose her, I will be one of the first to take her to a party, to hand her a glass.”
To hand her a glass. It is an effective lead-up, isn’t it? We have the promise and the eventual downfall.
Other recurrences are birds and stained glass windows, which appear in many stories. In some, birds are featured (hunting, farming, bird-watching). Stained glass, on the other hand, seems to be mentioned as a welcome or redeeming feature in a otherwise uninteresting houses, and the light that filters through plays on walls, holding a baby’s attention.
I don’t think this is a metaphor for rose-coloured glasses, but I do get the impression that the stained glass and its effect on light somehow softens a bit of the ugliness of life. Gun violence is part of that ugliness. (Note the effective repetition again.)
“This year, in spring 2018, in the first week of classes, according to a new law, anyone who’s licensed can come to Kimpel Hall carrying a handgun, to my office, Kimpel 221, carrying a handgun, to my classroom carrying a handgun.”
I think the stories are more or less chronological, but within each she will refer back to incidents from her earlier life. She will speak of her “then-husband” (her “daughter’s father”) and then go back to their youth and talk about when one left to go to college. The general flow is natural.
Jensen writes about the legacy of being physically abused as a child, but she doesn’t elaborate on the details. It’s enough to know the kind of man her father was. She seems an interesting woman with a unique perspective on American life.
When I was a kid growing up in the States, the most we were aware of about “Indians” was a few tribal names from movies (Apaches, Cherokees, Navajo), some place names and works of art. A book like this is a valuable addition to make people like me more aware of the continued ignorance about and appalling treatment of First Nations people.
I read a fair bit by Australian aboriginal writers, but not by American indigenous writers. I hope this is getting plenty of publicity. I also hope (and expect) that Jensen will maintain her rage and continue the fight.
Thanks to NetGalley and Ballantine Books / Random House for the preview copy from which I've quoted.
“The men sway across the lot, drunk-loud, and one says to the other, ‘Hey, look at that,’ and you are the only that there. When the other replies, ‘No, I like the one in my room just fine,’ you are sorry and grateful for the one in an unequal measure.
Sixteen essays, stories, memories, history. Toni Jensen writes passionately about her America, from where she’s lived in Texas to Pittsburgh to Florida, Arkansas and places in between, including protesting at Standing Rock where these drunken men are. She’s a writer who teaches writing, and she’s a Métis (mixed) who can pass for white and realises that gives her a privilege that darker women don’t have.
“This isn’t a story, then, so much about being Indian in America or even being Métis in America. It’s a story about being those things and striving toward whiteness; it’s about the cost of that striving.”
Author Toni Jensen, from her homepage, tonijensen.com
She writes well and in different voices, but they are all her voice, even the opening excerpt, which is written in the second person – you. When ‘you’ drive the car, trying to dodge these men who are laws unto themselves, you can feel the terror of being a lone woman, particularly a Métis woman, in a place where the motel rooms are supplied with ‘the one in my room’.
There are people who try to help trace the traffickers. Because of television and news, I tend to be more aware of the girls and women being abducted or enticed (with false promises) from eastern European countries to the UK and elsewhere. In fact, I believe every country has its ‘underclass’ who are trapped and traded. She writes about her contribution to the tracing.
“In each place, each frackland, off each road, you wait until checkout to upload the photos of the rooms. In the year and a half of driving and talking and driving and talking, if you’ve learned nothing else, you’ve learned to wait. Because it is very, very difficult to sleep in a hotel room once you learn a woman’s gone missing from it.”
If you’re interested in how everyday tourists can help, here’s a link
Link to CNN article from 2017 about traffickcam
On the other hand, in another story, she knows her heritage has probably been a positive factor in her getting the job as a writing teacher.
“I had been hired, in part, because I was Métis, yes, and though no one said this aloud, all my invitations to faculty or donor events were occasions for people to query me about my Indianness, to query me about social or racial issues about which they felt a real, true Indian would have opinions. It was part of what was making me tired already.”
The stories are varied, but there is a recurring theme of abuse, mistrust, alcoholism, drug use, violence, guns, and poverty. I have to say I didn’t get much of a feeling of love, although there is definitely care and concern. There’s nothing much warm and fuzzy.
Jensen uses repetition to good effect, repeating initial clauses to introduce examples or thoughts to emphasise them. This is a long paragraph about her best girlfriend from school.
“Before we lose her, she will run track in the Junior Olympics. Her times will be close to qualifying her for the regular Olympics. Before we lose her, she will start with drinking and graduate to pills and return to drinking. Before we lose her, she will travel the world playing for the American Basketball League. Before we lose her, she will be the one I tell about my father, about what goes on inside our house. Before we lose her, she will be part and parcel of how I leave this place, and I will be complicit in how she does not. Before we lose her, I will be one of the first to take her to a party, to hand her a glass.”
To hand her a glass. It is an effective lead-up, isn’t it? We have the promise and the eventual downfall.
Other recurrences are birds and stained glass windows, which appear in many stories. In some, birds are featured (hunting, farming, bird-watching). Stained glass, on the other hand, seems to be mentioned as a welcome or redeeming feature in a otherwise uninteresting houses, and the light that filters through plays on walls, holding a baby’s attention.
I don’t think this is a metaphor for rose-coloured glasses, but I do get the impression that the stained glass and its effect on light somehow softens a bit of the ugliness of life. Gun violence is part of that ugliness. (Note the effective repetition again.)
“This year, in spring 2018, in the first week of classes, according to a new law, anyone who’s licensed can come to Kimpel Hall carrying a handgun, to my office, Kimpel 221, carrying a handgun, to my classroom carrying a handgun.”
I think the stories are more or less chronological, but within each she will refer back to incidents from her earlier life. She will speak of her “then-husband” (her “daughter’s father”) and then go back to their youth and talk about when one left to go to college. The general flow is natural.
Jensen writes about the legacy of being physically abused as a child, but she doesn’t elaborate on the details. It’s enough to know the kind of man her father was. She seems an interesting woman with a unique perspective on American life.
When I was a kid growing up in the States, the most we were aware of about “Indians” was a few tribal names from movies (Apaches, Cherokees, Navajo), some place names and works of art. A book like this is a valuable addition to make people like me more aware of the continued ignorance about and appalling treatment of First Nations people.
I read a fair bit by Australian aboriginal writers, but not by American indigenous writers. I hope this is getting plenty of publicity. I also hope (and expect) that Jensen will maintain her rage and continue the fight.
Thanks to NetGalley and Ballantine Books / Random House for the preview copy from which I've quoted.
September 8, 2020
Happy publication day! September 8th, 2020.
Sometimes rating and reviewing a memoir can be really difficult. Who am I to judge someone’s life story? I almost was unable to rate this but settled with the 3 stars. While I enjoyed Carry by Toni Jensen, there were some parts of the writing and layout that didn’t quite work out for me but I will start with what I liked.
Toni Jensen is an indigenous woman from the Métis tribe in particular but is white passing. I don’t see much indigenous representation out there (including white passing) so I really loved that! Jensen speaks about her experiences in sisterhood, parenting, and friendship. She also speaks about the relevant topics such as gun violence, police brutality, and racism. These topics are always important to discuss and read about and I thought her experiences were hearting stopping or goosebump inducing.
Now what I didn’t like is that this is more of a collection of essays about her experiences. I would preferred a chronological order of events and how one thing lead to another. The order made it feel jumbled and disorganized. There are a lot of Webster definitions peppered throughout the book and I found it rather distracting and repetitive. I understand what point the author was trying to make but after I hit the 20% mark, I thought it overused. There is no doubt that Jensen can write, I found myself highlighting a LOT of quotes.
Overall, I do think this is a relevant and important read due to the topics that are being discussed and I would have enjoyed it a lot more if the layout was different. Thank you so much to the author, the publisher, and Netgalley for the advanced copy of this book!
Sometimes rating and reviewing a memoir can be really difficult. Who am I to judge someone’s life story? I almost was unable to rate this but settled with the 3 stars. While I enjoyed Carry by Toni Jensen, there were some parts of the writing and layout that didn’t quite work out for me but I will start with what I liked.
Toni Jensen is an indigenous woman from the Métis tribe in particular but is white passing. I don’t see much indigenous representation out there (including white passing) so I really loved that! Jensen speaks about her experiences in sisterhood, parenting, and friendship. She also speaks about the relevant topics such as gun violence, police brutality, and racism. These topics are always important to discuss and read about and I thought her experiences were hearting stopping or goosebump inducing.
Now what I didn’t like is that this is more of a collection of essays about her experiences. I would preferred a chronological order of events and how one thing lead to another. The order made it feel jumbled and disorganized. There are a lot of Webster definitions peppered throughout the book and I found it rather distracting and repetitive. I understand what point the author was trying to make but after I hit the 20% mark, I thought it overused. There is no doubt that Jensen can write, I found myself highlighting a LOT of quotes.
Overall, I do think this is a relevant and important read due to the topics that are being discussed and I would have enjoyed it a lot more if the layout was different. Thank you so much to the author, the publisher, and Netgalley for the advanced copy of this book!
November 29, 2020
"It is all heartbreak, at least if you've given over your heart."
- Toni Jensen, Carry
Certainly this is a memoir. Certainly it is a collection of essays. But Toni Jensen's book is way more complicated than that. Its prose beats with a poetic cadence. It is poetic both in its construction and its precision. Toni uses repetition to create almost a chant, a heartbeat, a lyrical prayer to tie the book's themes together. She is reporting on the familiar. That is the scary thing. We have, through lazy language and a shared dissimulation, ignored the violence that is our history and our present. We talk about it. But we also talk around it. We like to pretend this violence is exceptional. We like to feel like it is not the rule. Jensen shows us, however, through her experience and her refusal to buy into the familiar tropes, the signs that exist (both literal and figurative). We are a violent country. We have a gun problem.
One of the ways she ties this book's essays together is through her use of Webster's Dictionary. Her use of the dictionary does a couple things. First, through multiple definitions for a word, Toni is able to link the various themes in the book. She also uses the dictionary as a way to show that this is a memoir (of essays) as much about the language of violence as it is about those who are hurt by violence and those who do the hurting. We need to name things well. We need to be aware when the naming of things is being used to obfuscate, to misdirect, to disengage.
Finally, and more subtly, Toni is showing us how language is one of the ways we can protect ourselves. Words matter. Stories matter. Perspective matter. Giving voice to those who are hurt in our country matters. A dictionary isn't going to solve every problem, but it might just stop one bullet. Language might give one girl a refuge.
- Toni Jensen, Carry
Certainly this is a memoir. Certainly it is a collection of essays. But Toni Jensen's book is way more complicated than that. Its prose beats with a poetic cadence. It is poetic both in its construction and its precision. Toni uses repetition to create almost a chant, a heartbeat, a lyrical prayer to tie the book's themes together. She is reporting on the familiar. That is the scary thing. We have, through lazy language and a shared dissimulation, ignored the violence that is our history and our present. We talk about it. But we also talk around it. We like to pretend this violence is exceptional. We like to feel like it is not the rule. Jensen shows us, however, through her experience and her refusal to buy into the familiar tropes, the signs that exist (both literal and figurative). We are a violent country. We have a gun problem.
One of the ways she ties this book's essays together is through her use of Webster's Dictionary. Her use of the dictionary does a couple things. First, through multiple definitions for a word, Toni is able to link the various themes in the book. She also uses the dictionary as a way to show that this is a memoir (of essays) as much about the language of violence as it is about those who are hurt by violence and those who do the hurting. We need to name things well. We need to be aware when the naming of things is being used to obfuscate, to misdirect, to disengage.
Finally, and more subtly, Toni is showing us how language is one of the ways we can protect ourselves. Words matter. Stories matter. Perspective matter. Giving voice to those who are hurt in our country matters. A dictionary isn't going to solve every problem, but it might just stop one bullet. Language might give one girl a refuge.
September 8, 2020
ARC was provided by NetGalley and Ballantine Books in exchanged for an honest review.
This review is being published before the release date (September 8th, 2020)
Content/Trigger Warnings: Police brutality, gun violence, violence, homicide, racism, microaggressions, talk of human trafficking, assault, rape, domestic violence, child abuse, animal abuse, harassment, mentions of murder, death, historical and cultural trauma, alcoholism, drug abuse, mentions of PTSD, and so much more!
Wow, this memoir is so, so powerful. Friends, I’m shaken and I can’t put enough emphasis on how important it is for you to practice self-care while reading this memoir. I know I have the content warnings listed above, but there’s literally content warnings for anything and everything you can think of. If I had been in a better head space, I would have finished this memoir a lot faster than the time it took me to actual finish.
Carry: A Memoir of Survival on Stolen Land is a memoir in the form of essays. These essays are a wide range of topics from domestic violence to police brutality and so many more. There’s a large plethora of topics, each one packed with emotions and hardships. You also see many major events that have happened throughout the years like the DAPL protests, the brutal murders of George Floyd, Trayvon Martin, and many others who lost their lives from police brutality. Again, I can’t stress enough how important it is to practice self-care while reading this book. All of these essays are through the author’s own experiences as a Métis woman, as a survivor. Jensen has a way of writing these essays to convey the weight of each topic. Probably the most unique thing throughout this whole book is the emphasis of language. The importance of language and how language has the power to change everything.
“In other words, like the birds, in many ways, I’ve come a long way to see a place much like one I already know—I’ve come a long way to find another version of home.”
I’m usually not someone who reads a lot of memoirs, biographies, autobiographies, etc… Usually due to never really connecting with the book or the things talked about. Plus, it’s not my place to really comment about someone else’s experiences. However, this memoir… I was sobbing and there were many parts of this memoir that I personally connected to because of surviving my own experiences of violence and hardships. The narration is beautiful, it reads very smoothly, and flows with general ease. I think the only issue I had with this book was some of the timeline jumping. There were parts where I had to reread the section to remember where in the timeline we were. So that was my only issue with the memoir. Otherwise, it was really easy to get sucked into this book.
Overall, this was a great read. I truly think if I had been in a better head space, I would have flown through this this memoir. So again, please practice self-care because there’s content and trigger warnings for anything, and everything in this book. If you are in the right head space, I highly recommend picking this up especially if you’re trying to see the world and the events of the world through a different perspective than you own. There’s a lot of raw emotions throughout this book and it’s not an easy read, but one that’s needed.
The quotes above were taken from an ARC and are subject to change upon publication.
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September 6, 2020
2.5 stars Thanks to the Marketing Manager | Random House Group | Penguin Random House for the chance to read and review this ARC and to NetGalley for the download.
How do you critique a memoir? You don't. A persons life and their thoughts about their life are theirs to own. So how do you review a memoir? You can't critique a memoir, but you can critique the manner in which it was written.
I had a problem with this memoir. To me it felt disjointed, a bit hit and miss. There were sections that I enjoyed and then parts that left me scratching my head, wondering how they even fit in to the story. In addition this author felt the need to give definitions for specific words from the Merriam Webster Collegiate Dictionary, not as a footnote, but right within the text, which for me, broke up the rhythm of the story.
The crux of the story was balanced on violence - mostly domestic violence but also included murder and suicide, as the author recounted her life. It also spoke to the cost of being a Native American in a white American society.
For me, this was not a good read. It read in fits - starts and stops, interruptions and often the topics changed abruptly, sometimes within the same paragraph. So without critiquing the life of this author I can speak, in my opinion, on how the story was presented, and for me the presentation did not make for a clear concise understandable story.
How do you critique a memoir? You don't. A persons life and their thoughts about their life are theirs to own. So how do you review a memoir? You can't critique a memoir, but you can critique the manner in which it was written.
I had a problem with this memoir. To me it felt disjointed, a bit hit and miss. There were sections that I enjoyed and then parts that left me scratching my head, wondering how they even fit in to the story. In addition this author felt the need to give definitions for specific words from the Merriam Webster Collegiate Dictionary, not as a footnote, but right within the text, which for me, broke up the rhythm of the story.
The crux of the story was balanced on violence - mostly domestic violence but also included murder and suicide, as the author recounted her life. It also spoke to the cost of being a Native American in a white American society.
For me, this was not a good read. It read in fits - starts and stops, interruptions and often the topics changed abruptly, sometimes within the same paragraph. So without critiquing the life of this author I can speak, in my opinion, on how the story was presented, and for me the presentation did not make for a clear concise understandable story.
October 7, 2020
When I first picked up Carry I thought it was going to be about Jensen's experience as an indigenous woman with gun violence. To some extent that is what it is, but Carry is also about violence against women, children, animals and as she discusses fracking, the raping and pillaging of the land. Through these essays Jensen correlates different forms of violence and provides evidence of how one type of violence breeds another. We have seen on the news how peaceful protests at the Dakota Access pipeline have turned violent when police entered in riot gear to remove the protesters. Water cannons fired. Attack dogs were sicced. Tear gas was sprayed. Rubber bullets were shot. Tasers stunned.
But this was not the beginning nor the end of the violence at Standing Rock. Jensen discusses how these construction projects serve as a hub for human trafficking with native bodies being reduced to commerce.
"Indigenous women are almost three times more likely than other women to be harrassed, to be raped, to be sexually assaulted, to be called a that there."
She also drives this message home using statistics about abuse. People found guilty of animal cruelty tend to be domestic abusers as well. None of their loved ones are untouched. Whether they are a witness or victim, violence leaves its scars. To which Jensen addresses violence against oneself in the form of chemical addiction. Drugs, in this sense, can be used as a means to get through pain but also to inflict pain.
Carry was a heavy load to bear (pun intended). Because of my own anxiety I had to put it down at times. I couldn't let myself steep in the book and all of the emotions it wrought. Yet I have to say it is very well written. Despite all the violence and triggers, there is a sort of poetry to Jensen's words. As we navigate through these spaces and the fear that is perpetuated through the systemic violence against brown and black people, the lesson is realizing that the cycle of abuse is not just something that can be applied to dysfunctional households. Violence permeates our society and trickles down. It's a disease that we need to be more vigilant about finding a cure.
September 5, 2020
I am struggling with this review. The book has left me open and raw and angry and sad and deep in memories I never, ever, wanted to revisit [and thought I had dealt with, but apparently, I have just shoved them into one of those compartmentalized boxes in my brain and moved on], and it has also made me so incredibly angry and sad for the author. Even though she has worked through a lot of what happened to her in the past, how does one ever move on from that kind of trauma? And she cannot ever erase [nor should she even want to] that she is Métis and proud of that [as she and everyone else that is, should be], even when it works against her. And it infuriates me that she even has to defend that she is proud of her heritage [I just cannot with ignorant people anymore]; but I also truly admire her; what she has been able to accomplish in SPITE of all the things that happened to her [abuse is insidious and permeates every part of your being and being able to move away from that and have even a partly normal life is amazing to me and I am in awe of her] and BECAUSE of the things that have happened to her. And even while you are wallowed in these stories, there is also admiration; she is winning. She may not think that at times, but to me, she is winning. And I admire her even more for that.
Reading this brutal [because it IS brutal] book has made me realize that sometimes important books need to be brutal. And this is an important book. Even in that it is brutal and unhappy and anger-inducing and there is not a typical "happy ending" [or what the world classifies as happy ending], it needs to be read. It should be required reading. And it made me realize I need to change a couple ratings on some books I recently read. Just because a book is brutal and sad and bothers me, doesn't mean that it deserves less than 5 stars and that it isn't important. THIS book made me realize that. And I am grateful for that lesson [and I may or may not have learned this lesson before and have forgotten it - sometimes being uncomfortable makes you forget how important being uncomfortable is and how change only comes from people being uncomfortable].
You need to know [if you have not picked up on this already], this is not a happy book. Not even remotely. Filled with stories of her childhood and life, mixed with current [and not so current] events and a TON of dictionary definitions as well as statistics that will make your toes curl and your stomach contents curdle, there is little that is happy. And the things that are, you just grab at and cling to [ANYTIME she talks about her daughter is just a ray of sunshine and I loved every mention of her because you can tell she brings her mother such joy]. You need to know that if you have had trauma of any kind in your life, there will be moments that this book is extremely difficult to read. Please know, there is no shame in skipping sections, stopping for awhile, or for forever. Everyone who has had trauma in their lives deals with books/movies/life about trauma differently and you have to do what is best for you. I powered through, but there have been moments since last night that I have wondered if that was wise. And I am not sure how I will shove all that came out with this book back into the compartmentalized boxes that they belong in. You do what you need to do for you. And this book might not be for you, but then again, it just might be for you and be the very thing you need to move forward. Because for all its brutality and unhappiness, there IS a thread of hope throughout this. Hope for healing. Hope for the future [even in the midst of all that is happening]. Hope that she will never, ever, have to defend who and what she is E V E R again. And that those who are also Metis [and POC. And Native American. And. And. AND.] will never, ever have to defend who and what they are E V E R again. And that hope just might be exactly what you need.
Thank you to NetGalley and Random House Publishing - Ballantine/Ballantine Books for providing this ARC in exchange for an honest review.
Reading this brutal [because it IS brutal] book has made me realize that sometimes important books need to be brutal. And this is an important book. Even in that it is brutal and unhappy and anger-inducing and there is not a typical "happy ending" [or what the world classifies as happy ending], it needs to be read. It should be required reading. And it made me realize I need to change a couple ratings on some books I recently read. Just because a book is brutal and sad and bothers me, doesn't mean that it deserves less than 5 stars and that it isn't important. THIS book made me realize that. And I am grateful for that lesson [and I may or may not have learned this lesson before and have forgotten it - sometimes being uncomfortable makes you forget how important being uncomfortable is and how change only comes from people being uncomfortable].
You need to know [if you have not picked up on this already], this is not a happy book. Not even remotely. Filled with stories of her childhood and life, mixed with current [and not so current] events and a TON of dictionary definitions as well as statistics that will make your toes curl and your stomach contents curdle, there is little that is happy. And the things that are, you just grab at and cling to [ANYTIME she talks about her daughter is just a ray of sunshine and I loved every mention of her because you can tell she brings her mother such joy]. You need to know that if you have had trauma of any kind in your life, there will be moments that this book is extremely difficult to read. Please know, there is no shame in skipping sections, stopping for awhile, or for forever. Everyone who has had trauma in their lives deals with books/movies/life about trauma differently and you have to do what is best for you. I powered through, but there have been moments since last night that I have wondered if that was wise. And I am not sure how I will shove all that came out with this book back into the compartmentalized boxes that they belong in. You do what you need to do for you. And this book might not be for you, but then again, it just might be for you and be the very thing you need to move forward. Because for all its brutality and unhappiness, there IS a thread of hope throughout this. Hope for healing. Hope for the future [even in the midst of all that is happening]. Hope that she will never, ever, have to defend who and what she is E V E R again. And that those who are also Metis [and POC. And Native American. And. And. AND.] will never, ever have to defend who and what they are E V E R again. And that hope just might be exactly what you need.
Thank you to NetGalley and Random House Publishing - Ballantine/Ballantine Books for providing this ARC in exchange for an honest review.
August 12, 2020
Carry is a collection of essays about Toni Jensen’s experiences with many forms of violence, including domestic and gang, while focusing on gun violence and its personal and historical impact.
While it was engaging, I didn’t realize beforehand that it's a series of interconnected essays, which made the timeline disjointed and at times it felt like info-dumping with statistics and dictionary definitions. The essay format made the book lack that feeling of connection I usually find and appreciate in memoir. The writing was powerful at times, especially as Jensen discussed her complicated relationship with her father.
Ultimately, I don’t consider this a memoir but a collection of essays on gun violence with personal side notes; timely and important topics but told with restraint. I would’ve appreciated more of her story than history and statistics.
Thanks to Ballantine Books for offering me an ARC via NetGalley. Carry: A Memoir of Survival on Stolen Land is scheduled for release on September 8, 2020.
For more reviews, visit www.rootsandreads.wordpress.com
While it was engaging, I didn’t realize beforehand that it's a series of interconnected essays, which made the timeline disjointed and at times it felt like info-dumping with statistics and dictionary definitions. The essay format made the book lack that feeling of connection I usually find and appreciate in memoir. The writing was powerful at times, especially as Jensen discussed her complicated relationship with her father.
Ultimately, I don’t consider this a memoir but a collection of essays on gun violence with personal side notes; timely and important topics but told with restraint. I would’ve appreciated more of her story than history and statistics.
Thanks to Ballantine Books for offering me an ARC via NetGalley. Carry: A Memoir of Survival on Stolen Land is scheduled for release on September 8, 2020.
For more reviews, visit www.rootsandreads.wordpress.com
July 6, 2020
Carry: A Memoir on Survival on Stolen Land, by Toni Jensen, is a memoir in essays, on a range of topics but with violence as a common theme. Domestic violence, settler violence; the violence of erasure; the violence of system racism; the violence of classism and white privilege, gun violence, violent crime, drug violence, and police violence. The brutal murder of George Floyd, Trayvon Martin and so many others on the hands of police. All through her own experience as a Métis, as a survivor.
Possibly the most unique characteristic of this work is her emphasis on language, and her dissection of definitions. Language matters. How we represent our ideas and our reality matters. It has the power to change everything; and if there is one thing the reader will take with him/her/they at the end of the book, it might as well be the power of words.
The collection is beautifully narrated, and has a smooth flow to it, though one essay seems divorced from the preceding one, at the end, it all comes together to give us a picture of the America we live in and how it got to be the way it is. How we turned out to be so comfortable with the myth of individualism (even at the expense of public health during a pandemic), un-fact-checked conservatism; to divorcing domestic violence with other forms of violence, like mass shootings and crime to the expense of our women and young; to thinking of Native Americans as expendable, as disappearing. It is painful and sad and real. It is the America we don’t want to see, but we know it to be true. We hear it in family conversations over Thanksgiving, murmurs at work over diversity hires, and in traffic stop encounters with police.
I haven’t read a more current essay collection ever. Toni Jensen somehow managed to tackle all issues: domestic violence, sexual trafficking, policy brutality; classism, colorism and white privilege; gun violence, deprivation of land belonging to Native Americans; our uncomfortable relationship with racism and bigotry; mental health, poverty, crime, drug abuse and alcoholism; caring for our elders, how we tell our own history, fracking and so many more. I read more than 100 books a year, and I already know this will be my favorite book of 2020.
Possibly the most unique characteristic of this work is her emphasis on language, and her dissection of definitions. Language matters. How we represent our ideas and our reality matters. It has the power to change everything; and if there is one thing the reader will take with him/her/they at the end of the book, it might as well be the power of words.
The collection is beautifully narrated, and has a smooth flow to it, though one essay seems divorced from the preceding one, at the end, it all comes together to give us a picture of the America we live in and how it got to be the way it is. How we turned out to be so comfortable with the myth of individualism (even at the expense of public health during a pandemic), un-fact-checked conservatism; to divorcing domestic violence with other forms of violence, like mass shootings and crime to the expense of our women and young; to thinking of Native Americans as expendable, as disappearing. It is painful and sad and real. It is the America we don’t want to see, but we know it to be true. We hear it in family conversations over Thanksgiving, murmurs at work over diversity hires, and in traffic stop encounters with police.
I haven’t read a more current essay collection ever. Toni Jensen somehow managed to tackle all issues: domestic violence, sexual trafficking, policy brutality; classism, colorism and white privilege; gun violence, deprivation of land belonging to Native Americans; our uncomfortable relationship with racism and bigotry; mental health, poverty, crime, drug abuse and alcoholism; caring for our elders, how we tell our own history, fracking and so many more. I read more than 100 books a year, and I already know this will be my favorite book of 2020.
July 17, 2020
Carry by Toni Jensen is a stunning collection of thoughts and essays bound together to create a memoir of sorts and a glimpse into the world of a woman that has been immersed and experienced a multitude of sobering experiences: violence and tragedy in such a vast array of situations ( gun violence, racial injustice and violence, domestic violence, amongst others). All of this being presented from the viewpoint of a Native American.
This book is real, raw, difficult to read (however it is a much needed read), and gives the reader a feeling of vulnerability and exposure. I was thoroughly impressed by such a unique and unforgettable presentation.
A must read. 5/5 stars
Thank you NetGalley and Ballantine/Random House Publishing for this ARC and in return I am submitting my unbiased and voluntary review and opinion.
I am posting this review to my GR and Bookbub accounts immediately and will post it to my Amazon and B&N accounts upon publication.
Merged review:
Carry by Toni Jensen is a stunning collection of thoughts and essays bound together to create a memoir of sorts and a glimpse into the world of a woman that has been immersed and experienced a multitude of sobering experiences: violence and tragedy in such a vast array of situations ( gun violence, racial injustice and violence, domestic violence, amongst others). All of this being presented from the viewpoint of a Native American.
This book is real, raw, difficult to read (however it is a much needed read), and gives the reader a feeling of vulnerability and exposure. I was thoroughly impressed by such a unique and unforgettable presentation.
A must read. 5/5 stars
Thank you NetGalley and Ballantine/Random House Publishing for this ARC and in return I am submitting my unbiased and voluntary review and opinion.
I am posting this review to my GR and Bookbub accounts immediately and will post it to my Amazon and B&N accounts upon publication.
This book is real, raw, difficult to read (however it is a much needed read), and gives the reader a feeling of vulnerability and exposure. I was thoroughly impressed by such a unique and unforgettable presentation.
A must read. 5/5 stars
Thank you NetGalley and Ballantine/Random House Publishing for this ARC and in return I am submitting my unbiased and voluntary review and opinion.
I am posting this review to my GR and Bookbub accounts immediately and will post it to my Amazon and B&N accounts upon publication.
Merged review:
Carry by Toni Jensen is a stunning collection of thoughts and essays bound together to create a memoir of sorts and a glimpse into the world of a woman that has been immersed and experienced a multitude of sobering experiences: violence and tragedy in such a vast array of situations ( gun violence, racial injustice and violence, domestic violence, amongst others). All of this being presented from the viewpoint of a Native American.
This book is real, raw, difficult to read (however it is a much needed read), and gives the reader a feeling of vulnerability and exposure. I was thoroughly impressed by such a unique and unforgettable presentation.
A must read. 5/5 stars
Thank you NetGalley and Ballantine/Random House Publishing for this ARC and in return I am submitting my unbiased and voluntary review and opinion.
I am posting this review to my GR and Bookbub accounts immediately and will post it to my Amazon and B&N accounts upon publication.
August 28, 2020
Wow!!!! What did I just read? I need everyone to go read this right now. Review Coming Soon.
Thank you Penguin Random House #partner for a copy.
Thank you Penguin Random House #partner for a copy.
November 19, 2020
In CARRY, we follow Toni Jensen- a Métis woman who grew up around guns.
The memoir starts in Magpie Road - Iowa, where land and people belong to each other. Through straightforward and concise writing, Jensen describes the beauty of the nature and sacred land, as well as her and many different experiences with violence.
Having a fair skin color, the author acknowledges her white privilege in contrast to her family members who suffer racism. Having lived in several cities across the country, Jensen shares how it is to live in places with high crime rate. Among all the violence, Indigenous women are more likely to be assaulted and trafficked and it was infuriating to read the picture composed of exploitation, violence and trafficking of Indigenous women and children.
As gun violence gives away to mass shooting, racism gives away to trauma, this reality portrays daily lives of many people. Weaving personal experiences with historical events, we witness how violence is perpetuated and its effects that last for generations. Moreover, when wealth and whiteness are combined, the narrative about gun violence takes another turn.
"Lands are taken by force, as well as bodies" - the racism and lack of respect towards Indians is real and the author calls us to take action.
Vulnerable and honest, this is a narrative not to be taken easily - issues of racism, human trafficking, domestic violence, alcoholism, mass shooting and animal abuse stand out from the pages and leave us unsettled.
My critique is that I wasn't invested into every essay - some parts dragged more than others and I was more interested in chapters directly involving the author.
While it took me some time to read this memoir, I am glad I read it - I ended up leaning a lot about Indigenous people and the violent cultural landscape. Thus, I highly recommend it for readers looking for a well-written memoir or those wanting to know more about Indigenous people or even people seeking a deeper look into violence in America.
[ I received a complimentary copy from the publisher - Random House - in exchange for an honest review ]
The memoir starts in Magpie Road - Iowa, where land and people belong to each other. Through straightforward and concise writing, Jensen describes the beauty of the nature and sacred land, as well as her and many different experiences with violence.
Having a fair skin color, the author acknowledges her white privilege in contrast to her family members who suffer racism. Having lived in several cities across the country, Jensen shares how it is to live in places with high crime rate. Among all the violence, Indigenous women are more likely to be assaulted and trafficked and it was infuriating to read the picture composed of exploitation, violence and trafficking of Indigenous women and children.
As gun violence gives away to mass shooting, racism gives away to trauma, this reality portrays daily lives of many people. Weaving personal experiences with historical events, we witness how violence is perpetuated and its effects that last for generations. Moreover, when wealth and whiteness are combined, the narrative about gun violence takes another turn.
"Lands are taken by force, as well as bodies" - the racism and lack of respect towards Indians is real and the author calls us to take action.
Vulnerable and honest, this is a narrative not to be taken easily - issues of racism, human trafficking, domestic violence, alcoholism, mass shooting and animal abuse stand out from the pages and leave us unsettled.
My critique is that I wasn't invested into every essay - some parts dragged more than others and I was more interested in chapters directly involving the author.
While it took me some time to read this memoir, I am glad I read it - I ended up leaning a lot about Indigenous people and the violent cultural landscape. Thus, I highly recommend it for readers looking for a well-written memoir or those wanting to know more about Indigenous people or even people seeking a deeper look into violence in America.
[ I received a complimentary copy from the publisher - Random House - in exchange for an honest review ]
February 11, 2021
My whole life this will be what I want from friendship, from love: movement in sync with language, language in sync with movement and laughter. My whole life I will want these pieces unified, together, a trinity most holy in its ordinary magic
First things first, the cover of Carry: A Memoir of Survival on Stolen Land is absolutely gorgeous. Second, Toni Jensen’s writing is gorgeous in its own right as well. I’m assuming that Jensen is somewhere around middle-aged, but she has lived so much life and I feel grateful to have been let inside of some of it. There is so much vulnerability in her writing about racial identity, or more specifically about being a Métis person who is white-passing. There is so much vulnerability in her writing about her relationship with her father and with men she has been romantically involved with (past boyfriends, past husbands).
This memoir reminds me so much of Rebecca Solnit’s Recollections of My Nonexistence. In that it is deeply personal and laser focused on certain aspects of Jensen’s life. And yet, her aim is to explore the culture that she shapes and is shaped by, the pieces about her are almost collateral (but still delicate, still very intentional, does that make sense?). If anything this memoir is in conversation with Recollections and also in some ways in conversation with Natasha Tretheway’s Memorial Drive.
Jensen is so timely in her collection (she name-checks George Floyd and COVID-19 many times) and yet she is aware that she is tackling head on the issues that people in the U.S. are most comfortable talking around and ignoring entirely. She talks about domestic violence and gun violence (large and small scale) and what it means when we are all only so many degrees of separation apart from victims. If we all know a victim of gun violence, or domestic violence, or both, then don’t we also know a perpetrator? And how have we contributed to the culture that creates perpetrators? How have we tried to dismantle that culture?
This collection is also so much about interpersonal relationships. There are a few mentions of tenderness and love that Jensen experienced, and her way of capturing the quotidian through text is phenomenal:
"I put my contact lenses into water in juice glasses that once were jelly jars, the kind with the intricate patterns carved into the glass on their sides. My boyfriend gives me two different glasses with two different patterns so I can know by feel which one is the right contact and which one is the left. This is what I mean by decency. This is what I mean by care. This is what I know of love."
(!!!)
From what I learned through this memoir, I adore Toni Jensen. I admire how deliberate she is in what she does and does not share. And I urge everyone to read Carry: A Memoir of Survival on Stolen Land because what she chooses to share and her analysis of life in this, our America, is so much more than enough.
March 23, 2021
I couldn’t imagine living in fear of guns as much as the author endures in this memoir. Given through her relative close distance - sometimes no distance at all, from guns in her life and around the violence with guns that happen so closely around her show a warmer degree of relationships to guns and gun violence. She describes guns as way of being connected to the world around her and the impacts that emotionally, and mentally that toll can have because of the close proximity to the potential for violence and in her experience, how her life has been directed in such a way that fear from gun violence, particularly against Indigenous and Black women and men.
Personally, it was interesting to read an account of another Métis woman roughly the same age as me but who grew up in the USA. I found that there were some pop culture references that I could relate to and some differences and similarities that I found interesting compared to my own Michif upbringing.
Kinanaskomitin for talking about the fair-skinned privilege and for sharing your academic experiences with the world as well. So many of us who went through academia can relate to your many stories in that context. In terms of what it’s like to relate to the land, I’m encouraged by Jenson’s commitment to stand gently and courageously in the small but mighty acts of walking the camp kids to school and back. Ekoseh.
Personally, it was interesting to read an account of another Métis woman roughly the same age as me but who grew up in the USA. I found that there were some pop culture references that I could relate to and some differences and similarities that I found interesting compared to my own Michif upbringing.
Kinanaskomitin for talking about the fair-skinned privilege and for sharing your academic experiences with the world as well. So many of us who went through academia can relate to your many stories in that context. In terms of what it’s like to relate to the land, I’m encouraged by Jenson’s commitment to stand gently and courageously in the small but mighty acts of walking the camp kids to school and back. Ekoseh.
July 20, 2021
Merriam-Webster defines “Carry” as:
1: to move while supporting : TRANSPORT
2: to convey by direct communication
3: chiefly dialectal : CONDUCT, ESCORT
4: to influence by mental or emotional appeal : SWAY
5: to get possession or control of : CAPTURE
And an additional 18 definitions that this book would have likely detailed.
It took me a long time to read this because the way it’s written is simply difficult to comprehend. It’s unfortunate because I think the story is an important one.
See more of my reviews: Instagram
1: to move while supporting : TRANSPORT
2: to convey by direct communication
3: chiefly dialectal : CONDUCT, ESCORT
4: to influence by mental or emotional appeal : SWAY
5: to get possession or control of : CAPTURE
And an additional 18 definitions that this book would have likely detailed.
It took me a long time to read this because the way it’s written is simply difficult to comprehend. It’s unfortunate because I think the story is an important one.
See more of my reviews: Instagram
Read
May 19, 2023Unflinching and important
October 19, 2020
Positively haunting. Totally engrossing. I don’t read many nonfiction books, let alone memoirs. But this book was as gripping and fraught as any novel, and it is beautifully written.
Near the end of the second essay, Jensen writes of her family, “It’s okay, I’ve learned, to love the things that make you, even if they’re also the things that unmake you.” But the book carries that proclamation outward to cover, in addition to family, her profession (teaching), the communities she inhabits, our complicated and difficult and dangerous nation. It asks us to reckon with how much more complicated, difficult, and especially dangerous this place is for indigenous people, people of color, women, all marginalized folk. And of course, it turns full-face toward that topic most American and most taboo of all—our guns.
Near the end of the second essay, Jensen writes of her family, “It’s okay, I’ve learned, to love the things that make you, even if they’re also the things that unmake you.” But the book carries that proclamation outward to cover, in addition to family, her profession (teaching), the communities she inhabits, our complicated and difficult and dangerous nation. It asks us to reckon with how much more complicated, difficult, and especially dangerous this place is for indigenous people, people of color, women, all marginalized folk. And of course, it turns full-face toward that topic most American and most taboo of all—our guns.
July 27, 2020
“This isn’t a story, then, so much about being Indian in America or even being Métis in America. It’s a story about being those things and striving toward whiteness; it’s about the cost of that striving.”
Toni Jenson’s voice is one we need in this country. Her work, Carry: A Memoir of Survival on Stolen Land, brings to the fore an image of America we would rather normalize or ignore. Jensen confronts the language we choose to tell our stories of racism, white adjacency, violence, gender, family, poverty, sex, and how we carry these narratives bodily. There is a dissonance created between the poetic language she writes in and the subject she writes about. The elegant prose pushes up against images of profound injustice. She shows through uncontestable facts, unrelenting repetition, and visceral imagery that language matters, words matter, images matter as we seek to bring to light personal and cultural histories of indigenous people long ignored and denied.
Thank you to Net Galley & Ballantine Books for the ARC of this incredible book!
Find my full review on:
https://www.writeordietribe.com/revie...
Toni Jenson’s voice is one we need in this country. Her work, Carry: A Memoir of Survival on Stolen Land, brings to the fore an image of America we would rather normalize or ignore. Jensen confronts the language we choose to tell our stories of racism, white adjacency, violence, gender, family, poverty, sex, and how we carry these narratives bodily. There is a dissonance created between the poetic language she writes in and the subject she writes about. The elegant prose pushes up against images of profound injustice. She shows through uncontestable facts, unrelenting repetition, and visceral imagery that language matters, words matter, images matter as we seek to bring to light personal and cultural histories of indigenous people long ignored and denied.
Thank you to Net Galley & Ballantine Books for the ARC of this incredible book!
Find my full review on:
https://www.writeordietribe.com/revie...
September 15, 2023
For the first few essays it was a little too reliant on Webster’s dictionary definitions for me, which I have long considered lazy writing. However, nothing about this book was written lazily. Every sentence had been precisely thought out and used to mark a specific moment or feeling. Full of deliciously nearly concealed homonyms (had to ask Dad for the word) and meanings left just out of your grasp so a few pages later you are hit with the full gravity of what she’s saying.
Fave essays include: Carry, Dog Days, In the Neighbourhood, Ghost Logic, Chicken and Pass.
See also: Sara Ahmed, Living a Feminist Life and Louise Erdrich, The Sentence.
(Not in the way that all indigenous authors are the same but in the way that the prose feels inspired and shared in a mutually respectful and loving way). Beautiful. 10/10 would recommend.
Fave essays include: Carry, Dog Days, In the Neighbourhood, Ghost Logic, Chicken and Pass.
See also: Sara Ahmed, Living a Feminist Life and Louise Erdrich, The Sentence.
(Not in the way that all indigenous authors are the same but in the way that the prose feels inspired and shared in a mutually respectful and loving way). Beautiful. 10/10 would recommend.
August 28, 2020
"I don't know where to put these connections — I don't know where to put my grief and rage sometimes in this, our America. Sometimes I think of the rage and grief like a road through traffic and there's nowhere to turn off and there's nowhere to park."
**Miigwech to Ballantine Books (and Penguin Random House) for this finished copy of Carry: A Memoir of Survival on Stolen Land by Toni Jensen.**
Sometimes you start a book, a collection of memoir essays, and the timing isn't right. Not because of the writing, but because the content is too heavy to hold on to, too massive and unwieldy to carry consistently. This is one such instance. Jensen's book is many things. It's about Métis survival, about Jensen's survival, and domestic violence, sexual violence, societal violence, mass violence, and above all it's about gun violence in its myriad existent forms in the U.S. She calls upon MMIW, on police brutality and murder, on everyday acts of violence, deeply colored by race and class. There's a lot of trigger warnings for this book, so be aware.
I'm going to be honest, sometimes this collection felt disjointed. Sometimes I worried that Jensen's attempts to trace the linkages of our own everyday proximity to extreme violence fell too closely toward centering one's self. We all live not far removed from violence, but when and how do we deal with it? How do we relate? How do we relay our stories without obscuring the important details of instances of violence not our own? The essay on the Twin Cities particularly bristled against me, and mentions of George Floyd left me uncomfortable and disquieted. But this, of course, is a relationship to space I carry much differently than Jensen.
That same concern also leaves room for us to acknowledge how we react to stories of violence. Jensen's writing reminds us constantly that we are surrounded by violence, that some can choose to move on with life while those most deeply effected are forced to carry that trauma ever after.
But this is also about survival. It's about carrying trauma and about carrying our personal and shared histories and striving to change systems. It's about carrying our missteps, our happy moments and joy alongside our sorrows and fears and anger and healing.
The title is representative of Jensen's regular defining of ordinary words we otherwise don't think about. Words like carry, chicken, and passing carry multitudes in meaning and how we engage with that meaning requires context and knowledge. Such is the way we each carry our histories with guns, with violence.
I can't say I enjoyed this book (is that every the right word for books with difficult content?). It was frustrating and painful and sometimes felt messy, but it mirrors truths about this country that need to be examined. It holds a mirror up to the reader and asks "And what about you? How are you carrying grief and rage? How do you carry on?"
**Miigwech to Ballantine Books (and Penguin Random House) for this finished copy of Carry: A Memoir of Survival on Stolen Land by Toni Jensen.**
Sometimes you start a book, a collection of memoir essays, and the timing isn't right. Not because of the writing, but because the content is too heavy to hold on to, too massive and unwieldy to carry consistently. This is one such instance. Jensen's book is many things. It's about Métis survival, about Jensen's survival, and domestic violence, sexual violence, societal violence, mass violence, and above all it's about gun violence in its myriad existent forms in the U.S. She calls upon MMIW, on police brutality and murder, on everyday acts of violence, deeply colored by race and class. There's a lot of trigger warnings for this book, so be aware.
I'm going to be honest, sometimes this collection felt disjointed. Sometimes I worried that Jensen's attempts to trace the linkages of our own everyday proximity to extreme violence fell too closely toward centering one's self. We all live not far removed from violence, but when and how do we deal with it? How do we relate? How do we relay our stories without obscuring the important details of instances of violence not our own? The essay on the Twin Cities particularly bristled against me, and mentions of George Floyd left me uncomfortable and disquieted. But this, of course, is a relationship to space I carry much differently than Jensen.
That same concern also leaves room for us to acknowledge how we react to stories of violence. Jensen's writing reminds us constantly that we are surrounded by violence, that some can choose to move on with life while those most deeply effected are forced to carry that trauma ever after.
But this is also about survival. It's about carrying trauma and about carrying our personal and shared histories and striving to change systems. It's about carrying our missteps, our happy moments and joy alongside our sorrows and fears and anger and healing.
The title is representative of Jensen's regular defining of ordinary words we otherwise don't think about. Words like carry, chicken, and passing carry multitudes in meaning and how we engage with that meaning requires context and knowledge. Such is the way we each carry our histories with guns, with violence.
I can't say I enjoyed this book (is that every the right word for books with difficult content?). It was frustrating and painful and sometimes felt messy, but it mirrors truths about this country that need to be examined. It holds a mirror up to the reader and asks "And what about you? How are you carrying grief and rage? How do you carry on?"
September 13, 2020
(Review copy provided by Ballantine Books)
Métis author Toni Jensen’s memoir is one of violence. The violence, particularly gun violence, that touches her life as a US resident mirrors the experiences of many of us in this country. The chapters are a bit disjointed and not necessarily linear to the timeline of her life, but that didn’t really bother me. We got different snippets of her life at a crucial moment. It made me think about about how in our daily lives, we have gotten used to how things are. When we are able to see everything laid out across the length of even one person’s life, the depth of the problem becomes clear and overwhelming. Something else I appreciated was that Jensen, who has moved a lot around the US, was very thoughtful in honoring the people whose land she was on by acknowledging and naming them. She also frequently listed dictionary definitions for certain words which brought into focus the importance of language and the words we use. Even the everyday words we take for granted.
Overall, I’m glad to have read Toni Jensen’s story. At times it was poetically written and at others it was more straightforward, but it was always powerful. The essays didn’t always feel like they carried their thoughts through to their conclusion. It took me a little while to hook into the book, but I recommend it if you’re looking to reflect on the ways violence has effected all our lives. What trauma do we each individually and collectively carry?
CW: Many different kinds of experiences with violence, so proceed with caution, including guns, mass shootings, domestic violence, racism, human trafficking, child abuse, animal abuse, police brutality, alcoholism, murder, MMIW
Métis author Toni Jensen’s memoir is one of violence. The violence, particularly gun violence, that touches her life as a US resident mirrors the experiences of many of us in this country. The chapters are a bit disjointed and not necessarily linear to the timeline of her life, but that didn’t really bother me. We got different snippets of her life at a crucial moment. It made me think about about how in our daily lives, we have gotten used to how things are. When we are able to see everything laid out across the length of even one person’s life, the depth of the problem becomes clear and overwhelming. Something else I appreciated was that Jensen, who has moved a lot around the US, was very thoughtful in honoring the people whose land she was on by acknowledging and naming them. She also frequently listed dictionary definitions for certain words which brought into focus the importance of language and the words we use. Even the everyday words we take for granted.
Overall, I’m glad to have read Toni Jensen’s story. At times it was poetically written and at others it was more straightforward, but it was always powerful. The essays didn’t always feel like they carried their thoughts through to their conclusion. It took me a little while to hook into the book, but I recommend it if you’re looking to reflect on the ways violence has effected all our lives. What trauma do we each individually and collectively carry?
CW: Many different kinds of experiences with violence, so proceed with caution, including guns, mass shootings, domestic violence, racism, human trafficking, child abuse, animal abuse, police brutality, alcoholism, murder, MMIW
December 31, 2020
Quite a unique structure. At first it appears to be a series of unrelated vignettes until you start to notice the common thread running through them. Told thru the eyes of an indigenous Métis woman, Jensen describes events in her life that are types of gun violence: domestic violence, police brutality, gang violence, mass shootings, racist violence, violence by oppressors at Standing Rock protest. Jensen grows up to be a creative writing professor and also experiences academic violence by students, peers and school administrators.
Each chapter explores the violent cultural landscape that indigenous people have experienced for generations. Despite its focus, it was not a hard read. Perhaps I have been hardened by the violent events, several of which were chronicled in the news. But she also centered her writing more on fear and emotion than bloody gore.
Each chapter explores the violent cultural landscape that indigenous people have experienced for generations. Despite its focus, it was not a hard read. Perhaps I have been hardened by the violent events, several of which were chronicled in the news. But she also centered her writing more on fear and emotion than bloody gore.
September 21, 2020
This book is about families. It is about alcoholism. It is about the struggle of native people. It is about guns and violence. It is about teachers and students. It is about Black Lives Matter and it is somehow already about COVID. It is the story of one woman’s experiences. It is about birds.
In other words, this book is about America. And it is a wonderful read.
In other words, this book is about America. And it is a wonderful read.
December 30, 2022
Jensen's memoir was powerful - a rich mix of creative and academic writing. I appreciated the knowledge she shared about Métis history, identity, and connection to land, because I am not at all familiar with First Nations experiences - though I am Indigenous (Diné) myself. As she wrote about movement around the United States throughout her life, she tied together narratives about her experiences with domestic violence, mental health inequities, gun violence, and settler colonial violence against Indigenous peoples in various spaces and points in time. I loved that she grounded each narrative with a connection of the original Indigenous inhabitants to every region of land she talks about.
I never grew up around guns. It wasn't until I was 30 years old that I first shot a handgun. I do not understand the fascination with them. Only recently, with the early craze of the COVID-19 pandemic, did I wonder if I should start becoming familiar with guns -- to protect myself. As an Indigenous woman becoming more hyperaware of the increased risk of encountering violence in this world by white men, I do think often about what would be the best measures for protecting myself against invaders of my home and my body. Martial arts? Guns? These were some thoughts I juggled as I read.
I now think differently about how the media handles coverage of mass shootings. I used to be of the mind that we shouldn't draw attention to the shooter because isn't the notoriety in part what they seek? But because the majority of these mass shooters are white men, our society allows for their protection by turning the other way, allowing for these horrendous pattern of violence to continue. Thank you for broadening my awareness of these social intricacies.
I never grew up around guns. It wasn't until I was 30 years old that I first shot a handgun. I do not understand the fascination with them. Only recently, with the early craze of the COVID-19 pandemic, did I wonder if I should start becoming familiar with guns -- to protect myself. As an Indigenous woman becoming more hyperaware of the increased risk of encountering violence in this world by white men, I do think often about what would be the best measures for protecting myself against invaders of my home and my body. Martial arts? Guns? These were some thoughts I juggled as I read.
I now think differently about how the media handles coverage of mass shootings. I used to be of the mind that we shouldn't draw attention to the shooter because isn't the notoriety in part what they seek? But because the majority of these mass shooters are white men, our society allows for their protection by turning the other way, allowing for these horrendous pattern of violence to continue. Thank you for broadening my awareness of these social intricacies.
November 3, 2024
2.5 ⭐️. Toni Jensen is a fantastic writer and her stories are captivating, however as a cohesive piece, I felt “Carry” missed the mark.
I hate that I’m giving it this rating because she is so talented and what she has to say is invaluable and eye-opening. The memoir is billed as a collection of essays, but it didn’t read that way, nor did it feel like a full novel. It mostly felt disjointed and I didn’t love the Webster’s dictionary definitions throughout.
The last quarter of the book was the best part and I’m glad I stuck with it. I probably just struggled with the editing. I would definitely read more of Toni Jensen and I’m disappointed by my response to “Carry.” 😞
I hate that I’m giving it this rating because she is so talented and what she has to say is invaluable and eye-opening. The memoir is billed as a collection of essays, but it didn’t read that way, nor did it feel like a full novel. It mostly felt disjointed and I didn’t love the Webster’s dictionary definitions throughout.
The last quarter of the book was the best part and I’m glad I stuck with it. I probably just struggled with the editing. I would definitely read more of Toni Jensen and I’m disappointed by my response to “Carry.” 😞
October 12, 2020
This book took me longer than I expected to finish, but just because it was a lot of processing to sit with. I saw that there were some lower reviews on this book, but I don't think they are truly fair. This book isn't an easy read specifically because it is more metaphorical and extensive than appears by simply the text in the book. However, if you give yourself the time to engage with it, it's remarkable and beautiful. Especially in the time of indigenous people's day, I highly recommend this book to anybody who struggles with understanding the contemporary indigenous experience and the connection of today's struggles with the past.
August 29, 2020
I received this as an ARC on Netgalley - This is a mostly dark and gritty account. It’s hard to say whether or not I liked it as it was more of an experience that had ups and downs. Also growing up around guns I could relate to some of the experiences the author was describing but others were so foreign that I had to stop and think through what she was presenting.
This is a book for those wanting to experience scenes that may be foreign but at the same time very difficult to relate to. This is definitely not for the reader that is faint of heart and was best read in small episodes to help with the comprehension of all that is being revealed.
This is a book for those wanting to experience scenes that may be foreign but at the same time very difficult to relate to. This is definitely not for the reader that is faint of heart and was best read in small episodes to help with the comprehension of all that is being revealed.
September 7, 2020
America is all kinds and ways,
a separation planet,
it is peopled by colonizer humanoids,
a medicine woman has the ability to subtract flesh and blood.
#poem
Chris Roberts, Patron Saint to the Impossible People
a separation planet,
it is peopled by colonizer humanoids,
a medicine woman has the ability to subtract flesh and blood.
#poem
Chris Roberts, Patron Saint to the Impossible People
July 16, 2021
This was good.
I thought it was an interesting book.
I didn't love love it, but I thought it was an important Indigenous read.
Good message!
2.3/5
I thought it was an interesting book.
I didn't love love it, but I thought it was an important Indigenous read.
Good message!
2.3/5
January 31, 2023
There were different writing styles in these essays so I connected with some more than others. I’d definitely like to read more of this author’s work.
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