Girl warrior On coming of age

In this lyrical memoir, former U.S. poet laureate Harjo (Washing My Mother's Body) offers candid reflections on her artistic development and stirring inspiration for young Native women. In short chapters that address the reader directly, Harjo weaves profound personal experiences--including her grief over the death of her daughter, her struggles with crippling stage fright, and her memories of transformative musical experiences--with concise wisdom ("Your spirit doesn't tell you what to do. It shows you the story. What you choose to do is up to you"). Throughout, she remains consistently focused on the importance of creative expression, noting that writing is "part of carrying on voice, a voice that is full of stories that us strength to survive, create, and keep going." She also soberly considers the challenges facing her fellow members of the Muscogee Nation, conceding that she "doesn't have the words to help" the community's problems with addiction or poverty, only "questions, tears, and anger," though "some questions can pry open a corner where light can shoot through." Elegant and worldly-wise, Harjo's ruminations linger long after the final page is turned. This offers valuable guidance for readers of all stripes. (Oct.)

Words to the wise. Poet Laureate Harjo addresses young Native girls in her latest melding of memoir and guidance, prose and poetry. Drawing on the challenges of her own life, she counsels readers who may be facing sadness, anger, grief, or despair. Growing up, she witnessed her father's betrayal of her mother, leading her to advise wariness about "placing your romantic dream on the back of someone who has no idea of your intention and no interest in your dream or you." Becoming pregnant as a teenager, Harjo struggled with the challenges of motherhood, dealing with a volatile partner, and trying to find her own way in the world. When she felt overwhelmed and suicidal, she discovered that there was "tremendous power in asking for help." Also powerful was listening to her own inner spirit. Harjo's world is spiritually resonant, swirling with ancestral memories and thoughts emanating from plants, animals, other humans, and even rainbows. "Every place has a signature energy," she writes, "as does every object, every being." She urges readers to be open to the "infinite possible versions" of their own stories. Believing that when the mind is hungry, "it searches for art, literature, performance, and knowledge," Harjo decided "to fall in love with creativity." She took up the saxophone at the age of 40, after having been discouraged to play the instrument when she was a child. The joy of making music helped her to transcend self-consciousness about playing: "There would be no story without mistakes," she writes. Harjo pays homage to her ancestors and tribal traditions, pointing to the cultural lessons that can be learned around the kitchen table and the richness of ancestors' wisdom. Listen to ancestors, she says, but be aware, she slyly adds: "Some ancestors are troublemakers." Warmhearted advice. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.