There There: A novel

I walked away from this book with a new perspective I didn't have before. A deeper level of empathy about a people who are forgotten in America. Although this book is fiction, you can tell its stories are real - the emotion is real and built from first hand experiences of what the author has both himself experienced and knows firsthand about.

I highly recommend this book. Required reading. I'm sorry it's a downer but we owe it to those whose history have been white-washed to acknowledge what these people have been through and what results.

I found the structure of the novel to be difficult with the focus shifting so often between the many characters.However the novel exposed me to a way of seeing the native American experience that was totally new and moving.

This was a though provoking novel. It explores the modern native experience from a multitude of points of view. It seems especially relevant regarding the use of 3D printers. Touching. Sad. Circular. I enjoyed it very much.

Gritty, beautiful, and brutal all at the same time. This book is so current and timely that it feels like it was finished yesterday. Just an incredible first novel. I look forward to Tommy Orange's next book.

I got about two-thirds of the way through, and finally had to give up. I do give it two stars for the writing, which I think is good. As well, writing about urban native Americans is a really important topic that there needs to be more of. The problem for me is that, because the point of view keeps shifting from one character to the next, there isn't time to really develop each person so that you really get to know them. Each time the life of a character was resumed, I had to try and remember, who was that again? By the time I reconnected with who they were, felt caught up with their continuing story and felt reinvested in them, things switched to a different person again and I was back to - wait, who's that, now?

I was looking forward to reading this book..I made it to almost 200 pages and finally gave up...if the is a literary masterpiece then I am lost..I read a lot and prefer literary fiction but this book to me was not that at all...

This book consists of interconnected stories. I almost stopped reading it because it became a bit confusing. I recommend you read the book, not an e-book and not an audio book, because I had to keep thumbing back through to remember each character's story. I've never thought much about urban Native Americans so this is an unknown world. By the end of the book I could not put it down.

"The wound that was made when white people came and took all that they took has never healed. An unattended wound gets infected. Becomes a new kind of wound like the history of what actually happened became a new kind of history. All these stories that we haven't been telling all this time, that we haven't been listening to, are just part of what we need to heal. Not that we're broken. And don't make the mistake of calling us resilient. To not have been destroyed, to not have given up, to have survived, is no bade of honor. Would you call an attempted murder victim resilient?

When we go to tell our stories, people think we want it to have gone different. People want to say things like "sore losers" and "move on already," "quit playing the blame game." But is it a game? Only those who have lost as much as we have see the particularly nasty slice of smile on someone who thinks they're winning when they say "Get over it." This is the thing: If you have the option to not think about or even consider history, whether you learned it right or not, or whether it even deserves consideration, that's how you know you're on board the ship that serves hors d'oeuvres and fluffs your pillows, while other are out at sea, swimming or drowning, or clinging to little inflatable rafts that they have to take turns keeping inflated, people short of breath, who've never heard of the words hors d'oeuvres or fluff. Then someone from up on the yacht says, "It's too bad those people down there are lazy, and not as smart and able as we are up here, we who have built these strong, large, stylish, boats ourselves, we who float the seven seas like kings." And then someone else on board says something like, "But your father gave you this yacht, and these are his servants who brought the hors d'oeuvres." At which point the person gets tossed overboard. . . . Then in whispers, while the agitators get sucked under the yacht, private agreements are made, precautions are measured out, and everyone quietly agrees to keep on quietly agreeing to the implied rule of law and to not think about what just happened. Soon, the father, who put these things in place, is only spoken of in the form of lore, stories told to children at night, under the stars, at which point there are suddenly several fathers, noble, wise forefathers. And the boat sails on unfettered."

This book has gotten lots of praise and rightfully so, it is beautifully written and there is a very musical rhythm to the writing. When I first read what the plot was, I wondered "How could I relate to this story?" But isn't that the point of reading? Reading something that you aren't familiar with about people or locations you don't know too much about. By getting out of "comfort" zone or expanding our knowledge is we learn and grow.

This is a very timely book and has come at the perfect time as we see the ugliness of Trump's words and policies. His spreading of lies and false information to divide people to a continue a narrative that isn't true. However, the spread of false information or the reshaping of history isn't something new. The United States has a very ugly past and has done some horrendous things. However, that past is never talked about or has been lied about.

This history and stories need to be told. Mr. Orange, at a reading I attended, said that most of his relatives have so much pain and don't like talking about the past. However, it is important that talk and let people know about the past. However, it is also important for us to also speak out about what we have done and correct the historical record. Most people aren't aware of the real history because we have been told and taught a much different history. Whether it is through our history books or the stories our ancestors pass down about our "heroic" ancestor that did . . . . Hopefully people will read "There There" and want to learn more and demand that the truth is finally told. We need to own up to the horrible actions our ancestors took and live up to our rewritten history of democracy and equality for all.

One of the downsides of reading a lot is the feeling that, while you still enjoy most of what you read, some of it tends to sound familiar—as if you’ve read it before. Which is not unreasonable, as ‘how many truly distinct plots there are in fiction’ is a subject of debate even among critics. Still, it makes it that much more exciting when I come upon something wholly unexpected that leaves me reeling. In this case it is Tommy Orange’s debut There There, an explosive novel representing a view of America few of us have ever considered and that our country as a whole would rather forget…or ignore.

There There is the story of twelve Native Americans as they make their way to Oakland, California for the Big Oakland Powwow. There is Orvil, a teenager who’s going to dance in a competition to earn some much-needed cash for his family; Jacquie, a middle-aged woman coming back home after decades away spent trying to straighten out her life after giving her daughter up for adoption at 17 and having a second daughter die; and Dene Oxendene, a young man making a documentary of Native Americans of all ages telling their stories. There are young men for whom a life of crime is the only way to make a living and another whose passion for coding has led him to the same place. They are people trying to get on and get by with life in whatever way they can and while their tribes may be different, their culture and the need to celebrate it is the same.

Alcoholism is the constant that pours through There There. Every character is either an alcoholic or is impacted by someone who is. Written with a bleak starkness Orange doesn’t make any excuses, simply states it as a fact of Native American life. Which, when considered, is not surprising. To go from being the proud inhabitants of a land to a people robbed of that land, stripped of their culture and even their names? How can such a loss of identity lead to anything other than unimaginable despair?

Through plain speech and scorching prose Orange raises eloquence to a new level. In the prologue paragraphs such as this

"Some of us came to cities to escape the reservation. We stayed after fighting in the Second World War. After Vietnam too. We stayed because the city sounds like a war, and you can’t leave a war once you’ve been, you can only keep it at bay—which is easier when you can see and hear it near you, that fast metal, that constant firing around you, cars up and down the streets and freeways like bullets. The quiet of the reservation, the side-of-the-highway towns, rural communities, that kind of silence just makes the sound of your brain on fire that much more pronounced."

flay the reader as to the facts of our government’s systematic policy to obliterate and subjugate Native Americans. With each sentence there is more reason to cringe and rightly so. But Orange doesn’t take his recitation of facts about the lies in American history into There There. Instead, he takes disparate people from multiple tribes and attaches them to one another with the fine threads of blood and family. They are all heading to the powwow for different reasons, but as the incredibly talented Orange spins these loose threads together the cloth tightens into a complex tapestry of rich heritage, culture, and spirituality. Orange is a voice that demands to be heard and this is a novel that should make us listen.

My favorite reading experiences either teach me about something I didn't know much about or shine a light on parts of our culture I am unfamiliar with. Part of the urgency of reading Junot Díaz, for example, is that the stories he tells are usually left on the margins if they get told at all. This is probably why I have such a problem with novels about white guys who can't get their shit together: that story has been told far too many times. 

The comparison to Díaz is apt for There There, which is a collection of interconnected stories involving Native Americans tethered to the Oakland area somehow. Each character is struggling to connect (or disconnect from) their shared Native ancestry, their families, and their complicated relationship to a country that tried to wipe out their stories. These tensions set each of them on a collision course with a robbery at the Big Oakland Powwow--a robbery that will go terribly, violently wrong (no spoiler there, the very first chapter is from one of the characters who will participate in the robbery, and it all unspools from there). 

If Orange sometimes goes a little too far with some of his narrative tricks, it's forgivable because he does such a great job rendering complex, interesting characters. Even the ones who feel a touch clichéd are drawn so well they can't help but be interesting. Orange also has a masterful grip on tone--building a sense of dread as the Powwow draws closer and closer. I also wrote notes as I progressed through the book, which is something I hadn't done in a long time. There are some great lines throughout, and I also wanted to figure out a lot of Orange's frequent references to mirrors/reflections. It's always a thrill to find a book you want to engage with.

And if the ending leaves a lot of strands hanging, I don't actually mind at all because it somehow feels satisfying. I have a lot of questions, but they don't leave me frustrated so much as curious to see what Orange does next. 

You can find more of my reviews on SupposedlyFun.com

I completely agree with all the kudos Tommy Orange is getting for THERE THERE. This book is dramatic, simply and beautifully written, amazingly powerful, well-crafted and leaves a lasting impression. Quite impressive for a debut novel.

The book is structured like a series of short stories, each chapter about different individuals, all of them anticipating an upcoming Indian gathering, in Oakland, CA. Some characters are old, some young. Each has its own distinct and believable voice. Some chapters relate stories that are decades old, others unfold as you read them. And many characters eventually wind up connected. 

Each story is a rich snapshot of contemporary Native American life, where people must continually confront so many of the daily demons faced by marginalized people. Poverty, prejudice, and political powerlessness are just the beginning. Physical abuse, unplanned pregnancies, obesity, drug abuse, unemployment, parental neglect and abandonment, and alcoholism-- lots of alcoholism-- are themes that recur throughout the novel. 

This is not what I would characterize as an enjoyable read. It’s intensely suspenseful, but the stories are generally not happy ones. The picture Orange paints of Native American life in the US is dark, tragic, and sad. And as a white American, I was left feeling shamed. But I’m glad I read the book because I came away from it feeling I had greater understanding for this often ignored segment of American life. And I don’t think any other book I’ve previously read has so clearly made personal all that this country has done and continues to do to Native American peoples.

This is not going to be a popular view, but I didn’t think There There was a very successful novel. The history it conveys and the points it makes about the treatment of Native Americans are extremely important and it is essential that Native American voices should be heard, but for me it didn’t make a compelling, readable or involving novel. I found the fragmented structure too disruptive and the multitude of stories, told in a very similar voice throughout, meant that I never quite engaged with each one before a cut to a different one.

The very fine song White Man’s World by Jason Isbell contains the couplet,
“I’m a white man living on a white man’s street
I’ve got the bones of the red man under my feet...”
and those two lines had as much impact on me as the whole of There There, I think. We really do need to hear the stories of those bones and of the living descendants of the bones’ owners, and I applaud Tommy Orange’s noble purpose in trying to tell some of them. However, this felt to me more like a rather fragmented history lesson than a novel. There are some very fine novels now about African American history and slavery (Colson Whitehead’s recent and excellent Underground Railroad, for example) and Native American history needs them too. There There isn’t bad by any means, but however great the need and however admirable its aim, for me it doesn’t come into that category.

(My thanks to Vintage for an ARC via NetGalley.)

I came to the store after reading 3 chapters to determine whether I could continue reading and thanks to both good reviews and negative reviews I cannot continue, I am a weenie about depressing stories. I could not see Schindler's List if this gives insight to my inabilities. "Jaws" ruined swimming for me over 40 years ago. Can't read any of Stephen King's books either.

I'll return this book to the library where the wait list is long and give the next reader a chance.
Not looking for a feel-good native novel, just can't read well written true stories unless there is some upside. Donating the retail price of this book to American Indian College Fund.

5+++++ stars!!!!! Absolutely phenomenal!!!!!
“There There” is a non-stop pace story... COULD NOT PUT THIS DOWN....
The stories in here are gut wrenching *intimate* about dislocation-identify-violence -loss-hope-and power.
“We have been defined by everyone else and continue to be slandered despite easy-to-look-up-Internet-facts about realities of our histories and current state as a people”.

The despair and beauty in Tommy Orange’s debut novel entwined the history of a nation and indigenous community in Oakland, Calif.
Incredible characters.
Dialogue with feelings.

Warmth, pride, sediments for Oakland-raised Tommy Orange!
Congratulations to him!!!
He knocked the ball out of the park with this outstanding novel!!!!

elysejody.... ( also grew up in Oakland)

There’s a page in the interlude halfway through Tommy Orange’s debut novel in which he talks about the names of Native Indians and lists the various ones that “were given to us…attempted translations and botched Indian names, random surnames, and names passed down from white American generals, admirals, and colonels, and just sometimes just colors.” It would be too long to list all the names here but this particular page said more to me about the plight of the Native Indians than more or less everything else in his book. And there was plenty.

Orange focuses on the Urban Indians of Oakland, California and uses a range of voices to tell his story. It is almost like a short story collection where each of the various characters interlink in some way and culminates in the Big Oakland Powwow which is a big deal for some of Orange’s characters but for us, his readers, seems like little more than a giant, overly commercialised carnival.

There’s no doubt it’s interesting to learn about this other world, this world of ‘left behinds’, and at first the stories hold attention and generate empathy. Here’s Edwin Black, overweight internet addict and constipation sufferer, with an insight that reflects not just the wired world but also the Natives’ dilemma of their perceived ‘duty’ to remember their roots: “The internet is like a brain trying to figure out a brain. I depend on the internet for recall now. There’s no reason to remember when it’s always just right there, like the way everyone used to know phone numbers by heart and now can’t even remember their own. Remembering itself is becoming old-fashioned.”

Another noteworthy observation comes from mental health counsellor Jacquie Red Feather on her flight to a conference about substance abuse as she contemplates the high suicide rate in the Native communities: “For how many years had there been federally funded programs trying to prevent suicide with billboards and hotlines? It was no wonder it was getting worse. You can’t sell life is okay when it’s not.”

Eventually, though, the relentlessly downbeat nature of the characters’ stories wears one down, much in the manner of Elizabeth Strout’s novel Olive Kitteridge; how much misery can one read about without getting overload and tuning out? I believe this is called ‘compassion fatigue’ and I’m afraid that’s how I felt by the end (about which I shall resist the urge to comment).

My thanks to Penguin Vintage for the review copy courtesy of NetGalley.

I started and ended my journey reading There There with tears in my eyes. Yes, it’s that good. Astonishingly, There There is a debut novel. I say astonishingly because it usually takes time and experience to produce this quality of novel. The book tells the stories of twelve Native American characters from Oakland who are preparing to attend a Powwow. Each of the twelve characters has their own reasons and motivations for attending. For some it is a spiritual or personally significant event, for others it’s an opportunity for advancement, both positive and negative.

The book is broken into sections: a prologue, “Remain”, “Reclaim”, Interlude, “Return”, and Powwow. The prologue and interlude are non-fiction, pieces that provide both history and social commentary related to the experiences and lives of Native Americans. And these sections are powerful, emotionally effective, and they enhance the fictional parts of the book in no small part because they are intricately connected with the author’s own heritage.

The fictional sections build up to the final Powwow where the 12 characters come together. Each chapter is told from the perspective of one of the 12 characters and as the book progresses, we see how the lives of all these characters are connected.

One of the things I loved about this book was that it was so fresh and gives readers a glimpse into the lives of Native Americans living in urban locations. This is not your traditional “life on the reservation” story, historical fiction, or Native folklore story (although stories do play a critical role in the book). Tommy Orange highlights the diversity of the Native American experience set in the context of a similar shared history. And he does so from a place of personal experience. The characters are complex, deeply flawed, and all immeasurably impacted by their history.

Many of the characters in this book carry around sadness and heartbreak while being required to metaphorically dance while doing so. Dance, music, and storytelling are also central to many of the characters as means through which to connect or reconnect to their own heritage.

There There is a deeply emotional book. It has been described as a “new American epic” by the New York Times. It’s beautifully written and captures a multitude of very different voices. Some sections are poetic, others funny, others obscene and these voices match the varied characters. It’s a worthwhile read and one I wholeheartedly recommend.

Here are a few quotes from the book:

But what we are is what our ancestors did. How they survived. We are the memories we don’t remember, which live in us, which we feel, which make us sing and dance and pray the way we do, feelings from memories that flare and bloom unexpectedly in our lives like blood through a blanket from a wound made by a bullet fired by a man shooting us in the back for our hair, for our heads, for our bounty, or just to get rid of us.

She shuffles her music and it lands on Smokey Robinson’s “The Tracks of My Tears.” This song gives her that strange mix of sad an happy. Plus it’s upbeat. That’s what she loves about Motown, the way it asks you to carry sadness and heartbreak but dance while doing so.

You didn’t think of tapping or knocking as drumming until you actually started drumming many years later. It would have been good to know that you’d always done something naturally. But there was too much going on with everyone else in your family for anyone to notice you should probably have done something else with your fingers and toes than tap, with your mind and time than knock all the surfaces in your life like you were looking for a way in.

So much sorrow as the characters in There There seek connection and struggle with identity…an honest and important debut!

Author Tommy Orange gives us a window into Native American Indian suffering and challenges with skill. We follow more than a dozen characters, hearing their stories as they prepare to attend a major Pow Wow, a coming together of Natives from all over. As we know, their land was taken away from them, but most have never lived the traditional Indian life on a reservation. They are interested in their own culture and history yet they know so very little about where they truly came from, the people, the places, and the rituals and traditions. Not knowing their past contributes to unsettled feelings, and a sense of belonging is challenging and often laced with despair.

Tony Loneman was born to an alcoholic and has some mental deficits. He deals drugs. He plans to go to the Pow Wow to steal money.

Dene Oxendene smokes weed. He takes over his uncle’s movie making project about Indians and their stories. He plans to go to the Pow Wow to interview Natives.

Opal Viola Victoria Bear Shield lived on Alcatraz in protest when she was a child, with her mom, who died of cancer and her sister. She plans to go to the Pow Wow to see her grandson dance.

Edwin Black searches online and finds his long lost father. He plans to meet him at the Pow Wow.

Everyone is searching for their history, a means to an end and connection while battling despair, addiction, weight issues and social challenges. I found this book, a collection of integrated personal stories, compelling and tragic. Not knowing who you are can be devastating and hearing the words of a character who is half Native and half white, the struggle is evident as Orange writes, “You’re from a people who took and took and took and took. And from a people taken. You were both and neither. ”

With clarity and honesty, There There is a story of the urban Native Americans, an inherently beautiful people with a painful past and a deep sense of spirituality. I highly recommend this book.

It is astonishing the way native American Tommy Orange in his formidable debut novel There There finds richness and depth within a limited vocabulary. For this reader, in other writers such as Junot Diaz and Dagoberto Gilb, the limited vocabulary is too often crippling. Listen to the way the bare language opens, engages and nearly sings in the first paragraph of Orange’s second chapter:

“Dene Oxendene takes the dead escalator two steps at a time at the Fruitvale Station. When he makes it up to the platform, the train he thought he was missing comes to a stop on the opposite side. A single drop of sweat drips down the side of his face from out of his beanie. Deme wipes the sweat with his finger, then pulls the beanie off and shakes it out, mad like the sweat came from it and not his head. He looks down the tracks and breathes out a breath he watches rise and then disappear. He smells cigarette smoke, which makes him want one, except that they tire him out. He wants a cigarette that invigorates. He wants a drug that works. He refuses to drink. Smokes too much weed. Nothing works.” Lord, you almost want to scan his lines.

Here’s mail carrier Opal Viola Victoria Bear Shield, who has some of the ethnic superstition and toughness of women in Toni Morrison’s Song of Solomon: “A few weeks back she found a video of Orvil powwow dancing in his room. Opal regularly checks their phones while they sleep. She looks at what pictures and videos they take, their text messages, and their browser histories. None of them have shown signs of especially worrisome depravity yet. But it’s only a matter of time. Opal believes there is a dark curiosity alive in each of us. She believes we all do precisely what we think we can get away with. The way Opal sees it, privacy is for adults. You keep a close eye over your kids, you keep them in line.”

As Orange spins his hard, compelling narratives of twelve contemporary Native American lives, along the way he restores some history for the history-deprived, including quoting the eloquent Crazy Horse’s Prophecy:

“Upon suffering beyond suffering; the Red Nation shall rise again and it shall be a blessing for a sick world. A world filled with broken promises, selfishness and separations. A world longing for light again. I see a time of seven generations, when all the colors of mankind will gather under the sacred Tree of Life and the whole Earth will become one circe again.”

For all the darkness, the book is not without humor, as when obese , unemployed Edwin Black, addicted to the Internet, says: “I’d clicked a link to unload The Lone Ranger. Everyone agreed on how bad it was, in so many ways. But I was excited to see it. There’s something about seeing Johnny Depp fail so badly that gives me strength.”

It does need to be said that when Orange reaches too far beyond his usual vocabulary, the result can be jarringly wrong, true to neither his own voice nor the voice of his characters, as when we get this observation about Dene Oxendene: “He is regularly subject to solipsism’s recursive, drowning affect.” Where on earth did that come from? And if that “affect” is not a typographical error, its use as a noun is a psychological rarity that almost no one, including psychologists, ever uses.

Just when I was beginning to get a little impatient with the book, along came a perfectly turned and harrowing chapter (pages 197-207) from the viewpoint of Blue, a woman escaping her abusive alcoholic husband. And that’s followed by the most pitch-perfect lyrical chapter of all, written in the rare second-person voice, about the janitor and drummer Thomas Frank. It’s a beauty from the first sentence (“Before you were born, you were a head and a tail in a milky pool — a swimmer.”) to the last (“Your heart starts from lack of breath when you see his drumstick go up and you know they’re coming, the dancers, and it’s time.”)

In spite of any shortcomings, this is in all likelihood a book with a destiny, a critically important American work that brings forgotten or marginalized lives strongly and disturbingly into the light of our literature.

When I read the powerful Prologue in Tommy Orange's novel There There through the First Look Book Club I knew I had to read this book. A distinct, strong voice offered an abbreviated history of Indian-European relations and our stereotyped images of Indians. It was brutal and blunt.

"We are the memories we don't remember, which live in us, which we feel, which make us sing and dance and pray the way we do, feelings from memories that flare and bloom unexpectedly in our lives like blood through a blanket from a wound made by a bullet fired by a man shooting us in the back for our hair, our heads, for a bounty, or just to get rid of us." Prologue, There There

I was a lucky giveaway winner and began reading the book as soon as it arrived.

Orange imagined a novel for the untold stories of urban Native Americans, people who have lost their traditions yet are labeled as 'other' by society. Readers meet a community of characters seeking to understand who they are, struggling with alcoholism, broken families, poverty, and addiction.

They are all headed to the Big Oakland Powwow, to reconnect with family or their heritage or to find an easy way out.

"We all came to the Big Oakland Powwow for different reasons. The messy, dangling threads of our lives got pulled into a braid--tied to the back of everything we'd been doing all along to get us here. We've been coming from miles. And we've been coming for years, generations, lifetimes, layered in prayer and handwoven regalia, beaded and sewn together, feathered, braided, blessed, and cursed." from Interlude, There There

There are a lot of characters--twelve--and each chapter skips from one character to another, building our understanding of a bigger picture. We know from the first character's story that everyone is heading into danger which creates tension as our investment in the characters deepens. The climax likewise is told from multiple viewpoints, and with Orange's beautiful writing, even violence becomes a dance and an awakening.

The book is already a national bestseller that has garnered acclaim. It is a sensational debut.

There There, is Here Here, I say in these troubled Times, where modern humankind resonates one generation to the next. Wisdom reveals to us that we are in great part, who our parents and grandparents were, and what happened to them, and those before them for thousands of years. Tommy Orange sheds profound Light on urban Indians, who have lost but seek roots of authenticity in a highly brutal complex world. There There did for me, in its unique way, what Dee Brown did in Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee, and what Jerry Ellis offers in Walking the Trail, One Man's Journey Along the Cherokee Trail of Tears. I highly recommend all three books. Great work, Mr.Orange. Keep the Sacred Fire Burning, for so many need the Light to lead them from their inner darkness as well as from the Darkness of our Most Troubled Times.

Yes, Tommy Orange writes well, but about halfway through I just got tired of reading his stories of dysfunction that seemed to merge with each other in a formless mass. I thought about the contrast with Sherman Alexie, who makes his characters come alive and keeps the reader engaged with his wonderful writing style and ironic wit. Or other writers dealing with the outcasts of our society, such Hernan Diaz, Louise Erdrich, or Wiley Cash. Not that this book doesn't deserve positive recognition, but I wonder about the motives of members of the white middle-class liberal Critical Establishment that oblige them to fall all over themselves to hype it. I felt the same way about the faux magical realism of the overrated "Underground Railroad" and similar works (after all, if Oprah liked it, well then....). Pulitzer Prize, indeed. Still, "There, There" is certainly worth a try, and I am well aware mine is a minority opinion.

What did I just read?! Super depressing and anticlimactic--at least I found it anticlimactic . . . in a grotesque way. First off, the only pleasing thing for me was that it is an easy read. As in, you can read through it pretty quickly! Plus, I had to read this for school, so I HAD to read it quickly.

The "f" word was mentioned far too many times. The "s" word was also prevalent. The "gd" word was only mentioned once (which I honestly found surprising--note the dry tone). In any case, there wasn't much in sexual content, which was also surprising. The worst it got is a mentioned rape. Nothing is described, but you know what happens. The characters were downright dismal individuals and completely lost. I felt sorry for a few of them. The ending . . . I won't even go into that!

I would personally say that this book did nothing to make me feel inspired or good. If anything, it just made me feel confused and saddened. I don't really have anything else to say about it.

Native Americans often fade into the shady past wearing buckskin and headfeathers, but Tommy Orange redefines his people by giving them a modern story. He builds a climactic event through individual natives who seem random at first, living broken dreams, seeking their identity while coping with life. I enjoyed the way Mr. Orange ties everyone together while keeping them apart. This story will haunt your thoughts long after the last page, questions blooming with ghostlike obsession. His foreword shouldn’t shock you but it most likely will. Modern Americans who are not Native American feel uncomfortable with the truth of our past, often learning a sugar coated history in school or a deceptive vision from Hollywood. The reality is cold and brutal much like the people today who once owned the right to exist here and live lives free from persecution or excommunication from the land, aliens in a land of their inheritance. There, There, may be fictional but it tells the truth.

I got this book from the library on the recommendation of Jenna Bush Hager. It is very different from what I usually read--historical fiction and mysteries. I did think I would learn something and I did. I am glad I read it but it was a tough read. I'm glad I didn't get the audible version, like a previous reviewer, I would not have been able to keep up with the characters. In fact, I had to take notes on each character and refer to them in each chapter. It will not appeal to everyone but it is short enough that you should read it anyway.
I will not give a summary as others have done this well. I really liked how the characters were interwoven.

"The wound that was made when white people came and took all that they took has never healed. An unattended wound gets infected. Becomes a new kind of wound like the history of what actually happened became a new kind of history. All these stories that we haven't been telling all this time, that we haven't been listening to, are just part of what we need to heal. Not that we're broken. And don't make the mistake of calling us resilient. To not have been destroyed, to not have given up, to have survived, is no bade of honor. Would you call an attempted murder victim resilient?

When we go to tell our stories, people think we want it to have gone different. People want to say things like "sore losers" and "move on already," "quit playing the blame game." But is it a game? Only those who have lost as much as we have see the particularly nasty slice of smile on someone who thinks they're winning when they say "Get over it." This is the thing: If you have the option to not think about or even consider history, whether you learned it right or not, or whether it even deserves consideration, that's how you know you're on board the ship that serves hors d'oeuvres and fluffs your pillows, while other are out at sea, swimming or drowning, or clinging to little inflatable rafts that they have to take turns keeping inflated, people short of breath, who've never heard of the words hors d'oeuvres or fluff. Then someone from up on the yacht says, "It's too bad those people down there are lazy, and not as smart and able as we are up here, we who have built these strong, large, stylish, boats ourselves, we who float the seven seas like kings." And then someone else on board says something like, "But your father gave you this yacht, and these are his servants who brought the hors d'oeuvres." At which point the person gets tossed overboard. . . . Then in whispers, while the agitators get sucked under the yacht, private agreements are made, precautions are measured out, and everyone quietly agrees to keep on quietly agreeing to the implied rule of law and to not think about what just happened. Soon, the father, who put these things in place, is only spoken of in the form of lore, stories told to children at night, under the stars, at which point there are suddenly several fathers, noble, wise forefathers. And the boat sails on unfettered."

This book has gotten lots of praise and rightfully so, it is beautifully written and there is a very musical rhythm to the writing. When I first read what the plot was, I wondered "How could I relate to this story?" But isn't that the point of reading? Reading something that you aren't familiar with about people or locations you don't know too much about. By getting out of "comfort" zone or expanding our knowledge is we learn and grow.

This is a very timely book and has come at the perfect time as we see the ugliness of Trump's words and policies. His spreading of lies and false information to divide people to a continue a narrative that isn't true. However, the spread of false information or the reshaping of history isn't something new. The United States has a very ugly past and has done some horrendous things. However, that past is never talked about or has been lied about.

This history and stories need to be told. Mr. Orange, at a reading I attended, said that most of his relatives have so much pain and don't like talking about the past. However, it is important that talk and let people know about the past. However, it is also important for us to also speak out about what we have done and correct the historical record. Most people aren't aware of the real history because we have been told and taught a much different history. Whether it is through our history books or the stories our ancestors pass down about our "heroic" ancestor that did . . . . Hopefully people will read "There There" and want to learn more and demand that the truth is finally told. We need to own up to the horrible actions our ancestors took and live up to our rewritten history of democracy and equality for all.

One of the downsides of reading a lot is the feeling that, while you still enjoy most of what you read, some of it tends to sound familiar—as if you’ve read it before. Which is not unreasonable, as ‘how many truly distinct plots there are in fiction’ is a subject of debate even among critics. Still, it makes it that much more exciting when I come upon something wholly unexpected that leaves me reeling. In this case it is Tommy Orange’s debut There There, an explosive novel representing a view of America few of us have ever considered and that our country as a whole would rather forget…or ignore.

There There is the story of twelve Native Americans as they make their way to Oakland, California for the Big Oakland Powwow. There is Orvil, a teenager who’s going to dance in a competition to earn some much-needed cash for his family; Jacquie, a middle-aged woman coming back home after decades away spent trying to straighten out her life after giving her daughter up for adoption at 17 and having a second daughter die; and Dene Oxendene, a young man making a documentary of Native Americans of all ages telling their stories. There are young men for whom a life of crime is the only way to make a living and another whose passion for coding has led him to the same place. They are people trying to get on and get by with life in whatever way they can and while their tribes may be different, their culture and the need to celebrate it is the same.

Alcoholism is the constant that pours through There There. Every character is either an alcoholic or is impacted by someone who is. Written with a bleak starkness Orange doesn’t make any excuses, simply states it as a fact of Native American life. Which, when considered, is not surprising. To go from being the proud inhabitants of a land to a people robbed of that land, stripped of their culture and even their names? How can such a loss of identity lead to anything other than unimaginable despair?

Through plain speech and scorching prose Orange raises eloquence to a new level. In the prologue paragraphs such as this

"Some of us came to cities to escape the reservation. We stayed after fighting in the Second World War. After Vietnam too. We stayed because the city sounds like a war, and you can’t leave a war once you’ve been, you can only keep it at bay—which is easier when you can see and hear it near you, that fast metal, that constant firing around you, cars up and down the streets and freeways like bullets. The quiet of the reservation, the side-of-the-highway towns, rural communities, that kind of silence just makes the sound of your brain on fire that much more pronounced."

flay the reader as to the facts of our government’s systematic policy to obliterate and subjugate Native Americans. With each sentence there is more reason to cringe and rightly so. But Orange doesn’t take his recitation of facts about the lies in American history into There There. Instead, he takes disparate people from multiple tribes and attaches them to one another with the fine threads of blood and family. They are all heading to the powwow for different reasons, but as the incredibly talented Orange spins these loose threads together the cloth tightens into a complex tapestry of rich heritage, culture, and spirituality. Orange is a voice that demands to be heard and this is a novel that should make us listen.

My favorite reading experiences either teach me about something I didn't know much about or shine a light on parts of our culture I am unfamiliar with. Part of the urgency of reading Junot Díaz, for example, is that the stories he tells are usually left on the margins if they get told at all. This is probably why I have such a problem with novels about white guys who can't get their shit together: that story has been told far too many times. 

The comparison to Díaz is apt for There There, which is a collection of interconnected stories involving Native Americans tethered to the Oakland area somehow. Each character is struggling to connect (or disconnect from) their shared Native ancestry, their families, and their complicated relationship to a country that tried to wipe out their stories. These tensions set each of them on a collision course with a robbery at the Big Oakland Powwow--a robbery that will go terribly, violently wrong (no spoiler there, the very first chapter is from one of the characters who will participate in the robbery, and it all unspools from there). 

If Orange sometimes goes a little too far with some of his narrative tricks, it's forgivable because he does such a great job rendering complex, interesting characters. Even the ones who feel a touch clichéd are drawn so well they can't help but be interesting. Orange also has a masterful grip on tone--building a sense of dread as the Powwow draws closer and closer. I also wrote notes as I progressed through the book, which is something I hadn't done in a long time. There are some great lines throughout, and I also wanted to figure out a lot of Orange's frequent references to mirrors/reflections. It's always a thrill to find a book you want to engage with.

And if the ending leaves a lot of strands hanging, I don't actually mind at all because it somehow feels satisfying. I have a lot of questions, but they don't leave me frustrated so much as curious to see what Orange does next. 

You can find more of my reviews on SupposedlyFun.com

I completely agree with all the kudos Tommy Orange is getting for THERE THERE. This book is dramatic, simply and beautifully written, amazingly powerful, well-crafted and leaves a lasting impression. Quite impressive for a debut novel.

The book is structured like a series of short stories, each chapter about different individuals, all of them anticipating an upcoming Indian gathering, in Oakland, CA. Some characters are old, some young. Each has its own distinct and believable voice. Some chapters relate stories that are decades old, others unfold as you read them. And many characters eventually wind up connected. 

Each story is a rich snapshot of contemporary Native American life, where people must continually confront so many of the daily demons faced by marginalized people. Poverty, prejudice, and political powerlessness are just the beginning. Physical abuse, unplanned pregnancies, obesity, drug abuse, unemployment, parental neglect and abandonment, and alcoholism-- lots of alcoholism-- are themes that recur throughout the novel. 

This is not what I would characterize as an enjoyable read. It’s intensely suspenseful, but the stories are generally not happy ones. The picture Orange paints of Native American life in the US is dark, tragic, and sad. And as a white American, I was left feeling shamed. But I’m glad I read the book because I came away from it feeling I had greater understanding for this often ignored segment of American life. And I don’t think any other book I’ve previously read has so clearly made personal all that this country has done and continues to do to Native American peoples.

This is not going to be a popular view, but I didn’t think There There was a very successful novel. The history it conveys and the points it makes about the treatment of Native Americans are extremely important and it is essential that Native American voices should be heard, but for me it didn’t make a compelling, readable or involving novel. I found the fragmented structure too disruptive and the multitude of stories, told in a very similar voice throughout, meant that I never quite engaged with each one before a cut to a different one.

The very fine song White Man’s World by Jason Isbell contains the couplet,
“I’m a white man living on a white man’s street
I’ve got the bones of the red man under my feet...”
and those two lines had as much impact on me as the whole of There There, I think. We really do need to hear the stories of those bones and of the living descendants of the bones’ owners, and I applaud Tommy Orange’s noble purpose in trying to tell some of them. However, this felt to me more like a rather fragmented history lesson than a novel. There are some very fine novels now about African American history and slavery (Colson Whitehead’s recent and excellent Underground Railroad, for example) and Native American history needs them too. There There isn’t bad by any means, but however great the need and however admirable its aim, for me it doesn’t come into that category.

(My thanks to Vintage for an ARC via NetGalley.)

I came to the store after reading 3 chapters to determine whether I could continue reading and thanks to both good reviews and negative reviews I cannot continue, I am a weenie about depressing stories. I could not see Schindler's List if this gives insight to my inabilities. "Jaws" ruined swimming for me over 40 years ago. Can't read any of Stephen King's books either.

I'll return this book to the library where the wait list is long and give the next reader a chance.
Not looking for a feel-good native novel, just can't read well written true stories unless there is some upside. Donating the retail price of this book to American Indian College Fund.

5+++++ stars!!!!! Absolutely phenomenal!!!!!
“There There” is a non-stop pace story... COULD NOT PUT THIS DOWN....
The stories in here are gut wrenching *intimate* about dislocation-identify-violence -loss-hope-and power.
“We have been defined by everyone else and continue to be slandered despite easy-to-look-up-Internet-facts about realities of our histories and current state as a people”.

The despair and beauty in Tommy Orange’s debut novel entwined the history of a nation and indigenous community in Oakland, Calif.
Incredible characters.
Dialogue with feelings.

Warmth, pride, sediments for Oakland-raised Tommy Orange!
Congratulations to him!!!
He knocked the ball out of the park with this outstanding novel!!!!

elysejody.... ( also grew up in Oakland)

There’s a page in the interlude halfway through Tommy Orange’s debut novel in which he talks about the names of Native Indians and lists the various ones that “were given to us…attempted translations and botched Indian names, random surnames, and names passed down from white American generals, admirals, and colonels, and just sometimes just colors.” It would be too long to list all the names here but this particular page said more to me about the plight of the Native Indians than more or less everything else in his book. And there was plenty.

Orange focuses on the Urban Indians of Oakland, California and uses a range of voices to tell his story. It is almost like a short story collection where each of the various characters interlink in some way and culminates in the Big Oakland Powwow which is a big deal for some of Orange’s characters but for us, his readers, seems like little more than a giant, overly commercialised carnival.

There’s no doubt it’s interesting to learn about this other world, this world of ‘left behinds’, and at first the stories hold attention and generate empathy. Here’s Edwin Black, overweight internet addict and constipation sufferer, with an insight that reflects not just the wired world but also the Natives’ dilemma of their perceived ‘duty’ to remember their roots: “The internet is like a brain trying to figure out a brain. I depend on the internet for recall now. There’s no reason to remember when it’s always just right there, like the way everyone used to know phone numbers by heart and now can’t even remember their own. Remembering itself is becoming old-fashioned.”

Another noteworthy observation comes from mental health counsellor Jacquie Red Feather on her flight to a conference about substance abuse as she contemplates the high suicide rate in the Native communities: “For how many years had there been federally funded programs trying to prevent suicide with billboards and hotlines? It was no wonder it was getting worse. You can’t sell life is okay when it’s not.”

Eventually, though, the relentlessly downbeat nature of the characters’ stories wears one down, much in the manner of Elizabeth Strout’s novel Olive Kitteridge; how much misery can one read about without getting overload and tuning out? I believe this is called ‘compassion fatigue’ and I’m afraid that’s how I felt by the end (about which I shall resist the urge to comment).

My thanks to Penguin Vintage for the review copy courtesy of NetGalley.

I started and ended my journey reading There There with tears in my eyes. Yes, it’s that good. Astonishingly, There There is a debut novel. I say astonishingly because it usually takes time and experience to produce this quality of novel. The book tells the stories of twelve Native American characters from Oakland who are preparing to attend a Powwow. Each of the twelve characters has their own reasons and motivations for attending. For some it is a spiritual or personally significant event, for others it’s an opportunity for advancement, both positive and negative.

The book is broken into sections: a prologue, “Remain”, “Reclaim”, Interlude, “Return”, and Powwow. The prologue and interlude are non-fiction, pieces that provide both history and social commentary related to the experiences and lives of Native Americans. And these sections are powerful, emotionally effective, and they enhance the fictional parts of the book in no small part because they are intricately connected with the author’s own heritage.

The fictional sections build up to the final Powwow where the 12 characters come together. Each chapter is told from the perspective of one of the 12 characters and as the book progresses, we see how the lives of all these characters are connected.

One of the things I loved about this book was that it was so fresh and gives readers a glimpse into the lives of Native Americans living in urban locations. This is not your traditional “life on the reservation” story, historical fiction, or Native folklore story (although stories do play a critical role in the book). Tommy Orange highlights the diversity of the Native American experience set in the context of a similar shared history. And he does so from a place of personal experience. The characters are complex, deeply flawed, and all immeasurably impacted by their history.

Many of the characters in this book carry around sadness and heartbreak while being required to metaphorically dance while doing so. Dance, music, and storytelling are also central to many of the characters as means through which to connect or reconnect to their own heritage.

There There is a deeply emotional book. It has been described as a “new American epic” by the New York Times. It’s beautifully written and captures a multitude of very different voices. Some sections are poetic, others funny, others obscene and these voices match the varied characters. It’s a worthwhile read and one I wholeheartedly recommend.

Here are a few quotes from the book:

But what we are is what our ancestors did. How they survived. We are the memories we don’t remember, which live in us, which we feel, which make us sing and dance and pray the way we do, feelings from memories that flare and bloom unexpectedly in our lives like blood through a blanket from a wound made by a bullet fired by a man shooting us in the back for our hair, for our heads, for our bounty, or just to get rid of us.

She shuffles her music and it lands on Smokey Robinson’s “The Tracks of My Tears.” This song gives her that strange mix of sad an happy. Plus it’s upbeat. That’s what she loves about Motown, the way it asks you to carry sadness and heartbreak but dance while doing so.

You didn’t think of tapping or knocking as drumming until you actually started drumming many years later. It would have been good to know that you’d always done something naturally. But there was too much going on with everyone else in your family for anyone to notice you should probably have done something else with your fingers and toes than tap, with your mind and time than knock all the surfaces in your life like you were looking for a way in.

So much sorrow as the characters in There There seek connection and struggle with identity…an honest and important debut!

Author Tommy Orange gives us a window into Native American Indian suffering and challenges with skill. We follow more than a dozen characters, hearing their stories as they prepare to attend a major Pow Wow, a coming together of Natives from all over. As we know, their land was taken away from them, but most have never lived the traditional Indian life on a reservation. They are interested in their own culture and history yet they know so very little about where they truly came from, the people, the places, and the rituals and traditions. Not knowing their past contributes to unsettled feelings, and a sense of belonging is challenging and often laced with despair.

Tony Loneman was born to an alcoholic and has some mental deficits. He deals drugs. He plans to go to the Pow Wow to steal money.

Dene Oxendene smokes weed. He takes over his uncle’s movie making project about Indians and their stories. He plans to go to the Pow Wow to interview Natives.

Opal Viola Victoria Bear Shield lived on Alcatraz in protest when she was a child, with her mom, who died of cancer and her sister. She plans to go to the Pow Wow to see her grandson dance.

Edwin Black searches online and finds his long lost father. He plans to meet him at the Pow Wow.

Everyone is searching for their history, a means to an end and connection while battling despair, addiction, weight issues and social challenges. I found this book, a collection of integrated personal stories, compelling and tragic. Not knowing who you are can be devastating and hearing the words of a character who is half Native and half white, the struggle is evident as Orange writes, “You’re from a people who took and took and took and took. And from a people taken. You were both and neither. ”

With clarity and honesty, There There is a story of the urban Native Americans, an inherently beautiful people with a painful past and a deep sense of spirituality. I highly recommend this book.

It is astonishing the way native American Tommy Orange in his formidable debut novel There There finds richness and depth within a limited vocabulary. For this reader, in other writers such as Junot Diaz and Dagoberto Gilb, the limited vocabulary is too often crippling. Listen to the way the bare language opens, engages and nearly sings in the first paragraph of Orange’s second chapter:

“Dene Oxendene takes the dead escalator two steps at a time at the Fruitvale Station. When he makes it up to the platform, the train he thought he was missing comes to a stop on the opposite side. A single drop of sweat drips down the side of his face from out of his beanie. Deme wipes the sweat with his finger, then pulls the beanie off and shakes it out, mad like the sweat came from it and not his head. He looks down the tracks and breathes out a breath he watches rise and then disappear. He smells cigarette smoke, which makes him want one, except that they tire him out. He wants a cigarette that invigorates. He wants a drug that works. He refuses to drink. Smokes too much weed. Nothing works.” Lord, you almost want to scan his lines.

Here’s mail carrier Opal Viola Victoria Bear Shield, who has some of the ethnic superstition and toughness of women in Toni Morrison’s Song of Solomon: “A few weeks back she found a video of Orvil powwow dancing in his room. Opal regularly checks their phones while they sleep. She looks at what pictures and videos they take, their text messages, and their browser histories. None of them have shown signs of especially worrisome depravity yet. But it’s only a matter of time. Opal believes there is a dark curiosity alive in each of us. She believes we all do precisely what we think we can get away with. The way Opal sees it, privacy is for adults. You keep a close eye over your kids, you keep them in line.”

As Orange spins his hard, compelling narratives of twelve contemporary Native American lives, along the way he restores some history for the history-deprived, including quoting the eloquent Crazy Horse’s Prophecy:

“Upon suffering beyond suffering; the Red Nation shall rise again and it shall be a blessing for a sick world. A world filled with broken promises, selfishness and separations. A world longing for light again. I see a time of seven generations, when all the colors of mankind will gather under the sacred Tree of Life and the whole Earth will become one circe again.”

For all the darkness, the book is not without humor, as when obese , unemployed Edwin Black, addicted to the Internet, says: “I’d clicked a link to unload The Lone Ranger. Everyone agreed on how bad it was, in so many ways. But I was excited to see it. There’s something about seeing Johnny Depp fail so badly that gives me strength.”

It does need to be said that when Orange reaches too far beyond his usual vocabulary, the result can be jarringly wrong, true to neither his own voice nor the voice of his characters, as when we get this observation about Dene Oxendene: “He is regularly subject to solipsism’s recursive, drowning affect.” Where on earth did that come from? And if that “affect” is not a typographical error, its use as a noun is a psychological rarity that almost no one, including psychologists, ever uses.

Just when I was beginning to get a little impatient with the book, along came a perfectly turned and harrowing chapter (pages 197-207) from the viewpoint of Blue, a woman escaping her abusive alcoholic husband. And that’s followed by the most pitch-perfect lyrical chapter of all, written in the rare second-person voice, about the janitor and drummer Thomas Frank. It’s a beauty from the first sentence (“Before you were born, you were a head and a tail in a milky pool — a swimmer.”) to the last (“Your heart starts from lack of breath when you see his drumstick go up and you know they’re coming, the dancers, and it’s time.”)

In spite of any shortcomings, this is in all likelihood a book with a destiny, a critically important American work that brings forgotten or marginalized lives strongly and disturbingly into the light of our literature.

When I read the powerful Prologue in Tommy Orange's novel There There through the First Look Book Club I knew I had to read this book. A distinct, strong voice offered an abbreviated history of Indian-European relations and our stereotyped images of Indians. It was brutal and blunt.

"We are the memories we don't remember, which live in us, which we feel, which make us sing and dance and pray the way we do, feelings from memories that flare and bloom unexpectedly in our lives like blood through a blanket from a wound made by a bullet fired by a man shooting us in the back for our hair, our heads, for a bounty, or just to get rid of us." Prologue, There There

I was a lucky giveaway winner and began reading the book as soon as it arrived.

Orange imagined a novel for the untold stories of urban Native Americans, people who have lost their traditions yet are labeled as 'other' by society. Readers meet a community of characters seeking to understand who they are, struggling with alcoholism, broken families, poverty, and addiction.

They are all headed to the Big Oakland Powwow, to reconnect with family or their heritage or to find an easy way out.

"We all came to the Big Oakland Powwow for different reasons. The messy, dangling threads of our lives got pulled into a braid--tied to the back of everything we'd been doing all along to get us here. We've been coming from miles. And we've been coming for years, generations, lifetimes, layered in prayer and handwoven regalia, beaded and sewn together, feathered, braided, blessed, and cursed." from Interlude, There There

There are a lot of characters--twelve--and each chapter skips from one character to another, building our understanding of a bigger picture. We know from the first character's story that everyone is heading into danger which creates tension as our investment in the characters deepens. The climax likewise is told from multiple viewpoints, and with Orange's beautiful writing, even violence becomes a dance and an awakening.

The book is already a national bestseller that has garnered acclaim. It is a sensational debut.

There There, is Here Here, I say in these troubled Times, where modern humankind resonates one generation to the next. Wisdom reveals to us that we are in great part, who our parents and grandparents were, and what happened to them, and those before them for thousands of years. Tommy Orange sheds profound Light on urban Indians, who have lost but seek roots of authenticity in a highly brutal complex world. There There did for me, in its unique way, what Dee Brown did in Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee, and what Jerry Ellis offers in Walking the Trail, One Man's Journey Along the Cherokee Trail of Tears. I highly recommend all three books. Great work, Mr.Orange. Keep the Sacred Fire Burning, for so many need the Light to lead them from their inner darkness as well as from the Darkness of our Most Troubled Times.

Yes, Tommy Orange writes well, but about halfway through I just got tired of reading his stories of dysfunction that seemed to merge with each other in a formless mass. I thought about the contrast with Sherman Alexie, who makes his characters come alive and keeps the reader engaged with his wonderful writing style and ironic wit. Or other writers dealing with the outcasts of our society, such Hernan Diaz, Louise Erdrich, or Wiley Cash. Not that this book doesn't deserve positive recognition, but I wonder about the motives of members of the white middle-class liberal Critical Establishment that oblige them to fall all over themselves to hype it. I felt the same way about the faux magical realism of the overrated "Underground Railroad" and similar works (after all, if Oprah liked it, well then....). Pulitzer Prize, indeed. Still, "There, There" is certainly worth a try, and I am well aware mine is a minority opinion.

What did I just read?! Super depressing and anticlimactic--at least I found it anticlimactic . . . in a grotesque way. First off, the only pleasing thing for me was that it is an easy read. As in, you can read through it pretty quickly! Plus, I had to read this for school, so I HAD to read it quickly.

The "f" word was mentioned far too many times. The "s" word was also prevalent. The "gd" word was only mentioned once (which I honestly found surprising--note the dry tone). In any case, there wasn't much in sexual content, which was also surprising. The worst it got is a mentioned rape. Nothing is described, but you know what happens. The characters were downright dismal individuals and completely lost. I felt sorry for a few of them. The ending . . . I won't even go into that!

I would personally say that this book did nothing to make me feel inspired or good. If anything, it just made me feel confused and saddened. I don't really have anything else to say about it.

Native Americans often fade into the shady past wearing buckskin and headfeathers, but Tommy Orange redefines his people by giving them a modern story. He builds a climactic event through individual natives who seem random at first, living broken dreams, seeking their identity while coping with life. I enjoyed the way Mr. Orange ties everyone together while keeping them apart. This story will haunt your thoughts long after the last page, questions blooming with ghostlike obsession. His foreword shouldn’t shock you but it most likely will. Modern Americans who are not Native American feel uncomfortable with the truth of our past, often learning a sugar coated history in school or a deceptive vision from Hollywood. The reality is cold and brutal much like the people today who once owned the right to exist here and live lives free from persecution or excommunication from the land, aliens in a land of their inheritance. There, There, may be fictional but it tells the truth.

I got this book from the library on the recommendation of Jenna Bush Hager. It is very different from what I usually read--historical fiction and mysteries. I did think I would learn something and I did. I am glad I read it but it was a tough read. I'm glad I didn't get the audible version, like a previous reviewer, I would not have been able to keep up with the characters. In fact, I had to take notes on each character and refer to them in each chapter. It will not appeal to everyone but it is short enough that you should read it anyway.
I will not give a summary as others have done this well. I really liked how the characters were interwoven.

I enjoyed this book a lot. It reminded me of Leslie Marmon Silko. Deep, a little disturbing, and very heartfelt. I loved the descriptions of Oakland and seamless movement through different characters and voices. I get the feeling that Orange's Native American depictions are right on, but I'm an old white dude, so what do I know?

The subject matter is tough and I honestly don't get the ending, but I'm thinking about it the day after finishing it, and that's a very good sign. Looking forward to Orange's next book!

Boy, Mr Orange dragged out the worst parts of Native life. I was so bummed that he didn't show any of the positive aspects. Not all Indian people are wife beaters and alcoholics.
I also felt like the powwow story was rushed, almost like he had to make a deadline.
Also, you almost have to keep a list of characters. I got so confused by all the jumping around.
I like Sherman Alexie and Louise Erdrich's books more.

I appreciate the attention to Native American culture, and the burden of finding one’s voice in a culture that reduces identity to stereotype. And, the final sequences unfolded with sufficient drama. But my goodness this was a tedious read. The characters were insufficiently developed. The coarse language was grating. By the time the story arrived at the long awaited Pow Wow I wasn’t sure why I should care. I give it three stars only for the story’s intended pathos. The concept of “there there” as Stein defined it had so much rich possibility. But I could never figure where “there” used to be. It seemed as if “there” was always somewhere else that the majority of characters were angry to have missed. The New Yorker missed the beat with its high praise.

There There is one of the most beautifully written novels I've ever read. The speech given by one of the dancers in the men's locker room right before the grand entrance to the pow wow is powerful. Tommy Orange is a gifted writer and I look forward to reading more from him in the future.

This book follows the narratives of many different urban Native American individuals with ties to Oakland, CA. Although at first it can be a little difficult to keep track of the dozen or so characters the story follows, the reader is left a broad impression of many common themes, centering on the identity conflict many urban Native Americans experience. As the story progresses, the storylines converge, revealing their connections. Although it can be difficult to have so many central characters, I think Tommy Orange pulls it off, leaving the reader with a broader sense of the challenges this community faces than a single narrative would expose.

The prologue and interludes were thoughtful, but the ending had no motivstion and no understanding of why a simple theft turned into a massacre. I read it through upon recommendstion, but I would recommend instead Sherman Alexie's book about his mother, I think titled "you dont have to say you love me" I know Alexie is under fire for sexual misbehavior, but should we stop looking at Picasso because he was a despicable person? I wanted to enjoy "there there" upon reading the historical prologue and some of the character descriptions, but sadly the book just fell apart at the pow wow.

It is hard not to appreciate this book on two levels. It is a literary achievement, but also because it is a story of this indigenous community that has failed because of bad decisions by the federal government over more then 150 years. Possibly, the greatest failure has to do with the terrible state of the education system on the reservations. Continued poverty, alcoholism and drug addiction, and crime and abuse all result from not understanding the value of education as a way out of the failure that seems to be hard wired into the DNA of the Native American. It is a sad book because of our responsibility for the failure.

A tour de force, this novel will make you feel deeply, think deeply. So relevant to the modern world and the current state of our country. It's a work of genius with its multiple points of view and gorgeous writing.

I thought that it was a pretty interesting book with the characters pretty well developed. You have to pay attention to what you are reading as it does bounce around some from character to character, but it was not that distracting. I didn’t really care for the ending, although it did leave it open for the reader to imagine what transpired afterwards.

A must read for this moment in our country.
Heartbreaking and raw, as authentic as it gets. There, There is here and now for a reason.
Thank you Tommy Orange for an important and necessary book. Everyone else: just read it.

This book is just amazing, beautifully written with memorable characters, and a plot that comes crashing together at the end. That ending! Really looking forward to future works by this author! This is one of the best books of the year and will be on many award lists!

This is, unquestionably, one of the best books I've ever read.

It's profound and intricate and heartbreaking. It's about history and story and life and memory, and the writing is magnificent. I want to dive into these pages and never come up for air.

Please read this book.

I really got hooked after reading the prologue, and I think Tommy is a good writer, but that was it. Unfortunately, the magic stopped after the prologue and the story/stories seemed to wander and feel disconnected. It's clear that the author is angry about the way Native Americans have been treated throughout history, and he's absolutely got legitimate reason to be, and I will again say he's a good writer, but I wish he had come up with better stories to get the message across. This came across--in my opinion--as whiny and boring. I stopped reading after about 100 pages.

current fiction is so inferior to the novels from earlier years...this is like The Story of Joan--not as horrid as that book--but just as disjointed and jumpy...i'm happy for the author because First Nation people in the USA deserve so much from us...as a former English teacher, this book is just not for me

The first novel I've read in a while where I was captivated. I loved his way of writing, the narrative of each character, and the weaving of the story. It's harsh in parts, yet beautiful in others. Highly recommend.

There There is one of the most beautifully written novels I've ever read. The speech given by one of the dancers in the men's locker room right before the grand entrance to the pow wow is powerful. Tommy Orange is a gifted writer and I look forward to reading more from him in the future.

This book follows the narratives of many different urban Native American individuals with ties to Oakland, CA. Although at first it can be a little difficult to keep track of the dozen or so characters the story follows, the reader is left a broad impression of many common themes, centering on the identity conflict many urban Native Americans experience. As the story progresses, the storylines converge, revealing their connections. Although it can be difficult to have so many central characters, I think Tommy Orange pulls it off, leaving the reader with a broader sense of the challenges this community faces than a single narrative would expose.

The prologue and interludes were thoughtful, but the ending had no motivstion and no understanding of why a simple theft turned into a massacre. I read it through upon recommendstion, but I would recommend instead Sherman Alexie's book about his mother, I think titled "you dont have to say you love me" I know Alexie is under fire for sexual misbehavior, but should we stop looking at Picasso because he was a despicable person? I wanted to enjoy "there there" upon reading the historical prologue and some of the character descriptions, but sadly the book just fell apart at the pow wow.

It is hard not to appreciate this book on two levels. It is a literary achievement, but also because it is a story of this indigenous community that has failed because of bad decisions by the federal government over more then 150 years. Possibly, the greatest failure has to do with the terrible state of the education system on the reservations. Continued poverty, alcoholism and drug addiction, and crime and abuse all result from not understanding the value of education as a way out of the failure that seems to be hard wired into the DNA of the Native American. It is a sad book because of our responsibility for the failure.

A tour de force, this novel will make you feel deeply, think deeply. So relevant to the modern world and the current state of our country. It's a work of genius with its multiple points of view and gorgeous writing.

I thought that it was a pretty interesting book with the characters pretty well developed. You have to pay attention to what you are reading as it does bounce around some from character to character, but it was not that distracting. I didn’t really care for the ending, although it did leave it open for the reader to imagine what transpired afterwards.

A must read for this moment in our country.
Heartbreaking and raw, as authentic as it gets. There, There is here and now for a reason.
Thank you Tommy Orange for an important and necessary book. Everyone else: just read it.

This book is just amazing, beautifully written with memorable characters, and a plot that comes crashing together at the end. That ending! Really looking forward to future works by this author! This is one of the best books of the year and will be on many award lists!

This is, unquestionably, one of the best books I've ever read.

It's profound and intricate and heartbreaking. It's about history and story and life and memory, and the writing is magnificent. I want to dive into these pages and never come up for air.

Please read this book.

I really got hooked after reading the prologue, and I think Tommy is a good writer, but that was it. Unfortunately, the magic stopped after the prologue and the story/stories seemed to wander and feel disconnected. It's clear that the author is angry about the way Native Americans have been treated throughout history, and he's absolutely got legitimate reason to be, and I will again say he's a good writer, but I wish he had come up with better stories to get the message across. This came across--in my opinion--as whiny and boring. I stopped reading after about 100 pages.

current fiction is so inferior to the novels from earlier years...this is like The Story of Joan--not as horrid as that book--but just as disjointed and jumpy...i'm happy for the author because First Nation people in the USA deserve so much from us...as a former English teacher, this book is just not for me

The weaving the characters were beautifully done. Also, the author touches on some key points Natives are facing today. If you come from the Native American background: you should definitely read this.

The first novel I've read in a while where I was captivated. I loved his way of writing, the narrative of each character, and the weaving of the story. It's harsh in parts, yet beautiful in others. Highly recommend.

This story does not hold together. Few of the characters are remarkable enough to remember when they reappear at various points in the story. I should not have to do so much work to try to make the story make sense. I feel as though reviewers got entranced with the inside story of one corner of the current Native American world and the rhapsodic early chapters, inhaled some of the hype, and are now crowing about a really mediocre book.

Amazing book. It is an emotional, detailed book about those that are native. It gives a clear understanding of what life is like. It kept me intrigued through the entire story. I almost cried during a couple chapters. Would highly recommend

So overrated. I wanted so badly to love this novel but it's just not good. I'll let it speak for itself. This is an actual passage of dialogue from the book. In this scene an uncle is talking to his nephew. The dialogue is terribly stilted and stereotypical:

"We don't have time, Nephew, time has us. It holds us in its mouth like an owl holds a field mouse. We shiver. We struggle for release, and then it pecks out our eyes and intestines for sustenance and we die the death of field mice."

Who talks like that? NO ONE. And the whole book is full of unbelievable and stilted language like this. Don't believe the hype.

I'm afraid I'm used to only reading very good, very intelligent books. Orange writes about the lives of mostly poor, mostly not very smart, descendants of American Indians living in Oakland, California. I bought the book because his prologue was very well written, with some very nicely phrased thoughts that I couldn't have come up with myself. But the stories of the people he writes about seem mundane -- though interesting if life among those "disinherited from the good life" is interesting. I realize, though, that the author is probably only trying to show a realistic picture of their lives, and he does succeed at that.

I have never written a book review before. But this book was so bad I am writing my first one. Do not jump on the bandwagon and read this book. I always buy and enjoy books based off New York Times best seller lists and I got this one one because Jenna bush haggar on the today show said it was good. Such a waste of money. I kept waiting for something to happen the entire book and when it finally did it was not worth the read. I only finished reading this book to find out what happens in the shooting at the end and the author could not even make the culmination point interesting.

I got tired of the questing and yearning for identity. We get it. Is that all there is to it? The most interesting parts were when characters attempted to break out of master narratives and tell a new story yet in the end it seemed they were being forced back into tiresome tropes. It resolves into an elegiac and what I wanted was more a literature of resistance. The Prologue and Interlude were best - moments of formal innovation. More of that was needed in the characterization itself - characters that don't fit easily into a mold, more like Thomas Frank. The end was too Hollywood. I get it - another mass shooting. But really? Why? I think the author's creativity may have been stifled and the plot forced to conform to conventional story telling conventions by editors and other corporate tastemakers. Let the artist's vision prevail and let literature do what it needs to do in imagining the unpredictable, hidden, and unacknowledged. Not the same old tired protest.