A young Oakland boy dons a feather headdress and dances in front of his grandmother’s mirror. He doesn’t know anything about his heritage, doesn’t know his parents. His grandmother takes care of him and his brothers, and she’s “openly against any of them doing anything Indian.” He doesn’t know how this moment should make him feel.
He’s one of many Native American characters in Tommy Orange’s debut novel, There There.
Gertrude Stein once said about Oakland, “There is no there there.” Early on, one character notes the context behind the famous line—Stein returned to Oakland to find it unrecognizable, her childhood home gone.
Another character listens to “There There,” by Radiohead. (“Just because you feel it / Doesn’t mean it’s there.”)
And the title also calls to mind the cursory, timeworn consolation: “There, there.” Those who say it admit no blame, and those who hear it are not consoled.
A big powwow is coming to the Oakland Coliseum, where many characters will converge. One prepares by dancing in a headdress. One young man prepares to meet his father for the first time. Others are 3D-printing plastic guns that will go undetected by security. PLEASE READ
