Bests & Worsts Reviews from Amazon

Everything I have heard the author say on NPR about the Iñuit rings true to my own experiences. More than 40 years ago, I met 16 young Iñuit children, was amazed by their calm maturity, and moved to their village in Arctic Alaska (with the village council's permission). Our children lived among the Iñuit from birth until they left for college. I coached our sons' mostly Iñuit youth softball teams for a decade. We lost more often than not, but not ONCE did a parent complain to me about our team's performance or my coaching. I can think of no better place in the world to raise a child. I've pre-ordered the book. When I've had a chance to read it, I'll update my review. ---------------- I have read the book, and I like it. This is the story of smart, sensitive, frustrated 3-year-old girl (Rosy) who tries to reform her smart, hard-charging, professional, angry, and clueless mother into an adult who will listen, understand, free her daughter from near constant oppression, and let go of the tensions driving them apart. The mother (author Michealeen Doucleef) is a slow learner burdened by her own childhood experiences, but also self-aware and resourceful. Their emotional and geographic journey follows a happy and instructive path. Way to go Rosy! Doucleef – a self-confessed terrible parent – had the brilliant idea of turning her obvious parenting failures into a book project, both to satisfy her deep curiosity about Indigenous parenting and to finance her own reformation. Through determination and with lots of help, she gradually works her way back to solid parenting ground, learning lessons that should benefit anyone willing to journey with her. Doucleef has a self-deprecating nature that Iñuit admire, but at times her self-deprecation seems to me more like a literary device than true humility. I can live with that. Doucleef’s unexpected encounter with Chubby Mata (p. 216-217 in the first edition) moved me to tears. If you don’t know about Jean Briggs and Chubby Mata, then the encounter won’t have the same effect on you, but that’s OK. I am not surprised that Mata’s family loved Jean Briggs. For me, Doucleef's encounter not only increased my already considerable respect for Jean Briggs, but it muted criticism Doucleef is getting for misrepresenting Indigenous people. For decades, I have recommended Jean Briggs’ books and papers to newcomers to rural Alaska. I plan to recommend Doucleef’s book, too, especially to clueless elementary school teachers from the Lower 48 facing their first Iñuit classroom. Some get it, some don’t. I hope an adult Rosy, like Chubby Mata here, is able to report back to us on what it was like living with the childish version of Michaeleen. There have been a few negative reviews, here and elsewhere. To get a sense of the problem, one Amazon reviewer recommended Rebecca Onion’s review of Hunt, Gather, Parent in Slate, so I read it. I also read Shannon Withycombe’s Twitter blasts. Here is my take. Doucleef does not ignore the science nor the modernization of Indigenous societies. Readable scientific diversions are embedded throughout the book (for an example, see p. 236-239 in the first edition) and referenced in 15 pages of endnotes. It is not that Doucleef ignored the science, it’s just that she didn’t adopt the perspectives that Onion and Withycombe prefer. This happens all the time in science, and it’s healthy. Criticism is what academics do at conferences and in journals. They battle over ideas, over perspectives, and over who should get credit. A PhD chemist (Doucleef) who dares tread on cultural anthropology or early childhood education is going to get hammered, especially if they write a popular book. Very few psychologists, anthropologists, or journalists live among Indigenous people for very long, not even superb anthropologists like Jean Briggs. Academics and journalists live in cities because that’s where the money is. Like Doucleef, they do intermittent field work. Like Doucleef, many are fascinated with Indigenous people. Academics butter their bread with theories and papers that they hope will win grants, lure graduate students, and get them tenure. Academics advance their careers through production and publication just as journalists do. Doucleef is not writing for academics. She is writing for parents who are at their wits end. Consider the academic bickering if you will, but don’t ignore Doucleef because of it. For those who wonder about my credentials, I am an interdisciplinary PhD trained by anthropologists, biologists, ecologists, and economists. My undergraduate degree was a Bachelor of Journalism. I also lived and worked in small Alaskan Iñuit communities for 30 years. As I said in my initial note, we raised our children among the Iñuit. Had Doucleef shared authorship and editorial control with some of her key respondents (not a bad idea!), this book might have been even better, and would have been an example of the “co-production of knowledge.” Her current critics probably would have been silent.