A Chapter From RAIN IS NOT MY INDIAN NAME
Warning: this page gives away some events and language from the novel.
- Whose grave does Rain visit at the cemetery?
- What is Queenie’s tribal heritage?
- What did happen on that last night between Rain and Galen?
For Book Talks Or For Your Journal
RAIN IS NOT MY INDIAN NAME is not a long novel, and yet a great deal happens within its timeline. Part of the reason that it is short is because, purposely, not everything is spelled out for the reader. Many people think of silence as an absence. But really, silence can say a great deal.
Can you think of any examples of this in Rain’s narrative or in particular scenes?
What role does silence play in your own communication style?
Rain decides that Galen’s actions regarding her and Queenie were motivated by his mother’s influence.
Do you agree? How does finding out these past events affect Rain’s feelings toward Galen?
How does she deal with that?
The theme and characters in a book are different for every reader because every reader brings to them his or her own life experiences and perceptions. This may be especially true for novels like this one, which is more about asking questions than giving answers. Too often tests will ask what an author meant by this or that in a story, and the theory seems to be that there’s one right answer. There’s not. (Feel free to quote me on that one).
If you’re discussing this in a group, do any of you disagree about something in the story? Try to explain why you feel this way. Listen respectfully to one another. Remember that the relationship between every novel and each of its readers is a unique one.
The first person who I loved that died was my great uncle Dutch. I don’t remember how old I was, four or five maybe. It’s one of my first memories. I don’t remember the funeral itself, but I do remember being in the parking lot afterward. My mom told me that Uncle Dutch was living in the clouds. I took her completely literally, and for years I would swing as high as I could to tell Uncle Dutch that I loved him and other, less important details of my day-to-day life.
I’ve always loved that idea, that a swing could give me some kind of pipeline to my loved ones who’ve passed away. That’s why the swings imagery is in the beginning and end of this story. That’s why I still swing sometimes.