You know how sometimes a book just gets under your skin? Like, it burrows deep and sets up camp in your mind, refusing to leave even after you’ve turned the last page? That’s “Wandering Stars” for you. Tommy Orange’s follow-up to his knockout debut “There There” is a gut punch of a novel that’ll leave you reeling, maybe even a little shell-shocked. But man, what a ride.
Orange picks up the threads he left dangling in “There There,” weaving them into a tapestry that spans generations of Indigenous trauma and resilience. It’s heavy stuff, no doubt about it. But Orange’s prose has this hypnotic quality that pulls you in, even when you want to look away. He’s got a knack for making you feel the weight of history pressing down on his characters, while also making them feel achingly, painfully human.
The Long Shadow of History
Okay, let’s dive in. “Wandering Stars” kicks off in 1864 with the Sand Creek Massacre – a real historical event where U.S. troops slaughtered hundreds of Cheyenne and Arapaho people. It’s brutal, unflinching stuff. Orange doesn’t spare us the gory details, but he’s not just shock value either. He wants us to feel the reverberations of this violence echoing down through the generations.
We follow Star, a young survivor, as he’s carted off to Fort Marion Prison Castle. There, he meets Richard Henry Pratt, this evangelical prison guard with big plans to “civilize” Indigenous people. Pratt’s the guy who went on to found the Carlisle Indian Industrial School, which… yikes. If you don’t know about these schools, buckle up. They were basically factories for erasing Native culture, forcing kids to forget their languages and traditions.
Orange’s depiction of Fort Marion and Carlisle is claustrophobic, oppressive. You can almost feel the walls closing in on these characters as they’re stripped of their identities. It’s infuriating, but also sadly familiar if you know your American history.
The Ties That Bind (and Strangle)
Fast forward a generation, and we’re following Star’s son, Charles, at Carlisle. The cycle of trauma continues as Charles faces brutality from – get this – the same guy who tormented his father. It’s like Orange is showing us this unbroken chain of pain, linking past and present.
There’s a glimmer of hope, though, in Charles’ connection with a fellow student, Opal Viola. Their relationship feels like a lifeline in a sea of cruelty. Orange writes these tender moments with such care, you can’t help but root for these kids to find some kind of happiness.
But this is Tommy Orange we’re talking about. He’s not here to give us neat, happy endings. The legacy of Carlisle casts a long shadow, and we see how it shapes not just Charles and Opal, but generations to come.
Oakland, Present Day: The Aftermath
Alright, now we’re back in familiar territory if you’ve read “There There.” We’re in Oakland, 2018, dealing with the fallout from that powwow shooting. Opal Viola Victoria Bear Shield (yeah, that Opal) is trying to hold her family together after her nephew Orvil nearly died.
This is where Orange really flexes his muscles as a writer. He captures the messy, complicated reality of trauma and recovery with unflinching honesty. Orvil’s descent into pill addiction, his obsession with school shooting videos on YouTube – it’s uncomfortable to read, but feels painfully true.
And then there’s Lony, Orvil’s younger brother, dealing with PTSD in his own way. The scenes of him secretly cutting himself, trying to connect with his Cheyenne heritage through blood rituals… man, they’re tough to get through. But Orange writes with such empathy, you can’t help but feel for this kid grasping for some kind of meaning.
A Tapestry of Voices
One of the things I love about Orange’s writing is how he weaves together multiple perspectives. He’s got this knack for creating distinct voices that still feel part of a larger whole. It’s like he’s showing us different facets of the Indigenous experience, but also how they’re all connected.
The way he jumps between time periods could be disorienting in less skilled hands. But Orange makes it feel natural, like we’re following the threads of history as they unspool. It’s a reminder that the past isn’t really past, you know? It’s always there, shaping the present in ways we might not even realize.
Style and Substance
Let’s talk about Orange’s prose for a sec. The guy can write, no doubt about it. His sentences have this raw, urgent quality that matches the intensity of his subject matter. But he’s not all grit and darkness – there are moments of unexpected beauty, even humor, that catch you off guard.
I gotta say, though, this isn’t an easy read. Orange doesn’t pull his punches when it comes to depicting violence or the harsh realities of addiction and trauma. It’s not gratuitous, but it is intense. If you’re looking for a light beach read, maybe look elsewhere.
The Big Picture
So what’s Orange getting at with all this? On one level, “Wandering Stars” is a searing indictment of America’s treatment of Indigenous people. He’s shining a light on the ugly parts of history that often get glossed over in textbooks.
But it’s also a deeply human story about identity, family, and the struggle to find meaning in the face of overwhelming pain. Orange is asking some big questions about how we carry the weight of the past, and whether healing is even possible when the wounds run so deep.
It’s heavy stuff, no doubt. But there’s also a thread of resilience running through the book that keeps it from feeling completely hopeless. These characters are survivors, even when they’re barely hanging on.
The Booker Buzz
Oh, and did I mention “Wandering Stars” is on the Booker Prize 2024 longlist? Yeah, Orange is playing in the big leagues now. Not that he wasn’t already after the success of “There There,” but this feels like a confirmation that he’s a major voice in contemporary literature.
It’ll be interesting to see how it fares in the Booker race. The subject matter is definitely timely and important, but the fragmented structure and intense content might be polarizing for some readers. Personally, I think it’s absolutely deserving of the nod.
The Verdict
Look, “Wandering Stars” isn’t an easy book to read, but it’s an important one. Orange has crafted a powerful, haunting exploration of generational trauma and the ongoing impact of America’s colonial past. It’s the kind of book that’ll stick with you long after you’ve finished it, making you see the world a little differently.
If you loved “There There,” this is a must-read. It expands on those themes in really interesting ways, giving us a deeper look at the historical roots of the issues Orange is grappling with. And if you’re new to Orange’s work, well… maybe start with “There There” to ease yourself in, but definitely circle back to this one.
Is it perfect? Nah, what book is? The multiple timelines and perspectives can be a lot to keep track of sometimes. And like I said, the content is heavy – this isn’t a book you breeze through.
But man, when Orange is firing on all cylinders, there’s nothing quite like it. He’s got a way of making history feel urgently present, of making you feel the weight of centuries in a single sentence. “Wandering Stars” is a reminder of the power of storytelling to confront uncomfortable truths and maybe, just maybe, point us towards a path of healing.
So yeah, give it a shot. Just maybe keep some lighter reading on hand for when you need a palate cleanser. This one’s gonna stay with you for a while.
