Robertson, David A. (2021). Black Water: Family, Legacy, and Blood Memory
Toronto: Harper Perennial.
Reviewed by: Crystal Downey, MacEwan University
Governor General’s Award-winning author David A. Robertson’s book, “Black Water:
Family, Legacy, and Blood Memory,” is an autobiographical account of his experience growing
up Indigenous in Canada. “Black Water” was the recipient of the 2021 Carol Shields Winnipeg
Book Award and the 2021 Alexander Kennedy Isbister Award for Non-Fiction. Robertson
weaves past and present together seamlessly to propel the story1 with an ever-increasing sense of
urgency showing his skill with narrative writing in his first full-length non-fiction work. This
memoir centres on blood memory, or intergenerational memory, that links Indigenous peoples to
their history. It is a journey through the author’s past and the Robertson family’s story, drawn
upon written and oral records. Connection to one’s past and how it informs the present is a
significant theme, as is Indigenous identity. “Black Water” will help increase awareness of what
it means to be Indigenous and the continuing effects of the Residential School system on family,
community, and the connection between land, language, and culture.
What is Indigenous identity? How would Dad have taught me to be an Indigenous
person? Taught me to be Cree? I am Cree, I have always been Cree, and I will
always be Cree. … As I’ve grown older, my identity as a Cree man has grown
with me, changed with me, evolved with me. Identity is fluid and personal. That’s
what I want you to keep in mind. This is my story. This is my identity. It is
nobody else’s. My truths are my own, and I’ve found out recently that some of the
things I took to be truths were wrong. That’s part of the journey too (p. 172).
Although Robertson cautions that his story is not every Indigenous person’s, Indigenous
readers may find their own experience reflected in “Black Water” as Robertson contemplates the
role that blood memory plays in developing his Indigenous identity. He recalls the first time he
1
References to “story” in this review refer to Indigenous oral tradition
stepped foot in Norway House and immediately felt at home; “an Elder told me … that the
feeling of familiarity was called blood memory, and that Norway House … had always been a
part of me (p. 25).” Robertson conveys the persistent sense that something was missing from his
life (p. 169) and believes it was his blood memory inviting him to return to his ancestors’
traditional lands. He relates how his daughter, Lauren, had a similar homecoming experience out
at Black Water (p. 262-263). Robertson’s father, Don, credits the resilience of the people of
Norway House, stored in his blood memory, with giving him the strength to adapt to so many
changes after he left his small community (p. 131). As Robertson puts it, “the memories and
lives of our ancestors are woven into the fabric of [our] DNA (p. 263).”
Robertson does not shy away from the existence of Canada’s Residential School system
or the intergenerational effects it continues to have on Indigenous peoples. The information is
contained mainly in Chapter Four, prefaced with a cautionary trigger warning to survivors.
Robertson emphasizes that the circumstances of each Residential School survivor were different
and that even one child experiencing abuse was one child too many (p. 70). Due to the spotty
record keeping or destruction of records throughout the Residential School system, physical
evidence can be challenging to obtain. Many family histories were lost to time, as some
survivors never unveiled their truths before they passed away (p. 64). Although Robertson did
find some records related to his family, he also relies on the oral history of his maternal
Grandmother, Nana, his father, Don, and other extended family and community members.
The stories included are poignant and truthful and paint a picture of what Residential
School was like for the children forced to attend. Robertson shares that although Nana did not
reveal too much about her time in Residential School, knowing the stories of her classmates and
uncovering sporadic school records about attendance and living conditions helps him envision
what it might have been. As he stands on the old foundation of the school Nana attended, he can
see her in his mind’s eye (p. 63). Indigenous people come to terms with missing details, as
records and voices might vanish over time, but blood memory ensures that their ancestors’
experiences are always within them.
As Indigenous peoples across Canada continue to experience intergenerational trauma,
Robertson addresses how powerful sharing their truth can be in Residential School survivors
healing journey (p. 64). The act of remembering is a way to heal by reconciling the present with
the past. He proposes that we cannot know ourselves without knowing the lives of those who
came before (p. 62). However, Don cautions Robertson that “our story … isn’t a residential
school story. …That history is a part of our family, and it always will be. But there is more to us
… (p. 72).” Robertson’s chronicle allows future generations of Indigenous peoples to connect
with this dark history for healing and for non-Indigenous folks to learn the lasting impacts of the
Residential School program.
By unearthing his personal history, Robertson ensures the continuation of his family’s
stories. Oral tradition was the method of passing down knowledge and history. However, forced
removal from connection to land, language, and culture means that what remains of this history
will be lost unless recorded in new ways. He says that because his father did not tell these stories
to his children as would have happened in past generations, Don “talks … in the language of lost
memories … in pieces that he tries to connect but cannot (p. 147).” Returning to the physical
place of Black Water facilitated memory recall through visual input. Robertson describes his
father taking inventory of the area, “breathing in the memories like air (p. 254).” The mundane
events Don recalls suddenly become seminal moments in history (p. 255). Through collecting his
dad’s stories, Robertson can take his children to Black Water and tell them, “This was a
gathering place for our family (p. 262).”
“Black Water” will assist non-Indigenous readers in understanding the complicated
decisions Indigenous families face in childrearing. Robertson’s father never intended to deny
their Indigenous heritage. To Don, indigeneity is, so he believed that through observing him
living a good life, his children would find their version of Indigenous identity (p. 171-172).
However, Robertson expresses that since his father was not around for most of his childhood,
harmful stereotypes usurped the idea of indigeneity his father intended him to observe, leaving
him confused and ashamed (p. 179). Indigenous children forced into Residential Schools never
had the opportunity to learn parenting skills from their community because they were not in the
community long enough to absorb them.
A choice taken away from most Indigenous parents was teaching the children their
language. Since Residential Schools punished children for speaking a language other than
English, it stole an essential part of their identity; it was an act of cultural genocide (p. 140).
Robertson’s dad regrets not teaching his sons to speak Cree (p. 146). Don had always spoken
Cree with his family, but after he attended seminary school, his mother told him, “Your Cree was
so bad (p. 140)!” At that moment, Don realized “the weight of what he had lost (p. 138).” The
“words that held all the knowledge [he had] learned as a child on the trapline (p. 140)” were slow
to return as he worked to recover his language. When Robertson’s daughter, Lauren, asks
her Moshum (Grandpa), to teach her Cree (p. 245), it encapsulates how much was lost and what
is required to reclaim it.
Robertson’s “Black Water” is captivating. While some readers may find the flashback
style confusing, I felt a compelling sense of urgency building as the past caught up to the present
on the physical and metaphorical journey to Black Water. His chronology illustrates how we can
connect the past to the present and asks, “How did we get to today?” Robertson regrets not
having enough time with his father to learn everything Don had to teach him (p. 266).
“Intergenerational trauma requires … purposefully working towards healing through the
connections we choose to foster, [and] the things we seek to learn. … [T]ypically, … this
learning happens through Elders[’] … stories, and happens through the language (p. 248).”
Although the book is accessible for anyone wishing to learn more about the history of
Indigenous peoples in Canada, I would recommend it for many academic disciplines, including
psychology, anthropology, sociology, social work, and education. The memoir addresses the
history and intergenerational effects of the Indian Act, Residential Schools, and more. It
illuminates Indigenous peoples’ struggles in the aftermath of these events and the hope that lies
in reconciliation.
Word Count: 1484