New novel recreates the myth of Hiawatha for today
James Charles Harwood’s new novel Julia Island is a fun and humorous novel with some serious undertones that takes the Hiawatha myth, along with stereotypes of Native Americans, quantum physics and recent American history, and mixes them together to create an epic story worthy of both. Longfellow and Kurt Vonnegut.
Harwood subtly disguises many locations in Upper Michigan and elsewhere in the novel, from New York to California to Afghanistan. Readers will enjoy identifying these places, all treated fictionally. There are even some thinly-disguised celebrities making cameo appearances.
At the heart of the novel is The Chippewa Club, just north of the town of Joliette on the Upper Peninsula. Here, in the mid-20th century, a young club member fell in love with a mysterious Ojibwa man whom she never saw again. The fruit of this union was the young Hiawatha, who grows up in the club, an idyllic and wild environment where he can display the skills and knowledge of his Ojibwa ancestors, become a hero to the young white members of the club, and eventually , win the love of a young Chicago maiden, the daughter of wealthy environmentalists. The result is an epic courtship and colorful wedding that deftly plays on Longfellow’s original. Here’s just a brief passage about the beginning of Hiawatha’s relationship with Kelley Green to give you an idea of Harwood’s style:
“Later in life, the sonnets would be reserved for Kelley Green, who shared the same hippy heritage and Club privilege. Kelley was a summer resident, brought by her parents for an extended vacation from Chicago. The daughter of dilettante craftsmen, she hadn’t.” She blushed when Hiawatha smirked at her ironic name. Her reply was, “Oh, I’m the lucky one. They called my sister Keep America.”
“And so their relationship, founded on common ground and nurtured by humor, matured into an abiding regard for each other. Kelley was thoughtful, delicate, creative and insightful, and almost as attuned to her surroundings as Hiawatha.
“Kelley adored Hiawatha from a distance for years before he seemed to realize it. He had noticed all along, of course, that her inscrutable Chippewa demeanor belied his interest. So their relationship enjoyed the foundation of knowing and loving each other long before the spasm. of puberty accelerated their attraction. Every September, Kelley returned to Chicago and to school. Hiawatha, due to Great Daddy’s influence and power, was spared a public school education. He could have been the first boy to be fully homeschooled in Michigan’s upper peninsula, certainly the only transcendentally educated.”
In the first half of the novel, poetic prose invites readers to suspend their disbelief. Nearly superhuman characters, fantastical exploits, and a host of Great Lakes lore come together to poke fun at stereotypes, celebrate the Upper Peninsula, and expand Upper Michigan literature into new dimensions.
However, the idyll ends for Hiawatha and her friends when a tragic fire forces them to flee to the remote island of Julia, a mysterious place that will eventually draw them back again and again with surprising results. But first, after the devastation of the fire, Hiawatha and his family accept an invitation from two of the club’s wealthy members to visit them in New York. I won’t go into all of his adventures in the Big Apple, but I can’t resist saying that probably my favorite part of the entire book was when Hiawatha got involved in a Broadway musical version of The Last of the Mohicans, which gives you an idea. of the far-fetched, and yet not, that history can become at times, as it plays with stereotypes, whether they be of Native Americans, the theater, the Upper Peninsula, or any other area of interest that enters its pages
The second half of the novel switches to a slightly more serious tone, but the magic never wears off and the ending is unexpected and yet somehow perfect for such a potpourri of a book.
I’d love to say a lot more about Julia Island, but I think people just need to experience its mesmerizing magic for themselves. I will say that among novels set in Upper Michigan, nothing else comes close to the effortless mythmaking, playfulness, and sense of place that Harwood blends in these pages. Frankly, I’m a little jealous that I didn’t write it myself.