The Break

Set in the North End of Winnipeg, Manitoba, The Break is a heartbreaking and gritty multi-generational story of a Metis family, told through different perspectives that originate in and around the sexual assault of young teenage girl. The voices we hear are mostly women, because it's the women that hold the family structures together, they are the ones that stay. There's crime, drug addiction, lost loved ones, gang violence, and a lot of trauma and hurt handed down from generation to generation.

This book succeeded on so many levels for me. It has the literary fiction appeal, the feminist angle, and all the while also kept me hooked with the plot. Some of the scenes really shook me. Little broken Emily sneaking home without telling anyone, Rain transforming Stella's bedtime fairy-tales so that the princess wouldn't need a prince, Jake fighting tears without being able to open up to his mom.

Rounded up.

This is a book about family and trauma. The violence that's warned about at the beginning mostly lurks around the edges, but it colours everything that happens. A very heavy read, but it does end on a bittersweetly hopeful note.

4.5 stars. This book is a gut punch. A fair comp for readers who liked Tommy Orange's There There.

Read my review on my blog here:

https://theconsultingbookworm.wordpress.com/2018/01/20/the-break-katherena-vermette/

This is spectacular writing; a true Canadian talent, telling a story about small town Canada and native/metis life that is very powerful and incredibly relevant. It covers some very dark and disturbing issues, but if you're looking for an intimate portrayal of how tough life can be for vulnerable women, few books can compare to the stories of the women in this book.
What struck me first was the sheer quality of writing. The story is written from the perspectives of a number of women (and one man), and swaps perspectives every chapter. Without using excessive description or pontification, the writing instantly makes you see the world through the eyes of the character of focus, understand how they feel, see how they see the people around them. Because this is done so effectively, I got to the point where a number of characters would be together in a room, and I'd instantly understand the dynamics between all of the characters. That really made the book come to life for me.
One thing I found overwhelming was the sheer amount of horrible things that happened to these women. It made me (a sheltered white guy) think “Can things really be that bad?!” My assumption is that the author is writing from experience and that things actually are that bad. A part of me wants to hope she's exaggerating, but deep down I know she probably is not. So the book was definitely an eye opener, but it was hard to take it all in, and I'm still reeling from it.

It took me a few chapters to get “into” the narrative here and I'll repeat a friend's recommendation that you give yourself big chunks of time to read through as much of it as you can. The flow of the story and the weave of the connections make so much sense and are so poetic when you just read the novel through. (Vermette has won awards for her poetry, so that shouldn't be a surprise.)

The women and girls in this book are carefully drawn, three-dimensional characters. Each one of them broke my heart. This isn't a joyful novel, but it is a tender one and, as many in my book club said, there is a lot of hope there–and capacity for healing.

There are so many beautiful passages in the novel that draw your attention to the similarity/sameness of the Metis women in the story. The women in each generation of the main family resemble each other, as well as those that come before and after them. The half-Metis policeman sees his own mother in their faces, as well. And this isn't racist or racial essentializing about how Native Canadians look. As one of the characters says about the central tragedy of the story: “when something happens to one of us, it happens to us all.” This isn't just a remark about the women in the family; it's a remark about Metis women, Native women, Missing and Murderd Women, abused women, and on and on.

All of the figures are broken in some way, and the author repeats this assertion in the voice of various characters. The men are broken, too, but this is not their story. Drink and drugs have broken them, as well as, perhaps, the simple pull of life in the city vs. life “in the bush.” The youngest generation–Emily and Ziggy and Jake and Baby–seem positioned to make better lives for themselves, maybe, than their mothers. But, as the attack on Emily makes clear, the legacy of drugs and drink and violence can be passed down through the generations.