Blog tour: A Council of Dolls by Mona Susan Power

This post is part of a blog tour organised by Random Things Blog Tours. I received a free copy of the book in return for an honest review.

‘From the mid-century metropolis of Chicago to the windswept ancestral lands of the Dakota people, to the bleak and brutal Indian boarding schools, A Council of Dolls is the story of three women, told in part through the stories of the dolls they carried…

‘Sissy, born 1961: Sissy’s relationship with her beautiful and volatile mother is difficult, even dangerous, but her life is also filled with beautiful things, including a new Christmas present, a doll called Ethel. Ethel whispers advice and kindness in Sissy’s ear, and in one especially terrifying moment, maybe even saves Sissy’s life.

‘Lillian, born 1925: Born in her ancestral lands in a time of terrible change, Lillian clings to her sister, Blanche, and her doll, Mae. When the sisters are forced to attend an “Indian school” far from their home, Blanche refuses to be cowed by the school’s abusive nuns. But when tragedy strikes the sisters, the doll Mae finds her way to defend the girls.

‘Cora, born 1888: Though she was born into the brutal legacy of the “Indian Wars,” Cora isn’t afraid of the white men who remove her to a school across the country to be “civilised.” When teachers burn her beloved buckskin and beaded doll Winona, Cora discovers that the spirit of Winona may not be entirely lost…’

A Council of Dolls, by Mona Susan Power, starts and ends with the story of Sissy/Jesse. We first meet her as a young girl, living with her volatile mother, devoted father, and special doll, Ethel, and discovering what it means to be Native American in 1960s Chicago. When we return to her in the 2010s, she’s in her fifties and still processing her mother’s cruel treatment of her.

In between, we learn about the childhoods of Sissy’s mother, Lilian, and Sissy’s maternal grandmother, Cora, in the 1930s and 1900s respectively. Both of them grew up in poverty and were forced to attend strict, oppressive American Indian boarding schools that aimed to “civilise” them. Cora’s kind and friendly nature emerged from this traumatic experience intact, but it left Lilian bitter and twisted, explaining (but not excusing) her behaviour towards her daughter.

Both also had their own beloved dolls – Winona and Mae – who managed to stay with the girls in spirit, even after they were devastatingly taken from them.

A Council of Dolls is such an impactful read. The author’s use of the dolls in telling the three women’s stories and linking them together is so original and inspired, and while I was already aware of the existence of the Indian residential schools, seeing them through the characters’ eyes really brought home to me how shockingly awful they were.

The dolls serve various purposes for their owners. At the most basic level, like any favourite toy, they provide comfort and companionship, with the girls thoughtfully naming their dolls, imbuing them with personalities and voices, and taking good care of them.

Extraordinarily, though, all three dolls are sentient (whether this is manifested by magic or lively imaginations is up to the reader to decide), and act as witnesses to the cruelties the girls suffer, protectors when they’re in danger, and voices of reason when they’re unable to admit painful truths to themselves. In short, they help Sissy, Lilian, and Cora survive.

As the oldest doll, and having had a loving previous owner, Winona is also able to tell us about earlier horrifying wrongs committed by colonisers against Native Americans, such as the Wounded Knee Massacre, bringing additional historical events to life and reminding us that they weren’t actually that long ago.

On a lighter note, we get to learn some things about Native American culture, customs, and languages. I found it particularly interesting to find out what Winona was made from (deer hide, beads and shells), and to read about names – the girls’ English and Native American monikers, as well as the names they choose for their dolls and themselves.

Trauma, inherited or otherwise, is a major theme of this novel. While by no means unscathed, Cora embodies the fact that not everyone who experiences trauma develops PTSD, while Lilian is quite the opposite.

Sissy, meanwhile, follows classic patterns of the abused child. Being dependent on her mother for food and shelter makes it feel disloyal and dangerous for her to characterise Lilian as bad and wrong. While Ethel, at least, gets to voice these suppressed thoughts, Sissy nonetheless can’t help but conclude that she’s the “bad” one in the relationship, and needs to try harder to be perfect so Lilian won’t have cause to hurt her.

When we return to Sissy – or Jesse, as she’s now known – as an adult, it’s clear that while she’s done some work on herself in the intervening period, she’s still carrying around the harms of her childhood, and experiencing a lot of inner conflict concerning her late mother. When, by chance or magic, she assembles all three dolls (whether original or close-enough replica) and they start telling her their stories, it’s no surprise that it’s overwhelming for her.

However, this is ultimately a turning point where Jesse’s healing really accelerates, so the story ends on a hopeful note. I’d also say that, in spite of everything, Jesse’s already doing reasonably well: she’s a successful writer, she has an honest and affirming best friend she can talk to about anything, and her pet cockatoo is endearing and hilarious.

Convening with the dolls, though, promises to help her treat herself more kindly, feel more deserving of her achievements, and become less self-sabotaging.

A Council of Dolls is original, striking, and wise.