Review by Booklist Review
Over 10 years after the events of Moon of the Crusted Snow (2018), Evan Whitesky and those who followed him off the old rez have begun to use up their resources. They decide to move back to their ancestral homelands along the Great Lakes despite not knowing what's happening down south. Evan, along with five others including his own daughter, Nangohns, sets out to find a way home. Along the way, they encounter challenges and dangers both expected and not and learn more about what happened when the disaster struck. It's gratifying to see the growth of their survival skills and the reawakening of traditional lifeways. The teenage Nangohns, now her peoples' best hunter, is an ideal exemplar of the new generation of Anishinaabe, and seeing her step into her role as a leader is immensely satisfying. There's a kindness, a gentleness, and a deep respect at the heart of the culture Rice portrays, and it stands in refreshing contrast to the usual violence and cynicism of most dystopian fiction. Rice's evocation of the countryside is gorgeous and immersive; the land becomes an essential character in its own right. This is a pastoral travel tale of much grander scope than its predecessor and a powerful, remarkable follow-up.
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Twelve years after the power went out worldwide (in 2018's Moon of the Crusted Snow), the Anishinaabe people of Shki-dnakiiwin ("New village") discover problems with their homestead in Rice's equally harrowing and hopeful sequel. Hoping to return to their ancestral home on the northern shore of Lake Huron, a party of six sets out to test whether it would be possible for the community to emigrate safely southward. Led by Evan Whitesky, the village founder, they follow in the footsteps of a similar mission, the members of which mysteriously went missing four years prior. Better armed and more cautious than their predecessors, the group navigates abandoned urban landscapes and a barren countryside hosting both friendly and hostile parties. Rice puts a refreshing, Indigenous perspective on postapocalyptic tropes, folding in both nostalgia for a world fading away ("I haven't had a pizza in thirteen years. That's the first thing on my list!" muses one member of the scouting party) and hope for a different future from a people who have survived similar harsh conditions in the past. The humanity and heart on offer here make this a showstopper. Agent: Denise Bukowski, Bukowski Agency. (Feb.)
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Review by Library Journal Review
Twelve years after an inexplicable blackout led to the collapse of society, a group of Anishinaabe people have established a small community in the bush in Northern Ontario. While they've managed to survive there, their natural resources are beginning to dwindle, and the elders are considering sending another scouting party south to see if their ancestral land along Lake Huron is habitable and if anyone else remains there. Previous Lake Huron scouts never returned home, but Evan Whitesky and his daughter Nangohns, along with four others, volunteer to make the potentially dangerous trip. Rice writes about this fraught journey with evocative, deliberate language as the travelers trek through the forest and eventually encounter the ruins of towns. He creates a constant, low-level tension that contrasts with the occasional pulse-pounding, harrowing moments, which will keep readers glued to the page. VERDICT Rice renders an achingly realistic portrayal of a broken, post-apocalyptic world that still manages to contain hope and beauty. While this story can be read as a stand-alone, readers will likely want to seek out Moon of the Crusted Snow, which is set at the beginning of the blackout.--Melissa DeWild
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