Richard Wagamese’s Medicine Walk is almost guaranteed to be one of the best modern novels you’ll ever read (and that’s coming from an English major). One of the main reasons this book is such a success is that the prose is beautiful from start to finish. In the opening paragraph, Wagamese masterfully describes footprints in the frost as “inkblots in the seeping melt.” He later describes a son thinking of his absent father who is away at war, and the son explains, “His father became envelopes. He became the sporadic ones his mother picked up from the general delivery box or the ones she gave him to lick before she sent them off to Belgium, France, and Italy. He became the taste of glue.” The descriptions are so detailed and unique that any moments that feel stereotypical or cliché feel real, and original.
Medicine Walk follows sixteen-year-old Indigenous teen, Franklin, and his relationship with his father, Eldon. Eldon didn’t raise his son, but he calls Franklin to tell him he is dying and asks him to bring him to a specific location to be buried as a warrior. Throughout the story, Franklin learns of his estranged father’s personal history and how it led him to become an alcoholic and make the choices he made. While in Eldon’s personal narratives he presents himself as a more empathetic character, Franklin’s memories of his father growing up complicate this representation and show many of the faults with Eldon’s character. These conflicting stories help readers understand Franklin’s confused emotions towards his father, but overall complicate the resolution.
In the end, I’m confident almost everyone will thoroughly enjoy this novel. There is something in it for everybody, whether it encourages you to reconnect with family members, reconnect with your heritage, or even just to appreciate the excellent prose, there is little room for disappointment.
