Chapter 6 marks Saul’s arrival at Gods Lake with lush imagery. As Naomi guides the family out of their tent village, they return to a place that is at once stunning and sacred:
It was a great bowl of inkpot black sunk into the granite and edged with spruce, pine and fir. At its shoreline, as my grandmother had told us, were tall cedars, a tamarack bog and a wide shallow bay at the southern end, where manoomin grew in abundance. The air was still at first. But as we paddled toward the northern end, where the grey-white cliffs spilled their gravel down to form the beach, a breeze came up and we could hear bird sounds from the reeds and shallows.
Through a mix of figurative expressions, Saul captures a scene that skims the threshold of transcendence. Gods Lake is more than just beautiful—here, it presents itself with an almost terrifying splendor. The lake is a “great bowl of inkpot black” while “grey-white cliffs” tower in the distance and eagles perch atop a “ragged old pine.” Together, the details assemble a view that is rugged if somewhat unforgiving.
But the moment combines this sublimity with a sense of serenity. Against stark backdrop of granite, life flourishes. Saul’s attentiveness to the creatures around him builds as much of the scene as his descriptions of cliffs and gravel. The scene catalogues the natural world, from plant life to the apex predators. “Manoomin [grow] in abundance,” birds call out to each other from the reeds, and a mother bear gallops with her cub on the hillsides. Indian brings to life a place that is already plenty filled with it.
Personification, simile, and imagery bring the natural world to life in Chapter 10. During his journey out of Gods Lake with Naomi, Saul watches in wonder at their surroundings:
The humped shapes of boulders on the shore wore cloaks of white. Trees with new snow heavy in their branches looked like tired soldiers heading home from war.
By investing the wilderness with an almost human-like character, the novel’s flourish of personification doubles as imagery. More, it delicately balances weariness with persistence—the boulders’ “cloaks of white” and simile of the trees resembling “tired soldiers” obliquely gesture toward death. The details manage to communicate a sense of exhaustion even while continuing to affirm the presence of life. Cloak-wearing boulders and soldier-like trees suggest a liveliness amid circumstances so seemingly inhospitable to it. Where Naomi had earlier announced that “we will die,” nature manages to press on. In a landscape devoid of any other humans, the trees and boulders persist. The natural world breathes and lives along with its human inhabitants. Keewatin, the northern wind, “grips the world” with its “fierce fingers.” The land “had eyes,” and Gods Lake shelters Saul’s family as its own. This moment is among many others across the novel that recognize nature in its human-like powers.
Indian takes to the ice again in Chapter 56 when he returns to Manitouwadge—a moment made poignant through imagery. What began as an evening game with his former teammates suddenly takes him back to his hockey-playing days:
I dressed on the bench. My head down lacing up my skates and my nose full of the smell of a rink. Wood. Sweat. Spit. Leather. When I stood and faced the ice itself, it was dazzling.
A smell is worth a thousand words, and Indian’s attention to it evocatively captures the moment. He describes by naming. Unlike the “white glory” or the “sheen” that elsewhere expresses the beauty of the rink, this scene relies less on adjectives or figurative expressions than the well-worn names of objects—“wood,” “sweat,” “spit,” “leather.” Sentence fragments slow the pace of the prose, forcing the reader to linger over the objects and their scents. The prose is simple, pared down. And yet, it conjures the full “smell of the rink” more vividly than visual descriptions would alone.
Importantly, the sensory emphasis brings into focus the significance of this scene. It speaks to Indian’s reconnection with the ice and his renewed sense of joy, which also speaks of character growth. Previously held captive to Father Leboutilier’s abuse, Indian has freed himself from the trauma that burdened him and his relationship to the game. The “dazzling” ice and all its minutiae set the stage for his healing.