FICTION

Kumak's River: A Tall Tale from the Far North

illus. by author. 32p. Alaska Northwest. 2012. Tr $16.99. ISBN 978-0-88240-886-6; pap. $9.99. ISBN 978-0-88240-887-3. LC 2012019726.
COPY ISBN
PreS-Gr 3—This sunny sequel to Kumak's House (2002) and Kumak's Fish (2004, both Alaska Northwest) centers on spring in a remote Alaskan village, when the ice on the frozen river cracks and breaks and jams up at a river bend, flooding the community. Kumak and his family climb onto their roof and keep the largest chunks of ice away with long poles, their dogs tied up in a boat nearby. Bania, who taught in an Inupiaq village, works the cadences of the story like the flowing waters of the river, with repetition of key phrases building the action. The illustrations are a pleasing wash of color against large swaths of white space that call to mind the vast openness of Alaska. A secondary story takes place in the pictures, in which the dogs have their own adventure after the rope holding their boat breaks. Despite a misleading subtitle, the story is less a tall tale than a lovingly depicted story of a people who live in harmony with nature; rather than raging against the river that sweeps away their oil drums, toys, net floats, and fish tubs, Kumak and his family know that "A river does what a river does."—Kathleen Kelly MacMillan, Carroll County Public Library, MD
As Bania explains in a note, the annual breakup of river ice in Alaska is cause for celebration, even when a particular year's ice build-up and weather cause rampant flooding. In this not-so-tall tale, when "chunks of ice as big as houses" jam on their passage to the sea, Kumak and his neighbors perch on their roofs in the warm spring air while, hour by hour, the river water rises around their houses. Children rejoice in a school-free day, while Kumak fends off ice with a pole. Still, the river "went wherever it wanted to go. And it did whatever it wanted to do," sweeping away dogs tethered in boats, oil drums, fish nets, and toys until at last the jam bursts, the river returns to its bed, and people are free to seek and find (the tall-tale part) their belongings and to anticipate their summer relationship with the life-sustaining stream -- fishing, boating, and the vital annual trek to summer camp. The cheery line and watercolor vistas of smiling Iñupiat, dogs, and gulls enjoying their adventure amid pounding ice and deep blue water are a fine match for the well-paced text. For anyone in the lower forty-eight who has suffered from extreme weather and its consequences, the depiction of people thriving in harmony with a natural environment that both challenges and sustains them offers plenty of room for discussion. joanna rudge long

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