Drinking, Comedy, & Tragedy

Near the middle of "The Only Traffic Signal on the Reservation Doesn't Flash Red Anymore," the narrator makes a bitterly funny observation.

It's hard to be optimistic on the reservation. When a glass sits on a table here, people don't wonder if it's half filled or half empty. They just hope it's good beer.

This sense of deep dread and emptiness is prevalent in the collection-- all of Alexie's work traffics in a sort of booze-soaked comic misery. It is perhaps the passage that immediately follows this one that drives home Alexie's point, however. Indians, Alexie writes, have a way of surviving, but not in the way you'd expect.

But it's almost like Indians can easily survive the big stuff. Mass murder, loss of language and land rights. It's the small things that hurt the most. The white waitress who won't take an order, Tonto, the Washington Redskins.

Life on the rez is not a massive, outrageous injustice. Instead, it is a barrage of smaller injustices, eventually suffocating the Indians. This pops up throughout Alexie's book. Indians drink and sleep and really don't do much else. The only way to deal with this cripplingly sad situation is through comedy. This juxtaposition between comedy and tragedy is Sherman Alexie's calling card. His characters encounter small injustices and tragedies every second and in response turn to their drinks, hoping at least, as Alexie writes, that it's good beer.

Will write and think about this more later.