The Break - Katherena Vermette

The love of a mother for her child can be a powerful force. So what happens when a child is surrounded by several matriarchal figures? Is their love powerful enough to keep the child safe? In Katherena Vermette’s novel The Break, the pivotal character of Emily is surrounded by a strong and loving support system; her mother Pauline (Paul), her aunt Louisa (Lou), her grandmother Cheryl, and her great grandmother Flora (Kookom). Vermette’s novel is a display of the fierceness of a mother’s love, the urge to protect their child from harm, and how sometimes no amount of love can save a child from the terrors of life. Vermette explores the lives of Paul and Lou, Cheryl and Kookum, Emily and her best friend Zegwan, and how they intersect with the lives of: Stella, a Metis mother; Phoenix, a homeless and troubled teen; and a Metis police officer Tommy Scott. When Emily suffers from a traumatic attack, it leaves the family reeling. While some characters are desperate for answers, others just want to heal, forcing Vermette to acknowledge that this story does not have one single voice. Vermette allows her own Metis heritage to help influence this multi-person narrative which unravels slowly and in pieces, much like a shared storytelling experience. Each unique voice offers something new, something additional to the novel. Each character is vital in offering a part of themselves to the sharing of this story. The multiple perspectives also enforces the multitude of love and protection offered by these matriarchal women. As the reader experiences the events through each woman’s eyes, we come to understand their shared beliefs and habits, specifically their instinct to ‘just do’: the women explain that when something bad happens, they just react and jump into action; they do not allow themselves to be drowned by their feelings of shock but instead go into survival and protection mode, doing everything that they can to care for their loved one, and then allow themselves to feel later. “Louisa rushes in with that determined look on her face. She’s trying to look tough by really only looks tired. Her oldest girl looks over everything like she’s searching for incompetency. Cheryl knows that look. Louisa is going to try and fix everything now” (109). Cheryl offers the perspective of the hospital room after the attack, and describes a mother’s instinct and intuition; Cheryl can she how her daughters display both strength and weakness, and how they struggle against their own pain for the benefit of their loved ones. These women have learned that trust is a valuable commodity that is earned and not given. They were forced to accept that heartbreak, rape and substance abuse were a part of their lives and their pasts, but they try to protect their daughters from these experiences that they faced as young women. Few in their community have earned their trust, enhancing the bond of familial love. When Emily’s attacker is discovered, the reveal shatters the final pillar of trust that the women have, along with their dreams of protecting their daughters from inconceivable trauma. Vermette creates an empathetic bond between reader and character, and demands that her readers endure this pain with her characters. “The only thing that matters is her tiny girl and her girl’s big, swollen pain. But Paul feels her helplessness all over, this great big unknown like a weight on her, like it’s breaking her” (184). Pauline’s pain becomes the reader’s pain; as a reader, Vermette allows you to feel as helpless as the women in the novel. Vermette brilliantly orchestrates the narrative so that the reader can see the women’s outward strength along with their increasing self-doubts.

It is important to recognize that Indigenous peoples of Canada have endured generations of trauma. The Break is only one intricate story of trauma. As a reader, and as a non-indigenous person, my heart ached throughout this entire novel, but I understand that the pain I felt for this family, for these characters was nothing and is nothing compared the the generations of pain felt today by Canadian Indigenous peoples. A reader’s aching heart can not possibly compare to the heart ache caused by our Canadian residential schools. This work of indigenous literature is hard to bear, but so is our country’s history. This book is meant to be painful. This book is meant to be difficult to read. This novel is not meant to be easy.This novel is a painful and heart-breaking piece of beautiful literature. It exemplifies the inner strength and resilience of women. Vermette’s control and mastery of multiple plots, as well as her skill to weave every delicate string back together is breath-taking. Vermette demands your time, your energy, your heart and your tears.

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