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57 pages 1 hour read

Diane Wilson

The Seed Keeper

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 2021

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Themes

Relationships with the Land

One of the main themes of this novel is also one of the main points of conflict: people’s relationship with the land they are on. Beyond the issue of ownership—ranging from colonization to Mangenta’s restrictive contracts and patents—the novel delves into how the characters view themselves with regard to the land.

After the Prologue, Rosalie’s story starts with her recollecting stories her father told her about the Dakhóta people’s origins. Her voice doesn’t appear until nearly two pages into Chapter 1. By putting Ray’s stories about the origins and the land at the front, the author is underlining the importance of what he’s expressing, that as Dakhótas, “our survival depends on knowing how to be a good relative, especially to Iná Maka, Mother Earth” (6). He goes on to talk about how the prairie was before the arrival of white settlers, who “came with their plows and destroyed the prairie in a single lifetime” (7). Rosalie muses about how he might feel if he lived to see her married to a white farmer on a farm that had once been prairie.

It is noteworthy that Rosalie does not comment about how John’s or her neighbors’ farming practices affect the land until she learns about environmental issues, such as the effects of pesticide and fertilizer usage and the depletion of topsoil. This is because the farm is a safe place for her to live after being in foster care, while the cabin in the woods held physical dangers for her after her father’s death. Once she becomes aware, she opposes Mangenta’s practices and what they represent. While Rosalie is often at odds with John, he is also wary of Mangenta. Rosalie is reminded of his oft-repeated Roosevelt quote whenever she senses his seasonal farming anxiety: “The country that destroys its soil destroys itself” (111).

Three generations of Meister men have forged their own relationships with the land, implicitly at the expense of the Dakhóta people. John describes his father as “old-school,” someone who saw the importance of taking care of the soil. He did that by plowing the fields with horses and then using the manure as fertilizer, but “things started changing after World War II. Hybrid seeds, chemical fertilizers, new equipment. Farmers like [his] dad got left behind” (108). John uses and supports contemporary farming practices like his peers, but there is still a part of him that worries about what his father would think about the changes. John also struggles with conflicting impulses. His family history—embodied in his name, Meister, which means “master”—is rooted in mastery over the land. John seeks his peers’ respect and enjoys the status he earns in the community when his farm thrives. At the same time, he recognizes the exploitation that came with his family’s rise, paralleled by the reports of pesticide-resistant weeds after Mangenta’s takeover.

When Thomas becomes involved with the farm, he is another generation that changes how the land is regarded. In his case, it involves pesticide-resistant genetically-modified crops and patented seeds. John is hesitant, but Thomas urges him on, dismissing the risk. Rosalie characterizes her son’s stance: “He had never been taught to think about his seeds as relatives, as living beings deserving of loving care. […] he had been raised to believe that it was man’s God-given right to ‘fill the earth and subdue it” (334-35). That philosophy comes from the Bible, but Thomas has his own religion: new science. Thomas’s beliefs mark how far Rosalie’s family has strayed from Dakhóta practices in just a few generations, alluding to how quickly cultures can be lost.

Approaching land with an aim of extraction is a one-way relationship. Throughout the book, characters explore their culture and develop their senses of self by cultivating the land. This ranges from the heirloom seed basket and Rosalie learning to plant Indigenous plants to Marie’s resistance in keeping a garden at the boarding school. In the end, Thomas comes closest to understanding his roots when he looks at native corn seeds and plants tomatoes with Carlos. In the ethos of this novel, the land must be tended to like an important relative, for it is the source of all life.

The Importance of Names

In current times, there is an effort in many parts of the United States to remove offensive placenames or return the original Indigenous names to locations. This novel highlights the importance of names, how they designate people and places, and how they can be altered or weaponized. Once again, the author forefronts important ideas in the first chapter by having Rosalie recall lectures from her father. He provides the Dakhóta phrase from which the name “Minnesota” originated—Mní Sota Makhóčhe—and corrects the appellation given to their people by the settlers: “Some called us the great Sioux nation, but we are Dakhóta, our name for ourselves, which means friendly” (6). For the rest of the story, Rosalie claims, protects, or corrects names related to her, marking their significance.

On her wedding day, Rosalie understands that it is expected she will take Meister as her name. She nearly flees until John suggests she just add his last name to hers without a hyphen, because “Just as he could not bear the thought of losing his family’s land, I could not live without my family’s name, all that was left to me in this new life” (98). Her name—Iron Wing—is an inheritance, a reminder of who she is and where she comes from. Without other people around to celebrate her culture, she fears being erased. John’s egalitarian gesture is symbolic as well; he doesn’t dominate his wife by literally replacing her name with Meister, which means master, advocating instead for their names to be placed side-by-side. While John and Rosalie’s relationship is complicated, he honors his promise to keep her safe throughout their marriage, represented in Rosalie’s last name.

Names and the privilege of naming others become an issue when John drives Rosalie to New Ulm and shows her a monument. The privilege of the dominant culture to name others hits Rosalie hard when she reads about the “Sioux Indian War of 1862” and how “savages” attacked the settlers (117). Not only did the town use a tribal name not claimed by the Dakhóta, but it vilifies Rosalie’s people by using a racist epithet. Missing entirely is the context and causes of the war, how the Dakhóta were already dying of starvation initiated by the settlers and government agents. Reading further, she sees the name “Heinrich Meister” listed on the roll of those killed in an attack. John says that his ”ancestors had it coming” (118), but the placement of his ancestor’s name on a plaque puts Rosalie’s and John’s histories into conflict.

The couple has their own conflict about naming their yet-to-be-born son. Rosalie wants to name the boy Wakpá, but John wants to name him Thomas after his grandfather. These two names represent conflicting cultural heritages between Indigenous tradition and white patriarchy. Rosalie initially stands firm because she “knew the power in a name. [She] knew how a name would draw its strength from the child; how the child would grow into that name” (148). John is surprised she would pick such a name, for he knows how reminders of the Dakhóta bring out a meanness in their small community. He wants the boy’s name to be a shield, to protect him from the icy stares Rosalie garners. He prevails, but Rosalie calls her son Wakpá when she’s alone with him. As a boy, he goes by Tommy, and his switch to Thomas in his late teens indicates that he wants to be seen as a man, someone to be respected, and not a boy. Names can often give insight into how the author wants readers to react to a character, but so too does a character’s claiming or rejecting of a name, as Thomas does here.

The author hints at what might have happened if the couple named Tommy Wakpá when John and Rosalie go to the teacher’s conference. The teacher praises how bright Tommy is but tells them he had trouble with an assignment where he needed to write his grandparents’ names. She diligently writes down John’s parents’ names, but when Rosalie supplies hers, the teacher does not write. She seems flummoxed and sputters about it being true that Tommy is “part Indian” (184). The other children bully Tommy because of his race, showing again how the dominant culture assigns names to minorities. Rosalie is outraged, but John is stunned because he hadn’t thought much about his son’s race, and even “Knowing the history, understanding how some of his neighbors regarded Indians, had not prepared him to see his own son treated that way” (185). While much of the text’s focus on names dwells on individual identity, scenes like this show how the names chosen by others can impose identities as well.

Protecting What Is Loved

When Marie Blackbird and her mother sew seeds into the hems of their skirts, they are doing so to protect the things and people they value and love: their family, their people, their heritage, and their cultural future. It is an unequivocally positive motivation with good results, as later generations use these seeds to reconnect with their roots. However, several characters in the novel take ill-advised steps to protect someone or something, showing how clinging too tightly to something can have the opposite effect.

Ray, a widowed father of a young girl, wants his daughter to grow up strong, sure of who she is, and knowledgeable about her history and culture. Though they are poor and live in a cabin without running water, electricity, or heat, Rosalie does not feel impoverished. Ray teaches her the old ways—trapping, foraging for food, and learning which plants to use for medicine. He also supplies her with books, which he considers “weapons that could be used against you unless you armed yourself with knowledge” (19). The use of the word “weapons” is indicative here; he is preparing her to be a fighter. He protects her by preparing her to fend for herself. Ironically, Rosalie often needs to fend for herself because of Ray, as his depression and alcohol addiction make it difficult for him to provide for her. He gives her survival lessons, but his long absences leave her cold, hungry, and frightened. He also tries to protect her by keeping the story of her mother’s death from her, including shutting out Agnes’s family. While her mother’s suicide and attempt to murder her would certainly be traumatic, Ray’s choice left gaps in Rosalie’s identity and ultimately isolated her. His untimely death left her with an emptiness and the erroneous idea that she had no family left in the world. Additionally, leaving her with no family caused her to be placed in foster care, where she endured more abuse. This shows how protecting loved ones by isolating them from potential harm can have unintended consequences.

As she gets older, Rosalie realizes that she is not made to use anger to fight against enemy forces like Gaby, so she opts to protect her culture by guarding it. The one constant for her is the plant world; she sings to plants and finds their presence peaceful. The night of the kitchen fire, she misunderstands John and brings her seeds to safety instead of Tommy after she puts out the fire. John blames her for this impulse, and she wonders what it says about her that she prioritized her seeds. One could argue that Rosalie relinquishes her claim on motherhood by not insisting on spending time with Tommy when he starts preferring his father. However, another view is that Rosalie is trying to protect her son from the torment of being caught between two cultures. Allowing him to develop a relationship with his father and learn his farming techniques sets him up for a future in his community. This hands-off form of protection is perceived differently by the one being “protected,” and Thomas later reveals that he struggles with similar gaps in his identity as Rosalie.

John’s form of protection for Tommy is assimilating into the dominant culture and whiteness. He takes a more active role in teaching him after the fire and learning that he was bullied for being Indigenous. His son will someday run and inherit the farm, so that part of Tommy’s education makes sense for a farm family. However, even though John is not particularly religious, he starts reading Bible stories to Thomas and taking him to Sunday school. He is inculcating him in white Protestant culture because he knows how Indigenous people, especially Dakhóta people, are treated in the area. He fails to consider how this action drives a wedge not only between the boy and his mother but between the different halves of Thomas’s heritage. It is yet another example in the story of the motivation to protect having unanticipated side effects.

There is much tragedy in this novel, and at the character level, there is tragedy when good people’s good motivations go astray. Ultimately, the novel concludes that protection and healing can only come from honesty and community rather than isolation and keeping secrets.

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