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Review of Indian Killer
September 1, 1996

In his previous novels, including Reservation Blues (1995), Alexie, a Spokane/Cour d'Alene Indian, has mixed magic realism, black humor, and sparkling lyricism. Here he is up to something very different: a serial-killer tale in which there is no detective and no investigation. Instead, there is fear and anger. Bodies in trendy Seattle have been turning up scalped and decorated with owl feathers, prompting anti-Indian rhetoric from a vitriolic shock jock and leading to a spate of street violence, white against Indian and Indian against white. The killer, John Smith, is an Indian without a tribe. Adopted by a white couple, John quickly slips into a delusional fantasy life in which he dreams of righting all the wrongs inflicted on Native Americans. Alexie surrounds John with a cast of wanna-be Indians, activists, and skinheadish thugs--all of whom see the murders through a distorted lens. Anger is rarely an endearing trait--it tends to flatten even the most well-rounded characters--and this novel is populated almost completely by angry people. There is not even much black humor to ease the pain of a world gone wrong. But the anger and the fear smell so real, so shockingly familiar, that we resist the temptation to turn away. Indian Killer is a difficult pill to swallow, but Alexie compels us to take our medicine.