The End of Drum-Time

“The prospect hadn’t bothered him, it had seemed like a pleasant thing to lose one’s mind, but now he saw the terror of having no control over what one believed, of having lost any fastness to truth.”

This quote employs juxtaposition. The initial notion of “los[ing] one’s mind” as pleasant contrasts with the sudden realization of its associated terror. This shift in perception speaks to a duality of mental freedom and the inherent danger in losing one's grasp on reality.

“Willa wondered if her father had it all wrong, if the earthquake was meant for her, if God had seen into her heart and found her wanting. He had searched her and known her, he had tried her and known her thoughts. He had seen there was a wicked way in her.”

Anaphora is seen in the repetition of "he had" at the beginning of successive clauses. This repetition emphasizes Willa's introspection and the intense scrutiny she feels under a divine gaze, highlighting her internal conflict and perceived moral shortcomings.

“It was the job of a herder to deal with what was, and not waste one’s time wishing things to be any different. No one controls nature, he’d said bitterly, and I am part of that nature.”

There is an antithesis here between dealing with reality and wishing for change. This contrast highlights the acceptance of nature's uncontrollable aspects and the herder's acknowledgment of being intrinsically linked to the natural world, embracing a realistic and resigned philosophy toward life’s uncontrollable elements.

“With his eyes closed he could still watch the reindeer, hear where they went, how they moved, where the wind was sending them, what the birds said, and while he listened the snow became its own weight, took its own shape against his back.”

The author uses imagery, painting a scene that blends Ivvár’s visual, auditory, and tactile experiences. This description enhances the connection between Ivvár and the natural world, emphasizing an almost spiritual awareness.

“He could not understand what was happening to his world, why everything insisted on looking the same but being quite different, why his father’s hand on the fire-stick suddenly seemed old, and why a new dread came through him, like he’d just crested a fell and been met with the reality of the wind beyond it.”

The simile or comparison of dread to the cold wind beyond a fell creates an image of sudden, harsh realization. The metaphorical aging of his father’s hand signifies the passage of time and the inevitable changes it brings, contributing to Ivvár’s sense of confusion and unease. Anaphora is also present in the repetition of "why" at the beginning of each phrase.

“The Church was functionally the Crown, and its pastors not only the arm of God but the arm of the law. The two were even more intertwined in that tax-collecting happened on holy days, times of year when everyone was required to come to church or be fined for absenteeism.”

The Church as the Crown and pastors as both divine and legal authorities symbolize the merging of religious and governmental power. This metaphorical imagery of sacred and secular roles intertwining highlights the pervasive control exerted over the community, illustrating the far-reaching influence of these interconnected institutions.

“To stay afloat, to keep from starvation, the general allowance was that for every person you needed twenty reindeer per year (some said fifteen)—that was the barest minimum on which to subsist.”

The specific number of reindeer required to avoid starvation highlights the harsh and demanding conditions of the setting, which is an example of realism. This quantitative detail enhances the sense of urgency and precariousness faced by the Indigenous characters, emphasizing their struggle for survival, expressed initially through the metaphor “to stay afloat.”

“He felt like a rain had appeared for a minute and then disappeared, so that only the wet ground told you it had been there at all.”

The comparison of a fleeting rain to a transient feeling uses imagery to create a picture of impermanence and subtle impact. The wet ground serves as a metaphor for lingering effects, suggesting that even brief encounters can leave lasting impressions.

“‘You’re a Finn,’ she said.

‘Well, I live in Finland,’ he said, ‘in winter. That doesn’t make me a Finn, any more than it makes the Finns Russians because their land is called Russia. No?’”

Ivvár’s response challenges assumptions about identity that are based on location and national boundaries, creating a paradox. This exchange underscores the complexity of cultural and national identity, revealing the nuances that go beyond geographical association.

“‘Well, this story is much, much older than the Old Testament.’

‘The Older Testament.’

‘Yes,’ he said, seeming pleased with this, ‘the much Older Testament.’”

The reference to the "Old Testament" alludes to the Hebrew Bible, a foundational religious text for Judaism and Christianity. This comparison suggests that the Sámi story being discussed has ancient, oral origins, predating one of the oldest and most revered texts in Western religious tradition. The twist on "Old Testament" to "Older Testament" introduces humor, and the repetition of "much older" further accentuates the historical depth, adding a layer of wit to the conversation.

“He wanted a good smoke and a cup of coffee with no one around, only the silence of a waterfall, or the jibber-jabber of a mountain stream.”

Personification is evident in the phrase "the jibber-jabber of a mountain stream." The stream is given human-like qualities by describing its sounds as "jibber-jabber," implying that it is engaging in a lively, conversational chatter. An oxymoron is also found in the phrase "the silence of a waterfall." Waterfalls are inherently noisy, so describing one as silent creates a juxtaposition of contradictory terms, emphasizing a sense of peace and tranquility despite the typically loud nature of a waterfall. This oxymoron highlights a desire for a paradoxical kind of solitude, where even typically loud natural elements contribute to a sense of calm.

“The other gift of crisis was the permission it gave to do what one has wanted to do all along.”

The idea that crisis provides a gift or permission paradoxically juxtaposes the typically negative connotation of crisis with a positive outcome. This contradiction underscores the unexpected opportunities that can arise from difficult situations.

“The silence could not be sustained, and the transience of all things—the fire, the snow, their gaze, their lives—was felt when Willa sighed. Willa sighed and the night came down around them, and Lorens was there again, and Ivvár’s fatigue, and the fact of her begging here in the lávvu, in the firelight, for what exactly she didn’t know.”

The silence and transience of elements like fire and snow symbolize the fleeting nature of life and time. The atmosphere shifts with Willa's sigh, evoking a sense of impermanence and introspection, while the firelight and setting create a reflective mood.

“In the very same breath he forbade them from idolizing anything, he wanted to be idolized, when he cultivated their admiration as carefully as any shepherd, any farmer in the field. But for them to idolize him they must first believe he was saving them, and for them to be saved he had to first convince them of their evil.”

Irony lies in the contradiction between forbidding idolization and desiring to be idolized. The metaphor of a shepherd or farmer cultivating admiration suggests a deliberate and calculated effort to garner devotion, highlighting the manipulative nature of his actions. This dynamic underscores themes of control and deception justified by Christian doctrine.

“He demanded, first and foremost, that you must hate yourself to be loved, he demanded a life of endless prostration for desire you had always had; you must always apologize at his altar, you must always be saved from whom he had made you.”

The anaphora of "you must" at the beginning of multiple phrases emphasizes the relentless demands being made. Irony is evident in the paradox of needing to hate oneself to be loved and his saving them from what he made them, highlighting the manipulative and contradictory nature of the demands.

“He was going to go look out the window, but around the curtains’ edge was the bright frame of sun, the winter’s plague of unending darkness already replaced with a new plague of unending light, a reminder he didn’t need that any pleasure could become punishment.”

The juxtaposition of winter's unending darkness and the new plague of unending light contrasts two extremes, while the metaphor of light as a plague suggests that even positive things can become burdensome. This duality underscores the internal conflict and the idea that too much of anything, even light, can become oppressive.

“And as she stood there and let him smile at her it was all very clear to her: when she was with him she was happy, and she wanted to be happy.”

The repetition of "happy" emphasizes the character's realization and clarity about her feelings. This simple repetition underscores the significance and clarity of her happiness in that moment.

“It was the height of the year—the height of her life—here she was, at the sea at summer’s end, in love, the words feeling as grandiose and frightening as the broad, black back of the sea.”

The parallel structure of "the height of the year—the height of her life" draws a connection between the external season and her internal state. The simile comparing the words "grandiose and frightening" to the alliterative "broad, black back of the sea" evokes a sense of awe and trepidation, highlighting the overwhelming nature of her emotions and the vast, unpredictable expanse of the sea.

“Later it would seem she had done everything for these nights—later it would seem that had been the great bargain—all that for this. But she didn’t know that yet, and in the moment, had someone asked her, what is this worth, she might even have said, Oh, maybe everything.”

The repetition of "later it would seem" foreshadows future regret or realization, while the immediate uncertainty contrasts with the potential significance of the nights, creating irony in her possible hyperbolic response of "Oh, maybe everything." This juxtaposition highlights the tension between present ignorance and future insight.

“‘Listen,’ she said, and he was quiet, thinking she was about to say something, but then he heard it. The church bell, the biggest bell reindeer of them all, its heavy, iron call.”

The church bell is personified as a reindeer, invoking imagery that blends the natural with the manmade. Additionally, the church bell, symbolizing Christianity and settler colonialism, contrasts with the reindeer, which represents Sámi lifeways and Indigenous culture. The metaphor of the bell as the "biggest bell reindeer of them all" ironically merges two opposing symbols: one of colonial dominance and religious imposition, and the other of traditional Sámi existence and harmony with nature. This juxtaposition underscores the tension and conflict between these two worlds, highlighting the cultural and existential dissonance faced by the Sámi people.

“‘Yes, go on, Rikki,’ Ivvár said, ‘take the reindeer, why don’t you go grab one.’ Ivvár was laughing like a nervous little boy. ‘Just ask one to come nicely with you.’”

The ironic and sarcastic suggestion to "just ask one to come nicely" contrasts with the impracticality of the request, while the simile comparing Ivvár's laughter to that of a nervous little boy underscores his discomfort and adds a layer of vulnerability to his character.

“IN THE LÁVVU, Willa heard the gun go off. It was like the river thawing in spring but worse—the sound ricocheted, and she threw the pelts off of her and sat up.”

The simile comparing the gunshot to the river thawing in spring intensifies the suddenness and violence of the sound. The sound’s "ricochet" captures the sharp, bouncing nature of the gunshot, enhancing the auditory impact and conveying Willa's startled reaction.

“He had a story for them, he had a good one. It was about a son who tried to save his father, and he killed a settler, and his father blamed him for it, for the rest of his life, and the dead Swede came back as a spirit, and he followed the son wherever he went, across the old and weighted snow, snow that was strong, that held up their feet as they went.”

The anaphora with the repetition of "and" creates a cumulative effect, layering the narrative with increasing tension and complexity. Symbolically, the act of killing a settler represents the conflict between Indigenous and settler populations, while the dead Swede’s spirit embodies the inescapable guilt and haunting consequences of colonialism. The "old and weighted snow" suggests a burdened past and future that both Indigenous and settlers must navigate, with the "strong" snow symbolizing nature’s supportive, resilient foundation amid human conflicts. This spirit highlights the unresolved historical and ethical debts, emphasizing colonialism's lasting impact and the inescapable nature of these karmic acts, influencing the present and future.