Review: A Heart That’s True by Mark Guillerman

A heartwrenching story of separation, indoctrination, resistance, and resilience, A Heart That’s True by Mark Guillerman is a daring piece of historical fiction that speaks to the deepest parts of our shared humanity.

When Joseph and his older cousin Elizabeth are ripped away from their native lands in Montana and shipped across the country to the Carlisle Indian School, they are expected to rip out their cultural roots and assimilate into the white man’s ways. Exposed to the brutal cruelty of a corrupt system and the pressures of their peers to abandon their old lives, these two fiercely strong protagonists battle adversaries from every side.

Joseph’s vow to return to the land of his forefathers carries him through the mistreatment and psychological manipulation of the Indian school. Facing a similar existential challenge as his spirit animal – a mysterious wolf named Big Black – Joseph desperately clings to his true nature, refusing to forget where he came from, and where he will return, but despite his indomitable spirit, the experience leaves him damaged. Mirroring this narrative thread is the story of two relentless hunters, determined to land the bounty on a rogue wolf, but forever underestimating the ability of that wild creature to survive in its native lands.

The writing is focused and plot-driven, but also poetic, taking the time to interweave the story of Big Black into the tale of these courageous children, as the author examines what it truly means to answer the call of the wild. The story is continually laced with powerful themes, from the pain of suppressing one’s identity to the compromises forced upon us that redefine our path in life. The natural world also figures into the undercurrent of wisdom, such as the hybrid wolf pup being raised as a sheep dog, subtly echoing the suppressed instincts of so many children forced into Indian schools.

On that front, the author pulls no punches, taking aim at a piece of America’s shameful history with unflinching resolve, bluntly pulling back the curtain on this black mark of racial subjugation. Historical fiction has often taken an overly romanticized view of the treatment of indigenous populations, and while there are occasional moments that are presented through rose-colored glasses, e.g., Mrs. Johannsen’s maternal grace towards children who had essentially been kidnapped, the author doesn’t overly dilute the raw reality of Indian schools and their lasting impact.

Laced within the critical commentary, the narrative tone is also introspective, which helps soften the discomfort some readers might feel upon reading about, for example, the celebratory atmosphere in town as the captured children arrived to be re-educated. The visceral discomfort is intentional, forcing readers to reckon with their own long-held beliefs, and ideas about the country’s national legacy. While the dialogue can sometimes feel anachronistic, sounding a bit too familiar for a 21st-century ear, the prose is otherwise clean and authentic, and Guillerman’s penchant for emotive storytelling is undeniable.

Gripping, evocative, and steeped in lessons we must never forget, this novel is an understated masterclass in social-historical fiction, which is at once emotional and illuminating.