ABSTRACT
Any notion of a slow-down in Gerald Vizenor’s literary rate of production would be almost ludicrously off-base. His imagination remains not only un-dimmed but, quite as equally, un-de-accelerated, and nowhere more so than in his fiction. The four latest novels that give confirmation, Father Meme (2008), Shrouds of White Earth (2010) , Chair of Tears (2012), and Blue Ravens (2014), do so by extending his bandwidths of invention, not to say contrariety. It has been one thing to celebrate Vizenor’s postindian ethos, his longtime insistence on Native presence over absence and after-image. It is another to alight on his performative virtuosity, that which has led him to speak also of stepping across fixed categories of novel and short story, not to say the discursive essay, and opt for what he terms storying .
