Cass and her mom have always stood on their own against the world. Then Cass learns she had a grandmother, one who was never part of her life, one who has just died and left her and her mother the first house they could call their own. But with it comes more questions than answers: Why is her Mom so determined not to live there? Why was this relative kept so secret? And what is the unusual mask, forgotten in a drawer, trying to tell her? Strange dreams, strange voices, and strange incidents all lead Cass closer to solving the mystery and making connections she never dreamed she had.
Currie manages to bring together an enlightening and interesting read, while also refraining from sanitizing the heart of the issues she addresses. Her works are blunt, honest, and refreshingly warm, and are an important addition to the growing number of literary works by authors of First Nations descent.
Currie has crafted a haunting and sometimes bittersweet novel that touches upon the lost generation of First Nation children.
The Mask That Sang forces readers to confront the ongoing impact of the mistreatment of Canada’s aboriginal peoples, yet at the same time it offers a hopeful and positive perspective, focused on healing and the importance of embracing one’s community and culture.
Currie offers a light, bittersweet story, filtered through the innocence of children, that comes full circle. She does this with an ease that is endearing and educational.... Drawing on her own experience discovering her Cayuga identity, Currie offers a tender, resonant tale.