I’m not saying that delivering newspapers in Barrow had its drawbacks, but the time spent between igloos (sometimes days) was potent with afflatus. A novel was brewing in my brain, and was certain that it would be a best seller. That was until my publisher informed me that they couldn’t proceed with “To Kill a Tundra Swan.” Too bad! It was an Eskimo gothic novel involving racial injustice and the destruction of innocence. The narrator, six-year-old Paj, lives with her older brother Amorak and their widowed father Apukeena, a middle-aged seal hunter. Apukeena is appointed by the elders to defend Old Bill Robinson, a trapper who has been accused of raping a young Inuit, Adine. Anyway, I thought it had potential. Can’t figure out why it was turned down.
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