The word for "reservation" in the Ojibwe Indian language is "ishkonigan," which has the rather sardonic meaning of "leftovers," author David Treuer points out in his newest book "Rez Life."

Treuer will be in Albany this week to read from and discuss "Rez Life: An Indian's Journey Through Reservation Life" (Grove Press, 2013), his first work of nonfiction.

In "Rez Life," Treuer sets out to explore history and Indian life today. He moves effortlessly between past and present, bringing a novelist's sense of pacing and ear for dialogue to bear on complicated issues such as sovereignty, fishing rights, tribal justice and loss of native languages.

Treuer's novels are "The Translation of Dr. Apelles," "The Hiawatha," and "Little." He is also the editor of the anthology "Native American Fiction: A User's Manual."

Treuer lives in Los Angeles and teaches literature and creative writing at the University of Southern California; during summers, he lives on Leech Lake Reservation in Minnesota, where he was raised. He will speak at the University at Albany on Thursday as part of the New York State Visiting Writers series.

Q: You emphasize that reservations were not "given" to Native Americans by the government; they were reserved, together with native people's rights, when treaties were signed. Why is this distinction important?

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If you go

Author David Treuer reads from and discusses his book of history/memoir, "Rez Life"

When: Seminar at 4:15 p.m., reading at 8 p.m. Thursday.

Where: Standish Room, Science Library, University at Albany uptown campus

Notes: The seminar and reading are free.

Info: 442-5620;;

A: The distinction is very important. A lot of people (and many American Indians included) believe that Indian reservations are some kind of pity payment, some grand "gift" to Indians for centuries of mistreatment. Others think that reservations are prisons of a kind where we are "forced" to live. Neither belief is true. Reservations are Indian land, governed by Indian tribes, settled by Indian people. They aren't a gift, and they aren't welfare — they are the remnants of once-vast homelands.

Q: What is it like to divide your time between L.A. and Leech Lake Reservation, which I imagine are two incredibly different places?

A: They are different. But I try to remember: I live in California not by permission of the United States but rather because of the generosity of California Indian tribes who have extended all of us the courtesy to live here. I miss my homeland. I miss it terribly. But I also enjoy California and think of it as an "annex" to Leech Lake.

Q: You usually use the word "Indians" rather than the more politically correct terms like "Native Americans." Why?

A: Pure art. I am not offended by any of the three major appellations: American Indian, Native American, Indian. Some people are. As for me, I used "Indian" because it rolls off the tongue a little better than the others.

Q: You write that native languages are being rapidly lost, although your own Ojibwe is one of the few that still has a "vibrant community of speakers." How important is the continued life of native languages to Indian identity?

A: There are many things that, taken together, make up a culture (kinship, religion, economy, lifestyle, geography, folklore), but chief among them is language. Without our tribal languages, we risk becoming ethnicities rather than cultures.

Q: How can it be that on many reservations, as you write, "there are more white people living there than Indian people," and what does that mean for the future?

A: How can it be? The Dawes Act, the Nelson Act and the Burke Amendment. In short — American politics. I don't know what it means for the future. In "Rez Life," I tried to show what it means for the past and present: That we (Indians and non-Indians) are in much more constant and complicated contact than most people imagine. Indians are not isolated from America and America is not separate or distant from Indian communities. We are in this — this being the 21st century — very much together.
