The Role Of Identity In Joseph Boyden's Three Day Road

The ongoing transformation of Xavier’s identity is the thematic centrepiece of Joseph Boyden’s Three Day Road. Being left to the church very young, he is christened ‘Xavier Bird’ by the nuns, but embraces the name ‘Nephew’ when Niska takes him into her care. He returns to his Christian title when he becomes a soldier, but his forced adoption of the name Elijah Whiskeyjack is a poetic element that offers insight on his fate and the metaphysical ties that bind him to his oldest friend. Even if one were to disregard his relationship with Elijah, Xavier’s shifting identities are benchmarks of his maturation. Joseph Boyden uses Xavier to showcase aboriginal epistemologies, centering on harmony and cooperation, against the backdrop of a World War

II-ravaged Europe. The violent, military settings are interspersed with Niska’s domestic narratives, which only deepen the rift between the representations of Xavier’s upbringing and Elijah’s metamorphosis. My objective for this essay is to explore the role Elijah plays in complicating Xavier’s identity throughout the novel. I argue that Xavier must be read in tandem with Elijah to understand the significance of inherited epistemologies and how they influence Xavier’s self-perceptions. Like Niska, certain levels of Xavier’s maturation have a singular, definitive moment or scene, such as his first moose kill, which is accompanied by his revelation of the circles that define aboriginal spirituality (Boyden 361). I believe that the beginnings of his most formative experiences tend to be marked by the entrance of a teacher or mentor figure. Niska is the most present and obvious example; from the moment she took Xavier from the residential school (Boyden 219), Niska began to pass down the customs and knowledge as had been done to her (220). She assumes the role of an elder, caring for Xavier by passing on traditions and wisdom that fall into the moral paradigm of “harmony” and “deep respect for self and others” (Garrett 13). Niska is Xavier’s parent and teacher, providing lessons on hunting and navigating, which are punctuated by encouraging Xavier to know the world using his physical senses. Niska passes her spiritual abilities and observances to Xavier after he witnesses Niska killing the windigo (Boyden 265). Reminiscent of Niska, Xavier’s relationship with Sergeant McCann and Corporal Thompson, is familial and based on mentorship.

McCann and Thompson’s approaches to ‘teaching’ Xavier and Elijah how fight in the war are similar to the pedagogies Niska acted out, namely the physical “watch and learn” (Boyden 67) approach to education. Michael Garrett establishes a learning sequence that is common among aboriginal groups. It is comprised of first observing and listening, followed by supervised participation and then self-testing, in private when the youth feels ready (15). All of Xavier’s teacher follow a semblance of this process, whether in hunting or war practices. In contrast, the nuns in the residential school were oppressively authoritarian and undemonstrative (Boyden 218), similar to Lieutenant Breech, who relies on commanding from a distance, and earning Xavier’s dislike (Boyden 78) because of it. Xavier’s maturation process, from his early childhood with Niska, to his experiences in the war, is heavily steeped in aboriginal epistemology, and thus tied to nature. Readers and characters alike pick up that his connection to the natural world is his greatest strength. Once Thompson applies this to the war by commanding, “Bird, go to your nest.”, Xavier thinks “I am made for this.” (Boyden 86). Xavier’s teachers, those who cared for him or otherwise, are accompanied by a change in his

immediate environment. His physical locations in the novel move from the oppressive confines of residential schools, to the liberated expanse of the forest, and then to the illusionary freedom of the battlefield that overwhelms the restriction of the trenches. As expected for one tuned to their surroundings, Xavier responds to each shift in space momentously. Niska predicts that Xavier’s stationing in Europe will “change [him] forever” (Boyden 293). Christopher Preston suggests that “perception adjusts and evolves to the demands of its environment” (213). Xavier and Elijah are well attuned to their surroundings due to years of Niska’s lessons and their dedication to developing their shooting and observation skills. Xavier especially is accustomed to the chaotic ‘organization’ of the natural world that can be found in war sites. He is adept at picking up patterns, such as his observations of German sniper routines (Boyden 117), that suggests Xavier brought his previously-established knowledge overseas with him. This confirms Preston’s claim that new ways of thinking will develop from the pre-existing “schemas” one possesses (216). According to Preston, experiences are “shaped” by the past circumstances and memories. Although my focus for this paper is Xavier, I asserted earlier that it is necessary to compare him to Elijah, beginning with their origins. Elijah was left under the guardianship of the nuns longer than Xavier, after his mother died. He had been sexually, physically, and emotionally abused (Boyden 332), which is one of the largest difference between Elijah and Xavier. Xavier does not come from trauma in the same degree that Elijah does. However, the chaos that reigns in nature differs from the chaos found in low-funded residential school, perhaps attesting to why Elijah seemed to adapt to the violence of warfare quicker than Xavier. Although Xavier is, at some points, jealous of Elijah’s ability to communicate in English, a remnant of his time in the residential school, it is eventually replaced, or at least overshadowed by his growing concern for Elijah’s wellbeing. Xavier is more spiritually inclined than Elijah, who goes as far as desecrating sacred practices and symbols. Xavier’s spiritual values are ultimately what helps him through the war and his misery in a foreign land. As Elijah loses himself in the growing gore and bloodlust, Xavier holds tighter to what is most familiar to him. Both men are experiencing a disrupted geography that slowly swamps their senses and conscience. Landscapes and physical spaces serve to ground and confirm beliefs (Preston 215), but Elijah, who had never been grounded, that is, connected to the spiritual values of his aboriginal roots, only loses himself. Interrelationship and unity among nature, including humans, animals and the earth, are more themes that aboriginal upbringings represent (Garrett 14). Xavier, in the beginning of the war, harbours a heavy guilt at senseless killing, to the point that he wonders if 5 days of bad weather is a sign that the “manitous are unhappy with [him]” (Boyden 77). Most aboriginal groups, according to Garrett, adhere to the belief that individuals are part of a greater whole, and that they are each responsible for monitoring their actions to maintain that balance and harmony (17).

While Xavier is aware of the repercussions of his involvement in the war, Elijah increasingly overlooks that morality as the story progresses. Xavier’s self-perception is both mirrored and fragmented by Elijah. Their polarized personalities encourage them to be read as each other’s foil. At the most harmless level, Elijah’s ability to communicate counters Xavier’s silence, but as Xavier uses his English more pressingly to boast and self-aggrandize, an offense to traditional aboriginal values (Garrett 14), he moves further from the roots he shares with Xavier. ‘Warriorship’, although not heavily discussed in the novel, has a certain set of ideals in aboriginal cultures. Among them is the necessity of spiritual strength (Wolf 74) and desire to protect language and culture (77). Ultimately, a warrior is someone who wishes to help and serve the community (73), and Elijah on two separate occasions is characterized as only possessing the desire to be an “Indian that knows how to hide and hunt (Boyden 137), and later a “great chief of the people”. One caveat, is that for Elijah and Xavier, their community is Niska and each other. Even more so that their original

squadron, including McCann and Thompson, is dead. The nobility of the patriotic war narrative is further lost because they are fighting a war for their colonizers an ocean away. The departure from a large collective unit is ultimately what drives the men to misery, but as mentioned before, spiritual strength is what anchors them, and Elijah does not have it. As Elijah departs from Niska’s teaching (aboriginal knowledge), Xavier returns to it moreso. Meanwhile, Elijah’s increased bloodlust and competitive streak serves to alienate him from Xavier. Their pulls in opposing directions eventually reveal between them the fateed dynamic that exists between the hookimah and the windigo (Boyden 44). This perception of self through Elijah evidently helps Xavier realize the metaphysical cycle that he must complete, by killing a windigo. One of Elijah final lines is “you were always the better hunter” (Boyden 369), in which he recognizes the roles that have been allotted to them since the beginning of the war. Xavier’s relationship with Elijah defines his identity as much as his time at war secured his spirituality. His purpose, and perhaps his fate, were nurtured by Niska, whose epistemic wisdom became the key to Xavier’s survival.