Review: From The Ashes by Jesse Thistle

This memoir is narrative more than it is introspective. Having read it, I now know the darkest events that marked Jesse Thistle’s life, but I still don’t really know who Jesse Thistle is. What was it that went through his head or tore apart his heart when he went from kicking one addiction to immediately starting another? What was it that kept him going through each tragedy, rather than succumbing to the horrors of homelessness and addiction like so many others? What was it that finally gave him the strength to go clean, that last time?

I think the memoir wasn’t written to answer these questions, but to teach the reader the answer to a different question: why is it that homeless people can’t just get back on their feet? Thistle shows us — often in gory detail — how illiteracy, the pressures of starvation, medical problems, workplace exploitation, court fees and police records, ragged wardrobes, and broken social networks all work together to make that feat near impossible, even outside of drug dependency. But there is a missing piece to his answer, the human emotions of it that are shared with even comfortably-housed readers: relationships with father figures that corrode under mutual toxic masculinity, separation from social communities, addiction, reconciliation. How do you process these experiences? How do they feel? Solving the problem of homelessness is not just a matter of charity, of getting people off the streets, but of recognition of humanity. Weaving in not just the main narrative beats of his life path but also the parts of his experience that are surprisingly universal would have made for a more powerful, unforgettable book.

To ask someone to share the deepest parts of their heart is a lot. I am often a little awestruck when I find an author who can do so — recent partially-autobiographical reads Ti Amo and This Accident of Being Lost come to mind. I can understand why an advocate for the Metis people and for homeless people, who is probably asked often to share his experiences for the advancement of the cause, might try to keep a little bit of himself to himself.

Structurally, the memoir is a series of poems and short stories that rarely span more than one chapter. Thistle crafts them well: they are well-paced, filled with striking imagery, and encapsulate particular challenges or issues tidily. But it leads to an overall disjointed narrative. A teacher shows him kindness, then is never heard of again. His mother welcomes him to her home, but he rebuffs her, and the topic is not raised again. The world is similarly disjointed. There are brief allusions to the lack of treaty rights for the Metis, the declining social safety net, the lack of workplace protections for day labourers. If we want to house everyone in Canada, we need to recognize how each of these are related.