Shortly after I arrived in Canada to live, Richard Wagamese, one of Canada's most well-known, most-awarded and most beloved First Nations authors passed away.

I put a bunch of his books on hold at the library as soon as I saw the affect his work had had on people. Their outpourings of love, memories of his work and how they felt at his loss spurred me on to pick up some of his writing.

And as it sometimes happens, more than one book of his came in at the same time. I picked up One Story, One Song first and then put it down after I realised it was a memoir. I don't normally tend to read authors' memoirs first unless I know them well, and even then I tend not to read their memoirs unless I like them. I put up a poll on Goodreads and asked if I should read his memoirs or fiction, and everyone said to keep reading this book, so I did.

This book is separated into four sections: East -- Humility, South -- Trust, West -- Introspection and North -- Wisdom.

And I loved every page. This book will linger with me for a long, long time. Wagamese is such a humble writer but his ability to articulate complex issues is part of the beauty of what makes his writing so good.

He's honest, he pulls no punches and he talks about such difficult topics sometimes, but his writing is so open and vulnerable that it makes it readable rather than turgid and depressing. He is an endless optimist and the more I read his book the more I felt like I made a friend.

He celebrates every tiny little moment and is so, so grateful. He's grateful in a way that's tangible. Reading his work made me want to be a better person. More patient, more giving, more kind.

I loved so many of the oral Ojibway stories that he weaved into his everyday life. Traditional stories are fantastic just as they are, but it is First Nations people who give them life, who give them greater meaning. In Wagamese's stories lay a thousand little lessons I hope to teach to my class one day.

The passages about Obama and Wagamese's hopefulness made me want to cry. After all this man's been through (alcoholism, failed marriages, living on the street, a painful adoption where his family wouldn't allow him to be himself), he still had hope as boundless as the sky.

His story is like so many other First Nations people, and yet it's not. It is singular. It is entirely his own, but collective in its compassion.

If aliens had come to earth before Wagamese's death and asked to speak to someone who exemplifies what a human is, I would've told them to speak to Richard Wagamese. Now that he's dead, I'm not sure who I'd send.

Maybe I'll just give them this book instead.

4.5, may upgrade to a 5 star review later but I need to ponder this deeply. ( )