One of favorite of Leslie's books. It fits in no category. It's a novel, sort of, made up of short stories (one of them by Simon Ortiz, however, and some by Silko's granny and her aunts) and poetry, and photographs and letters, and talk about the how and why of telling stories. As experimental in its way as The Way to Rainy Mountain, although it is superficially more similar to The Names, Momaday's less successful attempt to do something similar.