Well, Canada broke my heart.

There was a tiny fight on TikTok when I asked for recommendations for Canada. Nothing like the uproar when I posted about my pick for Bosnia and Herzegovina (the Balkans are spicy and I’m still a little terrified) but for Canada, folks were roughly divided into two camps I shall describe as “Read Anne of Green Gables!” and “For Fuck’s sake, read anything but that.” I read the entire Anne of Green Gables series as a child, plus I’ve read tons of Margaret Atwood, so once folks suggested I read something by a First Nations author, that seemed like the right choice for me. There were a lot of votes for Five Little Indians by Michelle Good and when I learned it was a novel that followed the lives of five survivors of residential schools, my gut screamed, “Yes, please!”

If you have never heard about residential schools, this Wikipedia article provides a decent crash course. I only learned about residential schools a few years ago when headlines started popping up about the discovery of mass graves.

Michelle Good’s novel sucked me in. It was beautifully written with the sort of writing that carries the reader along. The chapters are told from the viewpoint of five different survivors of the same residential school, and Michelle Good brought them all to life. I felt like I had a personal relationship with each character, and the varying viewpoints was such a brilliant way to show the extent and impact of the abuses committed at the residential schools.

My heart broke for the children stolen from their families and sent to boarding schools meant to crush out their indigenous cultures. And it broke again for the parents who could not save their children. And then my heart shattered because based on media I consumed before Five Little Indians, I thought of Canada as this romantic utopian place with lots of maple syrup and hockey that was immune to the problems of the United States.

Nope. Evil shit also happened in Canada.

But I’m glad this book broke my heart because I think we need to break our hearts in order to let more love inside. It’s like tearing down a wall in order to add a wing to a house. This book added a whole new wing to my heart and soul. Now, when I think of Canada, I’ll still think of L.M. Montgomery and Margaret Atwood, but I’ll also think about the victims of the residential schools. They need us to listen to their stories so they can heal. They need us to listen so humanity can learn and reckon with its evils and grow and do better.