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Sherman Alexie is an Indian, as in Native American. His characters are Indian, living on an Indian reservation. But they don't just happen to be Indian, the way, let's say, Tolstoy's characters would happen to be Russians living in a Russian village. These guys' whole lives revolve around their Indian-ness. Any of them could hardly utter a sentence without somehow referring to himself or some aspect of his life being Indian and juxtaposing himself with someone, who is not an Indian, or a different kind of Indian. I mean, I'm Jewish, and we Jews do tend to go on about our Jewishness, but i've never met a jew who was as single mindedly obsessed about his ethnicity as Alexie's Indians are. This may be an accurate description of the way Indians think and talk for all I know (never met an actual Indian outside book pages), but nevertheless it gets tedious rather quickly, so much that i could barely force myself to finish the book. Even white characters in the book are described solely through their relation with the Indian race (as either Indian haters, Indian sympathizers or Indian wannabes). I did enjoy Alexie's first novel, An Absolutely True Diary of a Part-time Indian, but that one, despite having a fair measure of Indian motifs, did touch on other, universally human, subjects. Reservation Blues, on the other hand, offers nothing except endless Indian this, Indian that. A disappointment.