supernatural force in the story. Babo, Alberta, Dr. Hovaugh, and Charlie all lose their cars and find them replaced with large puddles of water. Since Charlie’s rental car is actually Babo’s car from the United States, King establishes that the water is able to move cars from place to place. This is cemented by the cars’ last appearance when they are transported to the river being held back by the dam.

Water is also used to represent cleansing and renewal. In the middle of the novel, Alberta dreams of a having a child and soaking with her in the tub. As the novel nears its climax, the town of Blossom is soaked in a torrential downpour. Lionel is particularly affected by the storm because he gets caught in the storm while walking to work. Tellingly, Lionel is planning two completely revamp his life when the rainfall begin. The most significant use of water as a renewing force comes at the story’s climax, when the faulty dam breaks after repeated battering by the three cars. The dam break restores the natural flow of the river, but destroys the log cabin belonging to Eli’s family. Despite losing Eli in the dam break, his sister, Norma, is determined to rebuild the family homestead with the help of Lionel and Alberta.

Another theme pervading Green Grass, Running Water is the lack of communication. King develops this by having most of the major characters engage in conversations in which they do not directly respond to the person with whom they are speaking. This pattern is established in the early conversations between Lionel and his aunt, Norma, when she repeatedly prods him about his dead-end life. Instead of addressing these questions and statements, Lionel talks about something else. The device of parallel conversations is used again when Sergeant Cereno interrogates Babo Jones, a female janitor. While Sergeant Cereno tries to ask direct questions about the escape of the Native American elders, Babo repeatedly initiates tangential conversations about her life and past.

King reinforces the isolation experienced by many of the characters through their inability to communicate with each other. Lionel is not only unable to articulate himself to Norma, but to Alberta as well; Charlie and his father are unable to reconcile their different perceptions of life in Hollywood; and Eli suffers the most for his inability to express himself. Eli’s back story reveals how his inability to communicate hindered his relationship with Karen. Eli’s reluctance to take Karen to the Sun Dance and his inability to take her back for a return visit are inextricably linked to his inability to communicate. Karen is warmly accepted at the Sun Dance and equally embraces the experience herself, in part because it reveals things about Eli that he is unwilling to disclose about himself. When Karen dies before they can return to the Sun Dance, Eli loses the chance to explain his withholding of his feelings.

Alberta’s communication problems manifest themselves very differently from those of Eli. Alberta is largely laconic through most of the story in an effort to keep the people around her at arm’s length; however, when she returns to Blossom, she is confronted with the issues she has tried to ignore. As a result, she opens herself up unexpectedly to a female police officer and Latisha. While both are sympathetic, neither is in a position to solve Alberta’s problems. Like many of the characters in Green Grass, Running Water, Alberta learns she must talk and listen to the important people in her life. King uses the issue of communication to reinforce character change; as the main characters become more communicative, they are also able to take action.

Thomas King navigates the intricate balance of cultural identity with remarkable insight, straddling the space between his Native American heritage and the broader white society. Despite his deep-rooted Cherokee lineage, King is inherently part of the latter. In his literary works, especially noted in Green Grass, Running Water and his debut novel, Medicine River, he crafts narratives that resonate with empathy for the marginalized, often offering a keen critique of the dominant societal structures. His storytelling reflects an intimate understanding of both realms, yet it is apparent that his affinity leans toward the underrepresented and misunderstood communities, offering them a voice through his poignant and compassionate prose.

Green Grass, Running Water skillfully engages with contemporary social issues, prominently including the themes of feminism and autonomy. Alberta, a central character, embodies the modern liberated woman—intelligent, well-educated, and financially self-sufficient. Her life choices exemplify her belief in the independence of womanhood; she desires to be a mother yet sees no intrinsic link between motherhood and marriage. Her nurturing nature draws her to Lionel rather than Charlie. Lionel's perceived need for support and care appeals to Alberta, as he is the less conventionally successful of the two men. Despite this connection, Alberta remains firm in her decision against marriage, showcasing her commitment to personal freedom and non-traditional family structures.

In the narrative of Green Grass, Running Water, cultural conflicts are depicted with both subtle and glaring insensitivity from white society towards Native American traditions. These transgressions manifest in various forms, from casual disrespect to more profound violations. One seemingly minor yet telling instance involves a white tourist who stumbles upon a Sun Dance ceremony and begins to photograph it, oblivious to the sacred nature of the event. This act of insensitivity is mirrored by George, who, despite being married to Latisha—a proud and autonomous Native American woman—thoughtlessly considers documenting the ceremony in a similar manner. His dismissive comments about Latisha’s culture during a failed attempt to reconcile with her highlight a lack of respect and understanding that contrasts sharply with the behavior of Eli’s white wife, Karen, who never showed such disdain.

King further explores the theme of cultural transgression through the poignant story of Alberta’s parents, Ada and Amos. The couple set out on a journey to the United States to attend a sacred tribal dance. However, their pilgrimage is marred by an encounter with overbearing customs agents at the border. The agents, exhibiting an oblivious disregard for cultural significance, demand the couple unpack their vehicle. Upon discovering their ceremonial attire adorned with eagle feathers, the agents lay out the garments on the ground and, citing regulations, confiscate them.

After arduous negotiations, Ada and Amos succeed in retrieving their costumes, though they return in disgraceful condition—crumpled in plastic garbage bags with the feathers broken. The return of the costumes fails to address the emotional damage inflicted. The initial encounter, marked by Amos’s unjust arrest, is offensive enough, but the defilement of their sacred regalia compounds the insult. Ultimately, the most egregious act perpetrated by the customs agents was the stripping away of Ada and Amos’s dignity, a violation that cannot be reconciled through mere restitution of their belongings.

The Blackfoot people experienced profound disruptions when a dam was constructed on their tribal land, accompanied by plans for a power plant and a recreational area's development. Among those affected was Eli Stands Alone, a figure who outwardly appeared to have abandoned his roots. Having moved to Toronto, Eli seemed to have turned his back on his ancestral legacy, stepping away from the traditions and bonds that defined his identity.

Yet, beneath this facade of assimilation, Eli's connection to his heritage remained unbroken. Thomas King illustrates Eli's internal struggle and eventual reconciliation with his past. Despite his initial departure, Eli finds himself drawn back to the land and the home his mother built. Armed with the knowledge and confidence acquired in the broader world, Eli emerges as a formidable opponent to the dam's operation. His resistance is not merely a personal quest but a reflection of a deeper, cultural defiance.

For years, Eli stands as a bulwark against the encroachment of development, his presence keeping the project in a prolonged state of uncertainty. It is through the unpredictable agency of the trickster, a symbol of nature's inherent power and unpredictability, that the land ultimately reclaims itself. In this narrative, King underscores the enduring bond between identity and place, illustrating how heritage and resistance are inextricably linked, with Eli's story serving as a poignant testament to the resilience of cultural roots.

The novel explores the intricate relationship between two distinct societies, painting a picture of interconnectedness and mutual reliance. Central to the narrative is the challenge faced by Indigenous communities, particularly in retaining their young members. These individuals often venture beyond the confines of the reserve—a term the author favors over "reservation"—seeking opportunities in the broader world. Despite their physical departure, a metaphorical tether binds them to their roots, ensuring that their journey is not one of abandonment but rather of enrichment.

Upon their return, these young individuals bring back with them a wealth of experiences and perspectives that fortify their cultural heritage. Equipped with newfound knowledge and skills, they become formidable agents in the defense and revival of native traditions. This cycle of departure and return underscores a dynamic symbiosis, wherein the external world offers tools for empowerment while the homeland provides an anchor of identity and resilience.