Sherman Alexies Defiant Brand of Humor in

Blasphemy
Tara E. Friedman

Within one of the most diverse and widely studied genres in

American literary history, the humorous short story receives scant
attention. This relative neglect is unfortunate because humor in short
fiction is helping to animate what some see as a genre with its best
days behind it. While many critics have declared the fall, and even
death, of the American short story since the 1960s, when writing
became too professional, publishing too commercialized and the
insularity and decadence of American literature emphasized
depressing domestic dramas with little pretense to humanistic
growth (Shivani 216; 225), there is much evidence to the contrary
if we take the humorous story into consideration. From Philip Roth
and Charles Bukowski in the 1950s and 1960s to George Saunders
and David Sedaris in the 1990s and today, a number of celebrated
American short story writers have developed and crafted a sort
of humanism through humor. They tackle serious topics aimed
at uncovering social issues, but do so through humor, helping to
further define the meaning and appeal of the American short story
for readers. In his book Wit and Its Relation to the Unconscious,
Sigmund Freud provides still useful conclusions about our
preoccupation with serious, often prohibited subjects and humors
function in society:
Owing to the repression brought about by civilization many primary
pleasures are now disapproved by the censor and lost. But the human
psyche finds renunciation very difficult; hence we discover that
tendencywit furnishes us with a means to make the renunciation
retrogressive and thus to regain what has been lost. (697)

The role of humor, then, is often to challenge social convention and

to poke fun at those taboo subjects in order to express the human
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Critical Insights

condition more fully. One could argue, then, that the survival,
liberation, and growth of humorous fiction come from challenging
authoritys preconceived ideas about the American short story.
While Sherman Alexie has enjoyed much success as a novelist
in books such as Reservation Blues (1995), Indian Killer (1996),
The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian (2007), and Flight
(2007); as a poet in collections such as The Business of Fancydancing
(1992) and Face (2009); and as a screenwriter of Smoke Signals
(1998), it is in his short fiction where he most notably showcases his
powerful humor to American audiences. In the collections The Lone
Ranger and Tonto Fist Fight in Heaven (1993), The Toughest Indian
in the World (2000), and War Dances (2010), Alexie simultaneously
amuses and distresses his audience. The Spokane and Coeur
dAlene writer, who struggles as a diagnosed bipolar and recovering
alcoholic, brings together opposing feelings that he, as author, and
readers alike must reconcile. For example, we see Alexie the fighter,
the rebel, at the heart of his fiction. Critic Ron McFarland explains,
there is a combativeness about Alexie, that he is, in a way, at war
(27). While these collections fully illustrate Alexies combative
tendencies, they also portray the dreamer and his longing for an
idealistic return to childhood, easier times for Native Americans,
and escape from harsh social prejudices. It is through dark comedy
that Alexie most brilliantly displays these oft-warring processes.
While Alexies most recent short story collection, Blasphemy,
demonstrates that dark comedy, it also exhibits a more controlled
and focused anger, rife with humor; he is more precise, more clinical
in his attack against Americans cultural ignorance and Native
Americans subsequent collapse into shame. Through his distinctive
brand of humor in this collection, Alexie criticizes and challenges
American idealism, educates readers on Native American culture
and customs, and ultimately resists the complacency and stagnation
of cultural authority. We must examine the effects of Alexies humor
on contemporary culture in order to appreciate its defiance and
ability to promote change in both the genre of the American short
story and the society it reflects.
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As the title Blasphemy suggests, Alexie brazenly and

unapologetically critiques American idealism, prevailing social
stereotypes, and cultural ideologies that smother individual thought,
creation, and action. In his sixteen new and fifteen selected short
stories, he reminds us of his iconoclastic tendencies, which put him
in a category with the likes of Mark Twain and Philip Roth. Like
these authors, Alexies vehement rejection of moral and cultural
obligations allow for a more individualized, albeit postcolonial,
sense of self-awareness and agency for his characters. Alexie, in
other words, dramatizes Freuds claim that humor can act as a
marker of resistance for the individual against society:
The prevention of abuse or insulting retorts through outer
circumstances is so often the case, that tendency-wit is used with
special preference as a weapon of attack or criticism of superiors who
claim to be in authority. Wit then serves as a resistance against such
authority and as an escape from its pressure. In this factor, too, lies
the charm of the caricature, at which we laugh even if it is badly done
simply because we consider resistance to authority a great merit.
(Freud 699)

Alexies satire exposes the absurdity of routinely followed ideologies,

and, by acting as a form of resistance against such authority, it
argues for the complexity of human experience. His short fiction
examines established stereotypes and long-held, traditional belief
systems and depicts social defiance through comedy. In Blasphemy,
characters fight for their own dignity (instead of succumbing to
corrosive navet and feelings of worthlessness), often through
bleak, yet comedic misadventures. Arguably more than any other
genre in which he writes, Alexies short fiction combines humor
and seriousness to such an extent that readers wonder whether they
should be laughing at all. Alexies humorous realism helps to cement
his status as one of the best short fiction writers in the twentieth
century and beyond.
Blasphemy presents a number of coming-of-age stories of
Native American males growing up both on and off the reservation.
His characters try to navigate not only geography, but also their
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Critical Insights

own identities. As a Native American, Alexie explained in a 2009

interview, one is constantly trying to prove [ones] Indianess by
focusing almost entirely on a reservation-based identity (Big
Think). Native Americans feel the tragedy of their history, the
power and violence of colonialism, and a deep sense of cultural loss
in the modern world, and they often search for and long to hold onto
their native traditions, such as storytelling, family, and a connection
to the natural world. However, many also desire to embrace the
modern world with its popular culture, technology, and freedom
from the pressures to uphold tradition. In an interview called Watch
This: Native American Author Sherman Alexie, Alexie recalls,
Everybody grew up on their own reservation; . . . the quality of
your life depends on how willing you are to get the hell away from
your reservation. Escaping from the traditional world becomes an
important desire for his struggling characters. This juxtaposition of
these worlds in his stories can be perplexing for Alexies characters
and readers alike.
In Blasphemy, Alexies fifteen previously published stories
most notably highlight his characteristic brand of dark humor,
which helps to illustrate how his characters navigate their quests
for identity and self-fulfillment. Alexies humor, much like the
characters who share it, also serves a dual purpose and outcome.
In that 2009 interview, Alexie states, Humor is pretty amazing in
its ability to transcend differences politically, ethnically, racially,
geographically, economicallythere is something about it that
really opens people up spiritually; . . . they listen; they pay attention,
. . . and its also a great way to offend people (Big Think). In quite
possibly his most famous three short storiesThe Toughest Indian
in the World, This Is What It Means To Say Phoenix, Arizona,
and War DancesAlexies dual purposes are at their finest. He
simultaneously unites and offends both Native and non-Native
readers with his sharp wit. To do so, he often relies on an authorial
technique in humor writing called the rule of three, in which the
writer creates a list or series of three ideas or things: the first sets the
theme, the second confirms it, and the third twists it into a moment
of surprise . . . Sherman Alexie is fond of using this strategy for
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191

a kind of dark comic effect (Goebel 40). This practice helps his
characters and readers together grapple with opposing realities: one
bathed in Native American tradition and sorrow, the other, hostile
and white.
Like most of Alexies short fiction, The Toughest Indian in the
World uses humor to contrast the tragedy of cultural loss for Native
Americans living in a contemporary American world with a sense
of hopefulness at the possibility of restoring Indian traditions and
ones sense of self. The story follows an unnamed Spokane Indian as
he drives down Highway 2 and picks up a Lummi prizefighter. The
narrator jests, I loved the smell of Indians, and of Indian hitchhikers
in particular. They were usually in some stage of drunkenness, often
in need of soap and a towel, and always ready to sing (Alexie,
Blasphemy 2930). Here, Alexie uses humor in order to allow his
characters a sense of relief from the heavy burden of tradition and
to show his readers the power of stereotypes, in this case, of the
drunken Indian. In the car, the narrator feels a connection to tradition
through this tough fellow Indian. He states, I threw in the enit, a
reservation colloquialism, because I wanted the fighter to know that
I had grown up on the rez, in the woods, with every Indian in the
world (33). Proving their identities through an association to the
past is important to many of Alexies characters. Enit is a linguistic
representation of his Native language and Spokane tribe and a sign
that the narrator longs for a sense of connection with this stranger.
This idiom is one of many examples of Alexies brand of humor.
Readers will often find his examples of traditionalism simultaneously
reinforce and defy many Native American stereotypes. Alexies dual
purpose in these moments signifies his authorial playfulness. We
simultaneously chuckle and sympathize with his characters, even
those who only appear through memory, such as the last fighter that
the hitchhiker fought. He reveals, I hit him like he was a white
man, the fighter said. I hit him like he was two or three white men
rolled into one (36). Both Native American men are trying to find
a common experience, and the undertones of hostility toward the
white man and colonialism that run rampant in this short piece (and
many others) help them to do so. Alexies use of dark humor in this
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Critical Insights

story helps readers to negotiate this hostility, perhaps making it more

understandable and accessible. Later, after a brief sexual encounter
in a highway motel room, the fighter long gone, the narrator states,
Feeling stronger, I stepped into the shower and searched my body
for changes. . . . I wondered if I was a warrior in this life and if I
had been a warrior in a previous life. . . . Lonely and laughing, I fell
asleep (41). The reference to laughter is purposeful and powerful
here. It serves as an instruction for readers, similar to a stage
direction for actors, reminding them that this story is not simply a
tragedy. Alexies ending exacerbates the nature of the dilemma for
his characters and readers. His sexual encounter is a symbolic one
the narrators connection to tradition through this fellow Native
American warrior makes him feel stronger, but this experience, this
deep connection, also makes him feel more alone in the dichotomous
worlds. It is through laughter that this characterand by extension,
Alexies readerscan begin to understand the necessity of humor
and tragedy in both the traditional and contemporary worlds.
In This Is What It Means To Say Phoenix, Arizona and War
Dances, Alexie continues to navigatewith the aid of humor
the divide between the traditional and the contemporary worlds.
Both stories highlight common motifs found in Alexies work:
a deadbeat father figure, a sons quest for identity in a father-less
world, and a longing for tradition. In This Is What It Means to Say
Phoenix, Arizona, Victor is trying to travel to Phoenix to lay his
absent father to rest. He feels a sudden need for tradition (Alexie,
Blasphemy 78), and after Thomas-Builds-the-Fire, the delicately
persuasive free spirit and marker of tradition, offers his condolences
and a helping hand in his friends quest, Victor hurriedly accepts.
Upon first meeting with Thomas after being notified of his fathers
death, Victor asks his storytelling friend how he heard about his
fathers death. Thomas replies, I heard it on the wind. I heard it
from the birds. I felt it in the sunlight. Also, your mother was just in
here crying (77). Here, Alexie use of the rule of three demonstrates
his characteristic humor. Thomas-Builds-the-Fire embodies the
stereotypical idea that Native Americans are close to nature and can
draw deep spiritual wisdom merely by interacting with the natural
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193

world. Alexie undercuts such typecasting with empirical evidence,

such as the fact that Victors mother was seen crying, all in an effort
to show the absurdity behind many Native American stereotypes. In
a frank, snapshot conversation between the two boys, during which
Thomas tells Victor about a particularly memorable encounter on a
plane ride, Alexie hints at the purpose behind his writing:
She [Cathy the gymnast] was really nice, Thomas said.
Yeah, but everybody talks to everybody on airplanes, Victor said.
Its too bad we cant always be that way.
You always used to tell me I think too much, Thomas said. Now
it sounds like you do.
Maybe I caught it from you.
Yeah.
(Alexie, Blasphemy 83)

Here, and in many other disjointed conversations, Alexie shows

how the gentle ribbing in which the two men indulge shapes each of
their identities as well as their friendship. Thomas is clever and kind
to Victor. His humorous stories connect him and his young friend
to their traditional pasts and contemporary presents as they try to
justify both for their future survival. We should also take note of
Thomas comparison between knowledge and diseaseas if Victor
could catch thinking from him. Here is a gentler Alexie, a man
who dreams of spreading thinking, a true understanding about the
plight of young Native American men to his readership. While the
boys do make it down to Phoenix, lay Victors father to rest, and
collect his money, Thomas helps the young Victor, often through his
witty stories, to cope with his conflicting feelings toward his father
and his culture on his quest for his own self-discovery.
In the fragmented narrative War Dances, Alexie expertly
plays with form as well as function, alternating between humorous
and serious moments to convey the unnamed narrators uncertain
position between two worldsanother key characteristic of his
humor. The narrator finds himself recently diagnosed with a brain
tumor, and we see through a series of flashbacks how he grapples
with having to care for a distant father, who is slowly dying
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Critical Insights

from diabetes. In an early scene, the narrator describes the nurse

in his fathers most recent trip to the hospital for alcohol-related
complications:
She was a nurse, an educated woman, not a damn housekeeper . . .
She knew she was supposed to be compassionate, but my father, an
alcoholic, diabetic Indian with terminally damaged kidneys, had just
endured an incredibly expensive surgery for what? So he could ride
his motorized wheelchair to the bar and win bets by showing off his
disfigured foot? (Alexie, Blasphemy 46)

This darkly humorous depiction juxtaposes the narrators loyalties

to his father with the modern world of medicine. Later in the piece,
the narrator creates a list of questions, an exit interview, for his
father. One of these is: True or False?: when a reservation-raised
Native American dies of alcoholism it should be considered death
by natural causes (Alexie, Blasphemy 68). At the end, the unnamed
narrator declares, There was a rumor that Id grown a tumor but
I killed it with humor (73), a comment that reminds us all of
the power of humor to heal, or at least alleviate, the pressures of
conflicting identities.
Within these contradictory selves, Alexie has also used humor
to offer a scathing, yet compassionate criticism of Native American
and non-Native cultures alike. As such, it holds the power to
offend and to heal. Yet, his sixteen new stories illustrate a growing
frustration and signify a shift in perspective with the brokenness,
the dissonance and alienation of contemporary Native American
life (Row 20). In the new stories from Blasphemy, he seems to
discard almost completely his hopes and dreams for these outcasts
of American society as he aims a more caustic satire at the harmful,
prevailing stereotypes of Native Americans as drunkards and
worthless byproducts of a colonized people. Never one to shy away
from challenging subject matter, Alexie continues to rely heavily
on the theme of ones search for identity and connection, often by
challenging both the old and new worlds alike, but the one side of his
humorthe jokes and the quick wit he bestows upon his characters,
which make his audience laugh out loudseems to come only in the
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195

direst of circumstances. And even then, when this humor functions

as a mild comic relief for both character and reader, the jolliest of his
jokes is gone, having been replaced by a darker irony.
This darker humor is prominent in Breaking and Entering,
a tale of double discrimination and cultural violence. Little else
beyond an introductory character sketch provides some comic relief
to narrator and reflective reporter George Wilsons explanation.
In the opening scene, Wilson recalls an old college professor, Mr.
Barron, a full-time visual aid (Alexie, Blasphemy 250), a sceneeating lead of a Broadway musical (251) who skips and yells
advice to his students about skip[ping] the door (250) or omitting
unnecessary information in projects for his film class. Wilson
carries this piece of advice and uses it to frame his satirical story
of violence and persecution. Throughout the story, he continually
questions his motives, his failing to walk away from a dangerous
situation (260), after killing sixteen-year-old Elder Briggs, a
good kid, by all accounts (257) with a baseball bat for breaking
into his home. Although not accused of any crime, George Wilson
asks, was I morally innocent? (257). While he broke no actual
laws in the killing of what some say was just another black boy,
Wilson is nevertheless crucified by his fellow citizens and the news
media for his excessive violence and apparent racist act (258).
Embittered by years of racial oppression, instead of expressing his
deepest condolences for the slain boy, the light-skinned Wilson calls
a local news program to declare, I am not a white man. I am an
enrolled member of the Spokane Tribe of Indians (259). Wilson
seems to believe this declaration should exonerate him because he,
too, suffers at the hands of a racist society. In the end, Wilson is
unapologetic:
Yes, the kid was a decent athlete; yes, the kid was a decent student;
yes, the kid was a decent person. But he had broken into my house. He
had smashed my window and was stealing my DVDs and, if I had not
been home, would have stolen my computer and television and stereo
and every other valuable thing in my house. And his mother, Althea,
instead of explaining why her good and decent son had broken and
entered a strangers house, committing a felony, had instead decided
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Critical Insights

to blame me and accuse me of being yet another white man who was
always looking to maim another black kid . . . when in fact I was a
reservation Indian who had been plenty fucked myself by generations
of white men. So Althea, do you want to get into a pain contest? Do
you want to participate in the Genocidal Olympics? Whose tragic
history has more breadth and depth and length? (Alexie, Blasphemy
261)

Although it seems that the focus of Alexies critique here is the power
of social influence, this short story explores both steadfast ideology
and reliance on traditional beliefs, such as cultural racism, but also
a new sense of ethnic violence. For example, the narrator admits,
most poignantly, Oh, Jesus, I murdered somebodys potential
(Alexie, Blasphemy 261). Wilson recognizes the power behind the
traditional stereotypes attached to social systems of thought, such as
racism. He also feels the weight of decisions made by this limited
knowledge that is often displayed through violence. George Wilson
epitomizes Alexies dark humor, leaving many readers to question if
they should really be laughing at all.
This collection illustrates a purposeful new direction for
Alexie, one that is rife with paralyzing introspection, violence, and
exhaustion. His dark comedy has become darker, his satire more
biting. These new stories, including Protest, Cry Cry Cry, and
Scars, seem, in title and narrative, to demonstrate Alexies drifting
into darker humor and his frustrating realization that not much has
changed socially and/or politically for Native Americans over the
years. The moments of outright laughter are fewer and replaced by
a much more violent and critical examination of a wider range of
cultural misfortunes. In her New York Times Sunday Book Review
of Blasphemy, Jess Row aptly comments, What becomes clear . . .
as the reader travels farther and farther upstream in this voluminous
collection, is that Alexies gifts have hardened and become reflexive
over time (20). These three short stories, when read together, serve
as a collective cautionary tale for readers, reminding them of the
painful journey of Native American resistance to racism and their
quest for validation. In these stories, the characters Jimmy, Junior,
and Mike demonstrate how Alexies dark humor exposes a satirical
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thoughtfulness. In Protest, the narrator demonstrates dark humor

by reporting that for Native Americans, specifically his friend Jimmy,
a pale Indian (Alexie, Blasphemy 103), their radicalism becomes
inversely proportional to their skin color (104). Jimmys anger
against racist police officers fuels actionhe kicks a cop cruiser
and lands in jail, from where he claims, I resisted . . . Ive started
a resistance movement (105). A day after Jimmys imprisonment,
another cop shoots and kills Harold, a homeless Indian, because
he had a knife. Alexie writes, Harold, trying to reconnect with
his culture, had been taking carving lessons at the Indian Center
(106). Jimmy and Harolds stories reveal two very different Native
American narratives (one trying to reconnect to native culture,
the other resisting the representations and stereotype of colonial
oppression), both of which end with a similar outcome. The narrator
posits, Damn it . . . Indians are still prey animals, enit? When are
they going to stop shooting at us? . . . I was so mad at the world
that I had to make a joke (106). Alexies speaker acknowledges
the failure of humor and uncovers a harsh reality for young Native
American males growing up both on and off the reservation. Jimmy
and Harold both fall victim to the oppression felt by cultural and
individual worthlessness.
In Cry Cry Cry, Alexies recurring character Junior, who
mirrors Jimmy and Harold, is depicted in a humorous way: For a
half-assed Indian, Junior talked full-on spiritual. Yeah, he was a bornagain Indian. At the age of twenty-five, he war-danced for the first
time. Around the same day he started dealing drugs (Blasphemy 1).
Upon getting caught for dealing drugs, Junior declares, Youre the
only one . . . who loves me enough to tell the truth (3). The narrator
responds, I do love you, . . . but I dont love you enough to save
you (4). The narrators words highlight an all-too-familiar problem
among Native populations. Colonialism reduces a whole to a few
of its parts. Perhaps Juniors reduction of Jeri, his former girlfriend,
to the sacred parts of her anatomy and the narrators observation
that those parts stop being sacred when you talk blasphemy about
them (8) focus the readers attention on the raw realism of Alexies
work. In his blasphemy, Alexie tries to strip away our inability or
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Critical Insights

unwillingness to talk about cultural taboos. His newfound reliance

on violence is supposed to awaken us from apathy, our general
uncaring nature of our own individual sufferings from colonialism.
After Junior punched Jeris front teeth out, She left him and lived
on the rez in plain sight. All proud for leaving, she mocked him by
carrying her freedom around like her own kind of war paint. And I
loved her for it (9). Jeris new boyfriend, Dr. Bob, also uses physical
violence by punching her in the face. Upon hearing this news, Junior
drives over to Dr. Bobs house, and after beating him up, says, You
do not fuck with my possessions (11). The narrator remarks:
There it was. The real reason for all of it. It was hatred and revenge,
not love. Maybe at that point, all Junior could see was the Aryan
whod raped him a thousand times. Maybe Junior could only see the
white lightning of colonialism. I dont mean to get so intellectual, but
Im trying to understand. Im trying to explain what happened. Im
trying to explain myself to myself. (Alexie, Blasphemy 11)

Despite these grim reflections, there is an optimistic end to this short

story, when the narrator states, I was dancing for what we Indians
used to be and who we might become again (Alexie, Blasphemy
15). It is only in Alexies ending that the reader gains a momentary
sense of relief from cultural stagnation and perpetual violence. The
narrator returns to cultural traditions in order to help him heal the
wounds inflicted by the hostile contemporary world that has replaced
the old one and illustrates a hopeful humor.
In Scars, an unnamed narrator tells the story of Mike, an
American Indian trying to come to terms with the physical and
emotional scars left by an abusive father. Mike states, Yeah, my
mom knew my dad hit me . . . She never did anything about it.
But thats okay. Nobody else did anything about it, either (Alexie,
Blasphemy 23). Fed up with the abuse, Mike finally kills his father:
I punched him to death because he punched me for years (25).
Instead of humor for comic relief, Alexie continually scars readers
with scenes from Mikes battle: And sometimes . . . she [his
mother] rubs this lotion on my ear. Its some miracle medicine thats
supposed to make scars go away. I dont tell her that shit might
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have worked when I was ten, but it aint going to work now. This
ear is going to look like this forever (24). Beneath Mikes hostility
lies a contradictory longing for revenge and forgiveness: I finally
understand this damn country. I finally know who should lead us.
Its got to be somebody who is equal parts revenge and forgiveness.
Somebody who is equal parts love and blood (2627). Again,
humor, in the rare instances that it appears, is intensely dark. Alexie,
it seems, is tired of the witty repartee between characters, between
his writing and his readers, and instead leaves them with short bursts
of stories filled with pain and suffering. These characters seem to
connect only briefly through humor, and more so through their own
loneliness, isolation, and past demons.
In This Is What It Means to Say Phoenix, Arizona, Alexie
writes, Thomas Builds-the-Fire told his stories to all those who
would stop and listen. He kept telling them long after people had
stopped listening (Blasphemy 88), and maybe this is his final point
to his readers in Blasphemy. Upon a close examination, readers
should see that Alexie uses the ameliorative social and moral
values inherent in irony and satire, as well as certain conventional
character types (including the prejudicial stereotype of the drunken
Indian) as materials for constructing a realistic literary document
for contemporary Indian survival (Evans 48). Alexie can be funny,
to be sure, but at its core, his humor is never just for laughs; it is also
a way for Native Americans, real and fictional, to cope and survive
in the competing worlds in which they find themselves. Alexies
humor
challenges readers of diverse backgrounds to join together to reevaluate past and present ideologies . . . Readers are not passive
receptacles; they engage, question, resist, learn, and grow during the
reading process . . . With its shifting layers and elaborate surprises,
Alexies humor disrupts readers complacency and necessitates
analysis, clarification, and, ultimately, identification. (Coulombe
9596)

Like the many American short story humorists before him, Alexie
encourages readers to reflect upon and reject the apathetic tendencies
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of our culture. His ultimate purpose, however, is to use humor to gain

sympathy for an often ignored, colonized people. Their defiance, as
well as Alexies, is in the storytelling.
Works Cited
Alexie, Sherman. Blasphemy. New York: Grove Press, 2012.
__________. Sherman Alexie Talks to ABFFE About Censorship.
Interview by American Booksellers Foundation for Free Expression.
YouTube. YouTube, 2013. Web. 3 Feb. 2013.
__________. Watch This: Native American Author Sherman Alexie.
NPR. NPR, 2012. Web. 3 Feb. 2014.
__________. Big Think Interview with Sherman Alexie. Big Think. Big
Think, 2009. Web. 3 Feb. 2014.
__________. Flight. New York: Black Cat, 2007.
Coulombe, Joseph L. The Approximate Size of His Favorite Humor:
Sherman Alexies Comic Connections and Disconnections in The
Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven. American Indian
Quarterly 26.1 (Winter 2002): 94117.
Evans, Stephen F. Open Containers: Sherman Alexies Drunken
Indians. American Indian Quarterly 25.1 (Winter 2001): 4672.
Freud, Sigmund. Wit and Its Relation to the Unconscious. The Basic
Writings of Sigmund Freud. Ed. A. A. Brill. New York: Random
House, 1938.
Goebel, Bruce A. Comic Relief: Engaging Students through Humor
Writing. The English Journal 98.6 (Jul., 2009): 3843. JSTOR.
Web. 27 Mar 2014.
McFarland, Ron. Sherman Alexies Polemical Stories. Studies in
American Indian Literatures 9.4 (Winter 1997): 2738. JSTOR. Web.
6 Feb. 2010.
Murdock, Kenneth B. Review: Native American Humor (18001900).
The New England Quarterly 11.3 (Sep. 1938): 644646. JSTOR.
Web. 26 Mar. 2014.
Nelson, Joshua B. Humor is my green card: A Conversation with
Sherman Alexie. World Literature Today 84.4 (Jul./Aug. 2010):
3843. JSTOR. Web. 17 Jun. 2012.

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Row, Jess. Without Reservation. New York Times Sunday Book Review.
21 Nov. 2012. Web. 3 Feb. 2014.
Shivani, Anis. Whatever Happened to the American Short Story?
Contemporary Review 291.1693 (Summer 2009): 216225.
ProQuest. Web. 21 Jan. 2014.
Yaross Lee, Judith. Enter Laughing: American Humor Studies in the
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