Curiously enough, the key to arriving at a real understanding of what just Motorcycles and Sweetgrass is trying to say likely isn’t discovered by extricating all the stuff about the Trickster archetype which permeates the novel. Or even, for that matter, from close scrutiny of the adventures of the stranger who arrives in town and shakes up everything. Nor is it probably located in the significance of the stranger riding an Indian brand motorcycle, though that is definitely a nice touch.
The key to following all the various narrative breadcrumbs and piecing together all the truly strange occurrences with the more mainstream story at the center is, more than likely, to be found in the very brief—the extraordinarily fleeting—argument which takes place among the members of the Otter Lake Debating Society over one of the burning issues of the modern age: Ginger or Mary Ann?
Chapter Three draws to a close with Judas, Marty, Gene, and Michael engaging in the age-old debate—relatively speaking—over which female castaway stranded on Gilligan’s Island was the hottest: voluptuous glamour queen Ginger Grant or cute wide-eyed innocent girl-next-door Mary Ann Summers? It is a fight which has raged since the sitcom premiere in the early 1960’s, gaining legs almost certainly due in large part to the fact that it no mere debate over preference for feminine looks, but provides insight into the psychology of those who pick sides. There is no need to go into detail over the myriad ways in which deciding one way or the other offers clues into one’s psyche; those who wonder are definitely at no loss of available research. The significant thing here is specifically what Michael Mukwa’s clearly defined presence for Ginger Grant has to say about his psychological state of mind:
“Michael Mukwa was waiting for a Movie Star to enter his life. Faith has often been described as belief without proof, and Michael had a lot of faith this would happen eventually.”
Clearly, there is much more going on here in choosing Ginger over Mary Ann than merely preferring flash to simplicity, curves to a more physically fit frame, and Hollywood sophistication to Kansas farmgirl innocence. The truth here may not be hitting home quite as it should: all that stuff about Michael’s having faith that glamorous woman like Ginger will enter his life is by no means whatever limited to Michael. That faith is, in fact, an essential element of the debate: Mary Ann is by definition far more attainable in theory than Ginger Grant. How this debate becomes key to understanding what the novel is reaching for is bound up in that division between faith based on belief without proof and faith based firmly—if every bit as absurdly—upon possibility.
As a reader, either you believe Nanabush exists, or you don’t. Either you accept that raccoons can gather as a menacing mob and communicate with someone who at least looks like a normal everyday human being. or you don’t. The weird thing, of course, is that both those who believe and those who don’t are presented with irrefutable evidence. The scene in which the mob of raccoons communicate with an entity that seems to be nothing but human being does takes place. It is situated as reality that is witnessed by external observers who definitely are nothing but human. It happened; this was no dream.
The author is placing faith in readers that when they reach this singularly bizarre event, they don’t toss the book across the room in disgust at the lack of realism. It may not seem like it, but to continue reading is an act of faith. To push through to the end of the story is to keep the faith that even as the story spins farther and farther outward from reality, it still just might possibly be real enough to actually happen. Near the end of the book one character asks another, “Ah, now do you believe me?” to which the person he is addressing responds, “I believe nothing.”
When all is said and done, this book is about belief. And the response given by the first person to the second person could very well serve as the succinct encapsulation of the story’s theme: “Now that’s silly and I like it.” That description of faith provided above is not entirely correct. Faith is not merely belief without proof. Faith is also the lack of belief when presented with proof.
