Red Shadows of the Blood Moon

About the Book

Red Shadows of the Blood Moon is a history lesson, a memoir, and a slap-in-the-face wakeup call for a country whose first people have been relegated to the basement of our national consciousness. John Contway writes like he lives, with a mix of irreverent humor and biting candor. His version of the native oral tradition ranges from the abduction of his Lakota great-grandmother by a Civil War veteran to the genesis of his rock and roll career on the Montana Hi-Line. He reveals a heart too tender for its environment, contrasted by wit and rage sharpened in a world that will never know how to embrace those who refuse to fit a convenient mold. Red Shadows is a great read and an important piece of American literature.

About the Author

I always knew Big John was different, but I didn’t know why, nor did I think about it much. His thinking was on a different level than most high school kids. He had knowledge that I didn’t understand. In many ways he was like an old man in a young man’s body. The questions he asked our teachers were on a different level than us; they were complex, and answers were scarce because our teachers didn’t understand any of us, particularly someone with the level of intellect John was blessed. It wasn’t until I was sixty years old and read his rich family history that I understood him and know why he was different in a good way. He was from the wrong side of the tracks. Big John was not your run-of-the-mill Indian boy. He was different. His mind was sophisticated and knowledgeable of aspects of life that most teenagers never gave a minute of thought. Why did I wait until I read his book to understand him? His compassion and humility defined him as a very unique and wonderful person. At a very young age, he figured out the social echelon in Harlem, the little border town to the Fort Belknap Indian Reservation. It was this understanding that shaped his adventurous life. Since that time the Civil Rights movement happened and many of the experiences Indian children had during the ’50s and ’60s no longer happen. Big John was there; he lived it, felt it, and knew his place. He broke loose of the expected restraints and went on to live the life he led—rock band, social worker, master’s degree, rebel, historian, and author. I would anticipate, perhaps “Red Shadows of the Blood Moon” will become recommended reading for collegiate Native American studies academic curriculum. Love you, Big John.