The Last Report on the Miracles at Little No Horse

Functioning as the novel’s primary antagonist, Pauline/Leopolda is a contradictory figure whose complex piety blends moments of compassion with acts of intense cruelty and malice, and even her grossest crimes are framed in contradictory terms that illustrate The Ambiguous Nature of Faith and Sainthood. She primarily appears in Father Damien’s reports; in the memories of her biological daughter, Marie; and in the historical accounts of Nanapush. This narrative distance renders Leopolda an enigmatic character whose motivations remain the subject of constant investigation. As the nonlinear narrative gradually reveals her various acts and exploits, from her earliest disruptions to her subsequent mix of compassion, confessions, and crimes, the only point of certainty is that nothing about this woman is certain. Both as Pauline and in her religious calling as a nun, Leopolda embodies a punitive, self-flagellating form of faith that stands in stark contrast to Damien’s compassionate spirituality. Leopolda’s alleged miracles and saintliness are systematically deconstructed throughout the novel, ultimately revealing her ugly foundation of cruelty, manipulation, and profound psychological trauma.

All of Sister Leopolda’s lesser disruptions and moments of cruelty foreshadow the novel’s eventual revelation that she is the one who murders Napoleon Morissey. While the narrative implies that she murders him as revenge for his sexual assault of her, the nature of the murder reflects evidence of a perverse and violent form of devotion. Specifically, because she strangles him with a barbed-wire rosary, she uses the very symbol of her faith as a murder weapon. Likewise, the wounds that she sustains in the attack are passed off as stigmata, and the tetanus that she contracts from the rusty wire is misinterpreted as evidence of divine visions and miracles. In reality, however, she has used the evidence of her murderous nature to elevate her external guise of sanctity, thereby perverting the very faith that she professes to follow with such fervency.

Leopolda also represents a real and present threat to Father Damien, as she intuits his secret and seeks greater and greater spiritual authority within the convent. As time goes on, she uses her reputation for piety to terrorize and control those under her charge, most notably the young Marie, who is the daughter she abandoned long ago—likely because the girl was the result of rape.

While these details remain largely unspoken, Sister Leopolda’s habit of terrorizing Marie soon becomes clear in Father Damien’s remembrances and the elderly Marie’s own recollections of this difficult time in her youth. When Leopolda stabs Marie with a fork, this act reflects her taste for brutal psychological domination. Because Damien is aware of Leopolda’s true nature, he is adamantly opposed to the idea of her beatification and eventual canonization, and all his accounts to Father Jude are designed to disqualify the errant nun from consideration. By questioning Leopolda’s sainthood, Damien seeks to expose the ambiguous and often-destructive nature of institutionalized faith, thereby making amends for the damage that his presence—and the presence of the Church—has caused in the Ojibwe community over the years. Leopolda’s troubled life story thus forces both priests to grapple with the question of what constitutes a miracle and whether acts of “troubling goodness” can arise from a spirit of bitterness and cruelty (52).

Beneath Sister Leopolda’s fearsome piety lies a history of profound suffering that connects her story to the theme of The Intertwining of Love, Sacrifice, and Suffering. As Nanapush recounts, the Puyat family history is one of violence and a “killing hatred between mother and daughter” that has been passed down through generations (157). Leopolda is the product of a deeply traumatic dynamic, a “warped result” of the historical and familial pain that defined her ancestors. Her cruelty can therefore be interpreted as an outward manifestation of her own internal torment and self-hatred. Although this context does not excuse her actions, Nanapush’s story about her ancestors suggests that she has been both a target and a perpetrator of violence. As a result, her immense suffering has been channeled into a corrosive form of zealotry that poisons her even as her toxic presence poisons those around her.

As a mentor, trickster, and master storyteller, Nanapush serves as a crucial foil to Father Damien and represents a vital link to traditional Ojibwe culture. From his very first meeting with Damien, he represents a worldview that is grounded in humor, resilience, and a deep, pragmatic spirituality that contrasts sharply with the rigid dogma of the Catholic Church. He is Damien’s first friend on the reservation, and their relationship facilitates a mutual cultural exchange and a lifelong exchange of ideas. Ironically, although Damien feels himself obligated to try and convert Nanapush to Catholicism, he is the one who ultimately modifies his worldview to incorporate Ojibwe beliefs into his own sense of spirituality. Nanapush accomplishes this gradual transformation by means of his sly and clever tales, which function as essential acts of cultural preservation, instruction, and cunning manipulation. Through his stories, such as the history of the Puyat family, he provides a differing interpretation for the events of the novel—one that actively subverts the official Catholic narrative.

Nanapush’s character is marked by an irrepressible wit and a profound understanding of human nature. For example, his trickster inclinations first appear with his scheme to use the newly arrived priest to break up Kashpaw’s polygamous household so that he might secure a wife for himself. He is both a loving friend and a self-serving opportunist, and he uses his quick wit as a survival tool that allows him to navigate the immense tragedy and loss that his people have endured. Notably, he takes an expansive and inclusive view of faith, seeing no contradiction in embracing both Nanabozho and the Christian God as a “backup.” With his earthy, practical wisdom, he teaches Father Damien to focus on the immediate needs of life, love, and community rather than on abstract forms of salvation.

Lulu is the daughter of Fleur Pillager and Nanapush. Father Damien first holds Lulu when she is a newborn, and the priest immediately falls in love with the child, so much so that he mistakenly places his own name next to Nanapush’s as the father when filling out the certificate of baptism. Lulu is a pivotal figure in Damien’s emotional and spiritual life, as she is the human soul for which he makes his greatest sacrifice. When Damien is visited by the demonic black dog who threatens Lulu’s soul, the priest offers up his own soul in order to protect the girl. Thus, Lulu’s very existence forces Damien to confront the limits of his priestly role and the depths of his human love.

When Lulu is a young girl, her mother, the proud, vengeful Fleur, abandons Lulu to a government school for Indigenous children in order to pursue a complex form of revenge against John James Mauser, the rich white lumber baron who stole her ancestral lands. Because Fleur prioritizes her revenge over her obligations to raise her daughter, Lulu ceases to love her mother and publicly disowns her.

As an adult, Lulu is characterized by her striking beauty and her spirit of “joy.” She grows into a fiercely independent and sensual woman who defies easy categorization. The trauma of being left by her mother at the government boarding school instills in her a powerful resolve never to be dependent on anyone, and she rejects all of Fleur’s attempts at reconciliation. Lulu’s stubborn independence also shapes her relationships with men, whom she loves passionately but briefly. Her greatest devotion is shown to the many children whom she raises on her own. She navigates the world with a combination of her mother’s fierce will, Nanapush’s cunning, and a modern pragmatism. Her vibrant, unapologetic approach to life, which is symbolized by her canary yellow blouse and flamboyant shoes, challenges the somber, penitential world of the convent, rendering her a figure of life-affirming energy.

The formidable Fleur Pillager remains true to an ancient and powerful form of Ojibwe spirituality that is deeply connected to the land and the spirit world. Her presence in the novel is often indirect, related primarily through the elderly Father Damien’s recollections, the memories of Nanapush, and the comments of her grown daughter, Lulu. Fleur’s narrative is one of profound loss, beginning with the theft of her land by John James Mauser, an act that sets her on a lifelong quest for revenge. When Fleur abandons her daughter and journeys into the city to confront Mauser, she uses her wits and allure to dismantle her enemy from within, eventually marrying him and bearing his son, Awun. Her sudden return to the reservation with this “visible form of that revenge” (262) signifies her complicated victory even as it illustrates the enduring weight of her personal and historical trauma.

Mary is a quiet, monumental presence in the novel, serving as Father Damien’s loyal housekeeper, guardian, and silent confidante. A static but round character, she embodies a profound, earthbound spirituality that requires no words. She is the daughter of Quill and Kashpaw, and her childhood has been marked by the trauma of her parents’ violent deaths, an event that renders her largely nonverbal and drives her into a world of intense physical devotion.

Her seemingly mindless tasks—from digging graves ahead of the influenza epidemic to obsessively chopping wood at the convent—are ritualistic expressions of her deep, unarticulated grief and protective instincts. Her physical strength and connection to the earth stand in contrast to the abstract, text-based faith of the Catholic Church. However, Father Damien’s perceptions make it clear that Mary’s presence is deeply embedded in the Christian worldview, for he sees within her face a vision of Christ, and in his mind, this moment confirms Mary’s role as the vessel of an unassuming, powerful holiness. Mary possesses an intuitive understanding that transcends language; she learns Damien’s secret without him needing to speak the truth aloud, and she fiercely protects him in his old age and ultimately provides a final burial that allows him to maintain his secret even after his death. Her unwavering devotion to the priest stands as a lifelong act of quiet, profound love that affirms the unique and sacred bond between the two.

As a man of “singular gift for everyday affection” (22), Berndt offers Agnes a grounded, earthly love. Their relationship develops in a brief, idyllic period of physical and emotional fulfillment before the traumatic events that transform Agnes’s life and psyche forever. When Berndt is murdered at the hands of Arnold “the Actor” Anderson, the notorious bank robber, this event combines with Agnes’s own physical trauma to sever her connection to the hard-won conventional happiness that she once had as an integral part of his life.

Unlike Berndt, Gregory represents a more complex, forbidden love that challenges Agnes’s priestly vocation. They initially connect as equals, ostensibly as the meeting of two male minds and spirits. However, when Gregory discovers that Agnes is a woman, their connection blossoms into a passionate physical relationship. This love forces Agnes to face a direct crisis between her hidden female self and her public male role, and because she has resolved to give her life to the community of Little No Horse as a priest, she makes the ultimate sacrifice and gives up her last chance at romantic love. By choosing to remain in the self-appointed role of Father Damien, she renounces any possibility of a life with Gregory, and this act of self-denial solidifies her commitment to her community and her unique spiritual path.

The household of Kashpaw and his four wives—Margaret, Mashkiigikwe, Quill, and Fishbone—serves as a microcosm of the complex social dynamics of traditional Ojibwe life, which has come under fire due to the encroaching influence of Catholicism and US government policy. Kashpaw, who serves as Nanapush’s friend and foil, is presented as a powerful, humorous, and shrewd man who attempts to maintain his traditional family structure despite the priest’s “civilizing” mission. His wives’ personalities complement one another in a multifaceted system of mutual support. The pragmatic, sharp-tongued Margaret is the only one to have a Christian marriage, and she and the fierce, skilled Mashkiigikwe join forces to keep the practical aspects of the household going. Mashkiigikwe also calms the mind of the gentle but deeply troubled Quill, whose fragile and erratic mental health eventually causes her to treat her family—and particularly her daughter, Mary Kashpaw—with involuntary violence. Finally, Fishbone embodies a sense of quiet grace and maternal duty. With Nanapush and Father Damien’s sudden intrusion into the Kashpaws’ family life, the tinge of regret in the priest’s retrospective narrative makes it clear that if the household had been left in peace, its members would have lived much fuller, happier lives. Damien’s interference, prompted by Nanapush’s schemes, sets off a chain of events that leads to the family’s dissolution, and their downfall is designed to be emblematic of colonialism’s destructive impact on Indigenous social structures.