The Only Traffic Signs by Sherman Alexie

Hoop dreams.

It took me long enough, but I finally cracked open Sherman Alexie's collection The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven, and I’ve been savoring each story. Out of the several I’ve read so far, The Only Traffic Signs stands out as my favorite. It’s an extraordinary mix of dark humor and heartbreak, painted against the backdrop of the contemporary indigenous experience. Alexie’s prose dazzles—it leaps off the page with an electric ferocity that reminds me of Junot Díaz’s work, though where Díaz writes about the Dominican-American experience, Alexie zeroes in on indigenous lives shadowed by intergenerational trauma and the weight of colonialism. 

The recurring characters, Adrian and Victor, return in this story as recovering alcoholics. They lounge on the porch, sipping Pepsi, acting as both observers and chroniclers in the slow-moving life of the reservation—a place weighed down by loss but still alive with humor and resilience. Through these characters and their stories, the author reveals how myths and heroes, so central to indigenous storytelling, shape and reinforce the vicious cycles of trauma while offering glimpses of strength and survival.

What I found particularly striking is Alexie’s ability to lace humor through tragedy without being distasteful. It’s not easy to find laughter in pain, especially when grappling with something as profound as the ongoing effects of colonialism and genocide. But Alexie does it in a way that feels genuine and earned, making you laugh one moment and ache the next. Sherman Alexie isn’t afraid to show us the harsh realities of life on the reservation, but he does so with a sharp wit and a deep humanity that leaves you feeling both gutted and strangely hopeful.