James BraveWolf grew up in a small New England college town 13 miles outside of Boston — a town where the social engineers were creating a future that would not be Just or Good. And so he began the journey back to his Homeland. In Berlin, Germany, he fed the birds of Schloss Charlottenburg with the last survivors of the Bunker where Adolf Hitler died. And from Poland to Normandy, France, the European landscape told him that there was another future waiting to be born. He has worked all his life for this new birth.
In his own words:
"There are those who have made the ultimate sacrifice to keep me alive. Some say I contain powerful and good energy. Others think my kind should have long ago been shot in the head and left in a ditch. My writing has given birth to these comments: 'There is so much between your words, worlds even. I’ve been trying to put my finger on the power behind them since I first read your work.' Another wrote, 'I love your writing: moving, beautiful, magical. I like your hybrid form, one that I can’t quite place within fiction, poetry, or personal non-fiction. You are doing something new, something uncharted. I think it’s important and you do it well.' And yet another wrote: 'Not only is his screenplay brilliant, intense, empathetic, and writing at its most worthy, James as a human being is, too.' Before you think me arrogant for including the above words — remember: So far, I’ve failed. And time is running out. I am waiting for the moment when I will do what I was placed here to do — to change the very world. Nothing less can justify why people died for me, so that I could live.