"Our names – Atiqput – are very meaningful. They are our identification. They are our Spirits. We are named after what's in the sky for strength, what’s in the water ... the land, body parts. Every name is attached to every part of our body and mind. Yes, every name is alive. Every name has a meaning. Much of our names have been misspelled and many of them have lost their meanings forever. Our Project Naming has been about identifying Inuit, who became nameless over the years, just "unidentified eskimos ..." With Project Naming, we have put Inuit meanings back in the pictures, back to life." Piita Irniq For over two decades, Inuit collaborators living across Inuit Nunangat and in the South have returned names to hundreds of previously anonymous Inuit seen in historical photographs held by Library and Archives Canada as part of Project Naming. This innovative photo-based history research initiative was established by the Inuit school Nunavut Sivuniksavut and the national archive. Atiqput celebrates Inuit naming practices and through them honours Inuit culture, history, and storytelling. Narratives by Inuit elders, including Sally Kate Webster, Piita Irniq, Manitok Thompson, Ann Meekitjuk Hanson, and David Serkoak, form the heart of the book, as they reflect on naming traditions and the intergenerational conversations spurred by the photographic archive. Other contributions present scholarly insights and research projects that extend Project Naming’s methodology, interspersed with pictorial essays by the artist Barry Pottle and the filmmaker Asinnajaq. Through oral testimony and photography, Atiqput rewrites the historical record created by settler societies and challenges a legacy of colonial visualization.

Arthur Ray's extensive knowledge in the history of the fur trade and Native economic history brought him into the courts as an expert witness in the mid-1980s. For over twenty-five years he has been a part of landmark litigation concerning treaty rights, Aboriginal title, and Métis rights. In Telling It to the Judge, Ray recalls lengthy courtroom battles over lines of evidence, historical interpretation, and philosophies of history, reflecting on the problems inherent in teaching history in the adversarial courtroom setting. Told with charm and based on extensive experience, Telling It to the Judge is a unique narrative of courtroom strategy in the effort to obtain constitutional recognition of Aboriginal and treaty rights.

There are several historical accounts of the Treaty 7 agreement between the government and prairie First Nations but none from the perspective of the aboriginal people involved. In spite of their perceived silence, however, the elders of each nation involved have maintained an oral history of events, passing on from generation to generation many stories about the circumstances surrounding Treaty 7 and the subsequent administration of the agreement. The True Spirit and Original Intent of Treaty 7 gathers the "collective memory" of the elders about Treaty 7 to provide unique insights into a crucial historical event and the complex ways of the aboriginal people.

Before Ontario there was ice. As the last ice age came to an end, land began to emerge from the melting glaciers. With time, plants and animals moved into the new landscape and people followed. For almost 15,000 years, the land that is now Ontario has provided a home for their descendants: hundreds of generations of First Peoples. With contributions from the province's leading archaeologists, Before Ontario provides both an outline of Ontario's ancient past and an easy to understand explanation of how archaeology works. The authors show how archaeologists are able to study items as diverse as fish bones, flakes of stone, and stains in the soil to reconstruct the events and places of a distant past - fishing parties, long-distance trade, and houses built to withstand frigid winters. Presenting new insights into archaeology’s purpose and practice, Before Ontario bridges the gap between the modern world and a past that can seem distant and unfamiliar, but is not beyond our reach. Contributors include Christopher Ellis (University of Western Ontario), Neal Ferris (University of Western Ontario/Museum of Ontario Archaeology), William Fox (Canadian Museum of Civilization/Royal Ontario Museum), Scott Hamilton (Lakehead University), Susan Jamieson (Trent University Archaeological Research Centre - TUARC), Mima Kapches (Royal Ontario Museum), Anne Keenleyside (TUARC), Stephen Monckton (Bioarchaeological Research), Marit Munson (TUARC), Kris Nahrgang (Kawartha Nishnawbe First Nation), Suzanne Needs-Howarth (Perca Zooarchaeological Research), Cath Oberholtzer (TUARC), Michael Spence (University of Western Ontario), Andrew Stewart (Strata Consulting Inc.), Gary Warrick (Wilfrid Laurier University), and Ron Williamson (Archaeological Services Inc).

The cornerstone of Clark's argument is the 1763 Royal Proclamation which forbade non-natives under British authority to molest or disturb any tribe or tribal territory in British North America. Clark contends that this proclamation had legislative force and that, since imperial law on this matter has never been repealed, the right to self-government continues to exist for Canadian natives.

A silent clapboard church on a barren Arctic landscape is more than just a place of worship: it is a symbol that can evoke fraught reactions to the history of Christian colonization. In the Inuit homeland of Northern Labrador, however, that church is more likely to resonate with the voices of a well-rehearsed choir accompanied by an accomplished string orchestra or spirited brass bands. The Inuit making this music are stewards of a tradition of complex sacred music introduced by Moravian missionaries in the late 1700s – a tradition that, over time, these musicians transformed into a cultural expression genuinely their own. Called Upstairs is the story of this Labrador Inuit music practice. It is not principally a story of forced adoption but of adaptation, mediation, and agency, exploring the transformation of a colonial artifact into an expression of Inuit aesthetic preference, spirituality, and community identity. Often overlaying the Moravian traditions with defining characteristics drawn from pre-contact expressive culture, Inuit musicians imbued this once-alien music with their own voices. Told through archival documents, oral histories of Inuit musicians, and the music itself, Called Upstairs tracks the emergence of this Labrador Moravian music tradition across two and a half centuries. Tom Gordon presents a chronicle of Inuit leadership and agency in the face of colonialism through a unique lens. In this time of reconciliation, this story offers a window into Inuit resilience and the power of a culture’s creative expressions.

The nineteenth century was a time of upheaval for the Algonquin people. As they came into more sustained contact with fur traders, missionaries, settlers, and other outside agents, their ways of life were disrupted and forever changed. Yet the Algonquin were not entirely without control over the cultural change that confronted them in this period. Where the opportunity arose, they adapted by making decisions and choices according to their own interests. Cultural Change among the Algonquin in the Nineteenth Century traces the history of settler-Indigenous encounter in two areas around the modern Ontario-Quebec border, in the period after colonial incursion but before the full effects of the Indian Act of 1876 were felt. While Lake Timiskaming was the site of commercial logging operations beginning in the 1830s, the Lake Abitibi region had much less contact with outsiders until the early twentieth century. These different timelines permit comparison of social and cultural change among Indigenous peoples of these two regions. Drawing on nineteenth-century archival sources and twentieth-century ethnographic accounts, Leila Inksetter sheds new light on band formation and governance, the introduction of elected chiefs, food provisioning, environmental changes, and the interaction between Indigenous spirituality and Catholicism. Cultural change among the nineteenth-century Algonquin was experienced not only as an uninvited imposition from outside but as a dynamic response to new circumstances by Indigenous people themselves. Inksetter makes a case for greater recognition of Algonquin agency and decision making in this period before the implementation of the Indian Act.