Library Mama

I’m sure I heard about this book when it first came out, but somehow, my library didn’t buy it (I’ve since requested that we do so) and we can’t interloan new books… so I forgot about it, until, once again, Charlotte wrote about the sequel.

The Coming of the Dragon by Rebecca Barnhouse.

As the book says on the cover, this is a story of Beowulf. Specifically, it’s the story at the end of the epic poem, when Beowulf is an aged king, and a dragon comes and disrupts the peace. At the beginning of the story, we see a baby wash up to shore in a boat with a dead man, formally and properly laid out. Though there is some dissention from those who think the baby an offering who should be left to the gods, the old woman Amma takes and raises him. Fast forward sixteen years, and young Rune, called so for the rune on the necklace he came with, is living in a hut on a farm with Amma, with a foster father and two unkind stepbrothers in a house nearby. In the summers he helps on the farm, while Amma sings him ballads of kings and of Peaceweavers, noblewomen sent to marry into another tribe and make peace between them. Only in the winters is he allowed to join the other town boys in sword training, which of course puts him at a permanent disadvantage. Even though he’s close to the right age, he isn’t one of King Beowulf’s official warriors. One evening on the mountain, chasing after a runaway goat, Rune meets a stranger hiding a gold cup, who recognizes the rune. While Rune is still on the mountain, the dragon makes its first pass, burning farms, people, and even the king’s Golden Hall. Burning with desire to avenge Amma’s death, Rune sets off on his own to slay the dragon. Though he fails, he learns where the dragon’s cave is, and so comes along on the next, official expedition with Beowulf and his best warriors. Can even King Beowulf defeat a beast whose very presence strikes terror into the hearts of the bravest warrior? And (just supposing here that they actually succeed in killing the dragon), Rune might just find that the hardest part comes afterward. A country whose houses and crops have been burned down and which is surrounded by hostile nations isn’t exactly in the clear, even without a dragon.

I’d really like some of my friends who specialize in Viking to read this for their opinion, but from my point of view, this is bang-up historical fantasy. I didn’t notice any jarring anachronisms either in the setting or, as happens even more often, in the main character’s mindset. That can work in some cases – the Jacky Faber books, for example, which are aiming at adventure more than historical accuracy. Still, the kind of attention to detail found here is a joy. There are no potatoes, velvet, spinning wheels, people saying “hello” or believing in their heart of hearts that slavery is wrong and women are oppressed, to name just a few of the anachronisms that I regularly see in historical fiction. (Though Barnhouse, in her notes, says that it isn't entirely accurate, incorporating bits of Anglo-Saxon culture from a few centuries later.) Even though this is fantasy from a modern point of view, it’s a book that feels like it isn’t fantasy from the point of view of people of the same time from our world. They call for help from the gods, and are encouraged when they see ravens or goats with two-color eyes, r animals beloved of their gods. Everyone has lost people they love, due to war or the dragon or other causes, and this also felt realistically dealt with: lots of pain, and yet life has to go on. One of the reviewers on Amazon complained that Rune lacks self-confidence through the whole book: shouldn’t he start believing in himself at some point? And I would say, why should he? He starts the book as one of the unpopular kids, and getting thrown into a position of power doesn’t stop him from realizing that he’s young for what he’s got to do, and any mistakes he makes would have dire consequences. Really, I find this attitude both believable and much easier to get along with in a protagonist than, say, Eragon, whose unearned self-confidence struck me as arrogant.

At the very end of the book, we meet Hild, sent to Rune’s tribe as a Peaceweaver. She is the heroine in her own right of Peaceweaver, which came out this year. I don’t have time to give it a full review, but it starts and ends at the same point as The Coming of the Dragon, and I enjoyed it hugely as well. More, please!

For some reason, the first of these two books was billed as middle grade fiction, and the second as teen – um, thinking about it, probably because Rune doesn’t kill any people himself, while Hild accidentally kills a would-be murderer. Overall, though, no sex, and what felt like similar amounts of violence with thoughtful reflections on the effects and limitations of using weapons for conflict resolution.

Laundry Day by Maurie J. Manning.
Laundry Day falls somewhere between a graphic novel and a picture book, with a comic book-style layout of cells in a picture book size and target age. Our hero is a little shoeshine boy in a big city, probably around the 1910s. He’s looking fruitlessly for customers when a bright red cloth drops down on him from the tall buildings above. One level up, he sees a Chinese laundress, so he climbs up to ask if it’s hers. It isn’t, but she offers him a moon cake and sends him to a neighbor whom she thinks might be the owner. The little boy’s journey goes on, as he climbs up balconies and across laundry lines, meeting and helping neighbors in small ways. In one case, he takes a penny to an Italian organ grinder from a Ukrainian mother with a crying baby, to see if some music will calm the baby. They are Chinese, Italian, Polish, Jamaican, Ukrainian, and Jewish, as revealed by their hanging laundry and tiny bits of their native languages sprinkled in (pronunciations and definitions given in a glossary at the end). Not until he reaches the roof of the building does he meet the owner. Once he is down on the ground again, the neighborhood is filled with friends instead of strangers and his shoeshine business is booming. One of my youth librarians points out that this is a rare book for preschool/early elementary that takes place during the “Olden Days” in a city rather than on the frontier. This is joyous celebration of the New World and of community.

Cross-posted to http://library-mama.dreamwidth.org and http://sapphireone.livejournal.com .

Two graphic novels about the immigrant experience in New York City have just come into my hands (um, by me purchasing them for the library.) This is the first of them.

Gone to Amerikay by Derek McCullough. Art by Colleen Doran. This graphic novel interweaves the story of three periods of Irish people coming to America. In 1870, Ciara O’Dwyer comes with her young daughter Maire, expecting her husband Fintan to follow soon. She moves in with family in the slums of New York and starts working as a laundress to support herself. Months pass, and even though a letter arrives saying that Fintan is on his way, he never turns up. Only Tim O’Shea, an altar boy with her husband when they were small, comes. Tim tells Ciara that Fintan changed his mind, joined the military, and might turn up in a few years. Meanwhile, he gets involved with the Irish gangs in New York and starts drawing Ciara into his Life of Crime. Meanwhile, in 1960, Johnny McCormack, a young would-be actor, emigrates to New York and finds work performing traditional and original Irish music instead. He falls in love with another Irish boy, a less recent immigrant, who introduces him to the right people but also breaks his heart. Finally, in 2010, businessman Lewis Healy, made rich by the Celtic Tiger, comes with his assistant who is giving him a tour of the origins of “Ciara’s Song.” This was the least interesting story for me – nothing really happens to Lewis himself – but it holds key information to both of the other stories. There is a wee bit of ghost story mixed into this – really just one creepy spread - but lots and lots of Irish song lyrics and an old story or two. I never really got a feel for the modern character, but both Ciara and Johnny have for me a deep inner integrity – that lifted them out of their sordid circumstances and gave the story, despite its many distressing elements, an overall upbeat feeling. I never lost confidence that both Ciara and Johnny would live out their American dreams, despite the many setbacks. Colleen Doran, famous for her work on Sandman, does not disappoint with the beautiful work that captures the people and places of all the different times. There is some violence and implied sex that might make this unsuitable for young children, but overall, this is an uplifting tale of the Irish immigrants in America.

Cross-posted to http://library-mama.dreamwidth.org and http://sapphireone.livejournal.com .

The Entymological Tales of Augustus T. Percival: Petronella Saves Nearly Everyone by Dene LowThis one I picked up just based on the title. It’s funny and light, set just after the turn of the last century. Petronella, a plucky British lass, is just about to have her coming out party, having just turned sixteen. However, two unfortunate events occur. First, her uncle Augustus accidentally swallows a beetle and develops an insatiable and most improper appetite for bugs. Secondly, two foreign dignitaries who showed up at her coming-out party uninvited are kidnapped from it. Despite rival factions of eccentric relatives trying to prevent her from doing so, Petronella sets out to solve both of these mysteries. She is aided by her best friend Jane and Jane’s brother James, a beautiful specimen of manhood. (If only James would notice Petronella as anything but a younger sister! Alas!) Petronella and her Uncle Augustus are both charming characters whom I would love to see more of. This is a romp for middle school and up both as historical fiction and for the mystery, at an age level where mysteries are in short supply.

Age of Bronze. Vols 1-3 by Eric Shanower There was this famous war in the Bronze Age in a city named Troy, about which many, many stories have been written over the centuries, including most famously the Iliad, which somehow doesn’t include some of the most famous bits of the legend. Shanower is doing his best to weave these stories into a cohesive whole. Not only did he read a lot of stories, but he did a lot of art and archeological research to make the settings, the clothes, and the people as accurate and realistic as possible. Naturally, this amount of research appeals to the library geek and the historical recreationist in me, but all would be lost if the story didn’t work. Shanower’s beautifully detailed drawings and expressive text bring the ancient characters to life. He’s made the decision not to have the gods appear in the story, though the characters nearly uniformly strongly believe in them and appear to receive messages from them. While a strong break from the Iliad, it’s a choice that makes the story more accessible to modern readers, who may pray for guidance but don’t generally view people as heroes who succeed only because the gods made it happen. It also makes the story deeper and more ambiguous: did Aphrodite really promise Helen to Paris? Or is this just another excuse from a young man who demonstrates overpowering arrogance and belief in his own charm from the very beginning, starting with deciding to win the royal athletic contests to win back his family’s bull and continuing on to kidnapping Helen instead of liberating the aged aunt he was sent to rescue, just because he didn’t care about an old woman. I just read the entry on the Iliad in Beowulf on the Beach by Jack Murnighan; one of the things he mentions is how cinematic Homer’s language is. This work feels cinematic as well, as the view zooms from close-ups to wide panoramas. Though in line with the Iliad, the war itself is just getting started at the end of volume three, there’s plenty of violence, sex and mayhem to keep things going in the meantime. This is a book that manages to be beautiful, macho and compelling all at the same time.

I am indebted to Colleen at http://www.chasingray.com/ for this as well as the Sisters Grimm… I think she wrote a column about mysteries for kids and teens last summer. Somehow I missed the first in the series and started with the second… though I made it through without noticing, you might wish to start with the first book, The Case of the Missing Marquess.

The Case of the Left-Handed Lady by Nancy Springer. Read by Katherine Kellgren. Enola is the much younger sister of Sherlock – just 14, and knowing her older brother mostly through Dr. Watson’s famous books. Her mother recently ran away, and Enola is now living on her own, hiding from her brothers, who want to send her to boarding school. She and her mother communicate via ciphers in the newspapers, which enterprising readers could try to solve for themselves. Enola is posing as the secretary to a Scientific Perditorian or finder of lost persons, intending to do the finding herself. Dr. Watson comes to her office, seeking help in finding her, but accidentally leading her to the case of a missing society lady, only a few years older than herself. The police and Sherlock Holmes assume that she’s eloped, but Enola doesn’t believe it and uses her wits and multiple disguises to solve the mystery. Enola is an excellent character, determined to stay independent but still figuring herself out, and ever conscious that her name, backwards, spells “Alone.” Raised feminist by her mother, she knowingly manipulates the Victorian conventions regarding females to fit in multiple places without resorting so low as to disguise herself as a man, from high society houses to London’s poor and sooty underbelly. My husband and I both very much enjoyed these. For the children it’s actually aimed at, parents should be aware that there is some violence that could be disturbing for younger or sensitive children – I’d put it as more appropriate for 12 and up than the 10 years I read on the case. Katherine Kellgren’s assured British accents are perfect for Enola and adapt themselves well to the many characters of different classes in the book. Enola might not exist without Sherlock, but she’s well worth reading in her own right, a strong character in a vivid (if vivid is the right word for sooty fog) setting with just the right balance between plot tension and introspection.

We seem to be having an accidental foray into early America. From Philadelphia to Boston, then.

Blindspot by Jane Kamensky and Jill Lepore Our story here is told by two separate narrators. The first is a disgraced and indebted Scottish painter by the name of Stewart Jameson. He is fleeing Edinburgh, both the debt collectors and in search of his friend, Ignatius Alexander. Jameson tells us, the Dear Reader, that Alexander is an African-born, British educated doctor, but not how or why they were separated. Jameson hopes both to find his friend and earn the money to repay his debt in Boston. Meanwhile, Fanny Easton writes letters to a former schoolmate telling her plans to escape the Manufactory. She is the daughter of one of a judge, but she was disowned and thrown out of the house after her art tutor impregnated her. Now she has seen Jameson’s advertisement in the paper looking for an apprentice and decides to disguise herself as a boy, Francis Weston, to take the job. Then, Samuel Bradstreet, prominent citizen, revolutionary and early abolitionist is murdered, found dead just after sitting for his portrait. Jameson and Weston are key witnesses. Suspected are Bradstreet’s slaves, whose verbal promise to free them on his death is all the evidence the court really seems to want. But one of the slaves recognizes Fanny and asks for help, and she, as a guilty former owner, feels obliged to help. Early revolutionary and racial politics, intrigue and a whole lot of gender-bending sexual tension make this a fascinating and page-turning historical. The authors are both historians; some notes on the accuracy of the piece are included in book, and more on their website.

Elijah of Buxton by Christopher Paul Curtis Christopher Paul Curtis, native of Flint, Michigan, is the king of taking a serious topic and telling a funny children’s story about it. In Bud, Not Buddy, for example, he tells the story of a black, motherless boy hitchhiking across Michigan during the Depression. If you were looking for a cheerful story, you might just turn the other way after reading that description. And you would be very wrong. It is a book to make you laugh out loud, even though the tough realities of the Depression are still there. Yes, it won the Newbery, and it deserved it.

But here we’re talking about Elijah of Buxton. Elijah is the first free-born child in the town of Buxton, Ontario, a refuge for runaway slaves. Elijah is a mischievous boy who tells the stories of his pranks in colloquial language. I expect I’ll want to listen to it soon, too, as the narration style would make for a great listening book with the right reader. The anecdotes, filled with the colorful characters and details of life in the town, build slowly in intensity. Then, the details that seemed unconnected come together, as Elijah finds himself crossing the border to the United States in pursuit of a thief who has stolen the funds meant to buy the freedom of an entire family. Still, the story is funny through most of the book, moving, captivating. I was left in awe of Christopher Paul Curtis once again.

I've been a fan of Donna Jo Napoli's since her enchanting retelling of Rapunzel, Zel, which I read in my children's lit class. Here's her latest:

Hush by Donna Jo Napoli Melkorka has been raised princess of a small kingdom in Ireland. While the priest tries to convince her father to outlaw slavery, she has always looked down on slaves and believed slavery necessary and permanent. Then she and her little sister, Bridget, are kidnapped. They are taken on board a Russian slave ship and soon far beyond anything Melkorka has ever seen. Her mother had told her often that she needed to learn to hush; and, when they were riding off secretly to hopeful safety, not to tell anyone who she is. So Mel hushes, using silence as both sword and shield. This isn’t exactly a beach read, nor, with its stark depiction of slavery and rape, is it for young children. For teens and up, though, it’s a moving story. Mel’s difficult personal journey is balanced with the excitement of exploring the known world of A.D. 900. An author’s note at the end explains that this is her back story for a princess Melkorka who is mentioned briefly in an ancient saga of Iceland.

The Masque of the Black Tulip by Lauren Willig Eloise is a Harvard graduate student, writing her dissertation on English spies in France after the Revolution. She's in England, worming her way into old family archives to find the truth behind spies who, unlike the Scarlet Pimpernel, were never unmasked during their lifetime. Her modern-day dilemmas are the frame for the story of the spies she's researching. In this second book of the series, our spies are Lady Henrietta Selwick and Lord Miles Dorrington. They are under great suspicion from France, as they are the little sister and best friend of Lord Richard Selwick, formerly the Purple Gentian. Either one of them could be or could lead the French to the Pink Carnation, the subject of the first book. In fact, the Pink Carnation is trying to get word to them that France has unleashed its deadliest assassin, the Black Tulip, on England. Both Hen and Miles are eager to help the Pink Carnation discover the identity of the Black Tulip. Miles is struggling with the realization that Henrietta is prettier than ever – and strictly off limits. It is equal parts intrigue and romance, with each cropping up at inconvenient moments for the other. The author, herself a Harvard graduate student, pays attention to historical accuracy, with a note at the back to explain where and why she changed things. This is delicious fun.