Dragon Castle
By Joseph Bruchac
Dial Books (an imprint of Penguin)
$16.99
ISBN: 978-0-8037-33767-3
Ages 10-14
On shelves now.
“When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much the old man had learned in seven years.” This quote is often attributed to Mark Twain though no one has ever been able to prove it much one way or another. The sentiment, however, is universal. There comes a certain time in a young teen’s life when their parents lose a bit of their luster. Suddenly the kid feels that they themselves are the arbitrators of the universe and their parents old has-beens without a brain to share. Not every teenager feels this way, obviously, but a whole mess of them do and it’s rare that I see this feeling portrayed in a work of fiction as brilliantly as it is in Joseph Bruchac’s latest novel Dragon Castle. Best known for his books that have, in some ways, called upon his Abenaki Indian heritage, Bruchac switches gears and presents a book that finds its roots in another part of his family: His Slovakian ancestry. The result is a wry, funny, thoroughly enjoyable book from start to finish. The kind of fantasy novel a person can sink into with glee.
Prince Rashko has a problem. On the horizon marches a large army of foes, clearly bent on conquering his castle. His parents, not the brightest sorts to begin with, have been lured away to fairyland in the interim and don’t look like they’ll be home for a while. His older brother Paulek, meanwhile, keen to invite the invaders in for some good old fashioned sparring exercises, let’s them in without a second thought. Their castle, the impressive Hladka Hvorka, was raised by the legendry hero Pavol and it houses a secret. A secret the army’s evil Baron wants. A secret Rashko will have to use all his ingenuity to protect. That said, if he just pays a little bit of attention, Rashko will find that he has friends of all sorts willing to help him out. He need simply trust them. An extensive Author’s Note, Cast of Characters, Places, and Slovak Vocabulary and Numbers appear at the end of the book.
Right from the start Rashko informs us in no uncertain terms that his parents are less than entirely intelligent. That they’re a sandwich short of a picnic. A Brady short of a bunch. The wheel is running but the hamster’s dead. “Why, I sometimes wonder, am I the only one in our family who ever seems to entertain a thought as anything other than a transient visitor?” Bruchac starts us off with a hero who is sympathetic not necessarily because he has a sterling personality, but rather because kids who see their own families in much the same light will sympathize. Never mind that as the story continues Bruchac manages to show instances of Rashko’s parents and older brother showing great savvy while looking like they are dumb as a trio of stumps. You believe that Rashko is truly ignorant of these moments. To my surprise, he does change his tune a little by the story’s close but not as much as you might think. Though he ends his story by saying that he has been too quick to judge his family, he still doesn’t quite understand his brother’s role in everything that has occurred. Telegraphing information to your readership without overdoing it is no easy task. Mr. Bruchac, however, is clearly an old pro at the height of his game.
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A Monster Calls
By Patrick Ness
Inspired by an idea from Siobhan Dowd
Illustrated by Jim Kay
Candlewick Press
$16.99
ISBN: 978-0-7636-5559-4
Ages 11 and up
On shelves now
I don’t mind metaphors as much as I might. I think that generally I’m supposed to hate them when they show up in children’s literature. I don’t if they’re done well, though. Maybe if I were an adult encountering The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe for the first time I’d find the Jesus allegory annoying, but as a kid it flew right over me. Similarly, if I were an eleven-years-old today and someone handed me A Monster Calls I could read this whole book and not once speculate as to what the monster “really means”. Author Patrick Ness (who also wrote a book called Monsters of Men just to confuse you) writes a layered story that can be taken straight or at an angle, depending on what you want out of the book. What I wanted was a great story, compelling characters, and a killer ending. That I got and so much more.
The monster comes at 12:07. It would probably be easier for everyone, the monster included, if Conor were afraid of it, but he isn’t. Conor’s afraid of much worse things at the moment. His mom has cancer and this time the treatments don’t seem to be working as well as they have in the past. He’s plagued by a nightmare so awful he believes that no one else ever need know of it. Bullies at school pound him regularly, his grandmother is annoying, and his dad lives with a different family in America. The crazy thing is that Conor kind of wants to be punished, but the monster has a different purpose in mind. It’s going to tell him three stories and when it’s done Conor will tell him a fourth. A fourth that is the truth and also the last thing he’d ever want to say.
For the record, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate a book that includes the word “monster” in the title and then proceeds to include lots o’ monster. Since we’re dealing with the serious subject matter of a boy learning to forgive himself as his mother dies of cancer, Ness could also be forgiven for just putting a dab of monster here or a dribble of monster there. Instead he starts with the monster (“The monster showed up just after midnight. As they do.”) continues to pile on the monster scenes, and by the time you reach the end there’s not a kid alive who could say they were mislead by the cover or title. The monster in this book isn’t the only wild Green Man to be published this year. Season Of Secrets by Sally Nicholls
With the final Harry Potter movie in theaters making more money than the very nation has in its coffers (or so my lackadaisical understanding of politics leads me to believe) there have been a whole slew of articles about Harry. These include articles on the kids in the movie, on what Rowling’s up to now, on Harry Potter World in Florida, etc. Tellingly one article I have yet to see, and maybe I just haven’t looked hard enough, is a then-and-now examination of the series’ influence on fantasy.
Recall if you will what the world was like when Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix was first published in 2003. By that point the books were recognized as a phenomena and the movies in turn were directing fans back to the literature. As a result, the middle grade and YA market suddenly saw an explosion in published mediocre fantasies. Lots of wizard schools. Lots of chosen ones. Lots of alternate world building. When the final HP book was published, fantasy was at its peak.
Now with the final Harry Potter film in theaters the market is a little different. So what is the state of modern fantasy today? I’m still reading everything I can, and not just fantasy, but I’ve seen a nice swath of titles. They give me a sense of how things have changed since Harry took his final trip to Platform 9 3/4.
- As I see it wizard schools are still around in spirit but they’ve expanded a bit. You’ll find them in books like Rachel Neumeier’s The Floating Islands, but by and large the school experience has had to encompass more than just magic. There’s Knightly Academy in The Secret Prince by Violet Haberdasher where kids train to become knights. There’s The Dragon’s Tooth by N.D. Wilson where school consists of secret society classes. Not magical ones. And Kat, Incorrigible by Stephanie Burgis hints at a magic school/society, but our heroine has yet to attend.
- It has been a very good year for evil women. Forget big bad guys like Voldemort. Though some male baddies have certainly made names for themselves, this year the ladies are the ones to watch out for. From The Snow Queen in Anne Ursu’s Breadcrumbs to The Countess in The Emerald Atlas by John Stephens to every single female save one in Liesl and Po by Lauren Oliver, lasses be evil. I noticed that quite a few books sought to humanize their baddies, though. We understand the emotions that twist women like Hera (by George O’Connor), The Marquess (in Valente’s The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making), and The Dowager Governess (in Colin Meloy’s Wildwood). By the way, what is up with the titles this year? Countess, Marquess, Dowager Governess. Basically if a woman has an “ess” in her name and you’re in a fantasy, run for the hills.
- The final Harry Potter books turned quite dark, and that shocked some folks at the time. Now darkness is sort of taken for granted. Horror fantasy has been popular with teens for years, but I’ve noticed a bit of a proliferation when it comes to horror fantasy for kids. So it is that books like Juniper Berr
Peter Nimble and His Fantastic Eyes
By Jonathan Auxier
Amulet Books (an imprint of Abrams)
$16.95
ISBN: 978-1-4197-0025-5
Ages 9-12
On shelves August 1st.
What is the most telling difference between those works of children’s literature written long ago and those written today? Pose this question to a room full of children’s librarians and I suspect that the answers would be myriad. Books today are less racist. They’re willing to push more boundaries. They’re smarter, hipper, less didactic, and so on and such. Pose the question to a room full of kids now. What do they answer? Would they even know where to begin? I wonder since the memorable children’s books of the past, the ones that we hold in our hearts and pass along from generation to generation have a quality that most children’s books today don’t bother to cultivate: timelessness. Of course there are as many bad books for kids that try to reach that golden goal as there are good ones. It is incredibly difficult to write a book for the youth of today that is interesting to them and yet manages to feel “timeless” without covering itself in must and dust. That Peter Nimble and His Fantastic Eyes succeeds in this endeavor is a testament not only to its author but to a publishing world that’s willing to put out something that doesn’t slot into the usual five categories of books for youth.
Babies found floating in baskets usually turn out quite well. They get adopted by pharaohs’ daughters and the like, right? Well, that may be the case for some babies, but Peter Nimble isn’t exactly the lucky sort. Found floating in the sea, his eyes pecked out (presumably by the raven perched there), Peter is abandoned to the wilds of the world. On his own he manages to use his talents to become the world’s greatest thief. This talent is swiftly exploited by the nasty Mr. Seamus who makes Peter steal for him. All seems bleak until the day Peter stops to listen to a crazy haberdasher who has come to town. Next thing he knows, Peter has pilfered a box containing three pairs of magical eyes and in accepting them he allows himself to take part in a marvelous, epic adventure.
A difficulty with writing a story from the perspective of a blind protagonist is that you’re limited to that person’s senses. Or rather, you would be if the book was first person. Auxier sets his tale in the third, leaving the reader to decide whether or not the book should be this deftly described. We’re still with Peter every step of the way, after all. So is it fair that the text should show such a visual world when that is not Peter’s experience? I don’t find it much of a problem myself, though I can see how some folks would deem it strange. Yet the third person narration is the key here. It’s not even particularly intrusive.
The book is also dotted with small pen-and-ink illustrations throughout the text (created by the author himself, no less) that serve to show a bit of what is described to Peter. It is interesting to see what Auxier chooses to show and not to show. For example, the kitten/horse/knight that is his companion Sir Tode is never fully seen in any of the pictures in this book except for the odd rear view. So it is that Auxier uses his art to give readers just a hint of the story. He leaves most of the characters and situations up to child imaginations, though.
He also has his influences. Jonathan Auxier doesn’t love
0 Comments on Review of the Day: Peter Nimble and His Fantastic Eyes by Jonathan Auxier as of 1/1/1900
I agree that this is a lovely book!
But gee– the Green Man in Season of Secrets might not be a powerful character at the beginning of the story, but he’s never cuddly, and since roles are reversed at the end, and he becomes the powerful one, it’s hardly fair to say he’s Mister Tumnus-esque!
Possible spoilers. I was a very literal kid, but I loved metaphor and allegory. But then, as now, I wouldn’t have been enthusiastic about this book. It would have confused me. Keeping the monster’s reality so ambiguous annoyed me because if the monster is a manifestation of the boy’s imagination, how could a boy that age be so mature, knowing and self-aware of his psychological turmoil that he creates a monster who becomes his therapist? (Having experienced the sudden deaths of both parents, I know something of what the boy was going through). If the monster is real, and its reality is hinted at with the leaves left in the boy’s room, the magic that repairs houses and keeps others from seeing and hearing the monster is pretty damn powerful. The seemingly intentional gray area doesn’t work for me. For me, the father was a shallow stereotype, a device. It’s a good book, and the illustrations make me think of the surreal art often seen in books in the 70s, but for me it just tries too hard to be mysterious and deep. On the subjects of death and guilt, I prefer Marion Dane Bauer’s “On My Honor.”
No, I’m afraid I found the Nicholls Green Man very cuddly indeed. The reversal helped but I still came away with that feeling. That may be purely personal, though.
Interesting point about the monster’s gray area. Oddly enough, I read the monster as real from page one onward. I’m certain that it is a metaphor but I didn’t enjoy it that way. I enjoyed it as a kid would with a great big terrible monster taking a personal interest in a child’s life. But I concede the point about the father.
“I don’t mind metaphors as much as I might. I think that generally I’m supposed to hate them when they show up in children’s literature.”
Why? (Can we talk about this?)
Well, there’s metaphor and then there’s metaphor. Maybe it’s allegories I have more of a problem with. The problem with metaphor is that the book hinges on how well it’s done. A poorly done metaphor sinks a book faster than anything, and wears down the reader to boot. A good metaphor, when done well, sings. It’s like rhyming picture books. As a rule they’re awful unless, of course, they’re brilliant.
For me the bully was the most interesting part of the story. He was the only character to do the unexpected or have any fun. Connor and his family were such a bore I would have much rather read a story from the bully’s persective.
You question who the audience is for A MONSTER CALLS and I don’t think it is for teenagers or kids but instead for parents. I tried to think about what kid/teen i might recommend this to and couldn’t come up with a single name. I did however think of a ton of adults who I thought would really enjoy it.
Bravo on writing such a coherent and excellent review. I think I wrote mine too close finishing it and it was rather muddled as a result.
Like you I didn’t spend a lot of time trying to figure out the metaphors and just went along for the ride. I agree that Ness did a remarkable job dealing with the inner fears and personal blame one might feel and that it might help many people who have experienced this. I can see it having the opposite effect as well though. I think this is one of those books that it is impossible to categorize by age (which is frustrating for those of us who enjoy categorizing things).