The Sherwood Ring, by Elizabeth Marie Pope, for Timeslip Tuesday

The Sherwood Ring, by Elizabeth Marie Pope (1958), is one I wavered about ever putting in the "time slip" category, because "ghost story" fits it just as well. But the particular ghosts in this story aren't exactly haunting the old house in upstate New York, in apparitionly way. They are more like family members, dropping in from the past to visit with newcomers, with whom they converse like ordinary people, and, like good time travellers, they aren't their dead selves (ie, they appear as their younger selves). And since they are in fact family members, with strong attachments to the place, and some natural interest in their kinfolk, why not think of them as sliping forward in time? So I did.

The kinfolk in question is newly orphaned Peggy Grahame, come to live with her uncle Enos, whose a recluse obsessed with the family history. So territorial is he, intellectually, that he forbids Pat, a young British scholar (also interested in the doings of the Grahame family in years gone by) to ever darken his doors. Since Peggy and Pat had become friends on their journey to New York, and since there is absolutely no one else for Peggy to be friends with, this is a blow to her.

Fortunately, there are other someones--a cast of characters from the Revolutionary War era, who visit Peggy and tell her their stories.

Now, when I realized this is what was happening, I was very doubtful. The stories that Peggy is told are separate narratives, and at first I thought I was going to be presented with a pastiche of "stories from history," thinly tied to Peggy's own story (which I was very interested in--orphan, old house, romance, all that). I didn't want to be taken away from it.

But then, when I realized that the visitors were all actors in a very romantic, very exciting drama, and when one of them in particular started reminding me very much of the Scarlet Pimpernel, I was hooked by their interconnected story of torn loyalties, espionage, daring deeds, and other Revolutionary War reindeer games. In short, it turned out to be a great read--really fun historical fiction, with romance of that nice grin-making kind (as opposed to introspective-angsty type of romance, if you know what I mean?) in both past and present.

Note on age--I would have loved this when I was nine or so, and enjoyed it last month. So there you go. I am not surprised, though, that I didn't read it when I was young; it has had bad luck with covers (two others shown below), and American History didn't appeal to snooty little Anglophile me. My loss.

Peaceweaver, by Rebecca Barnhouse

Peaceweaver, by Rebecca Barnhouse (Random House, 2012, middle grade/YA, 336 pages)

At the end of The Coming of the Dragon, a retelling of the story of Beowulf, a new character was introduced --Hild, a high-ranking girl from a neighboring kingdom, sent to be the bride to the new king of the Geats, hopefully weaving peace as a consequence of her marriage. Even though Hild had very little page time indeed, she was an incredibly compelling character, and I know I'm not alone in putting down that book with a desperate need to find out more of her story.

Happily, the author obliged--Peaceweaver is Hild's story.

Hild was an honored member of her community. She was the new mead bearer the hall of her uncle, the King of Shylfings, secure in her position, and determined to use her influence to foster peace between all the various small kingdoms of her part of Dark Age northern Europe.

But then a few hours of playful sword practice with her younger cousin, the king's son, goes horribly wrong. Possessed by a supernatural force, Hild drives her sword into a visiting warrior from another kingdom--somehow she knew that he was about to murder her cousin. Now Hild is persona non grata, isolated in small cell, waiting for her fate to be decided by her uncle, and the poisonous, war-hungry bard who has his ear.

When emissaries of the Geats, Beowulf's people, come seeking peace, Hild is sent away with them, to be a Peaceweaver through marriage between the two kingdoms. But Hild knows that she is to become a living lie--her uncle has no intention of letting the peace last.

In the course of her journey to the kingdom of the Geats, Hild must decided who, and what, she will be. But she must also come to terms with the supernatural gift that seizes hold of her when there is danger...and there is danger aplenty on the road to her new home. For Grendal and his mother, of Beowulf fame, are not the only such monsters...

And then finally we get to see Rune (from The Coming of the Dragon). I, for one, loved him already....but will Hild????? And then after that, all too soon, the book ends....Now that we have the backstory for both Rune and Hild, please let there be a third book about the both of them!!!

Peaceweaver, like The Coming of the Dragon, is absolutely top notch historical fantasy. The fantastical elements (the monsters, the intervention of deities, Hild's strange gift) don't in the least make the book feel less plausible, less truly set in the dark ages of Europe; the world-building happens organically and convincingly, with lots of details woven into the story, and not just flat-out told. Rebecca Barnhouse has proven herself to be an author of historical fiction who I feel I can read with the relaxed confidence that comes from trusting that no nasty little anachronistic bits are going to kick me out of the story.

Hild is a most excellent character. From the beginning of the book, she is sympathetic, but she grows up during the course of events, become more thoughtful about her world and her place in it. For instance, she's forced to question somewhat her assumptions about the slavery that's part of her culture--and although she doesn't repudiate it on moral grounds, which would be ridiculously anachronistic, she does have a moment of truth in which she realizes that there is more to the lives of those who are enslaved than their service to their captors.

She's a strong character, in that she isn't afraid to act, but her abilities don't strain credulity--she knows how to use a sword (that scene on the cover really happens), but she's no Valkyrie. Likewise, she wants to do the right thing, but she's no holier than thou, unselfish martyr about it, and she also wants for things to work out nicely for herself!

Peaceweaver can perfectly well be read on its own, but since it includes spoilers for The Coming of the Dragon, that one really should be read first. That being said, I think Peaceweaver is the more statisfying of the two in its pacing and its plot...

Note on age of reader: Hild is 16, so "young adult," but there's nothing in her story that makes it unsuitable for young readers. I'd be happy to hand this to a ten year old (which I see the publisher thinks too!). There's a bit of violent death here and there, but not so violent as to be traumatic. The arc of the story--happy young person's life is disrupted, a journey must be made and a fate chosen--is more, to me, a "middle grade" story than a "young adult" one. But boy, do I ever want the young adult story of what happens next!

Here are other reviews, at The Book Smugglers, and at Random Musings of a Bilbiophile.

And here's an interview with Rebecca Barnhouse at The Enchanted Inkpot.

(disclaimer: review copy very gratefully (there might have been a squee) received from the publisher)

In Darkness, by Nick Lake, for Timeslip Tuesday

I read In Darkness, by Nick Lake (Bloomsbury, 2012, YA), in short bits over the course of several months. My lack of absobtion came not from the quality of the writing, or the intensity of the story, because both were there; rather, the story itself is so dark that I couldn't bear to lose myself in it.

It tells of the harrowing days that "Shorty," a Haitian boy, spends trapped in the ruins of a hospital after the earthquake of 2010 sends his world crashing into ruins. Trapped in the darkness, with the constant torture of thirst and hunger and pain, he hopes against hope for rescue.  All the while he is haunted by memories of violence, and loss, and choices that went wrong.
But Shorty isn't entirely alone in his prison. Half of his spirit has travelled backwards to the past, to join with the spirit of one of the great heroes of his country--his ancestor, the slave Toussaint L'Ouverture, who became the leader of the revolution at the end of the 18th century that feed the slaves and drove out the invading British. Toussaint dreams of Shorty...and Shorty of Toussaint, as each relives their lives up to the point where the darkness came.

For Toussaint's story didn't end in light and hope, and Shorty fears that his, too, will end with in the darkness.
The stories of the two protagonists are clear and distinct, Shorty's told in the first person, and Toussaint's in the third. Their spirits may overlap, and Toussaint in particular has real glimpses of Shorty's present, and magically learns to read via their contact, but there's no time travel in tangible form. Toussaint might feel the presence of Shorty, but Shorty seems much less aware of him--I kept waiting for this awareness to happen, but it never quite reached that point. Still, the connection between the two is fundamental (in a somewhat vague way that I never quite grasped--I think I would have to read it straight through more clearly and coldly to fully comprehend it) to the struggle against the darkness that both face. At the end, however, it is the travel of Toussaint's spirit from the past that gives Shorty the strength to make a last effort.

Both stories are dark. Toussaint's is the less crushingly awful story--for a time, there is hope that he has managed to achieve his dream of a free country for free men. It reads like harrowing historical fiction. Shorty's story, on the other hand, is immediate and painful. For Shorty, a life of utter poverty, where squalor and hopelessness are unremarkable realities, has left little room for hope; his time as a violent member of a drug gang was not happy reading. Yet still he hopes to escape from the destruction of the earthquake.

But I am left not at all hopeful that anything has changed for the better, that this experience of souls meeting over the centuries will actually change anything enough for Shorty's life to materially improve. Yes, he learns to regret the path he took, and emerges with a rekindled love for this mother, but I don't know that that will be enough. Toussaint himself, after all, could not, in the end, fight the darkness that overcame his country and himself.

Still, it's a powerful book, and a memorable one. It doesn't flinch from graphic violence, and so it convinces in a way that sugar-coating reality would not have done.

(disclaimer: review copy received from the publisher)

The Haunting of Nathaniel Wolfe, by Brian Keaney

The Haunting of Nathaniel Wolfe, by Brian Keaney (Hodder & Stoughton, April 1, 2012, middle grade, 240 pages).

On a smoky, foggy, fetid March evening in Victorian London, young Nathaniel is engaged in his usual occupation--selling tickets to his father's show, one that promises that the dead will speak from beyond the grave. The audience is desperate to receive news of their departed loved ones (or not so loved ones), but Nathaniel knows it's all trickery. But even though his father spends the bulk of the money drinking, at least it keeps a roof over their heads....

But then the unexpected happens.

"Up there on the stage beside his father was a shadow, a shape, blurred at first but becoming clearer with every passing moment until finally he was looking at the figure of a woman, dressed in a long white robe. Her eyes were the palest blue and they were fixed directly on him. With every fibre of his being he knew her for what she was: a ghost."

And so Nathaniel finds himself unwilling drawn into a dark mystery as he tries to find out just what this ghost wants....and how she died.

He's not alone in his quest--a new friend named Lily, a plucky servant girl, has her own part to play in solving the mystery. But as Lily and Nathaniel come closer to figuring out what happened to the dead woman, their own lives become at risk. Murderers don't always stop at just one victim....

This was a very satisfying murder mystery for young readers--I guessed a key aspect of the plot early (because of having read the right Dorothy Sayers) but that didn't keep me from being enthralled by Nathaniel and Lily's adventures. Although my credulity was a tad stretched toward the end, when Queen Victoria made an appearance, the mystery itself unfolded very nicely, and I was quite anxious on behalf of Nathaniel and Lily. Nathaniel in particular is a character for whom I found it easy to care--his life is of neglect and poverty, yet he manages to keep going bravely (without being annoyingly Plucky) .

The book might perhaps be hard sell for young readers who aren't drawn to historical fiction, but once the ghost starts haunting Nathaniel in earnest, the pace picks up. I think it's one where the cover will do a good job of sorting out the readers who will like it from those that won't, in as much at it's a cover of historical, spooky atmosphere, as opposed to a cover of Exciting Adventure. It's certainly one to offer any kid looking for a good ghost story, and I'd recommend it in particular to fans of Avi's historical fiction, or perhaps, moving in the other direction, to readers of The Wolves of Whilloughby Chase, by Joan Aiken, who found the farcical fun of that book a bit over the top, but enjoyed the historical mystery.

Here's another review, at Serendipity Reviews

(disclaimer: review copy received from the publisher)

Scarlet, by A.C. Gaughen

Scarlet, by A.C. Gaughen (Bloomsbury 2012, YA, 304 pages)

When Robin of Locksley returned from the crusades, he found his lands taken from him, and his people oppressed by the cruel taxes of the Sheriff of Nottingham. Determined to help them, he, along with the three companions that form his band of outlaws, poach and steal to feed the common folk, and rescue those who run afoul of the sheriff. One of these companions, the best thief of them all, and a crack hand with a knife, is the handsome Will Scarlet. But Scarlet is no boy--she's a girl running from a dark past, who has found, in Robin's somewhat quixotic mission, a way to atone for the guilt that oppresses her.

But Guy of Guisborne, the most feared thief taker in the land, has come to Nottingham. It is Scarlet, not Robin Hood, that he is most interested in. The danger to the people of Nottingham, meaningless pawns to the cruelty of the thief taker, grows daily. And Scarlet and Robin, himself burdened by guilt, find themselves drawn unwillingly to each other, while desperately waging a their war against injustice.

It's a swingingly fast story, with lots of interesting revelations doled out as things progress. Scarlet and Robin are both fascinating characters, and it was hard to put the book down, as I anxiously turned the pages, hoping that somehow there would be a happy ending. But sadly, even though I read it in virtually a single sitting, it didn't quite work for me.

As historical fiction, it required a very conscious effort on my part to suspend disbelief. There were some small, specific things (a character named Freddie, for instance, which is anachronistic), and a larger sense of not being in a convincing medieval England. I was particularly thrown by Scarlet's narration, which is in quasi olde English common-folk speak. The author's intent is to show her as a commoner, and so Scarlet eschews "was" in favour of "were," as in, "it were a long way" and "he were old," which makes me think of stereotypical Lancashire farmers, not the medieval commoners of central England. But I made an effort not to mind, and gradually came to accpet the fact that this is was a fictional England and I shouldn't try to read it as anything else.

It was harder for me to overcome my discomfort about the relationship between Scarlet and Robin. Both are damaged people, who think they are unworthy of love, and so they each do their best to make sure the other won't love them, by being cruel. "Hurting you," says Robin, "is the best way I know to punish myself." (page 285 of ARC), which bothered me all the more because of being part of the big reconciliation scene. It kind of took the fun out of the romance.

Complicating things further is the romantic subplot involving Little John, who wants Scarlet for himself. He pressures her considerably, deliberately taking her feelings of friendly camaraderie, and her loneliness, for an invitation that she's not giving. And Robin blames Scarlet for encouraging him, after assuming, based on circumstantial evidence, that they've been sleeping together. It's a horrible position for Scarlet to be in.

Not only does Robin blame Scarlet for the situation with Little John, toward the end of the book he seems to blame her for the whole situation with Guy of Gisborne, and, being hard on herself, Scarlet is ready to accept this.

I ended up being very annoyed with the lot of them, and not entirely convinced that they were making things any better for anyone in Nottingham.

Other thoughts: Dear Author, YA Muses, Book Harbinger, Angieville, and Pretty in Fiction

(disclaimer: ARC received from the publisher)

Lavinia, by Ursula K. Le Guin

Lavinia, by Ursula K. Le Guin, has been sitting in my to-be-read pile ever since it was published, way back in 2008 (eep!). But, as of 1:00 pm, I can now say I have read all of her novels...and I can finally put Lavinia in her place on the special shelf of Le Guin books (shown here--front and center, at eye level; Le Guin is actually occupying two shelves, and there actually isn't space for another book, but there it is.).

Lavinia, a Bronze Age princess of a small Italian kingdom, appears at the end of Vergil's epic poem, the Aeneid. When Aeneas, after years of wandering, finally arrives in the place where he plans to found a new homeland for his band of exiles, Lavinia gets to watch her countrymen and the Trojans kill each other, with her hand in marriage as the prize to the victor. After much bloodshed, she gets to marry Aeneas. What she doesn't get, in Vergil's poem, is much screen time. And Ursula Le Guin, coming late in life to the Aeneid, was struck by this, and decided to give Lavinia a voice.

From a Kirkus interivew quoted here: “In the Aeneid, Lavinia is a mere convention, the blond maiden, a background figure barely sketched. Yet this is the woman the hero is commanded by the gods to marry. She so evidently has a voice, and Vergil knew how to listen to women; but he didn’t have time to listen to her. He’s in the war part of his story and has to get all the battles fought. So all Lavinia gets to do is blush. I felt it was time she got to tell her view of things. Inevitably this is also an interpretation of the hero’s story, in which I think Vergil shows the price of public triumph as personal tragedy."

Lavina is the autobiographical reflections of a character who knows that her existence is contingent (as she puts it) on her place in Vergil's poem. But, as she makes clear to the reader, there is more to her than is found in his words. She tells of her girlhood, running free in the woods, of her family, and the local people--small things of no great import, except to the people involved. She tells of her discomfort with being courted, and the distasteful thought of being married off, and being moved away from her place in the world. And then she tells of the arrival of Aeneas....and the blood that spilled, and the city that was built, and the love that she had for him.

Much of the book reads as straight historical fiction, the good type, that explores gender, and religion, and power, and how people make themselves who they are (Le Guin is especially good at the last in general, and does a particularly fine job with it here!). Although I enjoyed these aspects of the story, and although I liked the first part, about Lavinia as a girl, quite a lot, there were, quite frankly, too many people killed in the middle of the book (blame Vergil). I skimmed this part, and wish Le Guin had too, even though the dispassionate side of my brain realizes that the bloodshed is an integral part of the characters' story....

Here's what she said about that aspect of the Aenead, in a 2009 Time interview: "It’s pretty gross in the Aeneid. It’s ugly. And that too struck me as part of what the book is about. I think Vergil wrote that book partly to tell Augustus, OK, you made it, you won, you’re on top. This is the cost of winning, of getting on top. Enough is enough. I see it as kind of an anti-war story. Vergil doesn’t enjoy battles the way Homer does." And nor does Aeneas, which is why he is a hero so much easier to care about than any of Homer's!

Lavinia (the book) is more, however, then the simply telling of the life of Lavina (the woman) in her historical context. Alongside that story, Le Guin explores Lavinia's understanding of herself as a creation of Vergil's writing. Few characters get to meet their creator; Lavinia, however, meets Vergil's spirit quite early in the book--she hears his doubts, and regrets, and learns more than she might want to know about her future, and her own actions and emotions are tempered by this. It adds a rather poignant, meditative note to the book, and it left me with an aching empathy not just for Lavinia, but for all who try to be their true selves, and for all those whose powerful, beautiful stories have been lost to master narratives. (At least that's what I think I was feeling).

It was not the death of Aeneas that made my eyes briefly blurry, but this passage at the end of the book--

"I was fated, it seems, to live among people who suffered beyond measure from grief, who were driven made by it. Though I suffered grief, I was doomed to sanity. this was no doing of the poet's. I know that he gave me nothing but modest blushes, and no character at all. I know that he said I raved and tore my golden tresses at my mother's death. He simply was not paying attention: I was silent then, tearless, and only intent on making her poor soiled body decent. And my hair has always been dark. In truth he gave me nothing but a name, and I have filled it with myself. Yet without him would I even have a name? I have never blamed him. Even a poet cannot get everything right." (p 263).

In any event. If you are a fan of Le Guin's fantasy and science fiction, you might be disappointed--it's not much like her other books. Except that it is, in its thoughtful, graceful exploration of what it means to be a person, like so much else that she has written.

You can find lots of links to other, more detailed, reviews of Lavinia and interviews with Le Guin here at her website.

The Aviary, by Kathleen O'Dell

The Aviary, by Kathleen O'Dell (Knopf 2011, middle grade, 352 pages), takes place in that best of settings (as far as I'm concerned)--a mysterious old house, full of old treasures...The Glenodoveer mansion was once a happy family home, but now eleven year old Clara is the only child wandering its rooms. She is the daughter of the housekeeper, who keeps a close and loving eye on her, making sure that Clara never over exerts her weak heart, never allowing her to have friends, or go beyond the grounds of the old house. And this being the late 19th century (or possibly the early 20th), social services never comes calling to check on this odd situation....

Old Mrs. Glendoveer has been Clara's friend and teacher, but now she is dying. Her thoughts are fixed on the five birds who have lived in the aviary outside ever since her husband, a famous stage magician, passed away thirty years before--and Clara, though she finds the birds frightening, honors her friend's wishes that the birds be cared for after her death.

These are not just any birds. As Clara is forced to become more familiar with them, she begins to uncover the dark mystery of the Glendoveer family. What happened to the six Glendoveer children, lost many, many years ago? Why does Clara's mother keep her so closely confined to the house? And is it possible that old Mr. Glendoveer's magic was actually....real?

With the help of a new friend, a new girl in town, whom Clara must sneak past her mother to met, the mystery is gradually unravelled...but in solving the mystery, Clara brings new danger both to the Glendoveer house, and to the strange, mysterious birds.

The mystery is fairly straightforward--I guessed all the key points, which is rare for me! But that doesn't mean it wasn't engrossing. Tons of atmosphere, a touch of horror, and the slow realization on Clara's part that magic is at work combine for a great read. The birds are fantastic characters in their own right, and their story is a gripping one, with a twist of magic of a sort I've never encountered before.

Clara's gradually awakening to the fact that she is being kept a virtual prisoner is very nicely done--although she feels compelled to deceive her mother, their loving relationship is not destroyed. Her actions force her mother to become more truthful with her, and in return Clara becomes more honest with her mother (although still keeping secrets!). It would have been easy to make the mother an unsympathetic character, but O'Dell thankfully avoids this.

The Aviary has a classic, old-fashioned feel to it, and I think it will appeal lots to the young reader who has no interest yet in paranormal romance (and to adult readers of children's fantasy like myself!). The reader who finds the cover intriguing will almost certainly enjoy it. My only reservation with the book is nothing to do with the plot, but rather one of mechanics--there are several letters in cursive sprinkled through the story. These might prove stumbling blocks to today's cursively-challenged child (I'm pretty sure my own 11 year old would have a hard time reading a few of them). So this is definitely one to give to the young reader confident enough to tackle a bit of difficult reading, or at least confident enough to pick up the key bits of information and more on!

(read for the Cybils Awards)

The Inquisitor's Apprentice, by Chris Moriarty

The Inquisitor's Apprentice, by Chris Moriarty (Harcourt Children's Books, 2011, upper middle grade)

In an alternate late 19th-century New York, the tenements are packed with magic-using immigrants, each ethnic group with its own flavour of spellworking. 13 year old Sacha has grown up in a Jewish neighborhood taking the local magic for granted--like Mrs. Lassky's bakery, where customers can buy a mother-in-latke ("you pick the perfect son-in-law, we do the rest!") or "deliciously efficacious knishes....guaranteed to get any girl married within the year."

But in Sacha's New York, practicing magic is against the law--the wealthy few make no profit from what they can't control. And so the NYPD includes Inquisitors--policemen whose job it is to solve magical crimes. When Sacha reveals that he can see it when people work magic, Inspector Wolf takes him on as an apprentice Inquisitor.

Now Sacha and fellow apprentice Lily Astral (of the fabulously wealthy Astral family), are following Wolf through the city as he tries to solve what could be his most important case yet. Someone is trying to kill Thomas Edison....and there are even darker machinations at work, as capitalism and magic clash!

I utterly loved Moriarty's magical New York, the best magical New York I've ever read. I loved the details of how each ethnic group has its own brand of magic, I loved the fun Moriarty had with her rich families (John Pierpont Morgan becomes J.P. Morgaunt, owner of the Pentacle Shirtwaist Factory), and Andrew Carbuncle write a best-selling memoir, Wealth Without Magic. And I loved seeing Teddy Roosevelt, Thomas Edison, and Harry Houdini in this strange setting!

I adored Inspector Wolf. He reminded me a bit of Lord Peter Whimsey, crossed with Howl, with a dash of Eugenides, mainly because he is very, very good at not revealing all that is going on inside his brilliant mind. Although, looking back at his description, none of them (especially Lord Peter) would be as sloppy:

".... he seemed to go to great lengths to be as unglamorous and unmagical as possible. His long, lanky legs were encased in baggy trousers that had never seen the inside of a tailor's shop, let alone a fitting spell. His jacket hung off his bony shoulder like a scarecrow's sack. His hair looked like it hadn't been brushed for weeks. His spectacles were covered with smudges and fingerprints. And his dishwater-gray eyes wore a sleepy, absentminded look that seemed to say Wolf was still waiting for the day to bring him something worth waking up for.

As far as Sacha could tell, the only remotely interesting thing about Maximillian Wolf was the extraordinary collection of food stains on his tie."

I also enjoyed the unlikely friendship that grew (slowly, and with difficulty) between Sacha and Lily. Part of the difficulty comes from the vast difference in their social status, and this is just one of many ways in which Moriarty brings themes of religion, class, immigration, and prejudice into her story telling. These issues simultaneously drive the plot and give depth to the characters and their actions. With its subtext of social justice and its New York setting, this would make a great book for the fan of mg sff to read while Occupying Wall Street. (In fact, I just learned, after typing that, that someone sent the Occupy Wall Street library four copies!).

So The Inquisitor's Apprentice got top marks, as far as I'm concerned, for world-building and character. It is, however, perhaps not for everyone. Some might find that the pace of the book is slowed down by the information given to the reader, and that the action and adventure of the story are not sufficiently front and center. I'm also not sure that a young reader will enjoy this one quite as much as the reader who actually knows something about turn of the century New York...much of the entertainment came from enjoying Moriarty's many little twists.

That being said, I personally enjoyed it tremendously (laugh out loud enjoyment, alongside some genuinely poignant moments, including one that still makes me teary eyed*), and want more about Inspector Wolf please!

Looking for other reviews to link to, I found Cory Doctorow's at Boing Boing, where he mentiones the period-style black and white illustrations. It came as a surprise to me that there were illustrations. I was too busy reading to notice them.

Other glowing reviews at Book Aunt and BooksForKidsBlog, and a rave review from a ten year old at Fresh Ink

And here's an interview with Morarty at The Enchanted Inkpot


*for those who have read the book--it's the bit about the coat with the money sewn into it.

(disclaimer: ARC received at BEA)

Icefall, by Matthew Kirby

Icefall, by Matthew Kirby (Scholastic, October 2011, middle grade, 336 pages)

When is historical fiction fantasy? In reading well-written historical fantasy, sometimes the beliefs of the characters in magic, strange gods, prophetic dreams, and seemingly supernatural powers, make it seem as though all those things are real. And this, coupled with a setting that is strange and a culture that is alien, can make a book feel like fantasy.

This is what happened to me when I read Icefall, the gripping tale of Solveig, a Viking girl sent with her siblings (an older sister and a younger brother) and a handful of retainers to an isolated holding far in the north, to keep them safe while their father wages war. As the book begins, this small group is waiting for the promised supply ship that will bring them food for the long winter to come. When the ship does arrive, it carries (along with food) a contingent of berserkers--their father is clearly worried for their saftey.

In the dark and crowded wooden hall, boredom gives way to unbearable tension when it becomes clear that somewhere nearby, perhaps in the hall itself, there is a traitor, working to sabotage the group's chances of survival. But along with the berserkers came a skald, lifting the spirits of those trapped until the thaw begins in spring. And Solveig finds that she herself has a gift for telling stories...one that she will be forced to use when treachery is compounded by the arrival of her father's enemy, come to claim her older sister as his bride.

It is a most utterly gripping story, with the tension growing beautiful toward an edge-of-your-seat conclusion. Solveig's path toward becoming a skald, and finding her place in the world through her own talents, is in itself a fascinating story, and that, when coupled with the dangers faced by her small community, made this book one of my favorites of the year.

More, perhaps, could have been made of Solveig's older sister, who is essentially absent as a character during the long winter, but balancing that quibble out was the delight of watching Solveig tame a young raven (ravens are everywhere this year), and watching her interactions with the other characters change over the course of their time together.

Getting back to the question of whether this is fantasy or not--Solveig's prophetic dream has a hugely consequential impact on the course of events, but otherwise there is nothing that could not have been real (the berserkers, for instance, do go berserk, but they are supposed to in real life....). Yet this is a book that will delight fans of historical fantasy. I don't care as a reader, but I'm wondering in which category this will end up in over at the Cybils Awards. It was first nominated (by Betsy over at Fuse #8, who knows her stuff) as straight middle grade, but now its over in middle grade sci fi/fantasy. And I think, even though very little is "fantastical", it might feel more at home there, and attract the readers who will appreciate it most.

I'd give this one in a heartbeat to any eleven year old girl reader of fantasy and adventure stories, or boy, for that matter.

Just as an aside--I was curious about how many female skalds (if any) there really were, so of course I started googling. And I found a book that has me full of want--Old Norse Women's Poetry: the Voices of Female Skalds. Not only does it include the poetry of nine women known to history, but, among other tantalizing categories, there are apparently 7 poems attributed to troll-maidens. I am tremendously intrigued.

(disclaimer: review copy received from the publisher)

The Wicked Enchantment, by Margot Benary-Isbert

One of the pleasures of moving to my current house (12 years ago--yoiks. Why is there still so much to be done?) was exploring the library four doors down. A new library is always an exciting thing, and this one was especially so to a devotee of older children's books like myself. It hadn't had a children's librarian weeding the collection since, at a guess, the late 1970s, and so was chock full of vintage books.

As a result, I met an author who became a favorite of mine--Margot Benary-Isbert. Her book about German children in the aftermath of WW II, The Ark, is brilliant. I happily read all the books my library had of hers, and snapped up the ones that got deaccessioned once we had a new (and most excellent) children's librarian in place. And I put the books of hers the library didn't have on my Christmas present list. 8 years later, and I had all but one--no-one had managed to find me a copy of The Wicked Enchantment....and I had pretty much forgotten about it.

But then The Enchanted Inkpot had a feature on "Little Known Fantasy Gems," and Kate Coombs of Book Aunt picked The Wicked Enchantment as her gem. And I had the brilliant thought that some other library in the state might have it and lo! one did, and now I have read it.

Here's what it's about:

Vogelsand is proud of its famous medieval cathedral, even though its inhabitants know that their cathedral is the reason why strange goings on, of a spooky sort, are apt to happen in their town...When the statue of a Foolish Virgin, along with one of the more horrible gargoyles, disappear from their accustomed place, strange things begin to happen with a vengeance! The new mayor is wrecking all sorts of havoc (snaring the song birds! forbidding the sale of Easter eggs!). And young Anemone, and her dog Winnie, are driven from their (formerly) happy home by the invasion of a scheming new housekeeper and her horrible son.

Fortunately, Anemone and Winnie find refuge with a wise woman named Gundula, who not only has supremely intelligent pets of her own, but also is the best Easter egg painter for miles around. But the housekeeper's son is bent on tracking her down for sinister reasons, and has enlisted gangs of boys to join the hunt, and money is tight in Gundula's household....and the mayor seems more unhinged and evil every day.

Winnie's talents lead her to employment in the circus that has come to town (solving the money problem), and Anemone's pluck and cunning makes her more than a match for her adversaries. Together, Anemone, Gundula, and the animals work together to find the explanation for the magical evil that has invaded Voglesand--and to overthrow it, winning freedom for the songbirds and the rights of the people to their Easter eggs!

If you are in the mood for a lightly old-fashioned fantasy of colorful brightness and charm, this would be one to try. It's not all that Deep or Haunting, but it is fun. The German setting makes it a pleasant change from the ubiquitous British Isles, and Benary-Isbert has a lovely way with descriptions and setting.

I'd especially recommend it to a dog person--Winnie gets a lot of page time. I myself liked, but didn't love it--I think I would have loved it more when I was young. In short, I'm going to take it off my Christmas present list now that I've read it, but I will still be keeping my eyes open for it. It got republished as a paperback in 1986 (that's the cover at right), but I want to hold out for the original edition, illustrated by Enrico Arno in a nicey detailed black-and-white way.

That being said, there are lots of people who love this book, as well as the reviews at Amazon and Goodreads (where I found that Sherwood Smith loved it when she was a child), here's another at MatriFocus.

Blood Secret, by Kathryn Lasky, for Timeslip Tuesday

Blood Secret, by Kathryn Lasky (Harper Teen, 2006, YA, 304 pages)

Jerry spent her childhood following her carefree mother from one music festival to the next...lying alone at night while her mother "visited" other campers. But when she was eight, her mother failed to come back to her, and she was found wandering alone on the edge of the campground. But Jerry couldn't give the police any useful information--she had stopped talking.

Forward a few years. Jerry is now 14, and a relative has been tracked down--an old aunt in New Mexico. Constanza has lived alone for years, a peaceful life supporting herself through her baking business. In the peace of her aunt's home, Jerry begins to speak again....and she discovers, alongside her own voice, the hidden voices of her ancestors when she opens the old trunk stashed away in the basement.

The things she finds--the ancient piece of bloodstained lace, the old letters, the battered doll--take her back as a witness to the persecution of centuries of her family. For Jerry's family were Spanish Jews, forced to hide their religion, and convert to Christianity or die during centuries of brutal cruelty. As Jerry lives fragments of their lives, she sees them tortured, exiled, and killed, yet still holding on to what they can of Judaism despite it all.

By the end of the book, her aunt Constanza is taking part in the timeslip as well, and the story ends with Constanza and Jerry reclaiming their Jewish heritage--the secrets of the past out in the light of day once more.

Jerry's experiences of the past do not involve her as a character at all--they are straight historical fiction, taking the reader from the massacre of 1391 to the repression of Judaism in the Spanish Mexico in the colonial era. These chapters are gripping, and an excellent introduction to an aspect of history not often covered in children's books. The characters are compelling, the details absorbing, and the stories harrowing. However, I didn't particularly care for the section that was told from the perspective of an indigenous Mesoamerican woman, married to a secret Jew--I didn't find Lasky's voice for this woman convincing.

The parallel between Jerry finding her own voice again, and the recovery of the lost stories of her family, is clear, but the focus of the book shifts increasingly to the past, and the modern part of the story becomes completely overshadowed. The ending drives this home--I found it hard to accept that Constanza, an old woman and devout Catholic, could suddenly embrace her long-lost Jewish heritage without batting an eye. I would have appreciated more subtlety here, more of the modern characters in the present working through what they have discovered, instead of being swept up so fully by their magical experiences that they behave in what seemed to me an over-simplified way.

Still, it's a fascinating story, and I'm all in favor of learning about history through well-written fiction, so I'm happy to have read it.

Karma, by Cathy Ostlere

Today and tomorrow I'm taking part in the Spring into Summer readathon, over at Squeaky Books. Today is my first day of summer vacation, but sadly, unlike the happy summers of childhood, there's more than just reading and eating cookies--I have to go into work for a few hours this afternoon.

But still. One reads as much as one can. This morning I began the read-a-thon with Karma, by Cathy Osteler, and have just finished, and my heart is heavy and my eyes a bit teary.

Do not be deceived by the pink cover with the romantic profiles of the boy and girl. This is a dark and heavy book, but mercifully, even in the darkness there is beauty and hope.

Karma is the story of Maya, child of a Hindu mother and a Sikh father, who immigrated to Canada after their forbidden marriage. When her mother commits suicide, she and her father take the urn of ashes back to India, and arrive just in time for the October, 1984, assassination of Indira Gandhi, and the retaliatory killings of thousands of Sikhs. She is separated by her father, and thrown into a nightmare of chaos and death.

But Maya is fated to live. She is taken in by a family in the desert town to which she had randomly fled, and Sandeep, the 17 year old adopted son of that family (a boy who has still not been able to face, or even fully remember, the past horror of his own life), becomes her friend....

Told in the form of diary entries (first by Maya, then by Sandeep, and finally by Maya again), in a free verse form, this is a stunningly, achingly powerful story. It is not for the faint of heart. The brief, lyrical description of the castration of little boys during the bloodbath in New Delhi, for instance, is horrible (and will stick in my mind forever), and it is but one of many horrors.

But the light that Ostlere's beautiful and moving writing brings to this story makes the book worth reading. Hard questions are asked, and sad stories are told, and it is good and important that these things be done, and the stories not be forgotten, and that people think, and care, and try to do better. Ostlere has no easy answers, but the reader is left hopeful that healing is possible.

Side note--in general, I don't care for stories written in free verse format--my eyes skittle too fast over the pages. Here, possibly because the "free verse" was in the form of diary entries, I found it easy to loose myself in the story.

I won this book in a give-away from Niki at Wicked Awesome Books -- here's her review. (Thanks Niki!)

By These Ten Bones, by Clare Dunkle

By These Ten Bones, by Clare Dunkle (Macmillan, first released in 2005, re-issued 2011, YA, 240 pages)

In Maddie's small town in the highlands of Scotland, hundreds of years ago, there is a shortage of men. Clan warfare has hit hard. When a young woodcarver comes to town, silent and mysterious, and incredibly talented, Maddie begins to fall in love for the first time...

But he has brought with him an evil shadow, a bloodthirsty being that seeks to kill on the night of the full moon. And Maddie's town is plunged into horror as it begins to hunt. To save the young man she loves from the nightmare in which he lives, and to save her town, Maddie must make a desperate choice....

This is a tremendously atmospheric story, in which the details of the mundane world are contrasted just beautifully with the fear and horror the creature brings. Likewise, the pagan superstitions of the townsfolk (rather justified, in this case), and their fears of witchcraft, co-exist beautifully with the determination of the parish priest to maintain faith and sanity. And Maddie is a tremendously appealing heroine; her love story is convincing, her courage admirable (and she has likable, supportive parents, which is a nice bonus). Also convincing is the difficult choice she makes...it's not unrealistically easy for her to do what she feels she must.

I am not a fan, myself, of horror qua horror, and neither do I have a great love for paranormal romance. But this book is more than the sum of labels. These elements are crucial, of course, to the plot, and Dunkle's careful buildup of suspense and fear, and the dark shadow that stands between Maddie and her beloved, make the book one that should appeal to fans of either sub-genre (although those looking for, um, passionate romance, as it were, won't find it here). But for me, the main appeal was the historical fiction aspect of it--Dunkle makes this place and its people come to life.

I was gripped by this story, and read it in almost a single sitting.

Other reviews at The Book Smugglers, WORD for Teens, Tempting Persephone, and Rebecca's Book Blog

Bloodline Rising, by Katy Moran

Last March, I was working on my new releases post for the second half of the month, which included Bloodline Rising, by Katy Moran. Every time I post a new releases list, I am, of course, full of book lust. But the description of this book made me do something I almost never, ever do--I wrote directly to the publisher to ask if I could have a review copy. Because, really, what fan of Megan Whalen Turner's books, who is also a fan of Dark Age England, and of historical fiction with magic, could resist this summary:

"The Ghost is the fastest, most cunning young criminal in Constantinople. Skilled at lying and deceit, he has the power to twist the minds of men, bending them to his will. He is both invisible and invincible. Or at least he thinks so - till the day his father returns from the desert. A ruthless barbarian assassin, Essa is not pleased to discover that his wild son Cai has become the city's most notorious thief. But sinister forces are moving against Cai and he finds himself captive on a trading ship. The Ghost no longer, he is now a slave. But luck has not deserted him completely - the ship is bound for Britain, the home his barbarian parents fled, long ago. When he becomes a slave to Wulfhere, prince of Mercia, Cai soon discovers that his Anglish masters know more about his family than he does - what secrets have his mother and father been keeping from him? As Cai sharpens his skills of subterfuge and persuasion, war threatens, and he must choose: will he use his phenomenal talents for good, or evil?"

And then the book arrived (thank you, Candlewick!) and I began to read...and I found it good.

There are two distinct parts of this book--the Constantinople part, and the British part. The Constantinople part features Cai as the brash thief, whose preternatural abilities bring him to the attention of the Lord of the Thieves, and a dangerous mission that could change the course of the Byzantine Empire. This section is utterly sparkling, and I could have happily stayed in Cai's city for a whole book, enjoying his exploits and caught up in the political intrigues of that time and place!

Then (as the summary says) he's captured and sent as a slave to Britain, his parents' homeland. And now the story shifts to the politics and intrigues of the feuding Anglo-Saxon kingdoms. And Cai finds that he, all unknowing, has a place in these politics by virtue of who he is--secrets that have been kept from him all his life emerge to challenge his native cunning. Here in Britain Cai is no longer the brash thief he was when he was just a boy. He's wracked by guilt for what he sees as unforgivable failures back in Constantinople (careful spoiler avoidance here), and uncertain what place he will have in this new world.

But as he grows to manhood he finds that the gifts that stood him in good stead back then have more to them then he had imagined. And the story is now one of loyalty (to whom?), friendship (but who are the friends, and who is the enemy?), and magic....

I confess I have a strong penchant for the first half of the book; I was not quite as sucked in to the Anglo-Saxon England part. In large part, I think this is because of the author's choice to use the first person present--this worked well while Cai was dashing around Constantionable, and there was lots of immediate action, and also worked while he was on the slave ship. In England, when the focus of the story is on Cai's introspective, emotionally-charged efforts to figure out his life, it was less gripping. And because the focus was so strongly on what was going on in Cai's mind, the world of the Anglo-Saxons around him never became quite real to me.

In short, I enjoyed the book, but not quite as much as I had hoped I would.

viz reading age--Cai is 12 at the beginning, 13 at the end. There's some violence, and an unmarried girl gets pregnant (off stage). The book is marketed as YA, but older middle grade kids probably would enjoy this one too.

Between the Forest and the Hills, by Ann Lawrence

Oh, the very great pleasure of discovering the works of an author who wrote books that just perfectly matching one's reading taste! Since I was nine or so, I have loved Ann Lawrence's medieval fantasy Tom Ass, and now I am savoring the other books she wrote, after coming to the belated realization that they existed! The latest of her books to utterly delight me is Between the Forest and the Hills (1977, middle grade, republished in 1999 by Bethlehem Books, and still available).

Imagine, if you will, the book that would result if Angela Thirkell or D.E. Stevenson collaborated with Rosemary Sutcliff to write a book about early Dark Age Britain for children, and they decided to throw in a touch of fantasy. The result would be this book.

The Romans built a fort at Iscium, in eastern Britain, for no obvious reason, but gradually over the years people came, and built houses, and eventually a church, and there it was, a small city. When the Roman empire crumbled, the soldiers remained, training the next generations. Astragolus, the old commander, and his old friend and verbal-sparring partner, Father Malleus, between them provide the civic backbone to keep things going. But when a young Isciumite named Falx finds a lost Saxon girl in the forest outside the town, and brings her home with him, it seems the days of Iscium might be numbered--the Saxons, after all, have a habit of sacking towns.

An enigmatic one-eyed traveller, two talking ravens, and the pluck and resourcefulness of the townsfolk conspire to bring peace between the two peoples is utterly magical (it involves a rousing rendition of the one and only Hallelujah chorus) and completely delightful. The fantasy element is understated, and ambiguous--the question of Odin or angel is left unanswered--yet it is has sufficient weight to make the story literally magical. Lawrence makes no particular effort to strive for Authenticity, yet she doesn't offend my historical sensibilities, and though her characters would be at home in a mid-20th century story of English village life, she creates a Dark Age Britain that rings true to me.

I love her characters, her world-building, her writing, and her message of hope that even in dark times, people can come together (with a bit of divine intervention) and keep the light of civilization burning.

(I could, however, have done without all the parts of the body puns used for names. Fortunately, being dense that way, I didn't pick up on it till about half way through).

Ann Lawrence wrote 15 books, and I hope to find them all, although most are out of print, and I couldn't, just now, find a list of them to link to (any help appreciated). So far I've reviewed Tom Ass and The Good Little Devil.

All Clear, by Connie Willis, for this Wednesday's Timeslip Tuesday

I started reading All Clear, by Connie Willis (2010) Monday morning...but it's a long book, and I didn't finish till Tuesday night, too late to make my Tuesday Timeslip deadline....so here it is today!

All Clear is the second half of a time travel saga that began with Blackout (my review), and the two need to be read back to back. It picks up right where the first book ended (anyone who hasn't read Blackout will be completely lost), with three historians from the 2060s stranded in World War II London. Polly, Eileen, and Mike are growing increasingly desperate--their paths back to the future are blocked, and no-one seems to be coming back in time to save them. For all three, every day in the past brings dangers from the blitz, and the worry that they will somehow do something that will change the course of history. But for Polly in particular, there is a greater danger. She had already gone back in time to observe the celebrations of VE day...and to be there again will kill her.

Much of the story involves the desperate circumstance of London in the blitz, a frenetic background for the three historians efforts to find a way home. Interspersed are flashes from Polly's future trip a few years after the blitz, along with the adventures of of a young man named Ernest, up in Scotland in 1944, trying to fool the Nazis into thinking the allied invasion of France will take place anywhere but Normandy. It's a busy, busy series of events and excitements, as bombs fall, buildings burn, and lives are saved, and lost. Small acts of courage abound, as do desperate acts of bravery, and there was almost too much Happening, in a fates conspiring against the central characters way, for me to enjoy large sections of the story.

Yet through all this chaos I had faith (having read all her other books) that Willis knew exactly what she was doing, and I was rewarded. As the book races towards its conclusion, the emotional intensity keeps ratcheting upward...and it became utterly un-put-downable and profoundly moving. The implications of time travel, the ramifications of the actions of ordinary people in horrible situations, and the question of what constitutes heroism all come together at the end to make this much, much more than an interesting look at World War II (although it is that).

Although this didn't, for me, have quite the devastating emotional punch those of Willis' novels that effected me most profoundly (Lincoln's Dreams and Passage), because I do think that some of the frenetic action could have been pruned somewhat (1,168 pages, the combined total of the two books, is rather a lot), it is still an incredibly powerful story, masterfully told.

Here's a review of both books at The Children's War.

King of Ithaka, by Tracy Barrett

King of Ithaka, by Tracy Barrett (Henry Holt, 2010, mg/ya, 261 pages)

On the small island of Ithaka, young Telemachos waits--for his beard to show up, for his father, Odyseus, to come home from Troy. There's nothing particularly urgent in his waiting (and there's nothing about his character that screams Hero), until it becomes clear that there are some on Ithaka who think that enough is enough, and that it is time for Telemachos' mother to accept a new husband, and for the little island kingdom to accept a new ruler.

So Telemachos, his best friend (a centaur, even thought they don't do so well in boats), and a stowaway (a plucky girl hoping to find a place in the world outside of Ithaka), head off to the mainland to seek news of Odysseus. It is a journey that broadens Telemachos' horizon, almost killing him in the process, as he travels to the court of Nestor at Pylos, and then on to Sparta, where bitter old Menelaus lives with his recaptured wife, Helen. It is a journey that Athena herself is watching closely--it is she who is responsible for pushing Telemachos into action. And when he comes home to Ithaka, Telemochos meets the greatest challenge of all--his father.

My gold standard for historical fiction about Bronze Age Greece is Mary Renault's retelling of the story of Theseus (The King Must Die), and it's a pretty darn high standard. Barrett manages to tell an engrossing story, but she never quite achieves Renault's extraordinarily rich recreation of an ancient world where the gods were real--that was a book that rocked my world, this was a book I found interesting, one that passed the time pleasantly without (except for toward the end) ever pulling me in emotionally. But it's not a fair comparison anyway, because, quite frankly, Telemachos' quest is rather small beans on the scale of epic mythological quests. He's more a footnote to a larger story. And unlike The King Must Die, The King of Ithaka is a book for younger readers--it's perfectly appropriate for seventh and eighth graders.

And as such, The King of Ithaka is, I think, an most excellent book to give a specific sort of fan of the Percy Jackson series. Not the sort who's looking for read-alikes, because, although there's a centaur and some monsters and some danger in this one, it is much more measured in its pacing, and less crammed with Adventure on Every Page. Rather, I'd give this one to the reader that wants more of the backstory, the reader whose interest in Greek mythology has been well and truly piqued (and that fact that mythological creatures are alive and well, and take an active role in the story, should add to its appeal).

That reader should, like me, enjoy Telemachos's journey across Greece, a journey that takes him from extremely naive (almost unlikable) boy to a worthy young man, tested and found true-hearted.

Here's another review at Manga Maniac Cafe.

The Good Little Devil, by Ann Lawrence

Yesterday I wrote about one of my sister's Christmas presents; today it's a book I got myself that made me all kinds of happy! A while ago, I re-read a childhood favorite, Tom Ass, by Ann Lawrence (my review), and it occurred to me (after 30 odd years) that maybe this author, whose book I love so much, might perhaps have written something else (duh)! And she had! And my list of books that would be welcomed grew accordingly, and The Good Little Devil graced my Christmas Pile.

The Good Little Devil (1978, illustrated most charmingly by Ionicus) is the story of what happens when a medieval monastery becomes home to a small dark supernatural creature. When kegs of beer and wine are mysteriously opened overnight, the cellarer, Brother John, becomes convinced the abbey is bewitched...and indeed, a suitable ritual captures the devil behind the mischief! It is a small, somewhat subdued imp, and the Abbot, always one to think things through, decides it would be good publicity for the monastery to have a devil as one of the brothers. So, robbed as a monastic brother, the imp joins the boys of the choir school....and does his best to fit in.

Young Wilfred, one of the two resident boys, becomes fond of the creature, as do Brother John and other thoughtful brothers. They become increasingly convinced that this depressed little devil is, perhaps, something more along the lines of a hob or a brownie...and at last Brother John frees it from its hated robes. But the creature, now in the form of a black cat, stays with his new friends, bringing them good luck, while working its mischievous side out on paying back the boys that had tormented it when it was forced to be a choirboy.

Goodness, this was a fun little story. It doesn't try to be Historical Fiction, in the sense of accurately capturing the essence of Medieval Monastic Life, and indeed, several of the characters sound like they'd be more at home in an early 20th century British comedy of manners. But that doesn't hurt the story one single bit--instead, it gives Lawrence the freedom just to enjoy her storytelling, and the reader enjoys it right along with her.

An excellent read out loud, an excellent one to give to a kid who enjoys lighter historical fiction mixed with fantasy, or simply a book for the grown-up reader to savor herself (and isn't it so awfully nice when you read a middle grade book and just plain like it, instead of thinking, oh I would have liked this so much if I'd read it when I was ten! It's possible that this was the case with this book because the adults were as likeable as the central boy character).

Especially recommended to those who enjoy books set in monasteries and books with clever black cats.

(I couldn't find a picture of the cover on line anywhere; I guess I'll take mine to work tomorrow and scan it there-Done!)

The Crowfield Curse, by Pat Walsh

I love good historical fiction mixed with good fantasy, and 2010 has served me well in that regard. There was Katherine Langrish's lovely book, The Shadow Hunt, Philip Reeve's gripping No Such Thing as Dragons, and Rebecca Barnhouse's very satisfying reimagining of Beowulf, The Coming of the Dragon.

And then came The Crowfield Curse, by Pat Walsh, a book I enjoyed immensely. It's set in a medieval monastery in winter, where a young orphan boy named William works hard in return for meager food and a cold place to sleep. The forest lies close around...and in the forest there are Things. One of these is a friendly Hob, rescued by William from an iron trap and now his friend. But there is also a forbidden place, where something strange and horrible happened years before. A place where the monks buried a murdered angel.

Drawn to that place, an unlikely pair of travellers have come to the monastery--a leper, once a great musician, with a companion who isn't human...

And Will finds himself caught in the middle of a struggle between the forces of dark and light, with only his own good heart, and the friendship of the friendly Hob, to help him raise the angel from the dead and set things right.

Yes, there really is an angel, which took me aback somewhat. But Walsh manages to make her angel a believable part of a world in which there are also fairies. The story was both familiar (the good vs the bad factions of the Other People), but at the same time, beautifully original. The supernatural is an integral part of the cold winter story, but Walsh sets the fantastic most satisfyingly into a nicely authentic medieval world. And on top of that, William and his Hob friend are characters to take to one's heart. I found it especially pleasing that William is chosen to play his part mainly because he is warm-hearted, genuinely good and well-intentioned.

A great one for readers of 10 years old on up to enjoy during the dark winter nights! That being said, it's not tremendously Action Packed, so I think the contemplative sort of middle grade reader is the natural audience for this one, as opposed to those that like non-stop Happenings. The other natural audience for this one being readers like me, for whom this book was a lovely treat.

Here's another review, at The Book Aunt, that includes excerpts.

The sequel, The Crowfield Demon, comes out in the UK this April--thank goodness for the Book Depository and its free shipping! Here's the blurb, from the author's website:

"In this second Crowfield adventure, it is March 1348. Evil lurks in Crowfield Abbey and the building is starting to collapse. Fay creatures have fled the surrounding forest in terror.

Repairs begin and William is given the job of lifting floor tiles in a haunted side chapel. There he finds a box from an earlier pagan time containing a small wooden bowl, covered with strange warnings and symbols.

The bowl is cursed and a hideous demon is unleashed within the Abbey’s walls, that will wreak unspeakable havoc. Can Will and his friends summon help in time or is it the end of Crowfield forever?"

The Coming of the Dragon, by Rebecca Barnhouse

The Coming of the Dragon, by Rebecca Barnhouse (2010, Random House, middle grade/ya, 301 pages)

Anyone who wants lovely historical fiction with a dragon added need look no further than this one!

After defeating Grendel and his mother, Beowulf got to enjoy a long stretch of peace as king of the Geats. Peace of a sort, that is--a festering feud with a neighboring people keeps things somewhat on edge, but at least the dragon rumored to live up in the mountains still sleeps. But when an ill-wishing man from far away steals a golden treasure from the dragon's hoard, it flies out, wrecking havoc and bringing death with its fiery breath.

Young Rune was the first to see it, and while he ran to warn the king, the dragon destroyed the only home he had ever known, and killed the old woman who had raised him. Rune has no other family--he was found as an infant in a boat washed ashore years, and has no idea who he might truly be. He dreams, though, of one day being a warrior in Beowulf's great hall, winning glory enough to impress the lovely Wynn.

But the dragon's coming changes that. Now Rune's one goal is to defeat the dragon....a dragon who might well prove more than a match for even a great hero like Beowulf.

Barnhouse does a delightful job bringing this last chapter of the saga of Beowulf to life, and I was completely satisfied with the historical accuracy of her story. I spent several years studying things Anglo-Saxon, but never, to my shame, have read Beowulf all the way through...so my satisfaction is not as watertight as it might be! However, it is almost unheard of for me not to find nits to pick in most historical fiction, and it was so nice not to find any here. I was reminded of Rosemary Sutcliff, my favorite writer of historical fiction,who taught me most of what I know about the Romans.

Rune, a teenage boy struggling to find his place in life, struggling to be brave in the face of the un-faceable, is a believable hero who is put in an impossible place and rises to the challenge. He's not one of your cocky, self-assured heroes who will clearly come out on top; rather, he's one of the self-doubting ones, who finds in himself more than he ever imagined. His character development comes not just from central problem of the dragon, but is also bound up in the larger, more complex questions of the mystery of his origins, and the future that awaits him.

There is magic, and the gods are at work, but these fantastical elements are subtle, and integrated into the fabric of the story in a way that strengthens the central plot, rather than distracting the reader. And finally, the great cast of supporting characters includes some strong-minded girls, although, in as much as this is Rune's rather dragon-centric story, they don't get as much page time as the boys do! My only area of vague dissatisfaction was the ending, which seemed a bit forced and rushed.

However, despite that one reservation, I think this is one of those rare books that I enjoyed just as much now as I would have when I was the age of the intended audience, which is to say lots.

Other reviews: Manga Maniac Cafe and Library Lounge Lizard