Middle Grade Monday: The Tail of Emily Windsnap

 

Title: The Tail of Emily Windsnap
Author: Liz Kessler
Publisher: Candlewick Press, 2003. 211 pages.
Source: Library

Publisher's Blurb:

For as long as she can remember, twelve-year-old Emily Windsnap has lived on a boat. And, oddly enough, for just as long, her mother has seemed anxious to keep Emily away from the water. But when Mom finally agrees to let her take swimming lessons, Emily makes a startling discovery — about her own identity, the mysterious father she’s never met, and the thrilling possibilities and perils shimmering deep below the water’s surface. With a sure sense of suspense and richly imaginative details, first-time author Liz Kessler lures us into a glorious undersea world where mermaids study shipwrecks at school and Neptune rules with an iron trident — an enchanting fantasy about family secrets, loyal friendship, and the convention-defying power of love.  


My Review:

I just learned from the blurb that this was Liz Kessler's first book. I have reviewed North of Nowhere and Has Anyone Seen Jessica Jenkins?, both of which I enjoyed. I can see that she started right off with her love of blending the real and the almost-real, or magical elements. I think I can also see that she honed her skills with the Emily Windsnap books, and I think it shows in a higher quality in the later books.

Not that this was bad. Kessler did a nice job of capturing Emily's panic over the change that happens when she gets in the water, as well as the joy that she is able to experience. Some other elements of the story, including Neptune and his court, I found a bit over the top. I got the feeling, as well, that the author periodically forgot that the merfolk world is under water, and some elements she describes just wouldn't work (including the conversations. Ever try to talk under water?).

I read the book because the second in the series was one of our summer reads for the GMGR Goodreads group, but I wasn't excited enough to bother with that second book. This one just didn't cut it for the adult audience, though I think it might hit the target audience quite well. 

My Recommendation:
This would be a good read (beach read?) for the 8-11 set, I think. It's going to appeal primarily to girls, though in fact it's a good adventure story.

FTC Disclosure: I checked The Tail of Emily Windsnap out of my library, and received nothing from the writer or publisher for my honest review. The opinions expressed are my own and those of no one else. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255: "Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising."  

Middle Grade Fantasy: Granted, by John David Anderson

Title: Granted

Author: John David Anderson
Publisher: Walden Pond Press, 2018. 325 pages (hardback).
Source: Library

Publisher's Blurb:Everyone who wishes upon a star, or a candle, or a penny thrown into a fountain knows that you’re not allowed to tell anyone what you’ve wished for. But even so, there is someone out there who hears it.

In a magical land called the Haven lives a young fairy named Ophelia Delphinium Fidgets. Ophelia is no ordinary fairy—she is a Granter: one of the select fairies whose job it is to venture out into the world and grant the wishes of unsuspecting humans every day.

It’s the work of the Granters that generates the magic that allows the fairies to do what they do, and to keep the Haven hidden and safe. But with worldwide magic levels at an all-time low, this is not as easy as it sounds. On a typical day, only a small fraction of the millions of potential wishes gets granted.

Today, however, is anything but typical. Because today, Ophelia is going to get her very first wish-granting assignment.

And she’s about to discover that figuring out how to truly give someone what they want takes much more than a handful of fairy dust. 

My Review:  
This book has a lovely cover, and a story to match. Honestly, I'd have read it just for the pleasure of having a character named Ophelia Delphinium Fidgets. But the story is well worth it on it's own.

A co-worker recommended this to me in part because it reminded her of my own book, Halitor the Hero. Not the same story at all, but the books share a sort of gentle ironic humor, and a hero(ine) who tries perhaps too hard and keeps failing until the mission is accomplished. I loved the story, and felt that the tone was just right--a little funny, a little whimsical, and a whole lot adventurous.

My Recommendation:
This is a book that will probably delight readers from 7 or 8 on up. The writing is pretty accessible without being simplified, and the story is gentle enough for younger children to read and enjoy. And maybe we can all reclaim a little bit of magic!


FTC Disclosure: I checked Granted out of my library, and received nothing from the writer or publisher for my honest review. The opinions expressed are my own and those of no one else. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255: "Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising." 

Friday Flash Fiction: The Fourth Awakening

Another week without a prompt from Chuck Wendig, but I had it covered, thanks to the story I couldn't finish in time last week. I used a random title generator, and got "The Four Awakenings," which I changed a little after I finished the story because I felt like it. The setting must have been inspired by how cold me feet have been lately!

The Fourth Awakening

My first awakening was simple, and normal. When the sun came up, I opened my eyes, same as any day. Sleeping, then not sleeping, just as usual, and really only about three-quarters awake. That morning, opening my eyes was about the last normal thing that happened. I rolled out of the sack, and instead of my bare feet hitting the fuzzy rug that’s been by my bed since I was ten—that’s 15 years, for those of you wondering—they hit sand. Mom bought that rug at a rummage sale, and when she brought it home I hated it. It was tacky, and pinkish, and dated even though it was brand new. But I kept it anyway, because it was fuzzy and warm on my toes. None of which mattered now, because the rug was gone.

That was my second awakening, you might say. When the ground under your feet has literally moved, or at least changed completely, you tend to pay attention. My eyes snapped open the rest of the way, and I noticed that the sun was a lot brighter than it should have been. It was hot, bright, and my rug was gone.

So was my room. I was standing in a desert, nothing but sand anywhere, and wearing nothing but my skivvies because I was too cool for PJs. I was now very awake indeed.


I didn’t know if I should stay put and hope my bedroom reappeared, or start looking for shelter and water, because I was definitely not equipped for desert survival. I could feel my skin burning already, after five minutes in the place.

That made my mind up for me. I would have to find shelter and water. If there wasn’t any to be found—the very uniform nature of the sand worried me—then I was toast. Take either meaning of that; both work.

So much for the first two awakenings. The third awakening took longer, because I thought I was about as awake as I could get.

I walked for a long time. Nothing changed, except that I grew hot, tired, and thirsty, and my skin continued to burn. Also, my feet began to feel raw. The sand was smooth and free of burrs and stones, but my 21st-Century office-worker feet were tender, and the sand began to feel like, well, sandpaper. Coarse grit.

I swore a lot, but I didn’t stop moving. After a while, I had to stop swearing aloud. My mouth was too dry. I was in a sticky spot and no mistake.

I didn’t so much resent that I was about to die, as I resented that I hadn’t put myself in this position. It just…happened. If I’m going to die a stupid and senseless death, I want to have had fun getting there. I want to get the chance to say, “hold my beer.”

You might way that was my third awakening, though it was more of a gradual thing than the others, and like I say, not a physical waking up. I realized that I was going to die, and not in the abstract “we all have to die someday” sense. This was concrete and personal, and when it sank in I got mad.

When I got mad, I took action.

In one sense, of course, I’d been taking action from the start, as best I could, looking for water and shelter from the sun. I was starting to second-guess that decision: maybe I should have stayed put until the sun went down, instead of walking through the heat of the day. Maybe not, with no way to shade myself from the sun at all. Maybe it didn’t matter.

The action I now took was to think about how I got there in the first place. I don’t know too many people who could make me wake up somewhere other than where I went to sleep. And there was something not quite right about this. No desert I ever saw was so smooth and purely sandy, for such a long way. Maybe some parts of the Sahara were; I hadn’t been there. But I knew no desert in North America looked like this. Probably none on Earth.

Once I’d figured that out, I thought of Sarah, who’d long since promised to send me to hell. This looked like a good approximation. Knowing who was behind my troubles gave me something to work with.

I hoped.

I didn’t have any magic to counter whatever she’d done. I didn’t even know how to make her hear me protest.

All I could do was to refuse to believe. See, I’d learned a long time back that magic can’t affect you if you don’t believe it can.* It’s the best protection you can have. The challenge is not believing. It’s hard to generate genuine unbelief when your whole body knows you are barefoot in Hell.

I mean, my feet hurt. I had to overcome abraded feet and burned skin and sand in my skivvies and a mouth so dry I couldn’t speak, and make myself believe I was still at home in bed.

That might have been the hardest thing I ever did. I stopped walking, lay down, closed my eyes, and told myself that I was in bed, it was a little chilly in the room, and I needed to get up and go pee. I figured if I could believe that last, desiccated as I was, I had the thing in the bag.

After a long time, I swung my feet over the side of the bed, curled my toes in the fuzzy rug that covered the cold hardwood floor, and enjoyed my fourth awakening.

Then I went in search of Sarah. I had a score to settle.
+++

*This is clearly related to the power of belief to create magic, as practiced in every production of Peter Pan, where the applause and belief of a room full of little kids keeps Tinkerbell alive.

***

©Rebecca M. Douglass, 2016
As always, please ask permission to use any photos or text. Link-backs appreciated!

Like what you read? Consider buying my books, including the latest, now available from Amazon and Smashwords, as well as other on-line bookstores.Or order signed copies direct from the author!

Friday Flash

Still on our own, with Flashmaster Chuck Wendig distracted by his own writing and trying to spare all the NaNers and so not providing writing prompts. I took a random title from a Random Title Generator, and wrote just under 700 words about the too-long-neglected Gorg the Troll. If you haven't met Gorg, you can find links to his backstory here (scroll to the bottom of the page).

It had also been my intention to include feast in each story this month, but Gorg proved too busy to eat much.

Grey Magic: A Tale of Gorg the Troll

Gorg awoke slowly in a chill, dark cave, and remembered. He remembered first that he’d been hiding from a storm. He had been trapped somehow. Then he remembered trying to free himself from the trap created by yet another sorcerer bent on killing him. A sorcerer in the employ of Gorg’s arch-enemy Duke Bale the Artichoke-Hearted. Gorg remembered he had found a way out.  And then he had lain down and gone to sleep before completing the easy, but tedious, task of crumbling his way out.

Why?

He strained to remember. It had been night, and cold. A blizzard. Yes, there had been a blizzard, too cold, windy and fierce for him to go out. It had made sense to wait. It had made sense to take a nap.

Why did it feel now as though it had been a bad idea to take a nap? Gorg’s mind cleared itself of the stone crystals of sleep, and he got to his feet, shaking his huge stone head which felt stuffed with something soft and bland. Light poured into the cave through the small opening he had made before retreating from the storm. He peered out, and knew he’d been right. It had been a very bad idea to go to sleep.

Sleep hadn’t been his idea, it had been a grey coat of magic, which blunted everything and turned his mind to fuzz. It had not been his sleep, but the sorcerer’s. A sorcerer who wielded grey magic, magic which so seldom was seen, not because it wasn't used, but because it wasn't visible.

The storm was gone. Long gone, by the evidence. He reached out his stone fingers and crumbled the edges of the opening until he could put his head out for a good look.

Right. A bad idea. He ate a chunk of the stone, and more of the sleep crystals and the grey fuzz cleared.

It was spring. He’d gone into the cave for shelter from a mid-winter blizzard, and now it was spring, if not summer. It was warm outside, and there were flowers. Spring, then. By summer, flowers in the Iron Desert were burnt to dust and blown away.

He remembered the laughter of the sorcerer who’d caged him, and Gorg Trollheim began to get angry. He ripped the opening wider, pausing only to crunch down more of the creamy limestone and sate his hunger.

His hunger for revenge remained unsated. Was there no killing Bale, and no end of mages willing to serve his nefarious ends?

Probably not. Gorg didn’t care. Bale had killed Gorg’s family. He had commanded them to be turned to stone and dropped into a raging river, where they were ground to powder, until there was no hope of reanimating them. Gorg had to give up the stones of his fathers, but he would not give up his revenge.

Duke Bale wanted the throne of King Celery the Half-Witted, but Gorg no longer cared about that. He had done what he could for the king, but human kings, he now understood, were a human problem. Troll-killers were a troll problem.

Gorg wanted Duke Bale to get dead and stay dead. It was that latter task that was hard, it seemed. Gorg had killed Bale twice. That was once more than should have been necessary.

Gorg strode across the Iron Desert toward the Valley of the Baleful Stones, the home of Duke Bale the Artichoke-Hearted. In midwinter, Gorg had left the Duke buried under the rubble of his collapsed tower. He might still be there. He might have stayed dead this time.

Gorg didn’t believe it.

He would go back to the Valley, and track down Bale wherever he might be now. And he would find a way to make him stay dead. Perhaps grind him to mush, perhaps toss him into one of the stinking sulfur vents that gave the valley its name. Grey magic was tricky. It could be turned on the one who used it, and grey, Gorg thought, was his native color.

Trolls weren’t fast thinkers, as a rule (though Gorg knew how to change that rule, if need be). But they did tend to stick to an idea until it was finished. Gorg stuck to his revenge with the immobility of a pile of stone. Trolls were stone. It was their weakness—and their strength.

Stone never gives up.

©Rebecca M. Douglass, 2015

My favorite portrait of Gorg, spotted in Badlands National Park, South Dakota

Middle Grade Classic: The Enchanted Castle

Wrong cover, as so often happens with library books, but I couldn't find an image for the edition I read.

Title: The Enchanted Castle
Author: E. Nesbit (Edith Nesbit)
Publisher: E.P Dutton & Sons, 1963, for the Illustrated Children's Classics Series. Original publication 1907. 231 pages.
Source: library booksale

Summary:
Siblings Gerald, James, and Katherine are stuck at her boarding school during the vacation, and soon discover a nearby castle--and a sleeping princess. The princess turns out to be Mabel, the housekeeper's niece, but the enchantments turn out to be real. A magic ring causes no end of adventures, and wreaks no end of havok before they manage to get everything straightened out.

Review: 
I believe that the only other of Nesbit's books I've read is The Railway Children, which is not fantasy but a bit of generally light fiction, so I had no idea what to expect of this book. I definitely didn't expect quite what I got, and I'm not sure I like what I read. I had no issues with the characters, who are sufficiently human and as likeable as they need to be. But I admit to being taken aback by how dark (or maybe just plain creepy) parts of the story are. Despite how accustomed kids today are to reading books where frightening things happen, there was a creepiness to the middle of the book, especially the chapters about the Ugly-Wugglies, that I found disturbing. All that creepiness is taken care of in the end, and the story never really feels like the children are in true danger, and that in a way made the story less satisfying to me (and maybe even a bit creepier).

The story is well put-together, though the end is a bit predictable, so what we really have here is my own personal reaction to it. I don't think there's anything really wrong with it. Just be aware that a child who is disturbed by the macabre might well be given nightmares by this one, and that it may not be to everyone's taste. The book might fall into the very popular category of books about children who stumble into a magical world, but this one is actually about children who accidentally bring the magic into our ordinary world. Since I'm fed up with gates into magic worlds, I found it a refreshing change in that sense, and now that I'm done enjoy contemplating the paradoxes that created.

Recommendation:
For those who enjoy a classic British children's tale, and aren't disturbed by icky creatures coming to life and other strange events. It is also interesting to read this in perspective: it pre-dates Narnia, and even Middle Earth. In fact, I'm not sure how much fantasy had been written by 1907, which casts it in rather a different light.

Full Disclosure: I purchased The Enchanted Castle, and received nothing from the writer or publisher in exchange for my honest review.  The opinions expressed are my own and those of no one else.  I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255: "Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising."

Book Review: Elidor, by Alan Garner

Title:  Elidor, by Alan Garner.  Paperback, 173 pages
Publisher: Magic Carpet Books (Original: William Collins Son & Co., 1965

Summary:  Siblings Nicholas, David, Helen and Roland (who all appear to be near the same unspecified age, probably stepping up from about 10 or 11 to 13 or 14) are having a good wander through Manchester when something very strange happens.  They find themselves in another land, a place of magic--and a place where forces of darkness and death seem to have won.  Back in England, the children try to pretend it didn't happen--all but Roland.  He knows that there will be more to do, and he is right.

Review:
This classic fantasy definitely is not your modern fantasy.  More reminiscent of the Narnia books than Harry Potter, it actually spends very little time in the fantasy realm of Elidor, and most of the time dealing with the spill-over from that world into 1965 Manchester.  At first I found that a little disappointing, but the story is gripping, and soon I found that the problem of dealing with magic leaking into a place so mundane was if anything greater than the mission they'd faced in Elidor (not surprisingly, when the kids found themselves in Elidor, I assumed we'd be there for the rest of the book.  Garner doesn't do things that obviously, though).

The story is tight and gripping, but I did find that the characters, aside from Roland, were a little thinly drawn (as noted above, I'm not even sure how old they are--they all feel the same age, and I'm pretty sure they aren't meant to be quadruplets).  And because we spend so little time in Elidor, we are less invested than we might be in the outcome--but that's part of the story. 

This is another take, as well, on the standing Middle Grade issue of what to do with the parents/responsible adults.  In this case, the children have hold of something so outrageous and unbelievable that they can't tell anyone--no one would believe them anyway.  They mostly don't really even believe it themselves.  It's up to Roland--whose name is probably not chosen by chance, and who is the only one who really believes it happened--to keep the faith and deal with the problems that their little adventure has caused.

A good read, but not I think as good as The Weirdstone of Brisingamen, by the same author, due mainly to the lack of character development.

 Full disclosure: I borrowed a copy of  Elidor  from the library.  I received nothing from the author or publisher for my review, which is my honest opinion.  The opinions expressed therein are my own and those of no one else.

###

 

Book Reivew: Battle Magic

 

Title: Battle Magic, by Tamora Pierce, 440 pages

Publisher: Scholastic, 2013

Summary:
Although it is listed as the third book in "The Circle Reforged" series, Battle Magic actually takes place before either The Will of the Empress or Melting Stones.  It is the hinted-at tale of the difficulties Briar, his teacher Rosethorn, and his student Evvy experienced on their travels.  As the title suggests, this is a book about the mages at war, and what they will do when pushed.  Taken from their visit to the small, rather Tibet-like kingdom of Gyongxe by an invitation to visit the gardens of the emperor of Yanjing, the three discover an empire prepared for massive war.  When they leave, they find that the war has already been launched--against Gyongxe.  With the main temple of Rosethorne's religion located there, she has no question about her duty--and the young mages won't leave her.  Thus are all three thrust into the middle of epic battles and a struggle of good and evil.

Review:
First things first.  I've already mentioned that this is not really part of a series, the way most of Pierce's books are (she's been writing longer and longer books so I guess the whole story can go in one, so the last few have been free-standing though still using familiar characters).  I want to also mention that there's a reason I'm not reviewing this on my KidLit day, and that's because to my mind it's well beyond Middle Grade and definitely into Young Adult territory (as in fact I think many of her books are, as the characters move out of childhood and deal with adult issues, including sex).

Now before I can go on with my review I'm going to have to talk about sex, violence, and kids' books.  I want to be clear: I think that the way Pierce handles sex and violence is really, really good.  And starting from maybe age 12 or 13, I think most of her books offer some really good ways to think about real issues that real kids do think about.  But not in grade school.

That said: in this book there is no explicit sex.  There are a few subtle hints of sexual violence, and at least one consensual couple going off into the dark together (they are definitely adults, and who cares if they do it?), but it's all handled in ways that wouldn't bother me for the 9-12 set.  The real thing that gave me pause was the violence.  Rather, the war.  To be sure, it's not generally super graphic, but I was left with images in my head (as were Briart, Evvy and Rosethorn) that I hope will fade fairly soon.  Maybe a bit much for kids.  I am aware that there are a number of books in the Juvenile section of our library that deal with war, real and imagined, in ways as graphic or more so.  I wonder about them, too, sometimes.  It's a choice for a parent to make, I think.

So, taking the book as it is, and leaving aside the question of whether it's really Juvvy lit, I have to say I was totally caught up in the story.  Tamora Pierce is a wonderful storyteller, and not only are we pre-disposed to care about the main characters, she continues to develop them in ways that make them human and interesting.  If I have any criticisms, it would be that the story felt a little one-dimensional.  The war absorbed everything.  Having written that, it sounds stupid: war does have a way of doing that.  But seriously, I think more needed to happen inside the characters, or something, because it just felt. . . thin.  I am not sure that a person who came to this without having read the other books in the series would either follow it as well or care as much.

On reflection, maybe what it felt like was a book that wanted to be adult, and really dive into what was going on as an adult, but kept holding back because it's supposed to be for kids.  That's a tough place for an author to be.  And the bottom line?  Whatever criticism I might have in the cold light of day, I sat up very late reading this two or three nights in a row, because darn it, it's a good story!

Kid Lit Blog Hop--The Last Dragonslayer

The Last Dragonslayer, by Jasper Fforde, 287 pages.

Publisher: Harcourt, 2012.  

Source: library

Summary: 

Jennifer Strange is just a foundling, working out her apprenticeship for Kazam Mystical Arts Management.  She's 14, in charge of a stable of magicians who have become increasingly weak over the years, so that they are reduced to tasks like clearing drains and delivering pizza (via magic carpet, of course).  The world is changing, and she just wants to keep her head down, keep her orange VW Bug running, and have everything continue as it always has in the Ununited Kingdoms.  But Big Magic is afoot, and before she knows it, she is at the center of it, destined to be the last Dragonslayer and scheduled to slay the last dragon, whether she wants to or not.

Review:

Fforde's first children's book (more or less children's; this strikes me as somewhat like my own books: adult fiction masquerading as Middle Grade fiction) grabbed me from the first page when Jennifer, three magicians, and the quarkbeast drive up in her "rust-and-orange-but-mostly-rust Volkswagen" to rewire a house.  The author's light hand with absurdity and well-developed sense that something more is going on caught and held my attention.  As the situation develops, it seems an insoluble problem, and I didn't see the solution coming until the very end.  There is, in my opinion, just the right balance of tension, humor, fantasy, and reality (especially with regard to human nature; indeed it may be a little cynical for the younger set).  The language is good, editing excellent, and pacing near perfect.  My only complaint is that the character of Tiger Prawns, the 7th Foundling to be sent to Kazam as an indentured servant, seems to be brought in and left without a clear purpose.  I have a feeling he'll have more of a role in subsequent books in the series--which I will be reading.

Highly recommended for older children and adults who have a sense of humor and enjoy a good yarn.

I checked The Last Dragonslayer out of my library, and received nothing from the author or publisher for this review, which is my opinion and only mine.

I: Igraine the Brave

 

Back to the kids: Igraine the Brave, by Cornelia Funke


The only other book by Cornelia Funke that I have read is The Thief Lord, so I really wasn't expecting such a light-hearted romp as Igraine provides.  A somewhat tongue-in-cheek version of a knights-in-shining-armor tale, the book opens as Igraine is turning 12.  Though her parents and brothers are magicians, all Igraine wants is to be a knight, and for something exciting to happen.  By the end of the book, she certainly has gotten the second wish, and appears to be well on the way to getting the first.

The castle is threatened by a nefarious knight, the neighbor's nephew wants to steal their magic books, and her parents render themselves unable to protect the castle through a small magical accident.  Only Igraine can save the day, with a little help from her friends, old and new.

A quick, fun read, Igraine should appeal to readers from 8 or 9 up (occasional big words might give pause, but the writing is essentially simple and the story clean and not terribly tense).  Girls will appreciate the heroine who isn't willing to let her gender dictate her choices (nor her family--everyone else may be a magician, but she is going to be a knight, thank you very much).  And before she has finished, she has proven her courage, saved the castle, and become squire to the knight who has helped her.  And her parents have been disenchanted so that all can live happily ever after.

The intricate pen-and-ink drawings that illustrate the book add a final delightful touch. 
4.5 stars.

Review: The Weirdstone of Brisingamen

by Alan Garner, published 1960.  268 pages.


Alan Garner's exciting--and somewhat dark--tale of a magical threat to the world blends magical and real worlds in a manner reminiscent of Narnia.  However, unlike Lewis's books, where the characters travel distinctly between the worlds, in Garner's novel the worlds interact continually and the boundaries are indistinct. 

Set in Cheshire (England), The Weirdstone of Brisingamen tells of Colin and Susan, brother and sister, who stumble into the magical world that exists under and around the everyday world they know.  Susan wears a curious stone on a bracelet inherited from her mother, and the local corps of witches, wizards and evil beings recognize it as a magical artifact essential to a plan to protect the world from the forces evil (them).  They are as determined to get it as the far weaker forces of good are to protect it, and the children, and their powers are twisted and terrifying.  Garner paints them vividly enough to frighten those prone to nightmares.

Through the early chapters, the children stumble in and out of mysteries and dangers with no understanding of what they have (the stone) or what is at stake.  Gradually, they learn the truth, and the action shifts more and more to the magical world, where they are repeatedly attacked and pursued by the evil beings.  Or rather, the magical beings more and more take over what we thought was the everyday, magicless world.  By the second section of the book, the children have gained a pretty good idea what is at stake, and set out to put things right.  They have courage enough, but still lack understanding and the skills they need to survive the adventure.  At the point when all seems lost, they pick up a couple of dwarfish protectors and magic has firmly taken over Cheshire.

In an  unusual move for juvenile fiction of this nature, Gowther, the older farmer who is the children's guardian, not only comes to a quick understanding of the issues and acceptance of the magic world, but accompanies the children and the dwarves on their wildly exciting escape.  Gowther proves invaluable to the escape and a stalwart fighter in the battles they have along the way.  Garner manages to do something I think is very difficult in this kind of story, which is to allow children to be autonomous agents who face situations with courage, and also to allow them to interact somewhat realistically with adults.  It seems like in most such stories, the adults in the lives of the child heroes are an obstruction at best.  Here, while the adults wish to protect Colin and Susan, they also recognize that they have an important role to play, and allow them to take the necessary risks to play it (I only regret that Bess, the mother-figure, is packed off and not part of the party).  You might say that is the lesson of the book for all us parents who read it: trust the kids but be prepared to fight alongside them when necessary.

Garner does not do anywhere near the world-building that, for example, Tolkien does.  He doesn't need to.  His story takes place in our world--and yet not.  As a result we feel very much as Colin and Susan must--disturbed by a growing sense of danger, and frightened by vague or unimaginable threats and a growing sense that things are not what we have always assumed them to be.  We also learn as they do, in bits and pieces, of the world that exists in and around them, and which they might have gone through their lives never knowing existed (as most of their neighbors do, apart from the ones who are in fact evil witches and warlocks).  I kept expecting them to make that one, definitive "through the wardrobe" move that would take them out of our world until the adventure ended.  The fact that, instead, the other world invades ours, is part of what makes the stakes so high and kept me from putting the book down.

Now, I have to admit that despite leaping fairly quickly into adventures and great dangers, the story did not initially grab me.  Looking back at the opening chapters, I frankly can't see what my problem was (perhaps that it faced too much competition from the half dozen other books I was reading?).  Certainly by the time I reached the midpoint, the book had acquired "don't put me down" status, and I read the last hundred and a quarter pages more or less in one sitting (leaving all the other books to sit around whining that it was their turn).

The writing is smooth, editing is professional (as one would expect), and the book does not read particularly as a "children's book," even while it is clearly accessible to at least the more advanced middle grade readers.  A pair of maps at the beginning help set the scene and make a good reference as our heroes were being chased about the countryside.  Looked at in one way, it could be said that Brisingamen is stereotypical (though I would argue that there are elements that I have seldom seen elsewhere), but it is well to remember that in 1960 there was very little yet written in the fantasy genre, and Alan Garner was one of the writers who developed the genre.  More than 50 years and thousands of fantasies later, the story continues to pull us in and carry us ever-faster to the all-too-sudden ending.  That seems worth 5 stars.



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