Friday Flash: The Dancer and the Shattered Shell

Chuck gave us another ten random titles this week, and this time I used the random number generator to pick one for me. So, in 1000 words, here is...

The Dancer and the Shattered Shell

The glade spun past the dancer. His eyes took it all in as a blur of color, motion so fast it ceased to move, became a water-color scarf in which to wrap himself.

Alec let himself spin gradually to a stop, watching as the trees sorted themselves back into individual trunks and branches, and smiled. The boys who made fun of him for dancing—had mocked him until he’d retreated to the woods to dance for only the trees—knew nothing. He finished his dance, bare feet tapping the meadow grass, and bowed to his arboreal audience. Alec liked dancing for the trees. When he thought about it, he thought that being forced to the forest was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Panting a little from his dance—the music in his head had been fast, a driving beat that kept him moving—Alec trotted off to the big oak to check the nest.

The oak stood in the center of the forest, and felt like a relic of an older time. Where most of the trees were slim-trunked and straight, Alec could not reach around even half of the oak’s sturdy base. And the branches, rather than climbing in neat ladders, reached in all directions with a randomness that still managed to be graceful.

Alec liked climbing trees, and the oak was perfect for it, the broad, sturdy branches at just odd enough intervals to be interesting. He had been climbing the oak for years, and he’d been hiding there when he found the nest.

Alec remembered the day. Most of the time the woods were his own, but on that day the neighborhood kids penetrated deep into the forest, not following or chasing him, but looking for crabapples to throw at stray cats. Alec climbed the tree to his usual level then, hearing the boys coming closer and afraid they would see him, he turned and climbed higher, to where the leaves and branches hid the ground completely. He knew that people hardly ever looked up, but he would take no chances. After a time, he forgot the other boys, and climbed for the love of climbing, and for the love of the tree.

He had come on the nest in the highest branches that would support his weight. It was big. Big enough that he looked quickly around to be sure the occupants weren’t home, though when he peeped over the edge, the nest was empty of both birds and eggs. It was just a huge nest, suggesting a larger bird than he had ever noticed about the forest.

After that day, Alec climbed several times to the highest branches of the tree to look at the nest. In the spring, a single, large egg appeared, and he became more careful about getting near the nest. He knew now what bird lived there, and had no desire to meet with beak and talons designed to rip apart small animals. He stayed away for the summer, once climbing a nearby tree to see if he could peek in. He could see nothing and didn’t try again.

Now it was fall, and when Alec had danced the changing seasons, he went again to see the nest. If the egg had hatched, the fledgling must by now be flying and independent, or it would not make it through the winter.

He had missed the tree. It felt like home. Rather, it felt like what he thought home ought to feel like. It covered him, hid him, made him safe. It brought him to the adventure of heights. And it gave him the nest.

Alec scanned the trees and the sky to be sure that there were no large raptors hanging about, ready to defend the nest. They should be long gone, or did birds like that leave their nests in winter, the way the robins and wrens did? He wasn’t sure, so he looked hard.

Then he peeked over the edge of the nest. There they were. The shattered shards of the huge shell, kicked aside but never fully destroyed, despite the activity that must have filled the nest for weeks after the chick hatched. Alec held his breath, wondering if he dared.

Almost without willing it, he reached out a hand, and touched the largest piece of shell. Then, hurrying, eyes as much on the sky as on the task, he scooped up as much of it as he could, stowed it in the hood of his sweatshirt, and climbed back down the tree. He looked about, hoping the bird would understand, then forgot everything else in studying the shell. The colors, the curve of the broken pieces, the smoothness of the surface. It all fascinated him, and filled him with delight.

The space under the tree was clear. Little grew in the shade of the great spreading branches. Alec laid the shattered shell on a patch of moss and began to dance.

He didn’t know that the great birds watched as he danced the hatching and the flight.

He soon learned, however, that the neighborhood bullies had been watching. They circled him, mocking. Alec gritted his teeth, ignored them, and kept dancing. When he felt the first rock, he flinched, but did not lose his rhythm. In any case, what could he do? If he fled, they would follow, and he would go down under a pile of fists and kicks.

When he danced, they never quite dared to touch him. Alec didn’t know why. It was his dancing, as much as his poverty and loneliness, that made them hate him. And yet, to dance was to be protected. Until now.

A second boy bent and picked up a rock. They had found a way to touch him without touching him. The frenzy of a mob told hold, and three rocks struck Alec. Still bleeding, he kept dancing.

Then the giant birds swept down, beaks and claws extended.

©Rebecca M. Douglass, 2016

Just  few more days to enter the Goodreads Giveaway for Death By Trombone!

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Death By Trombone

by Rebecca Douglass

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Non-fiction review: The Monuments Men Audiobook

 

Title: The Monuments Men: Allied Heroes, Nazi Thieves, and the Greatest Treasure Hunt in History
Author: Robert M. Edsel. Narrated by Bret Witter
Publisher: MacMillan Audio, 2009. Originally by Center Street, 2009 (473 pages).
Source: Library

Publisher's Summary:
t the same time Adolf Hitler was attempting to take over the western world, his armies were methodically seeking and hoarding the finest art treasures in Europe. The Fuehrer had begun cataloguing the art he planned to collect as well as the art he would destroy: "degenerate" works he despised.

In a race against time, behind enemy lines, often unarmed, a special force of American and British museum directors, curators, art historians, and others, called the Momuments Men, risked their lives scouring Europe to prevent the destruction of thousands of years of culture.

Focusing on the eleven-month period between D-Day and V-E Day, this fascinating account follows six Monuments Men and their impossible mission to save the world's great art from the Nazis.

My Review:
An incredible story, and very well told. We get enough of the background of individuals to make sure we are invested, but the focus remains on the task the men and women accomplished, which is where the real interest lies. This is a piece of WWII history that I didn't know about, though I had been aware of Nazi looting of artworks. I hadn't realized how close many had come to being destroyed (or how many were, in fact, lost).

The focus of the book is, as it should be, on the art and the quest, but the author has managed to mold this into some gripping story lines. We do come to care about the men and women who fought to save the art, as well as the art they were fighting for. The epilogue that followed up on what happened to all the main players felt somewhat hasty. It read kind of like a list; perhaps the author shared my feeling that it didn't much matter.

The narration was a little rough, and I found the reproduction of accents in the reproduced dialog to be a decidedly false note. With so many characters and story lines, it would have been better to read it on the page, where it's easier to keep track, and to see when the story shifts from one to another.

Recommendation: 
If you have any interest in art or in WWII, read this, but get the book, not the audio version. For one thing, it has helpful additions like maps and a list of characters! The story has also been made into a movie; I have not seen that and cannot comment on it.

Full Disclosure: I checked The Monuments Men out of my library, 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."

Middle Grade Review: May Amelia

Today, I'm doing two books at once. I listened to the audio back-to-back, repeating the first book, which I read several years ago, in order to have the context for the second book.

   

Titles: Our Only May Amelia and The Trouble with May Amelia
Author: Jennifer L. Holm; read by Emmy Rossum & Maria Dalbotten, respectively.
Publishers: Harper Collins 2001, and Atheneum, 2011. Audio editions by Listening Library, 2007 and 2012.
Source: Library

Summary:

Our Only May Amelia: May Amelia struggles along as the only girl in the whole pioneering settlement along the Nasel River in Washington State. Having seven brothers doesn't help, nor does the fact that in spite of all this, everyone somehow expects her to be a  proper young lady. But she's looking forward to that changing, with the birth of a new baby in the family! It might even be enough to compensate for Grandma's moving in with them.

The Trouble with May Amelia: A year along, or thereabouts, May is still struggling with expectations for her, and her father's belief that girls aren't good for much. When he pick her to translate for him when an agent comes calling, May's excited to prove her worth. When things go bad, though, she's the one in trouble, and the whole family is in danger of coming apart unless she can find a solution.

Review:

First off, the audio versions were both excellent. Both readers did a good job, in a very similar fashion--in spite of listening one right after the other, I had to check to see that there were different readers.  

I enjoyed these stories. I like historical fiction, and I like tales of settling the American West, and in this case, it was even about my home state (Washington), though a part of the state I've not much visited. Still, I am always amazed that anyone managed to stick it out there through even one dark, soggy winter back before the days of central heating!

Despite the ten-year gap between when Ms. Holm wrote the first and second books, they hang together well, and the characters seem consistent. I like May Amelia for being a tomboy, and sticking to that. She doesn't convert to girliness in order to win her father's respect--she fights her way to that by a harder route. I like the mix of maturity and childishness that characterizes May Amelia and the younger boys. It struck me as being about right--kids had to take on responsibility under those conditions, but it didn't stop them being kids, and having fun (or skiving off from work, for that matter).

Recommendation:

The stories are engaging as stories, and the author's understanding of the setting makes them better. I recommend the books to anyone from about age 9 up (there are some things that may be hard for younger kids to deal with) who likes to read about how people lived in other times and places. Or, for any girl who struggles with expectations of what a girl "ought" to do and be.

Full Disclosure: I checked both books out of my digital library, and received nothing from the writer or publishers 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."