The Waterless Sea: Book Two in the Chanters of Tremaris Trilogy, by Kate Constable; Arthur A. Levine Books: New York, 2005; $16.95 Before I even begin writing this review, let me tell you, the glorious reader, about my two beliefs concerning fantasy novels. First, there is such a thing as sappy fantasy In fact, there are so many sappy fantasy novels that it could be called a genre unto itself Sappy fantasy can usually be recognized only by a true fantasy connoisseur, such as myself; however, there are a few defining marks: 1) the main characters of sappy fantasy novels are always beautiful or handsome; 2) elements (such as orcs, goblins, elves, the “Gift,” etc.) are stolen from other true fantasy novels and are entwined into the literature. My second belief is that you can always tell how good a fantasy novel will be by reading the first paragraph. If the book starts out by describing (a) the sunrise/the sunset, (b) a woman who is not the main character, or (c) clothing, 99 percent of the time, the book will be a sappy fantasy story The Waterless Sea fits none of these requirements. Unlike books such as Eragon (and now, Eldest) or the Alanna series, which perch precariously upon the brink of the cliff which leads down into the cavern of sappy fantasy, The Waterless Sea sits far removed in a secluded hamlet in the realm of true fantasy—a realm which is steadily shrinking. Kate Constable’s characters are bold and daring, yet not without weakness. One of the book’s main characters, Darrow, is deathly afraid of the responsibilities of leadership, mainly to try and prove to himself that he is not who his former-friend-now-archenemy, Samis, claims he is—a man hungry for power, a cohort in Samis’s quest to conquer the land of Tremaris. Yet the character who intrigues me the most is not Darrow, for all of his quiet strength. I am most interested instead by Calwyn, a young girl who grew up on a sheltered mountainside, yet who always dreamed of adventure. In this way, both Calwyn and I are alike. My home is an idyllic place—quiet, peaceful, and really very boring. I dream of traveling and going beyond just what I can see by taking the bus or walking out my front door. Just like Calwyn is, however, I fear that I will be disappointed by what I fmd there, wherever “there” may be. Calwyn dreams of the world as an exhilarating adventure abounding with opportunity and hope. What she finds is a sullen, twisted, reproduction of the world that existed in her imagination—where she is hated and despised for her ability to sing the ancient magic instead of loved and respected, where women are downtrodden and meek instead of considered men’s equals, where the rulers are corrupt and greedy while the poor starve in the grimy coastal towns. I fear that something like the disappointment that Calwyn went through will also happen to me . . . instead of the lush jungles that I imagined I will find burning stumps of trees; instead of soaring towers and turrets of ancient castles, I’ll find swarming tourists and graffiti. Perhaps I am too naive in my assumption that everything beautiful will stay as it is . . . but at least to protect the dreams of children we should be making more of an effort to make that which is beautiful also permanent. I recommend this book to readers aged nine to twelve. Also be sure to read The Waterless Sea’s prequel, The Singer of All Songs. Katherine Long,13Bellevue, Washington
Book-Reviews
The Truth About Sparrows
The Truth About Sparrows, by Marian Hale; Henry Holt and Company: New York, 2oo4; $16.95 The truth about sparrows takes you right back into the Great Depression. From the minute you open the book, all of Sadie Wynn’s burdens will be yours. From the very beginning: having to give up a home, the only home you’ve known all your life. Sadie has to deal with it all. The Wynns have to leave their wonderful farm in Missouri to go to Texas. On the way, they meet a girl, Dollie, and her family Dollie becomes Sadie’s friend throughout the story But to be true to Dollie, Sadie will have to let go of someone from the past: Wilma. Wilma is Sadie’s best friend back in Missouri. As you read the book, you discover what Sadie discovers: that even if you trust your friends so much, they could still dump you. I’ve had some experiences like that, including when a friend and I had too many play dates and always got annoyed at each other. Now we’re friends again. But even though Wilma promises to, she never writes to Sadie. Sadie sends her three letters and doesn’t hear back. Sadie thinks at one point, “Wilma could be anywhere. But mostly, she was gone.” In my favorite part of the story it’s Halloween night and Sadie and some friends tell ghost stories. The book really comes alive, like a personal experience. I’ve spent time making up funny stories with friends and it sure is a lot of fun. Sadie tells a story about Wilma’s brother who heard and even felt a ghost. I enjoyed that scene a lot. I guess you’re wondering why this book has its name. One day, a man comes by a tent the Wynns are living in. He asks if they’ll give him something to eat, and Sadie’s mama obliges. The next day, Sadie is mad and looks for a place to be alone. She startles a sparrow who flies to another perch. Then Sadie is startled by a movement in a cardboard box. She moves closer and sees that it’s the man her mother fed the day before. From then on she calls him Mr. Sparrow. I studied sparrows in first grade. They’re the sweetest, most ordinary birds. Perhaps that sweetness and ordinariness is the truth about sparrows, and the truth about the man whose life is so hard he lives in a box. There is a lot of talk about poverty in the book. Sadie overhears a conversation between a boy and his dad that really stayed with me. The dad describes ” . . . kids sleeping in the cold under Hoover blankets and scouring the dumps for food.” “What’s a Hoover blanket, Papa?” “A newspaper, son. Just a newspaper.” This book taught me a lot of history Hoover was a man who was President during part of the Depression. This is what I saw when I traveled to India. Poverty. India is filled with it. “Too many people and not enough jobs,” is another line from the book. Whenever you stop at a red light in Mumbai, kids will come to your car, trying to sell you something. Elderly men will ask you for money The Depression did that to people, too. This story will make you brood even after the last page is read. It has something to offer to everybody History, friendship, and the real preciousness of life. I recommend this book to everybody who reads this review! Julia Worcester,10Bronx, New York
47
47, by Walter Mosley; Little, Brown and Company: New York, 2oo5; $16.99 Walter Mosley pulls you into the heart of slavery in 1832. He depicts the brutality of slavery and the true meaning of freedom, through the eyes of Forty-seven, an orphaned fourteen-year-old slave. As a child, Forty-seven was taken under the wing of Big Mama Flore, a house slave, who sheltered him from the realities of slavery. The day arrives when Forty-seven is old enough to work in the cotton fields. He now faces the painful realities of slavery Tall John, a mysterious runaway slave, enters Forty-seven’s life. He helps Forty-seven see beyond the fate of slavery and teaches him to believe in freedom. I have never experienced the brutality of slavery, but as I was reading Mosley’s descriptions, I could feel Forty-seven’s pain; his burned shoulder from a branding iron, his infected hands from picking cotton, and his bleeding flesh from being bullwhipped. This book made me think of the grim stories that my grandparents passed on to me regarding the Armenian Genocide. Although there are obvious differences between slavery and genocide, there are some similarities—both groups of people suffered at the hands of others, and both lost freedom. Throughout this book, I could not stop thinking about freedom. Freedom, to me, is having independence and having the right to make decisions and choices. I find it incomprehensible that freedom was taken from some individuals and some still do not have it today. Forty-seven craves freedom once Tall John introduces him to it. He experiences freedom in two ways. First, Tall John informs Forty-seven that by considering yourself a slave, you are. If you say that you have a master, then you do. Forty-seven finally learns that he “ain’t got no mastuh ’cause (he) ain’t no slave.” A second way that Tall John introduces freedom to Forty-seven is by taking him to “paradise.” In paradise, Forty-seven is elated and shocked that such beauty and tranquility exists. This is where he tastes freedom for the first time. Now that he learned the meaning and the taste of freedom, Forty-seven is willing to risk everything to acquire freedom for himself, and for the ones he loves. Walter Mosley’s writing style captivates me. He takes one character, such as Tall John, and changes his personality. When Forty-seven and Tall John first meet, Forty-seven is overwhelmed with his language skills and forwardness. When white men confront Tall John, he is reserved. His personality changes again when Tall John talks to the men in the slave quarters, this time in a humorous way Mosley gives Tall John a sense of humor to lighten up the cruelty of slavery. Tall John’s changing character is a creative feature of Mosley’s writing style which is very well portrayed in the novel. As much as this book absorbed me, I did not like how Mosley combined two genres—historical fiction and science fiction. The science fiction portions of the book caught me off guard and took away from the shocking historical truth about slavery. With all of these painfully unsympathetic scenes in the book, the supernatural scenes do not fit. 47 is a great read for those who enjoy historical fiction narratives with deep meaning. Mosley’s comprehensive characters pulled me into Forty-seven’s world and let me think about emotions that I never thought about before. Tall John helped Forty-seven, as well as me, uncover the true meaning of freedom. Lara Gechijian, 13Lincoln, Massachusetts
