Darkwood, by M.E. Breen; Bloomsbury Children’s Books: New York, 2009; $16.99 “What happened next was so strange that Annie could not be sure afterward what was real and what she had imagined.” This line, from M. E. Breen’s Darkwood, is an accurate summary of Breen’s first novel. The story is a wonderful sort of strange, and captivates the mind like any work of a master fantasy writer. Annie Trewitt’s story begins in Howland, a dark little town in the depths of Dour County where “kinderstalk” prowl the nighttime woods searching for humans and animals to prey on. Annie lives with her prim aunt and odious, ill-tempered uncle. Her parents and sister have been “killed,” or so it seems. The beginning of the story has a bleak and mysterious tone to it. The plot initially is a bit confusing but quickly unwinds itself to a comprehensible state. Throughout the first few chapters, the mood increasingly chills as Annie’s adventure takes her to the dreaded woods—at night. Some of the feelings that Annie experiences in the beginning are loneliness and desperation. Her only true companions at the start are her wise and unfailingly loyal cats, Isadore and Prudence, whose characters are portrayed so well that the reader forgets, at times, that they are not human. I found this bleak loneliness at the start of the story to be overwhelming, but as the story progresses, Annie’s character grows easier to identify with. Breen captures the experiences of a young girl who is almost completely alone in a frightening world, but who somehow manages to function instinctively, and to be passionate and admirably brave. A great snapshot is the line “But now—now she could hardly bear ever having resented Page for anything.” Annie lost her beloved sister, Page, years before the story takes place, but still constantly aches for her. I knew exactly how Annie felt: she could not even consider resenting her sister because of anything, now that she had lost her. My favorite part of the story was how Annie’s family was slowly pieced back together, and her fascinating relationship with the “kinderstalk,” which reworked the typical animal-human relationships found in today’s youth fiction. However, a major theme in this novel is also corruption and evil. Most of the adults in the story are strong antagonists. The lack of positive adult characters adds to the chill of the plot. Annie almost always found a way to fight back against these seemingly stronger villains and eventually triumph. I can relate to Annie’s audacity and rebelliousness. Often in school I am the one to speak up when an assignment is unclear or unfair to my classmates and me. Audacity and courage are always involved. At one point, Annie goes to work at the Drop, the mine where children are forced to mine ringstone (a valuable stone) alongside adults. However, Annie does not cower in fear when ruthless adults yell at her. She realizes that something very wrong is going on at the mine, and she eventually makes her escape. I was impressed with Darkwood. The plot is entertainingly complex yet comprehensible, and features the perfect mix of chill, suspense, and triumph. My only complaint about Darkwood is that it will leave you begging for a sequel. Caroline D. Lu, 13Andover, Massachusetts
Book-Reviews
Do You Hear Me, Mr. Lincoln?
Do You Hear Me, Mr. Lincoln? by Judith Caseley; Graphia Books: New York, 2009; $6.99 Life has changed for Sierra Goodman after the death of her father. Her grieving mother has gone into a house-cleaning rage, her brother is too young to interpret how she feels and suffers nightmares, and her friends are clueless about how she feels. With no one to turn to, Sierra gets comfort from a portrait of Abraham Lincoln. It was a meaningful gift her father wanted her to have. Lincoln seems to be the only one to hear Sierra’s pain and help her move on. That’s why Sierra talked to the portrait about what she felt, even though it couldn’t talk back. After her father died, Sierra impatiently longed to return to her normal routine, but her mother resisted. She wanted to have family time again instead of just watching her mother clean all day. Sierra was very close to her father. Sierra’s entire family was grieved. Her Aunt Rose said that God took a diamond away from them. Moreover, the relationship between Sierra and her best friend, Eli, was growing apart. Sierra didn’t know why. It got worse when she found out that she’d have to act in a play as Mary Todd Lincoln while Eli acted as Abraham Lincoln. The play was like a reminder to Sierra when they acted the death of Lincoln. It reminded her of her father’s death. Both he and Lincoln died unexpectedly, even though her father was not shot. As I read about Sierra’s problems, I felt sad and would hate it if I were in that situation. However, I’ve felt tragedy too. I was quite young when my grandfather died, and I’d been very close to him. It hurt me a lot to lose him because I was always able to express myself to him. One day, like a missile flying by, my grandfather was gone. It had happened suddenly and it was shocking. Similar to Sierra, I had no one to get comfort from. So I wrote in my diary for comfort because I felt relieved being able to express myself. Sierra, however, got comfort from a portrait. We can relate because we both know how to find comfort at times when we’re down. My personal favorite part of the story was the play about Lincoln’s death. I liked it because it was for me the high point of the story. In that scene Sierra really expressed herself a lot. The play related to Sierra because Lincoln’s death reminded her of her father’s death. Both of their legs hung off the gurney because they were so tall. Sierra lost her father, and Mary Todd Lincoln lost her husband. They both lost people who were important to them. Another aspect of the story I liked is the way the story shows how diverse the world is today. In the story, Sierra’s mother is Cuban and her father is Jewish. They are bringing two cultures together with no discrimination. I like this. It makes me feel that the world is changing. People can join from different parts of the world and get along. Sierra Goodman’s grief is one I will always remember because I have never seen somebody overcome their grief so strongly. When I read this incredible story all I could think is “WOW.” It is a great piece of literature. I enjoyed this book of a long journey of sadness. I learned that there are challenges you face in life but you have to overcome. I think it’s the best book I’ve ever read. Nayamah Kolliegbo, 13Willingboro, New Jersey
The Crimson Cap
The Crimson Cap, by Ellen Howard; Holiday House Books for Young People: New York, 2009; $16.95 Growing up is something we all do at one time or another. I just stumbled upon Pierre Talon when he was in the middle of the process. He looked at me with sad, intense eyes surrounded by tattooed charcoal dots and crowned with a fraying crimson cap. He introduced himself as I read the covers of Ellen Howard’s The Crimson Cap. His “voice” was dry and humorless. Through it I heard traces of French, Hasinai Indian, and Spanish languages that he had picked up one-by-one throughout the book. Why did I take this book home in the first place? The little French woven into the excerpt on the back of the book caught my full attention. Because I speak a good bit of French, the wonderful job the author does at using a tiny salting of it had a magnetic pull on me. Then I discovered, with the delight of a historian who has just found an ancient prize, that the book was based on a true story! At once I snuggled down with glee (I love historical fiction) to read my newest book. Pierre Talon, a French boy in the expedition of Monsieur de La Salle, must leave his family in the French settlement when he’s only eight years old. Then, in six years, his life takes many strange (and alarming!) turns. His crimson cap stands for the time that passes and the changes he faces. Every time he takes it off it’s a fainter shade of red. He is continually shocked by how different it has become—how different he has become. He then looks at what has happened in his life and has a choice to make: to despair, or rejoice. Should he stay with the Hasinai Indians? Is there any reason to go back and search for his siblings? I am a born-and-raised American. I also have grown up in a wonderful, loving home in the twenty-first century. So I was surprised to find, no matter how vastly different our lives are, that Pierre and I are very much alike. In a way, I have a “crimson cap” too. On a hill off our front yard, there’s a beautiful box elder tree that’s been there since I knew what a tree was. If I think as far back in my memory as I can reach, the tree was a sapling with a thin trunk, spindly branches and very light green leaves. But over the years, it has grown thick and tall and a richer shade of green has replaced the old lime hue. I’m continually shocked by how different it has become—how different I have become. And I face that same choice: to despair, or rejoice. In The Crimson Cap, Pierre is forced to dwell among teens and grown-ups from the time he’s only eight years old. Having two older sisters, I’m a lot like Pierre. Growing up is a doubly challenging process when, like me and Pierre, you’re raised in a more mature, experienced setting. Sometimes I find myself feeling small and young, and other times I feel very grown up. Pierre says to his sister in the book that he and she are branded by their sufferings, not by any marks they wear on their face. I believe that everyone is branded in some way: their own history, or their family’s. I am branded by the family and friends I love, who have left their mark on my biggest crimson cap—my memory—by the ways they have loved me. Love and suffering are the two noblest brands anyone can ever have. As you can see by now, this book has made me think very hard about my life. It’s a potent read that no thinker and French speaker, like me (and like the main character), should pass up! Beth Demske, 12Lawrence, Michigan
