When Netflix’s Shadow and Bone television show premiered in April of this year, it was immediately met with overwhelming success. The fantasy show amassed over one billion viewership minutes in its second week of release! Thus, it came as no surprise that many of my friends were die-hard fans. Over the months, I saw the show, quite literally, everywhere: on social media, in the news, and especially in my friends’ moony-eyed text messages. I was skeptical, however. Being more of a book than a film person, I decided to pick up the novel that the show was based on in the first place: Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo. When I say this book did not disappoint, I say it wholeheartedly. Shadow and Bone is a fantasy novel set in the lavish kingdom of Ravka, where a magical elite called Grisha wield coveted powers. But, the kingdom is plagued by a dark, mysterious land called the Fold. Countless ships, people, and Grisha have gone missing while trying to cross the Fold because of the man-eating creatures—volcra—that reside there. But people still cling to the hope of a Sun Summoner. The Summoner is believed to be a Grisha who will eradicate the Fold and restore peace to the land at last. When seventeen-year-old Alina Starkov is called to journey across the Fold, she is seized with terror. Not only is she scared for herself, but she fears for the safety of her best friend since childhood, Mal. She might not admit it, but she has come to develop feelings for him that go beyond friendship. So when Mal is brutally injured in a horrifying volcra attack mid-journey, Alina unknowingly unleashes a power that saves his life. Before Alina can even comprehend what she has done, a mysterious Grisha named the Darkling whisks her away to train along with the rest of the Grisha as the most powerful of them all: the long-awaited Sun Summoner. I loved every minute of reading Shadow and Bone! The worldbuilding, a rich tapestry of friends, foes, kingdoms, and language, was fantastic. And I loved the language influences so much—they established the vibe of the story. I haven’t read a solid fantasy book in quite a while, and this book reminded me of how lovely and well-crafted they usually are. While the entire story was such fun to read, the ending was what truly had my heart racing. I genuinely struggled with having to put this book down and go to sleep when I was in the middle of the climax. There was so much suspense and emotion that I was full to bursting, and even when I finished the book, I had to close my eyes and mentally recollect myself. There aren’t many books that can do that, so it was truly a thrilling and memorable experience! On the downside, one of the weakest parts of the book was the romance. Mal is the main love interest in the story; however, his relationship with Alina is terribly underdeveloped. Mal wasn’t present for the majority of Shadow and Bone, so it was hard to root for him as a friend and love interest when I didn’t see him interact with Alina frequently. All I saw was Alina pining for him and writing letters that he never responded to. Not the most electrifying relationship. Overall, Shadow and Bone was an exquisite fantasy novel that merits a full five-star rating. I look forward to finishing the trilogy and seeing how the show measures up to the novel. This is truly a story that deserves to be adapted on-screen. Thank you for this masterpiece, Leigh Bardugo! Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo. Square Fish, 2o13. Buy the book here and support Stone Soup in the process!
Young Bloggers
My Encounter with Nelson Mandela, a short story by Olivia Shekou, 12
My Encounter with Nelson Mandela Olivia Shekou, 12 Just last week, I flew to New York to visit my aunt, a lawyer for the United Nations who speaks three official languages of the United Nations. She allowed me access to the United Nations’ library for the day while she was working on an international human rights case. So, there I was, sitting at an ornate wooden desk at the lavishly decorated United Nations library. The soft glow of the tabletop candelabra illuminated the book that sat right at my fingertips. I was surprised to discover it was a copy of Laaren Brown and Lenny Hort’s biography of Nelson Mandela. As I questioned whether I was dreaming or awake, I reached for the biography to find out whether it was tangible or just an illusion. As soon as I reached for it, Nelson Mandela suddenly stepped out of the biography like a holographic Star Wars action figure. The sixty-year-old man’s brown eyes and chocolate skin gently framed his white hair. When he smiled at me, I noticed three creases on his forehead and around each eye. I gaped in awe, unable to believe what I was seeing. Was this really him or was I hallucinating? He reassured me that he wasn’t a holographic transmission but that he had time-traveled from South Africa from the year 1980. But how was this possible? Nelson Mandela was born on July 18, 1918 in the village of Mvezo in the Eastern Cape of South Africa. Had he been alive today, he would be 102 years old! He passed away at age 95 in December of 2013 and since then, the United Nations commemorates his birthday as the Nelson Mandela International Day, celebrated each year on July 18th in his honor. But there he was standing before me, cerebral-looking yet casually dressed, while smiling and radiating a warm peaceful glow. He was wearing a colorful shirt, matching shorts, and looked as if he had just come back from a tropical vacation. He reminded me of my grandfather, with his slightly hunched posture and his friendly handshake. I looked Nelson Mandela in the eye and he returned my gaze. Diverting my gaze to his feet, I noticed his bright blue flip flops. Had he just come from a peace rally in a tropical destination? Who exactly was this man? Nelson Mandela lived a long purposeful life combatting apartheid and racial segregation in South Africa. His 40-year battle against segregation began in Johannesburg, where he faced backlash from the government for protesting against apartheid laws that segregated the Black citizens of South Africa. Nelson Mandela was known for his peaceful protests against apartheid through an organization called the African National Congress. The government banned his organization, forcing him to create a secret army called “Spear of the Nation,” and he became South Africa’s most wanted fugitive. He was hunted down by the police and had to hide and disguise himself. In 1962, Nelson Mandela was arrested and sentenced to life in prison on the brutal Robben Island for conspiring to overthrow South Africa’s government. Nelson Mandela overcame many hardships while confined to a small cell without a bed or plumbing, all the while being subjected to hard labor in a quarry. During his time at Robben Island, he was only allowed one visitor a year and was restricted from writing letters more than once every few months. However, he stayed committed to stopping apartheid by leading protests from within prison while also demanding better conditions for inmates. Nelson Mandela spent 27 years in prison. In 1990, he was finally pardoned from prison and, by 1994, all Black people in South Africa were able to vote for the first time. He is considered one of the most significant political figures today because of his efforts to end racism and apartheid. And here I was looking right at him with my mouth gaping wide. I knew of Nelson Mandela as a peaceful visionary who could see the big picture as well as the end goal of what he was fighting for. He was also forgiving and showed the world what forgiveness looks like. I asked him about his time in prison and how it felt to be treated as a criminal for fighting against racism and apartheid. “As I walked out of the prison door toward the gate that would lead to my freedom, I knew if I didn’t leave my bitterness and hatred behind, I’d still be in prison,” he said. Nelson Mandela was a freedom fighter to his core, fighting for the freedom and democratic rights of Black citizens of South Africa. In doing so, he had to let go of his own anger toward his wrongdoers in order to stand for his cause. He didn’t seek revenge or self-glory and didn’t hold on to anger. He used nonviolent protests against the South African government and its racist policies, setting the ultimate example of a nonviolent civil rights activist. Nelson Mandela was also a fearless leader. Leaders everywhere should study him, his conviction to fairness and his ability to peacefully protest against the injustices of apartheid. He had all the characteristics of a great leader that helped shape a more democratic South Africa. Even from prison, he never accepted failure or defeat. For this reason, he is one of the most significant and impactful political activists of our recent past. In honor of Nelson Mandela’s memory, Mr. Ban, Chief of the United Nations, said that “Through his extraordinary life, Mr. Mandela showed that tyranny and oppression never have the last word. That is the heritage of hope he bestowed upon every one of us.” “What’s going on and why are you here?” I inquired. “Well, when you opened the biography of me, you brought back my 62-year-old self who had lived out eighteen years in prison. I had a bad feeling about the year 2020 and felt that the American people needed me. Plus, I needed a
The Early Bird May Catch the Worm, but It’s Never Too Late to Get into the Game, a personal narrative by Phoenix Crucillo, 12
Phoenix Crucillo, 12 (Los Angeles, CA) The Early Bird May Catch the Worm, but It’s Never Too Late to Get into the Game Phoenix Crucillo, 12 It was the day our baseball team had worked so hard for—the Little League Championship Game. Over the last four months, twenty teams had competed vigorously to earn one of two coveted spots for the championship game. And I was on one of those teams — the Braves! It was the bottom of the ninth inning, and our team was down by one run with two outs and the bases loaded. It was now my turn to bat. The sun scorched its hot rays down my back. My thick mask itched, and I longed to rub my nose on one of the long sleeves I wore underneath my jersey. Still, none of these irritations came close to the unease I felt as I walked up to the plate. I took a deep breath before crouching into my batting stance. My heart pounded through my chest. After studying the catcher’s signs carefully, the pitcher nodded in acknowledgement of their secret language. Just then, the pitcher adjusted his grip on the seams, lifted his front leg, and released the ball…. … If someone had told me four months earlier that I’d be playing in the championship, I wouldn’t have believed them. I’d never played baseball before. It all started one seemingly ordinary day…. After a long day of school, I waited for my mom to pick me up. All the other kids had already gone. “Um, should I call my mom?” I asked my teacher. “If you feel the need,” he smirked. Just then, she pulled up. I stuffed my belongings in the car, eager to go home and relax with my favorite video game before tackling my homework. Just as I was getting comfortable, she spoke the words that would change my life. “I signed you up for a baseball team,” she said nonchalantly. “Your soccer season doesn’t start until spring, so I thought you might enjoy another sport in the meantime.” “But Mom, I don’t want to go! Kids in that league have been playing their whole lives! It’s not a place for beginners like me! It’s too hard to start playing a new sport like this. Like you always say, ‘the early bird catches the worm,’ so starting baseball at twelve years old will make me the early worm… who’ll get eaten!” She chuckled and just kept driving to the baseball field. I knew it was useless to protest, so I surrendered to my fate. As we pulled up to the field, I saw something that shocked me like a horror movie. The players were warming up on a massively daunting field, talking and laughing as if they’d known each other all their lives. Oh no, they already know each other. Now I’m never going to make friends. And this field is so gigantic! How am I ever going to play on this?! “Alright!” yelled the coach in a southern accent. “Let’s all sit down in a circle and introduce ourselves.” “I’m Phoenix,” I said meekly. No one else needed an introduction. They all knew each other. Just as I thought. Time for fielding practice. I didn’t even know what that was, but I followed along. “Alright. The drill is simple. Get the ground ball I hit to you and throw to first base. Once you’re done, get back in line and wait until it’s your turn again,” Coach instructed. Like a chameleon, I stood in the middle of the line in a feeble attempt not to stand out as a beginner. The first player fielded the ball flawlessly and threw it like a dart to the first baseman. Each of my teammates fielded Coach’s hits with precision. Obviously, they had been playing this game for many years. Now it was my turn. I tried to pick up the ball that Coach hit my way, but I completely failed. “Coach, may I have another one?” I yelled so he could hear. “Sure thing,” he said as he hit a ground ball softer off his wood bat. I picked it up, almost stumbling, and threw it too far to the right of the first baseman. Oh, no! I’ll never make it! “Hey, are you new?” one of the bigger kids asked me. “Yeah, why?” “Oh, that’s why,” he mumbled to himself. My heart sank. “Okay now, next are fly balls. So go into the outfield and wait,” Coach instructed. Within minutes, a fly ball came soaring straight at me. Oh, no! Could this day get any worse? There’s no way I’m going to catch this, I thought as I raised my open glove into the air. Thud! I looked into my glove, where, to my astonishment, I saw the ball tucked away in the supple brown leather. Yeeeessss! Maybe I’m not so terrible after all. “Team, meet our new outfielder!” Coach proclaimed enthusiastically. His words magically erased my teammate’s earlier comment. A few weeks later, it was time for our first game. I felt so unprepared. Mom dropped me off at the batting cages, where I watched each of my teammates hit every ball pitched to them. Now, it was my turn. As hard as I focused, the pitches roared past me. There was something about these pitches that made them impossible to connect with. I felt lucky to hit a couple of balls. “Okay, that’s enough warm-up. It’s game time,” Coach yelled. One by one, we eagerly entered the dugout like a line of army ants ready for duty. Suddenly, Coach called out the batting lineup. My cheeks burned with embarrassment, and I suddenly broke out into a cold sweat when he called my name last. “Why am I last?” I asked. “I put you last because this is your first game. The other kids have more experience.” I listened, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the ground where they
