Twice bestirred, twice entangled in human affairs (An Older Kind of Magic, The Nargun and the Stars), the earth-spirits Wrightson has invoked from Australian aboriginal lore are now ubiquitous, a primordial underground—whose rising, previously an incident, takes on the dimensions and import of a Flood. Or, in the careless heat of an Australian Christmas season, of an incipient ice age. On the continent's green edges live the Happy Folk; scattered behind are the Inlanders and the land's own dark-skinned People (with appropriate eco-moral values: the coastal city dwellers, the residents of the outback, and the Aborigines). An icy blast in the desert, the local People's knowledge of the ice-bearded, clamorous Ninya ("No men left to sing them back into their caves")—plus newspaper reports of sudden, approaching frosts—take young Wirrun of the People from his city gasstation job to fight the peril that only he recognizes. As sidekick he has the petulant, wispy Mimi, stick-figure femme fatale; for protection, the Power bestowed by the first of the creatures in their path. Wirrun has sent for the men from Mount Conner to sing the Ninya down; what he must also do, he learns, is beat the Ninya to the Eldest Nargun, source of fire, and rouse it to hold them until the men arrive. In the final seaside reckoning, however, the liveliest part is played by some Aboriginals Wirrun enlists—and by an observant Inlander tipped off because, for once, he sees the People "brisk and in good humor." Apart from the Happy Folk caricature, Wrightson does well by her character mix—even allowing the Mimi, most sensitive of spirits, to remind Wirrun of "the curious thing that men were made for: to care." The levity and sentiment are a relief from the ponderousness—itself redeemed, in large measure, by Wrightson's precise, muscular writing.
Pub Date: Sept. 9, 1977
ISBN: 0345332482
Page Count: 208
Publisher: Atheneum
Review Posted Online: May 11, 2012
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 1, 1977
Broccoli: No way is James going to eat broccoli. “It’s disgusting,” says James. Well then, James, says his father, let’s consider the alternatives: some wormy dirt, perhaps, some stinky socks, some pre-chewed gum? James reconsiders the broccoli, but—milk? “Blech,” says James. Right, says his father, who needs strong bones? You’ll be great at hide-and-seek, though not so great at baseball and kickball and even tickling the dog’s belly. James takes a mouthful. So it goes through lumpy oatmeal, mushroom lasagna and slimy eggs, with James’ father parrying his son’s every picky thrust. And it is fun, because the father’s retorts are so outlandish: the lasagna-making troll in the basement who will be sent back to the rat circus, there to endure the rodent’s vicious bites; the uneaten oatmeal that will grow and grow and probably devour the dog that the boy won’t be able to tickle any longer since his bones are so rubbery. Schneider’s watercolors catch the mood of gentle ribbing, the looks of bewilderment and surrender and the deadpanned malarkey. It all makes James’ father’s last urging—“I was just going to say that you might like them if you tried them”—wholly fresh and unexpected advice. (Early reader. 5-9)
Pub Date: May 1, 2011
ISBN: 978-0-547-14956-1
Page Count: 48
Publisher: Clarion Books
Review Posted Online: April 4, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 1, 2011
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
An absorbing fantasy centered on a resilient female protagonist facing growth, change, and self-empowerment.
In Florence’s middle-grade fantasy novel, a young girl’s heart is tested in the face of an evil, spreading Darkness.
Eleven-year-old Lydia, “freckle-cheeked and round-eyed, with hair the color of pine bark and fair skin,” is struggling with the knowledge that she has reached the age to apprentice as an herbalist. Lydia is reluctant to leave her beloved, magical Mulberry Glen and her cozy Housetree in the woods—she’ll miss Garder, the Glen’s respected philosopher; her fairy guardian Pit; her human friend Livy; and even the mischievous part-elf, part-imp, part-human twins Zale and Zamilla. But the twins go missing after hearing of a soul-sapping Darkness that has swallowed a forest and is creeping into minds and engulfing entire towns. They have secretly left to find a rare fruit that, it is said, will stop the Darkness if thrown into the heart of the mountain that rises out of the lethal forest. Lydia follows, determined to find the twins before they, too, fall victim to the Darkness. During her journey, accompanied by new friends, she gradually realizes that she herself has a dangerous role to play in the quest to stop the Darkness. In this well-crafted fantasy, Florence skillfully equates the physical manifestation of Darkness with the feelings of insecurity and powerlessness that Lydia first struggles with when thinking of leaving the Glen. Such negative thoughts grow more intrusive the closer she and her friends come to the Darkness—and to Lydia’s ultimate, powerfully rendered test of character, which leads to a satisfyingly realistic, not quite happily-ever-after ending. Highlights include a delightfully haunting, reality-shifting library and a deft sprinkling of Latin throughout the text; Pit’s pet name for Lydia is mea flosculus (“my little flower”). Fine-lined ink drawings introducing each chapter add a pleasing visual element to this well-grounded fairy tale.
An absorbing fantasy centered on a resilient female protagonist facing growth, change, and self-empowerment.Pub Date: Jan. 7, 2025
ISBN: 9781956393095
Page Count: 288
Publisher: Waxwing Books
Review Posted Online: Oct. 14, 2024
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2025
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
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