Outcasts of River Falls (2012), by Jacqueline Guest

This review was first published in Resource Links Magazine, “Canada’s national journal devoted to the review and evaluation of Canadian English and French resources for children and young adults.” It appears in volume 18.1.

Outcasts of River Falls

The Red River Resistance (or Rebellion) of 1869, the North-West Resistance (or Rebellion) of 1885; these are pivotal moments in Canada’s history. In the first act of resistance, Métis leaders Louis Riel and Gabrielle Dumont succeeded in establishing a provisional government and treating with the Canadian Government (although it ultimately did not go so very well); in the second, the Métis were completely defeated, and Louis Riel was hanged for high treason. So much is well known, but after the North-West Resistance the fate of the Métis people slips into the fog of history, silenced by a loud English-speaking voice from the politically powerful East. In Outcasts of River Falls, Jacqueline Guest creates a strong voice for the Métis people, telling a small part of their history in a way that young readers will not only learn from, but enjoy.
In Belle of Batoche (2004), Guest introduces us to Belle Tourond, who during the North-West Resistance comes to recognize her own fortitude and abilities. In Outcast of River Falls, Belle helps her young niece Katy discover her own strength and establish a pride in being Métis. Raised in Toronto without any knowledge of her Métis heritage, the orphaned Kathryn is sent to Alberta to join her Aunt Belle. Landed in a strange and hostile environment, Katy must not only learn a new culture, but adjust her sense-of-self to incorporate her new social position as one of the Road Allowance People: the Métis, who were not permitted to own land and so lived on the government-owned road allowances (that is, until someone White or otherwise privileged wanted the land). Katy’s confusion, the mistakes she makes, the questions she has but is afraid to ask: all ring true. Her position as not-visibly Métis complicates her experiences, and helps her—and the reader—truly understand the evils of prejudice and bigotry. The plot involves a mysterious Robin Hood figure who has been righting some of the smaller injustices perpetrated against the Métis people. Add in a crooked, offensive police officer, and a murdered bank guard, and you have the recipe for a culturally sensitive situation to which, ultimately, Katy must actively contribute. In acting to save her Aunt Belle, Katy finally accepts her true heritage: she ends with her Toronto dreams of being a lawyer firmly reestablished, but now altered: she will not only be a female lawyer on the vanguard of Canadian social progress, but a female Métis lawyer, bound by conscience to fight for the rights of her people.
Outcasts of River Falls comes with an effective Novel Study Guide, which includes synopses of the chapters as well as activities (for example, a 1900 Eaton catalogue to price purchases Katy might have made) and thoughtful study questions. This very engaging novel combined with the study guide will help elementary school teachers of early Canadian history immensely.

The Secret of Willow Castle (1966), by Lyn Cook

Not long ago, I was out in Ontario celebrating the 100^th anniversary of the War of 1812, staying in Brant County, one-time home to Sara Jeannette Duncan, E. Pauline Johnson, Adelaide Hoodless, and other notable early Canadian women. Although Brantford was fascinating, I was rather sad that it lies so far from Westport, up near Kingston, where author Lyn Cook still lives. I have spoken to Lyn Cook a number of times by telephone; she is a delightful woman: sharp, engaging, knowledgeable, and with a sense of humour that makes me really want to meet her in person. But alas, on this last trip, it was not to be. The next best thing, though, was visiting the… bookstore? library? home? of Mr. Nelson Ball, who has been slowly selling off his Canadiana library over the years, and who had a store of Lyn Cook first editions. Having already depleted my book budget, I could only choose one, so I purchased The Secret of Willow Castle, the favourite childhood book of Lisa Wood, my host in Brantford. She loved this book so much, she tells me, that she forced her parents to take her to Napanee, to see where it takes place. Doubtless Napanee has changed since 1834, but one always hopes to find something of the story still lingering…

For The Secret of Willow Castle is based on real people: Henrietta MacPherson and her family existed; she appears on both the 1861 and 1871 Canadian census records, still living with her parents. A comment in the end matter of the book tells us that “in the town of Napanee, Ontario, Henrietta’s home still stands now, as it did in 1834, on the river bank looking towards the falls. The mills are gone but a plaque in a hillside park marks their place, and the willows still trail their branches in the quiet waters of the pond.” The house is in fact now the Napanee town museum, with its own website. So too is there ample historical evidence of Henrietta’s cousin John Alex, who weaves his way in and out of her life, an inspiration to her growing sense of honour and responsibility. John Alex is in fact John Alexander MacDonald, destined to be the first Prime Minister of Canada. There are sufficient indications of his growing political acumen, and discussion of his future should he choose to enter politics, but never is he firmly identified. The unaware reader does not stumble over the politics in the story, which are natural comments made by the adults, not ideologies masking as narrative. Politics are only interesting to Henrietta because she is a curious child who wants to know what the adults around her are discussing. The reader, like Henrietta, learns just enough to stay interested: “’Tis not usual for young ladies of eleven to be interested in politics, childie, but if you want to know, I’ll tell you” (31), her father tells her, and includes her in his discussion with John Alex about William MacKenzie’s leadership, couching his discussion in terms that young Henrietta will understand.

Despite its extensive and solid connection with Canada’s real history, I read The Secret of Willow Castle with no introduction other than that a friend had liked it. I knew nothing of the history of Napanee, or its connection to John A. MacDonald or Canadian history as a whole. To me, The Secret of Willow Castle was an entrancing story of a young girl being raised by an affluent and morally honourable family in the early 1830s. The tone of the novel reminded me of Louisa May Alcott’s Eight Cousins (1875), undoubtedly my favourite book as a girl, as the sense of a young girl needing to learn her place in the world, not only as a woman but as a member of an entitled family, resonates in both.

The story begins with young Henrietta MacPherson—having recently celebrated her 11^th birthday—awaiting the arrival of her favourite cousin, John Alex. John Alex brings her a present, but in her excitement, she demands that she receive it immediately. The moral current of the novel is set here, for her father allows her to open the present, but not to actually use it until she learns to behave in a more controlled manner. John Alex agrees, noting that she will learn such control as she grows older. While Henrietta is not—and does not become—a meek, obedient child, such as this scene might suggest both the author and the parents would like, she does learn both control and responsibility through the course of the story. Allowed to accompany her father to the gristmill they own, she discovers a mysterious new friend, Sarah, who has created a “secret castle” in a willow tree by the river. The girls become fast friends, hiding notes in the tree when they cannot meet, but contriving to meet whenever they can. The friendship between the girls is the underlying thread that weaves through the other events in Henrietta’s story: being barred from a skating party; attending a fair; meeting the neighbour’s slave, Jim, and questioning the morality of his situation; helping to settle a long-standing feud with another family; visiting the local wise woman for medical aid; being surprised with a trip on a river schooner; and participating in the day-to-day life of young girls in the mid 1800s. The girls’ lives are thrown into turmoil, though, when Sarah, an orphan servant to a neighbour, is at risk of being sent away to a family fallen on hard times. Just as the crisis reaches its climax, Henrietta falls dangerously ill.  Narrative expectation tells us that all must work out in the end, and the reader can almost—but not quite—see the path of Sarah and Henrietta’s story before it unfolds. There is no overarching dramatic tension in the story—despite a few tense scenes—but drama and excitement are not the point of The Secret of Willow Castle. This novel has significantly more substance than the faster-paced sensationalist story often written for youth today. The Secret of Willow Castle is both an extremely well researched and seemingly faithful representation of early Canadian life, and a heart-warming portrayal of a young girl’s growth into a strong, liberal-minded young woman to whom friendship and family remain paramount.

Awake and Dreaming (1996), by Kit Pearson

Theodora is the daughter of a single mother who is barely managing to keep herself—never mind her child—in food and clothing.  Theo dreams of having a real family, of not being a pariah at each of the subsequent schools she is sent to as her mother moves from place to place, bad job to bad job, all within Vancouver.  On the ferry to Victoria, when Theo’s mother is taking her to her Aunt’s home—giving Theo away so she can be with her new boyfriend—Theo falls into a dream of being with a family: but the dream is real.  She begins to fade in her new life, though, and awakes, still on the ferry.  Arriving in Victoria at her aunt’s, she finds that the life she knew, the family she was part of, do exist, but are not as ideal as in her waking dream. It is not until she meets the ghost of the author in whose house the family lives that she begins to understand what had happened to her.  Her new knowledge gives her the strength to stop only dreaming, and to work to make her own, real-life situation more endurable.

Despite others’ glowing reviews of this text, and an almost universal lauding of Pearson’s plot and technique, Awake and Dreaming is not—in my opinion—one of Pearson’s best. It does, however, present a unique premise and interesting relationship between the text and the real world.

Wishing Star Summer (2001), by Beryl Young

A simple text telling of the visit of a young Belarus girl suffering from the unhealthy atmosphere of the post-Chernobyl landscape.  Tanya comes to Vancouver on a relief program to stay with Jillian Nelson and her family, but despite wanting to have a friend badly, Jillian finds it difficult to be a friend. The story is written with a young beginning reader in mind (ages 6-8?)—or rather, the narrative voice is simplistic enough that older readers will find it too young.  The highlight of the story is not in the plot, but in Beryl Young’s insightful portrayal of the tensions between the protagonist and her Belarus guest: I don’t think I have ever read a text which manages to portray the protagonist so successfully as a jealous, spoilt, 11-year-old and yet retain my interest and affection for the girl.  The characterization of the other members of the cast is equally powerful, and raise an otherwise banal and predictable story to one worth reading and sharing.

Return to Bone Tree Hill (2009), by Kristin Butcher

I found this book on my shelf. I have no idea where it came from, but I suspect from my friend Rob, who also reviews YA literature, being far more active in the children’s and YA academic literary scene than I am. If so, I will have to thank him, as it was a fascinating novel.
Set in Victoria, BC, Return to Bone Tree Hill appeals through the careful and affectionate descriptions of places that any local and even most visitors would recognize. Yet neither the title place—Bone Tree Hill—nor the opening scenes of the novel smack of local colour. In the opening lines, we are plunged into 18-year-old Jessica’s recurring dream: nightmare, in fact. Through her first-person description of the sleeplessness and trauma it is causing, we come to know Jess as a clever, caring girl, recently returned from six years with her family in Australia. Their emigration had been delayed for a number of weeks due to Jess’s contracting meningitis, which has left her with days of blankness in her childhood memories.  In this memory chasm lie the clues to Jess’s dream, a dream of murder and betrayed affection, emotions swirling together—inseparable—in Jess’s faulty, feverish memories. With the help of her pragmatic best friend Jilly, Jess struggles to regain the memories that she feels point to her murder of a childhood friend; given the strength of her dream, she can believe no other explanation.
Kristin Butcher presents her readers with clues carefully delivered to Jess’s increasingly troubled psyche in a way that is natural and believable. While one could anticipate paranormal elements at the outset, vision and reality slowly coalesce in Jess’s world until she and Jilly—and the readers—fully understand what happened on that fateful evening six years earlier. There is nothing paranormal in Jess’s recovered memory: only horror and fear and sadness.
Young readers who want a mystery with a solution that cannot easily be divined will really enjoy Return to Bone Tree Hill. It has all the right elements: protagonists who do not step out of believable activities for teens; a crime that is plausible and practicable; a solution that arises through natural processes. All is explained, and explained well; but that does not mean you will guess the end before you get there.

Neil Flambé and the Crusader’s Curse (2012), by Kevin Sylvester

You won’t be able to buy this one quite yet. It is set for release on May 8th. You can pre-order copies from the large online retailers, or (my preference) KidsBooks in Vancouver. Or, if you are lucky enough to live in the Toronto area, you can meet Kevin at the Toronto Public Library (40 Orchard View Blvd, Toronto) at 9 am on 12 May 2012. Or so the Simon& Schuster website tells me. They even have a map…

Neil Flambé and the Crusader’s Curse

I am so used to Kevin Sylvester’s cast of characters representing the cultural diversity that I know as Vancouver that an important, subtly expressed, relationship in The Crusader’s Curse failed to surprise me sufficiently: or so I am told. It was called to my attention by another reviewer to whom I lent my copy, a reviewer who is prominent in the children’s literature world for his active support of GBLTQ literature for readers of all ages. In the penultimate chapter, Jean-Claude Chili comments that his friend Hugo Victoire “eez used to loud noises. I snore like a greezly bear” (274). They have been together for “many years” Jean-Claude admits, and he strove to keep Hugo, like his sister—the people he loves—out of what he knew to be a very dangerous situation. Nothing more. For years now GLBTQ critics have been asking for texts that aren’t about homosexuality, or about “coming out,” or focus on the conflicts raging within our strongly heteronormative society, but rather present alternative sexualities as a non-confrontational reality, as they should be. Such representation is slowly beginning to appear. Neil Flambé and the Crusader’s Curse, even more than the first two culturally diverse texts in the series, lies in the vanguard of social tolerance.

More than that, though, The Crusader’s Curse is another delectable taste of mystery and adventure: an international Stanley Park for children. When the Neil Flambé cookbook comes out (I mention the possibility purely from desire, not from insider knowledge), I will immediately cook the recipes from this novel (if I can get my hands on some fresh seagull)! If you ever need to seriously cook your Canada goose—or hedgehog, or garter snake—Neil Flambé is your man, or rather, boy.

But Neil is growing up. As he hits his fifteenth birthday, he seems to have lost his panache; the food he serves his guests appalls them, and the arrogant boy-chef learns to eat humble pie. The reader, privy to the historical backstory upon which Sylvester loves to construct his narrative palimpsests, knows that the curse of the Flambés has descended: Neil’s culinary senses have desserted him. He is almost overcome, and readers are on tenderhooks as they follow Neil’s vacillation between depression, anxiety, and anger, with only enough information (such is Sylvester’s admirable narrative control) to trust that the plot will not burst into flame in the oven. It almost does, and I must admit that the final scenes were hard to follow, relying as they did on the reader’s ability to create visual images from the barrage of action words required. But the failing, I know, lies in this reader: the children to whom I lent the book loved the ending with all of its excitement combined with Sylvester’s inimitable sense of humour. But it made me wonder if there are anime artists and producers waiting to create a film version for us? And would we want that…? Perhaps not: Sylvester’s language not only reveals his subtle, sardonic humour in a way that film could not, but also creates layers of narrative that replicate the nuances of culinary artistry, drawing on all of our senses, not only the visual. So, Mr. Sylvester, back into your garret to garnish Neil Flambé #4 (Neil Flambé and the Tokyo Treasure), or are you starting on that cookbook yet?

Silver Bells (2010), by Susie Bragg

This review was first published in Resource Links Magazine, “Canada’s national journal devoted to the review and evaluation of Canadian English and French resources for children and young adults.” It appears in volume 16.3.

An interesting little note about this book: I received the book for review from a friend of the author, actually John Bishop of restaurant fame. When we visited his restaurant for our anniversary in early December, 2011, he had just received his copy, and was excited to share it; I liked it enough to want to review it.  I did so with the promise that I would donate it to my daughter’s school library when I was finished, but when I tried to do so, I was told that it was inappropriate for the library shelves due to its Christian message (which is not overt, but inherent in its being a Christmas book).  Now, at first this seemed like blatant censorship, but the truth of the matter was that adding it to the library would disturb the balance between Christian and non-Christian holiday texts.  So it ended up in the school office, where they keep books for students to read while they are waiting for parents, to see the principal, etc.  What do we make of this?

Silver Bells

Illust. Merry Meredith.

This is a delightful tale, presented partially in rhyme with colourful paintings of a traditional family Christmas.  The young protagonist tells her readers of Christmas “When I was one or two, or maybe three,” complete with snow and “woollies and mittens and scarves and bows” and a special hat with two sliver bells jingling on top, that her mother knit especially for her.  There is no deep plot or mystery here, just a nostalgic memory of the dog who came to church, the silver bells that the parent tease are Santa’s, and a little girl tired out after a long day of family fun, who drifts off to sleep dreaming she hears silver bells…
Susie Bragg’s playful presentation of a young child’s even younger memories is completed by Merry Meredith’s friendly paintings of the young girl, her dog Prince crouched under the church pew, her parents teasing her while they walk smiling home through the snow.  Parents will love the simplicity of the tale; children will love the magic of Christmas and the family memories it builds.

When Apples Grew on Noses and White Horses Flew: Tales of Ti-Jean (2011), by Jan Andrews

Illustrated by Dušan Petričić.

This review was first published in Resource Links Magazine, Canada’s national journal devoted to the review and evaluation of Canadian English and French resources for children and young adults.  It appears in volume 17.1.

When Apples Grew on Noses and White Horses Flew: Tales of Ti-Jean

The Tales of Ti-Jean travelled from France to North America with the first explorers, and have grown into the French Canadian stories Jan Andrews here presents us with. The first story, “Ti-Jean and the Princess of Tomboso,” was in fact translated back from “Ojibwa tellers who, presumably, had heard it from the voyageurs” (Note on Sources).  As Andrews points out in the introduction, “Ti-Jean” stories are legion: “many, many people have created stories about him over the years” (11).  When Apples Grew Noses and White Horses Flew presents three, all of which are lively and delightful.  Lovers of folktale will especially appreciate the seeming newness of the tales; they are completely different from the more well-known folktale plots, despite a full complement of folktale characteristics: objects and events in groups of three; magic as part of everyday life; trickery triumphed over by the simple, “everyman” hero, Ti-Jean.
In “Ti-Jean and the Princess of Tomboso,” Ti-Jean is initially duped by the Princess, but eventually gets his wits together to triumph over her.  In “Ti-Jean the Marble Player,” his self-assurance leads him to seek the magical Bonnet Rouge, whom he must outwit to save his life.  This he can only do with the help of Bonnet Rouge’s sisters and youngest daughter.  In “How Ti-Jean Became a Fiddler,” his humility is contrasted with the self-assurance of his older brothers, whom he must save from prison with magical gifts given to him for his hard work and honesty.  In all three tales, basic human values are lauded; arrogance and dishonesty are punished; and the simple hero, Ti-Jean, triumphs through his hard work, honesty, and simple approach to life.
An added benefit in the text is the inclusion of “A Word about Ti-Jean” and “A Note on Sources,” which situate the tales within a larger folkloric tradition and reveal their importance in the history of North American folklore.

Call Me Aram (2009), by Marsha Forchuk Skrypuch

This review was first published in Resource Links Magazine, Canada’s national journal devoted to the review and evaluation of Canadian English and French resources for children and young adults. It appears in volume 14.3.

Call Me Aram

“My name is Aram Davidian.  And I am a Canadian.”  Call Me Aram, sequel to Aram’s Choice (2006), is a simple and heart-warming story of the orphan boys brought to Canada during the Armenian Genocide, following World War I.  While the language is simple, author Marsha Forchuk Skrypuch neither oversimplifies nor romanticizes the psychological and cultural difficulties overcome by the orphans, who found themselves on a farm in Ontario, initially with no one who understood their language and culture.  Based on historical fact, this story is powerful in teaching readers today of history, cross-cultural understanding, and charity.  That which the boys find strange—ice boxes, wood stoves, porridge with cream—today’s reader might easily find equally unfamiliar.  Skrypuch’s narrative voice, in explaining how Aram’s culture differs from Canada, also reveals how 1923 Canada differs from our world today.  There are many learning opportunities in this text; the depth to which the issues can be explored can be tailored to the age and maturity of the reading audience.  The addition of the glossary and historical notes lends validity to the text, rendering it not only a beautiful tale, but an inspiring part of our national history.

The Dark Garden (1995), by Margaret Buffie

Once again Margaret Buffie has created a narrative situation that permits the revelation of the adolescent experience from a unique and effective perspective.  In The Dark Garden, Thea is suffering from temporary amnesia brought on by an accident on her bike.  We meet her as she begins to discover herself—without a history, but with a strong sense of self—just before she leaves the hospital. Her family is fairly normal: an over-achieving mother, a kind but somewhat ineffective father, a slightly younger sister who seems to resent her, a four-year-old sister who dotes on her, and a part-time housekeeper who resents the extra work Thea’s problem creates.  To add to Thea’s problems, she is hearing voices in her head, and seeing visions of her new home that are not quite right.  As she begins to relearn who she is, Thea struggles to solve the mysteries that surround her: the source of her secret knowledge of the house, who the voices are that speak to her, and why her family functions the way it does.
 
Thea’s amnesia is a well-crafted vehicle for revealing the adolescent struggle with a developing personality. Thea has to learn to cope not only with who she knows herself to be inside, but also with the person others remember and are expecting. The separation of these two aspects of self—internal and projected—allows young adult readers to glean a comprehension of how they might be perceived by others in their world. Margaret Buffie handles this difficult dynamic admirably: we truly believe in Thea’s amnesia, in her family’s responses to her, and in her own work at integrating the two Theas into one.  Our belief in the characters within the contemporary setting of the story facilitate a belief in the paranormal aspects of the narrative, the style for which Buffie is so well known in the Canadian Children’s Literature world. I don’t want to go deeply into the paranormal aspects of the plot, as I hate spoilers; suffice it to say that it is up to Buffie’s usual standards, remaining within the realms of possibility with only the slightest suspension of disbelief.