In a remarkable departure, Temple (A Taste of Salt, 1992; Grab Hands and Run, 1993), turns from powerful, harrowing novels of today's Third World to a captivating 13th-century idyll. Elenor dreads the return of her betrothed, Thomas, from a crusade; remembering him as an arrogant tease, she fears losing her autonomy and even (like her mother) her life, in childbirth. She confides her distress in Father Gregory, who also hears Thomas's confession when he comes home deeply troubled by a mission whose horrors have destroyed his ideals and having no wish to wed ``The Brat'' to further his father's territorial schemes. Wisely, the old priest sets a penance for both: a celibate pilgrimage to Santiago, in Spain. During the long journey from England the two befriend a series of other pilgrims with whom they exchange help, songs, and stories (some with a strong resonance with the present); both learn the joy of giving and doing while their distrust is transformed into an affection ``so fine, so frail'' that one friend wants to ``cup his hands around it [like] a tinder spark, to give it every chance''; and then a deep tenderness, warmed by the passion to come. Like Marchette Chute's, this is an innocent wayfaring; no lusty Wife of Bath or vicious Pardoner mars the pair's discovery of their fellow humans' rich variety (including an Albigensian heretic and a Muslim), of each other, and of the changing landscape that Temple describes with singularly unpretentious beauty. Varying her point of view from one sharply realized character to another in lively cinematic vignettes, she recreates medieval Europe at its best—a place where faith, trust, and generosity could be rewarded in kind. A throwback with a contemporary sensibility; an enchanting pilgrimage to self-realization, service, and love. (Fiction. 11+)
Pub Date: April 1, 1994
ISBN: 0-531-06836-6
Page Count: 336
Publisher: Orchard
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 15, 1994
Year-round fun.
Set in 1937 during the so-called “Roosevelt recession,” tight times compel Mary Alice, a Chicago girl, to move in with her grandmother, who lives in a tiny Illinois town so behind the times that it doesn’t “even have a picture show.”
This winning sequel takes place several years after A Long Way From Chicago (1998) leaves off, once again introducing the reader to Mary Alice, now 15, and her Grandma Dowdel, an indomitable, idiosyncratic woman who despite her hard-as-nails exterior is able to see her granddaughter with “eyes in the back of her heart.” Peck’s slice-of-life novel doesn’t have much in the way of a sustained plot; it could almost be a series of short stories strung together, but the narrative never flags, and the book, populated with distinctive, soulful characters who run the gamut from crazy to conventional, holds the reader’s interest throughout. And the vignettes, some involving a persnickety Grandma acting nasty while accomplishing a kindness, others in which she deflates an overblown ego or deals with a petty rivalry, are original and wildly funny. The arena may be a small hick town, but the battle for domination over that tiny turf is fierce, and Grandma Dowdel is a canny player for whom losing isn’t an option. The first-person narration is infused with rich, colorful language—“She was skinnier than a toothpick with termites”—and Mary Alice’s shrewd, prickly observations: “Anybody who thinks small towns are friendlier than big cities lives in a big city.”
Year-round fun. (Fiction. 11-13)Pub Date: Oct. 1, 2000
ISBN: 978-0-8037-2518-8
Page Count: 144
Publisher: Dial Books
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 15, 2000
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
Drawing on her experience with a relief organization on the Thai border, Ho tells the story of a Cambodian family, fleeing the rival factions of the 80's while hoping to gather resources to return to farming in their homeland. Narrator Dara, 12, and the remnants of her family have arrived at a refugee camp soon after her father's summary execution. At first, the camp is a haven: food is plentiful, seed rice is available, and they form a bond with another family- -brother Sarun falls in love with Nea, and Dara makes friends with Nea's cousin, Jantu, who contrives marvelous toys from mud and bits of scrap; made wise by adversity, Jantu understands that the process of creation outweighs the value of things, and that dead loved ones may live on in memory. The respite is brief: Vietnamese bombing disrupts the camp, and the family is temporarily but terrifyingly separated. Later, Jantu is wounded by friendly fire and doesn't survive; but her tragic death empowers Dara to confront Sarun, who's caught up in mindless militarism instigated by a charismatic leader, and persuade him to travel home with the others—to plant rice and build a family instead of waging war. Again, Ho (Rice Without Rain, 1990) skillfully shapes her story to dramatize political and humanitarian issues. The easily swayed Sarun lacks dimension, but the girls are more subtly drawn—Dara's growing courage and assertiveness are especially convincing and admirable. Touching, authentic, carefully wrought- -and with an unusually appealing jacket. (Fiction. 11-15)
Pub Date: Oct. 1, 1991
ISBN: 0-374-31340-7
Page Count: 163
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Oct. 1, 1991
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