RUNAWAY SILVER

An unfortunate girl discovers an astonishing ability in Quinn’s middle-grade debut novella and series opener.

Nine-year-old Lily Lilac lives a happy life with her parents on a prairie located in an unspecified time and place (though the dialogue and details of the setting suggest the 19th century or earlier). One day, Mama, a talented painter, invites her daughter to paint alongside her. “For now, just repeat after me,” Mama tells her, and Lily does, recreating her mother’s newest masterpiece on her own easel. Amazingly, Lily’s version is uncannily similar to Mama’s, from the colors to the spacing. When tragedy strikes, her ensuing melancholy turns her blonde corkscrew curls gray, such a drastic change that Lily doesn’t recognize her own reflection. She runs away from her family’s cottage and grieves in the “murky woods” until she’s lost. But her fate changes when she comes across a poet who dubs himself the Scop at a nearby circus. He’s taken aback to learn that Lily doesn’t even know what a circus is; then again, Lily no longer remembers her name, her age, or where she’s from. The Scop leads her through the circus, which is filled with incredible sights, including acrobatic performers, unicyclists, and pole vaulters. Lily proves that she can master an ability by merely watching someone else: J, the resident juggler, demonstrates to Lily firsthand his particular skill, and, sure enough, she starts juggling various objects like a seasoned veteran. Of course, no one believes she wasn’t already a juggler, least of all Oscar Osment Brimfire, the ringmaster’s son, who really isn’t fond of her.

Quinn’s compact tale feels like two stories in one. An unknown narrator recounts Lily’s story of her homelife and the trauma she suffers. Then, after an “intermission,” the author turns the narrative reins over to the Scop, whose account at some point becomes a “prose-poem” and, later, simply a poem. The first, more sorrowful half of the novel teems with vivid passages: “Blue, ridged mountains bordered the horizon in every direction. Below, woodland treetops simmered in a thick stew of white fog.” The Scop’s chronicle is more playful and upbeat as Lily slowly garners her strength and confidence. He writes, “On his toes [J] spun, and in a stack fell the things: dinnerware, beanbag, and yes, all six rings.” Lily is easy to sympathize with—she’s a lovable girl burdened with hardships, but the high-spirited Scop is the only other character with layers. Much of this novella centers on introducing young Lily, whom Scop calls “Little Girl Gray,” a worthwhile hero for an adventure that’s only getting started. The full-color illustrations, courtesy of Marchione, Hardy, and Duhon, provide memorable imagery, from Lily’s ever-expressive face and the Scop’s goofy grin to Mama and Lily’s serene painting (a flowery landscape with a many-hued butterfly). As a sequel already awaits readers, this first installment leaves the characters’ fates up in the air and a whole bunch of unanswered questions.

A diverting, heartfelt story of overcoming the odds.