Durbin's first novel is an impressive coming-of-age tale set in Montreal at the dawn of the 19th century. When Pierre's father severely cuts himself while doing one of the boy's chores, the guilt-ridden 13-year-old leaves school and enlists as a voyageur for the North West Company. Voyageurs freighted goods thousands of miles, from Montreal to Grand Portage. As one of the rowers in one of the convoy's canoes, Pierre, who knows his family will not last the winter without his wages, paddles 1618 hours a day, with few breaks. Soon, bloodied, blistering hands, aching muscles, and taunts from the older, more seasoned voyageurs fill his days. While the physical demands threaten to crush his spirit, Pierre nevertheless remains open- minded, and soon kinder men like La Londe and Charbonneau offer friendly advice and keep an eye out for the hardworking young man. Durbin brings in a wealth of facts about the canoes, the countryside, and tools the voyageurs used, all adding realism to the tale. The sudden drowning of La Londe sends the boy into a confrontation with grief that leaves him with a clear-eyed view of mortality. The teasing and name-calling of the crustier voyageurs is unrelenting, but appropriate for this salty, rough, and feisty bunch. Readers will embrace this unusual journey and its path to true bravery, strength of character, and self-reliance. (map, not seen) (Fiction. 10+)
Pub Date: March 1, 1997
ISBN: 0-385-32224-0
Page Count: 163
Publisher: Delacorte
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Nov. 15, 1996
A crescendo of savage horror, relieved only by a few grace notes of tender poignancy, make a gripping page-turner of this finale to the Deptford Mice trilogy. The spirit of Jupiter, the sorcerous cat, has returned as the Unbeast, more malevolent and powerful than ever. Having seized the magical Starglass, he plans to plunge the world into eternal wintry darkness. Meanwhile, Jupiter’s erstwhile lieutenant has gathered an army of rats in the sewers of London, whipping them into a ravenous frenzy against the Holeborn mice. Against these evil forces stand only the mice of Deptford: temperamental Audrey, her rotund brother Arthur, the albino runt Oswald, the stalwart midshipmouse Thomas Triton, and the savvy city mouse Piccadilly. Armed with the wisdom of the frail squirrel Starwife and the ancient mystical lore of the bat councils, they set out to do the impossible: defeat an enemy who has already conquered death. Jarvis (The Crystal Prison, 2001, etc.) pulls out all the stops here, setting scenes of gruesome ferocity in an eerily unfamiliar London, whose human inhabitants huddle offstage while clammy fogs and icy gales freeze the city in their iron grip. While some might find his animals excessively anthropomorphized, the extreme situation has brought a new depth to their hitherto flat personalities. The most unlikely heroes reveal unsuspected reserves, and more than one beloved character pays the ultimate sacrifice. After all the violence and grief, the ultimate resolution is surprisingly warm, gentle, and achingly bittersweet. A superlative conclusion to a top-notch series. (Fiction. YA)
Pub Date: Sept. 1, 2002
ISBN: 1-58717-192-9
Page Count: 304
Publisher: SeaStar/North-South
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 15, 2002
A monumental battle of good versus evil pits children against an ancient witch outcast from earth. Rachel and her brother Eric are literally pulled amid wind and darkness into this world by the monstrous claws of a black creature. The evil witch, Dragwena, recognizes Rachel’s unusual power, begins her tutelage, and attempts to make Rachel her accomplice in revenge for her expulsion from earth centuries ago. All the inhabitants on the planet are in the thrall of Dragwena, yet some have gathered together to be ready for the child-hope prophesied. The evil is the stuff of nightmares; red-eyed wolves, worms that cling, crows with baby heads, and especially Dragwena, who has a snake for a necklace, tattooed green eyes that can meet at the back of her head, and four jaws of teeth that produce spiders instead of spit. McNish creates a surprisingly coherent fantasy world that still has multiple magical transformations on practically every page. Not for the fainthearted: heads are chopped off, spiders are eaten, blood turns yellow, ears are torn, and there is no attempt to soften or keep the battle offstage. The magic here is vivid and the underlying themes sufficiently subtle, yet curiously, it is hard to be truly engaged. The world of Ithrea is splashy and busy like a movie full of special effects that forgets the humanity of its characters. The nonstop action is a big asset for this, but it allows no time to become attached to the characters or empathize with the downtrodden. An opportunity for a sequel is provided at the end—an attractive option for those who care more for pyrotechnics than characters. (Fiction. 10-14)
Pub Date: June 1, 2001
ISBN: 0-8037-2710-0
Page Count: 224
Publisher: Putnam
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: May 15, 2002
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