In the early days of the Revolutionary War, Sara Bishop's Tory father is killed and their farmhouse burned by hoodlum Patriot Boys. Her brother, in the Patriot Army, dies a prisoner on the British ship Scorpion. Sara, 15, is arrested by the British, wrongly accused of setting the Trinity Church fire that breaks out when she is tracking down her brother in New York. She escapes, takes brief jobs in inn kitchens to stake her supplies, and then—still fleeing the British and desirous of solitude—sets up housekeeping in a "wilderness area" cave. At this point Sara has rejected the Bible that seems to have failed her, and is as determined to reject human help and company. A musket is her constant companion, and a white bat her pet. She has used the musket's threat to escape Sam Goshen, a man who gave her a wagon lift, then tried to rape her; and she uses it again when an Indian appears and claims that the cave area land is "mine." (In a reversal of the usual scene, Sara tries to explain that she doesn't claim the land but doesn't intend to move.) Later Sam Goshen turns up near her cave, caught in his own poisoned bear trap, and she reluctantly saves him, taking him into the cave until he is well enough to be shut out. Alone, she suffers from a poisonous snake bite and spends days on the edge of life. But a nice young Indian couple come by too, and help her to smoke fish and make a dugout canoe. Later, a young Quaker from whom she buys supplies takes an interest in her and invites her to Meeting. Her appearance in town lands her in prison again, this time for witchcraft; but the Quaker's reasoned persuasion saves her from trial and certain condemnation. In the end, Sara is back in her cave but has established the tentative contact that promises to win her back to society. O'Dell's affectless short sentences well suit Sara's numbed responses; however, without any heightening or variation, they make the story seem, after a while, to be taking Sara in and out of one dager after another. (There are so many.) It is, though, her own resourcefulness that gets her out each time; there is some small, undramatic progression in her withdrawal and incipient healing; and the adventure, historical background, survival mechanics, and inner condition are well integrated.
Pub Date: April 23, 1980
ISBN: 0395618754
Page Count: -
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin
Review Posted Online: Oct. 18, 2011
Kirkus Reviews Issue: April 1, 1980
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
A sweet, soft conversation starter and a charming gift.
A paean to teachers and their surrogates everywhere.
This gentle ode to a teacher’s skill at inspiring, encouraging, and being a role model is spoken, presumably, from a child’s viewpoint. However, the voice could equally be that of an adult, because who can’t look back upon teachers or other early mentors who gave of themselves and offered their pupils so much? Indeed, some of the self-aware, self-assured expressions herein seem perhaps more realistic as uttered from one who’s already grown. Alternatively, readers won’t fail to note that this small book, illustrated with gentle soy-ink drawings and featuring an adult-child bear duo engaged in various sedentary and lively pursuits, could just as easily be about human parent- (or grandparent-) child pairs: some of the softly colored illustrations depict scenarios that are more likely to occur within a home and/or other family-oriented setting. Makes sense: aren’t parents and other close family members children’s first teachers? This duality suggests that the book might be best shared one-on-one between a nostalgic adult and a child who’s developed some self-confidence, having learned a thing or two from a parent, grandparent, older relative, or classroom instructor.
A sweet, soft conversation starter and a charming gift. (Picture book. 4-7)Pub Date: March 1, 2017
ISBN: 978-1-943200-08-5
Page Count: 32
Publisher: Compendium
Review Posted Online: Dec. 13, 2016
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2017
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
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