Ginger Pye (Young Classic)

Eleanor Estes. Sandpiper 2000, Paperback, 320 pages, $0.55

Rating: 5 out of 5 stars

Jerry and Rachel Pye make a companionable team, from their cheerful “Boombernickles” word game and outdoor explorations, to their acquisition of their family’s new puppy, Ginger.  But when the puppy disappears on Thanksgiving Day, the heartbroken children work together to solve the mystery of who could have stolen him.

Ginger Pye combines a warmly written, empathetic, and often funny portrayal of a loving family with an engaging mystery to be solved, and concludes with a quite satisfying resolution.  The story abounds in engaging portraits of interesting characters in the Pye’s small-town community, but Estes’ character development of Jerry and Rachel is where her writing really shines.  She perceptively captures the way children think about their world, and anchors these ordinary (but quite likable) children in a believable 1950’s American town.  This is a very enjoyable story.

Jacob Have I Loved

Katherine Paterson. HarperCollins 1990, Paperback, 256 pages, $3.35

Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

Sara Louise Bradshaw is an awkward, pretentious young woman consumed with envy against her twin sister, whom she feels has robbed her of love and attention since their birth, when Louise was forgotten in the rush to save Caroline’s life.  In Louise’s words,

I was the elder by a few minutes. I always treasured the thought of those minutes. They represented the only time in my life when I was the center of everyone’s attention. From the moment Caroline was born, she snatched it all for herself. (Harper Trophy, 1990, p. 18)

Her feelings are understandable, since her emotionally distant parents do favor the beautiful Caroline, making significant sacrifices to develop her musical gift while Louise (or “Wheeze,” as dubbed by her sister) is neglected.  The book traces Louise’s journey out of her oppressive adolescence into a new life of her own choosing, as she leaves home and marries far from her family.

This story is one of the first in a 1980’s genre of fiction that focused on the out-of-place feelings young people struggle with.  As in many stories of this type, the author succeeds very well at portraying Louise’s crushing resentment, but fails to provide a satisfying resolution.  Throughout her struggles she is obsessively self-absorbed and bitterly envious, providing ample opportunity for readers’ empathy but not for emulation.  More troubling than her hatred of Caroline is her insistence that God is to blame for her pain.  This sentiment is underscored by her mentally ill grandmother, who venomously whispers an out-of-context scripture quotation to her: “As it is written, ‘Jacob have I loved, but Esau have I hated.’” (Romans 9:13)

Although the author subtly lets the reader know that many of Louise’s problems are of her own making, the idea that God has forsaken her is never really contradicted.  Rather, it is through taking responsibility for her decisions, leaving home and building a new life on her own terms that Louise achieves resolution.  The story concludes when, in her new vocation as a midwife, she  momentarily forgets to care for a healthy twin while saving the life of the younger.  She instructs the young mother to give proper attention to the healthy child, and walks home peacefully, hearing her sister’s voice singing in her mind.  This scene may be interpreted to mean that she has come to terms with the injustice of her childhood, even though she does not actually reconcile with her sister or parents.

This book won a Newbery Medal, and has been enjoyed by many readers because of its masterful writing and the genuine pathos of its protagonist.  But Louise’s faults unfortunately permeate this compelling story.  I’m willing to be challenged, but I believe that while Paterson has done a great job of describing adolescent struggles, her protagonist is never allowed to fully transcend them.  This, combined with the truly poisonous nature of Sara Louise’s family, makes this a story that may do more harm than good.

The Westing Game

Ellen Raskin. Puffin 1997, Paperback, 192 pages, $3.80

Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

The Westing Game is a sophisticated mystery with a lively plot and many funny moments.  The multimillionare Sam Westing names sixteen heirs in his will, which turns out to be a complex riddle, and the one who solves it inherits his estate.  Among the heirs are Shin Hoo, a domineering Chinese restauranteur with an underappreciated athlete son and a homesick young wife; J.J. Ford, a bootstrapping African-American judge; Grace Wexler, a pretentious housewife with a podiatrist husband; their daughter Angela, a beautiful, browbeaten future bride; and her sister, the neglected but spirited Turtle.  All the heirs live in Sunset Towers, and three of the building staff are also heirs: Sandy Northrup, the doorman; Otis Amber, delivery man; and Bertha Crow, cleaning woman, a grimly pious former alcoholic.

The story is well conceived, an enjoyable read not only for the riddle but for many sly digs at human foibles, as secrets are revealed at every turn.  However, it lacks any transcendent meaning, and a discerning parent may need to help younger readers interpret it.  The players are motivated by the desire to win the inheritance, not to solve a crime allegedly committed.  There is little sense of moral justice, and the winner gains the inheritance through cleverness rather than virtue.

By necessity, the sixteen characters are thinly drawn, and they are caricatured enough that their many faults (which include lying, drunkenness, arson, and terrible parenting) may be interpreted comedically.  For Christian families, the primary concern may be Bertha Crow’s religion.  She wears black, prays with pinched lips, and regularly limps to the Good Salvation Soup Kitchen, presenting an impression of joyless, painful religion.  Hers is the only portrayal of spirituality, and it falls far short of the joyful, grace-filled faith in Christ’s work that characterizes genuine Christianity.

The Westing Game is a good yarn –  a page-turning, entertaining read with a satisfying conclusion.  The plot, characters, and riddle are perfectly suited to its 8-12 reading level, but its cynical portrayal of religion and its temporal focus on status and money may unduly influence immature readers.  If you’re looking for a story with an ultimate theme, better look elsewhere.

Call It Courage

Armstrong Sperry. Simon Pulse 1973, Mass Market Paperback, 128 pages, $0.58

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

Mafatu, the ten-year-old son of a Polynesian chieftan, has always feared the sea because in his toddlerhood he and his mother were swept away by a storm in which his mother lost her life.  As he approaches the edge of manhood, his fear prevents him from winning a place in his community.  Realizing their indifference to him, he sets out to sea alone in his canoe, taking only his dog and a few tools.  That night he is caught in a storm, in which he loses his paddle and all his tools, and he washes up on an island where cannibals are known to live.  He builds a shelter and canoe and chooses to survive; while living there he kills an octopus, a boar, and a shark, and faces the human terror of ritualistic cannibals, barely escaping with his life.  At the end of his journey he returns to his village having proved himself a man.

The story is set in a mythical Polynesia, but is written in a European voice: at one point the author describes a canoe caught in a current “like a millrace,” a term which is decidedly foreign to this island culture.  The great weakness of this book is that the tribal societies which provide a backdrop for the story are caricatured:  The tribal fishermen represent noble savages, living so close to nature that they become “ill at ease, charged… with an almost animal awareness of impending storm” (3).  Conversely, the cannibal tribe represent a class of wordless, brutal primitives — dancing with oiled bodies, beating drums around fires and stone idols, wailing, and shouting with guttural voices.  Mafatu appeals throughout the story to Maui, “god of the Fishermen,” and repeatedly challenges his nemesis Moana, the Sea God.  Sperry’s Maui, however, hardly resembles the Polynesian trickster named Maui, and the Moana of the story is only a personification of the sea (In some of the languages “moana” does mean sea or ocean.)

No one having read this book should believe they have learned anything about the real Polynesia — it is no more a story about Polynesia than Little Red Riding Hood is about the European forest. Notwithstanding this, if a reader can accept that Call it Courage is a lesson not in history but in moral courage, they may benefit from the moral example this hero represents.  Although Mafatu is limited by his youth and inexperience, he faces great dangers and survives, facing down one fear after another.  By making critical choices under pressure, and by refusing to succumb to the elemental, animal, spiritual and human forces arrayed against him, he finally wins his victory.  This coming of age is an accomplishment any young boy can aspire to.

Island of the Blue Dolphins

Scott O’Dell. Yearling 1987, Paperback, 192 pages, $1.09

Rating: 5 out of 5 stars

A beautiful story of a “girl Robinson Crusoe.”  Karana is a member of a tribe living on the island of Ghalas-at off the coast of California.  When her tribe decides to leave the island with some ships, she is accidentally left behind with her younger brother, who is killed soon afterward.  She builds a home for herself, befriends a wild dog, and lives alone for many years before being discovered by sailors.

This novel is inspired by the true story of a woman who was left alone on this island for 18 years, called The Lost Woman of San Nicolas.  Very little is known about her.  After leaving the island, she spent the rest of her life at a Catholic mission in California, where no one spoke her language.  O’Dell does incorporate what little is known about her into his story: the leap from the ship, the wild dogs, and the skirt made of cormorant feathers.  He adds an encounter with an Aleut girl, and a few guesses about cultural details of her tribal tradition that may or may not be substantiated historically.

Although the story is pure fiction, it achieved classic status because of its timeless human themes.  O’Dell’s heroine shows great courage in building her shelter, finding food, taming her dog, and finally revealing herself to the island’s visitors.  For many years she lives alone, maintaining not only her own safety and sustenance but also seeking out expressions of beauty and kindness, and caring for the animals within her sphere of influence.  It is a romantic story, but one that is marked by deep loneliness.  In a bittersweet ending, she leaves her lifelong home for the sake of hearing another human voice.

This is a quiet, memorable story of survival and persistence in the face of difficult conditions and profound grief.  Karana’s practical means of surviving against the elements and predators are interesting in themselves, but her courage in facing hunger and danger, and living alone year after year, make her a heroine worth emulating.