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In “Rump: The True Story of Rumpelstiltskin” (Knopf 2013), Liesl Shurtliff retells the story that the Brothers Grimm collected in Germany and first published in 1812. In Shurtliff’s story Rump is not an imp, but a smallish boy.

Why in the past did they think he was an imp? Rump mistakenly steps on a pixie nest and they retaliate by biting his face, arms, legs, and yes, his rump. The painful bites swell and disfigure the boy, so he probably looked like an imp. Temporarily.

But back to the beginning. After whispering the name of her newborn in his ear, his mother dies. He can only remember “Rump.” In his world, his name is his destiny. The naming of babies is so important that people name nothing else. They live in the Village at the base of the Mountain in the Kingdom. The animals don’t even have names, but Rump identifies his goat as Milk and his donkey as Nothing. His mother came from Yonder or maybe Beyond. With a name like Rump, of course he’s teased relentlessly.

The Mountain was once full of gold and it is the villagers’ unfortunate task to mine what little remains and pay it as a tax to the greedy Miller who in turn hands it over to the gold-loving King. As is true in the Grimm version, the Miller tells the King that his daughter can spin straw into gold. Great. The greedy king takes the miller’s daughter as his bride. Now what? They need Rump who can spin straw to gold. What a heartless clever Miller!

In this romp with Rump, Shurtliff offers some sly turns of wisdom. The sludge-slurping trolls are known to eat human flesh. Not true, but the trolls keep humans at bay by letting them think this because, one says, “Humans take one look at any living creature and think only how they can use it.”

There’s more fun to be had. Gnomes pop out of holes in the road, take messages, and deliver them to individuals throughout the Kingdom. What a great way to send and receive messages.

As for the pixies, usually Rump is just swatting them away like we might swat at insects. But unlike most insects, pixies have garish colored hair and spectacular wings. The pixies are attracted to Rump because they love gold and they sense that Rump has a way with straw (in that he can spin it into gold) long before Rump knows of his talents.

Rump must discover his full name—and with it, his destiny. Afterall, You are what you’re named. Rump? No, there must be more to this guileless self-deprecating boy. And why ever would he want the new queen’s firstborn? Shurtliff explains it all in her clever retelling of “Rumpelstiltskin.”

Patricia Hruby Powell is a nationally touring speaker, dancer, storyteller, occasional librarian, and children’s book author. See more at www.talesforallages.com/

The paperboy stutters. He has difficulty uttering his own name, which begins with V— a sound difficult to make. The paperboy is known as Little Man. Not until the very end does the author, Vince Vawter, disclose the paperboy’s name—Victor Volmer—in the book “Paperboy” (Delacorte 2012).

In 1959 Memphis, 11 year old Little Man has taken over the paper route of his best friend who is vacationing with cousins. Needing a tool to cut the cord of bundled papers, Little Man takes his knife to the junkman/knife sharpener, Ara T, in spite of being warned to steer clear of him. Ara T, an adult bully, will not return the boy’s knife unless he says his own name. Little Man can’t do it.

Little Man assigns new names to those difficult to say. His best friend Art becomes Rat. The protagonist uses a technique called Gentle Air, breathing an s-s-s sound in order to voice difficult-to-say words—of which there are many. The reader is shown the challenge a stuttering kid must overcome in order to speak, to read aloud in class, and how those efforts result in being teased and taunted.

His paper route customers provide relationships, which lead to Little Man’s maturity. A learned merchant marine, Mr. Spiro, calls the boy Messenger when he shows up to collect the weekly paper fee. Spiro offers pithy dollops of wisdom such as Voltaire’s: “Speech was given to man to disguise his thoughts.” Spiro gives Messenger one part of a torn and quartered dollar bill each week, with one word written on each piece. Along with the protagonist we wait to solve the mystery of the four words.

Another client is the beautiful whisky-drinking Mrs. Worthington. Our boy is infatuated and concerned about her relationship with an abusive husband. We are drawn to find out the outcome.

His closest ally is Mam, his (white) family’s (black) maid. Together, Mam and Little Man confront the dangerous Ara T, risking their lives in a seedy part of Memphis where we learn about the self-governing justice system in this African American community.

Thank heavens Little Man excels at pitching a baseball. This gives him much needed confidence and an arena in which he is highly respected.

I loved the details shown of childhood as when Vawter writes, “I ran from lamppost to lamppost without stopping like I was running the bases.” The lampposts might tag him out. (I’d have been running from tree to tree as an Indian avoiding the cavalry).

Just as the paperboy carefully chooses words according to their starting sound—such as saying story rather than book with it’s difficult b sound—Vawter carefully chooses his words. We understand when he says, “…the D sound stuck tight in my throat like a tennis ball in a chain-link fence.”

Vawter knows his setting as only one who has lived it—details such as which streets had less traffic on Saturdays. This beautiful story is clearly personal to its author, yet universal for his readers.

Patricia Hruby Powell is a nationally touring speaker, dancer, storyteller, occasional librarian, and children’s book author. See more at www.talesforallages.com/

One small shorebird, a rufa redknot, tagged B95 many years ago, has probably lived longer than 20 years. His history and that of all rufas is told by master storyteller Phillip Hoose in “Moonbird: a Year on the Wind with the Great Survivor B95” (Farrar 2012).

Every year B95 and his compadre rufas migrate from the southern tip of South America, Tierra del Fuego to the Canadian Arctic and back again. “But trip by trip,” Hoose informs us, “B95 threads the sky with fewer companions,” a fact attributable in large degree to human activity. “Can humans and shorebirds coexist?” 80% of rufas have disappeared in B95’s lifetime. He was first banded in 1995 when he was an adult, at least 3 or 4 years old. (The “95” happens to be his number, not the year he was banded).

Maps and photos show the yearly route, pole to pole. We know their route because scientists recapture banded birds, record data, and release them. Some rufas are fitted with tiny radios. Why do they go so far? The preliminary answer is: for food, space, and light. They breed in the Arctic where they have nearly 24 hours of summer light to find food. But when winter returns in August they head south seeking the Antarctic summer light.

They gorge themselves before they set out for flights that last 3 to 5 days—without landing. When they do land at various points along their way, they’re depleted and in dire need of food, but still far from their final destination. “…this bird has to be among the toughest 4 ounces of life in the world.” At each landing spot a particular food is available on which the tiny birds gorge. At Delaware Bay, it’s been eggs of horseshoe crabs. But that crab population has been decimated by humans—first to be ground and used as fertilizer, now as bait to catch conch, which is a cuisinary delicacy. 80% of the crab population is gone. If rufas doesn’t eat, he doesn’t survive.

Hoose builds on his premise that “plants and animals keep us alive and improve our lives.” It was discovered that horseshoe crabs whose eggs feed the rufas provide a liquid that keeps our medicines safe from bacterial contamination. Scientists have found a way to extract what they need and return the crabs to Delaware Bay.

Interspersed in the rufas’ life narrative are profiles of scientists who often began as kids with a fascination for shorebirds and who volunteered in the quest to save them. Some of the profiles focus on kids volunteering today, bringing the study to their classrooms. As an added bonus, an appendix lists how an individual or a class can help the shorebirds.

This nonfiction story keeps readers on the edge of their seats. There is the mystery of why rufas fly nine thousand miles to breed? Why don’t they just stay put? “For nearly 20 years now, B95 has followed a ripple of food and a beam of light across the globe just as his ancestors did long before.”

 

Patricia Hruby Powell is a nationally touring speaker, dancer, storyteller, occasional librarian, and children’s book author. Find out more at www.talesforallages.com/

In and around the town of Placid, Wisconsin, 1871, wild pigeons are nesting by the millions. Pigeons were so plentiful they blacken the sky and “a kind of sleed (the birds’ dung) fell from the winged ceiling.” Money can be made trapping and selling the birds as food, so “pigeoners” arrive in droves. The pigeoners need guns, barrels, nets, and camping equipment—which is supplied by the well-stocked store owned by Georgie’s family.

“One Came Home” (Knopf 2013) by Amy Timberlake opens, amidst this historic setting, with the burial of an auburn-haired teenaged girl. Agatha had been missing for weeks, but at least the family could now bury her mangled body. But Georgie doesn’t think the unrecognizable body belongs to her older sister Agatha. Yes, she was wearing Agatha’s green dress, meant for her wedding, but Georgie isn’t convinced.

Besides overseeing customer accounts and working the store counter, Georgie is a sharp-shooter—the best around. A few months prior, not wanting her sister to leave town, Georgie says the wrong thing—a rather mean thing about Agatha—to Agatha’s suitor Mr. Ormstead. At that point, Agatha flees town—with a group of rough pigeoners.

While her family mourns Agatha’s death, Georgie procures a mule and provisions with the help of Billy, Agatha’s ex-boyfriend. She sets off north in search of her sister. Teenaged Billy follows. The independent Georgie reluctantly allows him to accompany her.

Billy is handsome and likeable. Georgie is thirteen. But Georgie feels betrayed by his following her. Their adventure is swathed in dark mystery and the presence of thousands of nesting carrier pigeons, and the filth they leave behind. The two encounter some unsavory backwoods folk. Always present in the midst of the perilous action, are Georgie’s feelings for Billie, which are complex and honestly written.

Georgie unravels the mystery of Agatha’s hurried departure and resultant adventure through the course of her own high adventures, all the while coming to terms with her future. Spunky Georgie reflects on the use of guns and taking animal lives. The twists and turns are surprising and keep you turning pages.

The beautifully written story hovers between middle grade and young adult and will be enjoyed by adults. Bear in mind that there is a degree of gore, death, and guns. However, the resultant violence, rather than being gratuitous is essential to the development of the story.

About those pigeons—the story’s historic nesting is the largest ever recorded—850 square miles of nesting passenger pigeons, 6-10 miles wide, 125 miles long—in 1871. By 1914, the carrier pigeon (wild or passenger pigeon) was extinct. Pigeoners cleaned them out. Historical fiction is one great way to learn about odd or even bewildering events. And this story of European American pioneers, set in an adjoining state, might feel pretty close to home for many of us in Illinois.

 

Patricia Hruby Powell is a nationally touring speaker, dancer, storyteller, occasional librarian, and children’s book author. Her Josephine: The Dazzling Life of Josephine Baker (Chronicle) (illustrated by Christian Robinson) comes out in January 2014

All the time I was reading “Titanic: Voices from the Disaster” (Scholastic 2012) by Deborah Hopkinson, I wanted to yell, “Get on those life boats. Now!” Repeatedly we hear testimony of the survivors saying they waited for instructions. In the end about 700 passengers, staff, and crew, survived. 1500 people perished.

To help us understand this, we know the survivors had felt safer on the immense opulently fitted, well-lighted Titanic than they did at the idea of huddling in small lifeboats bobbing on the icy black Atlantic. They were also told by the crew, Help is just minutes away. Sadly, this was not true.

Lack of organization was only one problem. If every lifeboat had been filled, 1200 might have survived, but there would still not have been space in lifeboats for 1000 passenger and crew members. They’d broken no law. The number of lifeboats required was based on the tonnage of the ship—a number set half a century earlier—a rule based on freight vehicles rather than luxury liners.

There were still more problems. This most luxurious ship with its grand staircase, mahogany fittings, dinner served on gold-rimmed bone china, was thought invincible. In spite of being warned all day, April 14, 1912, by other ships in the area, of the ice field looming ahead in the north Atlantic, Captain Smith chose to steam straight on, not altering course, not even slowing the engines. Arrogance?

Another sad commentary is the huge proportion of third class or steerage passengers who perished. The crew’s call was “Women and children first,” meaning first and second-class women and children. Third class passengers were not released from the lower decks until shortly before the Titanic sank at 2:20 a.m. on April 15, only a few hours after striking the iceberg.

It’s unclear why the Californian, a large ship steaming in the vicinity did not come to their aid in spite of the Titanic’s radio SOS and the flares sent up every 15 minutes. The Carpathian chugged at top speed from 53 miles away and rescued those in lifeboats at dawn on April 15, but it was too late for those 1500 people in the water who’d expired of drowning or hypothermia soon after falling or jumping into the water.

There are stories of heroism. The radio operators never ceased sending out alerts. A few crew members worked tirelessly to help those they could. Even knowing the outcome, the book is a page turner or a disc changer. Read by Mark Bramhall for Listening Library, the sound production is a bit of a challenge considering all the sidebars breaking into the narrative, but still a worthwhile transmission of the story.

            The century-old Titanic tragedy continues to fascinate. In these days of preparedness it’s difficult to understand their innocence—the fact that they did not have a plan in the event of a disaster.

“Iceberg, Right Ahead! The Tragedy of the Titanic” (Twenty-First Century Books 2011) by Stephanie Sammartino McPherson is another fine book about the Titanic tragedy.

 

Patricia Hruby Powell is a nationally touring speaker, dancer, storyteller, occasional librarian, and children’s book author. See more at www.talesforallages.com/

When his inattentive parents deny him a cat, 8 year old Peter runs into the street to save a kitten, and is hit by a car. On the spot, Peter morphs into a cat, in the republished “The Abandoned” (New York Review Children’s Collection 2013) by Paul Gallico—first published in 1950.

The people of London recovering from the devastation of WWII—loss of life and bombed out buildings—were generally not sentimental toward the thousands of stray cats roaming the city. Most saw them as pests. Cats developed a rough hierarchy trying to defend themselves in this tough world—the world into which Peter is cast.

After a brush with death at the paws and claws of a vicious tomcat, a generous cat named Jennie licks Peter clean of soot and blood. What a sensual calming experience it is—reminiscent of those very early days when his mother’s touch was familiar to him. Jennie begins Peter’s instruction as a cat with, “When in doubt, clean,” and we are invited into the world of cats’ contortions (picture one hind leg stretching straight up so she can get her tongue to the back of that haunch) and I now know that feline washing is essentially yoga for cats. Jennie tells Peter that a cat should commence washing whenever confused or when needing a moment to regroup. Sort of a stopgap—perhaps the equivalent of saying “um,” “y’know” or “like.” And think how beneficial washing is.

Jennie explains to Peter (and us), that a cat keeps “…a mouse alive and in the air as long as possible, not to torture it, but to gain skill and accuracy and train his muscles to react swiftly at the slightest movement.” Isn’t that helpful?

Of course, cats have much to teach us. For instance, you never charge out into a new situation. Instead, “You stop, look, listen and feel, before going outside.”

Written in an earlier time, when people had fewer distractions, “Abandoned” includes more description than you’ll find in most contemporary children’s literature. For that reason I’d suggest giving it to young readers who are ready to read at a slightly more adult level. Or read it to the family on a road trip. The abundant description is fascinating, gives one a thorough and charming understanding of cats, and serves to drive forward the story action (of which there is plenty).

Jennie and Peter stow away on a ship steaming to Glasgow, giving us a view of (a former) London’s streets and docks as well as a glimpse into the human working class. The “cat overboard” episode is breathtaking. And there are plenty of high stakes street scenes that are less than gentle.

Best of all, Gallico deeply observes cats and passes along many gleaned truths—confirming what cat-lovers already may know and giving those of us who aren’t born cat-lovers, a deeper appreciation of felines.

 

Patricia Hruby Powell is a nationally touring speaker, dancer, storyteller, occasional librarian, and children’s book author.