The Great Trouble A mystery of London, the blue death, and a boy called Eel

Review by Booklist Review

Equal parts medical mystery, historical novel, and survival story about the 1854 London cholera outbreak, this introduces Eel, a boy trying to make ends meet on Broad Street. When he visits one of his regular employers, he learns the man has fallen ill. Eel enlists the help of Dr. Snow, and together they work to solve the mystery of what exactly is causing the spread of cholera and how they can prevent it. Steeped in rich fact and detailed explanations about laboratory research, Hopkinson's book uses a fictional story to teach readers about science, medicine, and history and works in a few real-life characters, too. Eel serves as a peek into the lower class of London society and offers readers a way to observe and, hopefully, ask questions about the scientific method. An author's note provides readers with a look at the real story behind the novel, making this a great choice for introducing readers to science and history.--Thompson, Sarah Bean Copyright 2010 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Set amid the 1854 London cholera outbreak, Hopkinson's attention-grabbing story of Eel, an orphan who survives by combing the filthy banks of the Thames for anything he might sell, is a delightful combination of race-against-the-clock medical mystery and outwit-the-bad-guys adventure. Eel, a hardworking and bighearted kid with no shortage of crummy luck, is being hunted by a notoriously mean crook, who happens to be his stepfather. When the first cholera case hits, the town blames the polluted air, but Eel and his mentor, Dr. Snow, have a different theory-that it's being spread through a local water pump-which they set out to prove before the death toll escalates further. Hopkinson (Titanic: Voices from the Disaster) adeptly recreates the crowded, infested streets of London, but it's her distinct, layered characters and turbulent, yet believable plot that make this a captivating read. As the deadly disease worsens, Dr. Snow and Eel's deadline looms, and Eel's past closes in on him, readers will feel the same sense of urgency-and excitement-as the characters themselves. Ages 10-up. Agent: Steven Malk, Writers House. (Oct.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

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Review by School Library Journal Review

Gr 5-8-Hopkinson's historical novel (Knopf, 2013) transports listeners to 1854 London at the time of the famous Broad Street pump cholera epidemic. Fictional and real characters and events are adeptly mixed to create an informative and gripping tale. The main character is the titular "boy called Eel," a likable orphan working odd jobs to take care of his little brother and keep them out of the work houses and the clutches of Fisheye Bill Tyler. Dr. John Snow, the real-life doctor who traced the cause of the outbreak, is introduced when Eel asks for the prominent doctor's help with "The Great Trouble." Keeping in mind Snow's controversial theory about the spread of the disease, Eel and the doctor work together to gather evidence from affected families and convince the town committee to shut off the Broad Street pump. The author successfully conveys the race against time as the "blue death" spreads rapidly, killing more than 600 people before Snow and Eel can stop it. Matthew Frow does a wonderful job of recreating the distinct accents that existed among Londoners and their various stations, although Eel's accent is so thick that he can be difficult to understand. Historical notes, read by Kimberly Farr, will satisfy listeners whose curiosity has been piqued. Hand this novel to fans of The Apprenticeship of Lucas Whitaker by Cynthia DeFelice and Fever 1793 by Laurie Halse Anderson.-Terri Norstrom, Cary Area Library, IL (c) Copyright 2013. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Horn Book Review

Thirteen-year-old Eel is a mudlark, gleaning and selling bits of rope, rags, and coal from the grimy River Thames. Ever the entrepreneur, he also sweeps Mr. Griggss tailor shop and cleans the cages and feeds the pets at Dr. Snows house, and now hes loading bodies into coffins and coffins onto carts, as the Blue Deathcholerahas hit London. A parallel plot line involves a secret Eel is keeping and a mysterious stranger named Fisheye Bill Taylor, who may just get Eel if the Blue Death doesnt. Hopkinson constructs a historical novel of true Dickensian fashion, with vivid descriptions of Victorian Londons filthy Thames, foul air, and sickly-looking skiesa city ripe for a plague. And like a good Dickensian tale, Eels story contains twists and turns, an accumulation of odd coincidences, and an earnest protagonist readers will root for. Two characters, Dr. Snow and Reverend Whitehead, were real-life players in the cholera epidemic, and fictional Eel helps Dr. Snow prove that cholera was caused not by foul air but by the contaminated water from the local water pump. An authors note provides background on cholera and Dr. Snows research. dean schneider (c) Copyright 2013. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

A scrawny 12-year-old orphan named Eel changes history when he helps famous epidemiologist Dr. John Snow identify the source of a cholera outbreak in the streets of 1854 London. It's a vile summer in the city: "hot in a thick, wet sort of way, as if the sun were a giant who'd aimed his moist, stinky breath on us all." Chillingly, the Broad Street pump, popular for its cleaner-tasting water, is dispensing cholera with every push of the handle. The Broad Street pump story is a true one, and Hopkinson methodically chronicles the role of Dr. Snow in linking the "blue death" to London's water supply. It's impossible not to like the fictional Eel, who tells the tale in journal form from a first-person point of view, with a convincingly childcentric focus on lovable pets, lemon ice, trust and justice. Eel is a hard-edged softie who rescues drowning cats, tends to Dr. Snow's test animals, hides his little brother from their malevolent stepfather at great personal cost and ultimately helps solve the cholera mystery. Rough types such as Thumbless Jake and Nasty Ned pop up like cartoon villains, but Eel proves too slippery for them, and plenty of best-of-times goodness shines from the murk. A solid, somber dramatization of a real-life medical mystery. (epilogue, author's note, timeline, bibliography, acknowledgments) (Historical fiction. 9-12)]] Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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Riverfinders 1854 Monday, August 28 What we now call the Great Trouble began one thick, hot, foul-smelling morning in August. 'Course, I didn't know it then. No one did. I remember that day for quite another reason. I was supposed to be dead. But somehow he had found me out. It was early, and dark enough that most mudlarks weren't on the river yet. I liked this time best. The stink wasn't quite so bad for some reason. And it was quiet, since most folks in London were still sleeping. The bustle and noise of the old city would start up soon enough. Thumbless Jake was there, of course. The rest of us scavengers wondered if he ever did sleep. And on this particular morning, Jake was on edge, I expect because of spending so much time wading in that sludgy stink we called a river. So when he spied me snatchin' up something shiny from the murky water, he commenced hollering like a mad bull about to charge. And I should know. I might never have been on a farm in all my nearly thirteen years, but I'd seen my share of raging beasts at the old Smithfield livestock market, a fearful but exciting place. They'd moved it two years before, on account of the mayhem caused by throngs of cattle, pigs, goats, horses, and sheep tramping through the heart of the city. I was sad to see it go. "Give it here, Eel!" Jake shouted at once. He thrust out his long stick and lunged for my ankles. "Can't catch me," I taunted. I skittered out of reach, fast as I could, sticky brown mud squelching between my toes. "Don't be greedy. It's just a bit of rope." "Liar. 'Tain't rope at all. I seen it glitter with me own eyes. That's copper you got there." Thumbless Jake pointed the forefinger of his right hand--his good one--at me. "Play fair, Eel." "Why should I? No one's ever played fair with me." I said it, but that wasn't quite true. Even Jake himself had once done me a good deed. "Wicked, ungrateful lad," Jake growled, aiming a huge hunk of spit at me. Jake had been a blacksmith once, or so I'd heard from Ned (we called him Nasty Ned, on account of him being the worst-smelling lad on the river). "Gin was Jake's downfall," Ned had told me. "And then came the day he tippled so much he slammed a great hammer down on 'is own thumb." I tried to picture Jake's muscles as they must've been, rippling across his back like ever so many snakes. These days he used his arms for stealing copper off the hulls of ships and trolling for bits of the shiny stuff in the brown slop of low tide. "You are an eel," Jake declared. He paused to wipe his face with a corner of his ragged shirt, though I'm not sure why, as both were equally covered in filth. "Slippery and more hard-hearted than most. And that's sayin' a lot, with this 'ere pack of mudlarks." "I'll take that as a compliment." I grinned. "Hand it over. You poached on my bit o' river here," Jake said, his voice almost pleading now. "You gotta stay on the edge. Them's the rules, lad." "You're always goin' on about rules, Jake." I was bluffing, though, and Jake knew it. In the end, I'd have to give in. A big man like Jake could troll where he wanted. Kids like me had to keep to the edge of the grimy brown river, picking up pieces of coal, rope, rags, and wood at low tide. On a good day, I might collect enough coal to fill a pot and make a penny. Now that I had my place at the Lion Brewery over on Broad Street, I'd been mudlarking mostly just in the early mornings, when it was so hot even my stone cellar room seemed about to stifle me. It didn't bring in much, but I needed any extra tin I could get. "Have a heart, Eel." Jake fixed me with his wild blue eyes and tried again. "Ain't we all riverfinders? Put on this earth to try to get by, one day at a time. We're all we've got under this sky. We need to play fair and take care of one another. "If I'd known that sooner, I wouldn't have lost sweet Hazel and my kiddies," he went on, almost to himself, slapping the oily surface of the water with his stick. "All right," I relented at last. "You win. It's yours. Catch!" The big man lunged and missed, landing flat on his face, sputtering in the churning black water. I laughed and turned to go. But Jake had the last word. "You better watch out, Eel." He rose up, hollering at the top of his lungs. " 'E's been nosing around askin' after you, 'e has. Don't blame me--I had nothing to do with it. But 'e says a little birdie told him you ain't dead." "What?" I froze, digging my feet into the mud. "What did you say?" "You heard me, lad. You think you're clever, but just you watch out," Jake warned. "I ain't let on I knows anything about you. But Fisheye Bill Tyler is onto you--and a nastier man never walked the streets of London. He might've been an honest fishmonger once. Those days are gone. He's turned bad. Very bad indeed." "What did he say, Jake?" I demanded. "Why, Eel, he only wants what's 'is," Jake replied, trying to wipe streaks of dark mud from his grizzled face, this time with his fingers. "Fisheye said he just wants what belongs to 'im by rights." Jake hadn't touched a hair on my head. But it felt as though he'd knocked the breath right out of me. "You ain't seen me, Jake," I cried. "You hear me? You know nothin'. All you know is that the Thames got me." I took a ragged breath, the stink of the river almost making me retch. "You got that? I'm dead, carried out to sea in the arms of this muddy flow. Dead and gone." "What did you take of 'is, Eel? You must 'ave done something to make 'im that mad," Jake called after me, holding fast to the scrap of copper he'd finally fished out of the grimy water. I didn't stop. My insides had begun to shake like the last little leaf on a tree when the cold fingers of a biting wind come to snatch it. How had he found me out? I'd made sure that Fisheye had been told I was dead, swallowed up by the dirty old river, covered by its churning waters. For the last six months, I'd kept low and out of his way. And I'd kept my secret safe. Until now. How much did Fisheye know? And who had snitched? It might have been Jake himself. Trust was as rare on the river as finding a gold ring. No, I couldn't trust him. Thumbless Jake was right about one thing, though. Fisheye Bill Tyler wanted to control whatever he thought belonged to him--pickpockets, petty thieves, housebreakers. And me. Excerpted from The Great Trouble: A Mystery of London, the Blue Death, and a Boy Called Eel by Deborah Hopkinson All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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