Tess of the road

Review by New York Times Review

SUMMER BRINGS with it car trips - or, as they are otherwise known, yawning vacancies of hours. Consider it a service to your family to load up on the audiobooks now, so you can pop them in whenever the kids need beguiling. Begin by reintroducing them to Hans Christian Andersen - but only after forgetting everything you learned about him from Disney or Danny Kaye. There is, in fact, nothing benign about the great Dane. Thumbelina is kidnapped from the woman who grows her in a tulip from a grain of barley and nearly coerced into marriages with, sequentially, a toad and a mole. (Was Kenneth Grahame eavesdropping?) The Little Mermaid, desperate to meet her beloved prince on dry land, allows a witch to cut out her tongue in exchange for a pair of feet, which give her the sensation of walking on knives. The Steadfast Tin Soldier is swallowed by a fish and tossed into a fire. As for the Little Match Girl, literature has never provided a more depressing New Year's Eve, or a more compelling argument for child-labor laws. With that caveat in mind, HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN'S FAIRY TALES (Listening Library, 5 Hours, 50 minutes), narrated with surprising restraint by F. Murray Abraham and abetted by a cast of brightly pitched voice actors, offers just the kind of lush, unexpurgated introduction to the classic storyteller that any preteen book lover can warm to. Andersen's penchant for scene-setting and digression can push the running time of some stories toward the one-hour mark ("The Little Mermaid") and beyond ("The Snow Queen"). But "The Princess and the Pea," with its 20 mattresses and 20 eiderdown quilts, clocks in at a fleet three minutes, and reminds us in closing that "the pea was exhibited in the royal museum, and you can go there and see it, if it hasn't been stolen." It was no prop, the little book that Khizr Khan whipped out during his high-octane critique of Donald J. Trump at the 2016 Democratic National Convention. For years, Khan had made a point of carrying around pocket Constitutions just like it and passing them out to visitors at his Virginia home like calling cards. That deep-dyed patriotism now finds perhaps its most natural form in THIS IS OUR CONSTITUTION (Listening Library, 4 Hours, 16 minutes), Khan's concise and lucid middle-grade primer. In addition to gleaning the why and wherefore behind America's foundational document, teenage listeners will meet up with the Declaration of Independence and a roster of seminal Supreme Court decisions. The actor Sunil Malhotra capably voices the book's nitty-grittier sections, but it is Khan's weighty and lightly sorrowful timbre - and his lived perspective as a Pakistani immigrant - that bookend the work and color each sentence. Reflecting on the most recent election, he refers obliquely to "certain politicians" who "encouraged ugly prejudices," but no scores are settled here, and, wherever possible, Khan leans toward hope: "I know the Constitution will endure because I've seen the dignity and the decency of the American people." The heroine of Rachel Hartman's TESS OF THE ROAD (Listening Library, 16 Hours, 15 minutes) is, to hear her family members tell it, a "spank magnet," "singularly and spectacularly flawed, subject to sins a normal girl should never have been prone to." And if these descriptions haven't already put you on her side, consider that she has a prig for a mother, a half-dragon for an older sister and a goody-goody twin who, unlike Tess, is marrying the man of her dreams. Tess celebrates that wedding by bloodying the nose of one of her new relations. Threatened with confinement in a nunnery, she takes to the road, where she adopts both a male disguise (shades of "As You Like It") and a newly-male traveling companion, Pathka, from the hermaphroditic dragon subspecies known as quigutl. Gender and its discontents indeed form the central theme of Hartman's entertaining picaresque, which picks up where her two previous fantasy novels, "Seraphina" and "Shadow Scale," left off: in a medieval world shot through with modern concerns. The book takes its time getting on the highway, and the slow pace is exacerbated by Katharine McEwan's demure and deliberate narration, which drains some of the pungency from Hartman's prose. In the end, the sly wit of lines like "dying took commitment. It was easier to go on living incompetently" may register better on the page than in the earbuds. I confess I had fun imagining the elevator pitch for Henry Lien's fantasy debut: "It's Hermione Granger meets 'Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon' meets the Ice Capades meets 'Mean Girls.' " For all its disparate ingredients, though, PEASPROUT CHEN: FUTURE LEGEND OF SKATE AND SWORD (Macmillan Audio, 9 Hours, 8 minutes) speaks in a single, strong voice, thanks to its spirited heroine, a parentless girl of 14 who has traveled to the glistening city of Pearl with the goal of mastering wu liu, "the beautiful and deadly art of martial skating." Dreaming of glory, she enrolls with her little brother, Cricket, at Pearl Famous Academy, where, according to one sensei, "the effectiveness of our institution's curriculum is directly proportional to the misery of the student." The narrator, Nancy Wu, finds just the right blade edge between girlish naivete and brashness for our protagonist, who isn't about to be cowed by teenage queen bees or distracted by romance, and who registers her nearconstant displeasure with epithets like "Ten thousand years of stomach gas!" (She also believes that "boys who have dimples overuse them," which is empirically true.) When we last saw Roz - known to her makers as "ROZZUM unit 7134" - in Peter Brown's 2016 novel, "The Wild Robot," she was a battered hunk of steel being airlifted from her island home for repairs and rebooting. In the opening pages of THE WILD ROBOT ESCAPES (Hachette Audio, 4 Hours, 36 minutes), Brown's equally charming sequel, she turns up nearly good as new at the Shareef farm, where her ability to speak to animals in their native tongues makes her a natural for wrangling livestock. But in the midst of her thriving new career, Roz is dogged by an old sorrow - the adopted gosling-son she was forced to leave behind - as well as an ever-present fear that if her human owners learn what's behind her metallic facade, they'll destroy her. "And that is why, when the time is right," she resolves, "I will try to escape." How she goes about that improbable mission, and with whose help, makes for a touching and suspenseful tale, even for listeners who are coming to Brown's heroine for the first time. The narrator, Kathleen Mclnerney, is adept at finding the warm pulse beneath Roz's monotone delivery, and the array of old-school radio sound effects - clicks and squeaks and moos and honks - gives "The Wild Robot Escapes" a texture beyond words. Best of all, listeners get a bonus PDF of Brown's spooky and evocative black-andwhite illustrations. Robots, dragons, martial ice-skaters, Hans Christian Andersen and the wonders of the United States Constitution. Consider it a healthy harvest of summer entertainment for your kids. And, if you're so inclined, keep the same audiobooks around for your own leisure breaks (should they ever arise). louis bayard is the author, most recently, of "Lucky Strikes."

Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [August 2, 2018]

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Review by Booklist Review

*Starred Review* In her triumphant return to the world of Seraphina (2012), Hartman introduces Tess Dombegh, one of Seraphina's stepsiblings. After a shattering fall from grace, Tess has tried to be the dutiful daughter to her critical mother. She may never be good, but maybe she can be good enough to be forgiven. When Tess drunkenly ruins her sister's wedding night, she's almost relieved to run away. Disguised as a boy, she seeks oblivion on the road; instead, she's invited to help find a legendary serpent by her childhood friend, a quigutl (dragon subspecies). Along the way, Tess runs afoul of robbers, works as a manual laborer, poses as a priest, and struggles to make peace with past trauma. First in a duology, this is a perfect example of a familiar fantasy trope being given new dimension through empathetic characters and exquisite storytelling. At first appearing bitter and self-pitying, Tess reveals compassion, courage, and resilience on her journey, which is as emotional and spiritual as it is physical. This achingly real portrayal of a young woman whose self-loathing takes help to heal is a perceptive examination of rape culture rare in high fantasy. Not to be ignored, this is also a fascinating road trip adventure. Absolutely essential. HIGH-DEMAND BACKSTORY: The publisher knows how much readers and critics loved Seraphina, so their heavy promotion plans and an author tour should stir up plenty of buzz.--Hutley, Krista Copyright 2017 Booklist

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

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Review by School Library Journal Review

Gr 9 Up-Tess Dombegh has spent her whole life unable to live up to her angelic twin, Jeanne, and her half-dragon stepsister, Seraphina. When Tess can no longer take the disapproval of her parents, she runs away. Disguised as a boy for protection, she meets her childhood friend, a small dragon named Pathka, who invites her to help him find a legendary serpent, Anathuthia. On the road, Tess learns to deal with the tragedies of her past-rape, a lost baby, abuse from her family, and her self-hatred-while helping several people along the way and becoming truly herself. Hartman has masterfully built her world, and narrator Katharine McEwan does an excellent job portraying those who live in it. McEwan has a personality for each character, capturing the emotionlessness of the dragons, Tess's doubt, and the colorful people Tess meets on the road. The created languages and unique sayings of the story really lend themselves to the audio format. VERDICT Fans of Hartman's Seraphina will be drawn back into the stories of Goredd and will be clamoring for more.-Sarah Flood, Breckinridge County Public Library, Hardinsburg, KY © Copyright 2018. 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

Narrated by McEwan in a crisply enunciated English accent, this fantasy (a companion to Hartmans Seraphina, rev. 7/12) follows the anarchic Tess as the seventeen-year-old misfit almost ruins her twin sisters wedding, disguises herself as a boy, and sets off on a journey, reuniting with her quigutul (subspecies of dragon) best friend. Hartmans writing combines sly humor with piercing insight into her characters and their emotions, and she continues the world-building begun in Seraphina (whose title character is Tesss half sister and who plays a role here). The audio CD includes a PDF with a list of characters and a glossary. susan dove lempke (c) Copyright 2018. 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

Hartman returns to Goredd with the tale of another young woman who breaks the rules in search of herself. There are three Dombegh sisters: naughty Tess, perfect twin Jeanne, and famous, talented older sister Seraphina (of Seraphina, 2012, and Shadow Scale, 2015). Now 17, haunted by past mistakes, immersed in self-denial and the need to follow "proper" behavior, white Tesswho once befriended lizardlike Quigutl and secretly attended lecturesis miserable. After drunkenly punching her new brother-in-law at Jeanne's wedding, Tess dresses as a boy and takes off. She travels across Goredd and Ninys in search of a Quigutl prophecy and her own purpose in a sometimes-episodic tale narrated in descriptive, sharply observant third-person prose. Angry, bitter Tess has reason for her feelings but is not always easy to walk with, and the slow reveal of her past makes for a compelling read on the ways in which girlsin the quasi-Renaissance Goredd and also in the real worldare taught to take blame on themselves even when others are culpable. Fortunately, the Road has answers ("walk on"), and by the end Tess has faced her past and can look forward to another volume of adventure, discovery, and changing her world.Like Tess' journey, surprising, rewarding, and enlightening, both a fantasy adventure and a meta discourse on consent, shame, and female empowerment. (dramatis personae, glossary; not seen) (Fantasy. 13-adult) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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One   The twins had taken their morning stitchery to the Tapestry Salon, one of the less fashionable sitting rooms in the palace. Jeanne liked the quiet, and Tess the tapestries, which depicted a seagoing adventure involving serpents and icebergs and flying fish. A younger Tess might have gone in search of the weavers to ask them what legend they (or their forebears) had been trying to depict; she might have scoured the library for references or asked Pathka the quigutl, who knew an awful lot about serpents of every sort.   Tess the lady-­in-­waiting, however, sadder and sixteen, had no time for such involved and esoteric interests. Who would have dressed old Lady Farquist if Tess was selfishly haring off after her personal curiosity? More important: who would put Jeanne forward in the world and find her a husband?   Jeanne, embroidering at the other end of the couch, was too sweet and mild to do it herself. If she were, left to her own devices, no one would have noticed her at all.   "Lady Eglantine's soiree is tonight," Tess was saying as she basted a new sash onto Jeanne's blue satin gown. She'd add mother-­of-­pearl beads, too--­she'd gleaned some off Lady Mayberry in exchange for a particularly succulent bit of gossip--­and no one would recognize the dress when she was done. The Dombegh twins couldn't afford many new clothes, so Tess, the stronger seamstress, had learned to be resourceful.   "Couldn't we stay in for once?" said Jeanne, leaning her blond head against the back of the velveteen couch and gazing out the window at the snowy courtyard. "I'm tired of all this."   Jeanne was tired? Imagine the tiredness of the person who dressed her, altered her clothes, and carried her messages. The one who vetted eligible bachelors and navigated the treacherous web of palace politics with no thought for herself, doing everything for Jeanne's happiness and that their family might be saved. That person must be bloody exhausted.   Tess basted fiercely, stabbing the needle in and out, and kept her mouth clamped shut.   The twins had no option but to attend every soiree until Jeanne's future was settled. Tess frowned over her work, trying to find the words that would best persuade her sister. "I've heard a certain someone is going to be there," she said, tilting her head and batting her brown eyes.   Jeanne knew whom Tess meant, and blushed, but still she opened her mouth to protest.   And that was when the miracle happened: the door of the salon flew open and there stood a strapping young man of twenty-­two, Lord Richard Pfanzlig, the exact same "certain someone" Tess had alluded to.   Tess hadn't planned this meeting; the spooky timeliness of his appearance raised the hairs on her arms. He looked windblown, flakes of snow glistening in his thick dark hair; his commanding nose shone red from the cold, and his cloak swirled dramatically around him.   Tess's heart quickened, though he wasn't here for her. She didn't want him for herself or envy Jeanne (more than usual), but he cut a romantic figure, and Tess was not immune to romance, in spite of everything.   He whipped off his cloak, tossed it toward a chair, and missed, but no matter. All eyes were upon his finely fitted maroon-­and-­gold doublet, his trunk hose, and his shiny, shiny boots. Or maybe his eyes, which smoldered at Jeanne from across the room.   Jeanne couldn't bear it. She squeaked and grew intent upon the shepherdess in her embroidery hoop. Tess sighed inwardly, praying her shy sister wouldn't spoil this opportunity.   "I heard Lord Chauncerat intended to ask for your hand," cried Lord Richard, clasping a fist to his chest. "Am I too late?"   So that was why he'd come. Tess resumed her stitching with some satisfaction. Lord Chauncerat, of course, had made no proposal; he was a Daanite, uninterested in women, but he kept it secret. Tess had found out, or more accurately, something in his gaze had reminded her of Cousin Kenneth and she'd guessed. For her silence, Lord Chauncerat had permitted her to take his name in vain and start the tiniest rumor that he might have a modicum of interest in Jeanne.   That was all it took at court. You put a copper coin in the gossip engine, every tongue polished it up, and it came out unrecognizably golden. By the time the rumor reached Lord Richard's ears, it would've been inflated to ridiculous proportions. He'd burst in as if expecting to interrupt the wedding itself.   Jeanne wasn't finding her voice. Tess bailed her out: "Indeed, Lord Richard, you have arrived just in time."   His face lit up as if Jeanne herself had spoken, and not Jeanne's oracle at the other end of the couch. Tess didn't mind. She'd have plunged her hand into her sister's back and moved her mouth like a ventriloquist's dummy's if that would have helped.   Lord Richard crossed the room in three strides and dropped to one knee before Jeanne. The embroidery stand was in his way; Tess edged over and hooked it with her foot. Jeanne's eyes widened as the frame drifted away, leaving her no choice but to meet Lord Richard's eyes.   She looked at her hands. Tess cursed silently.   It wasn't that Jeanne didn't like this suitor; the problem was entirely that she did, rather a lot, and that she'd been raised on the strictures of St. Vitt to keep her desires severely under wraps. It was devilishly hard to encompass both.   Tess felt for her, but this was important.   Lord Richard took Jeanne's hands--­clever Richard!--­and Jeanne looked up at last, flushing pink all over. She was beautiful even pink, Tess noted with some satisfaction. Richard seemed to think so, too, because he pressed her knuckles to his lips.   Tess tried not to watch, even though she was supposed to be the chaperone, guaranteeing that nothing got out of hand. Privately she sort of wished things would get out of hand, just a little. It would have eased her heart to think that even pure, virginal Jeanne was a mere mortal.   As if Lord Richard could read Tess's mind, he released Jeanne's hands and was back on his feet again, two yards of decency between them. Tess sighed.   "Jeanne," he said gruffly, his heart evidently in his throat, "I want to marry you. Would you have a fellow like me?"   A rich, handsome fellow who seemed utterly smitten with her? Unless she was terribly stupid. Tess snipped a stray thread with her scissors; she hadn't raised Jeanne to be stupid. She hadn't made every mistake she could possibly make, hadn't given everything up, so that Jeanne could sit there, saying nothing, as if she were stupid.   "Say yes, Nee," Tess mumbled around the needle between her teeth.   Jeanne rose, her green day dress draping demurely around her, and curtsied to Lord Richard. There should have been no suspense, but Tess found herself sweating all the same, her eyes glued to the duo, tall and dark facing short and pale. Lord Richard fidgeted with a button on his doublet, which Tess found humanizing and endearing. If Jeanne should turn him down, it was going to take a lot of looking to find another suitor half this well suited.   In a voice so sure and strong that Tess couldn't quite believe it was her sister speaking, Jeanne said, "Lord Richard, I would happily accept your offer, but do you understand my family's situation? My father was unjustly stripped of his law license, and we've struggled ever since. I should feel ashamed to put too great a burden on your house, and so I cannot agree to marry you without being certain you know how many obligations come with me."   Tess's jaw dropped; this was not part of the script. That is, it was the truth--­the family desperately needed Jeanne to marry for money--­but it was nothing anyone would, or could or should, utter aloud. This was a game everyone played but no one acknowledged. Tess felt vaguely sick. She'd worried that Jeanne would look too mercenary, and here was Jeanne herself, laying it all out on the table.   Lord Richard, however, was smiling, and not a strained what have I gotten myself into? smile, but a smile full of warmth and gentleness that almost took Tess's breath away. "My dear, there is no burden your family could place upon my house that we could not easily bear, or that I would not willingly take on for your sake."   Saints above, he was perfect. Jeanne deserved no less. How had they gotten so lucky? If Tess felt a self-­pitying pang for her own ill fortune, for Will and Dozerius and everything else she'd lost, she suppressed the feeling almost before she noticed it. This was not the time; the moment was all Jeanne's, as was right.   Jeanne, her courage spent, returned to her bashful, blushing self again. She stammered something adorably grateful; Richard, all passion, took her hands once more. He shot a glance at Tess, asking permission. Tess nodded curtly and turned her eyes resolutely to her hemming.   She didn't keep them there. She peeked through her lashes and thought her heart would burst as Lord Richard chastely kissed Jeanne's cheek. Tess recalled such joys, even if she would never again experience them; indeed, she wanted more than that for Jeanne--­he should kiss her lips at least!--­but Lord Richard came from a devout household, as strict as theirs, and passion could not override his upbringing. Not today, anyway.   He didn't linger, either, because it would not do to have tales told. One of Jeanne's great appeals, in the absence of money, was that she had not the faintest whiff of scandal about her. She was innocence incarnate. Lord Richard wouldn't compromise himself by compromising her.   When he left, Jeanne turned toward her twin. Tess's smile froze when she realized her sister's eyes had filled with tears.   "Dear heart, those are tears of joy, I hope?" said Tess softly, holding out her hand.   Jeanne flopped onto the couch and laid her head on Tess's shoulder, where she began to weep in earnest.   Tess set her sewing aside and put her arms around her sister, saying, "No, no, why are you sad? If you dislike Lord Richard, we will find you someone else. Never mind the money, never mind how long it takes. Papa and Mama will find a way to send Paul to school. Seraphina will swoop in and fix everything--­" She wouldn't, in fact, because she couldn't, and Jeanne knew this as well as Tess did, but Tess felt it incumbent upon herself to keep her mouth moving, to keep her sister's spirits up. "Something will come through for us. It always does."   Jeanne drew her handkerchief out of her bodice and held it to her streaming nose. "That's not it, Sisi. I'm happy to marry Richard. I believe I may be a bit in love with him."   Tess drew herself up a little, taken aback. "Whatever is the matter, then?"   Jeanne's cheeks were speckled like a rosy quail egg, her eyes rimmed in pink. "I can't help remembering that you're older than me, whatever we may pretend to the world. I don't deserve this honor and happiness, not when they should have been yours."   Tess's heart contracted, wringing out the unselfish joy she'd felt earlier. Wasn't this typical, though? Not only did Tess not get what should have been hers by birth, but now she had to comfort dear, tenderhearted Jeanne, who was upset by the unfairness of it. Tess did not often feel true resentment toward her sister, but in this moment she did. Soothing Jeanne's guilt, on top of everything else, seemed a bit much to ask.   "There, there," she said, patting her sister's back mechanically. "We both know I've gotten what I deserved. If I had really valued any of these things, surely I'd have had the good sense not to throw them away."   Jeanne sniffled and nodded. Tess turned her face away, unwilling to let her sister glimpse any anger in her eyes. It wasn't Jeanne's fault; every ounce of blame could be ascribed to Tess herself. Could be and should be. She ascribed it with all her might.   Only an ungrateful bitch of a sister could feel angry at dear, gentle Jeanne.   Tess walked through the rest of her day, waiting on Lady Farquist, laughing at gentlemen's jokes during dinner, steering Jeanne's footsteps toward the obligatory soiree. Jeanne and Richard exchanged lingering glances across the room but said no more than a coy word to each other. Tess didn't care what they did; she was marking time until she could finally be alone.   Around midnight, Tess closed the door to her little room, which was technically a walk-­in closet; her "elder" sister got the suite's main boudoir. She fished around behind Jeanne's hanging gowns and three pairs of shoes and drew out a little bottle of plum brandy, which she'd won off Lady Morena. She rationed the stuff religiously, because one never knew when it would be possible to obtain another, but tonight she filled her little glass three times. The fumes streaked painfully up her nose (plum brandy was not as delicious as it sounded), making her cough every time she exhaled, but she didn't mind. She flopped onto her cot, pleasantly dizzy, and joy was finally able to rise up in her again, a single bubble of hope.   After two years at court, diligently securing her sister's future, Tessie would be free. Excerpted from Tess in Boots by Rachel Hartman 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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