Review by New York Times Review
THERE'S UNDENIABLE ENTERTAINMENT in watching an all-powerful Superman dish out justice to the bad guys. But it can be even more satisfying to see the job done by a hero without laser vision or invincibility or even much in the way of muscles. This is why underdogs work so well in children's literature, where, to the target readership, everything from a school bully to a burdensome homework assignment can feel as overwhelming as a supervillain. IS THERE ANY MORE classic underdog than the Victorian orphan? By all rights, Nan Sparrow - the spunky yet snarky protagonist of Jonathan Auxier's sweep (Amulet, 368 pp., $18.99; ages 8 to 12) - shouldn't even be alive, let alone leading a chimney sweep uprising. As if growing up female in 19th-century London weren't hard enough on its own, Nan's job keeps her perpetually filthy, malnourished, deprived of affection and forced to squeeze into lung-blackening spaces tight enough to give a hamster claustrophobia. (In what is sure to be a blow to Mary Poppins fans, the author's afterword explains how real-life sweeps had it even worse than those in the book.) Yet Nan perseveres. Granted, she's got the help of a magical soot golem. If you've ever wondered what Frosty the Snowman would be like if he were made of cinders and had awesome fire powers, that's Charlie the golem: a gift bequeathed to Nan by the kindly sweep who raised her among England's rooftops. Nan believes Charlie is meant to be her protector, but the creature is himself a childlike naif who needs Nan as much as she needs him, especially in a society that refuses to see him as anything but a monster. Many of the most entertaining and touching scenes involve Nan schooling Charlie on everything from the alphabet to the weather. ("I broke the snow!" Charlie cries when the flakes melt against his hot cinder hands.) When juxtaposed with flashbacks of the old Sweep raising Nan, these bits add a layer of beautifully bittersweet parenthood allegory to a tale that is both uplifting and heartbreaking. When Charlie has an "Of Mice and Men" moment, accidentally crushing a baby bird, readers are torn between sympathy, frustration and fear for the future of this oddly beautiful little family. But as one character wisely says about caring for others, "If you're not afraid, you're not doing it right." DANIEL JOSÉ older also uses the 1800s orphan theme in DACTYL HILL SQUAD (Scholastic, 256 pp., $16.99; ages 8 to 12), but he Ups the threat level significantly by placing his parentless protagonists square in the middle of the American Civil War. This is an alternate history, however, taking place in a world where dinosaurs escaped extinction. Triceratops pull wagons down cobblestone streets, iguanodons lift lamplighters to gas-powered lanterns, microdactyls deliver messages like toothier carrier pigeons, and, on a much less whimsical note, gun-toting gangs of hooded men spread terror from the saddled backs of raptors and ankylosaurs. Older fascinatingly blends thunder-lizard thrills with lesser-known but important aspects of American history. He starts the action (and then never really stops it) with a real-life incident: the burning of the Colored Orphan Asylum during the Draft Riots of 1863, when mobs of white New Yorkers, angered by their conscription into the Union Army, turned violently against their black neighbors. Suddenly homeless, the children face perils including the Kidnapping Club, a Jurassified version of a real gang who abducted free black people to sell into slavery. Aided by a pair of African-American Shakespearean actors (whose theater has also been torched), the young friends seek safe haven in the minority community of Dactyl Hill. Readers will adore Magdalys Roca, who becomes the de facto leader of the orphans, thanks to her unique ability to telepathically communicate with the dinosaurs. Far from a natural hero, Magdalys displays a realistic mix of terror and gumption in the face of the monsters around her, reptilian and human. Where else will her adventures carry her? There's another installment of this mind-bendingly original series coming, sure to be eagerly awaited. K. E. ORMSBEE'S THE HOUSE IN POPLAR WOODS (Chronicle, 344 pp., $16.99; ages 8 to 12) gives us three underdogs for the price of one. And while none may be full-on orphans, they've all got serious family issues. First, we have the Vickery twins, Lee and Felix, whose parents were bamboozled into signing a Faustian contract that has forever separated them. Now Mr. and Mrs. Vickery serve as apprentices to Death and Memory, respectively (yes, the literal personifications of those concepts - and they are capital-C Creepy), and although they live under the same roof, they remain eternally invisible to each other. Same goes for the brothers. Each is assigned to one parent, and they only see each other outside the house. It's a rough way to grow up. Until our third underdog comes into their lives - the rule-flouting iconoclast Gretchen Whipple, the black sheep of her own family, which has been embroiled in a generations-long Hatfield-and-McCoy-esque feud with the Vickerys. Gretchen goads the twins into helping her solve a murder mystery in which the prime suspect is Death itself. The boys are skeptical ("What do you mean? Death kills everyone"), but eventually realize that if they can prove Death has broken the rules and taken people before their appointed times, they might be able to nullify the diabolical contract that divides their family. Atmospheric and gripping, the book offers a boldly original take on the Grim Reaper concept, but never sacrifices entertainment for metaphysics (even while raising some thought-provoking questions). Ormsbee does a masterly job of juggling perspectives, keeping all the children distinct and fascinating in their own ways, while never losing the page-whipping pace of her well-crafted plot. THE ASSASSINATION OF BRANGWAIN SPURGE (Candlewick, 544 pp., $24.99; ages 10 and up), by M. T. Anderson and Eugene Yelchin, presents us with two "heroes" who are as un-Superman as one could get. One - Werfel, the goblin archivist - is more akin to Kal-El's scientist dad on Krypton, who knew what was going on but got ignored by his people and, well, we know how that turned out. The counterpart to Werfel is the titular Spurge, a scholarly envoy from the elf kingdom sent to deliver a peace offering to their age-old foes in hopes of a truce between the nations. In reality, Spurge has agreed to be a spy for his people - a hapless, naive, socially awkward spy, but a spy nonetheless. When Werfel - a lovable dork who adheres to the goblin credo that "hospitality was holy" - attempts to introduce the elf to goblin culture, things don't go as planned. The story is not only presented from two distinct viewpoints, it uses two distinct methods. In a brilliant storytelling device, Werfel's side of the tale comes to us in prose, while Spurge's comes in pictures - the elf's own mental images, which he secretly transmits to his superiors via magic spell. It's an ingenious way of showing how fear and xenophobia can affect someone's impressions of the unfamiliar. A traditional goblin dance, for instance, takes on the aura of a violent ritual in Spurge's mind's eye, and a parade of children looks like a wild army. Even Werfel himself, who tells readers he is shorter than his elfish guest, appears as a hulking monster in the illustrations. Yelchin's art, evocative of kookily surreal medieval woodcuts, is perfectly suited to the task. The book, which is on this year's National Book Award long list, is at times both moving and hilarious. Spurge is not just an unlikely hero - it's hard to know if he's a hero at all. But that only makes the finale of this political satire all the more surprising. Even more than if Clark Kent had been sent to spy for the elves. CHRISTOPHER HEALY is the author of the Hero's Guide trilogy. The first book in his new series, "A Perilous Journey of Danger & Mayhem: A Dastardly Plot," has just been published.
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [October 7, 2018]
Review by Booklist Review
*Starred Review* Victorian London is often magically made over in novels, and Auxier (The Night Gardener, 2014) uses Jewish folklore as kindling for his wondrous, yet at times grim, story of Nan Sparrow, one of London's cadre of child chimney sweeps. Nearly 12, she works for the heartless Wilkie Crudd, who is nothing like the fatherly Sweep, who taught Nan to climb a chimney better than any boy. Though the Sweep disappeared five years ago, she still dreams of him and keeps the warm lump of charcoal he left behind in her pocket. On a routine job, Nan gets stuck in a flue and is saved by the Sweep's coal, which reveals itself to be a golem. Nan lets Crudd believe she died and hides with the golem, Charlie, in an abandoned house. At first, the freedom is blissful, but as Charlie grows larger, Nan becomes concerned about keeping him safe though Nan is the one who needs protecting. Auxier wipes away the grime from a bleak chapter in history where children were forced to work dangerous jobs that claimed many lives. He questions what makes one a monster and applauds helping others, activism, education, earthly marvels, and the possibility of magic. Nan's fiery personality will attract readers like moths, and Auxier's unusual blend of mythology and history will keep them transfixed.--Julia Smith Copyright 2018 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
A chimney sweep disappears from a London rooftop, leaving six-year-old Nan Sparrow alone, save for a hat and a lump of mysteriously ever-warm charcoal-her char. To survive, Nan joins a gang of "climbing boys" owned by the abusive Wilkie Crudd. By age 11, she is the finest sweep of them all, but following a brutal chimney fire, she discovers that her char has become a golem, which she names Charlie, and that he has saved her life. As the two hide from Crudd, Nan grows to love Charlie and his particular brand of magic, and she learns that golems are, by nature, ephemeral: if Charlie can flame up, he can almost certainly flame out. A cast of fully fleshed (and sooted) characters contribute texture and community, and Auxier (The Night Gardener) mixes moments of triumph and pure delight (new snow, rooftop vistas) with dark, Dickensian themes (child labor, sickness, poverty). Told in two allusive sections-"Innocence" and "Experience," after Blake's volume-that pivot between Nan's past and present, this dazzling, warmhearted novel contemplates selflessness and saving, deep love and what makes a monster. Ages 8-12. Agent: Joe Regal, Regal Hoffmann & Assoc. (Sept.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review
Gr 5-8-A stunning historical fantasy novel about the power of friendship, our potential for courage, and the beauty of remembering loved ones, set in Victorian England. Nan is one of the many child sweeps who have the dangerous job of cleaning chimneys. She wakes one morning to find her beloved father figure, the Sweep, gone, a lump of char in his place. Years later, Nan gets caught in a chimney fire and is rescued by the char, who springs to life as a Golem named Charlie. Nan soon befriends a young teacher named Miss Bloom, from whom she learns that Golems no longer live after their purpose is served. When a young sweep dies, Nan, her fellow sweeps, and Miss Bloom organize a protest on May Day to reveal the dangers of their job to the general public. Meanwhile, Nan realizes the Golem's true purpose and with it, the difficulty of letting go. Auxier phenomenally weaves historical facts and fantasy. While the feats of these child sweeps seem incredible, Auxier provides back matter in the form of historical notes to clarify fact from fiction. Nan's strong yet vulnerable personality will appeal to readers, and a realistic set of secondary characters add depth to the plot. The novel's structure is a nod to William Blake and will delight teachers and librarians. VERDICT Excellent writing and skillful integration of historical fact with compelling characters make this a must-buy where middle grade fantasy is in demand.-Amy McInerney, Falmouth Elementary School, ME © 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.
Review by Horn Book Review
As a climbing girl in Victorian London, forced up into dangerous, narrow chimneys to sweep out the soot for her abusive master, Wilkie Crudd, Nan Sparrow leads a miserable life. But she has precious memories of the Sweep, the man who cared for hertold her stories and gave her food, made her believe in magic and kept her warmuntil the morning he vanished five years earlier. The Sweep left Nan two things: his hat and a small lump of heat-radiating soot she calls the char. One day, she gets stuck in a flue, and her nemesis Roger cruelly lights a fire to give her the motivation to free herself. Nan nearly dies, but when she regains consciousness, she finds that the char has saved her. The fire has awakened the soot creature; he and Nan escape from the cruel Crudd and secretly make a home in an abandoned mansion, where Nan works to protect the kind and gentle Charlie. As he grows to monstrous proportions, Nan must hide him from view and thus from harm, with the question always in her mind: Had she saved Charlie? Or had Charlie saved her? Her mudlark friend Toby tells her: Thats how it works, doesnt it? We are saved by saving others. Weaving together strands of Jewish folklore (Nan calls Charlie a soot golem), Blakes Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience, Shelleys Frankenstein, the history of child-labor reform, and his own threads of magical realism, Auxier crafts a beautiful, hopeful story out of some ugly realities of nineteenth-century British life. anita l. burkam (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.
Review by Kirkus Book Review
A young chimney sweep gathers an unusual family around her in this bittersweet historical fantasy of love and loss.Eleven-year-old Nan Sparrow's only legacies from the Sweep, her beloved mentor, are his hat and a strange lump of charcoal. After her fiery near death lets her escape her abusive master's control, this "char" awakens into a protective golem she names Charlie. Alas, Victorian London, however magical, is not kind to "climbing boys" of any gendernor to monsters, nor to any of the odd lot of outcasts that Nan befriends. Auxier (The Night Gardener, 2014, etc.) turns his imaginative whimsy and lyrical prose to a real historical horror; while never gratuitous, he does not shy away from the appalling conditions under which children labor, nor does he ignore the sacrifices and struggle to abolish the practice. The inclusion of two (possibly three) Jewish characters suggests the intertwining of anti-Semitism and class exploitation, while references to such authors as William Blake, Daniel Defoe, and Mary Shelley demonstrate how literature could fire imaginations and highlight oppression. But the vivid characterstough, whip-smart Nan; lovable, childlike Charlie; their engaging companions; even the marvelously Dickensian villainsprevent the story from becoming either dry history lesson or political screed. As Nan painfully, tentatively, haltingly permits love to make her vulnerable, she also gains strength and purpose: "We are saved by saving others."As heartbreaking as bleak midwinterand as hopeful as early spring. (author's note, historical note) (Historical fantasy. 8-12) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
