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Lola Loves Stories by Anna McQuinn

McQuinn, Anna. Lola Loves Stories. Illustrated by Rosalind Beardshaw. Alanna Books, 2009. Charlesbridge, 2010.

This picture book is the second in a series of nine books about Lola and her family and their love affair with books and libraries and reading. The first book, Lola at the Library, is more informational, showing how Lola goes to the library with her mommy and checks out books and listens to the librarian tell stories during story time. In Lola Loves Stories, we get to read about and see how the books Lola borrows from the library work themselves into her imagination and her playtime.

Every Saturday Lola and her daddy go to the library where Lola finds some “excellent books.” When they come home, they read the books together, one book each evening. And every day as she plays with friends and alone, Lola acts out the many themes and characters in the stories she has read. She becomes a fairy princess, an adventurer, a tiger, and one day just a girl with sparkly shoes. There’s even a not-so-subtle nod to Max and his imagination in Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak.

I love that this picture book is so simple, with brief, large print sentences, and yet so stimulating to the imagination for even the youngest (and oldest) readers. I like that Daddy takes Lola to the library in this book, and that Lola and her friend Ben have a play tea party with their baby dolls in strollers beside them.

The Lola Reads series is originally from a British author, written for a British audience, but either it’s been Americanized or the concepts and vocabulary are simple enough to reach across the ocean. The original British title is Lulu Loves Stories. I didn’t catch any Anglicisms that would need to be explained to an American child. Just a simple story about a child reading with her parents and acting out what she hears and reads.

Other books about Lola include:

  • Lola at the LIbrary
  • Lola Plants a Garden
  • Lola Gets a Cat
  • Lola Reads to Leo
  • Lola Meets the Bees
  • Lola Goes to School
  • Lola Sleeps Over
  • Lola’s Nana-Bibi Comes to Visit

This Picture Book Preschool book can be borrowed by member families from Meriadoc Homeschool Library.

The Tiger Who Came to Tea by Judith Kerr

Kerr, Judith. The Tiger Who Came to Tea. W. Collins (London), 1968.

This picture book is quite well known and popular in Britain, practically a classic, but not so well known in the U.S. As one can tell from the title, it’s a very British sort of story. Nevertheless, American children as well as those from other countries should be able to appreciate this whimsical tale of an unexpected tiger who comes to visit and eats up all the food and drink in the house. Words such as “tap” and “tins” and “biscuits” and “packets” and even “tea” may need to be redefined for those same American children, but that’s part of the fun.

The illustrations are bold and simple, perfect for preschoolers. And the Tiger is big but not scary. Even though the Tiger does look rather ravenous throughout, there’s no hint that the little girl in the story is afraid or worried that the Tiger will finish off his meal with her. In fact, she snuggles up to him and plays with his tail in the pictures. The girl and her parents do have to come up with a solution for the lack of food and drink in the house after the Tiger leaves. And they also make a plan just in case the Tiger makes a return visit: a big box of Tiger Food to keep on hand.

Sometimes British humor is, well, somewhat foreign to my American understanding, but this book is spot on. It’s short and sweet, also memorable and imaginative, and I can see why it has been a children’s literature staple in Britain since its publication in 1968. It reminds me a little bit of Where The Wild Things Are, published in 1964, or The Cat in the Hat from 1957. But it’s more precious, in a good way, and more British. This book is another one that I will definitely be adding to Picture Book Preschool in the new edition.

This Picture Book Preschool book can be borrowed by member families from Meriadoc Homeschool Library.

Rooftoppers by Katherine Rundell

Often I read twenty-first century middle grade fiction books in which the writing ranges from average to good, and I could recommend the book as a decent read—except for one minor dealbreaker or content advisory. Maybe the book has an evil character who swears once or twice, or the author has inserted a bit of modern propaganda or a minor character is added only to please the diversity crowd. I can overlook a certain amount of this kind of thing, but others may not be willing to do so. Then, I try to tell people the facts and let them decide.

Rooftoppers, a very popular British import, is in a different class. (Rooftoppers are abandoned and orphan children who live on the rooftops of Paris.) The writing–the metaphors and the sentence structures and the word choice–is excellent. I’ll give you a few examples, chosen almost at random:

“When they began to play, the music was different. It was sweeter, wilder. Sophie sat up properly and shifted forward until only half an inch of her bottom was on her seat. It was so beautiful that it was difficult for her to breathe. If music can shine, Sophie thought, this music shone. It was like all the voices in all the choirs in the city rolled into a single melody.”

“Money can make people inhuman. It is best to stay away from people who care too much about money, my darling. They are people with shoddy, flimsy brains.”

“Sophie looked and gasped. Below her feet, Paris stretched out toward the river. Paris was darker than London: It was a city lit in blinks and flickers. And it was Fabergé-egg beautiful, she thought. It was magic carpet stuff.”

“To most things in life, there is no trick, but to balance, Sophie thought, there was a trick of sorts. The trick was knowing where to find your center; balance lay somewhere between her stomach and her kidneys. It felt like a lump of gold in amongst brown organs. It was difficult to find, but once found, it was like a place marked in a book–easy to recover. “

The story itself is good, too. One year old Sophie survives the sinking of her ship at sea. She is taken in by her fellow survivor and rescuer, the eccentric scholar Charles Maxim. Charles is a wonderful guardian, but the powers-that-be, child care officers and social welfare committees, finally decide, just after Sophie’s twelfth birthday, that she must be removed to an orphanage so that she can be properly cared for–no more trousers and no writing on the walls and and no Charles Maxim to encourage her unorthodox ways. Sophie and Charles are both devastated. Coincidentally, just before Sophie is set to leave, guardian and child find an important clue about Sophie’s mother, who is said to have died when the ship sank. There is just the slightest possibility that she didn’t die, that she is somewhere in Paris. And so Sophie and Charles Maxim run away to Paris to look for Sophie’s cello-playing mother, and there they discover the Rooftoppers.

So far, so good. Excellent writing, a lively plot, endearing characters, building action–I can see why the book was an award-winning, best-selling success in Britain and why it is becoming more and more well known in the U.S. I had a very bright young lady recommend the book to me when I was in Ireland a few years ago, but I’m just now getting around to reading it.

But . . . our young protagonist, Sophie, with “hair the color of lightning”, “tall and generous and bookish and awkward”, also spits and curses. She curses and uses God’s name in vain several times in the course of the story. And it’s totally acceptable to her own conscience and to everyone else in the story. There’s nary an admonition, and no one blinks an eye. And then, there’s the fight scene. Sophie and her friends, the Rooftoppers, are attacked by another gang of young rooftoppers on a roof, of course. The children fight with teeth and nails, sharpened bone daggers, stones, and at least one knife. They bite and scratch and throw rocks and roof slates and draw blood, and Sophie kicks one of her (male) opponents in the crotch, rendering him incapacitated. The advice Sophie gets during the fight is serious and dangerous: “Punch like you mean it.” Kick him if you can’t punch him.” “Kicking is less personal.” “Do not mess with rooftoppers.”

So. Dealbreaker? I couldn’t hand this one to any of my young library patrons without a warning at least. And I won’t shelve it in my library, even though the author, “a fellow in English literature at All Souls College, Oxford’ has talent. I just wish she had left out the cursing and toned down the fighting.

Linnets and Valerians by Elizabeth Goudge

Linnets and Valerians is a beautiful, truth-filled, engaging fantasy story by one of my favorite authors that I’m afraid will be problematic for many Christian readers. It shouldn’t be problematic to acknowledge that there is a spiritual realm of both good and evil and that spiritual battles must sometimes be fought by unconventional means. But witchcraft and spells, even good ones that counter evil, are a snare and anathema to some people, even reading about such things, so follow your own conscience.

Four endearing but rather naughty siblings–Robert, Nan, Timothy, and Betsy– are left to stay with their grandmother while their father is in Egypt with his regiment. “Grandmother said they were insubordinate; Father only thought them high-spirited.” Since the children’s first acts in the book are to run away from grandmother’s house and to “borrow” a pony and cart full of someone’s else’s groceries, I tend to agree with Grandmother. But the children turn out to be charming, nevertheless.

And they don’t stay with Grandmother very long. It’s not much of a spoiler, since the change happens in the second chapter of the book, to tell that the four incorrigible children end up living with their Uncle Ambrose, a Church of England clergyman, former educator, and inveterate bachelor. Uncle Ambrose also claims to dislike children, but he takes his nephews and nieces into his home anyway. And so the adventure begins.

Since this is a fantasy story there is magic, both black magic and white. Since it’s an Elizabeth Goudge story there are families to be reunited. And since it’s essentially a story with Christian underpinnings and a fairy tale of sorts, there is a happy ending where all’s well that ends well. But before we get to the happy ending, there is also a witch and evil spells and good counter-spells. That’s the part that’s going to be a deal-breaker for some readers. In short, if Harry Potter is a an offense to your conscience, then Linnets and Valerians is not for you either. I wish Goudge had used prayer instead of “white magic” to fight off the evil in the book, but in a way the prayers and common sense of Uncle Ambrose are weapons in the battle, too.

Still, I thought it was a fantastic story. Robert is the quintessential plucky British boy with a big, but very practical, imagination. He tends to get himself and his siblings into trouble with his schemes and ideas, but Nan, the sensible older sister, is there to keep Robert somewhat in check. Timothy is imaginative, too, but he tends toward being delicate and sensitive and thoughtful rather than “a force to be reckoned with.” And little Betsy has both the sweetness and the toughness of a youngest child. Uncle Ambrose is curmudgeonly, with a heart of gold, and each of the other characters has his or her own eccentric personality and peculiarities, including Emma Cobley the witch, Ezra the beekeeper servant, Moses Glory Glory Alleluja, Lady Alicia, Abednego the monkey, Hector the owl, and even Daft Davie who lives in a cave up on the hill.

With wonderful characters such as these, Elizabeth Goudge weaves a plot that takes the children all over the surrounding countryside and into the ancient manor house of Lady Alicia, who lives a secluded life after having lost her husband and her only child. Lady Alicia’s only companions are Abednego the mischievous monkey and one servant, Moses Glory Glory Alleluja –until the children intrude on her life and indeed begin to bring her back to life. Full story to follow.

If you can get past the witchiness and “white magic”, this one of only two children’s books by Elizabeth Goudge (the other is The Little White Horse) is, dare I say, pure magic. It reminds me of a hymn of praise and a prayer for protection from evil, and there is in fact a hymn of praise and invocation inserted into the story. I wish I knew a tune for it.

Glory, children, glory alleluja,
Praise to the Lord.
Great glory for sun and moon and star shine,
And for His Word.

Glory that wells, streams, and flowing fountains
Sing to His praise,
That the snows laud him, frost fire, and rainbows
The nights and days.

Glory, children, glory alleluja
For birds and bees,
For shepherd and sheep upon the mountains,
Valleys and trees.

Is it glory for the gift o’ children
To guard an’ keep?
Varmints and scoundrels, I love ’em only
When they’re asleep.

Linnets and Valerians, p.97-98

This book can be borrowed by member families from Meriadoc Homeschool Library.

Once a Queen by Sarah Arthur

At first, I thought this 2024 middle grade/YA fantasy novel from Waterbrook Press was Narnia fan fiction, or perhaps a Narnia sequel, Susan’s Story: Once a Queen in Narnia or something like that. (“Once a king or queen of Narnia, always a king or queen of Narnia.”) That expectation was a disservice to the novel as it is. Sarah Arthur’s story certainly has strong echoes of Narnia, as well as being indebted to E. Nesbit, George MacDonald, Elizabeth Goudge, and Madeleine L’Engle, influences the author acknowledges in an author’s Q & A in the back of the book. So in my defense, I didn’t know, and the Narnia-love was there from the beginning.

I would advise readers to take Once a Queen on its own terms and NOT try to compare or find connections to any other stories or worlds until you get to the end. In this particular story, fourteen year old American Eva Joyce comes with her British mother to visit her estranged grandmother in the family manor of Carrick Hall in the West Midlands region of England. The year is 1995. Eva has been nurtured by the classic fantasy tales and children’s books, especially the Ternival tales of Mesterra by A.H.W. Clifton. She’s never actually experienced a magical portal to another world, however, even though this trip to England feels a bit like a fairy tale.

And the story does turn into a fairy tale, complete with magical worlds, an evil queen, secret gardens, fantastical creatures, and a quest to be completed. And secrets. Lots of secrets. Eva’s mum has secrets. Eva’s grandmother has secrets. Eva herself discovers so many wondrous secret things that she finds herself unable to keep all of the secrets straight. Who can be told about what, and when, and how? And what secrets are being withheld from Eva and why? This whole secret motif is the weakest part of the book: too many people keeping too many secrets for too little reason. Nevertheless, I resigned myself to getting bits of information doled out to me in each chapter –reluctantly and incompletely.

The novel itself alternates between strange occurrences in our world as Eva gets to know her grandmother and her grandmother’s tragic history and equally strange events in the world of Mesterra, woven by Magister, and ruled by a long line of kings and queens who built a a great kingdom called Ternival. Of course, there are doors between the worlds, hard to find and harder to open, but real. And Eva and her friend Frankie, the gardener’s grandson, are determined to find the way into the fantasy world that they have read about in books and somehow to solve the problems of their own world by doing so.

Once a Queen is a a lovely story with Christian worldview underpinnings, despite all of the secrets and slow revelations, and I highly recommend it to lovers of high fantasy and adventure stories. The novel is set up for a sequel, perhaps many sequels, and indeed there is a “sneak preview” of the next book in the series that is printed in the back of of this first book. The next book is to be called Once a Castle, and I look forward to its publication. (Once a Queen is complete in itself, and does not end in a cliffhanger.) Recommended for ages 12 and up.

The Piper by Eden Vale Stevens

This Dickensian Christmas tale could have come straight out of Victorian England, but instead it’s a story from an American writer. Set in Oliver Cromwell’s England of the 1600’s, this 128-page quest story tells of a young orphan boy, Ned, and his search for food and a mother and a home. As he navigates his way through the threatening city of London, avoiding the officers who want to take him to the poorhouse, and the others who want to imprison him for thieving bread, Ned searches for the Mother and Babe that the bells of the cathedral are said to herald.

The illustrations for this story by Fermin Rocker are beautiful, and they help to bring the tale down to earth and make it more accessible. I have to admit, though, that the story itself struck me as a bit odd. Ned lives with a group of street children, but he leaves them to go and find his family. We never know what happens to his street urchin “family”. Eventually, the poet Robert Herrick (1591-1674) finds him and feeds him, but Ned leaves Herrick’s warm hospitality in a tavern to continue on his quest to find either his own mother or the Holy Mother proclaimed by the bells of the cathedral. Then, he finds a family, father, mother and three children, who decide to take him in, maybe because he reminds them of the Christ Child?

The best idea I have is to try this story out as a read aloud at Christmas time and see if your children are taken by the small piper, Ned, and his search for a mother and a family. The poem in the very back of the book is this one by Herrick, which I suppose is the inspiration for the story:

Go prettie child, and beare this Flower
Unto thy little Saviour;
And tell Him, by that Bud now blown,
He is the Rose of Sharon known:
When thou has said so, stick it there
Upon his Bibb or Stomacher:
And tell Him (for good handsell too)
That thou has brought a Whistle new,
Made of a clean strait oaten reed,
To charm his cries (at times of need):
Tell Him, for Corall, thou hast none;
But if thou hadst, He sho’d have one;
But poore thou art, and knowne to be
Even as monilesse as He.
Lastly, if thou canst win a kisse
From those mellifluous lips of his;
Then never take a second on,
To spoile the first impression.

Focus on Alfred the Great

I’ve now read three books, two fiction and one nonfiction, about the the life and times of Alfred the Great, King of Wessex (southern England) in the ninth century. I may not know all there is to know about Alfred, aka Aelfred, but I certainly know enough to admire and appreciate the man and his accomplishments.

I read The Namesake by C. Walter Hodges last year and skimmed it last week to compare it with the other two books. As you can tell from my review, Alfred in this book is portrayed as a Philosopher King, and I think that a fair portrayal, although he certainly knew battle tactics and politics, too.

In Eva March Tappan’s In the Days of Alfred the Great, the reader gains a lot more background about Alfred and his life and the political situation in Britain and the stories that were told about Alfred. I think I enjoyed this narrative nonfiction book even more than the two fictional treatments of Alfred’s life. I understand why the author who wished to write about Alfred the Great might choose a novel form: a lot of what is known about the man and his times is legend and story, not really verified. However, Ms. Tappan inserts dialog and story into her nonfiction narrative, making it readable, but also believable. I thought the story made Alfred come alive , and I learned a lot about “the days of Alfred the Great.” I purchased In the Days of Alfred the Great in a reprint edition from Living Book Press, and I recommend the LBP edition of this classic history book.

The third book I read, from another small publisher, Smidgen Press, is called The Lost Dragon of Wessex. It tells the story of an orphan boy who becomes involved in the struggle between the Saxons under Alfred the Great and the invading Danes. Wulf, in the beginning of the story, is a simple forest-dwelling peasant boy who has never been away from home. When Wulf meets a stranger and follows him to the court of Alfred, the boy encounters adventure and testing that will bring him into manhood and into his calling as either a soldier or a bard, or maybe both. The journeys in this story are from forest to city, from ignorance to education, from England to Sweden and back, and from boy to man, and the focus of the story is on Wulf and what Wulf learns in the court of King Alfred, not so much on the king himself or his character and battles.

So, the three books complement one another. The Namesake shows us a fictional, but noble King Alfred as he is remembered by the old man that King Alfred mentored and taught when the man, named Alfred also, was a boy. In the Days of Alfred the Great shows where Alfred came from, the stories that were told of him as a boy and as a man, and the challenges he had to face in defeating the Danes and bringing learning and books to his own people, the Saxons of Wessex. The Lost Dragon of Wessex presents us with Alfred at the height of his power and influence and shows what that influence might have been on one boy as well as on the country as a whole.

Have you read any books about Alfred the Great? What would you recommend?

These books can be borrowed by member families from Meriadoc Homeschool Library.

Dog Journeys: Books About Dogs

Roverandom by JRR Tolkien.

One Hundred and One Dalmatians by Dodie Smith.

I have often heard people say that they avoid dog books because the dog always dies. And indeed, many beloved dog books do turn out that way: Old Yeller, Sounder, Where the Red Fern Grows, The Art of Racing in the Rain, Stone Fox, White Fang, and many more. (Sorry for the spoilers. Or maybe, you’re welcome to the warning.)

Anyway, I read a couple of books recently in which the doggy plot heads in a different direction. The dogs in these two books are endangered and face obstacles and go on a difficult and challenging journey, but the dogs do not die. Roverandum by JRR Tolkien, of hobbit fame, began as a bedtime story for Tolkien’s sons to explain and console them for the loss of a toy dog on the beach. In the story Roverandom was once a real live dog, turned into a small toy by an irascible wizard. When Roverandom is lost on the beach, another, more benevolent wizard can’t undo the first wizard’s curse, but he can send Roverandom on a journey, first to the moon where he has many adventures, and then to the depths of the ocean where Roverandom, after many more adventures, finally manages to get permission to be returned to his normal doggy state. The stories in this short 148 page book would be fun as a read aloud for elementary age children and might even engage the interest of those a little older than that.

I have also heard some people opine that the adventures of Bilbo and Frodo Baggins become somewhat repetitious and even tedious after a while. Those same readers would find Roverandom even more dull. On the other hand, those of us who enjoy imaginative flights of fancy and dueling wizards and journeys full of unusual adventures are primed for reading about a toy dog who visits the dark side of the moon as well as hobbits who visit dragons and gigantic spiders.

The other book I read was 101 Dalmatians by Dodie Smith. I saw the Disney movie long ago, and of course, I thought I knew the story. But also of course, the book is much more engaging and humorous than the movie ever could have been. It’s a Christmas story, beginning just before Christmas, in which a pair of Dalmatians, mother and father, Pongo and Missus, go on a perilous and difficult journey to rescue their kidnapped puppies–all fifteen of them. Cruella de Vil is both cruel and devilish, but she eventually gets her just deserts. There are no wizards or magic spells in this book, but it is full of fun as the dogs, who think they own their humans, the Dearlys, exhibit humor and personality and independence and courage in the face of danger.

I highly recommend both Roverandom and 101 Dalmatians as stories in which the dog does NOT die, but instead goes on a brave journey of self-discovery and also exploration of the world and its wonders.

More good dog journey stories in which the dog does not die (I don’t think):

  • The Incredible Journey by Sheila Burnford.
  • Silver Chief, Dog of the North by Jack O’Brien
  • Lassie, Come-Home by Eric Knight
  • Big Red (and sequels) by Jim Kjelgaard
  • Kavik the Wolf Dog by Walt Morey
  • Red Dog by Bill Wallace
  • Hurry Home, Candy by Meindert DeJong
  • Ginger Pye by Eleanor Estes

Any other suggestions?

The Little Grey Men Go Down the Bright Stream by B.B.

This book is the sequel to B.B.’s award-winning gnome novel, The Little Grey Men, and I am happy to say it’s just as exciting, just as nature-loving, and just as good as the first book. Sneezewort, Baldmoney, Dodder, and Cloudberry are the last gnomes living in England, maybe in the world. They live in an old hollow tree on Folly brook sharing their lives and their fortunes with the birds, especially their owl friends, and the otters and the other wild beasts, and their special friend Squirrel–the Stream People. But the Folly has been diverted into an underground drain upstream, and now all of the Stream People, including the four gnomes must decide what to do about their homes.

Can the gnomes rehabilitate their old boat, the Jeanie Deans? Will there be enough water in the Folly to float the boat if and when they do? Where can the four old gnomes go to live safely and comfortably away from the eyes and ears of men?

In the first book the gnomes went upstream to search for their lost brother, and in this sequel they are traveling downstream to find a new home. But the adventures are the same. The gnomes have to keep the boat afloat, avoid predators and enemies, and most of all, agree on a plan for a new living situation. Unfortunately, one of the four gnomes is listening to his own evil pride and jealousy while another has some wild ideas about how to proceed. And Dodder, the oldest of the gnomes, is hard put to keep the Little Men safe and all together as they go on their dangerous journey downriver.

Content considerations with SPOILER: In this sequel, as in the first book, the gnomes and their animal friends pray to and receive help from Pan, the god of the beasts. Pan, in this story, reads to me like another name for God, the Lord of all as the animals know him (kind of like Aslan in the Narnia stories). There are no incantations or pagan sacrifices, only prayer and a faith that Pan will guard and guide. Also, one of the characters in the book (SPOILER!) plans to murder the others, and the depth of evil that lurks in this character’s mind was a surprise to me. It might be disturbing to more sensitive readers. However, goodness and perseverance win out in the end, and the bad guys get their just deserts.

This book and the one before it are absolutely full of nature lore and beautiful descriptions of the English flora and fauna, and it’s all worked into an exciting story that doesn’t lag or lose appeal. It may move a little more slowly than most contemporary adventure books for children, but I found the pace to be fast enough to keep me reading for hours. The gnomes have to survive through flood and fire and enemies without and within to make it to their new home, which turns out to be both a surprise and just what they expected and wanted it to be.

If I lived in England with children, this book and The Little Grey Men would be must-reads, read-aloud. For Anglophiles like me, the same is true. For everyone else, I would still recommend that you at least try out The Little Grey Men, and if you like it at all, pick up The Little Grey Men Go Down the Bright Stream also.

Alone on a Wide Wide Sea by Michael Morpurgo

This middle grade or young adult novel, by the author of War Horse and Private Peaceful and many other excellent titles, takes place in Australia—and on the ocean. Part 1 of the book is The Story of Arthur Hobhouse, a British orphan who at the tender age of six years old is sent to Australia to live with foster parents in an orphanage in Cooper’s Station. Arthur’s story has its ups and downs, some of it quite harrowing. There’s child abuse, and outback survival, and the sad death of one of the main characters, which is why maybe the book is more for older teens and adults. But it’s a good and ultimately hopeful story, and I liked the fact that almost none of the characters in the book is all good or all bad. They are a mixture for the most part (except for the main villain with an appropriate name, Piggy Bacon).

Part 2 is The Voyage of the Kitty Four, the story of how Arthur’s daughter Allie takes the boat her father built for her and sails from Australia to England, alone. It’s an ocean adventure, reminiscent of one of my favorite true life adventure stories, The Boy Who Sailed ‘Round the World Alone (aka Dove) by Robin Graham. Allie’s story also has ups and downs, not just on waves, but also in her emotional state as she faces the dangers of sea by herself and learns to rely on her own resources.

There’s some hostility to religion and Christianity in the book since Arthur’s first experiences of “Christianity” are horrifying and anything but Christlike. There’s also a bit of superstition—because if you can’t rely on God then you might tend to look for signs and wonders, right? But these things all made the book more rich and understandable for me. People do have bad experiences with abusive, religious people, and sometimes an albatross could be a sign of God’s love and protection. Allie and Arthur both have a deep love for Colerige’s The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, so that’s a thread throughout both stories.

Good book by a very good author. I’ve enjoyed all of the books by Michael Morpurgo that I’ve read.