From Publishers Weekly
Newbery Medalist MacLachlan's minimal, deeply resonant text centers on a girl whose parents have sold their farm on the prairie-clearly not by choice. As she anticipates all that she will miss and devises plots to avoid moving ("Or maybe/ I'll live in a tree./ The tall cottonwood that was small/ when Papa was small..."), the child pieces together the sights, sounds and tactile sensations of the only life she has ever known. Her parents' attempts to soften the blow don't appease the determined narrator: "Mama says there's an ocean/ In the new place./ And Papa says there are trees./ I don't need trees,/ Only the one./ I don't need an ocean/ I've got an ocean of grass." But there are words that do offer solace: "What you know first stays with you, my Papa says./ But just in case I forget/ I will take a twig of the cottonwood tree/ I will take a little bag of prairie dirt/ I cannot take the sky." Echoing the mournful tone of MacLachlan's poem are Moser's etchings, which place the story in the Depression. Finely detailed, each tinted subtly with a different color, the illustrations project austerity; they may be a bit severe for the average picture-book audience. The especially handsome book design weights every word with significance. Despite its somber tone, the first collaboration between this deservedly acclaimed duo touches the heart. All ages.
Copyright 1995 Reed Business Information, Inc.
--This text refers to the
Hardcover
edition.
From School Library Journal
Kindergarten-Grade 3?A child comes to terms with the fact that she and her family are leaving the prairie. She recalls the people and places she will miss?the blacksmith, the ocean of grass, the drifting snow in winter. As she talks herself into acceptance, her Mama helps her let go, commenting that the baby will need someone to tell him where he came from. So the girl gathers mementos?a bag of earth and a piece of cottonwood tree. There's no happy ending, no real anticipation of the new place?just a sense that the strength of family will carry them through. A novel hides in these few pages. As with Sarah, Plain and Tall (HarperCollins, 1985), the subtext vibrates. So much is told in each perfectly chosen phrase. The story is deep and specific, but the pain and denial of a child leaving a known and loved place is all too universal. Moser's finely wrought engravings, enhanced by moody tints, record the departure. The child is caught defiantly off center at first and later in the midst of the packing up. The people and places to be missed are given a solid reality. There is nothing sentimental in either text or illustration. These are strong people dealing with necessity. While this may not be the sort of light, charming book that has immediate group appeal, someone will find it. And for that someone, it will be just right.?Sally Margolis, formerly at Deerfield Public Library, IL
Copyright 1995 Reed Business Information, Inc.
--This text refers to the
Hardcover
edition.
