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Sarah Zettel

Dust Girl: The American Fairy Trilogy Book 1 Paperback – June 11, 2013

by Sarah Zettel (Author)

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Fans of Libba Bray’s The Diviners will love the blend of fantasy and twentieth-century history in this stylish series.

Callie LeRoux is choking on dust. Just as the biggest dust storm in history sweeps through the Midwest, Callie discovers her mother's long-kept secret. Callie’s not just mixed race—she's half fairy, too. Now, Callie's fairy kin have found where she's been hidden, and they're coming for her.

While dust engulfs the prairie, magic unfolds around Callie. Buildings flicker from lush to shabby, and people aren’t what they seem. The only person Callie can trust may be Jack, the charming ex-bootlegger she helped break out of jail.

From the despair of the Dust Bowl to the hot jazz of Kansas City and the dangerous beauties of the fairy realm, Sarah Zettel creates a world rooted equally in American history and in magic, where two fairy clans war over a girl marked by prophecy.

A strong example of diversity in YA, the American Fairy Trilogy introduces Callie LeRoux, a half-black teen who stars in this evocative story full of American history and fairy tales.

Supports the Common Core State Standards.

Reading age

12 - 15 years
Print length

320 pages
Language

English
Grade level

7 - 9
Lexile measure

700L
Dimensions

8.21 x 0.74 x 5.49 inches
Publisher

Bluefire
Publication date

June 11, 2013
ISBN-10

0375873813
ISBN-13

978-0375873812
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Editorial Reviews

Review

Kirkus Reviews Best of Teen's Books 2012

About the Author

SARAH ZETTEL is an award-winning science fiction and fantasy author. She has written eighteen novels and multiple short stories over the past seventeen years in addition to practicing tai chi, learning to fiddle, marrying a rocket scientist and raising a rapidly growing son. This is her first novel for teens. You can visit her at SarahZettel.com.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

1

In a Month Called April, a County Called Gray

Once upon a time, I was a girl called Callie. That, however, ended on Sunday, April 14, 1935. That was the day the worst dust storm ever recorded blew across Kansas. That was the day Mama vanished.

That was the day I found out I wasn't actually a human being.

Now, mind, I didn't know any of this when my cough woke me up that morning. Hot, still air, damp with my own breath, pressed against my face, and my tongue felt as stiff and strange as the sole of somebody else's shoe inside my mouth. Unwinding the muslin scarf, which Mama made me wear over my mouth and nose when I slept, didn't help much. It was already too hot and too dusty to breathe easy. Through the layers of sackcloth and muslin that we used for curtains, I could see the sun hovering like a rotten orange over the straight black Kansas horizon. Dust carried by the wind scratched and pattered against the windowpane, trying to get inside.

I lived with my mama in the Imperial Hotel in Slow Run, Kansas. Once, it was the finest hotel in the county, with its Moonlight Room, and the smoking lounge all decked out in red velveteen and gold fringe, and a ladies' parlor sporting an Italian marble fireplace so big I could stand up in it. Even empty, it was the biggest, grandest home imaginable.

Slow Run itself was not a place you ever heard of, unless you had to live there or stop overnight on your way somewhere else. Used to be a lot of people did stay overnight. A lot of things used to happen in Slow Run. The trains used to bring in travelers and take out carloads of wheat from the grain elevator. Mama used to make plenty of money running the hotel her parents started.

It used to rain. But now Kansas was part of the Dust Bowl, along with Oklahoma, Texas, Arkansas, and Indiana, and had been for five, maybe six years. I could just about remember the time when I looked out my window to see the green wheat rippling all around the straight lines of clapboard buildings that made up Slow Run. Now there was nothing but the blowing dirt under that rotten orange sun.

I jumped off my brass bed, ran to the bathroom, and switched on the tap. Water came out in a thin gray stream, but at least it came. It didn't always. I drank a little to rinse my mouth. It tasted like old tin. I plugged the basin drain and ran about an inch of water into the sink so I could scrub my face and hands with the little piece of store-bought soap. I wiped myself down with the washrag so the soap wouldn't get into the basin water. I got store-bought soap because of my good skin, Mama said. My skin was cream-colored and soft with not too many freckles. But that meant I had to take special care of it, and always wear a hat and gloves when I went outdoors so I wouldn't turn brown. I had good eyes too, she said, a stormy blue-gray color that people said turned steel gray when I got mad. My hair was another story. My black hair was my mother's worst enemy. "So coarse," she'd mutter while she combed the tangles out. She'd wash it in lye water and lemon juice, when we could get them. But even when we couldn't, it had to be brushed a hundred strokes every night and kept done up in tight braids so it would be nicely wavy.

"When you're older, Callie, we'll put it up in a proper chignon," Mama told me. "It'll be so pretty. Until then, we'll just have to do our best."

Doing our best meant a lot of things to Mama. It meant keeping ourselves and the hotel clean, and minding our manners even when there was no one to see or care. It meant being patient, even on the worst days when my lungs felt so heavy from breathing in the blow dust all the time that they dragged my whole body down.

My workday dress used to be yellow, but wash soap and dust had turned it a kind of pale brown. I looped my scarf over my arm and carefully carried my wash water down the short, narrow hallway. Our staff quarters at the back of the hotel had two bedrooms, the kitchen, and a little sitting room. As expected, the kitchen was empty. Mama would be somewhere in the main part of the hotel, trying to chase Gray County back outside.

I scooped one cup of water out of my basin and poured slow drips onto the tomatoes growing in soup cans on the windowsill. The rest went into the tin bucket by the door for the chickens. Before opening the door, though, I pulled on my canvas work hat and gloves and tied my scarf securely over my face.

As soon as I stepped off the porch, sweat prickled on the back of my neck and at the edges of my scarf. The stems from our dead garden rattled in the hot wind. A brown grasshopper clung to one broken twig, waiting for a chance to get into the house and between my sheets.

I tried not to hate the hoppers, even when they got into the water basin or my shoes. The only reason we still had chickens was that the birds could live on hoppers and the little green worms that crawled out of the sunbaked fence posts.

The hens fought each other over the water while I helped myself at the nesting boxes. We were lucky today. Six warm brown eggs went into my pockets. My mouth watered. Maybe we could sell a few at the store for flour, or milk, or even butter, if there was any at Van Iykes's Mercantile. The mercantile was the last store in town. There used to be a choice between Van Iykes's and Schweitzer's Emporium. But last week, Mr. and Mrs. Schweitzer locked their doors, tossed the key in the dust, climbed into their truck with their babies, Sophie and Todd, and drove away. Mama and I stood out on the porch and watched them leave.

"Cowards," I muttered, because I didn't want to think about how much I wanted to leave with them.

As if that thought was a signal, my cough started up again, in sharp little bursts. It hurt, but not as much as knowing Mama would never leave Slow Run.

The truth was, Mama was kind of crazy, and had been for years, but there was nothing anybody could do about it. Especially not me. She acted normal about most things. About everything, really, except my papa. My papa, Daniel LeRoux, had run out on Mama before I was born. He'd promised he would come back, and she'd promised she would wait for him. That promise kept us both pegged to this place while the state of Kansas dried up and blew away.

The wind swirled dust across the tops of my shoes and tugged at my skirts.

Look shhhhaaaarrrrp, said a slow, soft voice. Look -shhhhaaaarrrrp. Shhhheeee's nearrrr. . . .

"Who's that!" I spun around. But there was nobody there.

Shhhheeee's nearrrr . . . shhhheeee'ssss closssse. . . .

"Casey Wilkes, if that's you . . ." I ran around the corner of the hotel.

From here, the whole of Slow Run spread out stark and plain: the square clapboard and brick buildings marking out the straight, dust-filled streets; the four church steeples weathered a pale gray; the dusty tumbleweeds leaning lazily against the walls. Farther out, sagging barbed-wire fences ran alongside the black lines of the railroad tracks all the way to the hazy outline of the grain elevator, with the -spindly windmills standing sentry in between.

What there wasn't was any person close enough to whisper in my ear. Except I could still hear the soft, deep, strangely beautiful voice.

Closssser, closssser. Look shhhhaaaarrrrp. . . .

I turned and ran for the kitchen door.

Product details

Publisher ‏ : ‎ Bluefire; Reprint edition (June 11, 2013)
Language ‏ : ‎ English
Paperback ‏ : ‎ 320 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 0375873813
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-0375873812
Reading age ‏ : ‎ 12 - 15 years
Lexile measure ‏ : ‎ 700L
Grade level ‏ : ‎ 7 - 9
Item Weight ‏ : ‎ 9.6 ounces
Dimensions ‏ : ‎ 8.21 x 0.74 x 5.49 inches

Best Sellers Rank: #2,451,394 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #705 in Teen & Young Adult 20th Century United States Historical Fiction
- #1,036 in Teen & Young Adult Parents Fiction
- #404,331 in Children's Books

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Misty Baker

A KindleObsessed Review

Reviewed in the United States 🇺🇸 on June 30, 2014

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** A 2.8 Review as posted on KindleObsessed blog **

When I was a child my fascination with books was driven by the belief that ANYTHING could happen. My imagination wasn’t stunted by mature (AKA: adult) sensibilities. And because of this my mind was more open to the fantastical. I did not go into a book with the thought, “Oh, this is a fairy book, nothing in this is going to be real, but it should be fun to read” but instead jumped in with arms and mind wide open. Accepting of everything that was scrolled across the page. I wasn’t jaded by reality. I was awed by the lack of it. Being so much older now, I wish there were times I could go back to that place. I’m not implying I don’t get lost inside stories, but when I stated reading Sarah Zettel’s first book in her American Fairy Trilogy, “Dust Girl” I found I couldn’t turn my “sensible switch” off and it made a book I’m sure I would have found utterly enthralling at 12, down right cacophonous at 33.

"Callie LeRoux is choking on dust. Just as the biggest dust storm in history sweeps through the Midwest, Callie discovers her mother’s long-kept secret. Callie’s not just mixed race—she’s half fairy, too. Now, Callie’s fairy kin have found where she’s been hidden, and they’re coming for her.

While dust engulfs the prairie, magic unfolds around Callie. Buildings flicker from lush to shabby, and people aren’t what they seem. The only person Callie can trust may be Jack, the charming ex-bootlegger she helped break out of jail.

From the despair of the Dust Bowl to the hot jazz of Kansas City and the dangerous beauties of the fairy realm, Sarah Zettel creates a world rooted equally in American history and in magic, where two fairy clans war over a girl marked by prophecy."

It is incredibly difficult for me to flat-out dislike a book, so let me start the review portion of this rant by saying that (despite my list of dislikes that are sure to follow) I didn’t hate this novel. Instead…I thought it was a rather catastrophic beginning to a series I rather enjoyed by the end of book 3. (Yes, I’ve read the entire series.)

Giving props where props are due, the first paragraph of “Dust Girl” was almost perfect. My interest was peaked and I felt the first tingles of an awesome story start flowing through my veins. (Which is obviously what you want to happen.)

“Once upon a time, I was a girl called Callie. That, however, ended on Sunday, April 14, 1935. That was the day the worst dust storm ever recorded blew across Kansas. That was the day Mama vanished. That was the day I found out I wasn’t actually a human being.”

And for a few more pages I felt the same way. Then (insert dramatic music) a dust storm arose and EVERYTHING just fell apart.

Imagine for a second (if you will) six musicians, all playing different instruments, warming up for the performance of their lives. After a few minutes their conductor steps on stage and gives the signal to play only…when they start they are all playing different songs. You can almost hear each individual tune if you focus hard enough, but it’s tiring and the collective sound is just to chaotic. This is how the entire plot of “Dust Girl” reads. There are all of these perfect little sub plots (missing parents, grasshopper people, evil train station henchmen) but the “main story” the story of Callie and the who/what/why of her existence, AND what she is ultimately fighting for (ie: to find her parents) is covered by layers upon layers of, well…dust. It makes for a difficult read. If for no other reason than the tidal wave of fantastical information. (That’s code for: a lot to process into an image in your head.) For example:

“After that, I started seeing all kinds of things. A goblin squatted on the bell for the test-of-strength game, swatting the weight back down whenever a man hit the lever so that no one made the bell ring. The pretty lady in the bathing suit sitting on the platform above the dunk tank was a mermaid. A spott-faced cook at the lunch counter dished up steaks and fries to a pair of wolves in straw boaters and white linen suits. A couple dressed for dancing was having an argument out from of the Tilt-A-Whirl and a whole crowd of knee-high imps in ball gowns gathered around them and cheered. This was the in-between place. Fairies and humans both walked here. Except while the fairies could see the humans, the humans couldn’t see the fairies.”

There are no fewer than 8 things that need to be imagined in this 1 paragraph. If this paragraph had been on the back of a few elongated descriptions (or even some dialogue) it would have been a cinch to swallow, BUT it wasn’t. It came at 81%, behind roughly 200 pages of paragraphs exactly like it. In short, if felt rushed, as if Zettel didn’t know WHERE she wan’t to go so she went EVERYWHERE.

The biggest flaw however was not the break-neck speed, or the wealth of elements. It was the blatant lack of crucial information.

Say what?

With everything going on, the twists, turns, goblins and magical wishes…HOW the fairy world “WORKED” was never even touched upon. Now, after reading the second book (and having been artfully clued in) I’m willing to bet this was intentional. (After-all, Cassie knew nothing of herself, how could she tell us?) But for arguments sake, it made almost everything else in the novel completely irrelevant. There was no WHY so it made all the HOWS confusing.

At the end of the day however, it’s my bludgeoning childhood curiosity that won out. It’s simply impossible to have passages like this one:

“What do you see?” I asked Jack. “They’re dead, Callie. That one…that one’s been shot, and that one’s got her head on her lap, like she needs a hatbox. That one’s got the scarlet fever, and that one…” He shuddered and closed his eyes. “What do you see?” “They all look fine to me. They look…they look like they’re on a train trip. Nothing special, except…” The I realized what was special, what I’d missed before. “Except black and white and brow, they’re all sitting together. Nobody’s split them up.” They I looked at them harder. “Can you see their eyes?” I asked Jack.”

and not wonder what happens next. Which (in all honesty) is why I read the second book.

So here is where I stand at the end of the day. This novel is a hot mess. It does not ask or answer any of the correct questions. What it DOES though, is set a pretty spectacular scene for its sequel “Golden Girl.” (Which in case you were curious I read in one sitting.)

The choice is yours…

A) Suck it up for book 1 to get to #2 and #3. Or

Or…

B) Pass on the entire lot and call it a day.

I’m still not entirely certain which I would have picked if offered the insight before starting the journey.

Happy Reading my fellow Kindle-ites and remember: Where you come from is not as important as who you are.

5 people found this helpful

Helpful

Shelagh Leask

What a fantastic setting! This is a part of American that ...

Reviewed in the United States 🇺🇸 on July 2, 2014

Verified Purchase

Lovely fairytale that takes place in the dustbowl. What a fantastic setting! This is a part of American that was almost unbelievable in it's horror. It creates a terrifying, but real setting for the magical doings of these smart, brave characters. This book should be on this summer's reading lists.

Helpful

Grace T.

Of course there should be Great Depression fairies!

Reviewed in the United States 🇺🇸 on July 5, 2012

"He thought it was so exciting. He didn't get it. It was bad enough when I had to hide being half black. Now I might not even be human at all. How was I supposed to hide that?"
-From "Dust Girl"

I received a copy of "Dust Girl" by Sarah Zettel from the publishers through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review. I first heard about Sarah Zettel when I read a review of Fool's War, a sci-fi novel which featured a Muslim woman as a protagonist, and I've been meaning to read one of her books ever since.

"Dust Girl" is the first book in the American Fairies trilogy. It's set during the Great Depression, and tells the story of Callie LeRoux, a girl growing up in the Kansas Dust Bowl. Most of the neighbors have fled town because of the dust storms, but Callie's mother won't leave because she's waiting for Callie's father to return home. Everyone in town believes that Callie's father was an Irishman, but he was actually a traveling jazz musician, and, coincidentally, the prince of the fairies. When Callie's mother disappears into a dust storm, she is forced to come face to face with her heritage. With the help of her friend Jack, she begins an adventure that includes giant bugs, hobos, and an undead railroad bull who is the type of villain that one can truly despise.

I have a problem with the book's cover because Callie's mixed race is a central plot point and is one of the things that she must come to terms with as the book progresses. The girl on the cover is way too white to match Callie's description in the book, which could mean one of two things-either the publisher was sloppy and the artist didn't actually read it, or the publisher is scared that showing a more realistic picture of Callie would hurt sales. I find either of these options incredibly stupid and short-sighted, as well as insulting. C'mon, Random House. You should be better than this.

I liked that Zettel chose to make the fairies black. A lot of SF/F tends to feature a rather homogeneous cast of characters, and I always appreciate stories that don't fall into that category.

The magic system in "Dust Girl" is dependent on music. Since Callie is part fairy, any time she sings, hums, or plays the piano she is able to generate magic. Zettel uses music to make the setting even more vivid; songs ranging from Woody Guthrie to "I've Been Working on the Railroad" helps to create a strong sensory background for the story.

Sarah Zettel is able to blend together the genres of fantasy and historical fiction to create a story that brings to life what it was like to grow up in the Dust Bowl and to experience racial tensions during that time. Her story is filled with magic and music, and is another perfect example of what YA literature should be. The way that the mythology blends into 1930s culture reminds me a bit of the Charles de Lint/Terri Windling brand of mythic fiction, and I loved every minute of it.

One forewarning about the book is that the story doesn't end. I wish that there had been a bit more resolution, and I can't wait to see how the next two books in the trilogy develop!

I'd highly recommend this one to fans of both historical fiction and fantasy. The Great Depression setting paired with magic and fairies makes for a book that's unlike anything else out there.

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Dust Girl: The American Fairy Trilogy Book 1 Paperback – June 11, 2013

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