Please stop reading this blog right now and go read Half World by Hiromi Goto. (I won’t be offended.) While this blog merely describes a page turning dark YA fantasy with exceptional writing that engages the reader’s senses, Half World is that very thing.
Trust me. You won’t be sorry.
*Unless otherwise stated, all quotes in the Half World posts of this blog are taken from:
Goto, H., & Tamaki, J. (2006). Half World. Toronto, ON: Puffin Canada.
Hiromi Goto has her own website, which makes it easier to find out about her and her work. From it we learn that she writes poetry, short and long fiction. She writes for children, teens and adults. It makes sense to me that Goto is a published poet, because one of the the standouts of Half World is the language. Her writing asks the reader to utilize all of their senses. She has written a sequel to Half World called Darkest Light. It takes place sixteen years after the events of the first novel.
Half World won two awards, the 2010 Sunburst Award (YA Category) and the Carl Brandon Parallax Award, and was nominated for four more, including the IMPAC Dublin. I follow this award because it has an incredibly long and varied longlist. Nominations are made by public libraries. Goto’s website recommends Half World for fans of Pan’s Labyrinth and The Spiderwick Chronicles. I think she nailed it.
In an interview with Indiebound, Goto addresses how having “children of color” motivates her to write the protagonists she writes. She says, “Children of color were seldom depicted as having adventures, solving mysteries, saving lives, falling in love, etc. After several years of frustration I thought, Okay! It’s not out there! You’re a writer. You do it! Our children want and need their adventures, too! So this item has been added to my writerly agenda” (as cited in Grant, 2008).
Goto’s blog is sporadically updated. The most recent post links to an interview she did for Nineteenquestions. Nineteenquestions is a project by the Creative Writing Program at UBC. It explores “how writers became who they are” (Nineteenquestions, 2014). Of writing, Goto says, “You can touch someone’s life, you can inspire, educate, suggest, seduce. You can break apart silence, smash oppression, set fire to old regimes, you can imagine a better world…. ” (as cited in Whishaw, 2014). Goto is more active on Twitter. She tweets about the environment, politics, writing, and cooking. Her handle is @hinganai.
Goto currently lives in BC where she’s working on an adult novel and a graphic novel. I’m not surprised to hear she lives here; the World of the Flesh parts of Half World are clearly set in Vancouver (though the setting is unnamed, streets and stores are not).
My copy of Half World came from the North Vancouver City Library. It is a hardcover edition with 233 pages (including Acknowledgements). This is pretty close to an ideal length for a book, in my opinion. This particular copy bears a ‘Staff Pick’ sticker. We don’t have many YA fiction fans on staff, and I want to know who read it and talk to them about it; that’s a project for after my Leave of Absence ends (next week, sniff sniff).
The front cover was illustrated by Jillian Tamaki, who also illustrated This One Summer. I find her illustrations much more appealing when done in warm colours as they are here. I love the Icarus imagery she has drawn with the two girls clearly flying close to the sun. The crows beneath the girls contrast beautifully with the warm red orange sky, as does the olive Paddington bear coat worn by the girl on the left. She appears to have a lime green rat on her shoulder; I want to know more about that.
The title of the book appears in gold in a font that resembles calligraphy. Both the author’s name and the characters look Japanese.
Neil Gaiman blurbed it, calling it “Wonderfully odd, and quite unforgettable.” I trust Neil. (Who doesn’t?) I am not familiar with the three authors who wrote blurbs for the back cover: Nalo Hopkinson, Ellen Klages, and Charles de Lint. Actually, I’ve heard of Charles de Lint, and often thought his books look good, but have never read one. Should I?
When I open the book, there are blank beige endpages. I’m faintly disappointed that there isn’t a map. There are four books listed on the ‘Also by’ page; I’ve never heard of any of them.
Goto has dedicated the book to her mother with a quote about “soft power” and the word “subarashii.” I wonder if this dedication is going to play into the themes of the novel, and the strengths the protagonist has.
The prologue is written in a difference font than the rest of the novel. I don’t know the name of the font, but it has the feel of cursive writing. There are bits of text in the main chapters that use this font as well.
The chapters each have the same symbol under the chapter title. The symbol is a dark square with notched corners. Inside the square is a circle with a three-headed yin yang symbol: one is white, one is grey, one is black.
The first thing I notice is the cursive-inspired font. I wonder why it has been used until page three when it’s revealed that the Prologue is meant to be a fragment of a greater work, The Book of the Realms. Right away, I’m in love with Goto’s use of language. Here is her explanation of human grand-scale suffering, “Without connections to Life, Spirit too shall pass away” (p. 2). Her writing is dramatic and wise. Clearly we readers are in for an epic journey.
Introduction
Again I’m struck by Goto’s use of langauge. There’s a filmic quality to the writing; it would translate well on-screen. The writing is descriptive, it is stylized, and it engages all my senses.
As soon as the action begins, I’m hooked. Utterly hooked. There’s a pregnant couple trying to run away from a gluey man with a creepy elongated tongue. Ewwww (and more, please).
There’s also dark comedy, which I love: The gluey man has caught the couple, who are pleading for their life. Here is his response to their pleas, “‘Maaaaaybeeee,’ he crooned in a childish voice, slumping his weight onto one hip. ‘Maybe not!’ he swung out his opposite hip. He began tossing his hips in time with his response. ‘Maybe, maybe not!” (p. 8).
Plus, it’s gory. How is this for a threat? “I will flay your lover every day and force him to eat his skin, for all eternity” (p. 9).
Chapter One
By the time we meet the protagonist, Melanie Tamaki, I’m already in love with Half World. I’m three levels in: I want to know more about the mythology, more about the pregnant couple and more about the gluey man. Then Vancouver (where I live) enters the scene.
Poor Melanie, she is hated to the point that an adult being nice to her means their “store would be vandalized on Halloween” (p. 13). She has a detached humour that I appreciate; it’s one of the things I like best about Jace from The Mortal Instruments too. Also, she loves Macleod’s books. Macleod’s books is awesome. It reminds me of the bookstore in the beginning of the movie The Neverending Story.
And Melanie loves crows. I love crows. (If you love crows, I recommend Clem Martini’s The Mob). Before this blog gets too fangirl for you, let me say there are small things I don’t like about Half World. At times, the writing uses clichés (for example, “The past three years her mother had turned to drink….”) (p. 17). The bullies are known as the Valkyries, which I know makes reference to mythology, but further reading reveals the reference is not used to its full advantage.
Chapter Two
Melanie’s mother is missing. The scene reminds me of the scene in City of Bones when Clary’s mother is abducted. Melanie calls her ‘mum’, which makes her sound British. Though the story is told in third person narration, the reader still has access to Melanie’s thoughts (“Shut up, she thought. Shut up and look!”) (p. 22), and bodily functions (“Hot tears swelled in the back of Melanie’s throat”) (p. 23). We are always in the moment with Melanie; her thoughts and feelings are rendered with immediacy.
Chapter Three
Mr. Glueskin (what a delightfully grotesque name!) has kidnapped Melanie’s mother. He phones and demands Melanie join him in Half World. She thinks, “he was bad” (p. 30). The simplicity of this sentiment contrasts with other more descriptive sentences and makes it seem more true. Dun dun dun… Melanie realizes she’s been using a disconnected phone.
Though she may not have peers, she does have an ally in Ms. Wei. Before leaving for Half World, which can be accessed via the Cassiar connector, she tells Ms Wei where she’s headed. Ms Wei is a bit of an odd duck too. She doesn’t use first or second person pronouns when speaking, which I find almost racist. Melanie, however finds it makes things “slightly more manageable” (p. 35). Ms Wei is a former archivist, Macleod’s customer, and owner of an old copy of theTibetan Book of the Dead. Tucked inside the book is a prophecy that Melanie reads, “So ends what should not be / when a child is born / impossibly / in the nether Realm of Half World” (p. 38). But when Ms Wei reads the prophecy, she sees something different.
Chapters Four and Five
Quirky and quirkier. Ms Wei accompanies Melanie to the entrance to Half World. She gives Melanie a rat amulet that I imagine is something more (I remember there is a lime green rat on the book cover). Before entering Half World, Melanie is approached by a raccoon who gives her a Magic 8 Ball (p. 51). Predictable 😉
The British feel of the language continues when Jade Rat comes to life and urges, “Haste!” (p. 53). Goto keeps balancing on the fine line between horror and humour when Melanie lists the school principal among horrors (p. 55).
Chapter Six
Melanie enters Half World and finds crows! They make this crow bridge for Melanie to cross between the worlds that glimmers with iridescence and sways precariously in my mind. For a moment, it looks like Melanie won’t make it across and Jade Rat abandons her. Melanie resents this. I am glad she does; it feels real.
This chapter is also when I realized the narrator is omniscient. “And for the first time in millennia, they flew back to aid someone who was meant to fall” (p. 62).
Chapter Seven and Eight
Melanie holds onto her grudge against the Jade Rat and gives into self pity. For a fantasy heroine Melanie is remarkably flawed. She’s not got the plucky get-it-done attitude I’d expected. I find her refreshing. There are also several references to how weary Melanie is and how she out of shape.
I’m a bit baffled by the questions Melanie asks the Magic 8 Ball and the answers she receives. I think I’m supposed to be, but the Magic 8 Ball still hasn’t paid off in the way I’d hoped when it first appeared. Then it begins crumbling, and becomes precious to Melanie (p. 79). I can give it one more chance.
I haven’t commented much on the villains in Half World. They are a good mix of menacing and grotesque. At times I’m reminded of the way I felt when watching The Shining and seeing the furry scene. Not that there’s any sexual scenes in Half World but I get the same sense of surreal dread from both.
Chapter Nine
The Shining feeling continues as we read a description of the hotel Melanie is in. Much like the Overlook hotel, I have no clear sense of what size or shape the hotel is. This increases my feelings of unease.
Melanie’s self-esteem is beginning to improve. She’s starting to trust in her own ideas. I find it surprising that Melanie doesn’t seem to have any sort of guide in Half World. “She [has] to explore, to figure out the rules of Half World” by herself (p. 90). In most books like this, there is a character who guides the protagonist filling in historical and cultural detail (like Jace in The Mortal Instruments). The sense that she’s disadvantaged because she doesn’t have a guide is sharpened when Melanie see the neon sign with missing letters (p.91). While it’s clear to the reader that the missing letters should spell Agamemnon, Melanie hasn’t been taught this yet.
In Chapter Nine, Melanie finally meets her father. He’s a drunk who doesn’t recognize her. He slurs, “You know, you knda look like a girlfriend I used to have a long time ago” (p. 94). How disappointing for Melanie. (As for me, I want to know what the intervening years between the Introduction and now were like for this poor man.)
Chapter Ten
Melanie is caught. In this chapter we get more of Gao Zhen Xi and Jade Rat’s history. It strongly reminds me of Voldemort’s horcruxes in Harry Potter. We also get more back story on Half World and the symbol found at the beginning of each chapter. Melanie again yearns for guidance (p. 108). The Magic 8 Ball just isn’t cutting it.
Chapter Eleven and Twelve
Melanie comes up with the idea of disguising herself as a cleaning lady to get access to Mr. Glueskin. The plan is pretty good for a heroine who, as we’re continually reminded, isn’t very clever. Then Melanie messes up her name. She introduces herself to Mr. Glueskin as Mavis when her nametag reads Gladys (p. 120). At first I thought (hoped) it was a continuity error or a typo. It wasn’t. Melanie finds her mother, Fumiko, with Mr. Glueskin. Mom rats Melanie out; she doesn’t appear to recognize her child. When Mr. Glueskin realizes Gladys/Mavis is actually Melanie he says “gently, ‘I’m so glad you could join us'” (p. 134). There’s something purely menacing in this false kindness. It’s beautiful. I love Goto’s writing. Love it.
Chapter Thirteen and Fourteen
Half World is in part a coming-of-age story. Now Melanie is coming to understand her own powers. Gao explains to Melanie why she must be the one to unite the realms and Melanie realizes she’s respected (p. 142-3). From that realization comes this knowledge: “No magic words, no cure-all potion, no ultimate key that unlocked the prize door, no sorcerer’s wand or special latent superpower inside her waiting to burst free […] Everything hinged on choices. Her choices” (p. 144).
When Melanie fights Mr. Glueskin, she does so with compassion (p. 149). Perhaps because Melanie is growing up and becoming a heroine, the prophecy has changed (p. 155). It is also revealed that Mr. Glueskin is illiterate (p. 156). I like this little detail; it gives an evil character depth.
Chapter Fifteen and Sixteen
Sometimes the simplest passages Goto writes are striking in their beauty. I love this line “Black, blackness, crows” (p. 163). Another good one is when Mr. Glueskin reclaims Fumiko, “Melanie located calm” (p. 167).
Melanie rather cleverly defeats Mr. Glueskin. “It was so horrible. It looked almost comic” (p. 174). Goto is exceptionally aware of the fine line between grotesquery and comedy.
Chapter Seventeen, Eighteen, and Nineteen
With Mr. Glueskin defeated, Melanie’s parents reunite. It’s touching and I cry. I defy you to read the words, “Shinobu clasped Fumiko’s hand so that wherever the darkness took them they would be together” (p. 183), and not do the same. Leaving Half World, Melanie pleas with the gatekeeper to be an active participant rather than a silent witness (p. 189). I think this passage has larger philosophical implications for the reader. It makes me wonder how and when I should have taken action but instead have stayed silent. If I were to teach Half World, this is definitely one of the passages I’d want to work with with a class.
Chapter Twenty, Twenty-One and Epilogue
I know there is a sequel to Half World, but to me Melanie’s story feels complete. While more detail could have been added about where life takes Ms Wei, Melanie, and Baby G next, I’m satisfied with the ending. Half World is a gorgeous novel; reading it I feel like I’ve discovered a world that nobody else knows about.
I have a special fondness for teen fiction, especially dark teen fantasy. One of my favourite reads from childhood is Michael Ende’s The Neverending Story about an outcast boy who enters a different realm, Fantasia, and changes history. Half World reminds me of Ende’s novel in terms of the broad storyline. I’m also a fan of Neil Gaiman’s Coraline (one of the most frightening works I’ve read to date) and China Mieville’s Un Lun Dun. There are shades of both these works in Half World.
While I love historical fiction, and have read a lot of it recently, I’ve been craving a more imagination-satisfying read. Sitting on my bedside table (taunting me) are Cassandra Clare and Holly Black’s The Iron Trial, and the final book in Cassandra Clare’s The Mortal Instruments series, a series I love. When I love a book it means that the book has bypassed my brain and entered my heart; it doesn’t mean the book is without flaws, just like the people I love are, like myself, flawed. Half World is a book I love.
Responses Caused by the Reader’s Personal History
Paradise, right?
The setting of the book was exactly right for me. I like my fantasy to have an urban homebase, like New York city in The Mortal Instruments series or London in Un Lun Dun. That Goto used Vancouver as Melanie’s homebase made the story come alive for me more quickly. As soon as she mentioned Macleod’s bookstore (an excellent place to lose yourself should you ever come to Vancouver) I was hooked.
In the beginning of the novel, Melanie reminded me strongly of Bastian in The Neverending Story in a few ways: she is bullied, she hides in bookstores and she doesn’t believe in herself. I didn’t mind that she didn’t remind me of a real character; she felt real, just like Bastian does.
Responses Caused by the Reader’s History as a Reader
The book very much followed by expectations of what a dark fantasy novel should be. It began with both a Prologue and an Introduction; giving readers a fragment of both the three realms’ history, and the protagonist’s family history. By the time Melanie is introduced to readers, we are already three levels into the story; we are immersed. Over the course of the story, Melanie learns that despite being ordinary, she has the capacity to be heroic. She loses people of value to her, and carries on despite her loss.
Responses Caused by the Text Alone
Half World very much follows a traditional narrative arc: there is exposition in the prologue, introduction and early chapters (rising action), a climax, falling action, and a resolution. The resolution is somewhat open-ended which I find satisfying. If Half World had wrapped up too neatly, I would have liked it less.
One unusual thing about the novel is the protagonist. Melanie is flawed and ordinary. Even when she acts heroically, it is the choices she makes rather than the essence of who she is that seems to matter. You don’t see a lot of books like this. In some ways she reminds me of Twilight‘s Bella (before she became a super-vampire, obviously).
My favourite part of Half World is the writing. The book is written in a very descriptive, stylized way For example, “They ran, breath choking their throats, pain stabbing their sides, emptiness yawning all around them. With each desperate step they took, the railless bridge undulated and wobbled, swayed and fluttered.” (p. 5). In moments of heightened tension, sentence fragments are skillfully employed (“The terrifying plummet one misplaced foot away” (p. 6)).
Goto’s writing engages multiple senses, most noticeably smell and sound. Mr. Glueskin, we are often told stinks of vinegar (p. 7). He makes a range of easy to imagine sounds from the “squelching slurp” he uses to retract his tongue to the “wet giggling” of his laugh (p. 84).
At times, there is a British flavour to the writing. For example, “Her shrieks took ever so long to fade” sound British (p. 8). I’m not sure what effect Goto was trying to achieve with this, but I liked it.
There are a number of moments of black comedy in Half World. Sometimes they are explicitly acknowledged. For example, “His head, flattened, looked so comical Melanie fought off the urge to giggle hysterically” (p. 111). It’s like Goto is trying to reassure the reader that black humour is okay.
Illustrations
Jillian Tamaki did the illustrations for Half World. They are black and white. Some are full page and others are smaller. The illustrations I liked best are the unsettling and often cryptic answers Melanie gets from her Magic 8 Ball. I thought it was clever that they (and the fortune cookie) gave their message via illustration rather than text. Otherwise, I don’t think Tamaki’s illustrations enhanced the novel in any significant way.
What Does This Book ask of Readers?
In the background of Half World are a number of references to mythology and traditions. Number four is unlucky, the bullies are valkyries, Agamemnon is mentioned. While knowing more about these references isn’t necessary to enjoy the story, Half World does give more to those in the know.
Goto does a similar thing with art. Kahlo, Bosch and Escher are all referenced. Understanding what images Goto has mentioned gives insight into what Half World looks like. It adds atmosphere to the story.
Half World was reviewed in a variety of sources. There were reviews in The Quill and Quire, The Horn Book, School Library Journal and more. I’ve chosen to focus on the reviews from Kirkus and Fantasy and Science Fiction. The latter was written by Charles de Lint. Both reviews are glowing.
The Kirkus review gives more of a summary of Half World than a critical examination. For example it notes Melanie is “fat, poor and intellectually slow” without noting how Melanie compares to other fantasy heroines (Kirkus, 2010). It adeptly describes Half World as, “a magical limbo populated by gruesome semi-humans and characterized by despair” (Kirkus, 2010). In the reviewer’s opinion the illustrations are “evocative” and “mirror the tale’s thematic concerns” (Kirkus, 2010), but I didn’t feel that the illustrations added much to the story. I thought it was a clever idea that the cryptic advice of the Magic 8 Ball was told via illustration rather than pure text, but other than that I would not have missed them had they not been there. I certainly didn’t make anything of them in terms of “contrasts between light and darkness” (Kirkus, 2010).
Kirkus recommends the novel for ages 11-13. While I agree that eleven is the youngest I’d be likely to recommend this novel for, I would have said 11+ rather than 11-13. I believe Half World has crossover appeal for adults as well as older teens.
The column de Lint is writing is called “Books to Look For” so going into the review, I knew it would be largely positive. In it he praises Goto for being “innovative” and “imaginative” (de Lint, 2009). We share a similar view of Half World. I too was surprised to hear that Goto has written four earlier novels, and would have picked up any of them based on their titles alone. Hopeful Monsters particularly appeals.
Both De Lint and I were reminded of Mieville’s novel Un Lun Dun. He said the novel also called to mind a novel called Mind the Gap, which I had never heard of, but now want to read quite badly. (Why is there never enough time to read everything I want to read?)
Like de Lint, I loved Melanie. We both loved her for being ordinary and for rising to tasks that extraordinary circumstances demanded of her. I especially like his points that she “makes the right hard choices when it would be so much easier to let go and give up” (de Lint, 2009), and that the world is more believable because we are so grounded in her point-of-view.
De Lint wisely doesn’t give an age recommendation for Half World, instead saying that it “deserves as wide an audience as possible” (de Lint, 2009). I heartily agree.
“A sound, a very quiet sound, woke Samira,” one summer night in 1918, Iran.
With this small event begins a monumental change in 9-year old Samira’s life. She and her family must leave their home in Ayna, Iran to flee the Turkish army. Samira will walk unthinkable distances to safety. But will she ever find home again?
*Unless otherwise indicated, all quotes with Home is Beyond the Mountains in the post title come from Home is Beyond the Mountains by Celia Barker Lottridge.
Before reading this book, I primarily knew Lottridge as the author of One Watermelon Seed a colourful counting book that I sometimes use in preschool library programs. My six-year old enjoys reading this book as well. Of that experience, Lottridge says, “About 1983, a publisher who had done an alphabet book asked me to write a counting book, and so I wrote One Watermelon Seed. They liked it but said it had to have coloured illustrations, something that house wasn’t then doing. Later I happened to be at Oxford University Press and showed it to Bill Toye who immediately said he’d publish it. That experience led me to the conclusion that it was time to start writing the books that I wanted to write” (as cited in Jenkinson, 1997).
I also knew that she was co-author of Telling Tales: Storytelling in the Family with our own professor Gail de Vos, and Merle Harris. Clearly family stories are very important to Lottridge; she draws on her own family’s history for Home is Beyond the Mountains. She has also authored an adaptation of a Russian fairytale, Music for the Tsar of the Sea. I was not aware that she had adapting the Hungarian folktale The Little Rooster and the Diamond Button, and have added it to my TBR.
In researching for this project I learned that Lottridge has been a librarian and is a professional storyteller. She is an American-born Canadian, and “helped to form the Storyteller’s School of Toronto to promote storytelling in the city’s schools” (The Gale Group, Inc., 2006). Lottridge began writing seriously in the 1980s “as a way to supplement her income as a single parent, and in the 1980s she began to take writing seriously” (The Gale Group, Inc., 2006).
Her other novels for children include:
The Curlew series: Ticket to Curlew (2001) and Wings to Fly (1997)
Ticket to Canada (1992)
The Wind Wagon (1995)
Berta: A Remarkable Dog (2002)
The Listening Tree (2011)
I haven’t read any of her other novels. With the exception of Berta, they are all historical fiction. Wings to Fly takes place in 1918, the same year that Home is Beyond the Mountains begins. The female protagonist in Wings to Fly is older than Samira and from a different cultural background. It might be interesting to read this novels together and compare them in more detail.
The Setting
According to the blurb, Home is Beyond the Mountains is about “the chaotic time at the end of World War I, when hundreds of thousands of Assyrians and Armenians were forced to flee from the Turkish Army.” I know very very little about Iranian history, and even less about the Assyrian population in Iran. (To be brutally honest, I wasn’t entirely sure Turkey and Iran shared a border and had never heard of the region of Urmieh, Iran. I had no idea that the Assyrian genocide existed. My closest point of reference would have been Atom Egoyan’s film Ararat about the Armenian genocide.) For this reason, I found “The History Behind the Story” pages of the book very helpful. It would have been more useful to me, if this information had formed an introduction to the novel rather than an afterward.
How the Book Came to be Written
Lottridge includes two afterwards to the book, “Where the Story Came From” and “The History Behind the Story” (p. 222-3). In the first, she tells the story of her mother’s older sister, Susan, who was “the director of an orphanage for Assyrian refugee children in Hamadan” (p. 222). Her maternal aunt is Susan Shedd, the orphanage director in Home is Beyond the Mountains. Lottridge used family letters, stories her mother told her about her aunt, and newspaper articles as sources for her book. While researching the book Lottridge (2006) sent out a request for information via Gorgias Press. She wrote,
“I have found nothing about the experiences of the orphans who survived the war, only to be left in refugee camps for several years before they could find a home of any kind. I would especially like to find out more about the orphanages at Hamadan and Kermanshah run by the Near East Relief. Any personal accounts of children’s experiences in the orphanages, on the trek from Hamadan to Tabriz or after returning to Urmia would also be of tremendous help. If anybody could help me at all with my search I would be very grateful” (as cited in e-Gorgias, 2006).
My copy of this title came from the library. We acquired it in 2010 and it looks as though it has never been read. This is surprising because we serve a largely Iranian community, and I’d assume that readers would be interested in historical fiction that directly speaks to their heritage.
This book is a small size trade paperback. The background of the cover is a Persian carpet with black and white photos lying on it. I don’t get a lot of contextual information from the photos other than the time period is obviously pre-WWII (a the most prominent photograph shows people who have been travelling by cart).
The cover declares this book is a novel based on a true story. The coloured box that the title is in complements the colour of the carpet. The author’s name is in a coloured font that matches the color of the carpet’s border. All elements in the cover tie together well.
On the back of the book it is mentioned twice more that this book is based on a true event. I think the publisher is really trying to drive this point home to ask readers to imagine themselves in the position of the children in the novel.
Home is Beyond the Mountains is dedicated to Louise Shedd Barker (Lottridge’s mother) and Marion Seary. Seary worked with Lottridge at The Children’s Bookstore in Toronto (International Board on Books for Young People, 1991). In one of the afterwards the book, “Where the Story Came From” Lottridge explains the crucial role her mother played in the novel’s inception. The second afterward, “The History Behind the Story” gives much-needed historical background to Samira’s story and would have made an ideal introduction. Instead, a map detailing the routes of Samira’s journeys functions as the novel’s sole introduction.
The book began, “A sound, a very quiet sound, woke Samira” (Lottridge, 2010, p. 10). I was instantly curious: what caused the noise that woke Samira up and what will happen next. The writing is quietly beautiful and, as much as I’m engaged with the story, I’m also reading to find the next line that will stop my breath with its truth and simplicity. I don’t have to wait long until I read this, “At every river she looked for Papa and Benyamin, but they were never there” (p. 34).
PART TWO: The Orphan Section, September 1918
In Part Two, we meet Anna (p.41) who is obviously going to help form Samira’s new family. As I read, I’m waiting for Anna to jump off the page and become real to me, but she never does. Anna asks Samira to help her look after younger children by saying, “You’re quiet. You don’t fuss. Shall we stick together?” (p. 42). There is a pragmatism to Anna, but I never really think of her as being a real person.
We also learn more about Samira’s family and culture; we learn that, though he’s all the family she has left, they didn’t have much of a relationship in Ayna. “At home with the whole family together in their little house there were days and days when she and Benyamin hardly talked to each other. They lived separate lives” (p. 43). While Samira and Benyamin are lucky to have each other, this statement makes me think what poor consolation they must be for each other, and how much they must be missing the family members who were integral parts of their lives.
PART THREE: Not Just Orphans, September 1922
Early in Part Three, Samira is again awoken in the night, mirroring the opening of the book (p. 87). This time Elias is sick. Miss Shedd (Lottridge’s aunt) arrives while Elias is recovering. Though she’s not Assyrian, she’s from Urmieh. I wonder about the etymology of her name; it’s unusual. Wondering makes me stop reading and breaks the spell the book has had me under. There’s something that sets Miss Shedd apart from the other characters and makes her seem less well-rounded as a character. I wonder if Lottridge idealizes her aunt and doesn’t want to explore her character too deeply. Maybe my impression will change as the novel progresses.
On page 111, new children arrive at the orphanage from Baqubah camp and the orphans are invited to come up with new rules for the orphanage. Samira’s rule promotes inclusivity and demonstrates her empathy (p. 114). Samira again demonstrates a strong sense of empathy when she sees Malik, the runner, and intuits that he feels trapped in the orphanage. From the moment he first appears, Malik is my favourite character. I too feel more comfortable on the edges of groups, yet still want to be a part of them.
When Shula and Avram fall out there is no punishment for them (p. 126). I know Miss Shedd is trying to promote feelings of leadership and responsibility in the orphans, but this seems like a case of imposing modern values on historical fiction to me. I think in 1918, the children would have been punished. Again the spell of the novel is briefly broken.
It is quickly recast when planning for the 30-day walk to Tabriz begins. Shedd introduces the concept of the caravan family: a family that travels and camps together on the journey. “Each family [has] at least twelve children of difference ages and, of course, girls and boys” (p. 132). With the introduction of these families, Samira remarks, Miss Shedd “reminds me of my Aunt” (p. 132). This made me smile because Miss Shedd is Lottridge’s aunt. It also made me wonder how much of her own personality Lottridge imbued Samira with.
Miss Shedd announces Samira’s family will include: Anna, Benyamin, Ashur, Maryam, Avram, Shula, Malik, Elias, Monna, Sheran, and David. The family gets to choose their own ‘family name’ and becomes the “Rooftop Family” because they all slept and played on the roofs back home. I was glad that Anna questioned the new families saying, “There are people in this family I barely know. What kind of family is that?” because I had a difficult time believing that children would unquestioningly accept a new family after what they had been through (p. 134). Anna’s specific question also reminded me that Samira and Benyamin didn’t have a close relationship before leaving Ayna and made me think that Miss Shedd might be successful with her family plan.
PART FOUR: A Long Way to Go, October 1923
I found this parts of this section of the book flat and sort of boring. It was predictable (to an adult reader) that bureaucracy would require someone to stay behind at the orphanage while others started the journey to Tabriz, and that they delay would not be permanent (p. 154).
The best scenes in this part were the ones with Malik. I particularly liked the scene where Samira overhears Malik comforting the mules. She tells Anna, “I think he said more to a mule in just a few minutes than I’ve heard him say to people in a year” (p. 160). I found this scene very moving because my eldest child is, like Malik, more comfortable around animals than people. Anna doesn’t pay attention to what Samira is telling her; she still hasn’t grown on me. There’s another scene a few pages later where Malik tells Samira about the sheep in his village; he is starting to open up to his new family.
There are two emotionally moving scenes in this part. One is when Shula sits down on the road and cries (I cried with her) because her mother is dead and the journey home is too arduous. The third person narration of this scene makes Shula’s situation more stark, “Samira didn’t know what to say. What Shula had said was true. Her mother had died and the journey was hard” (p. 170). Miss Shedd has a very no-nonsense approach to Shula’s outburst and she is soon on the road again. Soon after, Samira and Miss Shedd bond over their mutual losses: Samira lost her mother on this road, and Miss Shedd lost her father. Miss Shedd seems much more sympathetic when talking to Samira about her loss. I wonder if it’s because Samira is older, or if it’s because Samira’s grief wells up at a rest stop and not while she’s supposed to be walking. Either way, I haven’t warmed up to Miss Shedd either; though her return to Iran makes more sense now somehow.
The children also experience snow in this part, and we get more background on Anna’s story (p. 188, 194).
PART FIVE: Wait for the Morning Star, November 1923
This part wraps up the story: Benyamin decides not to return to Ayna. His decision is consistent with the distant emotional relationship he and Samira have had throughout the book. Malik finds out his grandmother is still alive; Anna finds out her village has been decimated. Samira discovers that Aunt Sahra and Ester have lived. She and Anna move in with them. Home is Beyond the Mountains ends with Samira on the roof: she spots Malik approaching. He has come to live with them in Ayna, and will help rebuild Samira’s home.
Please stop reading this blog right now and go read Half World by Hiromi Goto. (I won’t be offended.) While this blog merely describes a page turning dark YA fantasy with exceptional writing that engages the reader’s senses, Half World is that very thing.
lis516lesku 
