From School Library Journal
Grade 6-9-In fantasy novel by Clare B. Dunkle (Groundwood, 2003), narrated by Jenny Sterlin, the orphaned Kate and her sister Emily are sent to live with distant relatives on an estate known as Hallow Hill. Soon enough, Kate is pursued by a goblin king, Marak, who must find a bride outside the goblin race. Kate eventually offers to marry Marak in the hope of rescuing Emily, who has been kidnapped. Kate dreads the thought of living underground forever in the goblin kingdom, but she fulfills her promise and takes on the role of King's Wife. Just as Kate is beginning to settle into goblin life and coming to appreciate the intelligence, skill, and good humor of her husband, the goblins are attacked from afar by a great sorcerer, who is stealing their spirits and leaving their bodies paralyzed. Kate must leave the goblin realm and travel to Liverpool to face the sorcerer in order to save Marak and all the goblin people. The pacing of the story is a bit uneven, but British actress Jenny Sterlin's voice makes it easy to follow and to identify characters. She does an especially good job with some of the minor characters, including the goblin/cat Seylin and Charm, the snake-like creature whose job it is to protect the King's Wife. This is a fine recording of a solid adventure fantasy-Sarah Flowers, Santa Clara County Library, San Jose, CA
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. --This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
From Booklist
Gr. 5-8. When orphaned Victorian teenager Kate and her younger sister move to an estate they have inherited, Kate feels sure she's being watched. She's not wrong. The suave, hideous Goblin King, Marak, plans to kidnap and wed her (goblin women are mostly infertile, so "crossing out" to other species ensures the survival of the race). All seems poised for clever Kate to outmaneuver the villain, but the seemingly conventional setup gives way to something far more intriguing: the dreaded marriage actually happens. Readers are then plunged into the goblins' eerily lovely subterranean world, where Marak, despite his pitiless disregard for certain human sensibilities, surprises Kate with his wise leadership and husbandly concern. Each of the novel's three parts fairly brims with plot, at times things seem a bit rushed, and Kate's concluding adventure presupposes a devotion to her husband that hasn't yet been convincingly established. But this is a fresh, powerful twist on the Beauty-and-the-Beast theme, and the impact of Dunkle's evocative storytelling lingers long after the final page. Jennifer Mattson
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved --This text refers to the Hardcover edition.
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved --This text refers to the Hardcover edition.
Review
"Clare Dunkle brings a fresh new voice and a fresh new vision to the high art of fantasy. She creates a world filled with intense excitement, terror, beauty, and love--a world as persuasive as it is remarkable." --Lloyd Alexander
* "A luminously polished fantasy that starts off strong and just gets better. A masterly debut."--Publishers Weekly, starred review
"The impact of Dunkle's evocative storytelling lingers long after the final page."--Booklist
* "A luminously polished fantasy that starts off strong and just gets better. A masterly debut."--Publishers Weekly, starred review
"The impact of Dunkle's evocative storytelling lingers long after the final page."--Booklist
About the Author
Clare B. Dunkle is also the author of By These Ten Bones. A native of north Texas, she and her family currently live in Germany.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
CHAPTER TWO
The change in Kate was obvious to all, but no one understood it. Prim and Celia were sure Kate's restless unhappiness was due to disappointment. Prim assured her that Hugh would give in to their arguments and take her into town, but Kate no longer wanted to go. In the aftermath of her guardian's horrible disclosure, society parties had gone quite out of her head.
Kate couldn't bear for her little sister to find out that they weren't really family, so she said nothing about what she had learned, and she tried to keep up a cheerful appearance. But keeping a secret from loved ones is a heavy burden, and now she was keeping two secrets. Her nightmares were wearing her out, and her worried sister's constant questions were upsetting her. Prim noticed the pale cheeks and the dark shadows under her niece's eyes. Lips tight, she called the doctor, but neither he nor Prim could find anything wrong. Between them, they dosed Kate with a variety of strong and well-meaning remedies that did no good at all.
The weather changed with the approaching end of summer, and clouds gathered over the Hill. One breathless afternoon nothing could bring relief to spirit or body. A gray haze hung in the air, too diffuse to be called clouds, but too thick to be called anything else. The sun shone through it as a brilliant white spot, and not a whisper of wind stirred. As evening came, no thunder rumbled in the hills, and no breeze sprang up to fan their clammy cheeks. The sun was leaving without a blaze of color. The thick haze just seemed to swallow it.
"Please, Aunt Prim, let us walk up in the hills and see if we can't find some cool wind somewhere," Kate begged. "I promise we'll come back before it gets dark." Her aunt knew better than to let her go. Storms were sure to follow a day like this, even if they were taking their time building. But at last she gave consent, with all the conditions that approaching storms and nightfall demanded. They were to stay out of the woods, watch the sky, and come back at the first sign of bad weather.
The girls headed down through the orchard, intent on the rocky meadows beyond. Kate was sure that if they climbed to the top of one of those grassy hills, they were bound to find a breeze, but at the top of their meadow, they found no breath stirring. The twilight was blending with the strange, close sky to form a dark brown haze, and the grass at their feet shone with a blond shimmer, as if the few rays of light left could not rise above the surface of the ground. Landmarks even a few yards away were melting into the brown gloom. Purple lightning bloomed across the dark sky before them.
"We'd better go back," sighed Kate.
They waded through the grass back down the hillside. Ahead of them in the thick dusk stood the stone wall of the meadow, but no gate appeared as they followed the meadow's edge.
"Wait, Em, we must have gotten turned around. The gate's over there."
As their fence formed a corner with another stone fence, the gate appeared a few feet from them, white boards gleaming in the dim light. They hurried over to it as another shining purple curtain shook across the sky, and swinging the gate shut, they sped up the little road before them.
A couple of minutes later, they stopped short in bewilderment. Another stone fence blocked their path. But how was this possible? They should be at the orchard by now. The two girls climbed a slight rise and looked around in all directions, trying to make out the shapes of trees that marked the orchard. Some faint light still remained. They could see each other's faces, pale in the deep dusk, but now they couldn't distinguish the black horizon from the black cloudbanks. The lightning, undulating over the swollen masses of the clouds, was distant and too weak to see by. It gleamed silently first in front and then behind them.
"This makes no sense," Kate said firmly, thinking over the way they had come. "All we had to do was walk back down the hill, through the gate, and up the orchard path. We've missed the gate somehow. There must be two in that meadow, and we hit on the other one. We'll follow the road back and look for the other gate out of that field, the one that takes us to the orchard."
With that plan in mind, they started off confidently, but now their light was gone. They found the little road again more by feel than by sight, but it didn't lead them to a gate. It turned and skirted along another stone wall, went through a tumbled-down gap, and lost itself altogether in a narrow draw.
Again and again, Kate tried desperately to find the right path in the darkness, making them s20retrace their steps, but each time they did, they lost their old landmarks. Everything seemed to shift in the darkness around them. They had no idea which direction they faced or where home was. They could only tell that they were moving farther and farther from the shelter of the woodlands. The fields were flattening out, and stone fences were becoming rare.
There followed a time which was the worst in their lives. Method was gone, and landmarks were forgotten. They blundered along hand in hand through the dense blackness, following any path they crossed. Lightning seemed to be all around them now, and every white flash lit up a dreary landscape that held no familiar sight. One black field followed another. They might be one mile from home, or they might be ten. They certainly felt that they had walked a hundred.
As they stumbled along, footsore and exhausted, Emily let out an excited squeak and tugged Kate around. Far across the fields, a light was shining. It wavered, winked out, and then showed up again. The girls turned and scrambled toward it.
The light was a bonfire, blazing up in the darkness with a reddish glow, and figures moved back and forth before it. The fire lit up no house or barn. It appeared to be built in the middle of an empty field. Kate began to watch the figures by the fire uneasily. A hunting party? Gypsies? Vagabonds? Two men stood by the fire in long cloaks, their hoods pulled down over their faces. That spoke perhaps of hunting and of the stormy weather. But two or three short people moved about as well. Children? They had to be, but there was something odd about their shapes. As the girls came nearer, Kate noticed four horses standing patiently beyond the fire. They appeared to be saddled. Hunting, then, but who would be out on such a night? She began to slow down, not so anxious to walk out of the darkness toward this strange group, but Emily, clutching Kate's hand, began to speed up. Warmth, light, people-these held no fears for her. She broke into a trot, pulling her sister behind her.
The party turned, sensing their approach. One of the short figures broke away from the fire-lit circle and bustled toward them.
"Oh, look! Two pretty girls right out of the storm! Do let old Agatha tell your fortune, dears."
"Gypsies!" whispered Emily excitedly as Agatha hurried up. Kate stared down, astonished, at the shortest woman she had ever seen. Agatha came up only a little past Kate's waist, but her small, stocky body did not appear to be hunched or twisted. The old face was seamed into countless wrinkles, and the black eyes snapped and sparkled in the firelight. "Here," she said, capturing Kate's hand in her own surprisingly large one, "come by the fire so I can see your pretty face."
As Kate followed Agatha over to the bonfire, she glanced around nervously at the other members of the party. The two men stood nearby. One was only a little taller than she, thick and barrel-chested. The other man, of average height, towered over him. Perhaps they had been conversing before, but now they were silent, watching Agatha and the two girls. They were draped in the black cloaks and hoods she had noticed earlier, and she could see nothing at all of their faces. This was prudent, given the coming storm, but it irked Kate to be seen and not to see. She wished she had a cloak of her own.
Agatha, meanwhile, was peering intently at Kate's palm, turning it this way and that in the firelight. "Oh," she breathed. "Not every young lady has a hand like this." Kate heard chuckles from the men. "But, dear," she said, ignoring them, "I see danger in this hand. Danger from someone very close to you." Now the men roared with laughter. "Be quiet, the two of you!" She whirled on them, still holding Kate fast. "I'm very serious!"
"What about me?" demanded Emily eagerly, holding out her hand to the old woman. "Do you see danger in my hand?" Old Agatha took her small palm and turned it toward the fire.
"And such a lively thing you are, my dear!" she said to Emily. "Still a long way from marriage, aren't you? Well, that can't be helped, and one does grow, you know." Emily giggled over this odd speech, but Kate frowned. Hugging her arms about her, she stepped back from the firelight and eyed the two men warily. Now they had turned away and were talking again in quiet tones. She couldn't seem to catch what they were saying. The taller one threw his head back and laughed at something the short one said. She noticed as he laughed that he carried one shoulder higher than the other.
"Your palm speaks of tears early but laughter late," Agatha summed up grandly. "That's as good as a palm can say. You've a lovely, open nature, child."
"Oh, Kate, look!" Emily called excitedly. Kate turned to see a huge black tomcat approaching the fire. It rubbed its head against Emily's knee, its velvet coat shining in the light. Kate felt as if she couldn't breathe. Surely the cat was four times-no, six times-larger than the largest cat she'd ever seen!
"Isn't he beautiful?" squealed Emily, kneeling to tickle his chin. She loved animals of all descriptions, and her greatest regret was that the aunts wouldn't let her keep pets. The enormous cat was almost eye to eye with her. "Miaow?" he said plainly, and that is just what it sounded like: a miaow said by a person imitating a cat. Kate shook her head and stared hard at the giant feline as if he were a puz...
The change in Kate was obvious to all, but no one understood it. Prim and Celia were sure Kate's restless unhappiness was due to disappointment. Prim assured her that Hugh would give in to their arguments and take her into town, but Kate no longer wanted to go. In the aftermath of her guardian's horrible disclosure, society parties had gone quite out of her head.
Kate couldn't bear for her little sister to find out that they weren't really family, so she said nothing about what she had learned, and she tried to keep up a cheerful appearance. But keeping a secret from loved ones is a heavy burden, and now she was keeping two secrets. Her nightmares were wearing her out, and her worried sister's constant questions were upsetting her. Prim noticed the pale cheeks and the dark shadows under her niece's eyes. Lips tight, she called the doctor, but neither he nor Prim could find anything wrong. Between them, they dosed Kate with a variety of strong and well-meaning remedies that did no good at all.
The weather changed with the approaching end of summer, and clouds gathered over the Hill. One breathless afternoon nothing could bring relief to spirit or body. A gray haze hung in the air, too diffuse to be called clouds, but too thick to be called anything else. The sun shone through it as a brilliant white spot, and not a whisper of wind stirred. As evening came, no thunder rumbled in the hills, and no breeze sprang up to fan their clammy cheeks. The sun was leaving without a blaze of color. The thick haze just seemed to swallow it.
"Please, Aunt Prim, let us walk up in the hills and see if we can't find some cool wind somewhere," Kate begged. "I promise we'll come back before it gets dark." Her aunt knew better than to let her go. Storms were sure to follow a day like this, even if they were taking their time building. But at last she gave consent, with all the conditions that approaching storms and nightfall demanded. They were to stay out of the woods, watch the sky, and come back at the first sign of bad weather.
The girls headed down through the orchard, intent on the rocky meadows beyond. Kate was sure that if they climbed to the top of one of those grassy hills, they were bound to find a breeze, but at the top of their meadow, they found no breath stirring. The twilight was blending with the strange, close sky to form a dark brown haze, and the grass at their feet shone with a blond shimmer, as if the few rays of light left could not rise above the surface of the ground. Landmarks even a few yards away were melting into the brown gloom. Purple lightning bloomed across the dark sky before them.
"We'd better go back," sighed Kate.
They waded through the grass back down the hillside. Ahead of them in the thick dusk stood the stone wall of the meadow, but no gate appeared as they followed the meadow's edge.
"Wait, Em, we must have gotten turned around. The gate's over there."
As their fence formed a corner with another stone fence, the gate appeared a few feet from them, white boards gleaming in the dim light. They hurried over to it as another shining purple curtain shook across the sky, and swinging the gate shut, they sped up the little road before them.
A couple of minutes later, they stopped short in bewilderment. Another stone fence blocked their path. But how was this possible? They should be at the orchard by now. The two girls climbed a slight rise and looked around in all directions, trying to make out the shapes of trees that marked the orchard. Some faint light still remained. They could see each other's faces, pale in the deep dusk, but now they couldn't distinguish the black horizon from the black cloudbanks. The lightning, undulating over the swollen masses of the clouds, was distant and too weak to see by. It gleamed silently first in front and then behind them.
"This makes no sense," Kate said firmly, thinking over the way they had come. "All we had to do was walk back down the hill, through the gate, and up the orchard path. We've missed the gate somehow. There must be two in that meadow, and we hit on the other one. We'll follow the road back and look for the other gate out of that field, the one that takes us to the orchard."
With that plan in mind, they started off confidently, but now their light was gone. They found the little road again more by feel than by sight, but it didn't lead them to a gate. It turned and skirted along another stone wall, went through a tumbled-down gap, and lost itself altogether in a narrow draw.
Again and again, Kate tried desperately to find the right path in the darkness, making them s20retrace their steps, but each time they did, they lost their old landmarks. Everything seemed to shift in the darkness around them. They had no idea which direction they faced or where home was. They could only tell that they were moving farther and farther from the shelter of the woodlands. The fields were flattening out, and stone fences were becoming rare.
There followed a time which was the worst in their lives. Method was gone, and landmarks were forgotten. They blundered along hand in hand through the dense blackness, following any path they crossed. Lightning seemed to be all around them now, and every white flash lit up a dreary landscape that held no familiar sight. One black field followed another. They might be one mile from home, or they might be ten. They certainly felt that they had walked a hundred.
As they stumbled along, footsore and exhausted, Emily let out an excited squeak and tugged Kate around. Far across the fields, a light was shining. It wavered, winked out, and then showed up again. The girls turned and scrambled toward it.
The light was a bonfire, blazing up in the darkness with a reddish glow, and figures moved back and forth before it. The fire lit up no house or barn. It appeared to be built in the middle of an empty field. Kate began to watch the figures by the fire uneasily. A hunting party? Gypsies? Vagabonds? Two men stood by the fire in long cloaks, their hoods pulled down over their faces. That spoke perhaps of hunting and of the stormy weather. But two or three short people moved about as well. Children? They had to be, but there was something odd about their shapes. As the girls came nearer, Kate noticed four horses standing patiently beyond the fire. They appeared to be saddled. Hunting, then, but who would be out on such a night? She began to slow down, not so anxious to walk out of the darkness toward this strange group, but Emily, clutching Kate's hand, began to speed up. Warmth, light, people-these held no fears for her. She broke into a trot, pulling her sister behind her.
The party turned, sensing their approach. One of the short figures broke away from the fire-lit circle and bustled toward them.
"Oh, look! Two pretty girls right out of the storm! Do let old Agatha tell your fortune, dears."
"Gypsies!" whispered Emily excitedly as Agatha hurried up. Kate stared down, astonished, at the shortest woman she had ever seen. Agatha came up only a little past Kate's waist, but her small, stocky body did not appear to be hunched or twisted. The old face was seamed into countless wrinkles, and the black eyes snapped and sparkled in the firelight. "Here," she said, capturing Kate's hand in her own surprisingly large one, "come by the fire so I can see your pretty face."
As Kate followed Agatha over to the bonfire, she glanced around nervously at the other members of the party. The two men stood nearby. One was only a little taller than she, thick and barrel-chested. The other man, of average height, towered over him. Perhaps they had been conversing before, but now they were silent, watching Agatha and the two girls. They were draped in the black cloaks and hoods she had noticed earlier, and she could see nothing at all of their faces. This was prudent, given the coming storm, but it irked Kate to be seen and not to see. She wished she had a cloak of her own.
Agatha, meanwhile, was peering intently at Kate's palm, turning it this way and that in the firelight. "Oh," she breathed. "Not every young lady has a hand like this." Kate heard chuckles from the men. "But, dear," she said, ignoring them, "I see danger in this hand. Danger from someone very close to you." Now the men roared with laughter. "Be quiet, the two of you!" She whirled on them, still holding Kate fast. "I'm very serious!"
"What about me?" demanded Emily eagerly, holding out her hand to the old woman. "Do you see danger in my hand?" Old Agatha took her small palm and turned it toward the fire.
"And such a lively thing you are, my dear!" she said to Emily. "Still a long way from marriage, aren't you? Well, that can't be helped, and one does grow, you know." Emily giggled over this odd speech, but Kate frowned. Hugging her arms about her, she stepped back from the firelight and eyed the two men warily. Now they had turned away and were talking again in quiet tones. She couldn't seem to catch what they were saying. The taller one threw his head back and laughed at something the short one said. She noticed as he laughed that he carried one shoulder higher than the other.
"Your palm speaks of tears early but laughter late," Agatha summed up grandly. "That's as good as a palm can say. You've a lovely, open nature, child."
"Oh, Kate, look!" Emily called excitedly. Kate turned to see a huge black tomcat approaching the fire. It rubbed its head against Emily's knee, its velvet coat shining in the light. Kate felt as if she couldn't breathe. Surely the cat was four times-no, six times-larger than the largest cat she'd ever seen!
"Isn't he beautiful?" squealed Emily, kneeling to tickle his chin. She loved animals of all descriptions, and her greatest regret was that the aunts wouldn't let her keep pets. The enormous cat was almost eye to eye with her. "Miaow?" he said plainly, and that is just what it sounded like: a miaow said by a person imitating a cat. Kate shook her head and stared hard at the giant feline as if he were a puz...
