{"id":203,"date":"2006-10-02T12:15:56","date_gmt":"2006-10-02T19:15:56","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/?p=203"},"modified":"2006-10-02T12:24:23","modified_gmt":"2006-10-02T19:24:23","slug":"you-just-try-to-get-that-waterboys-song-outta-your-head-while-you-read-this-one","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/?p=203","title":{"rendered":"You just try<\/em> to get that Waterboys song
outta your head while you read this one . . ."},"content":{"rendered":"

stolen.gif<\/p>\n

Oh, it’s too hard. “Fisherman’s Blues,”<\/a><\/strong> anyone? Ah, that takes me back . . .<\/p>\n

Anyway, ever heard of the changeling myth? You know you have. And not just when the goblins come and take Ida’s sister away<\/a><\/strong>, leaving an ice baby in her place (o yes, I can work Sendak into any review). A changeling is a fairy or hobgoblin who steals into your home, whisks away your young child, and changes place with him or her. It’s an eons-old folk myth, perhaps most famously put to use in W.B. Yeats’ poem<\/a><\/strong> (and subsequently, for nerds like me, put to song by the aforementioned Waterboys way, way back in 1988 when I was but a wee sophomore in high school). In Keith Donohue’s The Stolen Child<\/em><\/a><\/strong>, published this year, this myth is put to great creative use.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

I found this book in an actual moment of literary serendipity. I didn’t read about it on a blog; no one recommended it; I hadn’t even heard of it (turns out, according to NPR, that major reviewers mostly ignored it at first. Amazon sent galley copies to customer reviewers, who love to share their opinions, and it was marketed in that manner). I saw the beguiling cover image<\/a><\/strong> during an honest-to-goodness, child-free, leisurely moment in my local public library where I browsed the New Books section. After reading the book flap, I thought the concept was wholly original (an original twist on a theme, that is) and exciting, and it’s described as a “modern fairy tale.” Ooh, ooh! I love my fairy tales and any variation thereof. Then, I started it. I was immediately hooked even before the story started; the page after the dedication page evokes the words of Louise Gluck<\/a><\/strong>: “We look at the world once, in childhood. The rest is memory.” The book had me at hello. And then it commenced to give me the creeps — in a good way. I’d turn over in my sleep (when I had managed to put the book down and actually slumber) and think about those elfin, skittish, spooky, little scamps. Shiver.<\/p>\n

But, confound it all, people! There were holes. Holes, I tell ya, in the writing. Let me stress here that I do recommend this book<\/em> in that I still say it’s oh-so original (you won’t read anything else like it this year), it was compelling as all get-out, and Donohue is capable of some really illuminating prose, but these holes in the plot and characters’ development kept interrupting my reading reverie.<\/p>\n

Okay, so what’s the basic plot here? . . . In the book’s opening, a changeling tells us that thirty years ago, in 1949, he swapped places with a human child, Henry Day, becoming his exact physical copy. “Not any boy or girl will do,” he explains, “but only those rare souls baffled by their young lives or attuned to the weeping troubles of this world.” The real Henry (eventually dubbed Aniday by his fellow changelings), who had escaped into the woods to run away from his parents that day, is kidnapped, drug along the forest floor, thrown into the water (in what Kirkus Reviews<\/em><\/a><\/strong> aptly called a kind of “pagan baptism”), and then must acclimate to his new and wild forest existence and to the fact that he’s now an ageless changeling, that he will eternally be seven years old in his physical form. The changeling, now a duplicate of Henry Day back in the world of humans, must try to convince his parents that nothing has changed (but, not to worry — before kidnapping a child, the changelings do their research and learn everything possible about the child in order to make a seamless transition). To complicate matters, the changeling-now-in-the-form-of-Henry-Day possesses great talent on the piano, though the real Henry couldn’t carry a tune, and his parents are baffled (but, you see, our changeling was also once a child — a German musical prodigy of sorts over a century ago) . . . Over the course of approximately thirty years Donohue takes us into the worlds and minds of these two characters, alternating points-of-view between them with each chapter, flip-flopping from fantasy to reality. They sometimes cross one another’s paths, but will they ever meet face-to-face? Will the real Henry Day get his life back — or even remember it? That’s for you to find out.<\/p>\n

Donohue is a promising talent (this is his first novel) and brings us moments of true poignancy. He also tackles multidinous and huge themes in this novel that is many things, including a coming-of-age story, a mystery, an adventure tale, and much more. He addresses issues of identity; he both celebrates memory and comments upon its disintegration in our lives; via both Henry and Aniday he personifies the longing to belong, feelings of alienation, the loss of innocence, and the inevitable separation from parents that must take place for all. Through their loneliness and their triumphs, we are treated — without excessive sentimentality — to a story about our very humanity and the power of love to transcend life’s despairs. He also brings to life in vivid detail the America of the 1950s, ’60s, and ’70s, managing even to comment upon ugly urban sprawl. That’s a lot to tackle in one novel, and it’s compelling. And I won’t forget it for a long, long time (especially since the changeling-in-the-form of Henry Day works through a lot of his confusion and pain through his piano-playing. Give me a book about music — particularly one in which the ivories are tickled — and the ability of art to help us heal, one of my favorite themes of all time, and I’m hooked. Aniday also longs for books, manages to sneak into the local library in town, and finds healing and comfort as well amongst the pages of classic novels in the library’s basement).<\/p>\n

But the holes! The holes!<\/em> Is it just me? I won’t discuss them here so as not to spoil the book for anyone who wants to read it. If anyone else has read it and wants to help me with these holes (literary spackle, anyone?), email me offline or we can begin a discussion in the comments section below (any potential readers of this novel can avow to not read the comments). Several things I found downright implausible; some, unfounded; some connections, tenuous; and then — in my mind — a couple of gaping holes in the narrative. Wah!<\/p>\n

Note: I’m placing this under “Young Adult” as well as “Adult Fiction,” since VOYA<\/a><\/strong> reviewed it (and not favorably, I might add, though a great majority of the reviews for this book are glowing). Disappointingly, VOYA botched one of the plot points in their review. Nevertheless, this would indeed appeal to some teens, particularly those interested in myths.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Oh, it’s too hard. “Fisherman’s Blues,” anyone? Ah, that takes me back . . . Anyway, ever heard of the changeling myth? You know you have. And not just when the goblins come and take Ida’s sister away, leaving an ice baby in her place (o yes, I can work Sendak into any review). A […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[5,4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-203","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-adult-fiction","category-young-adult"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/203","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=203"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/203\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=203"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=203"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/blaine.org\/sevenimpossiblethings\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=203"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}