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Summary
Summary
Salamanca Tree Hiddle, age 13, and her grandparents are off to find Salamanca's mother, who left home on a trip to Idaho and never came back. As they acquire a car and retrace her route, Sal tells the story of her friend Phoebe Winterbottom, whose mother also disappeared under unusual circumstances.
Summary
How about a story? Spin us a yarn.
Instantly, Phoebe Winterbottom came to mind.
I could tell you an extensively strange story, I warned. Oh,
good Gram said. Delicious
And that is how I happened to tell them about Phoebe, her disappearing
mother, and the lunatic. In her own award-winning style, Sharon Creech intricately weaves together two tales, one funny, one bittersweet, to create a heartwarming, compelling, and utterly moving story of love, loss, and the complexity of human emotion.
Author Notes
Sharon Creech was on born July 29, 1945 in South Euclid, Ohio, a suburb of Cleveland. She was in college when she took literature and writing courses and became intrigued by story-telling. Later, she was a teacher (high school English and writing) in England and in Switzerland.
Her novel Walk Two Moons received in 1995 Newbery Medal; The Wanderer was a 2001 Newbery Honor book and Ruby Holler received the 2002 Carnegie Medal. In 2007, Heartbeat was a finalist in the Junior Division (4th to 6th grades) of the Young Reader's Choice Awards, sponsored by the Pacific Northwest Library Association. She has written over 15 fiction novels for young readers.
She is married to Lyle Rigg, who is the headmaster of The Pennington School in Pennington, New Jersey, and have two grown children, Rob and Karin.
(Bowker Author Biography)
Reviews (1)
School Library Journal Review
Gr 6-9ÄIn this Newbery Award book by Sharon Creech (HarperCollins, 1994), 13-year-old Salamanca Tree Hiddle travels west with her Grams and Gramps to Lewiston, Idaho, the destination from which her mother did not return. As Sal entertains her grandparents with stories of her friend, Phoebe, who sees "lunatics" around every corner, threads from many life stories are seamlessly entwined. This pilgrimage wonderfully mirrors the journey of discovery that is adolescence, as Sal's search for the truth about her mother becomes a journey of discovery about much more. In vividly described incidents both humorous and poignant, everyone's "story" is told. The reading by British actress Kate Harper is crisp and well-paced, so that the layered, complex style doesn't confuse listeners. Harper creates appropriate and wonderfully individual voices for everyone, especially the irrepressible Phoebe. The rhythms of the reading effectively reflect the rhythms of the story's back and forth motion and its lyrical language.ÄMary Arnold, Medina County District Library, Brunswick, OH (c) Copyright 2010. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Excerpts
Excerpts
Walk Two Moons Chapter One A Face at the Window Gramps says that I am a country girl at heart, and that is true. I have lived most of my thirteen years in Bybanks, Kentucky, which is not much more than a caboodle of houses roosting in a green spot alongside the Ohio River. just over a year ago, my father plucked me up like a weed and took me and all our belongings (no, that is not true--he did not bring the chestnut tree, the willow, the maple, the hayloft, or the swimming hole, which all belonged to me) and we drove three hundred miles straight north and stopped in front of a house in Euclid, Ohio. "No trees?" I said. "This is where we're going to live?" "No," my father said. "This is Margaret's house." The front door of the house opened and a lady with wild red hair stood there. I looked up and down the street. The houses were all jammed together like a row of birdhouses. In front of each house was a tiny square of grass, and in front of that was a thin gray sidewalk running alongside a gray road. "Where's the barn?" I asked. "The river? The swimming hole?" "Oh, Sal," my father said. "Come on. There's Margaret." He waved to the lady at the door. "We have to go back. I forgot something." The lady with the wild red hair opened the door and came out onto the porch. "In the back of my closet," I said, under the floorboards. I put something there, and I've got to have it." "Don't be a goose. Come and see Margaret." I did not want to see Margaret. I stood there, looking around, and that's when I saw the face pressed up against an upstairs window next door. It was a round girl's face, and it looked afraid. I didn't know it then, but that face belonged to Phoebe Winterbottom, a girl who had a powerful imagination, who would become my friend, and who would have many peculiar things happen to her. Not long ago, when I was locked in a car with my grandparents for six days, I told them the story of Phoebe, and when I finished telling them--or maybe even as I was telling them--I realized that the story of Phoebe was like the plaster wall in our old house in Bybanks, Kentucky. My father started chipping away at a plaster wall in the living room of our house in Bybanks shortly after my mother left us one April morning. Our house was an old farmhouse that my parents had been restoring, room by room. Each night as he waited to hear from my mother, he chipped away at that wall. On the night that we got the bad news--that she was not returning--he pounded and pounded, on that wall with a chisel and a hammer. At two o'clock in the morning, he came up to my room. I was not asleep. He led me downstairs and showed me what he had found. Hidden behind the wall was a brick fireplace. The reason that Phoebe's story reminds me of that plaster wall and the hidden fireplace is that beneath Phoebe's story was another one. Mine. Walk Two Moons . Copyright © by Sharon Creech. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold. Excerpted from Walk Two Moons by Sharon Creech All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
