Fantasy |
Juvenile Fiction |
Summary
Summary
A classic tale by Newbery Medalist Kate DiCamillo, America's beloved storyteller
-The New York Times Book Review
(Ages 8-13)
When a fortuneteller's tent appears in the market square, orphan Peter Augustus Duchene knows the questions that he needs to ask: Does his sister still live? And if so, how can he find her? The mysterious answer (an elephant! An elephant will lead him there!) sets off a remarkable chain of events. With atmospheric illustrations by Yoko Tanaka, here is a captivating tale that could only be narrated by Newbery Medalist Kate DiCamillo. In this timeless fable, she evokes the largest of themes -hope and belonging, desire and compassion- with the lightness of a magician's touch.
Author Notes
Kate DiCamillo was born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania on March 25, 1964. She received an English degree from the University of Florida. At the age of thirty, she moved to Minneapolis, Minnesota and worked for a book warehouse on the children's floor. After working there for four and a half years, she fell in love with children's books and began writing. DiCamillo wrote the 2001 Newbery-honor book, Because of Winn-Dixie, which was adapted into a film in 2005. In 2004, she won the Newbery Medal for The Tale of Despereaux, which was also adapted into a movie in 2008, and for Flora and Ulysses in 2013. Her other works include the Mercy Watson series, The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane, and The Magician's Elephant. She was named the National Ambassador for Young People's Literature by the Library of Congress for the term 2014-2015.
Kate's title, Raymie Nightingale, mde the New York Times bestseller list in 2016.
Reviews (1)
New York Review of Books Review
KATE DICAMILLO'S new book, "The Magician's Elephant," though intended for young readers, has enough, and then more, of weird parable and enigmatic puzzle about it to bring it into the Borges precincts, if not right into the heart of Calvino country. A magician, working in the old city of Baltese - a Central European town perfectly evoked by DiCamillo's sentences ("the small shops with their crooked tiled roofs, and the pigeons who forever perched atop them, singing sad songs that did not quite begin and never truly ended") and Yoko Tanaka's chiaroscuro drawings - has made a comic and sinister mistake. Intending to call down a bouquet of lilies in a concluding trick, he has instead summoned an elephant, who crashes through the roof of the opera house to land in the lap of a rich woman named Madam LaVaughn, paralyzing her. The magician is arrested and imprisoned, while the elephant is at first detained and then displayed in the chateau of the local countess, where she is cared for by a "bent and twisted" mason named Bartok Whynn, who was injured in a cathedral accident. The elephant becomes the talk of the town, and the pages in which DiCamillo catalogs Baltese elephant mania are among the funniest and most charming in the book. ("The street vendors sold, for exorbitant prices, chunks of plaster that had fallen onto the stage when the elephant made her dramatic appearance. 'Cataclysm!' The vendors snouted. 'Mayhem! Possess the plaster of disaster!'") Then, through the work of strange dreams and associations, the elephant becomes the centerpiece in the longings of an assortment of seemingly unrelated and lonely people: a fatherless boy training to be a soldier; a girl - could it be his lost sister? - in an orphanage; an old lady and a blind ex-army dog. The true matter of the story is the slow interweaving of this thwarted and longing group, who will come together around the elephant on a snowy night. All of this might seem oddly gray and heavy material to land in the laps of children, even fans of DiCamillo's sad and smoky earlier books. And, to be sure, though "The Magician's Elephant" offers pleasures for the nighttime readaloud - chiefly in the variety of accents it demands for the many nicely distinguished voices - it is more a book for quiet corners and Christmas evenings than for bedtimes. DiCamillo writes here in a register entirely her own, catching not the whimsical-fabulous note of earlier masters for young readers, nor the jokeyrealistic one that has too often taken its place, but instead a mood of sober magic that unfolds into something that can be called, without pejorative, "sentimental," meaning straightforward and heartfelt. The style may evoke Calvino, but the substance belongs to Christmas. Though the spell the story casts depends on its grasp of human cruelty (both the blind dog and the boy have in different ways been wounded by war), when at last the participants are memorialized in a cathedral relief - "Each person has a hold of the other, each one is connected to the one before him" - we feel in the presence of a bright, reassuring truth about community. A dull but significant book might be written on the attraction, here as elsewhere recently in children's literature, of this particular fantasy cityscape: the Middle European town with its culture of soldiers and countesses and traveling magicians and long service to the emperor. Perhaps we now share a knowledge, implicit but never entirely articulated, that these tragic invisible cities, darkened by history, have become the perfect setting for modern fables. But however much truth that study might contain, the magic of DiCamillo's stories is that while they have the dignity of literature, they're never unduly "literary." Young readers are caught up in the fable before they know they are being fabulized at, trapped in the poetry of the allegory without any idea that allegories are set as traps by authors. Kate DiCamillo has a gift, inequitably distributed among writers of all kinds, of eliminating the obvious and still egging on the reader. She writes beautifully but thinks simply. The purity of her prose - the reader goes from paragraph to paragraph delighting in the wonderful simple sentences - only adds to the winsome purity of her vision. Her faith in her own images (an elephant in snowfall in twilight) has once again given us a light but potent fable, and a moral: we are all alone, and sometimes it takes the untimely appearance of an elephant to bring us together. Adam Gopnik is a staff writer at The New Yorker. His new children's book, "The Steps Across the Water," will come out next year.
Excerpts
Excerpts
Peter stood in the small patch of light making its sullen way through the open flap of the tent. He let the fortuneteller take his hand. She examined it closely, moving her eyes back and forth and back and forth, as if there a whole host of very small words inscribed there, an entire book about Peter Augustus Duchene composed atop his palm. "Huh," she said at last. She dropped his hand and squinted up at his face. "But, of course, you are just a boy." "I am ten years old," said Peter. He took the hat from his head and stood as straight and tall as he was able. "And I am training to become a soldier, brave and true. But it does not matter how old I am. You took the florit, so now you must give me my answer." "A soldier brave and true?" said the fortuneteller. She laughed and spat on the ground. "Very well, soldier brave and true, if you say it is so, then it is so. Ask me your question." Peter felt a small stab of fear. What if after all this time he could not bear the truth? What if he did not really want to know? "Speak," said the fortuneteller. "Ask." "My parents," said Peter. "That is your question?" said the fortuneteller. "They are dead." Peter's hands trembled. "That is not my question," he said. "I know that already. You must tell me something that I do not know. You must tell me of another -- you must tell me . . ." The fortuneteller narrowed her eyes. "Ah," she said. "Her? Your sister? That is your question? Very well. She lives." Peter's heart seized upon the words. She lives. She lives! "No, please," said Peter. He closed his eyes. He concentrated. "If she lives, then I must find her, so my question is, how I do I make my way there, to where she is?" He kept his eyes closed; he waited. "The elephant," said the fortuneteller. "What?" he said. He opened his eyes, certain that he had misunderstood. "You must follow the elephant," said the fortuneteller, "she will lead you there." From the Hardcover edition. Excerpted from The Magician's Elephant by Kate DiCamillo 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.