Home › ETC › The Bookworm
Children, from necessity to obsession
STORY TOOLS
Tell us about it
- What would you add to this story? Tell us what we missed.
- Do you have photos from this event? Documents we need to see? Share with us.
- Upload photos & videos
- More ways to get your stuff online and in the paper.
More The Bookworm
Share and Enjoy [?]
STORY TOOLS
Tell us about it
- What would you add to this story? Tell us what we missed.
- Do you have photos from this event? Documents we need to see? Share with us.
- Upload photos & videos
- More ways to get your stuff online and in the paper.
More The Bookworm
Share and Enjoy [?]
“A Mercy”
by Toni Morrison
In the natural order of things, parents sacrifice for their children.
If there is hunger, a mother will feed her child and go hungry herself. If it’s raining, a father will be drenched while the child stays sheltered. Parents work long hours to make sure the child has a good education and a sunny future.
And sometimes, a parent will do the unimaginable to save her child’s life. In the new book “A Mercy” by Toni Morrison, a girl forever mourns her mother’s decision while those around her nurse their own griefs.
It is 1690 and Rebekah Vaark is gravely ill. If Mistress dies, it won’t be good for the farm, or for the three women servants who live there, too. If Mistress dies of the pox, Lina fears that she and Sorrow and Florens will be taken by the Anabaptists. They’ll take the farm, too, and everything Mistress and Sir worked hard for.
A trader by profession, Jacob Vaark never wanted a farm, but he was pleasantly surprised when a distant uncle left him a plot of land. Suddenly wanting roots, Jacob paid for Rebekah’s passage and married her, straight off the ship that brought her across the ocean. Soon, babies came but none of them survived except Patrician, the little girl who put light in Rebekah’s eyes.
But Patrician was gone, as were the brothers who followed her in birth and to the grave. And so was Jacob, dead of the pox. He left his wife an almost-finished mansion, a run-down farm and three slave women. Jacob never wanted slaves, but when he was offered first Lina, then Sorrow, then little Florens in exchange for debt, he knew he could give them some kind of home.
As Mistress lay, delirious, Lina had no choice but to send Florens out to find the blacksmith who could save Mistress’ life. The blacksmith was a freed-man and Lina knew that he had coupled with Florens, which was bad. Still, she knew he could save Mistress, so she sent a love-struck girl to fetch him.
No matter where he was, Florens was sure she could find the blacksmith. Wearing Sir’s boots and carrying a wax-sealed letter from Mistress, Florens set off to bring him to the farm. She had hopes that they would be together after he saved Mistress. The blacksmith would never send her away in the way that her own mother did.
It’s been said about author Toni Morrison’s work that you’ll either love it or hate it.
I loved it.
“A Mercy” is tender and brutal, quiet and urgent, with a cast of characters that will make you forget you’re reading a novel. I loved the contemplative Lina and Rebekah, who seemed to so resigned. Morrison gives Florens the perfect touch of “teen-with-attitude,” which made her heartbreaks all the more painful.
If you’re looking for a short novel that will, at the end, make you want to turn around and experience it again, get “A Mercy” and sacrifice some time. You won’t be sorry.
“The Elfish Gene”
by Mark Barrowcliffe
They are the three words that cause panic and excitement. Three words that drive young humans to amazing depths of desperation. Words that strike fear in the hearts of parents, causing them stand in long lines during the holidays.
“Collect Them All.”
Scientists say that the urge to collect is biological. Our ancient ancestors did it to feed their brood, but since we no longer forage, we collect for fun.
And some of us take it to the extreme. In the new book “The Elfish Gene” by Mark Barrowcliffe, you’ll read about one man’s adolescent addiction and the way it shaped his entire life.
As a very young man, Mark Barrowcliffe often fancied himself as intelligent, and a bit of a sardonic rake. The reality, he now admits, was that the things he said were annoying and often made people roll their eyes and scurry away.
Usually, that “something said” was about dragons or wizards.
By age 11, Barrowcliffe had fallen in love with the role-playing fantasy game, Dungeons & Dragons. At first, he played with older, fourth-year students at his school in Coventry, England, but the fourth-year boys thought Barrowcliffe’s theatrics were a bit too much. The fourth-years brutally barred him from playing.
Undaunted, Barrowcliffe found a larger group of D&D players, this one run by a gaming adult and populated with boys from another social class. There, realism in the fantasy games was of the utmost importance; Barrowcliffe says that, instead of a game that lasted an afternoon, the group could spend hours looking for an imaginary rivet for make-believe armor. Still, it was in this group that Barrowcliffe felt most accepted.
From age 11 to 16, Barrowcliffe was obsessed with dungeons, dragons, wizards, and orcs. His every conversation — even those he had with his patiently loving “nan” — led back to his fantasy world.
But somewhere toward the end of his adolescence, D&D didn’t seem like so much fun any more. Girls were more appealing, and spending time in the disco was more fun than time in a room with gassy adolescent boys and miniature wizard figures. On the night he left his beloved gamebook in the living room of a prankster, Barrowcliffe knew he’d left his fantasy world behind.
Or did he?
Part of me liked this book. Author Mark Barrowcliffe can be scathingly funny at times, and his descriptive memories will cast a spell on your funnybone. On the other hand, he admits he must’ve bored many people to tears with his incessant dragon talk, and in that, he hasn’t changed much. Perhaps his on-and-on-and-on about the game, his fellow players and their characters was meant to illustrate his earlier obsession, but it made me want to breathe fire on this book for good.
If you were (or are) heavily immersed in fantasy gaming, “The Elfish Gene” will make a lot of sense to you, and you’ll enjoy completely. If you don’t understand those kinds of role-playing games, though, be dragon yourself away to find another book.
The Bookworm is Terri Schlichenmeyer. Terri has been reading since she was 3 years old and she never goes anywhere without a book. She lives on a hill in Wisconsin with two dogs and 11,000 books.
Comments
This site does not necessarily agree with comments posted below — responsibility lies with the relevant reader alone. Read our privacy policy & user agreement.
Post your comment
(Requires free registration.)