Focus on Alfred the Great

I’ve now read three books, two fiction and one nonfiction, about the the life and times of Alfred the Great, King of Wessex (southern England) in the ninth century. I may not know all there is to know about Alfred, aka Aelfred, but I certainly know enough to admire and appreciate the man and his accomplishments.

I read The Namesake by C. Walter Hodges last year and skimmed it last week to compare it with the other two books. As you can tell from my review, Alfred in this book is portrayed as a Philosopher King, and I think that a fair portrayal, although he certainly knew battle tactics and politics, too.

In Eva March Tappan’s In the Days of Alfred the Great, the reader gains a lot more background about Alfred and his life and the political situation in Britain and the stories that were told about Alfred. I think I enjoyed this narrative nonfiction book even more than the two fictional treatments of Alfred’s life. I understand why the author who wished to write about Alfred the Great might choose a novel form: a lot of what is known about the man and his times is legend and story, not really verified. However, Ms. Tappan inserts dialog and story into her nonfiction narrative, making it readable, but also believable. I thought the story made Alfred come alive , and I learned a lot about “the days of Alfred the Great.” I purchased In the Days of Alfred the Great in a reprint edition from Living Book Press, and I recommend the LBP edition of this classic history book.

The third book I read, from another small publisher, Smidgen Press, is called The Lost Dragon of Wessex. It tells the story of an orphan boy who becomes involved in the struggle between the Saxons under Alfred the Great and the invading Danes. Wulf, in the beginning of the story, is a simple forest-dwelling peasant boy who has never been away from home. When Wulf meets a stranger and follows him to the court of Alfred, the boy encounters adventure and testing that will bring him into manhood and into his calling as either a soldier or a bard, or maybe both. The journeys in this story are from forest to city, from ignorance to education, from England to Sweden and back, and from boy to man, and the focus of the story is on Wulf and what Wulf learns in the court of King Alfred, not so much on the king himself or his character and battles.

So, the three books complement one another. The Namesake shows us a fictional, but noble King Alfred as he is remembered by the old man that King Alfred mentored and taught when the man, named Alfred also, was a boy. In the Days of Alfred the Great shows where Alfred came from, the stories that were told of him as a boy and as a man, and the challenges he had to face in defeating the Danes and bringing learning and books to his own people, the Saxons of Wessex. The Lost Dragon of Wessex presents us with Alfred at the height of powers and influence and shows what that influence might have been on one boy as well as on the country as a whole.

Have you read any books about Alfred the Great? What would you recommend?

Proud Prisoner by Walter Havighurst

This narrative history/biography book is for older middle school to high school students and adults who are interested in a different perspective on the American Revolution, particularly the war in the Kentucky, Ohio and Michigan territories west of the Appalachian Mountains. The “proud prisoner” of the title is Lieutenant Governor Henry Hamilton, British Governor of Detroit, aka “Hair Buyer”. As the war between the independence-declaring Americans and the mighty ruling British was raging in the east, the illegal settlers in Kentucky and Ohio were experiencing their own war. The British paid Native American allies, led by British officers, to raid the settlements and isolated homesteads of these settlers, who were mostly from Virginia and considered themselves Americans and Virginians, not subject to the British law that said they couldn’t settle in the land beyond the Cumberland Gap.

Henry Hamilton gained the epithet “Hair Buyer” among the Virginians because he was accused of paying the Native Americans for scalps but not for for live prisoners and of encouraging them to massacre men, women, and children. This book makes the case that Hamilton was falsely accused by a couple of unreliable witnesses with an ax to grind. However, the author also states very plainly that Hamilton gave the natives many “presents” (mostly rum), including knives specifically called scalping knives. And when the raiders brought in scalps, including those obviously taken from children, Hamilton gave them praise and more gifts. If that’s not paying for scalps, I’m not sure what it is.

So I wasn’t convinced that Governor Hamilton was an “honest and honorable man whom history has cast in a villain’s role.” Maybe the best you can say is that he was no worse than many of his compatriots as well as many of the Virginians who were also enlisting the natives to fight for them. Anyway, it was fascinating to read about this side of the War for Independence. I don’t remember learning in American history class much about George Rogers Clark, the Virginian sent by Governor Patrick Henry to capture the British outposts in the west and stop the marauding British and natives from their raids on American settlements. Nor do I remember anything at all about the governor of Detroit and the battle between his forces and the Virginia militiamen at Vincennes that ended in the capture and imprisonment of Governor Hamilton.

I thought this story, by a scholar and university professor, was well written, engaging, and well researched. Governor Hamilton left behind many papers, letters, and a diary which means the author had many sources from which to draw in telling the history of this possibly unfairly stigmatized, possibly justly hated, man. Either way, Hamilton’s life was one I knew nothing about, and I’m glad I read about him in Proud Prisoner.

The Book of Three by Lloyd Alexander

Whenever I am asked for a book suggestion in the vein of or as a follow up to Narnia or Tolkien, my first question is always, “Have you read Lloyd Alexander’s Prydain Chronicles?” And yet, I haven’t read these five books in the Prydain series, beginning with The Book of Three, in many, many years. Since I am working on reading children’s books published in 1964, sixty years ago, it was definitely time for a reread: The Book of Three was first published in 1964.

I love Lloyd Alexander’s quirky, idiosyncratic characters:

  • Taran, Assistant Pig-Keeper, is the immature, rash, and bumbling sort-of-hero of the story. Well, if not the hero, at least he’s the main character, and he’s about to go on an epic hero’s journey, even if he is only an Assistant Pig-Keeper.
  • Hen Wen, the oracular pig is lost. Can the rag-tag group that gathers around Taran help him find Hen Wen and warn the good guys of impending danger?
  • Prince Gwydion, the older and true hero, still relies on Taran and his friends to help save the kingdom of Prydain from the evil Arawn and his henchman, the Horned King.
  • Eilonwy, girl child or young woman or enchantress, speaks in metaphors and similes and always keeps Taran humble with her sharp observations.
  • Fflewddur Fflam, the bard who used to be a king. His harp is magical in the music it produces and in its response to the exaggerated stories that Fflewddur tells.
  • Gurgi, beast-man or man-beast, is a brave though smelly companion whose constant talk of “crunchings and munchings” and “walkings and stalkings” and “seekings and peekings” adds a memorable bit of spice and humor to the story.
  • Doli is the irascible dwarf guide who can’t manage to turn himself invisible no matter how long and hard he holds his breath.
  • Dallben, who only enters the story at the beginning and at the end, is Taran’s wizard mentor, three hundred and seventy-nine years old and devoted to the work of meditation, “an occupation so exhausting he could accomplish it only by lying down and closing his eyes” for an hour and a half every morning and evening.

The characters and the setting are drawn from Welsh legend and mythology, just as Tolkien’s Middle Earth was taken somewhat from Norse and Finnish mythology. “Arawn, the dread Lord of Annuvin, comes from the Mabinogion, the classic collection of Welsh legends, though in Prydain he is considerably more villainous.” I think Alexander was also influenced by Tolkien, although he never says so, never even admits to having read LOTR. And the stories of Prydain are deeply influenced by the existentialism of Jean Paul Sartre; Lloyd Alexander was the first person to translate Sartre’s novel Nausea into English.

Actually, the plot is somewhat predictable: Young Taran goes on a journey with a mission to save the land of Prydain from the forces of evil. On the way he meets many obstacles and dangers but also finds unexpected helpers and friends.The evil is defeated, temporarily, but of course not conclusively, since there are four more books to come in the series. In some series this ending-not-ending would be irritating, but this story is more about the characters and their growth and the humor and the serious philosophical and even religious journey that each of them is taking. (But there is really no religion in these books. They are more existentialist, about finding out the depths of your own character and identity, but not in an annoying way?)

Anyway, I’m just now beginning my 1964 journey. I may find other books from that year that equal or even better Mr. Alexander’s first entry into the world of Prydain. But I would guess that The Book of Three will be among the top ten books of 1964, at the very least. Highly recommended.

“Most of us are called on to perform tasks far beyond what we can do. Our capabilities seldom match our aspirations, and we are often woefully unprepared. To this extent, we are all Assistant Pig-Keepers at heart.”

~Lloyd Alexander, Author’s Note at the beginning of The Book of Three

No Flying in the House by Betty Brock

I can’t remember where I heard about this book, but somewhere on a list of books about fairies. I was looking for books that would be good to suggest for Midsummer’s Eve, when the fairies come out. Even though the fairies in this book are not typical, they are magical, and I thought the story was a delight.

No Flying in the House begins, not with a fairy, but with a dog named Gloria, “a tiny white dog . . . only three inches high and three inches long.” Not only is Gloria tiny and intelligent: she can do three hundred and sixty-seven tricks. When Mrs. Vancourt realizes that Gloria is so very talented, this rich collector of curious animals and animal curios must add Gloria to her collection. But along with Gloria comes Annabel, the three year old for whom Gloria is responsible. It’s a package deal, and Mrs. Vancourt takes the package. And so the adventure begins.

It would be fascinating to read this story aloud to a six, seven, or eight year old and then listen to their narration or questions or responses. You could certainly attach a moral to the story: “be careful to whom you listen” or “having parents who love you is worth almost any sacrifice” or “no flying in the house.” However, I would refrain from commenting myself and just wait to see what the child or children think about the story. They might come up with much better ideas about his book than most adults could. Most adults, unfortunately, even the best of us, are a lot like Mrs. Vancourt and Mrs. Peach, her housekeeper, well-meaning but not very attentive or understanding of little girls.

The reading level and maturity level for this book is about K-3rd grade. It’s only 139 pages long, and the text and plot are well written, but simple enough for a young child to understand. I plan on sharing this one with the next primary age child who walks through the door of my library.

Along Came a Dog by Meindert DeJong

A brown, toeless hen and a servile, stray dog become friends as the dog becomes the guardian and protector of the injured hen. The animals in this book are real, hardly anthropomorphized at all. The dog follows his natural instinct to serve and obey and protect. The hen follows her natural bent to lay eggs and protect them from all danger. And the man in the story is slow to understand what is really happening in his barnyard right under his nose.

This story would appeal to any child who lives on a farm, especially if that farm has chickens. The chicken in the story are quite unintelligent, and yet the brown hen, at least is somewhat endearing and becomes the man’s pet as well as the dog’s “purpose and duty.” I just loved the idea that this story could possibly really happen. The animals think animal thoughts, not human ones, and although the man in the story talks to his animals, he is unlike Dr. Doolittle. The animals don’t talk back, and the man doesn’t really understand much of what drives them to act as they do.

This book is the fourth one I’ve read by Mr. DeJong about animals, pets. Shadrach the Rabbit, Candy and Wayfarer the dogs, and the unnamed dog and hen in this story all have something in common. They all act as animals do, no magical or talking pets in these books, and yet each of them has its own personality and its own affections. I’m more and more impressed by Meindert DeJong’s ability to see inside the mind of both children and animals and to write about them in a way that feels natural and wise and insightful.

Journey From Peppermint Street by Meindert DeJong

Mr. DeJong has a talent for getting inside the mind of a child and writing about the imaginations and embarrassments and fears and delights and misapprehensions and insights that run through a child’s thoughts. In Journey From Peppermint Street, eight year old Siebren, a little Dutch boy, goes on a journey with his grandfather, and he experiences all of the above, in addition to much adventure, as we readers walk along with him on a trip from Weirom, near the coast of Holland, to his great-aunt’s monastery home near an inland swamp full of frogs and fireflies and giant pike.

At first the story seems rather mundane. Siebren walks along behind Grandfather, and Siebren’s thoughts run hither and thither. Siebren talks a lot, but he also listens carefully, although not with full understanding. When Grandfather calls the miller with whom he has been feuding “handball of Satan”, Siebren latches onto the phrase and wonders whether he himself might be a “handball of Satan” since he sometimes listens to and acts on his fears and temptations rather than his good sense. (I googled the term “handball of Satan”, but nothing came up. It must be an insult peculiar to Grandfather alone.)

The story becomes more and more exciting, however, and filled with both real and imaginary dangers: a giant pike who can eat a whole frog in one gulp, the swamp muck that can suck up and drown the unwary traveller, an attack from a pack of village dogs, a frightened neighbor with a gun, a bottomless cistern that empties out to the river, a night alone in a dark house, and last but not least, a tornado. (I didn’t know that the Netherlands even experienced tornadoes; I halfway thought tornadoes were only a peril in Kansas and the rest of the midwestern United States.) Siebren must sort out his real fears and dangers from the imaginary ones, and he must learn how adults can be trusted and whether he himself is meant to be a handball of Satan or a believer in miracles.

Journey From Peppermint Street was the winner of the National Book Award for Children’s Literature the very first time that award was given in 1969. I’m on a quest to read all of Meindert DeJong’s books for children, and so far this one is one of his best.

Content considerations: Siebren gets a spanking for disobedience from his dad at the beginning of the story. There’s the whole “handball of Satan” question and discussion. And Siebren more than once lets his imagination and curiosity run away with him, stealing cookies, disobeying his grandfather and his great-aunt several times with mixed results. Sometimes his disobedience turn out okay, and other times it gets him into trouble, which is the way it worked for me when I was an imaginative and exploring child like Siebren.

Shadrach by Meindert DeJong

Davie, a six year old boy who lives in the Netherlands, is anxiously awaiting the coming of a little black rabbit, promised to him by his grandfather. Davie, who has been quite seriously ill, is now getting well, and his complete mind and focus is on the little black rabbit that he names Shadrach. The entire book is the story of Davie’s adventures with and anxieties about Shadrach, a pet whom Davie says is “the fairest of ten thousand to my soul” (from the hymn Lily of the Valley).

A boy’s will is the wind’s will,. And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts,” said Longfellow. And Davie’s thoughts are captivating in their innocence and youth. Davie sings his own songs in his mind. He worries over his rabbit’s health and habits, and over whether his father is angry with him (he’s not), and whether his mother will ever realize that he is no longer sickly and weak. Davie also becomes angry and defensive when his older brother Rem speaks unkindly about Shadrach or even mistreats the rabbit. And Davie is sometimes disobedient, even a little bit “wicked”, as he puts it, but his parents and grandparents, who live nearby, are patient and understanding with a little boy who is absolutely, passionately obsessed with his little pet rabbit.

Davie tells us over and over again, and the author shows us in the story, that Grandfather in particular as well as Davie’s parents and grandmother, are good people, kind and attuned to the foibles and failings of little people like Davie and his brother Rem. That’s why I was shocked when, near the end of the book, Rem says something rather cruel to Davie, and Grandfather slaps “Rem hard across the face. It smacked through the room.” The rest of the book was so gentle and sweet. I couldn’t believe that Grandfather would slap his grandson. I understand about child discipline being different in other places and other times, and Grandfather does apologize, but if I were reading this book aloud to my children, I think I would edit out the slap. It’s just too jarring and out of character for the grandfather.

Other than that one incident, and some small childlike incidents of naughtiness and disobedience and even fibbing, I thought this was a beautiful picture of a child who is in love with his pet rabbit. It might make your children ask for a pet rabbit of their own. “Black as sin,” of course.

I am really enjoying the books by Meindert De Jong that I’ve been reading. Have you read any books by this author? Which one should I read next?

Gather by Kenneth M. Cadow

Gather is the story of a boy and his dog. The young adult novel was a National Book Award finalist, and I would go so far as to say that it deserved the nomination. The writing, especially in the way it captures the voice and character and living situation of an impoverished young man from rural Vermont, is incisive and insightful. Nevertheless, I would also say that I cannot recommend this book to young people, and that it coarsens and distracts the reader particularly with its language, the very thing that also makes it a strong and stirring portrait of a boy struggling to overcome the issues that threaten to destroy him.

First, a short summary of the plot. Ian lives with his mother in a falling-apart house on a few acres of land that are all that are left of the many acres that his father’s family once owned. Ian’s father has deserted him and his mother, and Ian’s mother is unemployed and emotionally fragile. The two of them have no money and very little prospect of gaining any financial stability. They are poor, and they are hungry, and the last thing they need is the huge stray dog that has shown up on their property, also hungry. For Ian, school is a distraction and a waste of time. What he needs is a job and a way to take care of himself, his mother, and his new dog. When finally things become so desperate that Ian must run away and try to fend for himself in the wild, will the community gather to help him, or are he and the dog he named Gather truly isolated and alone?

So Ian is a boy who is rough, not just around the edges, in a rough space, with no time for the niceties of polite society. It makes sense that his language would reflect that, and it does. Ian narrates his own story in this novel, and he uses profane language frequently and explosively. The f-word that seems to be the expletive of choice these days among some groups of young people is, thankfully, not what Ian chooses to use. But the g-d’s and other words are sprinkled liberally throughout the book. On the final pages of the book, Ian even defends his frequent use of swear words. He says, “You want my voice, but you want my voice to be out there using somebody else’s rules, somebody else’s voice. Otherwise they ignore me. Isn’t that what you call censorship or oppression or whatever? Don’t you see how screwed up that is?”

Well, no, Ian (Mr. Cadow), it’s not censorship or oppression; it’s communication. If there is a way to write an authentic novel without all the profanity, then you will be able to communicate with people who otherwise won’t listen to you or perhaps won’t even think you worth listening to because of your ignorant language. I get why Ian (Mr. Cadow) uses all of the swear words, but it is distracting. And that’s too bad because Ian is worth listening to. As a character, he has some thoughtful things to say about education and the kind of education we give our children in the public schools. About drug addiction and the nuances that attend that condition. About nature and the land and our connection or lack of connection to it.

I would love to hand this book to older students, maybe sixteen and up, without the the swearing, (and to be honest, without the seemingly obligatory nod to LGBTQ+ propaganda in the last part of the novel), and to have them read it and discuss Ian and his predicament and his attitudes toward society and school and home and conservative values and other things. But I can’t, and that’s too bad.

Stateless by Elizabeth Wein

Having just re-read the Flambards novels by K.M. Peyton, set in the early days of flying and airplanes before, during , and after World War I, I was prepared and pleased to read another golden age of flying novel, this one set in 1937 Europe, just before World War 2 changed everything. Elizabeth Wein, author of the compelling and well written Code Name Verity, Rose Under Fire, and Black Dove White Raven (as well as a disastrously bad prequel to Code Name Verity), likes to write about female aviators, and airplanes, and flying as well as the politics and adventures surrounding the 1930’s and World War 2. In Stateless she has given us a spy and aviation thriller reminiscent of Helen MacInnes’ spy novels which is a high compliment because I am quite fond of MacInnes.

Stella North, Northie to her friends, has been chosen to represent Britain in the Circuit of Nations Olympics of the Air, Europe’s First Youth Air Race. She’s the only female flyer in the race with eleven other pilots from eleven different European countries. The race is supposed to be promoting peace and friendly relations between the peoples and nations of Europe, but with the Spanish Civil War still raging and the Nazis becoming more powerful and belligerent in Germany, peace seems somewhat elusive. And the press is no help at all, with reporters mobbing the contestants in every city they fly to and asking questions that suggest that the pilots themselves might resort to sabotaging each other’s planes to win the race. When one of the racers goes missing, and Northie has dangerous information about what happened to him, she and others begin to wonder if a murderer might be lurking among the contestants.

The themes of international and world peace and the difficulties of achieving it and of individual identity and nationality and transcending European borders are articulated, but left to simmer as the plot itself and figuring out whodunnit took up most of the space in my reading mind. I did notice that the characters were mostly multilingual and multinational with divided loyalties that were soon to tested by the outbreak of World War 2. The author in her Author’s Note at the end of the book speculates on what would happen to these young flyers in just a couple of years after 1937, but we’ll never know unless Ms. Wein decides to write a sequel.

Well plotted and exciting, this novel falls just short of brilliant. There’s the problem of why don’t Stella and the charming but volatile Tony inform the authorities of their suspicions and of what they have actually witnessed. Of course, for the sake of the story, the authorities can’t just wrap everything up, call off the race, and send everyone home. So Northie and her friends must find reasons not to tell what they know: they don’t trust anyone else. No one would believe them. They don’t have enough proof. Nonsense. If I saw what Stella saw and knew what she knew, I’d be screaming bloody murder (literally, murder!) until someone somewhere listened and believed me and did something. At least, I think I would. Anyway, if you just go with it, it’s a good story.

And it’s clean. There are one or two brief kisses, and some faked necking (standing close and pretending to kiss) while the protagonists are hiding from the Gestapo. No bad language that I recall, except for one exclamation using the word “bloody” by a British character, a word which I understand carries more weight with the Brits. There is violence, but it’s not terribly graphic. All in all, it’s a book I would be happy to recommend to older teenage and adult readers.

Hurry Home, Candy by Meindert De Jong

It’s a hard-knock life for Candy, a small terrier whose misfortunes multiply throughout this story, in which the dog does not die, but has many near-death experiences. Abused as a puppy, then lost, abandoned, and hungry as a stray, Candy loses his name, his owners, and his home several times over. If stories of animals being mistreated, neglected, and injured make you or your child sad or angry or both, this book is not for you.

Nevertheless, the book reminded me of The Incredible Journey, our book club book for this month, and it does have a redemptive and hopeful ending. I was also reminded of the story of the prodigal son and the Prodigal Father who welcomed him home. The writing is especially luminous and life-giving on the last few pages of the book (spoiler warning for those who want to read without knowing the ending):

“The little dog stood up; the little dog had started to obey. And in a moment he would walk across the open yard and through an open door. And then he would be in. Then he would not merely have a pan of food, he’d have a home, he’d have a name, he’d have a love for a great, good man. A love for a man that would grow and grow in a great, good life with the man. A love so huge, and so complete and so eternal, the little dog would hardly be able to encompass it in his one little timid heart.”

Meindert DeJong was a Dutchman who emigrated to the United States to the United States with his family as a boy and began writing children’s books at the suggestion of a librarian. (Yay, librarians!) His books won a record four Newbery honors (Shadrach; Hurry Home, Candy; The House of Sixty Fathers; Along Came a Dog) and one Newbery Medal (The Wheel on the School), and yet another book, Journey From Peppermint Street, won the National Book Award for Children’s Literature in 1969. The illustrations in Hurry Home, Candy are by Maurice Sendak.

One more fair warning: Candy must weather hunger, loneliness, neglect, abandonment, mistreatment, misunderstanding, attack by a pack of wild dogs, gun violence, injury, and disappointment to get to that happy ending. This Newbery Honor book from 1953 is worth reading, but not for the faint or tender of heart.