Almost a Problem Novel, Almost a Horror Story

Last Sunday night I was watching television when I heard a tremendous CRASH. I raced to the window to see if someone had hit a car outside, then looked around inside thinking that maybe a picture had fallen off the wall. Two nights later I heard a loud BANG. It sounded like someone had hit the window with a snowball, but I could see no one outside. Again, I poked around the house, even checking inside the refrigerator to see if a can of pop had exploded -- but nothing turned up to explain the loud noise. So I thought what any other calm, rational, intelligent adult would think: maybe it's a poltergeist!

Like many kids, I grew up reading lots of supernatural stories filled with screaming ghosts, spell-casting witches, and creepy moonlit seances...yet the horror story that continues to haunt me is one of the most subtle -- an enigimatic novel that blends unexplained supernatural activity with a convincing story of family dynamics and personal isolation. Although published as a young adult novel, I discovered THE ALMOST YEAR by Florence Engel Randall in the adult section of our local public library. Back then, kids couldn't check out adult books unless the title on the back pocket had a minus sign in front it. Now I find that odd. Why not a nice inclusive plus sign, indicating that the book was for adults plus younger readers, instead of a demeaning minus symbol that seemed to say the book was something less than an adult book? But back then I didn't think of such things. I was just glad to see the typing on the pocket said: "Randall, F. --Almost Year. c.1" and know that I could check it out.

With or without a minus sign, THE ALMOST YEAR turned out to be a captivating novel about a fifteen-year-old African American girl sent to spend a school year (an "almost year" consisting of fall, winter, and spring) with a white, upperclass family on Long Island while her aunt-guardian takes a job in another state. Angry and isolated, the teenager's arrival at the Mallory home is met by a shower of stones hitting the roof of the car and the driveway. Racist neighbors protesting her arrival? A trick being played by the Mallory children? Neither. During the course of this "almost year," stones pelt the house, doorbells mysteriously ring, food flies off dinner plates, and the grandfather clock chimes thirteen times. The unexplained activity climaxes one winter night when the family is snowbound. (Nothing good ever happens in a snowstorm; see my previous blog entry for details.) During this night, footsteps and pounding resound from the attic bedroom where the young narrator sleeps. She believes she is responsible for this turmoil, but cannot control it.

Back when SOUNDER was published in 1969, some readers were offended that the African American protagonist went unnamed. THE ALMOST YEAR is another novel in which a black protagonist is never named, though this literary device does play up the character's isolation and could even be a nod to the most famous gothic novel of all, REBECCA by Daphne DuMaurier. Certainly this book echoes DuMaurier's classic in its depiction of an underprivileged outsider feeling overwhelmed and somewhat diminished by her new home especially because,in this case, the protagonist believes (perhaps incorrectly) that the Mallorys are operating out of some kind of noblesse oblige instead of kindness.

In THE ALMOST YEAR, Florence Engel Randall created the perfect marriage of family "problem story" and literary horror novel. Though the scenes of crashing rocks and tumbling stuffed animals will raise goosebumps, this is ultimately a story about self-discovery, individual growth, and the need for reaching out. The protagonist's rage -- so strong that it probably could cause psychic phenomena -- eventually quiets as she matures. She learns to accept the well-meaning but flawed members of the Mallory family because she has learned to understand herself.

By 2008 standards, THE ALMOST YEAR may be a bit dated in terms of language ("groovy") and its presentation of race relations, but the emotional lives of these characters still ring true and the scenes of supernatural upheaval continue to pack a subtle but strong punch.

THE ALMOST YEAR
Written by Florence Engel Randall
Atheneum, 1971


Why the book may be collectable:

As an example of literary horror novels for young people.

As an example of how racial issues were tackled in children's books in the post-Civil Rights era.

May be of interest to collectors of African American stories and supernatural stories.

May also be of interest to those who have read the author's most well-known children's book (later a movie), THE WATCHER IN THE WOODS.


First edition points:

Bound in blue cloth with gold lettering. The date "1971" is on the title page and "First edition" is written on the verso.


Difficulty in finding first editions:

Most seem to have been swallowed up by the library market, as the majority of copies for sale are "ex-lib." An occasional non-library copy turns up, usually selling for about $50.

Snowy Days, Moonstruck Nights

Tonight a sudden, fierce snowstorm turned my usual half-hour commute into a two-hour white knuckle nightmare. As I inched my way home I began to think of all the snowy, wintertime books that have received the Caldecott Medal, starting with those back-to-back winners WHITE SNOW, BRIGHT SNOW and THE BIG SNOW, and including THE SNOWY DAY by Ezra Jack Keats, THE POLAR EXPRESS, OWL MOON, and SNOWFLAKE BENTLEY. Intermediate and young adult novels with snowy settings are usually much darker in tone than those pleasant picture book idylls. Harry Mazer's SNOWBOUND features two teenagers trying to survive a winter car wreck. Emma Smith's NO WAY OF TELLING has a girl and her grandmother facing-off with a menacing stranger during a snowstorm. In the long out-of-print but still memorable GAME OF TRUTH by Edith Maxell, a group of blizzard-bound young adults play a dangerous psychological game.

Two wintry books especially linger in my memory, perhaps because I started off not liking them, then later changed my mind.
I'll admit that the first time I read Gary Paulsen’s novel DOGSONG I was not impressed.

Even though it came with great credentials (it was a 1986 Newbery Honor Book), I did not feel particularly involved with this story of a modern Eskimo boy who makes a journey of self-discovery while preparing for and competing in a sled dog race. The novel seemed too introspective, too laden with native spirituality. I remember setting the book aside and walking outside. I looked down at the snow piled up against the fence and then folded my arms across my chest to fend off the cold.

Then I realized that I wasn’t looking at snow -- I was looking at a bed of white flowers. And it wasn’t cold outside -- it was a hot afternoon in June.

Even though I thought I wasn’t enjoying DOGSONG, Paulsen’s atmospheric writing had cast such a strong spell that, even as I stepped into an eighty-degree afternoon, I somehow remained on that frozen tundra with young Russel Suskitt and his dogs. That moment made me reevaluate both DOGSONG and the power of Paulsen’s prose -- and I came away realizing this author really was something special.

I had a very similar experience a year or two later when I read WINTERBOUND by Margery Bianco. Like DOGSONG, this is another snowy story which was named a Newbery Honor Book. Published in 1936 and illustrated by Kate Seredy, who obviously had a lot of free time on her hands after writing THE GOOD MASTER and designing her model of a Hungarian ranch (see earlier blog entry “The Good Master! Sweet Ladies!”), this story of four siblings fending for themselves in rural Connecticut also didn’t grab me. The characters seemed distant, the focus diffuse. One evening I was reading the book and came across a scene in which the youngest son goes fox-hunting at night and becomes moonstruck. I had never heard of this phenomenon before. I always assumed that “moonstruck” was just an expression like “lovestruck” -- not a real physical sensation which makes one feel “dizzy and strange” as Martin does in the novel. A few minutes after reading about this incident, I went out to mail a letter. As I walked to the post office, I happened to glance up at the clouds traversing the moon...then stood transfixed. The next thing I knew, I was grabbing for the nearby iron fence feeling so “dizzy and strange” that I didn’t think my legs could hold me up. Once again, the subtle influence of this novel -- a book I thought I didn't like -- had gotten under my skin and taken me someplace unexpected. And I had to reappraise Bianco's novel and realize it was much more effective and powerful than I originally thought. Incidentally, when I took the book off my shelves tonight to look up this scene, I initially began searching for the “chapter” about Martin becoming moonstruck and was surprised the incident didn’t fill an entire chapter...didn’t even fill an entire page...but was related in just a few lines. Yet Bianco had described this event so eloquently it seemed in my memory to have lasted pages and pages.

Reading both DOGSONG and WINTERBOUND taught me not to make snap literary judgments. Sometimes a book can cast a quiet, stealthy spell you won’t discover until you find yourself trembling with cold on a June afternoon or staring into the sky, hypnotized by the moon.


DOGSONG
Written by Gary Paulsen
Published by Bradbury Press, 1985

Why the book is collectable:

It was Paulsen’s breakthrough book, which was followed by HATCHET and dozens of other major novels.

It was a Newbery Honor Book.

Will be sought by those who collect books on Eskimos, sled dog racing, and native traditions.

First edition points:

Bound in red fabric and cardboard cover. Price of $11.95 on front flap. Copyright 1985 and print key 5 4 3 2 1 on copyright page.

Difficulty in finding first editions:

Fairly difficult to find. In fact, none are currently listed for sale on ABEbooks. I would imagine a first edition in very good condition could run $75-$150 or more, but that’s just a guess.


WINTERBOUND
Written by Margery Bianco
Decorations by Kate Seredy
Viking, 1936

Why the book is collectable:

It was a Newbery Honor Book.

Will be sought by those who collect books by Bianco or the illustrated works of Kate Seredy.

Might be considered an early feminist book, especially with regard to sister Garry who, like many of the older girls and women in Bianco’s young adult novels, does not represent typically female stereotypes of the era.

First edition points:

Bound in blue cloth with evocatively illustrated endpaper. My copy is price clipped but the number 1215 is at the bottom of the front flap. The date MCMXXXVI is on the title page with “First published October 1936” on the verso.

Difficulty in finding first editions:

Though nearly fifty years older than DOGSONG, this novel remains a fairly easy and inexpensive “find,” with copies available for $20-$50.

Hooked on Books

Sometimes on a summer Saturday, my father and my uncle would take us fishing at Bell River. Whether it was the first trip of the season, the temperature so chilly we had to wear hooded sweatshirts -- or a midsummer trip under a blazing hot sun, the scent of 6-12 insect-repellent heavy in the air -- or the last outing of the season with autumn leaves falling from the trees and floating across the water, certain things remained constant.

There was the anticipation as we drove into the country on dirt roads, discussing how many fish we'd catch -- though often we'd only catch little ones and toss them all back, returning home empty-handed and thinking, "Better luck next time!"

Standing on the shore, there were conversations about fish we'd seen, or thought we'd seen...maybe hiding behind that rock halfway across the water. We knew they just HAD to be there!

Then, on the way home, always: tales of the "ones that got away."

Time passed, things changed. My uncle died. I had a paper route that kept me busy Saturday mornings and couldn't go fishing anymore.

Instead I visited used bookstores -- and it dawns on me now that the experience isn't that different from fishing.

As I drive to the bookstore, I'm filled with anticipation over what I may find. I'll pull books off the shelf, only to discover they're old library copies or have crayon scribbling on the pages, and I'll toss them back. Often I leave the store empty-handed and thinking "Better luck next time!"

Yet when I'm standing in the store, there are always thoughts of books I've never seen, books I've only heard about, that may be tucked away on some broken shelf or hidden in some dark corner. They just HAVE to be somewhere! I'm talking about books like JUMPING-OFF PLACE by Marion Hurd McNeely and NEW LAND by Sarah Schmidt. Isn't there a copy of INVINCIBLE LOUISA in a dustjacket somewhere in this world? And has anyone ever even SEEN the book WINDY HILL by Cornelia Meigs?

Like any good fisher of books, I have my own stories of "those that got away." The very first day I discovered online bookselling I found first editions of THE MOVED-OUTERS by Florence Crannell Means and THE DARK STAR OF ITZA by Alida Malkus. I only had enough money for one and purchased MOVED-OUTERS. I loved the book, but made a bad decision in choosing it. Copies of MOVED-OUTERS always seem to be available, but I've never again seen a copy of DARK STAR OF ITZA for sale. Then there was the time I found a copy of WHERE THE LILIES BLOOM by Vera and Bill Cleaver, inscribed by the authors to the book's editor Dorothy Briley. I placed the order and waited and waited and waited...and finally contacted the seller to discover it had been sold to someone else. A signed copy of MRS. FRISBY AND THE RATS OF NIMH by Robert C. O'Brien turned up on eBay. How rare are signed copies of this book? My understanding is that even the author's daughter has never seen one. But when I logged on to eBay, my computer froze, and the auction ended while I was trying to reboot. Finally, there was a first edition of JOHNNY TREMAIN inscribed by author Esther Forbes to Clara Ford or, as I thought of her, "our" Clara Ford, since Clara was married to Henry Ford and I'm from Detroit. Unfortunately, the book was $100 and I didn't have the money. I saved up to buy it and, just when I almost had enough, the book was sold to someone else. Apparently that "someone else" was another book dealer, because several weeks later he listed the exact same copy of the book online for $200. So I had to start saving again, and right when I almost had enough money, the book was again sold. I keep expecting to see it listed online again someday...at $300, $400, $500...or more. And you know what will happen: I'll save up for it and, as soon as I get the money saved, someone will buy it out from under me.

Whether fishing for rock bass, or fishing for books, we all dream about the "perfect catch" and never stop wondering about "the ones that got away."