This book is one of those rare cases that actually can be judged by its cover. The awkward yet still graceful beauty, the simplicity, rich tones and utter honesty of the cover image encapsulates this work. The innocence of the boys mirrors the sad bewilderment of the the characters in this novel, caught up as they are in forces that neither know them nor care for them, and yet have come to have power over their lives and land. But theirs is not the innocence of children, the innocence of forgetfulness or ignorance, these are people are possessed of the understanding that they need for their world, wisdom that makes them good and welcome among their people, but they cannot fathom the ruthlessness, the folly, the baseness of their invaders, and so they are always unmatched. This is the kind of story that makes you weep quietly and then pause for a moment at the end to acknowledge the struggle, the nobility, the dogged decency of the characters, and of their creator.
My sister used to live near where the story takes place, so I always meant to read it, but it didn't come my way till about ten or fifteen years ago when I found it at Balfour's on College Street in Little Italy. It was reduced from five to three dollars, and is one of the old school Penguin paperbacks that you could fit in one hand. I miss them.
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