Publisher's Hardcover ©2007 | -- |
Automobile travel. Juvenile fiction.
Family. Juvenile fiction.
Epilepsy. Juvenile fiction.
Racially mixed people. Juvenile fiction.
Orphans. Juvenile fiction.
Death. Juvenile fiction.
Automobile travel. Fiction.
Family. Fiction.
Epilepsy. Fiction.
Racially mixed people. Fiction.
Orphans. Fiction.
Death. Fiction.
Gr 9 Up-This short novel, written in free verse, is a fast-paced and compelling read with some surprising plot twists. Zane Guesswind, 17, has had his share of loss. His Wyandot Indian father ran off and died when Zane was four. His schizophrenic mother finally succeeded in killing herself when he was 15, leaving him and his older brother with their racist grandfather. Prone to seizures, Zane is compelled to write his feelings on his bedroom walls. He fondly remembers Harold in Harold and the Purple Crayon, and thinks that he can control events by writing them on the walls and then rubbing them out. The morning after he erases his grandfather's name from his ceiling, Zane finds the old man dead. Feeling responsible, he steals his late father's 1969 Plymouth Barracuda and his brother's license and credit card. Armed with a six-pack of Mountain Dew, a pack of Sharpies, and a loaded flintlock pistol (another family heirloom), he takes off from Maryland for Zanesville, OH, in order to kill himself at his mother's grave site. Along the way he picks up a girl named Libba. She and the manifestations of his ancestors he meets on his road trip show him his family's history and how he fits into it. Wolf has taken real places and historical figures and events and woven them into a contemporary novel. Despite Zane's misguided actions, he's a typical teen who is smart, sensitive, and a little weird, and many readers will see themselves in him.-Sharon Rawlins, NJ Library for the Blind and Handicapped, Trenton Copyright 2007 Reed Business Information.
ALA Booklist (Mon Oct 01 00:00:00 CDT 2007)At first this seems to be just another grim story. Thinking he has killed his grandfather, 17-year-old Zane Guesswind drives to his mother's grave, where he intends to kill himself using the same antique flintlock pistol his mother used to end her life. Readers will need to fasten their seat belts, however, as this genre-blending wild ride defies easy categorizing. Told in dramatic free verse, Zane's journey is part history, part magical realism, and all heart-pounding suspense. Along the way, Zane is visited by dead relatives who help him trace his family's history and better understand himself. These visits, in prose chapters, are sometimes comedic (Zane's father appears in a McDonald's drive-up window), and sometimes relate Zanesville history. This unusual mix usually works, although an incident with Zane's brother late in the book pushes coincidence into contrivance. Zane has epilepsy and hypergraphia, and his self-mocking voice is immediate and poignant. Like the previous New Found Land (2004), this book is for an adventurous reader willing to try something different.
Kirkus Reviews<p>Zane Guesswind has a tough life: a family riven by mental illness, substance abuse and suicide, plus his own epilepsy and grief. To exorcise his demons, Zane writes obsessively with permanent markers on his bedroom walls and later on the dashboard of the 1969 Barracuda he commandeers and drives to Zanesville, Ohio. There he plans to shoot himself at his mother's graveside with the heirloom pistol she used to kill herself. En route, he meets the intriguing Libba and assorted characters who each hold a piece of the puzzle that is Zane. Welding the coming-of-age road trip to the verse novel energizes and enlivens both. Assured rhythm and taut pacing, haunting characters and a few surprises make this a good introduction to the genre. While drawing from historical characters and events, Zane's story is mainly about coming to terms with family, the inheritance we cannot refuse. Not all questions are answered at the end, but with Zane as the caustic but compelling tour guide, the trip is well worth making. Author's note and extensive bibliography included. (Fiction. YA)</p>
Voice of Youth AdvocatesZane Guesswind's father left when he was very young. His schizophrenic mother committed suicide several years later, leaving Zane with his older brother Zach and their emotionally distant grandfather. Zane's life is not easy. In addition to being prone to seizures, he feels somehow responsible for the death of his mother. The only thing that seems to help is his compulsion to cover any available surface with writing. The last straw falls when Zane finds his grandfather dead in a chair. He steals Zach's cherished 1969 Plymouth Barracuda, and along with an heirloom Revolutionary War pistol and a set of Sharpies, sets off from Baltimore for Zanesville, Ohio, to kill himself at his mother's grave. Along the way he is visited by the spirits of his parents and ancestors, each of whom fills him in on a piece of his family history. At the end of his journey, Zane is finally able to forgive himself and accept his dysfunctional yet wonderful family. Wolf packs an intense punch with this remarkable novel. He explores such issues as suicide, race relations, and mental illness with compassion and humor. Wolf's poetic, lyrical style places the reader in the "Cuda" with Zane as he passes each mile marker toward self-realization. This novel manages to be suspenseful, funny, and deeply moving at the same time. It could even be considered a ghost story, depending on whether the reader thinks Zane's otherworldly visitors are real or imagined, although in the end it does not matter.-Dotsy Harland.
School Library Journal
Wilson's High School Catalog
ALA Booklist (Mon Oct 01 00:00:00 CDT 2007)
Kirkus Reviews
Voice of Youth Advocates
334 Miles to Zanesville
When I die
I want to come back
as a 1969 Plymouth Barracuda
midnight blue with black-tape accents,
twin dummy hood scoops,
and a 440 big-block engine
stuffed between the fenders.
An engine so big they had to install it
with a shoehorn and a hammer.
I’ve got a six-pack of Mountain Dew,
a book bag filled with Pop-Tarts, a jumbo pack
of Sharpies, a change of socks,
fifty dollars cash, a credit card in my wallet,
and a loaded gun in the trunk.
No rearview mirror. And no more worries.
It’s just over three hundred miles to Zanesville, Ohio.
A straight shot.
Gotta make good time.
The sun’s already up.
By now they’ve probably
found the old man’s body.
I-70 WEST: MILE MARKER 80
332 Miles to Zanesville
My mother used to read me this book,
HAROLD AND THE PURPLE CRAYON.
Harold was a little kid who made
anything happen just by drawing it.
He could draw a horizon, or a window,
or a door, or stairs, or stars or a boat
or a spaceship. No trouble existed
that Harold couldn’t fix.
A few years later
Mom kept getting sicker, so Grandpa moved
in with us for good. That’s when I started
writing on my bedroom walls.
Harold had a purple crayon. I’ve got Sharpies --
medium-tip mostly,
the occasional king size for big ideas.
I figured I could make everything work out
if I just wrote on my walls. If I just wrote
the right phrase the right number of times
or in the right color.
Give my mother back her mind.
Calm the demons in her head.
Leave the darkness far behind.
If need be, take me instead.
My Wyandot shaman father was not
around to give me spiritual guidance.
So I created my own heaven, Zane-atopia,
and I drew a picture of it on my ceiling.
Zane-atopia existed at the top of
Mount Guesswind, and my life was the climb.
The earthly world was a dragon’s tail
wrapped around the mountain’s base. The bad times
were dark clouds. The good times a rainbow.
A bright flash of light shone at the tip-top point
of the mountain (where good people went
to live with God) and inside the light was my mom
and my brother, Zach, and Stanley (he’s my dad),
and even the old man.
All of this I drew on the ceiling
until my arms were like lead pipes
and my neck was a train wreck.
But it felt good in my stomach.
Like Michelangelo must have felt
painting the Sistine Chapel. Like reaching
up to touch God’s fingertip.
Now my walls are whispering ten miles back.
I’ll never draw on them or write on them again.
But I can’t help looking at the Barracuda’s dash:
an empty space waiting to be filled.
These Sharpies are dependable.
The only thing I can count on.
They’ll write on just about anything.
The thought of it
makes my fingertips itch.
I-70 WEST: MILE MARKER 79
331 Miles to Zanesville
I never did belong in Baltimore.
It hit me like the voice of God
a few weeks ago, with summer break
gasping to an end:
You don’t belong, Zane.
You don’t belong.
I wrote it on my walls all day.
Don’t belong. Don’t belong. Don’t belong.
Till I got fed up and Googled myself.
And there it was, just a couple pages in:
"Zanesville, Ohio -- population 25,586.
Home of the world’s only Y Bridge."
A bridge where three roads intersect!
A town named after me
with a bridge that asks, Why, why, why?
I drew the bridge. I drew myself in its center.
And I gave it a caption. I inked it into my walls.
Zane belongs in Zanesville.
Zanesville is the place for Zane.
Why had I not thought of it before?
Zanesville is the town where Mom is buried.
I may as well be
Excerpted from Zane's Trace by Allan Wolf
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.
A coming-of-age road story with a supernatural twist — and a compulsively readable poetic novel about identity and belonging.
Zane Guesswind has just killed his grandfather, or so he believes. So he steals the 1969 Plymouth Barracuda his long-gone father left behind and takes off on a manic trip to his mother’s grave to kill himself. Armed with a six-pack of Mountain Dew, a jumbo pack of Sharpies (for scribbling all over the dashboard), and a loaded gun in the trunk, he’s headed to Zanesville, Ohio, with no rearview mirror and no more worries. On the way, he meets Libba, a young hitchhiker who shares his destination, and other mystic and mysterious characters. With each encounter, and every mile marker he passes, Zane gets farther from the life he knows — but closer to figuring out who he really is.