Paperback ©2006 | -- |
Jesus Christ. Nativity. Fiction.
Princesses. Fiction.
Brothers and sisters. Fiction.
Dreams. Fiction.
Zoroastrianism. Fiction.
Iran. History. To 640. Juvenile fiction.
Iran. History. To 640. Fiction.
In a richly imagined novel, Fletcher dovetails her own characters and plot with an utterly familiar New Testament story. Mitra comes from Persian royalty, but most of her family is dead. Now disguised as a boy, she steals food and shelters in burial caves with her younger brother, Babak. Political enemies of their father pursue them, as does the magus Melchior, who has heard of Babak's gift for dreaming others' dreams. The complications facing a pubescent girl living as a boy and the rhythms of desert life form one intriguing dimension to the novel; another is the journey set in motion when Babak dreams of a portentous star, and the siblings follow Melchior and his two magi companions as they seek the king it represents. Teens will recognize their own longings in proud, headstrong, and passionate Mitra; steer slightly older readers to Anne Provost's In the Shadow of the Ark (2004), another novel about a resilient young woman swept along by biblical events.
Horn BookFourteen-year-old thief Mitra and her brother, Babak, join the magus Melchior's caravan bound for Bethlehem, where a child has been born in a stable. Fletcher keeps the scale human, sticking to Mitra's point of view. Written in a natural first-person voice, this well-shaped historical novel brings a new perspective to an ancient story.
Kirkus ReviewsFletcher's inward-looking tale recreates the arduous journey of the Three Wise Men, as seen by a teenager in double disguise. After three years of hiding from the Persian king's soldiers by pretending to be both a boy and a beggar, Mitra, child of a rebellious noble, is swept up by the Magi along with her little brother Babak, who has begun to experience dreams that actually become reality. Impelled by the strange triple conjunction of two planets in the sky, the priests journey across the harsh desert toward distant Jerusalem. On the way, Mitra's dream of being restored to her previous lofty state runs into one snag after another as Babak's health begins to fail, the hunt for her and her brother comes closer and her efforts to hide her sex are complicated by new, strange feelings for two young men she encounters. Fletcher focuses more on emotional than physical landscapes, pushing the historical setting well into the background; Mitra gets nary a glimpse of the baby Jesus, and though she's able to give advance warning of the slaughter of the innocents, that too is left offstage. Still, by the end she has given over her childhood, along with its fantasies, and found a true home. Absorbing. (author's essay) (Fiction. YA)
Publishers Weekly (Fri Oct 06 00:00:00 CDT 2023)This richly imagined novel invents a backstory for the famous Nativity tale of the three wise men—Melchior, Balthazaar and Gaspar—who follow a star in search of the prophesied king. Fletcher (<EMPHASIS TYPE=""ITALIC"">Shadow Spinner) centers the story on Mitra, a Persian teenager, and her young brother, the fragile, kindhearted Babak. The pair was forced to flee after their father's unsuccessful coup attempt against the reigning monarch, Phraates. Mitra successfully disguises herself as a boy and a beggar—until Babak unwittingly reveals his ability to foretell the future through his dreams. His prophetic visions attract unwanted attention, most perilously from Melchior, an out-of-favor Magus who kidnaps the boy so Babak can dream exclusively for him, despite obvious risks to the boy's health. (He grows weaker with every dream.) There's a bit too much going on—two romances for Mitra, multiple escapes and recaptures, squabbling Magi—and the pace occasionally advances as languidly as a camel journey from Persia to Bethlehem. But Mitra is feisty and honorable, and Fletcher, with lush and often poetic language, somehow ties her many strands together, drawing a subtle parallel between the humble circumstances of the unnamed baby's birth and the empathetic suffering of Babak, a prince in exile. Ages 12-up. <EMPHASIS TYPE=""ITALIC"">(Sept.)
School Library JournalGr 7 Up-Mitra and her younger brother, Babak, are refugees in ancient Persia, living in a labyrinth of caves, scraping by with the food they can steal in the nearby marketplace. Disguised as a boy for safety and mobility, Mitra dreams of returning to her former life of opulence before her father's plot against a despotic king scattered the family. When it is discovered that Babak possesses the ability of prophetic dreaming, he comes to the attention of a local magus, Melchior, who takes the children under his protection as he travels westward, following signs in the stars. Joined by two more scholars, each with his own gifts, the caravan continues on a harrowing journey that leads them into the Roman territories, and eventually to the tiny village of Bethlehem. While the focus is always on Mitra, readers experience a growing awareness of who these three wise men actually are and what portentous events Babak is dreaming for them. Fletcher explains in detailed author's notes her long-standing fascination with the story of the Magi and provides insight into the research process. A fine weaver of historical fiction, she creates a fully realized world for her characters and builds a plot full of suspense and anguish. Mitra and Babak's plight is that of any children caught between warring factions. Their journey is one of seeking a place of safety to call home, and, for Mitra, it is a coming-of-age quest that leaves her changed forever.-Connie C. Rockman, Stratford Library Association, CT Copyright 2006 Reed Business Information.
Voice of Youth AdvocatesSet in the days when the Magi were gathering to follow the star across the Great Desert, this novel follows the sometimes-perilous adventures of a teenage girl, Mitra, and her five-year-old brother, Babak. Born into a noble house in Persia, these children are all that is left of a family that was once powerful and happy. Mitra wants to be returned to the status she once enjoyed. For now, she and her brother must scrape by as best they can by stealing food while at the same time hiding from the king's men, who are trying to hunt them down and kill them. When Mitra discovers that Babak has a gift for dreaming other people's futures by sleeping with a piece of their clothing, she begins to sell his dreams. The Magus Melchoir has stopped in their town, hears of the boy's gift, and arranges for the boy to be stolen and delivered to him. Mitra chases down and reluctantly joins the entourage. Thus begins their western trek that ends, of course, in Bethlehem. Although the center of the story focuses on Mitra and Babak, the power of Babak's dreams drives the forward motion of the caravan. Each Magus has Babak dream for him, and the dreams are as huge as the night sky, with stars running their course from the beginning to the end of time. The characters are vivid and whole, the plot compelling, and the setting vast. The novel might be confusing to non-Christian readers unfamiliar with the story of the Magi.-Leslie Carter.
ALA Booklist
ALA/YALSA Best Book For Young Adults
Horn Book
Kirkus Reviews
National Council For Social Studies Notable Children's Trade
Publishers Weekly (Fri Oct 06 00:00:00 CDT 2023)
School Library Journal
Voice of Youth Advocates
Wilson's High School Catalog
Wilson's Junior High Catalog
Babak's Dream
When we lived in the City of the Dead, my brother dreamed mostly of food. Banquets he would have there, curled up on the stone floor among the ossuaries -- melons and olives, chickpeas and dates, lentils and bread. Even noble folks' food was not too fine for his dreams -- honeyed lemon peel and almonds, saffron-roasted flesh of lamb.
How did he know of such food, I used to wonder. Was it seeing it in the marketplace? Or does one's true nature bubble up and show itself in dreams? We'd ceased eating as nobles do three years before, when Babak was scarcely two.
Still, this dream food seemed to satisfy him someway. He did not wake weak and peevish with hunger, as I did. There was a kind of glow upon him while the aftertaste of nocturnal feasts suffused his face with joy.
"Sister!" he would say to me. "Such a dream I had. Roasted chickpeas! I ate till I nearly burst! And oranges, all peeled for me and sprinkled with leaves of mint. And warm rounds of bread with sesame seeds!"
But this talk of feasting only made me hungrier, crankier. "Move your feet, Babak," I would snap at last. I would drag him through the honeycombed cave passageways and out toward the gates of Rhagae.
"You can't eat dreams," I would say.
But I was wrong about that. Dreams can feed you, can send you on journeys to places beyond imagining.
I know this, because it happened to us.
"This way, Babak! Come!"
I snatched his hand and pulled him along the street as he veered toward a broken-winged pigeon that foundered in the dust, then yanked him away from some sobbing beggar woman he was drawn to, drying his tears, because of course he must cry too.
"She's nothing to you, Babak. Remember who you are!" We arrived at the head of the caravan as the first horseman passed the carpet weaver's market. "Look for Suren," I said, though now Babak had no need of instruction. His eyes, fastened on the passing travelers, were hungry with hope.
The swaying tassels, tinkling bells, and bright-woven saddlebags lent the caravan a festive air. Seemed to presage a celebration. A songbird trilled from its gilded cage, and a net filled with cooking pots clanked merrily. A camel-riding musician struck up a tune on a double-pipe; another shook a tambourine, filling the air with its gay, rhythmic jingle. Though I tried to fend it off, I too felt hope seeping into the chambers of my heart. I breathed it in with the dust that bloomed up from the animals' feet, with the smells of sweat, dung, and spices. A Magus, resplendent in his white cloak and tall cap, rode by astride a magnificent stallion. A lesser priest came behind, swinging a silver thurible that perfumed the air with smoke; another bore aloft the coals of the sacred fire in a brazier of hammered copper. I studied the others' faces as they passed -- the horse-archers; the attendants and servants; the camel drovers and donkey drovers; the musicians and entertainers; the pilgrims and merchants and grooms. I willed our brother Suren to be among them, to have attached himself to this caravan and returned to us.
But the last of the travelers passed, and no Suren.
I was reaching for Babak's hand to lead him away -- not wanting to look at him, not wanting to see what was gone from his eyes -- when I noticed a jostling up ahead, by the fruit seller's market. There was shouting, and cursing, and an exchange of blows -- a circumstance made in heaven for us. "Move your feet, Babak!" I said. In a trice I had slipped three pomegranates beneath the folds of my tunic and stripped a sack of dates from a fair-haired Scythian nomad with blue tattoos. The fracas suddenly veered in our direction; the Scythian stumbled, fell, flattened Babak beneath him.
It was then, I now realize -- when Babak was pinned beneath the Scythian, when I was kicking the Scythian's back to get him to move -- that the man's fur cap fell off. Babak must have tucked it into his sash.
That night, back in the City of the Dead, Babak pillowed his head on lynx fur and dreamed -- not of food, but of a birth. A happy occasion. A boy. He recognized the Scythian in the dream. Someone bringing him the baby, settling it in his arms. Someone saying, "Father." Babak dreamed the dream, he told me, as if the Scythian himself were dreaming it.
By chance, we caught sight of the man near the rope makers' market the next day and, before I could stop him, Babak sang out, "A boy! It will be a boy! A healthy boy!"
"Hsst!" I said, and snatched up Babak's hand, and ducked behind a donkey, behind a spice merchant, behind a crumbling wall, and tried to lose ourselves in the crowd before the Scythian could catch us.
But he did.
As it happened, the Scythian didn't recognize Babak from the day before. As it happened, the stolen cap and dates were the last things on his mind. As it happened, he was hoping for tidings -- though not from a marketplace waif.
As it happened, his wife was expecting a child.
This dream of my brother's was a good omen, he said, when he had pried it from us. Then he handed Babak a copper. With which we bought food -- something I had never done in all the fourteen years of my life.
Copyright © 2006 by Susan Fletcher
Excerpted from Alphabet of Dreams by Susan Fletcher
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.
In the city of the dead,
a dreamer awakens....
Young Babak has a magnificent gift: He can dream the future. Mitra, his brave older sister, is sworn to protect him. For them to survive living on the streets, she must do whatever is necessary -- including using her brother's talent for profit.
When Babak is asked to dream for a powerful Magus, he receives a mysterious vision of two stars dancing in the night. Determined to solve this prophetic riddle, the Magus takes the boy and his sister on an arduous journey across the desert. What they discover will change the world in a way that no dream could ever predict....