Thursday's Child
Thursday's Child
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Candlewick Press
Annotation: "A startling coming-of-age story. . . . Through Harper, Hartnett captures the humanity of her spirited, slightly eccentr... more
 
Reviews: 9
Catalog Number: #6550252
Format: Paperback
Publisher: Candlewick Press
Copyright Date: 2019
Edition Date: 2019 Release Date: 08/13/19
Pages: 261 pages
ISBN: 1-536-20643-1
ISBN 13: 978-1-536-20643-2
Dewey: Fic
LCCN: 2019457207
Dimensions: 20 cm
Language: English
Reviews:
Starred Review for Publishers Weekly (Thu Apr 28 00:00:00 CDT 2022)

Set in the harsh mining outback of Australia during the Depression, Hartnett's (<EMPHASIS TYPE=""ITALIC"">Sleeping Dogs) startling coming-of-age story combines narrator Harper Flute's grindingly realistic account of a family mired in poverty with a more surreal tale of her younger brother, Tin. Gifted with an uncanny ability to dig through the earth, Tin creates his own subterranean world that provides him both escape and a link to his struggling family. Through Harper, Hartnett captures the humanity of her spirited, slightly eccentric and then nearly broken characters as they survive a horrifying series of losses, only to be saved by a gift from the rarely seen Tin. In telling these events, Harper maintains a convincing and lyrical narrative voice, from her first appearance as a seven-year-old until the climax, when she approaches adulthood. She offers insightful and increasingly sophisticated observations: "As I grew older… I was starting to realize the world is not one place, but two, and that you move from one to the other only with years." The haunting eloquence and dreamlike weaving of the mythic and the mundane invite comparisons to the works of David Almond. Ages 14-up. <EMPHASIS TYPE=""ITALIC"">(May)

ALA Booklist

Harper Flute's brother, Tin, is a digger, and she tells his story. After Tin digs his way out of a mudslide, he begins to tunnel under the Flute house, eventually building a vast network of underground passageways. When one of his tunnels collapses, the boy is unscathed, but the family shanty is destroyed. The Depression brings further misfortune to the Flutes, as the rabbit pelts Da sells in their Australian town become worthless. Although the family rarely sees Tin after their home is gone, his underground digging is a constant amid the poverty, alcoholism, death, and rape to which Harper bears witness. Despite the narrator's youth (Harper is a preteen for most of the book) and the complex narrative, teens will appreciate the demanding but rewarding story. As in Louis Sachar's Holes (1998), the magic here is in the digging. Tin's endless search for security and comfort in the dark, moist walls of the dirt mirrors Harper's own emotional digging, as she tries to find a place on the world's surface where she might feel the security she experienced before the collapse of the family's shanty. This coming-of-age story with allegorical overtones will burrow into young people's deepest hopes and fears, shining light in the darkest inner rooms.

Horn Book

Harper Flute narrates her family's saga, which appears destined for grimness even before Tin, the middle boy, discovers an unnatural penchant for digging and begins tunneling out a subterranean realm beneath his family's shanty. Tin is a primitive who, by living below the surface, achieves an almost mythic power in this odd, unsettling novel set in Depression-era Australia.

Kirkus Reviews

<p>Hartnett (Princes, 1998, etc.) tells a fantastic tale of an ordinary life during the Great Depression. Narrator Harper Flute begins with her brother Tin, "born on a Thursday, and so fated to his wanderings," and about the day he went underground. Having a baby brother who burrows beneath her family's ill-fated plot of land doesn't seem odd to her young eyes. Neither does her father, who, permanently "changed" by the Great War, has taken a farm plot though he knows nothing about farming, and squanders his inheritance on three breeding cows just as the stock market collapses. Harper's voice is precise, charged, and involved. Her nearsighted view broadens as the reader watches her grow. Her bossy older sister becomes a frustrated romantic, and her helpful older brother gives up on the family he's struggled to hold together through his adolescence. Tin disappears more and more from sight, becoming an allegorical and literal underpinning of the family. Hartnett's narrative stands on edge between the mundane and the stuff of legend, as Harper's childhood unfolds precisely and peculiarly towards the event that changes her family forever. Dark, unusual, familiar, and slightly miraculousa"Hartnett's story is not for everyone, but it leaves its mark. (Fiction. YA)</p>

School Library Journal

Gr 7 Up-This novel from Australia details the hardscrabble life of a rural family during the Great Depression. When the story begins, Harper, the narrator, is seven. She relates the many misfortunes that have befallen her family. The oddest member of the clan is her little brother, Tin, who gets temporarily buried in a collapsed creek bank when he is only four. After this incident, burrowing and tunneling become a way of life. The family sees him only occasionally as he gradually turns into a subterranean feral creature, hardly recognizable as human. This surreal strand of plot in an otherwise gritty, realistic story is jarring for a while, but eventually it becomes an accepted piece of the family saga. The father is often mean-spirited and ineffectual when it comes to caring for his loved ones, but is not a stereotypical brute. The mother's character is less well defined, but she comes across as long suffering and protective of her brood. A wealthy neighbor's ulterior motive in hiring the oldest daughter as a servant seems to escape everyone's notice until it is too late. The story begins slowly, gathers momentum, and builds to a page-turning climax. Along the way, the family's house collapses into Tin's antlike tunnels below, one child is the victim of a tragic accident, and Tin, ever watchful, metes out his own terrible justice when his sister Audrey is threatened. This title may be a hard sell due to its strangeness, but readers who stick with it will be rewarded with a unique and fascinating experience.-Bruce Anne Shook, Mendenhall Middle School, Greensboro, NC Copyright 2002 Cahners Business Information.

Word Count: 54,911
Reading Level: 5.9
Interest Level: 7-12
Accelerated Reader: reading level: 5.9 / points: 9.0 / quiz: 63652 / grade: Upper Grades
Reading Counts!: reading level:6.2 / points:14.0 / quiz:Q33580
Lexile: 970L
The land where we lived was by nature dry and dusty but that winter there'd been more rain than a duck would have dreamed of and when I glanced at Tin the mud was seeping up between his toes and he was sinking into the earth, shivering and half asleep. I shook him wakeful and hurried him along. "Where will we go, Tin?" I asked, not expecting any answer because he was generally reticent. "Will we go fishing?"

I had him moving at a trot and his head was joggling up and down, which I took to signify his agreement. There weren't any fish in the creek but he was at the age where you can fool them. He was certain to start whining sooner or later, anyway, no matter what we did, and the best I could do was stall that commotion as long as I could. I had a pin in the hem of my dress and I stopped to unfasten it and give it to him. He examined it carefully before looking at me quizzically through tangles of dandelion hair. "You can spike a fish with that," I explained. "That's your hook."

I could see he liked that sharp reflecting thing. It was half a mile to the creek and I put him on my back and hiked him most of the way, he being light as a feather. I talked to keep him distracted, telling him it was callous to stab my throat with the pin and what would the baby be, a new boy or a new girl? We had two of each already, not counting Mam and Da, so things were pretty equal as they stood and it would be a hard blow to the side that came away the minority. I thought it was a shame that only babies could be born, whichever it turned out being. I could think of plenty of other things I would have preferred to get for nothing.

The creek was typically a drool of a waterway but that afternoon it was running high because of all the rain and the bank was soft and oozy; Tin's feet disappeared to his ankles and he was covered in mud before he even reached the water. He was a dark child anyway, so it didn't look too bad on him. I set on a rock and left him to his devices and looked around, bored. There were white-trunked trees on either side of the creek and you could see where the rain had washed away the earth that had hidden their roots and the roots poked out knotted and naked, groping. It was that quiet, cold kind of day when the birds are surly and refusing to sing and the leaves on the branches aren't moving and seem like they never could. The creek was sluggish, hardly rippling, made from something thick and heavier than water. I was hungry, and could hear my stomach rumbling. I would have exchanged a new baby a hundred times over for a plate of something warm to eat.

When I looked again at Tin he was crouched staring and musing in the shallows with the seat of his pants drenched black, so I crawled forward to see what was diverting him. There was a fish there, swimming in his shadow. There was a whole crowd of fishes, when I looked harder, stranded in a pocket of rock as if the creek had splashed them there for safekeeping or for Tin's amusement alone. "Oh!" I exclaimed. The fish were the length of Tin's thumb, each of them, and not worth the hooking, but they were pretty and silvery, they looked like that hem pin come alive. Tin was sucking on the pin so I took it from him and stirred the rockpool's water and the fish spangled and flashed in agitation. I put a finger in the water and the whole crowd darted and tapped and knocked and nibbled. Tin's teeth were clickering with the cold now; he crossed the steppingstones to the opposite bank and from the way he tugged despondently at a handful of tree root and looked mournfully in the direction of home I could tell he was pondering the practicality of crying. He wandered a distance upstream, clutching the bank to steady himself, hoisting his knees so silt and water came pouring off his heels. "Tin," I said, "come and look at the dainty fishes."

He wouldn't; he turned his face to the mucky wall of the creek and stood there, up to his knees in water. I wasn't about to pander to his childishness so I took no notice of him. I caught a fish in the bowl of my palm and it lashed about while the water drained between my fingers and then lay flat on its side, heaving like a bellows. I petted it with a fingertip and touched it to my lips. It didn't taste like anything. "Look, Tin," I said, but he went on masquerading to be deaf. So, "Look, Tin," I said again, this time making my voice full of wonder and amazement which he could surely not resist, same as a cat can't resist investigating when you suggest there's something hidden she might like to see. If it works on a cat it should work on a four-year-old, but it didn't. Tin stayed where he was and when I glanced over my shoulder full of annoyance, he wasn't anywhere. And the creek bank looked different somehow, with clots of dryish earth rolling down its flank and plinking into the water and the ground all about torn through with a great cleave, and I could hear the dog-scratch sound of tree roots tearing. The creek bank had caved in, right on top of Tin. There was not a spot of him left to be seen. That tiny fish I had in my hand went slithering into the water.

THURSDAY'S CHILD by Sonya Hartnett. Copyright (c) 2000 by Sonya Hartnett. Published by Candlewick Press, Inc., Cambridge, MA.

Excerpted from Thursday's Child by Sonya Hartnett
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 startling coming-of-age story. . . . Through Harper, Hartnett captures the humanity of her spirited, slightly eccentric, and then nearly broken characters." — Publishers Weekly (starred review)

Harper Flute believes that her younger brother Tin, with his uncanny ability to dig, was born to burrow. While their family struggles to survive in a bleak landscape during the Great Depression, the silent and elusive little Tin begins to tunnel beneath their tiny shanty. As time passes, Tin becomes a wild thing, leaving his family further and further behind. Sonya Hartnett tells a breathtakingly original coming-of-age story through the clear eyes of an observant child, with exquisite prose, richly drawn characters, and a touch of magical realism.


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