Historical Fiction – BRIC-A-BRAC

Imagining Life at Skara Brae

Almost 5000 years ago, before the pyramids were built in Egypt, before Stonehenge was erected on the Salisbury Plains, a group of farmers settled in a village on the coast of Orkney, not far from the crashing waves of the ocean. It might seem strange to establish their community on this wind swept, treeless island in the North Atlantic, but at the time Orkney was an important power center in Europe. There is ample evidence of extensive trade of goods and ideas between the nearby islands and the mainland of Scotland, England and the continent. Orkney Island was strategically located for trade back then. (And the island was equally important in World Wars I and II.)

Skara Brae is by far the best preserved Neolithic village in Northern Europe. It has been designated as a World Heritage Site. The exhibition hall, the replica house, and the site itself all help us understand what life was like for the people living here so long ago.

Much has been learned from studying this remarkable place, but much still remains unknown, and perhaps, unknowable. Though the roofs are long gone, we can see the layout of the stone furniture, the hearths and bed boxes, the latrines and live catch basins, all of which offer clues to life here. However, much of the ‘stuff’ that makes life comfortable is perishable–the food, the clothing, the bedding, …the list goes on. For a writer, Skara Brae provides an ideal setting to let the imagination soar.

Using facts gleaned from archeologists’ studies and reasonable guesses, here is one version of a day in the thriving village of Skara Brae. I imagine…

A young mother, we’ll call her Lin, wakes early to nurse her baby. Sleepily, she crouches in the stone bed box alongside her two older children, her old father, her husband, and her sister. The stone floor of the bed is cushioned by bracken and skins, and Lin is comfortable surrounded by her family.

The room is dark and smoky.. There are no windows. The hearth fire has burned low overnight, but thick stone walls with piles of midden surrounding them keep out the chill wind and deaden the sound of the sea.

Lin rises and settles the baby in her sister’s arms. After a quick visit to the corner latrine with its drain under the settlement, she builds up the hearth fire, burning dried seaweed and animal bones. As the rest of the family wakens and joins her by the hearth, she prepares a meal to break their fast. She heats stones in the fire and drops them in a pottery jar containing a pottage of grain and berries, along with some limpets the children gathered yesterday. Her oldest son cracks some hazel nuts to add to the meal. The mixture has fermented slightly, giving it a tangy, earthy taste. It’s fall so food is plentiful and the family will eat well today.

After eating the family scatters to their chores. Lin’s father-in-law is a master carver. He’ll spend the day in the workroom at the far end of the passage connecting the houses in this village. As he carves the walrus tusks into pins and cattle teeth into beads, he’ll teach the craft to the older children of the village. They expect to trade these carvings with visitors before winter closes them off for a time.

Lin’s husband goes outside to inspect the corbelled stone roofs of his and his neighbors’ houses to make sure the last storm did not cause any damage. He’s the best builder in this community, with knowledge and practice of fitting the stones together. Many of the men will fish today, but he and a few others have planned a hunt for red deer which roam the island.

One of the old grandmothers of the village takes the younger children to the beach. She’ll guide them in gathering limpets, and other shellfish. Carrying her baby in a deerskin sling, Lin goes with her friend to milk the sheep clustered in a pen not far from the village. They’ll use the milk to make cheese which can be smoked and saved for use all winter. Later she’ll join the other women of the village to harvest the crop of bere (an ancient type of barley) they have planted a little way from the village.

Days have been growing shorter as winter approaches. After working all day with their neighbors, the family gathers again in their one room house. Lin’s daughter has found a handful of white feathers from the sea birds on the beach. Lin carefully arranges them in a display on the stone shelf opposite the doorway. In the soft light of the fire, the family eats the evening meal enjoying the remains of the same pottage that they had in the morning and will add to again the next day. Lin takes the set of dice her father-in-law carved from the shelf, and they enjoy a lively game. The grownups laugh and joke with each other while the children fall asleep.

Finally Lin banks the hearth fire and they all settle into the bracken lined bed box, happy and cozy after their productive day.

Skara Brae was inhabited for 300 or 400 years, and then the place was abandoned. We don’t know why people stopped living there, whether it was a sudden departure, or a gradual one. Perhaps a terrible storm brought too much sand or perhaps the younger generations gradually moved away, looking for a better place. What we do know is that after the village was abandoned, it was buried by the blowing sand and forgotten. Until centuries later, in 1850 another storm revealed part of the hidden village. So much that is unknown… so much for the visiter to imagine.

A Discussion of The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon

A question of justice

The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon gets high marks on all aspects of what makes good historical fiction. The story is a fictionalized account of 6 months in the life of Martha Ballard, with forays into her past. The real Martha Ballard, a 18th century midwife who kept a daily journal, serves as a springboard for a cozy mystery set in Maine just after the American Revolution, a time when the United States was in its infancy. Using meticulous research, Lawhon skillfully weaves a compelling narrative. Martha is an accomplished midwife who has delivered hundreds of babies, and cared for the women before and after their children were born. She is a healer. When called to examine the body of a man caught in the ice at the beginning of winter, Martha works to find the truth of his death. Through the course of the novel, readers see her as a mother, a wife, a neighbor. In many ways she represents the ordinary woman, caring for family, keeping house, looking after her friends, all the things women of today do. The details of how such tasks are done, and what chores and pleasures fill our time have changed over time, but the goals of happiness, health, safety, and fulfillment are the same.

One of the strengths of this book is the way Lawhon explores what it meant to be a woman at a time when men’s and women’s rights were different, and a woman’s voice could be ignored in any court of law. Women were not allowed to testify without a husband or father present, and had little recourse against any attacker. Yet the women in this book, especially Martha, are not helpless. They have agency in their own lives, even within the strictures society puts on them. Martha makes her own decisions and acts as she sees fit.

Through Martha’s story, Lawhon addresses the theme of justice. What is justice? Is it simply revenge for a wrong? Punishment for the perpetrator so the victim feels better? An attempt to prevent further crimes? A dictionary definition looks at ideas of fairness, due process under the law, and impartiality. But in a legal system where more than half the population (women, people of color, etc) have different rights, how can any kind of fairness be achieved?

Even though in the 21st century we come closer to equal rights than Martha’s world did, these questions remain and inequities remain. Martha’s efforts to bring about justice can help readers today think about these same questions. To be civilized means to live under a system of law. But when the law does not protect the innocent and allows the guilty to freely commit more crimes, how can justice be achieved?

That’s a question just as relevant today as it was 200 years ago.

Thoughts on:

The Blossom and the Firefly

By Sherri L. Smith

The Blossom and the Firefly tells the story of two Japanese teenagers who meet in the waning days of World War II and fall in love despite the forces meant to keep them apart. Taro, seventeen, is a kamikaze pilot. He is ready to die to protect his country from the threat of the Americans. Hana, fifteen, is one of the Nadeshiko girls, whose job it is to wave goodbye to the pilots meant to fly to their deaths. “Nadeshiko’ refers to the delicate pink flower that symbolizes the perfect Japanese woman. But Hana feels far from perfect. She questions the demands her country makes for blind loyalty and sacrifice, but she worries even more about her own inadequacy to be so strong.

There are many books written about World War II, and many of these focus on the tragedy of war. The Blossom and the Firefly stands out because it is told from the point of view of the loser. Smith deftly invites readers to consider these young people as just as idealistic in their own ways as the young men fighting for the Allied powers. Both Taro and Hana believe in the wisdom of their leaders and try hard to have the moral fortitude to save their homeland, no matter what they must give up to do so. They believe they are on the side of good. But as the tides of war drive Japan to more and more drastic responses, Taro and Hana are forced to give up their own dreams in order to serve their country. Every hope either of them had for their own future must be put aside.

And then the unthinkable happens. Japan surrenders. Their choices are stripped away, and their world is shattered, turned upside down. Everything they held as true must be re-examined in the face of such loss. The end of World War II was not a celebration for Japan.

And yet, the war was crippling Japan’s people as well as their enemies. I once talked with a woman who survived the bombing of Hiroshima when she was seven. When she was asked if she hated the Americans for what they had done, she replied, “After the bomb, we had food.”

I’m not naive enough to think her answer is the complete truth. At the very least, she must have felt great sorrow over the loss of her home and the death of her sister. But she chose not to focus on blame. Hana and Taro, along with all the people of Japan, had to learn a new set of guidelines for life.

In fact, one reason why this book is so memorable is because Smith shows Japan’s decline and then the aftermath of the war. She shows how the losing country had to dig deeper and deeper for the resources needed to keep on fighting. She lets readers see Taro and Hana’s lasting pain after losing everything they ever thought was right, of losing their ideals, their faith in the moral strength of their cause. Beyond that, Smith shows the courage it takes to go on living after such a deep and lasting loss.

Smith’s prose is so lyrical, it might be called poetry. Her writing draws us in, creating a deep intimacy with the characters. Smith invites readers to care about Hana and Taro, to feel their pain, experience their emotions, and believe in their struggles. Smith challenges readers to recognize that even those we call ‘enemy’ have strong feelings and high ideals. They are equally brave and heroic as our own heroes. They struggle to protect their families. More than anything else, Smith never lets readers forget that the people on all sides of a war are human.

That’s something worth remembering in the world today.

Thoughts on North to Freedom

a book by Anne Holm

It’s no secret that I love reading, or that I read widely, eagerly embracing many different genres and enjoying books for all ages. In fact, I estimate that I’ve read over 3,000 books in my life. With so many books under my belt, it may be surprising that I remember any of them. It’s true, some books are quick reads, offering momentary pleasure, and are easily forgotten. But some books stick with me and have a lasting influence on the way I see the world.

One such book is North to Freedom, by Anne Holm. Published in Danish in 1963, and translated to English by L. W. Kingsland in 1965, it’s the story of a young boy, David, who was raised in an Eastern European concentration camp. In the beginning of the book, David lies awake, wondering if he should trust the Man who told him to escape that night. He worries that it’s a trick. He will be shot or electrocuted crossing the fence. Or he will be recaptured and punished for the attempt.

Life is the camp is horrible. Feeling he has little to lose, David does escape and his adventure begins. Though he expects to be killed at any moment, David gradually learns to value his freedom. I remember being totally caught up in his story as David first discovered beauty in the world and tasted his first orange.

I’m not really sure why this book drew me in so completely. I first read it in 5th or 6th grade, before I had any knowledge of the political climate of the day, the cold war, or any current events. I think I had heard or read of Nazi Germany and their concentration camps, but this was not about World War II. Really, nothing in young David’s life related to anything in my life. I had never been imprisoned, or gone without food, or had to travel secretly on my own, or worry about capture. I knew what it was like to be in a family.

True, I had tasted oranges. Growing up in California, I knew oranges well, and loved sucking the juice out of them. Perhaps it was my shock at the poverty of a life without such simple pleasures that made me connect with this book.

Or perhaps I was seduced by the writing, which is certainly compelling. As a reader, I cared for David from the first few paragraphs when the Man has told him he must escape, and David must decide whether or not to believe him.

In the end, I suspect I was drawn to the character of David himself, who in spite of all he’d been through, is fundamentally a good person. He can see good in others and in the world, in spite of all his hardships. I don’t know if I already believed this to be true before reading the book, but it is an attitude I still embrace. Bad things happen, and bad people exist, but there’s also a world of good around us, if only we open our eyes to it. David knew that, and so his story lives with me.

Whatever the reason I remember this book so well, it is a treasure I highly recommend. Perhaps you too will remember it fondly half a century after reading it.

A Mistake of Consequence- a discussion

What would I do if…? That’s how many of my book ideas get started. I’ll read about some minor event or custom from the past and wonder how I would cope. My historical fiction novel, A Mistake of Consequence (2015) started this way. In a history class, I read a heartfelt plea from a young girl in Colonial Maryland, begging her father in England to send her some clothes, or better yet, let her come home. In case you don’t know, indenture is a legal contract binding yourself (or being bound by another) for a certain number of years (usually seven). You owe your labor in return for some compensation such as passage to America, learning a trade, or room and board. The indentured person is not free to leave the contract, and has limited rights as a servant. I was fascinated by this girl’s plea and by the fact that her father had sold her.

Once I have an idea for a book, I do a lot of research. For this book, I learned that indenture was widely practiced in the colonization of North America. Over half of seventeenth century colonists started out as indentured servants. Men, women and even children indentured themselves or were indentured to pay debts or as punishment for crimes. The need for cheap labor in the colonies was so great that ‘spiriters’ in England, Ireland and Scotland kidnapped unwary men, women and children and sold them for profit. I wanted to explore the concepts of freedom, agency, and power in colonial women’s lives, and the practice of indenture gave me a wonderful avenue to do so.

In A Mistake of Consequence, there are actually three women who face indenture under very different circumstances, all grounded in historical practices.

Callie Beaton, the main character, is abducted. Her indenture is involuntary and the ‘master’ who buys her is unscrupulous. She has no way to prove she has been wronged unless she can get a letter to her grandfather so that he can buy her back.

On board the ship, Callie meets Mary, the mother of two young children. Mary and her husband signed a contract for indenturing themselves and their children to pay for their passage overseas. As poor tenant farmers in Scotland, they hope to start fresh and own land in the colonies once their term of service is over. But when Mary’s husband dies, the whole term of service for herself and her husband falls on Mary, more than doubling the length of time she will be indentured. Even worse, she has an abusive master.

With two such miserable experiences, you might ask, why did so many people indenture themselves? One answer to that can be seen in my third character, Peg. She has no family and no prospects in Scotland. Believing she can find a good husband in the Colonies, she indentures herself voluntarily. She leaves Edinburgh with no regrets and arrives in America in confident expectation of a better life.

Three women…three different paths. Isn’t historical fiction fun?

Announcing…

This month I’m deviating a bit from my usual blog to celebrate Irish legend and Irish places. And celebrate two books I have coming out in the next few months.

First up, is Ireland: You Can’t Miss It. This collection of essays, photographs, and poems offers my impressions of Ireland. In it, it share stories of my own travels, along with the legends and myths of many memorable places. Part memoir, part travelogue, this celebration of Ireland is sure to delight anyone. (No Irish heritage required.)

Some of the places featured in this book are ones I wrote about in this blog previously. For instance:

Hill of Tara: https://bricabrac164.wordpress.com/2019/05/31/the-hill-of-tara/
Cahir and Doe Castles: https://bricabrac164.wordpress.com/2019/05/17/want-to-be-safe-build-a-castle/
Blarney Castle and grounds: https://bricabrac164.wordpress.com/2019/03/08/beyond-the-blarney/
Proleek Dolman: https://bricabrac164.wordpress.com/2018/03/13/irish-mysteries-the-proleek-dolman/
Mellifont Abbey: https://bricabrac164.wordpress.com/2021/03/12/mellifont-abbey/

The second book I’m celebrating is Finn McCool and the Giant’s Causeway. This story features one of my favorite Irish heroes (Finn McCool) and his clever wife (Oona) at one of my favorite place in Northern Ireland (The Giant’s Causeway).

Ireland: You Can’t Miss It will be available from my website http://www.terrikarsten.com or from Amazon on May 25.

Finn McCool and the Giant’s Causeway will be available from my website http://www.terrikarsten.com or from Amazon on August 10.

Take and look and enjoy celebrating Ireland with me.

The Orphan Collector–a review

A novel of love and resilience in the face of tribulation and despair

Fear and grief, two of the most powerful emotions we face, can lead desperate people to despicable acts. Set during the 1918 Flu Epidemic in Philadelphia, The Orphan Collector by Ellen Marie Wiseman gives readers a glimpse of this overwhelming desperation. The story follows Pia Lange, the child of German immigrants, and Bernice Groves, a bereft mother and widow. In the opening scene, Pia, her mother, and her baby brothers attend the Liberty Loan Parade, a gathering of some 200,000 shortly before the end of World War I. Pia and her family feel compelled to show their patriotism because of the prejudice they have faced as German immigrants. But as she endures the crowded streets, Pia feels something very wrong. Although she doesn’t know it, the gathering served to spread the Spanish Flu (as it was then called) throughout the city. Within a week, 4,500 people had died from this influenza, and 47,000 were sick. By the end of the month, some 12,000 people had died, among them Pia’s mother and Bernice’s baby son. Thirteen year old Pia is left to care for her twin baby brothers. When she inevitably runs out of food, she makes the difficult choice to leave the relative safety of their small apartment to find something for the boys to eat. But the babies are toddling now, and she is afraid they will hurt themselves in her absence. So she waits until they are napping and locks them in a cupboard. She expects to be right back.

Meanwhile, Bernice, suffering from overwhelming grief at the loss of her own baby, sees Pia, a hated immigrant, leave, and hears the babies crying. She takes them and pretends they are her own.

Thus begins the intertwined lives of Pia, desperate to find her brothers, and Bernice, equally desperate to replace her lost child. The contrast between the two is remarkable. Pia is imprisoned in an orphanage, and suffers hunger, neglect, and beatings. Through it all, she maintains her courage and her sense of right. She always helps other unfortunate orphans whenever she can. Bernice, on the other hand, lets her prejudice and grief reshape her into a woman who will do anything, even steal and sell babies, to keep her secret safe.

In this emotionally fraught novel, readers learn of the devastation caused by the Influenza Pandemic, and of the inadequate and abusive institutions charged with caring for the overwhelming number of orphans left behind. Readers will also see the enduring power of love and the healing capacity of kindness.

I give this book a 5 star rating, for the powerfully drawn characters, the skillfully woven plot, and the fascinating historic details. There are many lessons to be learned from this gripping novel of dark times and human cruelty. In spite of the sobering truths this book reveals, chief among those lessons is one of hope. In all the trials and tribulations one may face, resilience and fortitude matter. Love can overcome fear, and kindness can ameliorate grief. These are lessons the world today would do well to remember.

The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie: a review of Alan Bradley’s book

I have a soft spot for precocious children, both in real life and in books. With their unconventional interests and peculiar perspectives, they often delight and amaze me.

Eleven-year-old Flavia de Luce is no exception, the protagonist of The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, by Alan Bradley. A self-proclaimed chemist, with a particular interest in poisons, Flavia’s insatiable curiosity inevitably gets her into some serious scrapes. Her intelligence, quickwittedness and daring usually get her out again.

This cozy murder-mystery iis set in an iconic British village in 1950, after World War II. The historical setting provides a backdrop for Flavia’s adventures, and back-story for the characters, but in this historical fiction, it is the characters who really stand out. Flavia lives with her widowed father and two older sisters. Her father is still lost in mourning for his wife,who died in a mountain climbing accident when Flavia was only a year old. To say Flavia does not get on with her older sisters is putting it mildly. The rivalry is constant and entertaining. Daphne (Daffy) is obsessed with books, and Ophelia (Feely) is obsessed with looks (and boys), both passions that Flavia finds boring and insipid. When they tie her up and lock her in the closet, she plans a revenge using poison to cause a rash.

There is also a housekeeper/cook who comes in the daytime. She is a pleasant lady given to some cockamamie and superstitious notions, but she has her own duties and little time for or understanding of Flavia. The only other member of the household is Dogger, the valet/gardener, who understands and even sympathizes with Flavia, but suffers from debilitating shell-shock. Thus Flavia has a great deal of freedom to do as she pleases.

In a cast full of well-developed, thoroughly envisioned, characters, Flavia stands out as a remarkable individual. While the other members of her family pursue their own eccentric passions, Flavia discovers the chemistry lab of one of her ancestors. Ensconced in this remarkably complete laboratory, she delights in conducting bizarre experiments (most of which work) with some rather surprising and illuminating results. But Flavia is not limited to her lab. With her trusty bicycle, Gladys, Flavia manages to show up all over the county, asking questions and interpreting the answers. An accomplished liar herself, Flavia can usually tell when the answers she gets are more fabrication than truth.

In the end, Flavia really just wants to be recognized for her skill; or even just acknowledged as a valuable person; as someone to be taken seriously; as someone who matters. However, she knows full well that no one pays close attention to the knowledge of children and that asking too many questions of the wrong people will get her freedom curtailed. So in spite of the limitations an eleven-year-old child faces in investigating a crime, Flavia blithely carries on. Using her knowledge of chemistry, the results of her experiments, her persistence in chasing after clues and scraps of knowledge, she manages to stump the grown-ups and come to the right answers, though surviving to tell the tale is more challenging.

This introduction to young Flavia is bound to leave the reader wanting more. Not to worry: there are 10 more books in the series, giving everyone ample opportunity to get to know her even better.

Books in order:

1.The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie	(2009)
2, The Weed That Strings the Hangman’s Bag	(2010)
3. A Red Herring Without Mustard	(2011)
4. I Am Half-Sick of Shadows	(2011)
5. Speaking from Among the Bones	(2012)
6. The Dead in Their Vaulted Arches	(2014)
6.5 The Curious Case of the Copper Corpse	(2014)
7. As Chimney Sweepers Come to Dust	(2015)
8. Thrice the Brinded Cat Hath Mew’d	(2016)
9. The Grave’s a Fine and Private Place	(2017)
10. The Golden Tresses of the Dead	(2019)

Dirt: A Story of the Dust Bowl

In the 1930’s, severe drought throughout the Great Plains of North America caused a misery called the Dust Bowl. Lack of water killed the crops, and high winds picked up acres of dirt carrying it as far east as New York City and beyond. Farms failed, towns were buried in dust, and millions migrated westward. Stories written about this period of American history reflect the heartaches and terrible losses of those who survived.

Dirt, by S.L. Dwyer, s no exception. The story centers on 13-year-old Sammy, his 7-year-old sister, Birdie, and a mangy dog, aptly called Dirt. Suddenly and dramatically orphaned, Sammy and Birdie have to learn to cope if they are to survive in this harsh environment. Determined not to be separated and sent to the state orphanage, Sammy and Birdie begin their life of lies, telling no one their parents have died. But how does a child find enough food to eat, especially in a land where everyone is struggling? How does a child take on the responsibility of cooking, cleaning, working, and hardest of all, making decisions. It’s almost more than Sammy can bear.

But Dirt is also a story of resilience. Like many people who survived the dust bowl, Sammy finds he has more strength than he realized. Not the strength of muscles, but inner strength, the ability to carry on in spite of all that is going wrong, the ability to keep on trying even when there seems to be no hope of success. As Sammy works to find food and protect his sister, there are times he wants to give up, to quit even trying. But he refuses to succumb to that depression. He learns to work harder than he’s ever worked before. Even as things go from bad to worse, Sammy keeps on struggling just to stay alive.

Sammy’s resilience provides a good model for people today. His story shows us that when trouble comes, we don’t have to give up. More importantly, he discovers he doesn’t have to be alone in that struggle. Even when things are at the bleakest point imaginable, there are still good people, who in spite of their own troubles, reach out a hand to help. And it’s okay to take that hand, to trust in the kindness offered. Sammy learns that a community of people looking out for each other is stronger than any individual.By illuminating the darkest times of the past, historical fiction can provide powerful lessons for people today. In Dirt, S. L.Dwyer gives readers both a window into the past and a mirror for today. Above all, Dirt is a darn good story.

The Fall of Acre

Thoughts on Acre’s Bastard and Acre’s Orphans

History, especially history of war, is most often told from the winner’s point of view, and the loser’s side is left out of the story. Wayne Turmel’s books, Acre’s Bastard and Acre’s Orphans, are remarkable because Turmel’s protagonist, 10-year-old Lucca, encounters and reflects multiple perspectives. Both books in the series are set in 11th century Acre and surrounding areas at the moment of the fall of the Kingdom of Jerusalem. This Christian kingdom had been established by crusaders nearly a hundred years earlier in 1099, in what is currently Israel, Palestine, and Lebanon. Then in 1187, Saladin’s forces gathered to attack the Kingdom.

The story begins as trouble in the area is brewing. Rumors abound in Acre as everyone fears the coming of Saladin. Enter Lucca Le Pou, (or Lucca the Louse), an insignificant orphan with unknown parentage. He might be the bastard child of a French crusader. His mother might have been a native Christian, or possibly a Muslim, a Jew, or a Samaritan. Acre was very diverse with many ethnicities, languages, and religions interacting. Whatever his heritage, Lucca has been raised in a Christian monastery, and taught to believe Christianity is the only way. Lucca’s ability to blend in with the other natives of the area, and his familiarity with the French rulers, make him an ideal candidate to report on what he sees and hears in the marketplace.

A boy who knows how to find trouble when he’s not even trying, Lucca gets into one mixed up scrape after another. He is observant, but naive, which makes him an ideal person to narrate the events in this story of the Crusades. The adult reader sometimes understands more than Lucca, but like him comes to understand the terrible irony of a conflict in which each side believes theirs is the only right way to believe and live. Worse, each side firmly believes the others are monsters, bent on raping, killing, and destruction. As readers follow Lucca’s journeys, they see not only the great leaders, but the many ordinary people caught up in the tides of drastic change.

With great attention to detail and historical accuracy, Turmel’s stories remind us there is more than one side to any conflict. The European invasion of the Middle East in the Crusades and the centuries long conflicts that ensued brought cruelty and hardship to a great many people. This orphan caught in the middle will need all his wits just to stay alive. In the end, Lucca shows readers that no matter what God we believe in, or who our leader is, we really all want the same things: safety for our friends and a place to call home.