Showing posts with label Margaret Peterson Haddix. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Margaret Peterson Haddix. Show all posts

12/03/2009

Uprising by Margaret Peterson Haddix

It is the peak of immigration in New York City, at the dawn of the twentieth century. Shouts in dozens of languages whoop through the air and smells from every dish imaginable waft through the streets of the Lower East Side. Tenements, rickety but home, climb the sky, fire escapes snaking down. The streets are crowded with pushcarts and calls. Thus is the setting for The Uprising, by Margaret Peterson Haddix.

Bella is a young immigrant girl, fresh from Italy and weighted with the daunting task of providing for her family overseas. She is lucky to find a job, though the hours spent hunched over a sewing machine in the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory are not quite what she expected.

Yetta has worked at Triangle for months. She lives with her equally rebellious elder sister, and, like Bella, sends most of her earnings home to her family in Russia. She is lively with life and pulsing with her want to change the world, to mean something, to matter. She wants women’s rights and safer conditions at work, shorter hours and higher wages. She is determined and fiery, willing to stand for months in the blistering heat and shivering cold, holding a picket sign and striking for union recognition in factories. Yetta is spirited and intense, gladly giving every bit of herself to her cause.

Jane, lastly, is a society girl with an intellectual spark. She is curious and compassionate, spending time with strikers and at rallies for no gain of her own, and finds herself swept up into this passionate world of striking and working and wanting and hoping. There is more to feel, she finds, outside of her ignorant, sheltered life. And these ardent factory girls so desperate for their cause accept her and love her—she finds a place with them that she cannot find at home.

Uprising is the story of these three girls. It is inspiring and adrenalizing (if that was not previously a word, I now deem it one), making me want to jump up and devote myself to a cause with all of my everything. On the other hand, the book does such a good job of enticing the readers into the world it creates, that it runs the risk of romanticizing poverty to some extent.

However, all in all, I love the way the book was crafted. The fire at the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory looms ahead for the entire novel. Right from the first chapter, we learn that two of the three best friends will die in the fire, though we do not know which ones they will be. This sets up an interesting dynamic--as I would read and get to know each character better, I would start to root for her to survive, before realizing, dismayed, that the other two would have to perish. It gave the book momentum and a reason for me to keep reading at the few moments the plot lagged.

Furthermore, the author was very skilled at weaving fiction and fact together, creating a story that haunts and perplexes, makes you think about the world and what you can do to change it, but also makes you care deeply for the three main characters. She succeeded in bringing life to a tragedy that occurred almost a hundred years ago. In making us care not only for the girls who died, but for the factory owners and the workers who survived as well. In painting a horrifying picture of flame and sky and the impossible choice—to jump or to burn? In making readers understand that if we want change to we have to fight for it, as the shirtwaist girls did in their months-long strike. The author wrote the story to make us understand what it was like to be a factory girl in 1911, with holes in her boots and tears in her dress and the incredible desire to change the world. The author wrote the story to give insight into life a century ago, to teach us to fight and question, and to warn us of the modern-day tragedies, today’s equivalents of the Triangle Shirtwaist Fire, that are waiting to happen unless we decide to fight for change.

Four and a half evil daggers.



Fervently yours,
Briar

10/31/2008

Palace of Mirrors by Margaret Peterson Haddix

Palace of Mirrors, by Margaret Peterson Haddix, is a different sort of fairy tale. Cecilia knows she is the true princess, with all heart and all conviction, knows with complete certainty and assurance that indeed, once the danger passes from her kingdom, she will go to the palace and take from the stand-in commoner, her rightful place as princess of Suala.

As for now, and the full fourteen years of her life, she lives in a remote peasant village, so small and obsolete that it lacks placement on most kingdom maps. She lives as a simple peasant girl, fishing at the brook, leading the cow, scrubbing the pots and helping Nanny with chores, living the life of every single common girl in the country, save for the fact that Sir Stephen visits her at night to teach etiquette and algebra, strategy and Latin, all in preparation for the time in which she will rule the land.

But the enemy is closing in. Door latches are slashed, menace lurks in shadows, hiding places are no longer havens. In a night of swords and consequence, Cecilia is forced to run from her safety and her home, run towards capital with nothing but a harp, a friend, and a basket of breads. The palace and the impostor princess loom closer, and as Cecilia finds herself involved deeply with both of them, everything she has ever known, each bedtime wish of hope and magic, are thrown into question and uncertainty.

297 pages, I read Palace of Mirrors in a day, Granted, it was a ridiculously long car ride, but I was so committed to the story that I ignored the fact that I got nauseas every fifteen minutes, due to the motion and the reading. It was completely enjoyable. I got annoyed when I had to stop reading for dinner, though I wasn't in complete distress, as I sometimes am. I read it in a few sittings—it had all of the components of a perfectly great book: it was nicely written, the plot never dragged (though, because of my vast, evil experience with stories like these, I expected it to), there were new, interesting ideas introduced in almost every chapter, and the characters were endearing and pleasant. Looking at it afterwards, I give the book three and a half evilistic daggers.

It was definitely a fun read—not one for the ages, not quite as good as some of Margaret Peterson Haddix's other, stellar works, but a fun read all the same. What was cool was that the book was all about illusion. The girl with the dainty wave on the palace balcony every day may not be the "true princess" and the average peasant may be more than she seems. Or is seeming really anything? Can something as arbitrary as bloodlines really dictate who is fit to rule the kingdom? Is everything you've ever hoped for enough to risk, or should one embrace what they do, what they should have?

There were plenty of chess analogies—things like someone you thought to be the ruler is really only a pawn, and lively descriptions of cities and life and royalty. The whole setting and plotline reminded me a whole lot of Gail Carson Levine's books, except slightly less well done.

Another notable thing—Palace of Mirrors takes place in the same world as Just Ella, also by Margaret Peterson Haddix. Indeed, Ella reprises her role, this time as a friend and confidante to the "true princess," part of a peace delegation from a warring country.

Soo. Nice, crinterproodish sort of book (if you don't know what that is, check out my reviews on Toad Hill), with three and a half wicked evil daggers!



Imagining life as medieval royalty,

Princess Briar of Dreamland