Exiles

In the arts, it’s difficult to make nice or normal interesting. UK author of children’s books Hilary McKay managed it in her very first effort, The Exiles, published in 1992. It garnered a literary prize. It is the story of four sisters, ages six-13, sent to spend the summer with a grandmother they hardly know and suspect hates them. Avid readers, they are horrified at the dearth of literature available to them. They must find other ways to fill time, exactly granny’s plan. The setting is rural. The Isle of Man is 40 miles away, visible from the hilltop house on clear days. The author tells the tale with humor and grace. It is smoothly written, although there are instances where I didn’t understand what is being expressed, which is perhaps due to the differences between the English on each side of the pond. I noted that the recommended reading ages at Amazon is 9–12. Well, this 70-year-old enjoyed it. The characterizations are astute and grounded. It is slice of life writing that contains insight into the minds of normal kids, not that they are without quirks and faults. The 217 pages read like considerably less. Its appeal is largely for pre-teens, most likely female, and those adults who value stories about the human condition that elevate the mundane to art. Five users at Amazon have rated it, forging to a consensus of 4.9 on a scale of five. I will add a four. Copies of the hardcover edition I read are listed at $25+. It has been reissued. According to her Wiki profile, McKay, 61, has written 30 other books. She has received several awards. Kudos.

“The best laid plans of mice and men…” Since the forecast predicted rain at noon, I decided to open the floating book shop early. I hoped the immediate availability of a parking space was a good omen. The display was in place by 9:30. Alas, no one bought. The cold months of November, December and January had been much better than usual in terms of business, but February was disappointing. At least I learned the origin of the phrase that begins the paragraph. I’m surprised it took me so long to research it — or maybe I’d simply forgotten the details. I assumed it was from Shakespeare. It’s actually from a poem by Robert Burns, To a Mouse (1785). As so often happens, the phrase has been altered over time. It was originally “schemes.” Another example of this is “All that glitters is not gold.” That was coined by the immortal bard in The Merchant of Venice (1600), and the original word was “glisters.” French theologian Alain de Lille and Chaucer used clumsier forms of it before Will ironed it out (facts from Wiki). Class dismissed.

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