About the Author Karen Wallace is the author of more than ninety books, including the novel Raspberries on the Yangtze and the picture books I Am a Tyrannosaurus and Think of an Eel. Karen also writes for children¹s television. She lives with her husband, novelist Sam Llewellyn; two sons, Will and Martin; and two Maine Coon cats, Cougar and Dave, in England. Read more Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Chapter 1'Your pa's fair posh,' said the butcher's boy to Wendy Darling when he saw her in the kitchen. He banged down a wide, flat box on the table. 'All the way from France, these are.' He looked sideways at Wendy's thick golden hair and her big, black-lashed blue eyes. You'll break some hearts one day, young miss.'On your way, Eddie,' said Mrs Jenkins, the cook, firmly. 'And don't forget my sausages tomorrow. There'll be a cup of tea for you if they're fresh.' Eddie grinned and left the kitchen. That Mrs Jenkins, she had eyes in the back of her head.Mrs Jenkins turned to the box on the table. 'Baby chickens!' she said in a disgusted voice. 'No taste to 'em at all! What's wrong with a good English cockerel straight from the farmyard?' Wendy opened the box and saw twenty-four tiny feathered bodies lying side by side, packed in newspaper. She picked one up. Its bones were fine as hairpins and its floppy neck was thinner than her finger. Mrs Jenkins was right. What was the point of them? Each bird seemed barely bigger than a mouthful. 'Can I help you pluck them, Mrs Jenkins?''If you put your apron on, dear.'An hour later, Wendy watched as Mrs Jenkins seasoned the tiny chickens with thyme and wrapped them in fat bacon. 'There's not many knows how to keep 'em juicy,' she said to herself proudly, banging a body into the roasting pan. 'New-fangled nonsense!''Putrefaction,' said Wendy sternly.'Yes, dear.' Mrs Jenkins was used to Wendy saying strange things. The girl was only nine but she often seemed more grown up than her age. She spent half her time with her head in a book and the other half grubbing about in the garden with her magnifying glass. 'It means rot.' Last summer, Wendy had wrapped a dead blackbird in greased muslin and buried it for a month, then dug it up and looked at it through the magnifying glass. Her brother John had been sick.'It's what happens to dead things,' said Wendy to Mrs Jenkins. She drew her eyebrows together. 'Do you think these baby chickens have maggots inside? Extra wriggly French maggots?''I doubt your father would thank me for serving rotten meat.' Mrs Jenkins rolled her eyes. 'These birds cost a pretty penny, I can tell you.'Wendy clicked her tongue. It would be just like her father to show off. He always had to have the latest thing. Then he had to make sure that everyone knew how clever he was.'I think it's a terrible waste of money, Mrs Jenkins. Why can't Father's friends eat pigeon pie like we do? Then he could give the money he saved to the poor families who need it.' By now all of the little birds were seasoned and wrapped in bacon. 'It's that Lady Cunningham,' said Mrs Jenkins in a flat voice. 'She and Sir Alfred are coming to the dinner this evening. Your father thinks she likes foreign food.' Mrs Jenkins picked up a chicken and jabbed the sharp end of a skewer in one end and out the other. 'Why are you stabbing them?' asked Wendy. She looked at Mrs Jenkins sideways. 'It's not their fault they're French.''I'm not stabbing them.' Mrs Jenkins laughed. 'It's the heat from the skewer that cooks them fast and keeps them juicy.' 'First they're strangled, then they're stabbed,' said Wendy. 'I'm glad I'm not French.''I expect your mother and father are too, dear.'Mrs Jenkins slid the last two bodies onto their skewer and fitted them into the roasting pan. Wendy swung a wooden spoon back and forth in front of her face like a metronome. She stared at the huge Welsh dresser on the far side of the kitchen. Its shelves were stacked with china mixing bowls and metal moulds for jelly and baking tins for Mrs Jenkins's superb cakes. Underneath the shelves, copper-bottomed saucepans hung in a row according to size. 'Do you think the big preserving pan would sound like a drum and the tiny pot like a triangle if I hit them with this spoon?''I couldn't rightly say, dear,' said Mrs Jenkins, not really listening. Wendy stared down at the row of wrapped bodies stuck with skewers.'If God lets this happen to little birds, why shouldn't it happen to children? It says in the Bible -''Wendy!' snapped Mrs Jenkins. 'For goodness' sake, stop asking silly questions or I'll ruin these birds and your mother will have my guts for garters.''I'm sorry.'Mrs Jenkins wished she hadn't spoken so sharply. She knew perfectly well that Wendy had hardly anyone to talk to besides her brother John, and even though he was seven, he seemed much younger. As for their nanny - well, Mrs Jenkins was convinced that women like Edwina Holborn should be dragged out at dawn and shot.'Nothing to be sorry about,' said Mrs Jenkins in a kinder voice. 'But there's a time and place for everything.' She held out a white napkin folded into a parcel. 'Now, here's a treat for you. They're your mama's favourite and I made them specially.' 'Is it new-fangled foreign food?'Mrs Jenkins smiled. 'Find out for yourself. Run along now, or that nanny will be after you.'Wendy pulled open the napkin and saw a tiny glazed tart stuffed with a creamy filling. A sprinkling of black dots gleamed on the top. It looked more like a brooch than something you would eat. 'Thank you,' she said. But Mrs Jenkins had turned to a mountain of scallop shells in the shallow stone sink. Two minutes later, Wendy was climbing up the back stairs towards the nursery. Everything was quiet, thank goodness. Horrible Nanny Holborn was still out with John and Michael at the Round Pond in Kensington Gardens.Poor John and Michael.She held the napkin parcel tightly in her hand. Mrs Jenkins was her favourite person in the house, after John and Nana, of course. As she reached the third flight of stairs, she heard Liza, the housemaid, singing from behind the ironing-room door, one of those music-hall songs about moonlight and violets. Wendy smiled to herself. Liza was really singing about Charlie Pickles, the carpenter's apprentice from the mews behind Kensington Place. It was supposed to be a secret but she had heard Liza telling Mrs Jenkins that she and Charlie were engaged to be married.Wendy climbed up the last flight of stairs and turned down the corridor. It wasn't often Liza sang. Liza knew to keep quiet if Nanny Holborn was about. Nanny Holborn had lost two fianc&#233;s in the South African War so she didn't hold with men because all they did was let you down. If she ever heard Liza singing or saw her smiling to herself, Nanny Holborn always went into a fury. No matter how quickly Liza finished her work on her afternoon off, there was always an extra job waiting for her. More often than not it was well into the afternoon before Liza could pin on her hat and take a turn with Charlie around the park. Poor Liza! She never used to have anything to do with Nanny Holborn. Then Agnes, the nursery maid, had given in her notice and her father hadn't taken on a replacement, which was odd because he always seemed proud that the Darlings had more servants than most of their friends. So Liza was doing two jobs now. 'Not that I mind too much,' she told Wendy. 'Me and Charlie'll need the money to get married. There just ain't enough hours in the day, that's all.'Wendy crept quickly past the ironing-room door so as not to disturb Liza. She turned the brass handle of the nursery door as gently as she could and closed it softly behind her.A big black Newfoundland dog looked up from a basket on the linoleum floor. She flopped her tail but didn't get up.Wendy knelt down beside the basket. <... Read more
L**N
Not a magical story at all, but a story about a family in crisis
I began the book expecting Peter Pan to make an appearance in the book somehow, perhaps in the playacting of the Darling children. Halfway through the book I forgot about him completely. By the end of the book, I was creating parallels between the characters in "Wendy" and the characters in "Peter Pan", this book is really a story about a family struggling to love each other and forgive each other's weaknesses.It's a story that young adults can relate to more than young children (even though it is a very easy read). The relationships are complex and require some amount of experience to understand. The breakdown of the Darling's marriage is something most pre-teens and teens can relate to their own lives. The fighting, blaming, and long silences in the Darling house are only too evocative of a family going through divorce. Mr. Darling lashes out at his children as well as his wife when his world begins to crumble through his own immaturity and selfish decision-making.The true 'villain' in the novel is Nanny Holburn, who openly despises the children and forces them to undergo cruel punishments 'for their own good'. And yet, the children, while living in fear, do not feel that they can approach their parents about the problem. The rest of the house staff are very kind to the children, but their parents remain distant.The most obvious parallel in this story is Thomas, Wendy's best friend who lives on her uncle's estate in the country. Thomas is not very clearly explained, but he (though 15) will always be childlike in his heart. Thomas would be Peter Pan, in his permanent childhood, except instead of leading Wendy to another land, she leads him to a more soothing state of mind. However, she does find sanctuary with Thomas, so it is not a bad parallel. I respect the author for not trying to create characters that have a distinct resemblance to the cast of characters from Peter Pan. It leaves you wondering - and makes the story more real.The story does explain why, when given the opportunity, Wendy and the boys would fly out their nursery window after a boy who promises 'Neverland'. They have little reason to trust the adults in their life, and a poor example of what adult life is like.The ending is relatively happy, however, and the Darlings seem to be on a path to resolving their domestic problems. Perhaps Wendy would not fly out the window at the end of the story, but would stay to see how things turn out.
K**I
All too morbidly real. ..
Peter Pan has turned into a Cinderella story.Wendy's world begins to fall apart - or perhaps it has never been that nice, as her nanny is a crocodile and Mother never notices her children are unhappy.Forced to play with the awful children next door whilst the neighbour conducts and affair with Mr Darling which Wendy & John unhappily witness, London is the world the Darling children would love to escape.Mr Darling slides into debt and Mrs Darling is absorbed in her own misery - the Princess who never grew up, whilst Mr Darling is himself a big child, unable to face facts and denying his part in the unhappy events which unravel.All too morbidly real, this isn't a story for children, with it's tales of affairs, bankruptcy and indifferent adults.I was alarmed to recall it was lodged with the junior books on library shelves, because I would recommend 15+ to read this book.Nana Darling, the loveable dog is the only unchallenged character.Mrs Darling is viewed as a selfish Tinkerbell, whilst Peter Pan is the addled Thomas, living in the country and madly painting when Wendy visits.Mildly disturbing, it's Peter Pan treated as an everyday sad world - the magic is all imagined and although the Darling children are rather nice, one ought not imagine a novel of magic and childlike wonder, less it is the wonder dissipating!Wendy is forced to play mother to them all, as in her close concentration on the world about her events keep intruding on her reality.Interestingly, the cover it's been published with for the Australian, and also I suspect the British, audience, is far more evocative for the Peter Pan story than the Alice through the Looking Glass bookcover advertised herein.Interesting and indeed as it claims on the cover 'A bold and unforgettable novel inspired by the world of Peter Pan'.It IS bold and unforgetable, and also poignant, messy and scary!Nicely toldkotori 2005
S**T
Lousy book
Picked this book up at library for my 11 year old. Thought it might be a fun book for her to read but I decided to check it out first. Thank goodness I did, I didn't even make it to third chapter before putting this book down. It really belongs in the trash. The opening chapter has the cook preparing baby chicks for dinner by stabbing a skewer into them and Wendy wondering if God would let that happen to little children. What?? The first chapter set such a weird tone for the book. Then you find out the nanny is cruel and abusive, the mother self absorbed and possibly going insane and the father is a drunkard and engages in adulterous behavior that the children watch from the stairwell. Needless to say, I won't be giving it to my daughter to read.
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