The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey

 

Reviewed by Christy

            Mabel and Jack have moved all the way from the east coast to the brutal Alaskan frontier – in the hopes that they can start fresh and maybe even heal. It’s been many years since the stillborn death of their only child, and the couple continues to struggle with their grief. It’s 1920, and cars are still a bit of a novelty. If Mabel wants to visit her nearest neighbors, she must hitch up their horse and traverse the wild terrain. But mostly, Jack and Mabel keep to themselves and yet drift further and further apart.

            In a moment of rare levity, they begin frolicking in the snow one night and even build a small snow child. The next morning, the snow child is gone but they catch fleeting glimpses of a young girl running through the forest. What is a child doing alone out in the Alaskan wilderness? And where did she come from?

            Inspired by a Russian fairy tale, The Snow Child is a quiet meditation on the ripples of grief and the importance of found family. To be perfectly honest, not a lot happens in the book. It is slow moving and more concerned with its characters than much of a plot. Ivey takes her time with these characters, which helped me as a reader grow more and more attached to them. She does this while beautifully conjuring up the frozen landscape. I enjoyed this book so much more than I was expecting, and I even shed a tear or two or several. I loved the themes of opening oneself up to new friendships and new adventures. Watching Mabel and Jack grow, not only as people but as a couple, was deeply gratifying.  I can see why the meandering, thin plot wouldn’t be for everyone but this could be a case of the right book hitting me at the right time. If you enjoy character-driven novels with a hint of magical realism, this could be the next read for you.

Nevermore: Distinguished Women, Deep South, Alaska, Social Lives of Dogs

Reported by Ambrea

Nevermore took a good look at the American history with The Book of Distinguished American Women by Vincent Wilson, a compilation of detailed profiles for more than 60 incredible ladies.  Our reader highly recommended checking out Wilson’s book, saying it was very interesting and equally fascinating for its depiction of women in history.  It highlights the ways these women influenced society and impacted history, while simultaneously allowing readers to get an accurate impression of the time period.  In short, it was a very good book for its fascinating and insightful view point of history.

Next, Nevemore shared at The Social Lives of Dogs:  The Grace of Canine Company by Elizabeth Marshall Thomas.  A sequel to her bestselling book The Hidden Life of Dogs, The Social Lives of Dogs is equally illuminating for its in-depth depiction of pet behavior and their unusual adaptation to life with human owners.  As a classically trained anthropologist, Elizabeth Marshall Thomas provided incredible insight into the behaviors of pets—among people, among other dogs—and their impact in their owner’s lives.   Our reader sang praises for The Social Lives of Dogs, calling it “absolutely wonderful.”  For an animal lover, she said it’s an excellent book.

Nevermore also looked at Deep South by Paul Theroux.  An intriguing and insightful narrative, Deep South delves deep into southern culture and history in search of what the author terms the “real South.”  Theroux, a professional travel author with seventeen books under his belt, spent weeks traveling through the South—including Bristol and Big Stone Gap—in a quest to find the Deep South he envisioned.  Although our reader said Theroux’s book was interesting, he was a little troubled by Theroux’s view of the South as an impoverished, stagnating community still reeling from the devastating effects and consequences of the Civil War.  He enjoyed reading Deep South, but he said the South is “too complex to characterize it [in any one particular way]” like Theroux does.  The South contains a multitude of communities, different cultures influenced by the varied histories of each region, which he said Theroux didn’t always depict.  It was a great loss for a book that showed much promise and provided a lot of enjoyment.

Last, Nevermore presented a brand new book by Eowyn Ivey:  To the Bright Edge of the World.  In the deep, snowy wilds of Alaska, Colonel Allen Forrester is commissioned to navigate and chart the Wolverine River at the close of the 19^th century.  Forrester leaves behind his pregnant wife, Sophie, who dreads the prospect of giving birth to their child alone—and she worries about the future they may no longer have together.  Beautifully depicted and incredibly detailed, To the Bright Edge of the World was a wonderful piece of historical fiction.  According to our reader, Ivey’s novel “really gives you insight into Alaska and its hardships” which settlers faced.  It kept our reader hooked from the first chapter, and she recommended it to other readers, along with Eowyn Ivey’s first book, The Snow Child.

The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey

Reviewed by Ambrea

Set on the banks of the Wolverine River of Alaska in the early twentieth century, The Snow Child recounts the experiences of Jack and Mabel, homesteaders on the frontiers of the far north, as they struggle to survive another year in grief and another winter.  However, on an especially cold night with the first snow of winter, Jack’s and Mabel’s lives change forever when they meet a little girl named Faina, a mysterious orphan who has managed to survive in the inhospitable wilderness—a little girl who seems to have sprouted from the snow.

The Snow Child is a hauntingly beautiful story.  Intricate and emotional, Eowyn Ivey’s novel pulls together all the elements of a great novel by combining cultural legends with simple, human psychology and amazing literary skill.  Although The Snow Child borders on tragic, it combines evocative imagery, heart-warming depth, and fantastic character development to create a wonderful story that kept me glued to its pages.

In particular, I was impressed by the great care Ivey took in forming her characters, giving them an emotional breadth and depth that I found refreshing.  I loved the humanity Ivey imbued in her characters:  Jack and Mabel are flawed, but they are human—and they are compassionate, introspective, and unique.  They mature, they evolve and they grow.

On a personal level, I also loved the way The Snow Child weaves together all the elements of legend and myth—i.e. Little Daughter of the Snow by Arthur Ransome and “Snegurochka” of Russian myth—and fairy tales, but remain true to a singular story.  While it borrows from older works, it also manages to forge a path of its own and tell an intriguing and singularly riveting tale of sorrow, joy, and life.

Although I enjoyed The Snow Child immensely, I was consistently plagued by a sense of impending calamity.  From the instant readers meet Faina—in fact, from the minute she starts to become like a daughter to this wonderful, tragic couple—one begins to wonder about and worry over Faina.  She is like the snow from which she appears to spring:  beautiful, bright, but frighteningly fleeting.