Rosalie K. FryBesprekingen

An Ariel book

I really enjoyed this book. It really took me back to the Blasket Islands. I don't believe this really took place there, but the descriptions really reminded me of those Irish islands. I remembered the people of Blasket being moved away to the mainland near Dingle as the characters were in this tale. Lovely illustrations. A touching story.

Ok, here's the deal. My family owned very few books when I was a child. (The library was a short walk away, and the school library was pretty good too.) But we did own this. And yet, because of the cover, I never read it. I knew, in NW rural WI, about the danger of snowstorms and how awful it would be to get stranded in one.

So anyway, I finally am prompted by GR acquaintances to read Fry, and this is the first one I can get my hands on. And as a child I was right - I would not have liked it. Even now I think the set-up is implausible and the children's resourcefulness and cheerfulness totally unrealistic. I can definitely see some children loving this quick adventure, and objectively it probably rates 3 stars, maybe 3.5 - but I am not impressed.

And yet - I do sense a voice, a grace - I will do my darndest to find more by the author.

I have loved this story since I first saw the movie years ago and have long intended to read the book but something always held me back. I wish now I had not waited so long. It is a tale filled with the magic and folklore of Ireland it begins with a young woman, a selkie, who gives up her seal form to marry and live among the island folk. This story however is really that of young Fiona, just returned from the mainland to live with her grandparents. She has missed her island home, but more than that she has longed to find her younger brother Jamie who was swept out to sea on the day they evacuated Ron Mor.

This a fairytale written for children, written down to pass the old stories on to a new generation. I've always had a soft spot for Irish folklore and this story is a perfect example of what I love about it. Magical and filting with the lilting beauty of the Irish, Rosalie Fry, does a fine job of bringing this story to life. For one who has grown up loving fairytles, she has made this story believable, one that I can truthfully see playing out amongst the prior generations who inhabited the emerald isles and the storm swept islands heading out into the Atlantic.

When Fenella learns that she is a fairy changeling, she sets out to return to her own people, but instead meets up with Nell, the human girl whose place she took, who is herself escaping from the Little People. Together the girls wander Ireland, encountering tinkers (Travelers), farmers, and peat-cutters, and picking up a menagerie of stray animals along the way.

This is a rather odd book, and I am still unsure as to whether I like it or not. It is not really a fantasy, save for the occasional references to the "Little People," who never really materialize. It is more of an "wandering child" type adventure, in which the heroine(s) eventually find a home, with plenty of "animal-story" appeal to please intermediate readers. Much like Fry's book Mungo however, I found my suspension of disbelief wearing somewhat thin, not with regards to the fantasy elements of the story, but in relation to the human behavior depicted. It seemed odd that no one from Fenella's human family would pursue her, or that the many adults the girls encounter don't seem more concerned at the prospect of two young girls wandering the countryside. This may be one of those children's books that just doesn't translate well for adults.

Like The Secret of the Ron Mor Skerry, this was illustrated with the author's own delicate black and white drawings.

When young Fiona McConville is sent to stay with her grandparents in the Western Isles of Scotland, she and her cousin Rory become involved in a plan to return the family to their abandoned ancestral home, the Ron Mor Island. Discovering the secret of the seals of Ron Mor Skerry, Fiona helps to resolve a family tragedy involving her long-lost baby brother, Jamie, in the process.

Readers may be more familiar with the adaptation of this short novel, and the film made from it: The Secret of Roan Inish, in which the setting is changed from Scotland to Ireland. But although the movie is well done, I think that this original version is the preferable one. Secret of the Ron Mor Skerry (originally published in the UK as Child of the Western Isles) is imbued with a powerful sense of place, and of the connections between people and the natural world around them. Those who have done some reading about the gradual abandonment of many of the western islands, off both Scotland and Ireland, will recognize many of the themes here. The writing is positively luminous, and Fry's delicate line drawings are a perfect complement to the story.

As a side note, readers interested in learning more about selkies should pick up a copy of Duncan Williamson's Tales of the Seal People: Scottish Folk Tales.

Set in a small Welsh village, this short novel relates the story of six children - two Anglican, two Roman Catholic, and two Methodist - who work together to restore a dilapidated old chapel in the woods.

This book reminded me in many ways of Rumer Godden's wonderful children's title, The Kitchen Madonna, with its emphasis on respect for the beliefs of others, and its portrayal of the power of friendship to overcome religious divisions. These themes are most welcome, particularly as Fry avoids using a didactic tone, and presents a heartwarming story that should keep young readers engaged. The Taffy plot-line, in particular, should please animal-loving children who've dreamed of owning a pony.

Like two of the author's other books, Snowed Up and Whistler in the Mist, this was illustrated by Robin Jacques.

When Rosemary Howells is sent from Borneo to stay with her father's family in Wales, the listless young girl is not sure that she will ever fit in with her impressive and somewhat intimidating relatives. But she soon finds a kindred spirit in old Aunt Betony, and as the refreshing Black Mountain air begins to work its magic upon her, Rosemary discovers a keen interest in her great-aunt's traditional herb-lore. Her efforts to befriend her cousins, Ivor and Dilys, are less successful, and as Rosemary struggles to understand their secretive behavior, she also wonders at the strange whistling she occasionally hears upon the mountainside, and the eerie fox-like creature that she has seen appear and disappear in the mist...

This engaging children's novel combines the classic family drama, in which the outsider must win her place in the family circle, with an exciting adventure story, full of mystery and a hint of the supernatural. Like The Castle Family or September Island, it is well-written and well-paced, and even the moments of high drama seem completely natural. Although Fry's work does not stir a strong emotional response in me, I find that her novels have the ability to charm with seemingly simple events and ordinary people.

Like her novel Snowed Up, this was illustrated by Robin Jacques, whose work will always have a certain appeal for me, probably because I associate it with Ruth Manning-Sanders' wonderful folklore collections.

The only child of a baronet, Richenda was content with her mostly solitary life at their family castle, home of the Barlow family since 1373. But when her father hired a widowed mother of two as the new assistant for his Alpine nursery, and the entire Browning family moved into the adjacent lodge, Richenda soon found herself fast friends with the daughter, Annabel. As the two girls embarked upon a series of adventures, from restoring an old folly to searching for the legendary lost Barlow "treasure," a different kind of drama was unfolding between their parents...

This short novel offers a quiet but engaging family story, well-written and well-paced. The occasional moments of excitement are worked so seamlessly into the narrative, that the overall effect is somehow one of engaged tranquility. Fry's affection for her characters, particularly Richenda and her dog Andy, is quite clear, and the end-product is an endearing family story.

Like Fry's September Island, this title is also illustrated by the wonderful Margery Gill, one of my favorite children's novel illustrators.

Snowed Up, an engaging adventure story for middle-grade readers, follows the story of three cousins - Anna, Brian and Verity - who find themselves stranded at an isolated cottage in the Welsh countryside during a blizzard. Their adventure, while never approaching too close to hardship, does teach each of the three children something about their unexpected and untapped inner resources. There is a particularly lovely "Christmas" scene towards the end of the novel.

I was delighted to discover that Snowed Up had been illustrated by Robin Jacques, perhaps best known for his collaboration on Ruth Manning-Sanders' folklore collections. He also illustrated the original editions of Joan Aiken's Black Hearts in Battersea and Nightbirds on Nantucket. His work is unmistakable, and my first glimpse of this title provided that rush of pleasure one feels at meeting an old friend in an unexpected place...

I'll conclude by noting that Rosalie K. Fry, like Ruth M. Arthur, seems to be one of those authors whose work has slipped into an undeserved obscurity. In a publishing world that always seems to be scrambling for "fresh" and "new" material, you'd think that someone would think about republishing a few of these out-of-print gems. It worked with L.M. Boston's Green Knowe Chronicles after all...

My obsessive campaign (one of many, I'm afraid) to read all of Rosalie K. Fry's books for children continues with this story of a young boy named Richie, who discovers an ancient sea monster on a remote part of the Scottish coast. The last of his kind, Mungo is a gentle, slow-witted creature who resembles the infamous Loch Ness Monster in appearance. Through him, Richie discovers the secret of Muckle Craig, a small skerry just off-shore, and embarks on a series of adventures...

I am not sure just why this book did not have the same appeal for me that some of Fry's other titles did. The matter-of-fact acceptance of enchantment that a story such as this relies upon, will be familiar to anyone who reads a great deal of anthropomorphic animal-fantasy. Mungo is one of the most believable elements of the book, it is the human characters who strain our suspension of disbelief, particularly Skipper. This is unfortunate, as one of Fry's strengths, in my estimation, is the completely natural tone she usually manages to employ.

There were engaging moments in this short novel, however, which leads me to conclude that it may just be one of those books that is best experienced as a child. The black and white illustrations by Velma Ilsley were something of a disappointment, especially after being spoiled by the likes of Margaret Gill and Robin Jacques in Fry's previous books.

When ten-year-old Zilda comes upon a seemingly abandoned gypsy caravan in an old storage mews, she discovers a source of enchantment that offers some consolation for the dreariness of her grandmother's house. As she and her friend Robert learn the story of the caravan, they become determined to solve the mystery of the "gypsy princess" for whom it was intended...

As I mentioned in my review of Ruth M. Arthur's An Old Magic, the Romany pop up with depressing regularity in children's fiction, usually in the guise of fascinating but slightly dangerous exotics, or as romanticized bohemians. In the latter half of the twentieth century they also began to appear as "misunderstood" victims of ignorance and prejudice, imbued by their (non-Romany) creators with a kind of tragic but impenetrable nobility that is reminiscent of the characterization of Native Americans in some American literature. But whether drawn in a hostile or sympathetic light, these Romany characters are almost invariably portrayed from the outside, and therefore function as the "other," providing a colorful sort of counter-point to the more "settled" main character or characters.

I found that this short novel, which at 90 pages is really more of a chapter book, fell somewhere in the middle of this spectrum. On the one hand, Fry is clearly sympathetic to her subject, and she is careful to have an adult authority figure point out that gypsies are a misunderstood people, who like any other group, comprise both good and bad individuals. A not-so-insignificant statement given that Gypsy Princess was published in 1969.

But it seems odd that Fry chose to use the term "gypsy" so prominently, as she also employs the more correct "Romany," a clear indication that she is familiar (somewhat) with her topic. More importantly, while the resolution of the story makes for a very neat narrative climax, it places the issues of identity and community second to the question of ownership, and paradoxically maintains the Romany as the "other."

While this was a pleasant enough read, with pleasant but unremarkable illustrations, it lacks the power to stir the emotions or stimulate the intellect. In short, unlike some other Fry titles, I do not mourn the fact that it is out-of-print, and I would really only recommend it to people interested in the portrayal of the Romany in children's literature. Sounds like a fascinating essay topic!

Young Martin had always wanted to be an explorer, and longs for a grand adventure - one that will bring him that "moment of delight" of which his father likes to speak. But what sort of adventure can an eleven-year-old boy have on caravan holiday, when his six-year-old sister Linda and his spoiled city-dog Ben are always tagging along? With an unexpected storm, a flooded river and estuary, and a stranded witch-girl-writer, quite an extraordinary one, as it turns out!

I first came across the children's author Rosalie K. Fry after seeing the movie The Secret of Roan Inish, which is based upon her novel, Secret of the Ron Mor Skerry (now sadly renamed after the movie...). As someone who loves folktales and stories about selkies, I was immediately captivated, and decided to seek out other books by this excellent, but now mostly forgotten, writer. Imagine my delight when I found September Island, which has the added charm of being illustrated by that wonderful artist Margery Gill, whose work graces most of the Ruth M. Arthur novels, as well as Over Sea, Under Stone by Susan Cooper.

This short novel was a pleasure to read, and served as a welcome reminder to me that children's books don't have to be epic-quest fantasies, or terribly serious "issue-driven" novels, to communicate something valuable about the state of childhood. I sometimes think that as adults, we look back upon childhood as a magical time, full of extraordinary discovery and high emotion. We forget that from the child's perspective, life can seem like a flat expanse, too infrequently punctuated by moments of extreme wonder. That childish longing for adventure, for the extraordinary, for "something to happen," is so perfectly expressed in September Island, that the fulfillment of the desire is deeply satisfying...