A lonely young girl adopts an exotic cat, whose dead first owner reappears as a kindly ghost to teach the girl and the cat a lesson about friendship and love. By the author of On My Honor. Reprint.
Marion Dane Bauer is the author of more than one hundred books for young people, ranging from novelty and picture books through early readers, both fiction and nonfiction, books on writing, and middle-grade and young-adult novels. She has won numerous awards, including several Minnesota Book Awards, a Jane Addams Peace Association Award for RAIN OF FIRE, an American Library Association Newbery Honor Award for ON MY HONOR, a number of state children's choice awards and the Kerlan Award from the University of Minnesota for the body of her work.
She is also the editor of and a contributor to the ground-breaking collection of gay and lesbian short stories, Am I Blue? Coming Out from the Silence.
Marion was one of the founding faculty and the first Faculty Chair for the Master of Fine Arts in Writing for Children and Young Adults program at Vermont College of Fine Arts. Her writing guide, the American Library Association Notable WHAT'S YOUR STORY? A YOUNG PERSON'S GUIDE TO WRITING FICTION, is used by writers of all ages. Her books have been translated into more than a dozen different languages.
She has six grandchildren and lives in St. Paul, Minnesota, with her partner and a cavalier King Charles spaniel, Dawn.
------------------------------------- INTERVIEW WITH MARION DANE BAUER -------------------------------------
Q. What brought you to a career as a writer?
A. I seem to have been born with my head full of stories. For almost as far back as I can remember, I used most of my unoccupied moments--even in school when I was supposed to be doing other "more important" things--to make up stories in my head. I sometimes got a notation on my report card that said, "Marion dreams." It was not a compliment. But while the stories I wove occupied my mind in a very satisfying way, they were so complex that I never thought of trying to write them down. I wouldn't have known where to begin. So though I did all kinds of writing through my teen and early adult years--letters, journals, essays, poetry--I didn't begin to gather the craft I needed to write stories until I was in my early thirties. That was also when my last excuse for not taking the time to sit down to do the writing I'd so long wanted to do started first grade.
Q. And why write for young people?
A. Because I get my creative energy in examining young lives, young issues. Most people, when they enter adulthood, leave childhood behind, by which I mean that they forget most of what they know about themselves as children. Of course, the ghosts of childhood still inhabit them, but they deal with them in other forms--problems with parental authority turn into problems with bosses, for instance--and don't keep reaching back to the original source to try to fix it, to make everything come out differently than it did the first time. Most children's writers, I suspect, are fixers. We return, again and again, usually under the cover of made-up characters, to work things through. I don't know that our childhoods are necessarily more painful than most. Every childhood has pain it, because life has pain in it at every stage. The difference is that we are compelled to keep returning to the source.
Q. You write for a wide range of ages. Do you write from a different place in writing for preschoolers than for young adolescents?
A. In a picture book or board book, I'm always writing from the womb of the family, a place that--while it might be intruded upon by fears, for instance--is still, ultimately, safe and nurturing. That's what my own early childhood was like, so it's easy for me to return to those feelings and to recreate them. When I write for older readers, I'm writing from a very different experience. My early adolescence, especially, was a time of deep alienation, mostly from my peers but in some ways from my family as well. And so I write my older stories out of that pain, that longing for connection. A story has to have a problem at its core. No struggle
At eighty-two pages—including many full-page illustrations by 1985 Caldecott Medalist Trina Schart Hyman—Ghost Eye is not a long book, but Marion Dane Bauer imbues the story with dimension and feeling for the brief time we're under its spell. Purrloom Popcorn, a white Cornish rex cat, lives a relatively charmed life. His blue eye contrasts with his gold eye to grab the attention of judges everywhere at professional cat shows. Other cats plead for attention, but Popcorn regards the judges with aloofness, and rarely fails to take top prize. Yet cat shows weren't always Popcorn's life. He once lived with an old woman named Lydia in a mansion of cats, though Popcorn was a special favorite. When Lydia had to leave home in deference to the disease consuming her body, Popcorn was taken from her by managers to compete in cat shows. The skinny Cornish rex couldn't grasp why his beloved lady deserted him, but he hoped for a reunion until his memory of Lydia faded. Popcorn forgot he ever knew or wanted the caress of human hands, convincing himself he had always lived to win cat shows. He was a natural at being the most striking feline in any room.
After Lydia dies, change comes quickly. Popcorn is shipped to Lydia's mansion, where the old woman's grandniece Melinda and her parents are moving in. Leaving friends, school, and her old home would be a bitter pill for Melinda were she not looking forward to adopting her aunt's Cornish rex. Melinda has long wanted a cat, but she's taken aback by Popcorn, who looks more like a rat. His dual-color eyes are extraordinary, but Popcorn's disdain for Melinda is clear. Angry and hurt, she open his cat carrier to let him walk out the front door if he wants. Melinda doesn't want a pet who treats her with contempt.
The streets can be a scary, cruel place, and a soaked and filthy Popcorn eventually returns to the mansion despite the unnerving secret he discovered before leaving: the ghosts of all Lydia's cats live here. Through Popcorn's blue eye, he sees spirits as they freely come and go. The ghost cats are joined by Lydia herself, and seeing the old woman triggers Popcorn's memories of his happy life before fixating on cat shows. Popcorn wants to jump into Lydia's lap and feel loved again, but she and her ghost pets are only shadows of what was, impossible to touch. In despair, Popcorn decides that returning to the world of cat shows is for the best, but will Melinda and her parents arrive at the same conclusion? Even the superficial pleasure of dominating at cat shows may be irretrievable, but perhaps there's something better. If Popcorn can swallow his pride, and Melinda forget her fantasies of owning the perfect cat, maybe they can find happiness together. It's never too late to relearn how to love.
Marion Dane Bauer is gifted at evoking emotional response in her stories. When Popcorn is originally left to figure out life without Lydia, wanting to remember the woman but limited by his feline memory, the heartache feels real, as it does when Popcorn comes face to face with Lydia's ghost and their connection floods back to him. The momentary joy deflates when Popcorn realizes that a living creature can't cuddle with a ghost; he's more alone than ever. "What good did it do to have a ghost eye, to see into a world he couldn't touch? What good did it do to come home, for that matter, when everyone he had ever loved was dead?" It's painful to wish you could be with those you love, only to face the cold truth that they're gone, shadows residing in your memory. Shadows can't fill a heart, not when we need consolation and togetherness in the present. Letting those shadows go is excruciating, but opens us up to embrace what may be right in front of us, ready to make new memories. Real love is a welcome comfort.
Ghost Eye is a good novel; I'd give it two and a half stars and almost round up to three. If it were longer so the emotional narrative could be more fully established, I'd probably do three. Marion Dane Bauer is capable of writing about loss as well as any author I know, and Purrloom Popcorn's story is a wellspring of emotion. I encourage you to give it a read.
I remember this book from when I was a kid. I spent years looking for it. I finally bought it for my own. It will always be a favorite no matter how old I get. It's such a cute book that pulls at my heart strings in places. Maybe I just love animals too much. I hope that when I die, I'll be able to float around a wonderful house with all of my pets.
I revisted this book as it had the distinction of being the only book I re-read from my elementary school's library. A very cute story about loving a weird looking cat. Also I must of very much identified with the young girl with short hair who wanted a cat more than anything.
What a team; I've loved work by both Bauer and Hyman. Art did not disappoint, but maybe I'm getting too jaded for stories from the pet's point of view. Or maybe this story is just too darn short to satisfy me. I do recommend it for interested readers who haven't grown as cynical as I; I'm sure it's the favorite of some fans of ghosts and of cats and of adoption.
It did work for my Halloween read. ;)
"It is probably just as well that humans *don't* understand cats. Their language can be quite rude."
"Loneliness had been like a constant itch beneath his skin, like a hunger for which there was no food."
Purrloom Popcorn's story will draw you in. It's bittersweet and at times quite humorous. Despite its eerie cover, this is not a scary story. I feel like most kids wouldn't have a problem reading this. All the ghosts are Caspers here. And, if I ever come across a cat with different colored eyes I might just stop and wonder what they see. ;)
"Maybe he didn't need his ghost eye anyway. Maybe, all along, he could have seen everything that mattered if he'd only bothered to look."
Popcorn, a show cat, is sent back home when his owner dies and leave him to her great-niece Matilda who has always wanted a cat. He has one gold eye and one bue eye (with which he can see the ghost of his old owner and her ghost cats). Popcorn is distinctive but ugly and spoiled. This is a cute but fairly insipid story about how the cat and girl learn to love each other. Black and white line drawings by Trina Schart Hyman are the main redeeming feature of this book and add a certain ghostly and humorous charm.
Bauer and Hyman are two of my favorite children's book creators, so when I saw their names on a cat book, I had to have it! Hyman's haunting illustrations draw you in, as always. Bauer has written a cat story with real character growth, which is so tricky. Popcorn is the perfect haughty show cat. His perspective plus the ghost element makes this completely different from any other cat book. I enjoyed every minute; just wish it was longer.
Better than I remembered, this ghost story with cats explores the theme of family from a cat's perspective. Definite heart-strings in this poignant tale with a quirky voice. Gorgeous ink illustrations by the incomparable Trina Schart Hyman.
This is a very strange tale about a an odd cat. The story is interesting, especially if you like ghost stories, but it took us forever to read it. We only read a chapter at most each night. I'm not really sure why; I just didn't get into the story or feel connected to the characters.
Still, I'm sure it would appeal to older elementary school-age children and middle-grade readers who like ghost stories that aren't too scary. We enjoyed reading this book together.
I remember reading this book in the 3rd grade. I have always been an animal lover so I believe this may have been why I took to this book so much. I was/still really into drawing back then and I remember drawing the house from this book and giving it to my teacher at the time. Crazy how I still remember these things
I read the book a lot of years ago. I don’t remember it too well but I do remember the feeling on not liking it so much. It was kind of boring and now every time I hear one of my cats’ meows I wonder if they are saying something mean.