In Michael Bunker's “Pennsylvania”, we briefly met Donavan Yoder--a young man divided. Born in the Amish Zone, he was raised to embrace a plain, peaceful life. After he grows up, Donavan becomes an officer with the Transport Authority, the tyrannical government grinding New Pennsylvania under its iron boot. Eventually, his conscience leads him to side with TRACE, the resistance group fighting Transport for the freedom of the entire planet. Donavan has made some tough choices in his life. What ultimately drove him to sympathize with the very rebels he'd fought to subdue?
D.K. Cassidy has been scribbling stories since she was a child and loves to write in various genres including Magical Realism, Urban Gothic, Science Fiction, and Literary Fiction. She has a B.A. in English Literature from the University of Washington.
D.K. Cassidy lives in the Pacific Northwest with her greatest fans: her husband Mark, twin sons Aidan and Jared, and three cats. When not writing, she loves to travel, run, knit, use the Oxford comma, and of course read!
This book blends the calm, hard-working yet peaceful existence of the Amish community with futuristic travel to other worlds.
You can’t help but like Donavan. He loves his cow, he loves a girl and yet he decides to leave both for a nine-month spell in the city, knowing he won’t be coming back. From here he travels to New Pennsylvania – a journey of nine light years but during which he ages just one week – without a second’s thought for his parents back in the Amish community of horse and carts and barn building and milking cows. I’m not being flippant. This really is quite endearing.
What makes this work is the excellent writing style employed by Cassidy. She entices the reader to her story with the manner in which she relates to the reader, revealing not only her personality and her voice, but also the respect she has for the audience. Indeed, this conceptual writing style moulds the overall character of this work.
The story is about an illegal alien, disappearing into a family network set up decades (or maybe generations) ago, yet tugging at the edge of my consciousness I can’t help but wonder if there isn’t a hidden depth to the book, a buried metaphor if you like, that is just out of grasping distance. This is a very clever book, written in an honest style, and I would implore readers to buy a copy. You won’t regret it.
DONOVAN is a short story from the point of view of a boy looking to leave his Amish background and travel off world to become "English". He hides his past and looks for friendly help from others who have taken a similar journey. It's a great little story that had me interested from the blurb and first page. I enjoyed it immensely and would recommend to others. D. K Cassidy has a way of making you want to know more and is an excellent story teller. Great story.
Must Read Donovan is a young mad who is forced to make tough choices in his life. Leaving behind the peaceful life in Amish country to join forces with a group of rebels he never dreamed he would side with. Wonderfully written and hard to put down.
Donavan by D.K. Cassidy is a compelling, touching, emotional read. The words on the page drew me in instantly. This boy's tale stirred feelings deep down inside and I read with great vigor.
The author has the keen ability to draw readers in with her realistic dialog and clear writing style.
Would Donavan follow in his parents footsteps? Questions lurked in the background, wishing this young man would follow his own path and go after his dreams though, not all is as it seems as this story develops.
Donavan has an unusual plot line that will suck you in. I loved the suspenseful turns that had me eating this up, wanting more.
I highly recommend adding Donavan to your reading list.
I have read a few books by D. K. Cassidy, and I have loved every one of them. She writes stories that stand out amongst a sea of similar writings, and her books never leave you feeling like you’ve read it before. Her characters are always unique, and inspiring. Their tiny quirks make them so realistic that you slowly fall in love with them. The story Donavan is no different. This young man holds his own as the main character in this story, even though he was only a minor character in the larger novel.
His love for his cow, and the young girl he fancies, is inspiring. I feel D. K. captures the beauty of the Amish world, even while Donovan is running from it.
I look forward to reading more books by this author. She surely has become one of my favorites.
I happened upon this short story on recommendation of a friend. It is a quick read, interesting from the standpoint of contrasting traditional Amish with a futuristic world of drones and space travel to distant realities. This story plucks one character out of another larger work and elaborates on that character. Not having read the larger work, I was somewhat adrift, yet, it provided an entertaining few "escape" moments out of my otherwise busy day. Well illustrated. Enjoyable.
Whether or not you happen to be a science-fiction buff, you should find this story particularly touching and engrossing. Fast-moving but taking the time to establish character with just a few deft strokes of inspiration, "Donavan" is a sweet coming-of-age story that you won't soon forget.
I’m binge reviewing my best read sci-fi shorts in the last 20 odd years.
When I first entered Michael Bunker’s Pennsylvania, it felt like stepping into a sepia photograph that refused to stay still. A world where the simplicity of the Amish past tangled with the debris of a technological future — not quite dystopia, not quite utopia, but something eerily human in between. Donavan, the spin-off that blooms within this world, is less an extension and more an echo — quieter, more personal, the way memory carries the timbre of a voice long after the person has walked away.
Reading it felt like revisiting a dream, I had once woken from too early. It is not a story about events as much as it is about thresholds — between faith and rebellion, silence and signal, old Earth and the digital ruins of ambition.
The thing about Donavan is that it does not try to impress you. It waits. It’s like an old man whittling wood by the fire, muttering fragments of a story you’re half-invited to overhear. If Pennsylvania was the rebellion of ideas — the clash between the amish off-gridders and the technocratic world they resisted — then Donavan is the rebellion of being. It asks, what does a man become when the system collapses and faith becomes the only remaining technology?
The first time I met Donavan — or rather, when his voice arrived on the page — I thought I was meeting a survivor. But as the story went on, I realized I was meeting a philosopher in disguise. There’s a kind of weathering to him, a blend of stoicism and haunted gentleness, that made me think of men who live too long among machines and still insist on praying before starting the generator. He’s not trying to save the world. He’s trying to remember why it mattered in the first place.
In Bunker’s original Pennsylvania, there was a grand architecture of narrative — vast fields, high tensions, ideological conflicts between those who wanted to preserve purity and those seduced by progress. It was a novel of world-making and fracture. Donavan, by contrast, feels like the ghost left behind in one of those empty farmhouses after everyone else has fled. The landscape is quieter, the dialogue almost austere, yet every sentence trembles with the awareness of history. You can still hear the hum of the old machines somewhere beyond the horizon, but the story’s pulse is slower now — more interior, like prayer disguised as prose.
There’s something inherently sacred about the way Bunker’s world works — not religious sacredness, but existential reverence. In Donavan, the language itself becomes a liturgy. Every act — planting seeds, fixing a tool, choosing not to kill — becomes a kind of ceremony of being alive. The apocalypse, in Bunker’s world, is not loud. It’s devotional. It’s a silence that listens back.
I found myself rereading certain passages not for clarity, but for stillness. The rhythm of the prose pulls you inward, asking you to sit with discomfort — the way loneliness seeps into the soil, how faith mutates when it’s cut off from community. Donavan’s solitude reminded me of the biblical wanderers — Abraham, Job, maybe even Christ in the desert. He’s not searching for salvation; he’s negotiating with silence. The story keeps returning to that negotiation, repeatedly, as if language itself were the only bridge left between the self and the sacred.
What struck me most was how Donavan takes the logic of Pennsylvania — that duality of technology versus simplicity — and internalizes it. Where Pennsylvania staged its conflicts in wide, external gestures, Donavan turns the same tension inward. The machinery now is memory, guilt, and belief. It’s as though the rebellion has already happened, and what remains is the quiet aftermath, the moral hangover. Every choice Donavan makes feels like a remnant of a greater war already lost, and yet somehow, he keeps moving. There’s a profound dignity in that — in continuing when the narrative of hope has expired.
One night, while reading, I paused on a line where Donavan looks at the stars and wonders whether God still sees him. The question shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. However, it did, because Bunker’s world — and by inheritance, this story’s world — erases the comfort of divine oversight. The heavens are silent, the fields are dying, and yet there’s a stubborn tenderness in how Donavan keeps showing up. That, I think, is the book’s secret theology: to persist without applause. To build without promise. To love without witness.
There’s a minimalist poetry to the book that reminded me of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, but scrubbed clean of its overt despair. Instead of nihilism, there’s something raw and oddly hopeful — not the optimism of victory, but the endurance of meaning. If McCarthy’s world is a furnace, Bunker’s is a slow, aching winter. Donavan walks through that winter with a strange grace, carrying the weight of a civilization that once believed it could control the world, and now must relearn how to belong to it.
I kept thinking about the Amish metaphor — how their rejection of technology isn’t simply anti-modern but deeply philosophical. It’s a refusal to surrender the soul to convenience. In Pennsylvania, that theme was intellectual and ideological; in Donavan, it’s deeply personal. You feel the cost of simplicity. You feel the ache of choosing slowness in a world built for speed. Donavan’s entire arc is, in a sense, a meditation on restraint — on what it means to hold back when the entire world has already let go.
And yet, the story doesn’t romanticize his restraint. It’s honest about the cracks — the temptation, the exhaustion, the absurdity of trying to live ethically in a system designed to break you. At times, I found myself arguing with Donavan, wanting him to compromise, to adapt, to cheat a little. But that’s the genius of the book — it makes you complicit. It asks, again and again, what kind of world you would rebuild if given the chance. A world of utility, or a world of truth?
Somewhere around the midpoint, the prose takes a tonal shift. The language grows leaner, as if even words are becoming a luxury. Dialogues thin out, replaced by meditative fragments. Donavan begins to resemble not a man, but a voice etched into the landscape. And that’s when it hit me — this isn’t a narrative of survival. It’s a chronicle of transformation. Donavan is shedding the last remnants of civilization, of identity, even of language, until what remains is a kind of primordial consciousness. He becomes one with the land, with the silence, with the absence of noise that modernity left behind.
This is what makes Donavan so much more than a side story. It’s a philosophical deepening of Pennsylvania — a kind of footnote that becomes the main text. Where Pennsylvania explored rebellion as an act, Donavan redefines rebellion as existence itself. To live simply in a world addicted to complexity becomes an act of defiance. To hope becomes heresy. And yet, the story never preaches. It simply shows — and trusts the reader to see.
There is a passage near the end where Donavan rebuilds a simple tool, something his ancestors might have used centuries ago. The prose doesn’t glorify the act; it documents it with reverence. You feel the weight of the gesture — how making, in itself, becomes a prayer. That small scene carries the full metaphysical burden of the book: creation as redemption. I remember closing the book then, letting that image linger — a man, alone, making something by hand while the world forgets him. It felt strangely contemporary, a mirror to our own digital fatigue. In Donavan’s slow persistence, I saw the antidote to our speed.
What fascinates me is how Bunker’s world — and the worlds it inspires — refuses neat resolution. The narrative doesn’t end with triumph or tragedy. It ends with continuity — a man walking on, a candle still burning, a world neither saved nor destroyed but remembered. That’s the haunting beauty of Donavan: it doesn’t demand catharsis. It offers endurance.
There’s a quiet postmodern irony here too. The story, rooted in an anti-technological ethos, is itself a product of digital publishing — a small rebellion against the industrial machinery of mainstream literature. Reading it on a screen felt paradoxical, almost sacrilegious, but also fitting. It made me aware of my own complicity — how easily we consume the handmade through the mass-produced. And maybe that’s part of the experience. To read Donavan is to confront that contradiction: to yearn for authenticity while scrolling through simulacra.
By the time I finished the story, I realized that Donavan isn’t a character anymore. He is an idea — a fragment of a future that refuses to surrender to despair. The last few pages dissolve almost into poetry, filled with absences, pauses, and the weight of unsaid things. I remember closing the book and feeling that peculiar silence that only good literature leaves — the kind that hums under your skin for hours after.
In the end, Donavan doesn’t answer the big questions — it lives them. It does not tell you how to rebuild the world; it shows you what it feels like to inhabit the ruins with dignity. It teaches you that progress isn’t always forward, and that sometimes, the most radical act is to stay put. In an age where movement equals meaning, Donavan’s stillness becomes a revolution.
There’s a moment — a fleeting one — where he speaks of forgiveness, not as a religious act but as a surrender to time. That’s when I understood the entire book: it’s not about survival, or faith, or rebellion. It’s about reconciliation — between the human and the world, the self and silence, the old and the unborn. The apocalypse, as Donavan reveals, is never an ending. It’s just the world reminding us to listen again.
When I closed the final page, I did not feel finished. I felt recalibrated — slower, quieter, slightly ashamed of my own speed. I thought of Bunker’s Pennsylvania, of the sprawling rebellion, and then of this — a small, quiet sequel that feels like a prayer whispered into static.
If Pennsylvania was about freedom, Donavan is about belonging. It is the sound of civilization exhaling, the long sigh after the storm.
And maybe that’s the truest rebellion of all — to be gentle when the world teaches you only to fight.
Set in the world that Michael Bunker created in his series “Pennsylvania”, this book tells the story of a character that plays a small, but important, part. Here a Transport officer, Donavan, is brought to life.
Ms. Cassidy did not rely on what I like to call the “superhero model” in creating her character. Donavan doesn't leave his home, journey to a new planet, and side with a resistance group because he is committed to a set of ideals or has a plan to benefit all of mankind. He’s motivated by curiosity, restlessness, and boredom. His feelings get hurt, and he can’t let go of his attraction to the female responsible for that. He makes impulsive decisions based largely on a slew of emotions. He’s young and lacks patience, but puts his best effort into the job before him. His youth and lack of life experiences, in addition to the brevity of the book, mean that his character lacks some depth. All of these elements combine to form a realistic and believable character. While I can’t say I got to know him well, I could understand him and the reasons for his choices and actions. I think he is portrayed with just enough detail to tell the story of his all too short life. His story is neatly woven into the world and original characters of the Pennsylvania series.
This book is basically well written, but the narrative could flow a bit smoother. There are several points where the scene, location, time, or point of view changes abruptly from one paragraph to the next. The result is confusion that could be avoided by inserting breaks between paragraphs to indicate a change. Otherwise, the writing and editing are well done.
If you are a fan of the Pennsylvania series, you will enjoy reading this story. Note: I received a copy of this book from the author in return for an honest review.
D.K. Cassidy’s ‘Donavan’ is a well written, fast moving and easy to read short story. I am not into sci-fi and totally unfamiliar with the work of Michael Bunker. I have, however, read books about the Amish and am always fascinated by their culture and beliefs. At the onset of this book, I was prepared to read what I considered to be a traditional story steeped in Amish traditions anticipating a beautiful love story. Love usually conquers all or so I like to believe.
Cassidy’s book did not disappoint me at all. It has all the ingredients of a traditional love story; the kind that appears to be doomed from the start. We learn early on that Donavan is seeking something he will never find in Pennsylvania and expects to find in New Pennsylvania. But he still hopes that Dawn, the love of his life, will join him. He explains to her, “I want to understand how they think. Whenever I see them at the Market, they seem happy.”
In developing her futuristic world, Cassidy convinces readers of its reality. Donavan eventually finds happiness and despite the sci-fi elements of the story line, his search follows a very traditional approach to love; one that would be recognized by people in all cultures and backgrounds.
I really enjoyed this story and highly recommend it.
At the beginning of this great read, we meet Donavan Yoder, a member of the Amish community, but a bit of a loner. His great pleasures are milking his cow, Sarah, and singing, and his unrequited passion is for Dawn Rayburn, whom he has grown up with in the Amish community. Irked as he is by the 'ordnung' rules of his community, at the age of eighteen he goes to the Amish colony on New Pennsylvania for a period of 'rumspringa' where he can spend time in the wider community, so that he can choose his preferred way of life. But he meets even greater challenges as the story progresses, set as it is in a futuristic/fantasy world. There is a great fusing of a touching examination of old-fashioned values set against the allure of the modern 'outside' world, together with a futuristic tale of a tyrannical government and a revolutionary movement. Donavan rings true as a character, and the author's skill blends the disparate elements of the story into a coherent, gripping read. Check this one out. You won't be disappointed.
Verified Purchase(What's this?) This review is from: Donavan: From Michael Bunker's World of "PENNSYLVANIA" (Kindle Edition) Having not read Michael Bunker's PENNSYLVANIA I have no idea how D.K. Cassidy's short story relates to the novel. This said I enjoyed the Si Fi short story and it made me want to read the book. Ms Cassidy's writing is crisp and let's the characters tell their own story. The idea that a young Amish man seeking freedom can love two things in his life - a woman and a cow - is a great concept - maybe more so for me as I spent many wonderful days as a young man on my grandfather's farm. I also had many Amish and Mennonite friends. The story sets the scene for what many feel might be our fate for the future. It is a short and enjoyable read with a bit of tease.
Donavan is a "quiet" science fiction story - no huge space battles or warring empires, just an intimate story that expands on the background of Donavan Yoder - a character from Michael Bunker's Pennsylvania novel. Cassidy has woven a nice tale that gives an insight into his background and his motivations for helping the resistance.
The book definitely adds to the Pennsylvania world and if you're looking for another fix of Amish science fiction, give this one a go.
“Donavan” by DK Cassidy is an impressive short story about a young man in Pennsylvania. Coming from simple pleasures, such as cow milking, and innocent friendship, Amish life and peace, he moves to a brave new world, where the story contrasts futuristic elements and a different life. Character study, coming of age and thoughtful reflection on inner values and society this is a well written novella of literary quality that left me pondering about it for some time after reading.
I found this an extremely entertaining book. A very interesting and compelling Sci-Fi story that I felt really satisfied after reading. It is the first Science Fiction book that I read that had a main character who is Amish! It was fascinating following his journey into a new world of adventure and love. A beautiful coming of age tale!
A Science fiction coming of age novel with an Amish main character? Yeah, that's what I thought when I heard about it but boy was I wrong. I loved the depth of the story and highly recommend this. I read Spilt Milk and will be reading more by this author!
'Donovan' might sound like a Pennsylvania's spin-off - and I learned not to expect anything really exctigin from a spin-off. Nevertheless, I was really impressed by the story author Cassidy delivered.
Starting from Donovan's decision to leave his life - all that was "safe" for him - the plot deploys along a world projected in the future. It was fascinating to me to see how the imaginative Cassidy's mind pictured the US, with new habits, new technologies and a new culture/subculture raising in the background.
Donovan's story, on the other hand, is an engaging love story that involves also a personal character's development. I liked the writing style (and the descriptions) and the fact that the author leaves to the readers' imagination some details. I like being involved in the construction of a story.
It's the second book I read by author Cassidy and again even this lovely short story (it's a novelette) didn't disappoint me. Go check it out.
Another well-written short story from D.K. Cassidy. I especially enjoyed this story since my family roots can be traced back to the plain people. A quick, engaging read. This story left many things unsaid--leaving the reader to fill in, adding to the story as you read along, and at its end. I would love to see a novel length book or series built around the interesting elements set out in this story. The outlines of the social, technological and cultural 'world' set out here, in particular the contrast between Old Pennsylvania and New Pennsylvania, is evocative. The relationship between Dawn & Donavan filled with potential for more, too. A recommended read for those who enjoy scifi/speculative fiction/fantasy.
I haven't read the other work, so I just felt this book was very short. It skipped years where I would have liked more detail. And I didn't feel connected to Donavan.
But, I did like the concept; Amish vs ultra modern society.