Update: I read this one again for a book group discussion and I still love it. I have a few more passages to remember this time around.
"Well," the old man smiled, "I make money using my brains and lose money listening to my heart. But in the long run my books balance pretty well."
"But tractors go faster than Jancsi's old white horses!" pouted Kate.
"Let them. I want to walk slowly behind the plow; I want to have time to feel the soft, crumbling soil under my feet, to smell its rich, moist smell. I want to have time to look at the flowers by the fence, the blue sky above, to listen to the birds and the song of the wind. I don't want a machine puffing black smoke into God's clean air, crushing birds' nests under its cold steel claws, roaring 'Hurry-hurry-hurry' into my ears. When day is done, I want to be able to say: 'Well done, old friend,' to my horse, rub him clean, feed him sweet-smelling hay, golden oats, and fresh water. At night I want to breathe the clean air of the plains and hear the small noises contented animals make, instead of smelling stale oil and listening to the dead silence of stilled machinery."
"Then, not waiting for any more questions, he was prattling for all he was worth, words gushing out of him. The farm, Father, Kate, Lily, his herd, the dogs, Uncle Moses - all he loved came to life to these strange listeners whose number grew as he talked on. He didn't know that in this railroad town whence thousands of singing men went away every day and into which hundreds of silent, maimed ones were sent back, his words had created a little island of almost forgotten peace. Men and women, young and old were living, for a few brief moments, on a sun-drenched farm, far, far away from the dreadful roaring of guns."
"The book (Father's journal) had become a tower of strength for them. It was part of Father, and even if they knew every word of it by heart, reading it brought Father into the old kitchen."
"Oh, no. This is another Christmas Eve, and the Christ Child must not find hate in our hearts. Only pity for those who are responsible, for there is no man on earth wicked enough to have knowingly unleashed this power of darkness upon mankind."
Knowingly, no. But it was loose, this power called the war, and while it was roaming the earth no one could hold peace and happiness for long. It still demanded heartbreak and tears and helpless suffering from all those whose lives it couldn't take.
"After the fresh troops went into action, an American general in Flanders wrote in his book: 'Lost ten thousand men. Advanced three miles.' Mother was writing too. She wrote:
Lottie, six years old, weighs 35 pounds
Marie, six years old, weighs 37
Pauline, six years old, weighs 40
Hans, twelve years old, weighs 65
Paul, twelve years old, weighs 70
Johann, eleven years old, weighs 62
When on July 6, 1917, the general sent a cable to Washington, he said: 'Plans should contemplate sending over at least one million men by next May.'
Mother wrote in her book on the same day: 'All gained at least two pounds.'
On July 17 the general wrote: 'Plans for the future should be based on at least three million men.'
On that day Mother said to Father: 'I have stopped weighing them. They are gaining like little piglets.'
Of these two, keeping records, Mother was far the happier."
Coming to the end of this beautiful story is quite painful as you read the words of hope as WWI comes to an end and Ms. Seredy publishes this book just as WWII is getting a start. I enjoyed The Good Master but this one takes those characters to such a depth, with the village and its people truly becoming a major character that I just fell in love with. And she is not afraid to address the darker themes that led to WWI (a war that we are still fighting on some fronts, in my opinion) and it was so heartbreaking to have her throw around terms like holocaust, with a small h, without understanding what that word would come to mean.. But, if I am going to read a book about war, I want it to be this kind of book with so much hope and love and acceptance. Wait until you get to the actual story of the singing tree, it will make your heart sing as well.
A couple of pretty passages:
"So women were not all gentle, helpless softness, either; they too had a steel armor that would not let them show the tears inside. The last shred of small-boyish pride his new manhood left Jansci then; he was all man now, bowing his head to the strength of a woman."
"No," chuckled Uncle Moses. "The bartering part of running the store is easy to teach. But it will take time to teach my son...when to forget what people owe him. Nobody can learn that out of books."