There is a Portugese word, saudade, having to do with absence and melancholy, that unites happiness and sadness, happiness in the idea or memory of someone or something that is not there. To me, saudade is the comforting, aching sound of a distant train whistle in the middle of the night; it is the thought of paths taken and not taken, the knowledge of permanent incompleteness.
Train I Ride, the beautiful new novel by Paul Mosier, is all about saudade.
This is one of the very best middle grade books I have read in a long time. In its themes, plot, and main character, it reminds me of Dicey's Song (a nearly perfect book), but for all its painful moments is more gentle than that classic, more simply written, more soulful, and is often quite funny. Rydr is a twelve-year-old who knows that "lots of things that are worth seeing aren't happy things." With her mother and grandmother dead and her father unknown, she has tremendous pain in her life, yet she knows how to appreciate people and moments, whether they are sweet or ugly.
Paul Mosier impressed me in two major ways. The first is that he understands so much of how it is to be a girl, especially a troubled girl on her own. Rydr is in some ways very young, in other ways too old; she is in over her head and meets each challenge sometimes with bafflement and anger, other times with cleverness and humor. She has had enough (albeit minimal) trusted adults in her life that, refreshingly, she has learned to take good advice. The way Rydr has opportunities to put remembered advice to good use makes the novel's lessons wise without being preachy: it's all about survival, not goodness per se (though I want to be clear that Rydr is a naturally compassionate, generous person). The lives of girls are perilous, and I am grateful to Mosier for giving young readers actual information that they can think about and use. This is probably the most valuable reason to read Train I Ride.
My favorite reason to read the book, though, is that it is set almost entirely on a train. I read it because of the cover (congratulations to the cover artist, by the way, who has exactly expressed Mosier's story); the whole book is, in a way, a love poem to train culture. Mosier perfectly captures the generosity and congeniality of the long-distance train social atmosphere, indeed captures every detail of the Amtrak Southwest Chief. But the train is so much more than just an arbitrary setting, and so much more than a metaphor for a journey. Set in any other place, Rydr's tale would have been just another one in a thousand orphan stories, perhaps more gracefully told than the rest, but not genius. Set on the Amtrak, though...! I could write pages about all the different meaningful, wonderful ways the brilliant setting enriches the story. I'll only say here, though, that plot-wise, this story is all about Rydr meeting good people, and there are no better people than those you meet on the train, and no easier way to meet them than having to share a table. Mood-wise, and most wonderfully, the train evokes both haunting melancholy and hopefulness, the meeting place of past and future in an elongated present. It is the perfect place for Rydr, with all her limited resources, in the confines of the coaches, to be given the time to appreciate where she comes from and who she is, and choose who she wants to be.
I devoured this book in three and a half hours. It's brevity and simplicity are deceptive, though; there is a whole lot to this novel, a lot to appreciate and discuss. I'll be enthusiastically recommending it to adults and to kids age 8-13 (or older if they like shorter books and simpler language).