What do you think?
Rate this book


Audio CD
First published October 17, 2017
…Poe has his addlements and peculiarities. That ain’t to say he’s nobody’s fool, only he don’t do no editions nor suttractions, and he can’t read for squat. But he’s a good boy. He does right by his mother, and he does right by other folks. I believe that’s worth more than ciphers.The Tempest connection, in short, is only the proscenium frame for the ensuing action. Once the curtain is raised, the focus of the book is entirely upon Poe, the gentle giant, and the extraordinary strength and love shown by his mother Rose, who is as different from Shakespeare’s Sycorax as you could imagine. Her first test comes at the age of 16, when she fights the state trying to put her baby into an institution. And she wins:
The judge had seen plenty of hate in his courtroom. […] Love was an emotion he saw less often. He saw how tenderly she held her baby, and he believed she could give him something no one else could. Such a child would never be adopted. Without Rose, he would become a ward of the state in perpetuity.When reading one book, I can never stop thinking of other books as comparisons, and of course I thought about Lenny in Of Mice and Men. Jack Todd writes with much of Steinbeck’s poetic simplicity too. But Poe is an even more sympathetic character than Lenny, and incapable of his violence. Instead of impending tragedy, when reading this book, I felt nothing so much as sweetness. Even on the day when things will begin to go terribly wrong, I never lost my trust in the basic goodness of the story, no matter how subtly Todd tried to shadow the atmosphere:
Poe stoops to lean his great head on Rose’s shoulder, then hoists his fishing pole and tackle box and sets out. A fine morning has tilted on a whiff of breeze-borne minor key into a sullen afternoon and there is the threat of more rain. The sun is filtered through haze that thickens into cloud, and the birds are oddly silent. Everywhere burst milkweed has scattered, and the spidery threads dangle from the maples like Halloween decorations.That fishing trip, though, turns into near-tragedy and unleashes a chain of events that Poe does not have the wit to put right. The Tempest is left far behind. Now I was thinking of a different comparison, To Kill a Mockingbird, without the racial element, but with another court case and all the unthinking bigotry that a small rural town (this one in Northern Maine) can stir up. Jack Todd matches Harper Lee in humanity too; there may only be a few good people in his world, but they make all the difference. By this time, I was feeling firmly in five-star territory. Later, I wondered if the tone might have been a little too sweet, and if the ultimate outcome was too predictable. But then he threw me a few curves I didn’t expect, so five it is.
Here the forest is a tangle of beech and fir and maple trees, leavened with the occasional hackberry or black oak. He pauses where shafts of sunlight pierce the heavy foliage overhead, stands with his arms spread wide, the walking stick upraised. There is magic in this forest. He can feel it. Odd creatures are birthed here, fully formed from the first moments of their existence, luminous and fantastical beasts, scales and skin and fur still damp from their birth, gliding down from the highest branches to caper in the shadows below. For a few moments, he can see them clearly, their lavender stripes, spiraling golden horns, and six-armed bodies. They drift down, their flanks quivering in the breeze.