4.5★
“‘Do you know who I am?’ she asks in her pretend human voice. You can tell straight off it isn’t a real voice because there’s no deepness to it. Not one of us looks at her. Not one of us even breathes, just in case she can suck our souls straight from our mouths and into her own.”
Chapter one begins by saying “The End”. Twig is in a dark so dark he isn’t sure he exists, and then a big, buzzing neon sign flashes “WELCOME TO THE AFTERLIFE!”. While he watches, it flickers with bulbs going out until it reads
“WE COME TO LIFE!”
That’s not helpful to Twig nor to us, and his head hurts and he keeps remembering bits of things until a red arrow lights up, pointing to a path with still more signs to a “WELCOME CENTER”, so off he goes.
A motley bunch of bones falls from the sky and assembles itself into Krruk, a raven who could be called the comic relief. Once he pulls himself together, literally, he explains that he has always been Twig’s guardian.
“‘You won’t remember all those times durin’ your alive years that you saw a raven guidin’ you through the trials and tribulations of livin’ because of the Forgettin’ that happens once you’re . . . well . . . dead, like. But, if I do say, I was quite magnificent.’”
Krruk waffles on until Twig asks a question.
“Twig looked at the skeleton bobbing up and down. ‘So it was your job to keep me . . . alive?’
‘Exactly!’
‘But, I’m . . . dead, right?’
‘That you are. Oh. Right. Well. I see what you’re gettin’ at.’”
Twig wants only to find his Da, his father, who has been involved in some shady dealings to keep them alive and they got separated. Twig doesn’t really know what’s happened, but he is desperate to go back and not forget.
The story moves between life and afterlife with Twig telling the life story and the narrator describing in the third person what becomes his quest to fight the "forgetting". Maps, clues, riddles, magic. It’s all very spooky! There are rules to keep it honest, so to speak. He can’t just “magic” his way anywhere. And he certainly does face some scary moments on both sides of the divide.
Krruk may be a loyal sidekick in the afterlife adventure, but in the real part, Twig becomes a street kid with a group of little kids who form a family. They scrounge, they beg, they steal. They are the urchins of Dickens on the lookout for cops at all times. Dirty, hungry, cold, loyal to each other and to anyone who is kind to them.
Flea becomes a favourite friend and a wonderful character.
“‘Why do they call you Twiggy anyway?’
I shrug. Why is anyone called anything?
‘Is it because you’re skinny as a twig? Or because you were born under a tree? Or is it because you like to eat those twiggy stick things they sell down the markets? Is Twiggy even a proper name?’
This kid talks a million miles an hour. It makes me tired listening. ‘I’ve just always been called Twig.’
‘Oh. That’s boring. I’m Flea.’
I don’t point out that Flea isn’t much of a proper name either.
I look at Flea’s face and clothes and hair and bracelets. ‘So, are you a boy?’
Flea shrugs. ‘Sometimes. And sometimes I’m a girl. And sometimes I’m both at the same time or neither. Mostly I’m just somewhere in between.’”
Twiggy and the others never question this. Flea is just Flea. Flea uses a Magic 8-ball to help make decisions along with a special ‘seeing stone’ with a hole in it. I enjoyed seeing the Magic 8-ball answers again! ‘It is certain’.
Nothing is certain except the determination of these children against crooks and evil-doers and a world that ignores them.
“‘Welcome to the Boneyard!’ Flea smiles, arms spread wide, and I stop and stare. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like a town all of its own. There are shacks built up between every grave, huddled in clumps and leaning into each other.”
I have such a soft spot for stories told by kids trying to find their feet. They say that most successful children’s stories begin with the main character as an orphan, which may be what captures the imagination of kids.
It must be the scariest thing we worry about when we’re little but also the thing we want most – absolute freedom from grown-ups. But then we want safety, too, so reading about Twig and the others is satisfyingly scary.
For grown-up readers, it’s a fable about the world today. In the (Australian) author’s note, she writes:
“It is estimated that there are approximately 150 million children currently living on the streets. That means there are more children who are homeless, than the entire populations of Australia, the UK, The Republic of Ireland, New Zealand, Canada and Greece combined.
. . .
A single voice really can change the world. No matter how small a person, no matter how small an act, what we do, where we look, what we remember, it all matters. Fight the forgetting.”
Thanks to NetGalley and Hachette Australia for the preview copy I enjoyed.