Note: though this book *could* stand alone, it’s not really
meant to; it’s a prequel to Every Heart a Doorway, which is fantastic and
should be read first. It’s the story of a very special school: Eleanor West’s
Home for Wayward Children. It’s for children who, like Alice Liddell and
Coraline Jones and the Pevensies kids and so on, went through some kind of
magical doorway to an improbable realm whose rules (of manners, logic, and even
physics) were not our own—and then returned to the real world.
Down Among the Sticks and Bones is the backstory of two of
those students, Jack and Jill (or as their extremely rigid parents insist that
they be called at all times, Jacqueline and Jillian) Wolcott. They’re twins,
born to an emotionally-stunted couple with extremely firm and inflexible views
about how children in general and each of their daughters specifically should
behave.
Roles are assigned—Jacqueline is the “girly” one, always
dressed in frilly dresses and terrorized into keeping them perfectly clean (and
into a shyness and timidity that isn’t really natural to her). Jillian, who
seems the more physically active of the two, is designated the "tomboy," encouraged
to go outside and get muddy and given appropriate clothes for that, whether she
likes it or not. Each resents her own role and her twin’s occupation of the
role she thinks she’d prefer, and over the years they grow to dislike one
another.
They do have a loving grandmother who cares for them and
encourages them to love each other and to be exactly who they are, rather than
who their parents want them to be. But she’s banished from their lives on their
5th birthday, never to be seen again. The girls are encouraged to think their beloved grandmother didn't love them enough to stay, and they grow up living with that terrible "knowledge."
Once the story gets properly going, the girls find a magic
staircase in what should have been an old trunk full of dress-up clothes. Of
course they go down it—hundreds, or maybe thousands, of steps down into the
earth. At the bottom they find a door labeled “Be sure.” One twin is definitely
more sure than the other—but nevertheless they open it and step through, and
find themselves on a dark, rolling moor. They pick a direction and start
walking--and anything more than that would be a spoiler.
Let’s just say the world they find themselves in is deeply
creepy.
I loved lots of things about this book. The world building
is definitely its strength, the language is drily quirky, and you can’t help
but empathize with these poor kids. However, it’s too slender a book. And it
gets that way by skimping on what would, to me, have been the most interesting
part: the process by which each girl learns and grows into her new role in
their new reality.
If it had been up to me, the book would have been twice as
long and included a chapter apiece, for each twin, on each of the five years
spent in The Moors that are covered in this book. The twins are such
interesting characters, and the Moors are such a fascinating place, that it’s a
real disappointment not being able to spend sufficient time with either.
Lacking that, though, it’s still a beautifully-written
little story, with numerous archly humorous lines that had me laughing out
loud. If you’re a fan of Every Heart a Doorway, you’ll definitely want to read
this.
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