Ban Rona Book Club

The World is Whispering

Dear readers, I have so enjoyed experiencing these books with you this last year. It's hard to believe it's been a whole year! How sad to see our book club come to an end. But I'm not going anywhere. We had some great conversations this year, and we made connections with one another, and I am honored to be your librarian. I'm looking forward to what conversations we might have next year. :-)For our last excerpt of 2015, I picked Armulyn's song. Read it under your breath and feel the cadence.

The world is whispering—listen, child!—The world is telling a tale.When the seafoam froths in the water wildOr the fendril flies in the gale, When the sky is mad with the swirling stormAnd thunder shakes the hall,Child, keep watch for the passing formOf the one who made it all. Listen, child, to the Hollish wind,To the hush of heather down,To the voice of the brook at the stony bendAnd the bells of Rysentown. The dark of the heart is a darkness deepAnd the sweep of the night is wideAnd the pain of the heart when the people weepIs an overwhelming tide— And yet! and yet! when the tide runs lowAs the tide will always doAnd the heavy sky where the bellows blowIs bright at last, and blue And the sun ascends in the quiet mornAnd the sorrow sinks away,When the veil of death and dark is tornAsunder by the day,Then the light of love is the flame of springAnd the flow of the river strongAnd the hope of the heart as the people singIs an everlasting song. The winter is whispering, “green and gold,”And the heart is whispering, too—It’s a story the Maker has always toldAnd the story, my child, is true. —Armulyn, Royal Bard of the Shining IsleFrom chapter 96, "The Former Fangs Have Passed Away."
Will you post me one last excerpt from your reading this week? And I'll see you on Monday. (And in the forum!) :-) 

Two Janners

Have you ever had skittery, somersaulting thoughts like this? I have.

Janner’s heart somersaulted with shame, embarrassment, envy, frustration at himself, contrition, gratitude, and then more frustration. As soon as he settled on one feeling, the next one crowded it out. He sighed, wishing he could rest and let things be as they were. He felt as if he were two people: one boy who saw the situation objectively, who knew the right answers—which were to be content with his lot, grateful to the Maker, humble to his calling—and another boy whom he hated, who felt things hotly and demanded attention like a child throwing a fit.Even the good feelings betrayed him, because once he felt them he was proud of having them, which opened the door for the next multitude of conflicting emotions.No, he would think. ... Be glad... He would settle for a moment, even breathe a sigh of relief. Then like a rat in the kitchen, a dark thought would skitter across the floor of his thoughts.—From chapter 89, "The Maker."
This is our second-to-last Friday for the Ban Rona Book Club! What snippet did you love best this week? Post it in the comments! And if you'd like some conversation (about the above passage, or anything else), come on over to the forum.Have you had a chance to catch Andrew on his tour? He'd love to meet you! 

Down into darkness

In this darkest moment, in mud and despair, Leeli's strength is like an anvil. Strike her, and sparks light the darkness. Our stories tell us who we are.

Leeli kept her eyes on the mud at her feet lest she collapse into tears. She summoned Nia’s strength and fought to keep her back straight, her eyes fierce. She would not fall helplessly to the mud only to be wrenched to her feet and prodded forward by the Fangs. This was her home, not theirs.Their way led to a corridor in the rubble, at the end of which was a well-traveled stair that sank away into darkness. Leeli paused at the top and looked up, wondering if this was the last time she would see the sky. Even sullied with smoke, it was beautiful.—From chapter 75.
What passage did you love best this week? I accidentally posted this excerpt and the previous one out of order—oops! I would love to read a segment you enjoyed, no matter where you found it, from the beginning of the series to the end. Post it in the comments! :-)Andrew's Christmas tour is underway! Will you be at one of his shows? Check out his music site for dates and tickets. I know he'd love to meet you (especially if you bring him some cough drops). 

The Storm

Between Leeli, Janner, and the storm, there's so much going on in this section. The storm sets my heart thrumming with an old, jubilant song that I love.

Leeli had no song in mind. She reached deep into her soul, the music flowering from the rich soil of a hundred tunes she had sung or played over the years. The bouquet she gathered was simple and warm, glimmering with all the hope her love had planted.Janner stood behind her with his eyes closed, abandoning all his resentment toward the Maker and praying boldly for the song to speed over the hills to the Field of Finley.The storm was dark but not malevolent, a joyful blast of thunder and rain, wind and wildness. It scoured the town of every mote of Fang dust, every loose shingle, every fragment of waste. It lifted Leeli’s song like a pebble and sent it skipping across the rolling, spring-green hills and hollows—but the storm also seemed to hammer the song into the ground, where Janner sensed it pulsing eastward, flowing like an underground river.Janner shut his eyes and struggled to keep his footing as his Durgan cape whipped around him and Leeli both, snapping like a flag in the gale as Leeli gave herself over to the magic of the music, heedless of the stinging rain and crashing thunder.—From chapter 82, "The Battle Begins."
What did you love best from your reading this week? Post it in the comments! And then come hang out with us in the forum. Today we have hot berry cider and pie. It's going to be a party. :-)Speaking of parties, here are three things of note:
  1. The paperback Warden and the Wolf King is finally available for preorder!
  2. The Rabbit Room is having a huge sale on everything Wingfeather this weekend—and this is your last chance to snatch up a Creaturepedia or a signed hardcover WATWK! There are lots of other great things on sale, too, including Andrew's music and his brother's pirate books.
  3. The epic giveaway over at Into the Book ends tonight at midnight (central time)!

I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving! I'm so grateful to be your librarian and to get to know you. :-) See you Monday!

Living into legend

I have seen the look on this young man's face when he discovers a new story. Many times I have nearly slipped up to help him and then, at the last second, realized that he needs no help. His face is full of reverence and breathless anticipation. His hands hold a book lightly, as if it might fly away on an adventure of its own, and then he slowly pulls it toward himself—a treasure. He wants to take the adventure into himself. In these moments I am glad to stay in the shadows. The books have done my work for me. And yes, this young man is a legend.

Down they went, not knowing what had become of their sister, not knowing what lay at the bottom of the mountain, not knowing anything but hunger, thirst, cold, and weariness. They had come further and done more in their few years than most men ever would. They were living lives that would pass into legend.Stories would be written about them—stories that would be read by children and parents at bedtime. Brothers and sisters would enact their favorite scenes, dressing up like Fangs or sea dragons or even Podo Helmer. Janner, Tink, and Leeli had done so themselves when they were children, Podo had done so with his siblings when he was young, and so it had been all the way back to the First Fellows, who heard tales from the Maker’s own mouth about other worlds he had made.—From chapter 73, "Across the Chasm."
What snippet did you best love from your reading this week? Share it in the comments! Then, come to the forum. Settle in and sip some bibes. Share what's on your mind. We are gifts to one another.p.s. Have you seen this giveaway?

The Crags at Castle Rock

Sometimes a song is a weapon, even if you can't sing very well. So if you need to, sing, and don't worry about how it sounds. :-)

The rain that rakes the ocean span The sun that breaks and warms the land The bows that bound from cliff to cliff The grass that greens the stone and sand The bells that ring in the tower clock The swallows that sing to the swooping flock And circle the mast of the sailing skiff All hallow the Maker of Castle RockWhen the waves march in and beat the brow Of the headland stones I remember how In the summer we stood on the windy dune As the daylight broke and we made the vow To return to Castle Rock someday No matter how far was our home away We would go there together and sing a tune To sound of the bells in the light of the moon For the praise of the Maker who gave us the boon Of the summer we spent on the northern bay —From chapter 70, "The Crags at Castle Rock."
Did you have a favorite excerpt this week? Post it in the comments! And once you're done with that, come hang out in the forum with us. There are a couple of new discussions as of today.This is the last weekend of Andrew's release tour for The Burning Edge of Dawn. He's got two shows in Indiana and one in Tennessee. If he'll be near you, go see him! And if you miss him, don't worry; Behold the Lamb of God starts up on December 2. :-) 

Living Stories

Janner is alone in the dark, in the worst place in the world. He is angry and afraid. He is exhausted. He is near despair. And there is a traitor in his own heart, too.But is he alone?

Protect.The word came to him again and again, as steady as a drum beat. Indeed, it had been beaten into him since he was a baby. And now the rhythm of his mother’s word, his uncle’s word, drove back the anger—not completely, but enough that he thought less of his own misery and more of his brother’s.He remembered old tales, stories about self-sacrifice and the way a single, beautiful act done for the sake of another could shine out across the dark of the ages like a breaking dawn. When he was little, he and Kal had made swords out of sticks and defeated dragons, Fangs, and villains, and Janner had lain awake in his bed at the Igiby cottage yearning to be one of those heroes. Maybe now the Maker was only giving him what he wanted. Maybe the Maker was answering the prayer of his little boy heart by leading him here and giving him the chance to live one of those stories.—From chapter 61, "Alone in the Deeps of Throg."
Have you also dreamed of being in a story? Does it give you strength?Wherever you're at in the series right now, whether you're reading along with the book club or on your own, I'd love to hear what you loved best this week. Post an excerpt in the comments! And then come join us in the forum. :-) 

The cloven and the boy

This scene is heartbreaking. It makes me long to know that what Artham said so long ago—“Things will be made right”—is true. Knowing the end of the tale doesn't make this scene less sad, but it does make my heart burn. (My eyes, too.)

From behind an old log, two stems rose, each of which was topped with a greenish orb that blinked. Eyeballs. Padded frog-like fingers draped themselves over the log, so that they looked like vines or caterpillars resting on the rotten wood. Janner had the troubling realization that the thing was about to jump.Then something crashed in the underbrush behind him. Janner spun. Two hogpig cloven charged toward him, squealing. Their tusks were black with mold and as long as daggers. Janner swung his sword. His first blow missed, but his second made contact with one of the cloven’s front legs—a front leg that ended not in a hogpig hoof but a human foot. Oood roared as he leaped forward and swung his fists, first at Janner’s hogpig then at the other, which was attacking Kalmar.The eyeball thing behind the log loosed a rumbling gribbit and leaped over the fallen tree. Its body was like a digtoad’s but with spikes sprouting from a coat of luxurious white fur. Janner didn’t want to kill it. He knew it had once been human. He knew it probably suffered from the same forgetful madness that haunted Kalmar.Before it landed on him he hunkered down and raised his sword. The hairy digtoad slammed into him and rolled away with a groan. Janner climbed to his feet and realized his sword was no longer in his hand. It was embedded to the hilt in the digtoad’s belly.The cloven’s eye-stalks twitched on the ground as it gasped for air. The hogpigs were several feet away, one of them crackling to dust and the other wounded and struggling to breathe. Oood slowly turned in a circle, braced for any further attack, but none came.Kalmar sheathed his sword and knelt at the digtoad’s side. “Janner, it’s trying to speak.”Janner averted his eyes from the wound he had dealt and knelt beside Kalmar. He wanted to speak but the lump in his throat silenced him.“Are . . . you . . . a child? A boy?” the thing said between breaths. Its voice was gribbity, but there was enough human in it that Janner’s sadness grew. The digtoad took a deep breath and said, “I remember. I was a boy once.”—From chapter 53, "The Angry Ones Attack."
What passage did you love best from this week's reading? Post it in the comments! (If it's too spoilery to post here on the front page, we've got a thread in the forum just for that sort of thing.) 

The stories are true.