Ban Rona Book Club

BRBC week 40: Laughter in the Deeps

What a wonder, that old terror can be turned to new strength. Who could expect such a thing? Praise the Maker.

Hand in hand, the Wingfeather boys made their way deeper into the cave, the light behind them fading to nothing the way Oood’s breath had faded the night before. ...Kalmar led them on for what felt like an eternity before he stopped. “I can’t see. I just realized it.”“What do you mean you just realized it?”“I’ve been smelling my way, and I can kind of hear where the tunnel goes. I just closed my eyes and realized that everything’s totally dark now.”Knowing that neither of them could see almost unhinged Janner. He had begun to feel like the mountain was pressing down on him, crushing the part of his mind that knew light and shape until he was forever blind. He needed to light the lantern before he went mad. When he let go of Kalmar’s hand he realized he had been squeezing it for a while now. But with nothing to hold onto he lost all sense of place and felt like he was falling. He staggered and caught himself against the wall. It was cold and damp, like the wall of the tunnel under Anklejelly Manor.Janner chuckled.“What is it? Why are you laughing?”“I was just thinking about Anklejelly Manor. The ghost of Brimney Stupe. Aaaaaaaaaaah.” Janner snorted with laughter. “We were so scared that day!”“The hungry ghost of Brimney Stupe awaits your BONES to swallow,” Kalmar said, and now he was laughing too. “Remember how fast we ran home?”“You were screaming like a little girl!” Janner wheezed and doubled over. It felt good to laugh, no matter how insane it seemed in their situation. As he leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, he wiped his eyes and saw a million colors. It was a comforting illusion. “That was the most afraid I’d ever been. And now we’re in the Deeps of Throg, and neither of us can see a thing. If the ghost of Brimney Stupe showed up, I’d give him a hug.”It was, perhaps, the first time laughter had sounded in the Deeps of Throg, and when it had passed the brothers were braver for it.
Discussion: Have you ever experienced a reversal like this, where something you thought you couldn't handle turned out to be what helped you handle something else?Do you enjoy scary stories? What do you like about them? What are your favorites?Do you agree with Podo or Leeli about the dragons?What passage stood out to you this week?Andrew on tour: By the time this post is up, Andrew will have already finished one UK show, but there are four more! If you live anywhere near one, I know he'd love to see you. Check out his music page for details and tickets!

BRBC week 39: A painful hope

"It awakens the hope that our story is not over." How strange that a thing can hurt and heal at the same time.

Hours passed. Janner, Kalmar, and Oood trudged up and up, deeper into the forest and higher into the foothills. Sometime before the sun set, the trees opened into a little clearing.“Look,” Janner said, pointing at the snowy teeth of the Killridge Mountains towering overhead. They were terrifying—razor sharp and impossibly tall.“So that’s where we’re going,” Kalmar said.“Throg,” Oood rumbled.The cloven moved on without a glance at the mountains. As they walked, more and more of the wild creatures joined them until the forest teemed with twisted limbs and lumpy faces. At first they were noisy, snarling and threatening so that the boys drew their swords and pressed against Oood. But when they saw Janner, the cloven either ran away or fell in line, seeming to understand somehow where they were going. Those who stayed limped and lurched through the trees, whispering to one another. All Janner heard were the words, “Boy” and “Anniera.” Many of the cloven wept as they walked.It got colder and more difficult to breathe, reminding Janner of his journey through the Stony Mountains with Maraly Weaver. The wind stirred the treetops, causing the icy stars to flicker overhead.
Discussion: What gives you hope?Got any more troll poetry to share? ;-)What passage spoke to you this week?

BRBC week 38: Rain and Fire

I don't know about you, but I love poetry—adventure poems, Lenten poems, cheese poems, sehnsuchty poems, tree poems, heart poems, shark poems. A good friend and I are getting together this weekend to read poetry together, and maybe I will bring this one along.

“Do you write . . . stories?”“No stories. Oood write . . . pretty words. Words about this.” He pointed at his own chest.“Words about your heart?” Janner asked. “Poems?”“Ha! Yes. Oood write poems.”Janner was speechless. Not only did trolls live in castles, they wrote poetry? ...Oood cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “Oood say poem called—called—in boys’ words it called ‘Rain and Fire.’ Right?”“Right,” Janner repeated.After a moment of silence, during which the sun broke the horizon and a chorus of birds sang, Oood closed his eyes and spoke in a voice that was at once soft and booming:

Grrk. Glog-glogackwoggy!Grrk. Glog-glogacksnock-jibbit,Ooog, wacklesnodspadgenoggy,Nacketbrigglesweeeeeem! Grrk. Squibbit?

When it was over, the birds had fallen silent. Janner found that, even though the sounds had been strange and, to his ears, unpleasant, Oood’s rich voice and passionate recital had stirred his heart.

Discussion: What's your favorite poem?Have you ever written any poetry? What about troll poetry? (Or ridgerunner poetry, for that matter! Fruit!)Activity: Try your hand at writing some pretty words about your heart—or about tacos or fruit or the sound of the wind or whatever else you can think of. If you feel like sharing, we'd love to hear it. :-)

BRBC week 37 (ish): Postmoot

Greetings from the far side of Hutchmoot! Last Friday i sat on a ten-or-so-foot-long leather couch in the Nameless Triangle of Chinwaggery with sunlight streaming in the tall windows, conversations humming nearby, and Doodlemoot easels before and behind. Dozens of guests had brought jam from their hometowns and kitchens, and the bright-colored jars on long tables glistened in the light of the sun. Andrew and I had bumped into each other that morning, kiffy in hand, and we made grand plans to let him pick the excerpt for the week. Alas, but there is so much going on all the time at Hutchmoot that neither of us managed to pull our brains together enough to post. We missed you, though. If we could have all sat on that long leather couch and chatted with one other about Anniera, that would have been a happy moot.There are Shining Isle updates coming, and we'll get back on track with our reading schedule next week. But for today, here is last week's excerpt. ;-)

Even in its dilapidated state the homestead was a beautiful spot. ...Artham dismounted and walked up to the porch. “This is where they lived.”“It ain’t a bad spot,” Maraly said, spitting and wiping her chin with her forearm. She pointed beyond the house at a trail that led into a little stand of trees. “What’s through there?”“That’s the Glipper Trail,” Artham said. “I’ll show you.”They dismounted and traipsed through spring weeds so green and wild they seemed to have erupted from the ground that morning. They slipped in among the trees and wound down a short slope of rocky switchbacks. All at once, the trees parted and the Dark Sea of Darkness spread out below them like a gray sheet.Maraly clutched the nearest tree, dizzied by the height.“That’s something you don’t see every day,” Gammon said. “Beautiful.”“And scary,” Sara said.“It’s not scary at all,” said Artham with a laugh. He ran to the edge of the cliff and jumped. ...Sara inhaled the salty air, felt the cool wind whispering up over the cliff, and closed her eyes with a sigh. ... The air around her and the ground beneath her feet tingled with a long-withheld joyfulness. Was it possible that the land itself knew that the shadow of Gnag the Nameless had passed from Skree?
Discussion: What's your favorite kind of jam?Have you ever felt homesick for a place you've never been? (forum thread for book one)How can we make welcoming places for each other, even in our homesickness? (forum thread)This week we've finally gotten a peek into Armulyn's backstory. What had you expected? Did the real story line up? (forum thread)What would you most look forward to about visiting Anniera?In our previous book club readalong, we noticed that Gammon makes two different speeches in two chapters. What are your thoughts? (forum thread)What was your favorite passage this week?Bonus: Here's Andrew reading one of this segment's chapters: "Storytime with Artham."https://youtu.be/xplL0pP4lqs

BRBC week 36: For Queen Sara

Every queen needs a general, and every bard needs one, too. I have so much respect for young Borley.

Armulyn stepped between the children and the Fang and strummed his whistleharp. He blew on the whistle and played a fast jig, tapping his feet on the floor and working his elbows like a duck. But the melody was shaky and out of tune; there were so many wrong notes that Sara cringed.The Fang’s howl was cut short and it cocked its head at Armulyn, wondering what in the world the strange man was doing. Then it began to laugh. Two more Fangs appeared in the doorway in answer to the first one’s call, and the three of them pointed and laughed at the bard, mocking his dance and howling all the louder. A bead of sweat trickled down Armulyn’s cheek.He finished his shaky song and struck a pose with one hand out, as if he were waiting for applause. The Fangs doubled over with laughter. “Do it again!” the first one barked between breaths.Armulyn raised his whistleharp once more, and Sara saw that his hands were trembling. This time, however, the notes were clear and beautiful, and the Fangs covered their ears, doubled over, and whined.Suddenly Borley leapt from the table. “For Queen Sara!” he screamed, and the orphans surged forward. Sara stood on the table in shock as her army streamed past her, past Armulyn, and overcame the three Grey Fangs before they knew what was happening.The children filed out by company, trampling Fang dust and armor underfoot. Sara hopped down, took Armulyn’s hand, and joined their mad rush to Riverside Road.
Discussion: Who do you most identify with in these chapters (32-37)? Sara? Maraly? Artham? Someone else?What did you think of Armulyn, now that we've met him? (Discuss here or in the forum)How can we make welcoming places for each other? (Discuss in the forum)What was your favorite passage this week?Andrew on tour: Andrew has a few shows in the next couple of days—and next week is Resurrection Letters at Hutchmoot! To see if he'll be near you, or to find tickets for any of these events, visit his music site.

BRBC week 35: The rooftops of Dugtown

This passage woke up my yearning to see Dugtown from above. I've never seen it from below, either—I think I might like that less, in fact—but the idea of the city spread out below me, sunset glinting off the river, spires and roofs radiating outward from the crossway below my feet—well. I need a cape. I can't wait for the comic that's coming.

He tried to ignore the Fangs clambering through the window and into the little back garden as he scanned the rooftops to get his bearings. He knew Dugtown well, and thanks to his night prowling as the Florid Sword, he knew the rooftops of Dugtown better than anyone.He saw the spires of Castle Torr in the distance, the kitten’s tail and ears lifting over the misty river in the south. He spotted several torch towers, the hulk of the Fork Factory to the west, and knew that they had emerged on the eastern end of the city.
Discussion: Would you rather explore Dugtown from above—via roofs—or from below—exploring the Strander tunnels?Are you more like Maraly or Sara?What was your favorite passage this week?Activity: What do you think eggypigheamers and stog is like—or hogpig steamers, for that matter? Try your hand at recreating breakfast at The Flabbit's Paw. Let us know how your experiment worked!

BRBC week 34: Pity

Leeli's sweet, fierce heart is remarkable. I want to see the world the way she does.

Leeli turned her thoughts to the heavens, and took up her pleading where Nia’s left off, praying a blessing of safety on her brothers, who even now walked deeper into darkness with each step.Strangely, she felt no anger toward Gnag, who had wrought such evil on the world—only pity. And that pity aimed her prayers toward her brothers and their safety.What could she do? Her leg was twisted by Fangs, and she was only nine years old. She was as weak as a flower. She stroked Nia’s hair, as Nia had often stroked hers whenever she was afraid. Then her hand drifted to the whistleharp. If she couldn’t go with her brothers into the heart of darkness, she would defend the Hollows. She would play. Her song was all she had, and she would send it skyward as long as she had breath to do so.Long into the night, the Song Maiden of Anniera practiced fingerings in silence, recalling song after song and arranging them as a warrior might lay out weapons and sharpen blades. If, when the sun rose, the Fangs returned, she would be ready.
Discussion: How is Leeli able to feel pity toward Gnag? How does that pity shape her prayers?Do you agree with Kal and Janner's decision? That's a spoilery conversation perfect for the forum.What was your favorite part of this week's reading?Activity: Who's got a soup song, a gravy song, or a goat lullaby? Let's hear it! Jesse wrote a delicious bacon song to get us started last week. It made me super hungry and I might have eaten bacon after reading it. :-)

BRBC week 33: Points of Light

Bravery, heroism, loss, sorrow—light.

Leeli made her way through the dogs, touching their heads as she passed and thinking of Nugget. Brave Nugget who had leapt into a company of Fangs to protect her.When she reached Biggin, she sat on the floor beside her Guildmaster. A resurgence of the day’s horror washed over her as night fell on the Hollows, and her soul was dark with sorrow. She saw the same sorrow in the eyes of her dogs, and heard it also in Biggin’s voice. There had been so much death, so much suffering—and yet, in the face of it, so much bright defiance. So many brave men and women whose stories would be in the hearts of the Hollowsfolk for the rest of time, because they had died for the sake of their friends. It did little to ease the present sadness, but she wept—for she knew her tears were medicine—and she realized that Gnag the Nameless’s best efforts to blacken the world would only serve to scatter light like the stars in the heavens.“When Leeli closed her eyes and inhaled the pleasant musk of the many hounds and felt their noses nudging her shoulder and shins, she recalled the look on Nugget’s face as he clawed at the Fangs on Miller’s Bridge. His courage was as big as the world, and when he died a bit of the world died with him. And yet here she was, months later, on another terrible day, experiencing a miraculous lightening of her heart’s burden at the memory of Nugget’s selfless act. It was as if a strand connected that day with this one and the Maker’s pleasure was coursing through it like blood in a vein. Then she thought of this one battle, in which there were countless acts of heroism, sacrifice, and honor, which were seen and would be remembered long after the heroes died and became points of light in a dark sky, connected by memories like constellations, each of which painted a picture that all the darkness of the universe could never quench. Light danced along the strands. Gnag couldn’t stop it in a million epochs. Leeli grieved but knew, in a way she couldn’t explain, that her grief would lead to something good.
Discussion: Can you think of any lights in dark skies—stories or people or sacrifices which show that while the dark is dark, the light is lighter? What helps you be brave?What was your favorite passage this week?Things to talk about in the forum: Ridgerunners and trolls, doing wrong things for love, Fangness, feelings of guilt. And visit Community conversations for a brand-new game and other friendship opportunities. :-)Activity: Leeli tries every kind of song she can think of in her effort to find her brothers: "...Hollish reels, sailing songs, battle songs, sad songs, happy songs, Skreean dirges, soup songs, bacon songs, gravy songs, goat lullabies, songs about the Maker, to the Maker, and even some songs that were so old people claimed they were written by the Maker." What do you think some of these sound like? Write us a gravy song or a goat lullaby. Share it in the forum. :-)

The stories are true.