Moon Over Manifest: 2011 Newberry Winner

She is a writer's writer. That is the first thing that struck me when I began reading Moon Over Manifest, the 2011 Newberry Winner.

This is not an amazing "new" story-- the plot itself is not what's extraordinary. Rather, it is the storytelling that is delightful. Clare Vanderpool is an impressive wordsmith. While reading, I highlighted my favorite lines just so I could return to revel in them. For example:

"There wasn't an ounce of bustling to be had. Just a few tired souls holding up a doorway here and there."

And:

"A typewriter sat on a cluttered desk, its keys splayed open with some scattered on the desk like it tried to spell explosion and the explosion happened."

Moon Over Manifest is historical fiction, and Vanderpool did what I thought was a big no-no in the world of children's lit: she wove together two separate stories in two separate times. This is a tried-and-true adult novel technique, but I always understood that kids couldn't follow the back-and-forth of it all. Well, the Newberry committee begged to differ (and before that, an editor and a publisher).

The story follows a young girl named Abilene Tucker. She is wandering Depression era America with her lost soul of a father, hopping trains, stopping at un-named towns filled with god-knows-who, doing god-knows-what. Survival is the name of the game. When Abilene turns 12, her father seems to feel that a life of blowing in the wind isn't for a young lady, so he sends her to the only town he stayed in long enough to call "home": Manifest. And this story is all about that theme: Home. Where do we belong? Who do we call family, and what are the stories they tell? When the people of Manifest gradually reveal their histories, Abilene discovers her own narrative tucked away in the far corners of Manifest's forgotten past.

But again, it was Vanderpool's wonderful storytelling that kept me clicking on my Kindle's "next" button. After all, this story is laced with multiple characters telling their own stories, so I guess you better be a good teller of tales yourself.  So here's some more of my favorite lines, as a tribute to the Storyteller in all of us (and because I like re-reading them, too):

"He tried to gather up some papers and scraps of wood, as if there were traces of his mismatched life that he hadn't wanted me to see."

"My heart sunk like a five-gallon bucket of disappointment."

"He says that places not that far west of here are so dry people shrivel up like November leaves and blow all the way to California."

"As I tiptoed up the rotting stairs, they creaked and groaned, cussing me for stepping on their aching backs."

"'Sit down,' she said, her voice thick and savory like goulash." (describing a Hungarian fortune teller)

"Memories were like sunshine. They warmed you up and left a pleasant glow, but you couldn't hold them."

"There followed a most painful silence that hovered like hot, moist air before a big rain."

Clare Vanderpool is the Queen of Simile and Metaphor. I like that. And I definitely like returning to some of her better literary creations just to savor them. Her words and phrases are like a collection of spices that transform a potentially pedestrian meal into a food lover's delight.

So, Bon Appetit!