Review by New York Times Review
AMONG THE MANY magical or potentially magical objects in Gregory Maguire's latest novel, "Egg & Spoon," is a Fabergé egg. Look at one side of the egg and you see the hut of Baba Yaga. Give it a turn and an ancient ice dragon comes into view. Turn it once more and the legendary Firebird is revealed. Each rotation requires a shift in focus, and one story can be viewed only at the exclusion of the others. Maguire's tale of a Russia beset by floods and witnessing the possible death of magic sets out to accomplish what this particular art object cannot. It offers multiple perspectives, stories told in tandem, and - as this is Gregory Maguire - myth bleeding into folk tale, sliding into fairy tale, colliding with history. Though Maguire's works are frequently described as retellings or reimaginings of existing fictional mythologies - Baum's Oz, the Brothers Grimm, "A Christmas Carol" - they might better be considered as realignments. His mythic mash-ups question how our sympathies have been manipulated by narrative focus - even as he seeks to alter those sympathies by redirecting our gaze. In "Egg & Spoon," the cultural and mythological references may be less recognizable to many readers - Baba Yaga in her chicken-leg house, the Saami shape-shifter Myandash, a doctor steeped in Chekhovian fatalism. Russia's last czar and Rasputin are probably the story's most iconic figures, but they show up only briefly to clang the gong of historical portent. Maybe because the characters populating Maguire's new landscape are less familiar, his shifts in focus have become both more explicit and more personal. Maguire begins in relatively familiar territory. We are presented with Elena, a starving child left alone to tend to her dying mother in a village fading from the map. It is hard not to see her in the hero's role, but even early on, the narrative refuses to let us dwell in any picturesque moment or sentimental feeling. Like another of the story's objects, a magical matryoshka doll, the narrative keeps cracking open, unwilling to settle into a single identity. When a luxurious train is waylaid in Elena's backwater of Miersk, she makes the acquaintance of the pampered and educated Ekaterina (Cat), who is on her way to meet the czar's godson with a priceless Fabergé egg in tow. A series of improbable incidents result in Cat and Elena switching places in "The Prince and the Pauper" fashion. But Elena's transformation into Cat is temporary and halfhearted, requiring little actual masquerade. Her successful disguise relies less on her wits than on the right clothes, helpful servants and a great deal of coincidence. Cat's sojourn as Elena is similarly abbreviated. She spends a single night in miserable Miersk before she is lured into the hut of a voluble, vibrant Baba Yaga. Soon the two girls (one rich, one poor), two eggs (one Fabergé, one Firebird) and two dubious maternal figures (one great-aunt, one witch) are hurtling toward a grand party in St. Petersburg and a confrontation with the czar. Though the story bears some marks of a heroic quest, it is really a series of dreamy, expertly painted vignettes, set pieces both absurd and spectacular. There are many pleasures to be had in the cupboards of Baba Yaga's gallivanting house, in a first glimpse of a flooded St. Petersburg, in the unlikely courtship of soldiers sprung from dragon teeth and their matryoshka brides. Maguire's wit is shown to best advantage when in sync with his lush whimsy: Baba Yaga's take on peasant garb involves cat's-eye glasses and bags from Blooming dale's; the witch's "black-clad derrière stuck up like a cushion in a mortuary parlor." There are times, however, when the aggressive anachronisms and punchy asides feel less a part of the story than the clamor of a Disney sidekick hungry for laughs, and the madcap tone spills over into the other characters' voices seemingly without reason. But in this surfeit of myth and mayhem, there are also moments of poignant quiet, when the grand quest of saving the magic of Russia recedes. In these moments, the human comes to the fore, and our focus narrows once more to a child longing for a parent, a mother longing for a child, the aching burden of living through suffering that life demands again and again. In "Egg & Spoon" Maguire sets his characters the fundamental challenge of stepping outside themselves and acknowledging the wider world and giving up the pleasure of being the center of the narrative. Sometimes he even lets them succeed. Readers may hunger for heroic deeds, but it is impossible not to root for girls and witches and aunts alike, and to cheer their little victories as acts of grace. LEIGH BARDUGO is the author of the Grisha Trilogy.
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [September 7, 2014]
Review by Booklist Review
Maguire knows witches look no further than the smash hit Wicked (1995) and here he sets his sights on Baba Yaga, the child-eating, metal-toothed crone who dwells in a hut carried along on a pair of chicken legs. Privileged, wealthy 11-year-old Cat tumbles out of a train while trying to catch an intricate Faberge egg, and in a classic case of mistaken identity starving-peasant Elena takes her place. While Elena takes advantage of Cat's riches (and her myopic aunt), Cat encounters Baba Yaga's capricious cabin in a snowy glade, and, in an uncharacteristically charitable turn, the witch helps Cat and Elena set everything including famine-stricken Russia to rights. Although Cat and Elena's burgeoning friendship and determination make for a heartening story, it's Maguire's Baba Yaga, full of irreverent anachronisms and a salty attitude, who steals the show sometimes, in fact, overpowering the rest of the story. Maguire's fantastical world is filled with Russian folklore and history, particularly the growing unrest that eventually led to the October Revolution, and though Cat and Elena's quest at times feels overstuffed, the whimsical tone and lush setting are still plenty appealing. HIGH-DEMAND BACKSTORY: Maguire's got an expansive audience, thanks to his best-selling novels, not to mention the blowout success of the musical version of Wicked.--Hunter, Sarah Copyright 2010 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
An imprisoned monk narrates this fabulist tale from Maguire, which draws inspiration from Russian folklore, Cinderella, Alice in Wonderland, and Twain's The Prince and the Pauper, while incorporating a modern thread about the threat of climate change. On her way to be presented to the Tsar's godson, wealthy Ekaterina is marooned in a rural village when a broken bridge stops her train. Peasant Elena approaches the luxurious train to beg, and the two girls take tentative steps toward friendship; when the train starts moving again, the wrong one is aboard. The journey to their eventual reunion brings Ekaterina in contact with legendary witch Baba Yaga. Though the setting is circa 1900, Maguire's riffs are mostly contemporary: Baba Yaga complains about regifting, owns the original cast recording from Damn Yankees, and bemoans that she's out of "Granny Yaga's Frozen Tater Tots, made from real tots." Like the matryoshka doll Elena carries, there are a lot of layers to Maguire's story. Rich, descriptive language will reward readers who like to sink their teeth into a meaty story. Ages 12-up. Agent: William Reiss, John Hawkins and Associates. (Sept.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review
Gr 7 Up-Peasant girl Elena Rudina is slowly starving to death along with her dying mother in the Russian countryside. Her eldest brother has just been drafted into the Tsar's army. When a train carrying Ekaterina, a girl of the nobility, unexpectedly breaks down in their village, an opportunity presents itself. Through a series of unplanned events, the girls switch places, and Elena is off to Saint Petersburg to visit the Tsar, whom she will ask to free her brother. Add in a young prince, Baba Yaga, a fire dragon, and dancing matryoshka brides, and you have a rollicking adventure full of Russian folklore and vigor. Michael Page gives an amazing reading, making Baba Yaga a cross between a witch and a comedian. He easily conveys Elena's fears, sorrows, and pessimism. Page's deep, craggy voice adapts to each character, making them distinct and appealing. This fractured fairy tale is one of the year's best recordings and a must-have at any library.-B. Allison Gray, Goleta Public Library, Santa Barbara, CA (c) Copyright 2015. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Horn Book Review
An imprisoned man tells his story, Scheherazade-like, in letters to the tsar. He begins with Elena, a young girl in the impoverished Russian countryside who is nursing her dying mother and who has witnessed her brother and all the village men conscripted by the tsar's soldiers, among other catastrophes. The few remaining villagers are on the brink of starvation when a train unexpectedly stops on an unused stretch of track. Thus Elena meets privileged Ekaterina, and their lives collide and intertwine, sending the story in two directions: to a ball in St. Petersburg and deep into the forest to the witch Baba Yaga. Maguire savors every inch of his elaborate narrative, introducing tropes from Russian folktales and giving his characters plenty of play, especially the hardboiled Baba Yaga, who seems to exist outside of time (and is akin to Maguire's other witches). The plot meanders, developing everywhere at once yet always intriguing. As he slowly draws his characters and threads together, Maguire loses some narrative tension and occasionally reveals himself as author through the voice of his paternalistic intrusive narrator. However, there is so much in his rich and consistently surprising prose that young readers will likely forgive him for being a grownup and enjoy the gift of his magical story. nina lindsay (c) Copyright 2014. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review
Two girls switch identities while colliding with Baba Yaga and the Firebird in Czarist Russia. Elena, a child of rural Russian poverty in the town of Miersk, is desperate to help her ailing mother and to recover her older brothers, Alexei, at work for another family, and Luka, conscripted into the czar's army. Her determined journey finds her life suddenly swapped with that of Ekaterina, also 13, a daughter of privilege. Plot details include a pilgrimage to Saint Petersburg to meet the czar and his godson, Prince Anton, a Faberg egg, a Firebird's egg, a legacy of matryoshka dolls, and the powerful presence and proclamations of Baba Yaga. Maguire, a veteran writer of reimagined traditional tales for a new world, jauntily explores themes no less profound than hunger and satiety, class and influence, and the sharing of resources in a world wracked by climate change. While not without flawsa bit protracted, cluttered, overly grand and infused with some metafictive moments that occasionally take the reader out of the storythis is an epic rich with references, aphorisms and advice.An ambitious, Scheherazade-ian novel, rather like a nesting-doll set of stories, that succeeds in capturing some of the complexities of both Russia and life itself. (Historical fantasy. 12 up) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
