Children of exile

Review by Booklist Review

Rosi, 12, has lived all her life in sheltered Fredtown, a community of adults who took in refugee children to raise them in a safe environment. Her adoptive parents have lovingly raised Rosi and her little brother, Bobo, but always made it clear that one day they and all the children in Fredtown would be returned to their real parents. When the day comes, initial excitement soon turns to disappointment and fear as the children of Fredtown meet their real parents, who are physically and emotionally scarred and have no idea how to relate to the children they have not seen since birth. In Fredtown, appearances were unimportant, but here eye color seems to provoke prejudice. What happened back home while the Freds were raising other people's children? Why isn't it safe to go out after dark? With her trademark clarity, sympathetic and dimensional characters, and effective chapter hooks, Haddix's latest series starter once again raises questions with real content and impact. Are there other worlds? And if so, would they care enough about ours to save us? HIGH-DEMAND BACKSTORY: Haddix knows how to sell a series, and this new one is being bolstered by an author tour and major education and library outreach.--Carton, Debbie Copyright 2016 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

In this trilogy opener, Rosi and her younger brother, Bobo, are two of many children raised by Fred-mamas and Fred-daddies in Fredtown, a place of equality and harmony. After an agreement is struck, the children are forced to return home to their actual parents. At 12, Rosi is one of the oldest children, charged with protecting the others, including her estranged friend Edwy, who believes the Freds are just as fake as the Enforcers who take them away. When the children reach their real home, Rosi finds life unbearable under cruel parents and extreme poverty, despite the help of a missionary. When Edwy and Rosi work together to determine what happened to the charred buildings and maimed citizens of their new town, they discover severe inequality and a bias against their bright green eyes. Much as in Under Their Skin (2015), Haddix seems to be telling one story before pivoting sharply amid major revelations that shake up everything Rosi knows. Though the messaging isn't subtle, Haddix gives readers lots to mull over regarding conflict, justice, and prejudice. Ages 10-up. Agent: Tracey Adams, Adams Literary. (Sept.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

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Review by School Library Journal Review

Gr 4-8-Twelve-year old Rosi has spent her entire life away from her parents. She, her brother, and the other children from her hometown were brought to Fredtown as infants to be kept safe from danger. This small, structured, and simple community named after the Norwegian word for peace is the only environment the children have ever known. When the Fred-parents abruptly inform the children they will be returning home, questions flood Rosi's mind but are left unanswered. The children are forced onto an airplane heading to a place that feels foreign, where they are greeted by biological parents who are strangers to them. At first, Rosi is desperate to return to Fredtown. Then she begins to uncover mysteries and question what she's been told all along. Haddix brilliantly sets up her story, giving readers just enough information to keep them grounded while elevating tension through Rosi's uncertainty. Fast-paced action, plot twists, and cliff-hanger chapter endings will keep readers on the edge of their seats. Haddix's tone and language and the absence of graphic violence make this an ideal selection for younger readers eager for a dystopian novel. VERDICT Fans of Jeanne DuPrau's The City of Ember and Haddix's own "Shadow Children" series will want to be first in line for this book.-Beth Parmer, New Albany Elementary Library, OH © Copyright 2016. 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.

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Review by Horn Book Review

Twelve-year-old Rosi is one of the happy children raised by the Freds of Fredtown, a foster community she and others were brought to as infants for safekeeping. But now they're thrilled to finally return home and meet their biological parents--at least they were thrilled. Suspenseful classic-sci-fi elements will keep readers guessing until the series-starter's revelatory twist ending. (c) Copyright 2017. 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.

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Children of Exile CHAPTER ONE We weren't orphans after all. That was the first surprise. The second was that we were going home. "Home!" my little brother, Bobo, sang as he jumped up and down on my bed, right after the Freds told us the news. "Home, home, home, home . . ." I grabbed him mid-jump and teased, "Silly, you've never even been there before! How do you know it's worth jumping on the bed for?" "I was born there, right?" Bobo said. "So I do know, Rosi. I remember." He blinked up at me, his long, dark eyelashes sweeping his cheeks like a pair of exquisite feathers. Bobo was five; he had curls that sprang out from his head like so many exclamation points, and his big eyes always seemed to glow. If he'd known how adorable he was, he would have been dangerous. But there was a rule in Fredtown that you couldn't tell little kids how cute they were. It was kind of hard to obey. "How could you remember being such a tiny baby?" I asked. "You were only a few days old when you arrived in Fredtown. None of us were more than a few days old, coming here." I tried to keep my voice light and teasing. I was twelve; I should have known better than to look to a five-year-old to answer my questions. But no one else had given me the answers I wanted. And sometimes Bobo heard things. "Edwy says home is where we belong," Bobo said, stubbornly sticking out his lower lip. "Edwy says we should have stayed there always." "Oh, Edwy says," I teased. But it was hard to keep the edge out of my voice. Of course Edwy has an answer, I thought. Even if he just made it up. Even if he knows it's a lie. Edwy was twelve, like me--we were the oldest children in Fredtown. We were born on the same day. And we were the only ones who were moved to Fredtown on the very day of our birth, instead of waiting a day or two like everyone else. The Freds always told us it had been too "dangerous" for us to stay with our parents then. For the past twelve years, they'd said it was too "dangerous" for any of us children to go home. I was maybe three the first time I asked, But isn't it dangerous for our parents, too? Why didn't they come to Fredtown to be safe with us? The Freds always said, They are adults. You are children. Adults have to take care of themselves. It is our job to take care of you. I didn't think that counted as a real answer. That was why Edwy and I had decided when we were ten--back when we still talked to each other--that we were probably orphans and the Freds just didn't want to make us sad by telling us that. We'd argued about this a little: I said surely the newest babies of Fredtown weren't orphans. Surely their parents were still alive. "But there haven't been any new babies in my family since me," Edwy said fiercely. He always got fierce when the only other choice was sounding sad. "And none in yours since Bobo." Once he said that, I could see lots of other evidence. If our parents were still alive, wouldn't they at least send us a letter every now and then? Wouldn't they have done everything they possibly could to come get us? Didn't they know where we were? When I asked the Freds questions like that, they patted me on the head and told me I was too young to understand. Or they talked about how life was made up of hard choices and, as our guardians, they had chosen what was best for all of us children. And what was best for civilization itself. The way the Freds talked was tricky. You had to wrap your mind around their words sometimes and turn them inside out to try to figure out what they were really saying. The way Edwy talked was tricky, too. "Rosi!" Bobo said, squirming against my grip. "I want to jump some more!" If any of the Freds saw us, I would be in trouble. I was twelve and Bobo was five; it was wrong for someone who was bigger and older and stronger to overpower someone smaller and younger and weaker. It was wrong to hold someone who didn't want to be held. "Fine," I told Bobo. "But mess up your own bed, not mine." I turned and deposited him on his own cot. I was tempted to tickle him too, to try to bring back his glee and his ear-to-ear grin. But that would have required my asking him first, Is it all right if I tickle you? And I didn't have the patience for that just then. Bobo didn't spring instantly to his feet like I expected. He didn't go back to bouncing. He just sat in a heap on his own bed and asked, as if he'd just now thought of the question: "Rosi, is it safe to go home now? Why was it too dangerous before but safe now?" I ruffled his hair and made my voice as light and carefree as a summer breeze. "You know things can change, you little apple dumpling, you," I said, using the baby name our Fred-parents had given Bobo years ago. "You know the Freds wouldn't send us home if it wasn't safe." I wasn't like Edwy. I didn't usually lie. Not on purpose. So why did I feel like I was lying to Bobo now? Excerpted from Children of Exile by Margaret Peterson Haddix All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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