Guest A changeling tale

Mary Downing Hahn

Book - 2019

Young Mollie traverses eerie, perilous lands to retrieve her baby brother, Thomas, from the Kinde Folke, malicious sprites who snatched him and left a hideous changeling in his place.

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Subjects
Genres
Action and adventure fiction
Fantasy fiction
Published
Boston, MA ; New York : Clarion Books, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt [2019]
Language
English
Main Author
Mary Downing Hahn (author)
Physical Description
218 pages ; 22 cm
ISBN
9780358067313
Contents unavailable.
Review by Booklist Review

After Mollie makes a seemingly insignificant comment about her baby brother, the Kinde Folke steal Thomas and replace him with a changeling. Mollie's parents want to abandon the biting, screaming infant at the crossroads outside of town, but a wise old woman tells them not to. After many months, the changeling (whom Mollie named Guest) has grown incredibly fast, draining Mollie's mother and driving her father to abandon them all. Mollie decides that it is up to her to seek out the Kinde Folke and force them to reverse the exchange. But as she and Guest encounter deception and hardship, journeying deep into the forest, Mollie realizes that she is developing a genuine connection to Guest, and she's not sure if she can let him go after all. Although the narrative feels somewhat shallow, and there is an overabundance of adjectives, Hahn (The Girl in the Locked Room, 2018) dreams up a delightfully chilling tale of magic and mythology, exploring themes of love, friendship, chosen family, and overcoming one's deepest fears.--Rob Bittner Copyright 2010 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

In a striking departure from her more familiar ghost stories, Hahn (The Girl in the Locked Room) draws from Irish folklore to tell a darkly haunting tale. Mollie has grown up in a comfortable home in a village guarded by chilling superstitions. Local legends warn of the Kinde Folke, beings known to steal human babies and replace them with vile changelings. When Mollie removes her baby brother's protective necklace given to him by Granny Hedgepath, who is rumored to be a witch, Thomas promptly disappears, and a goblinlike creature is left in his place. Mollie leaves the village with the changeling child, whom she names "Guest," in hopes of finding the elusive Kinde Folke and pleading with them to exchange Guest for Thomas. Hahn blends sinister magic and unexpected tenderness as Mollie's relationship with the changeling child--who grows at a preternatural rate, quickly learning to walk and talk--evolves from spiteful to sympathetic and, finally, to loving and protective. Magical forces and frightening figures lurk throughout Hahn's story, which pays tribute to its source material while maintaining a quality of emotional rawness and originality. Ages 10--12. (Sept.)

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review

Gr 4--7--It's Mollie's fault when the Kinde Folke (a group of spiteful fairies who are neither delicate nor kind) kidnap her brother and leave Guest in his place--a sickly fairy halfling who does nothing but bite, pinch, eat…and tear her family apart. Eventually, a desperate Mollie treks to the Darklands with Guest in tow, determined to make the fairies give her brother back now that Guest is healthy again. Everyone they meet along the way has their own secret agenda, but worst of all is the Queen of the Kinde Folke. And Mollie's brother, once discovered, has no wish to leave his new family to return to a life of poverty with his old one. Can Mollie's bravery make up for her habit of speaking before she thinks? This tale by Hahn, notable for her "just right" scary stories for the upper elementary school crowd, is somewhat different than her usual offerings, veering more toward fantasy than horror. The creepy atmosphere and Mollie's determination offset her rather slow-moving journey to the Darklands, and the absence of neat endings lends a touch of reality. VERDICT A solid purchase for upper elementary school students who like a dark tale grounded in myth.--Elizabeth Friend, Wester Middle School, TX

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Horn Book Review

In a story based on Celtic and Irish folklore and legends, Mollies brother Thomas has been switched with a changeling child by the spiteful Kinde Folke, and she thinks its all her fault. Guest, the fairy baby, drives Mollies Dadoe away and wearies her Mam to illness, so Mollie takes it upon herself to return Guest to the Kinde Folke and bring her true brother home. On the journey, Mollie and Guest encounter wicked and tricky fairy folk: a Pooka, will-o-the-wisps, and the cruel queen of the Kinde Folke herself. With the help of a mysterious traveler and his obstinate son, Mollie braves temptation and danger, only to find on her arrival in the fairy realm that Thomas does not wish to be saved. She must use all her wits and courage to keep both of her brothers safe from harm. Mollies adventure is exciting, but its her growing relationship with Guest that is most memorable, as Mollie moves from despising the changeling child to feeling compassion for the unlucky creature who was unwanted by his own kind. Mollies sisterly affection toward both Thomas and Guest is her greatest strength and gives the story its heart, while the dangers she faces transform Mollie into a hero worthy of folk- and fairy tales. The storys twists and turnssome predictable, others less soprovide ample opportunity for old legends to mingle with very human concerns about family, growing up, and bravery. sarah berman September/October 2019 p.87(c) Copyright 2019. 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

Hahn, that master of middle-grade horror, turns her attention to the fairy folk.Mollie Cloverall loves her baby brother, Thomas. Despite her community's warnings and customs, she can't help but tell him what a good baby he is and how beautiful he is. The Kinde Folke, who are anything but kind, overhear her praise and wait for Mollie to borrow Thomas' iron locket, the only thing keeping him safe. Within moments Thomas has been replaced with a changeling, an ugly, ill-tempered creature who soon wears out Mollie's mother and drives her father away. Mollie decides to take the changeling, whom her mother calls Guest, back from whence he came and bring the real Thomas home. With the help of a mysterious man named Madog, this somewhat-unlikable heroine battles Pookas and other creatures of Celtic lore to win back her brother in spite of her growing affection for Guest. Readers hoping for the chills of Wait Till Helen Comes (1986) will not find them here, but this is a fast-paced, suspenseful, surprising tale of evil fairies and family loyalty. "Travelers" are portrayed as slightly ominous, part-fairy figures despite their status as an actual and marginalized community in Ireland; Mollie's village of Lower Hexham doesn't seem to be based on any real place, but Hahn's afterword places the story within an older, presumably all-white Irish context.A fun and creepy read. (Fantasy. 8-12) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

1 I WAS IN A TEMPER fit to blow the lid off a kettle of boiling water. And who wouldn't be? Since sunup, I'd been doing chores. I'd milked the cow, hauled two buckets of water from the well, fed the chickens, and then fought the hens for their eggs. Now I was down on my knees, sweat-soaked and bug-bitten, yanking weeds from the vegetable patch. My hands were caked with mud, and my nose was burned as red as a strawberry. Midges hummed around my face and bit my ears.       Wiping the sweat from my eyes, I yanked a thistle out by its roots, only to see two more hiding in the beans. I scowled at my baby brother, Thomas, who lay nearby on the grass.       "You," I muttered. "If it weren't for you, I'd be down the lane, skipping rope with the village girls. But, oh no, I must watch you and do chores as if I were a servant. You've ruined my life, that's what you've done. It's a wicked thing to say, but sometimes I wish you'd never been born!"       Thomas smiled at me and cooed as if I'd praised him. Ashamed, I clapped my hand over my mouth and hoped Mam hadn't heard me, but she was in the cottage, singing at her loom, weaving soft blankets to keep Thomas warm when winter came.       I watched Thomas playing with his toes and chuckling to himself. Truth to tell, he was a sweet baby. I'd be lying if I said he wasn't. He never fussed, never cried, he ate what he was fed, and slept the whole night through.       And he was beautiful, even though no one said so. When visitors came, they leaned over the cradle and frowned and scowled and shook their heads.       "'Tis a pity he's so ugly and puny," they'd say.       "Oh yes, he's a sickly one. He'll not live past his first year."       "And such a nasty temper he's got."       "No good will come of him."       "If I caught a fish half as ugly as that poor babby, I'd throw it back."       It was as if each visitor tried to come up with a worse insult than the one before.       And all the while, Mam and Dadoe and I smiled and nodded in agreement, for all of us, even the youngest, knew it was bad luck to compliment a baby. Since the day my brother was born, I'd been warned not to speak of his pretty curls or his blue eyes or his dimples. I mustn't boast of his sweet nature or praise him in any way.       It was the Kinde Folke we feared. Although no one in our village had seen them for many a year, they could be far away or just outside the cottage door. They were sly and full of tricks, and no matter what we called them, they were far from kind, though no one ever dared say that aloud either. If we spoke of them at all, it was to say they were wise, they were beautiful, they were brave and noble and honest in their dealings.       When in truth, if we offended them, they burned our barns and cottages, stole our livestock, sent plagues to sicken us, cursed our fields with thistles, lamed our horses, and dried up our cows' milk.       Worst of all, if the Kinde Folke learned of a beautiful baby boy's birth, they'd steal him away and leave one of their own sickly creatures in his place. And what misery the changeling would bring to its new mother. As if it weren't bad enough that her own sweet baby was gone, changelings screamed and cried and bit and pinched and broke things. She'd have no rest, that poor mother, no joy.       And so we did our best to keep Thomas safe. I watched him while Mam did her housework, and she and Dadoe watched him at night. We never even whispered sweet things to him for fear the Kinde Folke would come for him.       Their spies were everywhere. Long-eared rabbits listened in the hedges, and sharp-eyed crows watched from chimney tops. Toads in ponds, fish in streams, foxes slinking by, any and all might carry messages to the Kinde Folke.       I stabbed my trowel into the dirt and dug out a stubborn thistle. I shouldn't have spoken so crossly to Thomas. He was too young to understand my words, but he must have heard the anger in my voice.       A crow cawed, and I looked up to see him perched in a tree over my head. He ruffled his black wings and stared down at me. His dark eye reflected a sliver of light. Keeping watch on me, he cawed again. It sounded as if he were laughing at me.       Suddenly anxious, I glanced at Thomas. He'd just learned to sit up, and he was looking at me to make sure I'd noticed. The small chain he always wore around his neck lay in the grass. Its silver locket sparkled in the sunlight.       Dropping the trowel, I ran to fetch the locket. "Old Granny Hedgepath gave you this, Thomas. You're not to take it off. You'd best do what that old witch says, or she'll eat you for dinner."       Thomas laughed and clapped his hands. What did he know of witches and their ways?       I tried to slip the necklace over his head, but he grabbed the chain and held it out for me to take. Giving things to people was his new game. Most people, including me, gave them back, but Matthew down the lane had run home with the wooden cow Dadoe had carved for Thomas. I'd gone to his house and asked him for it.       "Babby give it me," Matthew wailed. Luckily for Thomas, but not for Matthew, his mam snatched the toy cow, handed it to me, and gave Matthew a smack.       I took the chain from Thomas and smiled. Without thinking, I said, "Oh, Thomas, you're so sweet. How could I ever be vexed with you? You're the best baby in the world. And the prettiest."       When I tried again to slip the chain over his head, he ducked away laughing.       I held the necklace out, but instead of continuing the struggle, I sat in the grass and admired the necklace. The silver chain was finely made, and the heart-shaped locket was decorated all over with a cunning pattern of vines and flowers. I sighed. It was much too pretty to waste on a boy.       In truth, I'd wanted the locket from the day Granny Hedgepath fastened the chain around my brother's neck. "Make sure Thomas wears this always," she'd told Mam. "Never remove it. He must eat and sleep with it around his neck. Even when you bathe him, make sure the locket stays fastened. It will protect him from mischief."       Placing her bony hand on Thomas's head, Granny added, "May the Kinde Folke of the forest find joy elsewhere and ignore this poor ugly baby."       I was watching Granny from my shadowy corner, neither moving nor speaking. It frightened me to look at her, but she drew my eyes like the evil cockatrice. Her white hair was wild and uncombed. Sticks and leaves poked out of its tangles. She had long yellow fingernails, as sharp as a hawk's talons, and her eyes were sunken so deep in their sockets, I couldn't tell their color.       Some said the old woman was a healer, others said she was a witch, but everyone in the village agreed she knew magic and spells and walked in Mirkwood at midnight. They also knew not to anger her.       Suddenly Granny turned to me in my corner. "Why are you sulking there, girl? I see your sly eyes, I hear the beat of your jealous heart. The necklace is for your brother. You have no need for it."       She spoke as if I were a wicked girl, a bad sister, someone not to be trusted. Even though it was rude, I turned my head away and scowled at the floor. How had Granny guessed I wanted that necklace? It belonged around my neck, not my brother's.       After Granny left, Mam said, "You shamed me, Mollie. I've taught you to smile and curtsy when you see Granny Hedgepath, but you did neither. What must she think of you?"       "I don't care what she thinks. Did you not hear what she said to me? She was hateful and rude."       "No, it was you who was hateful and rude." Mam looked at me. "I hope you haven't made an enemy of that old woman."       "I don't care if I have. I'm not afraid of her." If Mam had had Granny's skill, she'd have known I was indeed scared of the old woman. I knew full well I should have been polite, but my tongue had a way of getting away from me. I said what I thought and didn't think about the consequences until it was too late.       Now, far from Granny's prying eyes, I held the necklace up and watched it sparkle in the sunlight. "You want me to wear this, don't you?" I asked Thomas. "That's why you gave it to me."       He smiled so widely, I saw the buds of new teeth pushing up through his pink gums. Surely Thomas wouldn't come to harm if I wore the necklace for just a few moments. With care I undid the clasp and fastened the chain around my neck. How beautiful it was.       I should have given the necklace back to Thomas, but instead I tucked it inside my dress. I liked the smooth feel of the locket against my skin. Just for a little while, I thought. What harm could come to Thomas with me so near?       It seemed at least a dozen thistles had sprouted while my back was turned. Their thorny stems hurt my hands, and their roots held the soil tightly. I tugged and tugged until my back hurt from bending over. If I did much more weeding, I'd be an old woman before I even grew up. I'd hobble around in ragged clothes and end up as crazy as Granny Hedgepath.       While I worked, a large cloud drifted across the sun and plunged the garden into its shadow. At the same time, the breeze dropped and a strange silence fell. No leaves rustled. Chickens stopped clucking and disappeared into their coop. No birds sang. No bees hummed in the clover. The colors of flowers and grass, trees and sky faded to gray.       Worried, I got to my feet to check on Thomas. Suddenly the world seemed to spin and lurch. Colors blurred and ran together. I saw two of everything. The sky was beneath me, the grass above me. Too dizzy to stand, I fell to the ground. The last thing I heard was a crow laughing. Excerpted from Guest: A Changeling Tale by Mary Downing Hahn 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.