Author: Donna Jo Napoli
Cover Artist: Michael McCartney/Michael Frost
Publisher: Simon Pulse
Binding: Paperback
Publication Date: October 2008
In many ways, Melkorka is a typical fifteen year old girl. Self-centered and all-knowing, she often has to be reminded that she talks out of turn, sometimes at inopportune moments, and as her mother scolds, “you really need to learn when to hush.” Unlike some teenagers, though, she does bear respect for her elders and her parents in particular. She quotes her father as a habit, and relies on his wisdom, while considering her mother’s words carefully. As a princess in Ireland at the end of the first millennium, she is less different from young women of other eras than one might think. Her love of language and poetry is a common adolescent interest today; she is fascinated by her younger brother’s gift for storytelling, with his voice sweet enough to bring milk forth from cows, and is certain that poetry, sung by a traveling bard, is the highlight of parties.
Melkorka’s contempt for slaves stands out as a striking contrast to her timeless teenage traits. The abbott preaches in the cathedral that the practice of slavery should be banned, but Melkorka’s father insists that slaves are necessary to the Irish way of life. Her brother carries an anger that shines in his eyes when offered a slave girl for purchase – “civilized people don’t own other people.” Melkorka believes that most slaves are stupid, or they would not be slaves in the first place. She does not consider that they are people in their own right, no different from herself. In a violent turn of events, she and her younger sister become the victims of slave traders who treat her and their other captives – women and children - as the base creatures she has assumed slaves to be.
Melkorka learns quickly that to these men, she is “nothing but a pile of dirty clothing.” Her captors are rough when provoked, quick to slap or hit, and they single out a woman to rape repeatedly. Melkorka is moved to protect the children as best she can: “my body shields these children. It is a small thing, but it’s mine, and it makes me glad.” She is powerless at the hands of the traders, but realizes that her lack of control brings a clarity that recalls her mother’s command to hush, be silent, be aware.
Words continue to be of value to her, in the midst of several foreign tongues. On a constantly moving ship with new captives added as they are plucked from the changing landscape, one of the slaves begins to tell stories, to offer her companions an escape from the harshness of their shared reality, their “one future, no past.” Melkorka’s sister jumps from the ship, leaving her older sister behind in a quest for freedom. She “rides a current of fantasy” within the storyteller’s web, without her baby sister but charged, somehow, with the care of the other children. She earns the nickname “Aist,” or stork, amongst the slavers, as storks are well-known for their excellent treatment of their chicks. She has yet to speak during her ordeal; this failure, or refusal, to communicate is of great interest to her captors. Another slave tells her to keep her mouth shut, reminiscent of her own mother’s advice: “a slave life counts for nothing unless the slave finds a trick. You’ve found yours. Stick to it. Hush.”
Author Donna Jo Napoli is a prolific producer of fairy tales and mythological retellings, and as a professor of linguistics, clearly a master of language. Melkorka reflects the care with which Napoli herself must regard words, the careful and measured use one might make in an assertion of strength and power. As Melkorka reflects, “I am the master of what I say.” Words are powerful, and as Melkorka discovers, so is their absence. In spite of language differences, the slaves are able to communicate and comfort each other, to offer advice, help, and compassion in an incomprehensible situation.
Napoli, who was inspired by the Icelandic Saga of the People of Laxardal, leaves Melkorka in charge of her future, one that is surprisingly hopeful in spite of her trials. Readers used to Napoli’s no-nonsense approach to difficult issues, along with her lyrical delivery, will not be disappointed; those new to the Napoli fold will be no less captivated.
