The long wall in the upstairs hallway of the house where I have lived
for 28 of my 30 years is covered with shelves, and those shelves are
covered with books. They’re grouped rather strangely, in loose
categories, some more logical than others. The most organized portion is
the long stretch of Newbery books that I’ve been collecting since the
age of eight or so.
I started by simply buying some books
because they interested me and noticing that they’d received this award.
I began picking them up on the strength of that word alone, whether
from school catalogs, book swaps or library sales, and over the years
I’ve amassed a sizable collection of Newbery Medal and Newbery Honor
books, alphabetized by the author’s last name. However, because I buy
them on the strength of the award and not from any particular or
immediate interest, many of them go on the shelf and remain there for
years, half-forgotten until something compels me to pick one of them up.
This week, I returned to the Newbery shelf for Elizabeth George
Speare’s The Sign of the Beaver.
Just a glimpse at the
cover, which depicts young Matt, a 12-year-old settler left to fend for
himself for several weeks in the wilds of Maine while his father fetches
the rest of the family, and 14-year-old Attean, the Penobscot boy he
befriends, is enough to furnish some idea of the book’s contents. Set in
the late 1700s, it’s a tale of adaptability and cross-cultural
understanding.
I’ve always loved wilderness survival stories, from Scott O’Dell’s Island of the Blue Dolphins and Arthur Roth’s The Iceberg Hermit to Gary Paulsen’s Hatchet series and, of course, the ultimate shipwrecked survivor story, Daniel Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe,
which, appropriately enough, is the only book that Matt owns, one that
he’s read multiple times. That element was the main thing that drew me
to LOST, which ended up becoming my all-time favorite television
series, though it ultimately had more to do with people from different
backgrounds learning to live together in harmony. In some ways, so does
this book.
Over the course of 25 chapters, Speare weaves a
compelling tale in which not a word is wasted. Her artful descriptions
of the landscape and the activities in which Matt and Attean engage root
the reader immediately in the book’s very particular setting. On page
after page, I marveled at the beauty of her writing; she’s the sort of
author who can make a would-be wordsmith like me shake her head and
mutter, “Jeepers, why do I even bother?” Take, as a small sample, this
autumnal reflection from chapter 18: “The maple trees circling the
clearing flamed scarlet. The birches and aspens glowed yellow, holding a
sunlight of their own even on misty days.” She takes just as much care
when she allows us to peer into the soul of our protagonist, Matt, like
she does in chapter 16 in this sparse but searing exploration of his
growing fear that his family may never return. “Matt hugged his arms
around his chest. But the cold was inside. It would not go away.”
In
the beginning, Matt is alone. His days stretch before him in isolation,
but he is comfortable in the cabin he and his father built together,
and he is proud of the work he is doing to feed himself and maintain
their lodging. But when an unfortunate incident causes him to lose his
rifle, the days grow more difficult, and his diet becomes limited enough
to tempt him to brave a swarm of angry bees for just a taste of honey.
It is this expedition that ultimately leads him to the solemn, elderly
Saknis and his scowling grandson Attean.
Saknis proposes a
treaty: he will provide food for the struggling Matt, and Matt will
teach Attean how to read, a skill in which the sullen boy clearly has
little interest. Yet he returns, almost daily, to Matt’s cabin, and
despite his lack of interest in deciphering words on a page, he is
engrossed by Robinson Crusoe, which Matt reads to him, carefully
omitting passages that paint the former cannibal Friday in a demeaning
light. Attean speaks very little. But gradually, he opens up to Matt and
begins to show him some of his secrets: how to build a snare, how to
construct a bow and arrows, how to recognize the signs of various
tribes. His spoken English improves along with his subtle humor, and
Matt picks up bits and pieces of Attean’s speech as well, particularly piz wat, “good-for-nothing,” his favorite term to describe his mangy, bedraggled dog.
The
book is only about 130 pages long, so it’s a fairly quick read, yet
Speare paces the progression perfectly so that each chapter signifies a
slight advancement in the boys’ understanding of each other. Then, in
the final chapters, she brings Matt to what this Star Trek geek can only term a Kobayashi Maru – a no-win scenario.
Autumn
is wearing on, and Matt’s father, a kind but taciturn man who reveals a
great deal through small gestures, has been gone more than twice as
long as expected. Attean has come to feel like a brother, and Matt finds
welcome among his people, but game is becoming scarce, and the time has
come for them to move on and find land upon which settlers have not yet
encroached. Saknis issues an invitation, and Matt must make a choice.
Should he join these people he has come to know and love or remain and
wait for the increasingly uncertain arrival of his parents and siblings?
Give up his best friend or his family? Matt has had to take on immense
responsibility for several months, but making this irrevocable decision
may be the hardest task of all. Either path entails separation and loss.
Which way will he go, and how will he come to terms with the
consequences?
Years ago, I read The Witch of Blackbird Pond, another historical novel about cross-cultural understanding for which Speare received the Newbery Medal. The Sign of the Beaver
only received the Newbery Honor designation, but it is no less
engrossing or enriching. Both as an educational slice of American
history and a touching tale of how strangers can overcome their
differences to become friends, this novel succeeds beautifully. Part of
Matt’s maturation process is the painful lesson that sometimes,
embracing one dream means forsaking another, and we feel that keenly
along with him. But every step in the journey is important for Matt and
revealing for us in this book that is quite the opposite of piz wat.
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