Much shorter than expected, or maybe I just enjoyed the read so much that I was saddened when I finished. Either way, a good read.
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This story unfolded exactly as I wanted it to. It's what I always dream for and what few stories seem willing to offer--but more can't be said without spoilers (or perhaps even that little bit is a spoiler, if you stop and think about it).

Too often in stories of here and there, however there is conceived, the one who is being tantalized into there ends up not going... they are brought back here, either willingly or unwillingly, or they come to a bad end. It's as if, having set up how wonderful a place there is, we have to solace ourselves somehow--since *we* are clearly not there--by making it always be that one can't really stay there, it's not the wondrous place it seems to be, the price you must pay is too great, etc. etc.

But there's a part of us, isn't there--a green, wild part--that doesn't believe that at all. And this story honors that: eleven-year-old Brian goes there and stays there.

A poignant parallel: his father had had a similar chance, but had a heart too full of here to leave. He came back here, but weeping at what he had to leave behind. Brian, who chooses to go there and stay, weeps when he leaves here. So it's not that leaving here is done casually, that nothing's lost; it is: but the call is too strong, and the joy of being there too great.

Favorite line in the story:

All forests are one forest, if you know how to look at them

And this is true, and if you walk the right way, you can move among them all, but this is something I only realized in my forties--whereas Brian has that knowledge revealed to him at age eleven.

Happy travels, Brian!


( )

This story unfolded exactly as I wanted it to. It's what I always dream for and what few stories seem willing to offer--but more can't be said without spoilers (or perhaps even that little bit is a spoiler, if you stop and think about it).

Too often in stories of here and there, however there is conceived, the one who is being tantalized into there ends up not going... they are brought back here, either willingly or unwillingly, or they come to a bad end. It's as if, having set up how wonderful a place there is, we have to solace ourselves somehow--since *we* are clearly not there--by making it always be that one can't really stay there, it's not the wondrous place it seems to be, the price you must pay is too great, etc. etc.

But there's a part of us, isn't there--a green, wild part--that doesn't believe that at all. And this story honors that: eleven-year-old Brian goes there and stays there.

A poignant parallel: his father had had a similar chance, but had a heart too full of here to leave. He came back here, but weeping at what he had to leave behind. Brian, who chooses to go there and stay, weeps when he leaves here. So it's not that leaving here is done casually, that nothing's lost; it is: but the call is too strong, and the joy of being there too great.

Favorite line in the story:

All forests are one forest, if you know how to look at them

And this is true, and if you walk the right way, you can move among them all, but this is something I only realized in my forties--whereas Brian has that knowledge revealed to him at age eleven.

Happy travels, Brian!


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Based on other reviews, I think I expected more out of this book, fantasy wise. I pictured talking trees and dancing animals-straight Pocahontas style. But the subtle darkness I found instead was just as pleasing, if not more welcomed.

This novella of a mere 77 pages had me deep rooted in Hendersen, BC, all green fields and thick forests. Brian spends most of his waking hours in that exact forest, where he's most at ease and free. His father spends his time in his shop, grease elbowed and waist deep underneath his cars. Alternating narration between the two, with Brian's narration being the events before his disappearance, the story opens with Brians unhappiness about having to spend spring break in the city with his mother, a precursor to ultimately moving in with her. I emphasized with Brian's glumness instantly, I loathed having to switch between houses every other weekend, why couldn't I just stay in one house? I hated packing the most.

During one of his treks in the woods, Brian is startled by a young girl named Carly, who he is immediately mystified by. Together they delve into parts of the forest Brian could never have imagined existed. It is here that the book begins to take on a magic realism feel, and I couldn't help but want it to go on for another hundred pages. Brian becomes beautifully carefree and unburdened, and the author does a great job of placing us right at his heels- I smelled, felt and saw every petal, every glistening dew drop. When Brian doesn't return from the woods one night, I felt the loss at my core before his father does. Before his father is faced with himself; himself as a father, an ex-husband, and a young boy, who had once, himself, went missing in quite the same manner his son did-though he holds no recollection of it.

I felt a loss not for his disappearance, but for the world in the woods that the author crafted so effortlessly. I wanted to stay with Brian-to watch his musings, witness what he discovered, and felt, and loved. This book was small, but was so big in so many other ways. It had a few typos and grammatical errors, but such small things were overshadowed by the beauty of the writing and feeling of pure and simple magic. I am looking forward to picking up Before I Wake by this author. ( )

This creepy little book is part horror story and part fairy tale. A divorced dad, Jeff, lives with his 11-year-old son Brian in rural British Columbia. Their home sits next to a forest which Brian spends all of his free time exploring. One day Brian goes missing and from that point forward we see the story from both Jeff and Brian’s points of view.

I knew almost nothing about this book when I picked it up. The cover is gorgeous and the title comes from William Butler Yeats' poem "The Stolen Child." I won’t give a single thing away about the plot, because what I enjoyed the most about it was not knowing where the story would end.

I will say that Wiersema maintains a tense suspense throughout the story. It’s easy to picture yourself in the shoes of both the curious young boy and the terrified father. This is a quick read, but definitely worth it.

“You never really get a look at your own life, until you’re showing it to someone else.”

In addition to the novella, the book also contains an essay about fictionalizing real places when you write. It was a really interesting to read about the thin, but essential, line between an author’s hometown and the nonexistent setting in his novel. Even though the places may be indistinguishable, Wiersema stresses the importance of always recognizing the difference between them. The author needs the freedom to imagine whatever character or events they want and if they see the place as real they won’t allow themselves to do that. Fascinating, no? ( )