CHANGELING
The Oddmire, Book One
by William Ritter
Algonquin Young Readers
Middle Grade Fantasy
272 pages
COMING...
JULY 16th, 2019!!!
Magic is fading from the Wild Wood. To renew it, goblins must perform an ancient ritual involving the rarest of their kind—a newborn changeling. But when the fateful night arrives to trade a human baby for a goblin one, the goblin Kull is briefly distracted from his task of laying the changeling in a human infant’s crib. By the time he turns back, the changeling has already perfectly mimicked the human child. Not knowing which to return to the goblin horde, he leaves both babies behind. Tinn and Cole are raised as human twins, neither knowing what secrets may be buried deep inside one of them. When a mysterious message arrives calling the brothers to be heroes and protectors of magic, the boys must leave behind their sleepy town of Endsborough and risk their lives in the Wild Wood to discover who they truly are
MY TIDBITS
In hopes of renewing the goblin magic, a goblin uses the very rare chance to exchange a human boy with a changeling. But he gets distracted and can't seem to figure out which one is which. The mother, despite knowing something isn't right, simply keeps both, raises them and loves them with her whole heart. Until one day, the boys wander off into the woods to discover the secret of who they really are.
Changelings are a mystical folklore which carries a sense of dark dread and intrigue at the same time. While I wondered if the author could really pull these creatures down to a middle grade level, my suspicions weren't not only unwarranted, but completely blown away. The author weaves a fantastic tale with the heart-warming bond of brotherly (and motherly) love. And yet, there is so much dark creepiness and chills to insure young readers won't put this one down.
The characters are easy to connect to and react as any boy that age would. While adventure and shadows remain high on every page, there's a nice amount of humor built in to keep it light at just the right times. While more sensitive readers might find the spooky side to be a bit heavy, others will love the dive into this story about the creatures of folklore. It's magical, mystical, dark and inspiring.
SNEAK PEEK
PROLOGUE
A VERY LONG TIME AGO, HUMANS AND FAIRIES
and elves and dolphins
and all of the other intelligent beings of the world got sick of one another—which was understandable, as
intelligent beings
were all pretty much rubbish
in those days.
After much arguing, they
decided to split up the
world and build
a sort of magical wall
between the two halves. On the human side of the barrier, life would be governed by logic and reason
and the laws of nature. It would be an honest world of soil and
struggle. The other side would be ruled by forces
more ancient than any earthly science,
a world of magic and madness
and raw potential. Humans called
their side the Earth,
and
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magical beings
called their side the Annwyn (all except for the
gnomes, who called it Pippin-Gilliewhipple—which
is one of many
reasons that, to this day, nobody
from either side
much cares for gnomes).
For many
centuries, the wall stood—a sort of veil between two worlds, invisible but everywhere. Neither side could see
or touch the other,
and in time
many creatures forgot
there was another
world at all.
This remained the state of things until rogue groups brought their simmer- ing strife
to an unruly boil and a new war
broke out. As it turned out, intelligent beings
were still fairly
rubbish if not properly supervised. The resulting battle
blasted a great, gaping hole right through the invisible
barrier.
When the dust had settled,
some felt the hole in the wall
should be patched
back up, and others
felt the barrier should
come down entirely. In all the hubbub,
nobody noticed as the thing that
had been inside the
wall—the thing
that may have been the
very soul of
the wall—escaped. Nobody
was watching as the
thing that had spent countless centuries
listening at the cracks and growing
hungrier and hungrier
slipped past the rubble
and across the bloody
battlefield. Nobody saw it slide quietly into the forest.
The Thing
clutched at shadows as it moved
between the trees, drawing
the darkness around itself
like a rid- ing cloak. It had never known sunlight,
or birdsong, or
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honey-sweet breezes, or even the
sound of its own name. If
the Thing even had ever had a name, it had never had anyone
to speak it.
The Thing
whipped past
mossy boulders, through tow- ering trees, and over the muggy,
murky Oddmire.
When it reached the very heart
of the Wild Wood, it finally slowed
and came to rest. The trees grew
more densely there, and the
air was still. Even the sound of the birds died away. The shadows here were thick and heavy, and the Thing
gathered them up, greedily.
The Thing
knew shadows. In that sunless, starless place between worlds,
there had been shadows so absolute they had no form. The Thing’s
whole world had been a shadow—its whole life had been one great shadow, and within it, the Thing had felt impossibly small.
But the shadows in this new place
were different. They would do as it bid them. They
were powerful, those shadows of stones and boulders
and tall pine trees,
and the pieces torn from them felt comfortable as they knit
together across the Thing’s
back. The Thing felt strong.
Beneath its swelling cloak of darkness, the Thing began to take on new shapes. Bigger shapes. Terrible shapes. Still,
there was one shadow that caught the Thing like a thorn: its own. The creature’s meager slip of a shadow followed it, clung to it, taunted
it with its own true, trifling form.
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The creature plunged its talons into the forest
floor, and for a time, the
only sound was
the scratching of unseen claws digging
into the soil. When the hole was deep enough,
the Thing turned
its talons in on itself. It tore and it ripped
until finally, reverently, it lowered its own severed shadow
into the cold earth
and buried the humble scrap beneath the dirt. All around it,
pools of darkness blossomed as if
the entire forest floor
were a fresh, clean napkin
laid over a seeping ink stain.
The darkness grew.
The Thing
drew itself up to its full height,
and then it drew
itself up a little
higher, and higher still. Countless stolen shadows rippled along its cloak like waves of grain
shimmering in a breeze. The
Thing would
be whatever it pleased now. It was never going back.
The
darkness spreading across the forest floor solidified into angry coils and knots as it grew. Wicked thorns
burst from its surface. For just a moment, there was silence and
the forest was still.
And then the darkness began
to creep.
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And here he is...
William Ritter is an Oregon author and educator. He is the proud father of the two bravest boys in the Wild Wood, and husband to the indomitable Queen of the Deep Dark.The Oddmireis Ritter’s first series for middle-grade readers. He is also the author of the New York Times bestselling, award-winning Jackaby series for young adult readers. Visit him online at rwillritter.wordpress.com and find him on Twitter: @Willothewords.
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