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Greenwitch

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About The Book

The Drew siblings must face a powerful creature from the ocean depths to reclaim the golden grail in this third installment of Susan Cooper’s epic and award-winning The Dark Is Rising Sequence, now with a brand-new look!

The priceless golden grail that Simon, Jane, and Barney Drew worked so hard to recover has been stolen by forces of evil. Great-Uncle Merry takes the siblings back to Trewissick in Cornwall, where he expects the Dark has hidden the grail. There, they are joined by Will Stanton, a mysterious boy with astounding powers.

But there are more forces at play than they realize, and when the village women create the disturbing ritual creature called the Greenwitch—an ancient image made of leaves and branches and cast into the sea for good luck in fishing—Jane must face the unknown without help. The Greenwitch springs to life with vengeful power and is called forth from the ocean depths by the Dark to set loose the unpredictable Wild Magic of the earth. To prevent this dreadful entity from unleashing devastating damage, Jane must convince Greenwitch to turn toward the Light. But can she ever hope to tip the balance against the Dark?

Excerpt

Chapter One CHAPTER ONE
ONLY ONE NEWSPAPER CARRIED THE story in detail, under the headline: TREASURES STOLEN FROM MUSEUM.

Several Celtic works of art were stolen from the British Museum yesterday, one of them worth more than £50,000. Police say that the theft appears to be the result of an intricate and so far baffling plan. No burglar alarms were set off, the showcases involved were undamaged, and no signs have been found of breaking-in.

The missing objects include a gold chalice, three jewelled brooches and a bronze buckle. The chalice, known as the Trewissick Grail, had been acquired by the Museum only last summer, after its dramatic discovery in a Cornish cave by three children. It had been valued at £50,000, but a Museum spokesman said last night that its true value was “incalculable,” due to the unique inscriptions on its sides which scholars have so far been unable to decipher.

The spokesman added that the Museum appealed to the thieves not to damage the chalice in any way, and would be offering a substantial reward for its return. “The grail is an extraordinary piece of historical evidence, unprecedented in the whole field of Celtic studies,” he said, “and its importance to scholars far exceeds its intrinsic value.”

Lord Clare, who is a trustee of the British Museum, said last night that the chalice—

“Oh do come out of that paper, Barney,” Simon said irritably. “You’ve read it fifty times, and anyway it’s no help.”

“You never know,” said his younger brother, folding the newspaper and cramming it into his pocket. “Might be a hidden clue.”

“Nothing’s hidden,” said Jane sadly. “It’s all too obvious.”

They stood in a dejected row on the shiny floor of the museum gallery, before a central showcase taller than the rows of identical glass cases all round. It was empty, save for a black wooden plinth on which, clearly, something had once been displayed. A neat silver square on the wood was engraved with the words: Gold chalice of unknown Celtic workmanship, believed sixth century. Found in Trewissick, South Cornwall, and presented by Simon, Jane and Barnabas Drew.

“All that trouble we had, getting there first,” Simon said. “And now they’ve simply come and lifted it. Mind you, I always thought they might.”

Barney said, “The worst part is not being able to tell anyone who did it.”

“We could try,” Jane said.

Simon looked at her with his head on one side. “Please sir, we can tell you who took the grail, in broad daylight without breaking any locks. It was the powers of the Dark.”

“Pop off, sonny,” Barney said. “And take your fairy stories with you.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Jane said. She tugged distractedly at her pony tail. “But if it was the same ones, somebody might at least have seen them. That horrible Mr. Hastings—”

“Not a chance. Hastings changes, Great-Uncle Merry said. Don’t you remember? He wouldn’t have the same name, or the same face. He can be different people, at different times.”

“I wonder if Great-Uncle Merry knows,” Barney said. “About this.” He stared at the glass case, and the small, lonely black plinth inside.

Two elderly ladies in hats came up beside him. One wore a yellow flowerpot, the other a pyramid of pink flowers. “That’s where they pinched it from, the attendant said,” one told the other. “Fancy! The other cases were over here.”

“Tut-tut-tut-tut,” said the other lady with relish, and they moved on. Absently Barney watched them go, their footsteps clopping through the high gallery. They paused at a showcase over which a long-legged figure was bending. Barney stiffened. He peered at the figure.

“We’ve got to do something,” Simon said. “Just got to.”

Jane said, “But where do we start?”

The tall figure straightened to let the be-hatted ladies approach the glass case. He bent his head courteously, and a mass of wild white hair caught the light.

Simon said, “I don’t see how Great-Uncle Merry could know—I mean he isn’t even in Britain, is he? Taking that year off from Oxford. Sab—whatsit.”

“Sabbatical,” Jane said. “In Athens. And not even a card at Christmas.”

Barney was holding his breath. Across the gallery, as the crime-loving ladies moved on, the tall white-haired man turned towards a window; his beak-nosed, hollow-eyed profile was unmistakable. Barney let out a howl. “Gumerry!”

Simon and Jane trailed blinking in his wake as he skidded across the floor.

“Great-Uncle Merry!”

“Good morning,” said the tall man amiably.

“But Mum said you were in Greece!”

“I came back.”

“Did you know someone was going to steal the grail?” Jane said.

Her great-uncle arched one white-bristling eyebrow at her, but said nothing.

Barney said simply, “What are we going to do?”

“Get it back,” said Great-Uncle Merry.

“I suppose it was them?” Simon said diffidently. “The other side? The Dark?”

“Of course.”

“Why did they take the other stuff, the brooches and things?”

“To make it look right,” said Jane.

Great-Uncle Merry nodded. “It was effective enough. They took the most valuable pieces. The police will think they were simply after the gold.” He looked down at the empty showcase; then his gaze flicked up, and each of the three felt impelled to stare motionless into the deep-set dark eyes, with the light behind them like a cold fire that never went out.

“But I know that they wanted only the grail,” Great-Uncle Merry said, “to help them on the way to something else. I know what they intend to do, and I know that they must at all costs be stopped. And I am very much afraid that you three, as the finders, will be needed once more to give help—far sooner than I had expected.”

“Shall we?” said Jane slowly.

“Super,” said Simon.

Barney said, “Why should they have taken the grail now? Does it mean they’ve found the lost manuscript, the one that explains the cipher written on the sides of the grail?”

“No,” said Great-Uncle Merry. “Not yet.”

“Then why—”

“I can’t explain, Barney.” He thrust his hands into his pockets and hunched his bony shoulders. “This matter involves Trewissick, and it does involve that manuscript. But it is part of something very much larger as well, something which I may not explain. I can only ask you to trust me, as you all trusted me once before, in another part of the long battle between the Light and the Dark. And to help, if you are sure you feel able to give help, without perhaps ever being able fully to understand what you are about.”

Barney said calmly, pushing his tow-coloured forelock out of his eyes: “That’s all right.”

“Of course we want to help,” Simon said eagerly.

Jane said nothing. Her great-uncle put one finger under her chin, tilted her head up and looked at her. “Jane,” he said gently. “There is absolutely no reason to involve any of you in this if you are not happy about it.”

Jane looked up at the strongly marked face, thinking how much it looked like one of the fierce statues they had passed on their way through the museum. “You know I’m not scared,” she said. “Well, I mean I am a bit, but excited-scared. It’s just that if there’s going to be any danger to Barney, I feel—I mean, he’s going to scream at me, but he is younger than we are and we oughtn’t—”

Barney was scarlet. “Jane!”

“It’s no good yelling,” she said with spirit. “If anything happened to you, we’d be responsible, Simon and me.”

“The Dark will not touch any of you,” Great-Uncle Merry said quietly. “There will be protection. Don’t worry. I promise you that. Nothing that may happen to Barney will harm him.”

They smiled at one another.

“I am not a baby!” Barney stamped one foot in fury.

“Stop it,” said Simon. “Nobody said you were.”

Great-Uncle Merry said, “When are the Easter holidays, Barney?”

There was a short pause.

“The fifteenth, I think,” Barney said grumpily.

“That’s right,” Jane said. “Simon’s start a bit before that, but we all overlap by about a week.”

“It’s a long way off,” Great-Uncle Merry said.

“Too late?” They looked at him anxiously.

“No, I don’t think so…. Is there anything to prevent the three of you from spending that week with me in Trewissick?”

“No!”

“Nothing!”

“Not really. I was going to a sort of ecology conference, but I can get out of that….” Simon’s voice trailed away, as he thought of the little Cornish village where they had found the grail. Whatever adventure might now follow had begun there, deep inside a cave in the cliffs, over sea and under stone. And at the heart of things now, as he had been then, would always be Great-Uncle Merry, Professor Merriman Lyon, the most mysterious figure in their lives, who in some incomprehensible way was involved with the long struggle for control of the world between the Light and the Dark.

“I’ll speak to your parents,” his great-uncle said.

“Why Trewissick again?” Jane said. “Will the thieves take the grail there?”

“I think they may.”

“Just one week,” Barney said, staring pensively at the empty showcase before them. “That’s not much for a quest. Will it really be enough?”

“It is not very long,” said Great-Uncle Merry. “But it will have to do.”

Will eased a stem of grass out of its sheath and sat down on a rock near the front gate, despondently nibbling. The April sunshine glimmered on the new-green leaves of the lime trees; a thrush somewhere shouted its happy self-echoing song. Lilac and wallflowers scented the morning. Will sighed. They were all very well, these joys of a Buckinghamshire spring, but he would have appreciated them more with someone there to share the Easter holidays. Half his large family still lived at home, but his nearest brother James was away at a Scout camp for the week, and the next in line, Mary, had disappeared to some Welsh relations to recuperate from mumps. The rest were busy with boring older preoccupations. That was the trouble with being the youngest of nine; everyone else seemed to have grown up too fast.

There was one respect in which he, Will Stanton, was far older than any of them, or than any human creature. But only he knew of the great adventure which had shown him, on his eleventh birthday, that he had been born the last of the Old Ones, guardians of the Light, bound by immutable laws to defend the world against the rising Dark. Only he knew—and because he was also an ordinary boy, he was not thinking of it now.

Raq, one of the family dogs, pushed a damp nose into his hand. Will fondled the floppy ears. “A whole week,” he said to the dog. “What shall we do? Go fishing?”

The ears twitched, the nose left his hand; stiff and alert, Raq turned towards the road. In a moment or two a taxi drew up outside the gate: not the familiar battered car that served as village taxi, but a shiny professional vehicle from the town three miles away. The man who emerged was small, balding and rather rumpled, wearing a raincoat and carrying a large shapeless holdall. He dismissed the taxi, and stood looking at Will.

Puzzled, Will scrambled up and came to the gate. “Good morning,” he said.

The man stood solemn for a moment, then grinned. “You’re Will,” he said. He had a smooth round face with round eyes, like a clever fish.

“That’s right,” Will said.

“The youngest Stanton. The seventh son. That’s one up on me—I was only the sixth.”

His voice was soft and rather husky, with an odd mid-Atlantic accent; the vowels were American, but the intonation was English. Will smiled in polite incomprehension.

“Your father was the seventh in that family,” the man in the raincoat said. He grinned again, his round eyes crinkling at the corners, and held out his hand. “Hi. I’m your Uncle Bill.”

“Well I’m blowed!” said Will. He shook the hand. Uncle Bill. His namesake. His father’s favourite brother, who had gone off to America years and years ago and set up some sort of successful business—pottery, wasn’t it? Will did not remember ever having seen him before; he was sent a Christmas present each year by this unknown Uncle Bill, who was also his godfather, and he wrote a chatty letter of thanks annually as a result, but the letters had never had a reply.

“You’ve grown some,” said Uncle Bill as they walked to the house. “Last time we met, you were a little scrawny bawling thing in a crib.”

“You sound like an American,” Will said.

“No wonder,” said Uncle Bill. “I’ve been one for the last ten years.”

“You never answered my Christmas letters.”

“Did that bother you?”

“No, not really.”

They both laughed, and Will decided that this uncle was all right. Then they were in the house, and his father was coming downstairs; pausing, with an incredulous blankness in his face.

“Billy!”

“Roger!”

“My God,” said Will’s father, “what’s happened to your hair?”

Reunions with long-lost relatives take time, especially in large families. They were at it for hours. Will quite forgot that he had been gloomy over the absence of companions. By lunchtime he had learned that his Uncle Bill and Aunt Fran were in Britain to visit the Staffordshire potteries and the china-clay district of Cornwall, where they had business of some complex Anglo-American kind. He had heard all about their two grown-up children, who seemed to be contemporaries of his eldest brother Stephen, and he had been told rather more than he really wanted to know about the state of Ohio and the china-making trade. Uncle Bill was clearly prosperous, but this seemed to be only his second trip to Britain since he had emigrated more than twenty years before. Will liked his twinkling round eyes and laconic husky voice. He was just feeling that the prospects for his week’s holiday had greatly improved when he found that Uncle Bill was staying only one night, on his way from a business trip to London, and travelling on to Cornwall the next day to join his wife. His spirits drooped again.

“Friend of mine’s picking me up, and we’re driving down. But I tell you what, Frannie and I’ll come and spend a few days on our way back to the States. If you’ll have us, that is.”

“I should hope so,” said Will’s mother. “After ten years and about three letters, my lad, you don’t get away with one mouldy twenty-four hours.”

“He sent me presents,” Will said. “Every Christmas.”

Uncle Bill grinned at him. “Alice,” he said suddenly to Mrs. Stanton, “since Will’s out of school this week, and not too busy, why don’t you let me take him to Cornwall for the holiday? I could put him on a train back at the end of the week. We’ve rented a place with far more space than we need. And this friend of mine has a couple of nephews coming down, about Will’s age, I believe.”

Will made a strangled whooping sound, and looked anxiously at his parents. Frowning gravely, they began a predictable duet.

“Well, that’s really very good of—”

“If you’re sure he won’t be—”

“He’d certainly love to—”

“If Frannie wouldn’t—”

Uncle Bill winked at Will. Will went upstairs and began to pack his knapsack. He put in five pairs of socks, five changes of underwear, six shirts, a pullover and a sweater, two pairs of shorts, and a flashlight. Then he remembered that his uncle was not leaving until the next day, but there seemed no point in unpacking. He went downstairs, the knapsack bouncing on his back like an overblown football.

His mother said, “Well, Will, if you’d really like to—Oh.”

“Good-by, Will,” said his father.

Uncle Bill chuckled. “Excuse me,” he said. “If I might borrow your phone—”

“I’ll show you.” Will led him out into the hall. “It’s not too much, is it?” he said, looking doubtfully at the bulging knapsack.

“That’s fine.” His uncle was dialling. “Hallo? Hallo, Merry. Everything okay? Good. Just one thing. I’m bringing my youngest nephew with me for a week. He doesn’t have much luggage”—he grinned at Will—“but I just thought I’d make sure you weren’t driving some cute little twoseater…. Ha-ha. No, not really in character… okay, great, see you tomorrow.” He hung up.

“All right, buddy,” he said to Will. “We leave at nine in the morning. That suit you, Alice?” Mrs. Stanton was crossing the hall with the tea-tray.

“Splendid,” she said.

Since the beginning of the telephone call, Will had been standing very still. “Merry?” he said slowly. “That’s an unusual name.”

“It is, isn’t it?” said his uncle. “Unusual guy, too. Teaches at Oxford. Brilliant brain, but I guess you’d call him kind of odd—very shy, hates meeting people. He’s very reliable, though,” he added hastily to Mrs. Stanton. “And a great driver.”

“Whatever’s the matter, Will?” said his mother. “You look as though you’d seen a ghost. Is anything wrong?”

“Nothing,” said Will. “Oh no. Nothing at all.”

Simon, Jane and Barney struggled out of St. Austell station beneath a clutter of suitcases, paper bags, raincoats and paperbacks. The crowd from the London train was dwindling about them, swallowed by cars, buses, taxis.

“He did say he’d meet us here, didn’t he?”

“?’Course he did.”

“I can’t see him.”

“He’s a bit late, that’s all.”

“Great-Uncle Merry is never late.”

“We ought to find out where the Trewissick bus goes from, just in case.”

“No, there he is, I see him. I told you he was never late.” Barney jumped up and down, waving. Then he paused. “But he’s not on his own. There’s a man with him.” A faint note of outrage crept into his voice. “And a boy.”

A car hooted peremptorily once, twice, three times outside the Stantons’ house.

“Here we go,” said Uncle Bill, seizing his holdall and Will’s knapsack.

Will hastily kissed his parents good-by, staggering under the enormous bag of sandwiches, Thermos flasks and cold drinks that his mother dumped into his arms.

“Behave yourself,” she said.

“I don’t suppose Merry will get out of the car,” said Bill to her as they trooped down the drive. “Very shy character, pay no attention. But he’s a good friend. You’ll like him, Will.”

Will said, “I’m sure I shall.”

At the end of the drive, an enormous elderly Daimler stood waiting.

“Well well,” said Will’s father respectfully.

“And I was worrying about space!” said Bill. “I might have known he’d drive something like this. Well, good-by, people. Here, Will, you can get in front.”

In a flurry of farewells they climbed into the dignified car; a large muffler-wrapped figure sat hunched at the wheel, topped by a terrible hairy brown cap.

“Merry,” said Uncle Bill as they moved off, “this is my nephew and godson. Will Stanton, Merriman Lyon.”

The driver tossed aside his dreadful cap, and a mop of white hair sprang into shaggy freedom. Shadowed dark eyes glanced sideways at Will out of an arrogant, hawk-nosed profile.

“Greetings, Old One,” said a familiar voice into Will’s mind.

“It’s marvellous to see you,” Will said silently, happily.

“Good morning, Will Stanton,” Merriman said.

“How do you do, sir,” said Will.

There was considerable conversation on the drive from Buckinghamshire to Cornwall, particularly after the picnic lunch, when Will’s uncle fell asleep and slumbered peacefully all the rest of the way.

Will said at last: “And Simon and Jane and Barney have no idea at all that the Dark timed its theft of the grail to match the making of the Greenwitch?”

“They have never heard of the Greenwitch,” Merriman said. “You will have the privilege of telling them. Casually, of course.”

“Hmm,” Will said. He was thinking of something else. “I’d feel a lot happier if only we knew what shape the Dark will take.”

“An old problem. With no solution.” Merriman glanced sideways at him, with one bristly white eyebrow raised. “We have only to wait and see. And I think we shall not wait for long….”

Fairly late in the afternoon, the Daimler hummed its noble way into the forecourt of the railway station at St. Austell, in Cornwall. Standing in a small pool of luggage Will saw a boy a little older than himself, wearing a school blazer and an air of self-conscious authority; a girl about the same height, with long hair tied in a pony-tail, and a worried expression; and a small boy with a mass of blond, almost white hair, sitting placidly on a suitcase watching their approach.

“If they are to know nothing about me,” he said to Merriman in the Old Ones’ speech of the mind, “they will dislike me extremely, I think.”

“That may very well be true,” said Merriman. “But not one of us has any feelings that are of the least consequence, compared to the urgency of this quest.”

Will sighed. “Watch for the Greenwitch,” he said.

Reading Group Guide

About the Book

As the third volume in the Dark Is Rising Sequence opens, the priceless golden grail discovered in Over Sea, Under Stone has been stolen by forces of the Dark. To help recover this Thing of Power, Great-Uncle Merry brings Simon, Jane, and Barney Drew back to Trewissick, a charming fishing village in Cornwall. Along with Will Stanton, a boy of eleven but also one of the Old Ones, the group continue the quest to recover the grail, against the backdrop of the annual building of the Greenwitch, a figure built of leaves and branches by the women of Trewissick to bring good luck in fishing. When the Greenwitch is summoned by the forces of the Dark to give up a secret, Jane must convince this ancient creature to defend the Light. But can she face her fears to make the Greenwitch share her guarded secret?

Discussion Questions

1. When Barney first encounters the mysterious painter making a picture of the harbor, he notices the “crude bright colours” and questions the man about a particular shade of green, “a particularly nasty shade, a yellowy, mustard-like green.” (p. 25) He thinks to himself, “‘that colour was all wrong.’” What does Barney mean by “wrong”? How can color elicit emotion? What do you think the color green represents in the artist’s painting?

2. Reread chapter three, in which the women of the village construct the Greenwitch. As she witnesses the Greenwitch taking form, Jane experiences a powerful emotional reaction: “Her horror came not from fear, but from the awareness she suddenly felt from the image of an appalling, endless loneliness. Great power was held only in great isolation. Looking at the Greenwitch, she felt a terrible awe, and a kind of pity as well.” Why do you think Jane pities something that she knows isn’t alive? Later, she wishes for the Greenwitch to be happy, to which a village woman says, “‘A perilous wish! . . . For where one may be made happy by harmless things, another may find happiness only in hurting.’” What do you think the village woman means by this statement?

3. Chapter four opens with Jane worrying about the morning mist, telling Simon doubtfully, “‘I don’t know . . . It looks funny to me, more like a kind of danger signal.’” How is Jane’s sensitive nature important in the story? Jane has a dream of the Greenwitch falling to the bottom of the sea, and in it Jane also enters the sea and converses with the Greenwitch. In this dream, why is the Greenwitch like a petulant child? How does Jane’s interaction with the Greenwitch show Jane’s goodness? Why does the Greenwitch guard her secret with such ferocity?

4. Discuss how secrets, and the keeping and guarding of them, represent a theme of Greenwitch. Why do you think the Greenwitch wants to be left alone?

5. What is intuition? Throughout the story, many characters, including Will, the Drew children, and even Rufus the dog act on intuition. Discuss key moments in the story in which intuition changes the course of the plot. How do these moments of intuition foreshadow danger?

6. Tethys, queen of the sea, as well as the Greenwitch, are part of what Merriman refers to as the Wild Magic. How is the natural world both wild and magical? Provide examples from the story and from your own experience. Merriman reminds Tethys that, “‘The Wild Magic has neither allies nor enemies.’” (p. 87) How is this statement true of the natural world?

7. In trying to cast a spell on the Greenwitch to make her relinquish her secret, the painter reveals his arrogance. What is arrogance? How is arrogance a negative quality of human beings? Discuss the following description found in chapter eleven: “But the command in the voice of the man of the Dark now was like ice; it was the cold absolute arrogance that through centuries past had brought men down to terror and grovelling obedience.”

8. What does it mean to be self-serving? How is the painter self-serving? Why does the Greenwitch feel that human beings are self-serving? How is a caring nature the opposite of a self-serving one? Once the Greenwitch learns that her secret is important to Jane, her anger begins to soften: “‘You made a wish that was for me, not yourself. No-one has ever done that. I give you my secret, in return.’” (p. 133) How do you think the Greenwitch feels at the moment she decides to turn over her secret to Jane? Why do you think she feels this way?

9. Jane wishes for the Greenwitch to be happy, which in turn brings the scroll back to the Light. Discuss the power of wishes. How does Jane’s wish reveal her innate compassion?

Extension Activities

- A Swirl of Green. The painter of the Dark uses colors to conjure his evil spells. His painting and its intense colors produce feelings of uneasiness in Barney. Discuss how color represents and produces emotion. Share examples of art that use color as a way of conveying feelings. (https://www.arthistorykids.com/blog/2016/8/30/exploring-colors-and-emotions-in-paintings). Give students time to create a work of art that uses a dominant color to express a feeling.

- Nature Sculpture. The Greenwitch is a figural sculpture that the women of Trewissick assemble each year to bring luck to the village fishermen. Like a totem, they create the figure with branches, leaves, and other natural materials. Depending on what season you are in, give students time to collect natural materials around your school grounds or from a nearby park. Work with the art teacher to help students create small sculptures to honor and celebrate the season.

- The Wish Tree. After the Greenwitch is assembled, the women of the village each make a wish to the figure before it is thrown into the sea. Instead of wishing for something for herself, Jane wishes for the Greenwitch to be happy. Create a tree out of construction or butcher paper with a sturdy trunk and a system of branches. Throughout the year, students can add leaves to the branches with written wishes for good things to happen in their community, the country, and the world.

- The White Lady. Tethys, a Greek Goddess of the ocean, is also referred to in Greenwitch as the White Lady. Embark on a unit of ocean study, focusing on major threats to the world’s ocean brought about by climate change, human activity, and pollution (https://oceanliteracy.unesco.org/threats-to-the-ocean/). Place students in small research pods. Each pod will tackle one of the major issues detailed in the Unesco article. Give students time to do an in-depth study. Students can share their findings in a digital slide presentation.

Guide created by Colleen Carroll, literacy educator, content creator, and author of the How Artists See series (Abbeville Kids). Learn more about Colleen at www.colleencarroll.us.

This guide has been provided by Simon & Schuster for classroom, library, and reading group use. It may be reproduced in its entirety or excerpted for these purposes. For more Simon & Schuster guides and classroom materials, please visit simonandschuster.net or simonandschuster.net/thebookpantry.

About The Author

Photograph © Tsar Fedorsky Photography 2013

Susan Cooper is one of our foremost fantasy authors; her classic five-book fantasy sequence The Dark Is Rising has sold millions of copies worldwide. Her books’ accolades include the Newbery Medal, a Newbery Honor, the Boston Globe–Horn Book Award, and five shortlists for the Carnegie Medal. She combines fantasy with history in Victory (a Washington Post Top Ten Books for Children pick), King of Shadows, Ghost Hawk, and her magical The Boggart and the Monster, second in a trilogy, which won the Scottish Arts Council’s Children’s Book Award. Susan Cooper lives on a saltmarsh island in Massachusetts, and you can visit her online at TheLostLand.com.

Product Details

  • Publisher: Margaret K. McElderry Books (November 14, 2023)
  • Length: 176 pages
  • ISBN13: 9781665932929
  • Grades: 3 - 7
  • Ages: 8 - 12

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Awards and Honors

  • School Library Journal Best Books of the Year
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