together

One nice thing about the Newbery project is that I learn so much about places that I previously knew nothing about. For instance, until I read Elizabeth Miller’s Pran of Albania, I knew nothing about Albania except the sworn mountain virgins, women who swear to remain virgins and hitherto go dressed as men with a rifle slung across their back.

(Miller, searching for a reference point her readers will understand, once describes them as “nuns,” which inevitably made me think of demon-fighting nuns from anime. Nuns! With guns!)

For a while it looked like this book wasn’t going to have any sworn mountain virgins, but I should have had more faith in the 1930s Newberies to go charging right into whatever Gender is available to their plucky heroines. Of course there are sworn mountain virgins in this book! Indeed, Pran herself is a sworn mountain virgin for five whole chapters!

Then she realizes that the man she is betrothed to IS in fact the boy she has a crush on and decides that after all she wouldn’t mind getting married, because at the end of the day it’s still the 1930s and the toys have to go back in the box at the end. But before that, she uses her sworn mountain virgin status to speak at a council meeting (only men and old women and sworn mountain virgins can speak) in favor of continuing the truce that has temporarily put a halt to the law of blood feud.

The truce is in place because the mountain tribes of Albania had to band together to fight off a Slav invasion earlier in the year. During this war, Pran had an epiphany about the futility and ugliness of all war, and her later speech against the blood feud is a step on the long, long pathway toward getting rid of war entirely.

Now, to be honest, I normally groan over children’s books with the message War Is Bad, simply because I’ve read so many of them at this point. Yes, yes, war is bad, tell me something I don’t know. But it worked for me here, I think because Miller is not simply parroting received wisdom but sharing her own passionate, personal conviction, in a literary world where children’s books will argue other sides of the question.

In Miller’s Pran of Albania and Kate Seredy’s The Singing Tree, war is bad. But Herbert Best’s Garram the Hunter is an argument that war preparedness is necessary for any people who means to remain free. In Julia Davis Adams’ Vaino: A Boy of New Finland, the people of Finland win their freedom through a war that is dangerous and frightening but above all necessary, a point she makes again in Mountains Are Free, a retelling of the tale of William Tell.

You don’t know what you’re going to get, and it means that whatever you end up getting is interesting. There’s a lot to be said for cultivating the unexpected.