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Genre: Young Adult & Youth
About mahatmapoppinsLocation: New Haven, CT Age:37 Favorite novels: Underworld, The Shipping News, Winter's Tale, Galapagos, The Periodic Tale, Blindness, Abel's Island, The Golden Compass, The Last Samurai Favorite writers: Patrick O'Brien, Lloyd Alexander, Dorothy Sayers, George Saunders, Philip Pullman, John McPhee, William Steig, Annie Dillard, Primo Levi Non-noveling interests: my kids, growing things, permaculture, education, playing music, baking, learning compassion, yearning toward nonviolence, taking pictures, farmers' markets |
Joined: October 2, 2007 This Year: Official Participant NaNoWriMo History: NaNoWriMo posts: 2 NaNoWriMo buddies: 2
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Synopsis: The Orb and the Ip
All her life, Ipti has believed that it's just a pretty paperweight--a glass sphere enclosing a miniature seascape. But when a thief tries to swipe the orb, Ipti learns that it's really a map to her grandmother's buried treasure... and she sets off to reclaim the mystery of her own family history.
Excerpt: The Orb and the Ip
The thief was waiting for her, right under the same tree.
—Well? he said.
—Yes, she said. —You were right. They had a poster up with my name on it and my picture. They said it was me. Big black letters, my name. And a big blow-up from the Christmas photo last year. WANTED.
The thief shook his head. —That can’t have felt good.
—No.
—Did you say anything? Did you see them?
—I didn’t see anyone. What would I say?
—I thought you were going to tell them—
—Oh—Ipti waved her paw impatiently. —They wouldn’t listen. Obviously. You know, I’ve worked for them my whole life. That’s what really gets me. Since I was old enough to set the table. And my mother before me. And her mother! That’s how they got the orb in the first place. It was hers, you know!
—I believe you mentioned that.
—And they took it, and they told me they took it, and the worst part is I was fine with it! I didn’t even think, oh that ought to be mine, oh this is wrong. You don’t question this kind of stuff.
—It’s just your life.
—It’s just your life! You don’t question it and you don’t question it and you don’t question it, and then all of a sudden something happens and you start to question it and then your life falls apart! You have to question everything!
The thief was picking his fingernails with his knife, shaking his head in agreement. Ipti swelled out her cheeks and blew a disgusted puff of air.
—So what do we do? she said.
The thief looked up from his fingernails with innocent eyebrows. —What do we do about what?
—About the thing. About the treasure! What do we do?
Slowly, the fox folded the pocketknife closed. He looked up at her. —You want to go, then. You want to find the island? That’s what you’re saying?
—Yes.
—You’re sure? Because it’s not going to be an easy journey. It’s not the kind of thing where you can turn back halfway through. There might be no turning back at all. Because if we’re going to go we’ve got to commit to it, we’ve got to mean it. That’s the only way these journeys ever work.
Ipti thought about the portrait of her grandmother, the odd half-smile. She thought about her own picture on the WANTED poster. She lifted her chin. She nodded.
—I’m ready, she said.
