Welcome to my Reading Room where you can read the First Chapter of my novel, The Song Spinner, originally published in 1994 by Red Deer Press. The best-selling novel received the Canadian Children’s Book Centre “Our Choice” Award. It was based on my award-winning screenplay for Showtime.
“The Song Spinner will delight readers of all ages and provide them with much material for serious thought.” Kliatt Review
“This charming allegory carries many messages, not least among them courage and the beauty of music…A good choice for young readers with a bent for fantasy.” NAPRA REVIEW
“…an enjoyable, well-woven fantasy.” Vancouver Sun
“Timeless and timely. A story to touch the hearts of both young and old alike.” Amazon.com
THE SONG SPINNER CHAPTER ONE
It was a sound. A sweet sound. High and light. And it twirled in the air like an acrobat turning somersaults. Then it tumbled down a waterfall, swam to shore and stretched out lazily on a sunny rock.
Aurora woke up suddenly. Another dream. Another dream of beautiful sound. And just in time for her birthday. It had been months since the last dream, and she’d worried that she might never have another one.
Then she heard it again. A real sound. She wasn’t dreaming this time.
Aurora opened her eyes. All she saw in the darkness was the outline of the brick chimney at the foot of her bed. She knew the chimney would be cold by now. It would give her no warmth until mother went downstairs to light the kitchen stove for breakfast.
“Tibo,” Aurora called gently. “Are you awake?”
But her younger brother, asleep on the other side of the chimney, did not stir in his bed.
Aurora reached under her pillow for the box of wooden matches. She struck one and lit the candle on her bedside table. She sat up and looked around the room. Everything was the same. The feather quilt, the washstand, the rag rugs making polka dots across the floor.
Then she heard the sound again. As lovely as the song a flower would sing. And she saw the window curtain billow like a sail.
“Is anyone there?” she whispered. But no one answered.
This was very strange. All her life, Aurora had wakened to silent mornings. No church bells ringing, no rooster crowing, nothing to announce the new day. In the peaceful land of Pindrop, noise was forbidden.
The curtain moved again.
She wrapped herself in the feather quilt, rolled out of bed and hobbled across the floor. A cold draft flowed from underneath the curtain. The window must have blown open during the night.
Aurora pulled the curtain aside and peered through the frosty windowpane. No sun yet. It was still hiding below the horizon. The only light came from the moon, hanging high in the sky like a lantern. She opened the window wider. An icy slap stung her face. Winter had arrived. There, in the moonlight, snowflakes glittered like frozen stars.
The sound was even closer now.
Aurora grabbed the edge of the windowsill and stuck her head out into the frozen morning as far as she could without falling over. She looked down to the ground and up to the sky and down to the ground again. The snow shining in the moonlight made the world seem clear and bright.
She saw the snow-dusted cobblestone streets and the leafless linden trees, their skeletal shapes like soldiers keeping watch. She saw the little pigs in their pen, huddled together for warmth. Wait. One … two … three … one was missing. Her favorite, the one she had named Pepper.
Perhaps he was sniffing in the strawberry patch again, hoping to find a sweet red berry among the snow and dried leaves. Yes! There he was. And there was someone with him.
Aurora squinted. A stranger. An old woman with long hair as white as the snow. And, oh, how strangely she was dressed. Instead of the usual long cape of gray or brown wool, she wore a jumble of odd-colored shawls and skirts.
Over her shoulder she carried a worn leather pouch. In her right hand was a birdcage. The sound seemed to be coming from her direction.
What was she doing here? wondered Aurora. Perhaps she was one of those gypsy people who passed through selling pots and things.
Aurora watched in amazement as Pepper began to move. He lifted one leg up and down and then the others. He turned his body around in a circle as if he were dancing to the beautiful sound. Then the old woman stroked Pepper’s head. Aurora thought she could see him smiling, a lopsided, piggy grin.
“Feathers,” whispered Aurora. “She’d better not steal my pig.”
The old woman turned, almost as if she had heard Aurora speak, and looked up at the window. Aurora caught her breath. A warm wave came over her, the kind you get when you step into a hot bath. She glowed from the top of her head right down to her toes. When she looked out again, Pepper was alone. The old woman was gone. And so was the beautiful sound.
Aurora shivered. She had no idea how long she had been standing there. She leaned out the window, but there was no sign of the old woman. Then she saw a figure walking away from the house. It was her father, Selmo the Whisperer. Was he off to the Whispering Hall for the morning service? It seemed much too early for that. Perhaps he, too, had heard the beautiful sound and had come outside to investigate.
Aurora closed the window quickly. It made no noise, for in the land of Pindrop, all windows were padded to dampen the sound. And the hinges were oiled every other week.
She shivered again, but this time from excitement. Ever since she could remember, she had heard sounds inside her head, lovely sounds that it seemed no one else in Pindrop heard. But this was the first time she had heard a beautiful sound on the outside. She danced lightly around the room and over to Tibo’s bed.
“Get up, slug juice,” said Aurora. “Today’s my birthday.”
Tibo yawned and pulled the quilt over his head. “Wake me up when it’s time for the Sunwatch.”
The Sunwatch was the most important holiday in Pindrop. It was a time to celebrate the winter solstice, the end of long, dark nights and the beginning of brighter, longer days leading to spring. Preparations for the big event had begun soon after the harvest, with the men carving wooden toys, and the women baking Sunwatch cookies and making long thin candles. Aurora had ten days of holiday from school. Ten days to herself, to go for long walks along the river and listen to the sounds in her head. There was really only one thing wrong with the Sunwatch: it showed up two days after Aurora’s birthday, which meant everyone was too busy to pay much attention to her special day.
Aurora punched her fist into Tibo’s quilt. He stuck out one hand and pinched her on the arm.
“Oooh,” she moaned quietly, “I’m in danger for my life.”
She walked to the washstand, poured water from a pitcher into the metal basin, splashed the cold water onto her face and wiped it dry with the hem of her flannelette nightshirt. Then she took down a Hush Cloth from the cupboard. Everyone in Pindrop wore Hush Cloths — small pieces of wool felt, held together with a leather thong — around their necks. That way, if they had to silence a cough or a sneeze, or needed to be especially quiet, they could simply lift the Hush Cloth over their mouths. “I think this is going to be my best birthday,” said Aurora, adjusting the cloth below her chin. “My best birthday, ever.”
AFTER A BREAKFAST of mashed turnip and sunflower seeds, Aurora helped her mother wash the dishes.
Megla the Dressmaker was a very tidy woman, the tidiest person Aurora had ever known. She never got stains on her woolen dresses or mud on her boots the way Aurora did. It seemed to Aurora that everything about her mother was perfect. Even her hair. Unlike Aurora’s, which flew about her face as if it had a life of its own, her mother’s hair was always tucked into a perfect circle at the back of her head like the pumpernickel dinner buns Panio the Baker made.
Sometimes Aurora sat in the kitchen and watched her mother while she sewed. She marveled at the small, even stitches and the way her mother cut the cloth smoothly and silently. Whenever Aurora tried to help with the cutting, she left ragged edges. And no matter how she held the scissors, they squeaked, which made her mother cross.
Megla did everything in silence, including the dishes. “The Silent Way is the best way,” she always said. The dishpan was lined with sponges so that the dishes wouldn’t rattle. The wet plates were stacked onto thick towels. And after the plates were dried, Aurora placed each one onto a quilted mat in the cupboard the way her mother had taught her.
But Aurora was not giving her full attention to the dishes. She was thinking of the beautiful sound and the strange old gypsy woman. Suddenly, she felt a large bowl slip from her hands. She caught it just before it landed on the floor. Megla didn’t often get cross, but when she did, it usually had something to do with noise.
“I heard a very strange sound early this morning,” said her mother, quietly.
“A sound?” Aurora blushed and placed the bowl very carefully into the cupboard.
“It was that pig of yours,” Megla continued. ”I’m sure of it. He wasn’t properly trained in the first place. He’ll have to go back and learn the Silent Way once and for all.”
“Not Pepper. He’s as quiet as a feather pillow. You must give him another chance.”
“We’ll see,” said her mother. “I’ll wait until after the holidays. Till then, do your best to shush him up. He listens to you. Now, take this to Lorio the Shopkeeper.” Megla handed Aurora a shopping list. “And don’t dawdle by the river. I have a lot of cleaning to do before the Sunwatch.”
Aurora looked around the kitchen. Gleaming copper pots hung from the ceiling, the wood floor sparkled with beeswax and the large dining table had been scrubbed so often the wood was wearing away. She couldn’t see anything that needed cleaning. Dust and crumbs didn’t dare linger in her mother’s kitchen.
Aurora sighed and walked into the cloakroom. She took down her cape from a hook, wrapped it around her shoulders and reached for her old brown boots. Then she remembered the new boots her aunt had sent her from Faraway. They were in a box in the corner. She lifted the lid. How wonderful. Red and shiny, with a small brass buckle at the ankle.
Hands trembling, she slipped on one red boot, then the other. Her feet had never looked more beautiful. She began to imagine the envious glances of the other children when her Mother interrupted her.
“I hope a certain young lady isn’t thinking of wearing her new boots,” she said from the kitchen. “They have to be brought to the shoemaker first for silencing. We can’t have you clomping all over town.”
Aurora’s mother was right. It said so in the Hush Law.
Frilo the Magnificent, ruler of Pindrop, had ordered it: “All shoes and boots must be silenced with rubber soles — at least two inches thick.”
And yet … it was her birthday. Would anyone notice that her boots hadn’t been silenced if she walked very, very quietly? If she walked on tiptoe and scarcely put her feet down at all? Aurora decided they wouldn’t.
Quickly, she stuffed her old brown boots into the box the new ones had come in. Then she tiptoed out the door, unaware that she was about to begin an adventure. An adventure that would forever change her life and the lives of everyone in the peaceful land of Pindrop.
The Song Spinner is my award-winning tale about a land where people are not allowed to make music. I gave birth to the story four times – as an award-winning novel published by Red Deer Press in 1994; an international award-winning feature length movie (an Emmy nomination and a Cable ACE Award for Best Writing, as well as an Emmy nomination for Best Picture and Best Actress – Patti Lupone). The film was produced by Showtime and broadcast in 1995, and also starred Brent Carver, Meredith Henderson, and John Neville. CBC commissioned me to write a radio drama version which was broadcast in 1997 and featured Duncan McPherson as Captain Nizzle, and me as Zantalalia, the mysterious gypsy woman who refuses to stop singing. A few years later, Vancouver Youth Theatre commissioned me to write a play for children to perform. This was one of my favourite versions with a stand out performance by Nick Porteous, a magnificent 16-year-old Captain Nizzle, who is now studying theatre at George Brown College Theatre program.
In the silent Land of Pindrop, silence is not only golden it is the law. Young Aurora hears beautiful noises in her head, and while she does her whispering lessons like other good children, she dreams of a day when everyone one will make joyful sound again. When she meets the mysterious Zantalalia and learns the truth about music, she must find the courage to stand up to Captain Nizzle of the Noise Police.
“An enchanting fable – great family entertainment ****.”
… (Mick Martin & Marsha Porter’s Video Movie Guide)
“A delightfully subversive yarn.”
. . . Edmonton Journal
“The Song Spinner will delight readers of all ages and provide them with much material for serious thought.” Kliatt
“…a charming fantasy novel.” London Free Press
You can purchase a copy of The Song Spinner novel for $12 by leaving a reply below.
But… I want the next one!!!! 🙂
Diane! It’s been a long time. I know you’ve been waiting patiently for the sequel to The Song Spinner but the muses said otherwise. I am currently working on a book, entitled Becoming Intimate with the Earth, to be published in the spring. Hope all is well with you and your family.
Hello! Is this where I can request to purchase the book? We would love to have a copy!!
Yes, Susan. This is where you can order a copy. When I get your details I will autograph it for your daughter and put it in the mail. Pauline
I would love to buy a copy – Sue Hall