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so matter-of-factly and innocently that the simple words somehow remove the revulsion. My favorite passage in Blood Feud comes when Winnie dreams: "Instead of corn growing up out of a plowed field, I saw hands. Thick, strong men's hands, graceful women's hands; stubby children's hands; and old, veined bony hands. "When I bent over to look at them, the fingers commenced opening and closing. I felt their soft tapping on my ankles for all the world like the nibbles of fishes. Then, all of a sudden, the hands stretched up and pulled me down amongst them so that I heard what they wanted me to hear: the sound of a great heart beating underground." This girl/woman's view of herself and of her world being destroyed around her is told simply, almost childishly at times, which may be exactly what makes Blood Feud a powerful novel. -Garry Barker James Still. Paul Brett Johnson, illustrator. An Appalachian Mother Goose. Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 1998. 55 pages. $25.00. Paul Brett Johnson. A Perfect Pork Stew. New York: Orchard Books, 1998. 30 pages. $15.95. George EUa Lyon. Chris K. Sontpiet, illustrator. A Sign. New York: Orchard Books, 1998. 28 pages. $15.95. Tres Seymour. Dan Andreason, illustrator. We Played Marbles. New York, Orchard Press, 1998. 30 pages. $15.95. James Still's compilation of Mother Goose rhymes is collected from Appalachian oral tradition, most particularly from the "Blab Schools," where learning was accomplished by group recitation. The introduction is very helpful to a reader who might mistakenly pick up this book thinking to find a traditional Mother Goose compendium. While some verses are nearly identical to their better-known counterparts, others are mischievous and surprising in their alternative presentation: Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall And if he'd managed not to fall, Teeter or totter, clung to the last, We'd had an egg to break our fast. 66 James Still has brought his gift of translating Appalachian culture into print to bear on this variety of familiar and new verses. Paul Brett Johnson's delightful and amusing illustrations, done in a soft, almost elementary charcoal style, provide a witty accompaniment to the often humorous text: Hey diddle diddle, The cat played a fiddle, The cow sang ballads to the moon; The little dog laughed, He thought them daft, And the dish banged away with the spoon This is really an amusing book for all ages, but would be especially fun for parents to share with children who already know (and are perhaps bored with) the traditional Mother Goose and for grown-ups who might like a delightful glimpse at the Appalachian culture of days gone by. The book concludes with brief biographies of the author and illustrator. A Perfect Pork Stew tells the story of a Russian witch whose day starts offbadly when she spills the snake venom and trips trying to feed the goblins. With a grumpy, "Oh bat brains," she acknowledges that the day is sure to get worse, and children will be gleefully glad that she is right. Due to broken spectacles, she believes that a boy carrying a wheelbarrow load of dirt is instead carting a fine fat pig. Ivan (called "the fool" but clearly quite clever in this instance) manages to outwit her by making "dirt soup." The language is particularly colorful and is aimed at elementaryaged children who will love the fact that both the witch and Ivan underestimate each other. When the witch threatens to turn Ivan into a "stump-tailed shrew" or a "flap-legged lizard" imaginative readers will surely giggle at the visual image. Part of the reason that the language creates such wonderful images is the charming illustrations. They are very Russian in feeling, and include the requisite gnarled fingers and warty noses where appropriate. The pig, as the subject of the pork stew, actually has a very small role (in both the witch's imagination and in reality) but is among the most wickedly appealing characters in the story. Johnson's marvelous talent for endowing animals with almost more character and expression than the surrounding humans is showcased, just as in...

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