Borrowed Children by George Ella Lyon (review)

"exposed a rift between the cosmopolitan advocates of change and the defenders of the old local order—a rift which, in many ways, portended the savagery and bitterness to come" (67). This savagery and bitterness effectively led to the forced exile of many East Tennessee Confederates from their home state in the years following the Civil War, with the result that their stories and experiences were largely lost in what Groce terms "the myths and stereotypes of mountain Unionism" (159). Mountain Rebels is an important contribution to the emerging literature on the Civil War in Appalachia. Groce's analysis is thoughtfully written and well supported, and is accessible to both scholars and general readers. When read alongside the works of Martin Crawford, Robert Tracy McKenzie, Ralph Mann, Kenneth Noe, Gordon McKinney and John Inscoe, Groce's book lends distinctive insight into the complex features of Appalachia's Civil War. —Shannon Wilson Lyon, George Ella. Borrowed Children. Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 1999. In this young adult novel, reissued in paperback by the University Press of Kentucky, George Ella Lyon does a wonderful thing. She presents a story that is simple and timeless, but also one that can keep adult readers interested and connected. Anyone who has read Lyon's many children's books might have expected to enjoy this offering, as certainly this reviewer did. What was unexpected was the presentation . As a beautifully wrapped gift is a thing we savor, with appreciation for the beautiful ribbon, the pristine box, the colored tissue paper and finally the gift itself, so this story is a gift to the reader at each of its several levels. Twelve-year-old Amanda Perritt is the first-person narrator of Borrowed Children. Right away, in the novel's opening sentences, the reader is pulled to the interior of the situation: It's Friday. Fridays are the best because we know Daddy is coming home. He works all week cutting timber on Big Lick Mountain—too far to come back to Goose Rock every night. I wish he could. The house lights up when Daddy's here (1). The reader does not have to worry about where Big Lick Mountain is, or what Goose Creek looks like. The feeling of waiting for an absent 73 parent to return is a familiar one; it takes only a moment to stand in Amanda's shoes, and the reader is captured for the rest of the book. On one level, this is a book about a twelve-year-old girl asked to give up childhood and school in order to care for her newborn brother during her Mother's illness. She manages the home, sometimes better than other times, with grace, humor and normal resentment. There are unexpected responses on her part as her mother begins slowly to recover: It isn't ten minutes before Willie cries. I go in as usual to change him before giving him to Mama, but she's already up, crooning to him, "This boy slept all night!" she proclaims, happy as Christmas. Willie stares at her face like a great light. I try to be glad. I am glad about the sleeping, but I feel useless. I thought it was me Willie needed. "We're fine here," Mama says. "You start breakfast." Anybody'd rather hold a baby than cook (46). Amanda's parents are wise enough to realize the repercussions of their family situation, although it is not revealed until much later in the novel that there are historical reasons for their understanding. As a reward for her hard work, a gift for her sacrifice and a consolation for ceasing to be the center of Willie's universe, Mandy—her father "never calls her Amanda, no matter how serious things get" (48)—is sent to her 'Omie' in Memphis. Through time with her grandparents and her aunt and uncle, Mandy learns to appreciate the love she feels for her own nuclear family. She again sees things that, perhaps, are unfortunate for a girl of her age, but which speed her on the road to womanhood as well. Back safely with her grandparents after a revealing visit to her aunt, Mandy reflects on...