The Underneath

I am 8 years old, and I think this book is good for kids 7 and up who can take sadness, and everlasting hope. I think this book is not like anything I've read before. I like the adventure and the real bit about how people can be mean, which is a 'truth' and I don't think truths should be hid. I don't agree with the reviews that think its not ok for kids. I liked the characters, and the reality and the myth in the story.

I've stated before that if a book can make me laugh hysterically or cry hysterically, it's guaranteed a good review because it means the author has gone above and beyond. That is the case with THE UNDERNEATH. Except, a good review isn't enough for this book. It is not. I only hope that my review can begin to do justice to this amazing work. THE UNDERNEATH is lyrical, strong, and extremely well-written. It is thought provoking and "can't put it down" fantastic. Kathy Appelt does not lower the bar in the slightest from page one until the book is done. Not one bit. Appelt weaves a brilliant tale about an old, beaten-down hound dog and the felines he loves. She also weaves an almost entirely separate folktale of a miserable, bitter, shape-shifting snake. How do these two stories fit into the same book? Ask Kathi Appelt, because I'm still trying to figure out how she beautifully intertwined them. But she did. She did. In the acknowledgements, Appelt mentions advice from M.T. Anderson (THE ASTONISHING LIFE OF OCTAVIAN NOTHING) that she took to heart: "Write what you think you can't." Obviously, this author put her heart and her soul into the writing of a beautiful book, and it has paid off with a tale that will last for generations. You know that gut feeling you get when you read a book like CHARLOTTE'S WEB or THE MIRACULOUS JOURNEY OF EDWARD TULANE? That Lasting feeling? Lasting wraps itself around you and urges you to read this book carefully because you'll want it in good condition on your shelf for a long time to come. That is this book. This perfect and Lasting book. Reviewed by: Julie M. Prince

I review lots of books. Oodles of caboodles of books. And a lot of the time my thoughts can basically be boiled down to very simple sentences. "Me like book. Book good." or conversely "Me no like book. Book bad." It takes a very special story to knock me out of this frame of mind. When you pick up a copy of "The Underneath" by Kathi Appelt and you read the words, "A novel like this only comes around every few decades," on the back cover you're forgiven if you scoff a little. Uh-huh. Suuuuuure it does. But doggone it if it isn't true. Appelt in her debut novel has somehow managed to write a book that I've been describing to people as (and this is true) Watership Down meets The Incredible Journey meets Holes meets The Mouse And His Child. If that doesn't make any sense to you it is because you have never read a book quite like this. Bound to be one of those books that people either hate or love, I'm inclined to like it very very much. But that doesn't mean it isn't weird, man. Really freaky deaky weird. "There is nothing lonelier than a cat who has been loved, at least for a while, and then abandoned on the side of the road." North of the Gulf of Mexico, west of the Sabine River that divides Texas and Louisiana, three hundred miles north of Houston in far East Texas a cat is left to fend for itself in a forest with her belly full of unborn kits. She is looking for somewhere safe to live, but instead she finds Ranger. Ranger is a hound, shot be accident years ago and chained ever since to the house of a man known only as Gar Face. Ranger warns the cat that this place is dangerous and that Gar Face will kill her if he finds her, but she refuses to leave. The two curl up under the house into the Underneath and there she gives birth to two kittens that she names Puck and Sabine. Unbeknownst to them Gar Face searches the nearby swamps for a massive alligator, hoping to kill it and earn the respect of the men he despises. And even further in the forest a bowl waits, containing a serpent known only as Grandmother Moccasin who remembers how she was trapped and contemplates her imminent escape. All storylines finally coincide in unpredictable, interesting ways. I brought this book up with a fellow children's librarian, the first I'd run into that had also read the story. When asked what she thought she said, "I liked it. But I couldn't figure out who it was written for." This is more than a little understandable. The story is dark. Dark in tone and in content. Yet I think "The Underneath" will definitely have its fans and not just librarians and booksellers either. I've already heard from a couple sources about kids being read this book in class and being desperate to hear at least one more chapter. Not all children will dig it, of course. If you've a ten-year-old that can't read Charlotte's Web because they find Charlotte's death too disturbing, boy oh boy is this NOT the book for them. Other kids though, the ones with thic

Wow. What a book. What a story. What an amazing piece of writing. Now I admit it took me a while to read this one. While I definitely enjoyed sad animal stories as a child, now, with the occasional exception, I avoid them. And so, when I received a gorgeously packaged ARC of Kathi Appelt's The Underneath, I admired it (as it is handsomely illustrated by David Small) , and then read the flap. "An abandoned calico cat, about to have kittens, hears the lonely howl of a chained-up dog...." Nope. Not for me. Until someone told me it reminded her of Russell Hoban's The Mouse and his Child which happens to be one of my favorite books. So yesterday, feeling lousy with allergies, a head cold, and a painful hip (can't run which is misery for me), I pulled out the ARC and read it. And was immediately and utterly drawn in. I read without pausing till I was done. What a remarkable book. It is an adventure, a story of myth and magic, of sadness, of family -- and is very beautifully done indeed. Yes, it is sad. Yes, there are abused animals. Even worse, some dead ones too. But, oh my goodness, is it rich and complex and gorgeous. I would have loved, loved, loved it as a child. While I can see why someone might compare it to The Mouse and his Child because of the journey aspect of the story, the setting, and the sentiment within (and the illustrations as Small also did an edition of the Hoban book), it seems extremely different to me. Another book this reminded me of was Kate DiCamillo's The Tale of Despereaux. The darkness, the multiple plot threads (from different points in time) all coming together slowly, the allegorical qualities, the magical elements are in both. But DiCamillo's like Hoban's has humor. Be warned that Appelt's book is deadly serious. Actually, the more I think about it the more it reminds me of Rudyard Kipling's The Jungle Books, still books I love, love, love. What is it about? Hard to describe. It takes place in a deep Southern swamp -- a place full of sentient trees, of intelligent animals, of shapeshifting creatures, a place of misery and mystery, a place of magic and myth. Within this magical yet hyper real place are two twisting and intersecting groups of beings. There is the bad man, an abused dog, a calico cat and her twin kittens. And then there is the other group. The magical and mythical one. The story threads swirl and twist around each other, a mix of the past and the present. Just writing this makes me get all hyperbolic. Sorry! Suffice it to say I recommend it and look forward to hearing what others think about it.

"But when she got to the place where the hound sang, she knew that something was wrong. "She stopped. "In front of her sat a shabby frame house with peeling paint, a house that slumped on one side as if it were sinking into the red dirt. The windows were cracked and grimy. There was a rusted pickup truck parked next to it, a dark puddle of thick oil pooled beneath its undercarriage. She sniffed the air. It was wrong, this place. The air was heavy with the scent of old bones, of fish and dried skins, skins that hung from the porch like a ragged curtain. Wrong was everywhere. "She should turn around, she should go away, she should not look back. She swallowed. Perhaps she had taken the wrong path? What path should she take? All the paths were the same. She felt her kittens stir. It surely wouldn't be safe to stay here in this shabby place. "She was about to turn around, when there it was again -- the song, those silver notes, the ones that settled just beneath her skin. Her kittens stirred again, as if they, too, could hear the beckoning song. She stepped closer to the unkempt house, stepped into the overgrown yard. She cocked her ears and let the notes lead her, pull her around the corner. There they were, those bluesy notes." After being abandoned by her former owners in East Texas bayou country, and having been drawn through the woods by the lonely song of the chained-up, often-unfed hound dog named Ranger, a pregnant calico cat arrives at the isolated home of Ranger's bitter, violent, and disfigured owner, Gar Face. There, in the the dark space beneath the slumping house -- the Underneath -- the calico cat gives birth to her son Puck and her daughter Sabine. The two young kittens are repeatedly warned by their mother and Ranger about the danger posed by the hard-drinking, rifle-wielding Gar Face and that to be safe they must always remain in the Underneath. Tragedy strikes when Puck's curiosity causes him to not heed those warnings. THE UNDERNEATH is in large part the story of Puck's subsequent journey. Meanwhile: "She has been trapped for a thousand years. But she is older than that, much older. Lamia. She is cousin to the mermaids, the ondines, the great sealfolk known as selkies, perhaps the last of her kind." THE UNDERNEATH is also the story of another mother, Grandmother Moccasin, and what befell her a thousand years earlier in the days when a native people named the Caddo inhabited the area along the creek that has since come to be called the Little Sorrowful: "And all around, the watchful trees, the oldest ones, shimmered. They knew that Grandmother Moccasin, when she awoke, would not be happy. The trees knew, but they also recognized the moment for what it was: a love so strong that there was no going back for either one. So for just a little while, the soughing trees used their own ancient magic to stir up the Zephyrs of Sleep. To keep all the others in the forest a-snoozing until Hawk Man and Night Song, in their brand-new