Phyllis A. Whitney (1903–2008)

Phyllis Whitney was one of my favorite authors during the teenage years. I'd forgotten how much I enjoyed her work.

Her writing is dense, but still reads quickly. I don't mean dense in a bad way. I simply mean that her writing paints detailed word pictures for the reader. E.G., describing the interior of a church: "Out of the sun's heat, the air inside seemed several degrees cooler....At the foot of the main aisle, the high walls of wooden pews rose on either hand, and her apprehension show more increased....Susan tilted her head back to encompass high spaces of floating light - light that poured in filtered beams through three oxeye windows set into deep eaves."

The other thing that I love about her writing is that she literally keeps you guessing till the very end, much like Hitchcock or Christie. You may think you know who-done-it, but you may very well be wrong.

Finally, I love the way this one ended - the actual story, yes, but also the manner in which it is written. You have the exciting climax; then you have a calm chapter to tie up the loose ends. Think of the battle scene at the end of the original Star Wars; then the scene with the award ceremony. Very satisfying.

In another life, this would have been a quick afternoon's or evening's read. Now, life gets in the way. show less

Phyllis A. Whitney was known for her books of romantic gothic suspense and mystery, but she also wrote wonderful mysteries for children and young adults. Those books were always more than the sum of their parts, and The Vanishing Scarecrow is no exception.

Whitney adeptly wove into her mystery stories, gentle life lessons that made you feel like you were richer and had more understanding of the adult world by the time you’d turned the final page. As a youth, her stories not only show more entertained, but brought you that tiny bit closer to being an adult. Whitney’s combination of old-fashioned values and insight into the feelings of young ones struggling to grow up and understand what it was all about, marked her books for pre-teens and teenagers as special, as they remain today.

The Vanishing Scarecrow is slightly unusual however, in that there is quite a bit of exciting action along the way, especially in a frantic finale that contains a revelation that changes everything. Younger readers, and, I suspect older ones as well, will find Joan to be one of Whitney’s most endearing young protagonists. The theme park designed by Joan’s uncle to ignite the imagination of children and give them some thrills along the way, to teach them they can be brave, makes a splendid set piece and backdrop to the intrigue and mystery of the incidents going on in the park after Joan and her mother arrive as caretakers of Uncle Agate’s dream, upon his death.

I won’t go into more, but it’s both fun and exciting, with some lovely moments and life lessons along the way. Unlike most Whitney books, this one has an older young adult ending as well; the ending allows readers to imagine scenarios for Joan’s future, rather than having everything tidied up for them. They too, are taught to use their imaginations.

A wonderful Whitney young adult classic, which was a Christmas gift I’ll read more than once for sure. Highly recommended, but if you’re a nostalgic adult, it might make you a little wistful that no one like Whitney is around any longer, guiding readers through their youth while entertaining them so memorably. show less

“Perhaps she dozed for a while. She could not be sure. Then, quite suddenly, she was awake again and there was the same prickling that had run through her before, warning her that all was not well. Beyond the paper shoji she heard a faint sound that was like someone crawling very softly along the veranda. So Stephen and Hiro were awake and listening too.” — Secret of the Samurai Sword

I had fond memories of this book from my youth. Receiving it from a friend as a Christmas gift this show more past year, it did not disappointment. Phyllis A. Whitney’s Secret of the Samurai Sword is as magical now as it was as a child. Discovering her books in my youth made me fall in love with reading, so without her, I would not have discovered Robert Nathan’s Portrait of Jennie later on, or John D. MacDonald’s Travis Magee series, which took me further, turning that love of reading into a love for writing and telling stories.

Whitney was unlike most who penned books for children, because she also wrote award winning gothic romance/mysteries for adults. But even beyond that distinction, no one came close to the magic she created within her mysteries for young adults. Whether they were in their very early teens or late teens, she had an uncanny understanding of the human heart at that age, and it came across beautifully but gently as she weaved her mysteries around real young people, capturing perfectly what it was like to be young. But she made her adults ring true as well, bridging the gap between youth and adulthood.

Samurai Sword is a clean read, full of understanding and laced with the life lessons always so gently present in Phyllis Whitney’s young adult mysteries. Reading this again after all these years made me wish that today’s kids and young adults had a Whitney to read, rather than the social agenda propaganda being shoved down their throats, or the darkness and gruesomeness so prevalent even in books marketed toward their age group.

When Celia and her older brother Stephen travel from America to Japan to spend summer with their somewhat young and vibrant grandmother, it proves to be the adventure of a lifetime. Because it was Whitney writing this, it is also a learning and growing adventure, but so deftly eecuted that a young reader will barely realize they are learning so much about Japanese culture and customs; and in essence learning deeper truths which they will take with them on their journey into adulthood :

{There were tears in Celia’s eyes. It was as if she herself had been to Hiroshima and stood before the tomb, weeping as many who came there wept, American as well as Japanese.
“Japanese believe those dying in violence do not sleep well,” Hiro said. “But in Hiroshima we tell them to sleep, for this shall never happen again.” He looked at her earnestly, almost pleadingly. “Japan makes error. America makes error. But these words do not mean to apologize for wrong. By ‘we’ monument means mankind. It is man who must never make error again. You understand Ceriasan? It is not for fighting my grandfather wants sword.”}

Hiro is Stephen’s age, the older brother of Celia’s new friend, Sumiko. Sumiko is a nisei, both American and Japanese. Having come to live with her famous artist grandfather in Kyoto, she is more than a little reluctant to embrace her Japanese roots, and feels an outcast. Her grandfather, who lives across from where Celia and Stephen and her grandmother are staying, and used to own that house as well, was once famous for painting pictures of warriors and battle, but after the war, and the loss of a son, he now only paints nature. Sumiko explains to Celia :

“He says that the beauties of nature have grown more dear to him than ever, for they contrast with the suffering Japan has known. He hopes that one day all nations will live at peace with the beauty about them and not try to destroy it.”

Celia has a talent for drawing too, and this is noticed by Sumiko’s grandfather. But noticed by both is the ghostly figure of the wounded Samurai who appears late at night in the garden between the two houses, near the ancient bomb shelter. Celia’s complicated relationship to her photo-bug brother, her growing friendship with Sumiko, a ghostly samurai, a hidden lacquered box containing a key of sorts and something artistic which may be part of a missing/destroyed sword of great spiritual value, make for a wonderful mystery full of both excitement, and learning moments.

Whitney balances beautifully all the cultural excursions and family turmoil as seen both from the eyes of Celia and Sumiko, and the adults of the story, who have their own very important parts to play in the narrative. A visit to a movie set is especially fun, and you will never forget the casket filled with slips of paper, or Kiyomizu. Both fun yet gently substantive, this is childhood perfection that no one writing today could ever equal.

"Around midnight the quiet was broken by the mournful notes of the soba man’s flute, as he went his rounds offering bowls of hot buckwheat noodle soup to any who might be up at that hour. Always, always, Celia thought, no matter how far away from Japan she might be, she would remember those few haunting notes piercing the lonely quiet of the night. The flute and the sound of geta — these she would remember and they would always mean Japan to her."

Children will learn a lot about Japan, but also about life. Mostly they will come away with warm and tender feelings, and will have grown up in some small but important ways simply by reading Secret of the Samurai Sword. This wonderful story has a marvelous uplifting ending which takes place at the Daimonji Festival in Kyoto, and the story has my highest recommendation.

I’ll leave you with these words from the author herself :

“In Kyoto I was introduced to a well-known artist and visited his home, where he painted a lovely picture for me, just as the artist in the story does for Celia. The visit to the movie studio was another real adventure, although it was not so exciting in real life as it could be made in a story. Perhaps that is the most satisfying thing about writing fiction. I am able to live again the wonderful experiences I have had in distant places, and yet I can make them doubly exciting through the adventures of my characters.” — Phyllis A. Whitney (September 9, 1903 - February 8, 2008) show less

“Remember where you are, Caroline. This is M a u i. There are mysteries here that men have never touched — good and evil. I don’t want to deny any of the old powers.” — Marla


Phyllis A. Whitney was a wonderful writer who wrote mysteries for young people, and tales of gothic romance and mystery for adults. In some ways, Silversword is atypical of her work because the gothic element and setting is missing, but in another way it is one of her finest, highlighting her deft talent for show more storytelling, and her uncanny ability to keep the reader involved in the intrigue. In Silversword — a lovely plant which blooms at ten year intervals then dies — the intrigue involves a dysfunctional family guarding a secret, and the recently divorced Caroline, who must find out the truth so that she can move forward with her life, and find her own place in the world:


“My grandmother Elizabeth believes that my father was murdered.” — Caroline

“I’ve always had the feeling that might be so myself. The atmosphere at Manaolana was too strange for the accident theory.” — David


But it will in no way be easy for Caroline to get at the truth, with everyone else involved with the incident wanting it left alone:

“I’ve often wondered what really happened. In a way, it’s convenient that no one could tell the story afterward. Just the same, Caroline, I think you should accept the fact you don’t really know the truth. I wonder if anyone does, or ever will.” — Ailina


Having grown up reading her mysteries for children, I had always been aware of Whitney’s strong connection to Japan, but not her close ties to Hawaii. She expounds on them in the afterword (at least in the Coronet edition). The setting for Silversword is like an additional character in the story, lush and beautiful, full of history and beliefs, and perhaps magic. When reading this one, I could not help but think of Tony Hillerman and M.M. Kaye. Whitney weaves such a rich and lovely tapestry around Hawaii, and especially Maui, that we see its beauty in our mind’s eye while reading, feel it’s amazing history, and are touched by its spiritual side. On a slightly smaller scale, Whitney does for Maui, and Hawaii, what Kaye did for India, and Hillerman for the Southwest. Though it is certainly not on the same scope as Michener’s Hawaii — this is romantic mystery fiction, after all — there is something lush and tangible that the reader takes away from the setting as Whitney describes it, and as the protagonist experiences it.

Silversword begins in San Francisco, however, a city which has had long ties across the Pacific to Hawaii. Caroline Kirby is living in Pacific Heights with her father’s mother, a wealthy and controlling woman who worships a dead son. Elizabeth had given Caroline a home when both her parents were killed in Hawaii during a tragic accident at a crater. But a home is all it was, devoid of real love and affection. Caroline, also referred to as Linny and Cao, has recently divorced and is trying to find her own way in life. She thinks going back to Maui may be the answer, but is in for a shocking discovery, and deception. Though the revelation happens early in the narrative, and is basically the impetus for the entire book, I will attempt to be a bit vague about it. Suffice it to say, it leads to greater questions, as to why Caroline couldn’t remain in Hawaii, rather than have her childhood ruined. But darker questions loom, including what really happened that day at the crater.

The narrative is gentle and involving, and the romance which blooms slowly, like the silversword — it has taken a lifetime for Caroline and David — is realistic. Whitney knew how to weave a tapestry of mystery and romance as well as anyone in this genre, and her gift for storytelling is very much on display here — though I must note, that as previously mentioned, this is an atypical book by the author. We like Caroline, but Maui and the mystery of what happened all those years ago is what drives this novel of romantic intrigue and mystery forward, even if it is at a gentle pace. Along the way, Caroline begins to find sure footing in the most unlikely places, and by the most intangible means:


“Hawaiians say it’s our own spirit we see reflected in the clouds. You’re very lucky — it doesn’t always happen. But I thought you might be — I thought you might be given a sign.” — David

Caroline’s inner thoughts about David’s remark: “Whatever he said I could believe. I could believe that somehow, in some inspired way, that was the reflection of my own soul—spirit—shining out there in that circle of light. No one could behold such a vision without being touched and changed. While I had come to Maui for some small human purposes of my own, now something more was given to me. Something far larger — a destiny? At this moment the word didn’t seem too large for me to accept it. I was here because — something — was meant to be. I didn’t need to understand. In a little while I would go back to my own human perspective, but I wouldn’t forget what had touched me here.”


Whitney gave this enough depth to make it interesting, and enough romance and mystery to keep the reader involved despite the gentle but steady movement. She writes evocatively of Maui’s beauty and its history. And she weaves in its mystic side, which Caroline experiences herself in a vision. It is a tapa beater, and Caroline’s loving persistence to help someone open doors long-shut, however, that will finally bring this terrific read in the genre to a very satisfying close.

There is a wonderfully illustrated and detailed map of Maui on page twenty-six in the Coronet paperback edition, as well as an afterward by Phyllis A. Whitney which is well worth reading. This edition has a beautiful cover depicting Maui, and I urge anyone seeking it out in paperback, to find this one. Though written and published in the 1980s, this one feels sort of timeless, and is a wonderful example of this genre done correctly. If you enjoy this genre of romantic suspense and mystery, Silversword is highly recommended. show less