Eloise Jarvis McGraw (1915–2000)

Yankee in Oz and Enchanted Island created a precedent—like them, Forbidden Fountain is a return to Oz published by the International Wizard of Oz Club written by a "Royal Historian," in this case, the mother-and-daughter team of Eloise and Lauren McGraw, authors of the final "Famous Forty" novel, Merry Go Round in Oz. And like them, it has somewhat mediocre illustrations provided by Dick Martin.

I was looking forward to this a lot, because I knew it had a cracker of a premise. Ozma show more accidentally drinks the Water of Oblivion from the Forbidden Fountain, forgetting who she is; as "Poppy," disguised as a boy, she ends up wandering the countryside of Oz. While the denizens of the Royal Palace search for her, it's Kabumpo, the Elegant Elephant of Oz, who stumbles upon her—only in classic Kabumpo fashion, he gets the situation entirely wrong. Plus, it was by the writers of my favorite post-Baum novel in the Famous Forty.

Perhaps because my expectations were so high, I found it mildly disappointing... though I should say it's probably also my favorite of the "quasi-canonical" Oz novels I've read so far, except for maybe Wicked Witch. The first couple chapters are great, with a really compelling set-up. In fact, they were so intense that after the first chapter, my six-year-old was so freaked out by Ozma's loss of memory, that they declared they didn't want to read any more of the book! It took me a bit to persuade them that surely everything would be all right in the end (as it always is, in an Oz book) and thus that we ought to press on and keep going.

I also really liked the role of Kabumpo. If there's a complaint to be lodged with the post-Thompson Oz novels, it's that the sense of continuity abates somewhat; Neill picks up some of Thompson's characters and concepts (in his own distinctive way, at least) but then in the later Famous Forty books, Jack Snow and Rachel Cosgrove ignore everything post-Baum, as did the McGraws their first time out. But here, Thompson's Kabumpo is a main player—and I think they do very well by him. Like in Kabumpo in Oz and Lost King, Kabumpo here has good intentions... but his self-assurance and vanity causes him to get a key detail very wrong. It's a good showing for a character who hasn't had a key role for some time.

The McGraws give us some striking images, particularly the creepy maze in the Emerald City that was used to exile people in the time of King Pastoria, and some fun new characters, particularly Toby the highwayman who doesn't have the nerve to actually rob someone. There's also a fun area called the "Bordermoor," which is between the Gillikin and Winkie countries,* and thus things there are both purple and yellow. Other worldbuilding note: The book tells us there are Roma people in Oz (not that it uses that term), contradicting Ojo in Oz, which ended with Ozma sending them all back to Europe.

Where the book falls down for me is that if Merry Go Round was like a strong Thompson, this is like a weak one, in that the protagonists move between largely uninteresting locations and don't really do anything interesting to get out of them. Merry Go Round had a lot of team problem-solving, one of my favorite things in an Oz book, but this is one of those Oz books where the characters more stumble in and out of places without much deliberate action on their own part. The result is kind of unmemorable, like reading Purple Prince. I would particularly liked to have seen Ozma shown some steel or ingenuity as "Poppy," but she is pretty timid and directionless. C'mon, Tip was awesome!

That said, unlike many Thompsons, it does have a strong ending. When Ozma makes it back to the Emerald City, the first person she sees is Jack Pumpkinhead, who calls her "Tip." My kid was like, "It's because she's a boy!" No no, I pooh-poohed, Jack is just seeing some kind of essence of Ozma. But they were right and I was wrong! In boy's clothes, Ozma looks like Tip, and there's a touching scene where Jack and Mombi are all Ozma can remember. My kid was bouncing off the wall in excitement as everything came together in the last two chapters.

When I asked if they liked it, they gave me the thumbs-up sign five times. "Each thumbs up means one star," they explained. So I guess they were into it! When I asked it that was despite how scary the beginning had been, they insisted the beginning hadn't been scary at all.

* For some reason this is a trope of many of my recent Oz books; Hidden Valley, Yankee, Enchanted Island, and Forbidden Fountain all go back and forth between these two countries. Where are my Munchkins at? show less

I first read this book when I was a teen. For the longest time, all I could remember about it was that the main character got whipped within an inch of her life near the end and that her shoulders were still healing when the romantic storyline was wrapped up. I also remembered not quite liking Sheftu, but I couldn't remember why. A comment on Smart Bitches, Trashy Books reminded me of the book's title and author. My first thought was, "Must request this via ILL!" So I did.

Even though it's show more dangerous, I like taking the occasional trip down reading memory lane - sometimes I still enjoy the books I loved when I was younger, and sometimes I can barely finish them. For the most part, I enjoyed this one. Although I think I disliked Sheftu a bit more than I would have when I was younger, all the intrigue was a lot of fun, despite some bits that strained my suspension of disbelief, and I still thought Mara was an awesome heroine.

While I was reading the book, I found myself thinking that the dialogue read like something out of an old high fantasy novel - only instead of "By the Great Grimor," or whatever, you get "By Set," "By Amon," and "By the Blessed Son." I checked the copyright date and, sure enough, the book was originally published in 1953. Thank goodness I didn't know that when I was younger, or I would have avoided this book simply because it's older than my parents.

Prior to rereading this, I wouldn't have been able to tell you why I enjoyed it when I was younger - I couldn't remember enough about it. I can now say with relative certainty that my younger self enjoyed this book 1) because Mara is awesome, 2) because all the intrigue is exciting, and 3) because there is romance. Now that I'm older, #1 and #2 still stand strong, but I'm a bit more iffy about #3.

Mara is a slave, only 17 years old, but she never cowers fearfully from anybody - she's more likely to snarl her defiance, or glare daggers. She knows that no one in the world is going to come to save her, so she has to save herself. She doesn't go looking to become a double agent but ends up becoming one because she has to, and also because it keeps her options open. Sheftu can talk all he wants about his work being for the good of Egypt - Mara, as she is throughout most of the book, is only looking out for herself. However, she's so clever and charming that you can't help but like her.

Mara might have been fun to read about all on her own, but all the intrigue gave her a chance to shine. Every time things got more dangerous and complicated for her, she used her wits and charm to talk her way out of things. And yet, she wasn't supremely confident - she knew that, if she messed up, she could die. As just a slave, she lied and stole things (there's a fun scene in which she steals honey cakes, eating them right in front of the guy she's stealing them from without him ever realizing what's going on), but it wasn't until she became a spy that she started dealing with people who were more of a match for her.

One of those people is Sheftu. On the one hand, he's lived with dangerous court politics all his life, so he lives and breathes lies and treachery. On the other hand, his entire rebel operation seems to be built on a house of cards. Despite knowing that spies are all around, he takes Mara at face value and just assumes that she's a runaway slave - that seemed rather stupid to me. Then there's at least one person in his group that couldn't look more untrustworthy if he tried, and yet Sheftu trusts him enough that it's almost his downfall. It's amazing the rebel group made it as far as it did before things started to unravel.

Although I enjoyed the intrigue and adventure in and of itself, I couldn't really buy what Sheftu was trying to accomplish. Yes, Hatshepsut seemed like a scary woman, liable to bankrupt Egypt - but, quite frankly, Thutmose didn't seem any more appealing. He was an arrogant, frightening man whose one moment of gentleness was after Mara was almost whipped to death protecting Sheftu and the other rebels. I suppose the main reason I never warmed to Thutmose was because of his treatment of Inanni, the Canaanite princess he was supposed to marry. As far as Thutmose was concerned, Inanni was nothing more than a fat, stupid cow, completely beneath him. Granted, Mara's initial thoughts about Inanni weren't very nice either, but she did eventually see her as a sweet person who could be a good friend - it irked me to see Thutmose treating Inanni like dirt, and his treatment of her made it that much more difficult to see why Sheftu would support Thutmose so fanatically. I ended up just telling myself that all Sheftu really wanted was to get Hatshepsut off the throne, and Thutmose was the only possible replacement.

Earlier, I wrote that one of the reasons my younger self liked this book was because of the romance. Now, you would never have gotten me to admit this - I couldn't even admit to myself that one of the things I looked for in books was a romantic element. Even so, Sheftu, with his confidence, intelligence, and charisma, would have had me cheering. That said, now that I'm older Sheftu smacks too much of "old school romance hero" and Mara's reaction to him is a bit annoying.

Sheftu is the sort who'll announce things like "I vow, I mean to kiss you" (I don't think this line is actually in the book, but it reads like something that could have been), which would piss Mara off, and then she'd get pissed some more if he didn't actually follow through. I already mentioned that one of the main reasons why I liked this book was that Mara is awesome. Unfortunately, around Sheftu she becomes slightly less awesome. For a good chunk of the book, their relationship seems really unequal. As a slave, Mara doesn't really have a chance with Sheftu, a member of the nobility - Sheftu could easily seduce her and then leave her to fend for herself. As strong as Mara seems in just about every other respect, she seems almost powerless against Sheftu, and, for the longest time, there's not much evidence that this runs both ways.

McGraw eventually shows that Sheftu thinks about Mara as much as Mara thinks about him, and she even takes his incredible confidence down a notch by having him worry about and be jealous of Mara's flirtations with others, such as a young guardsman she seduces so as to be able to easily enter and leave the palace. Then McGraw shakes him up some more by having him almost die in an awesome grave robbery scene - I love that scene, you can practically feel the terror and tension as the group worries about their air supply, how long their torch will last, and whether or not their crime will earn them the wrath of the dead.

Still, as a noble, Sheftu always has more power in this relationship than Mara. Mara even voices this when Sheftu finally, finally tells her his feelings, and she reminds him that there could never be anything lasting between them because of the difference in their statuses. It's only when Sheftu does his version of the "romance novel grovel," when he knowingly puts himself in a situation that could get himself killed in order to try to save Mara and make up for having a part in her ending up in that situation in the first place, that things become a little more even - Sheftu may be a noble, but he's no more likely to survive at the hands of his enemies than Mara.

And the bit that made me still dislike him, years after I read the book and long after I could remember why I disliked him? Moments after confessing his feelings to Mara, Sheftu learns of her duplicity. Rather than considering Mara's position, that she is a slave with no options, no guarantee of protection from anyone, Sheftu immediately succumbs to rage and plans to kill her. The "romance novel grovel" was nice and all, but it still wasn't quite enough to make me forgive him, even though Mara managed to (and, in fact, never really blamed him for anything in the first place).

Overall, this was an enjoyable read, in large part due to the fact that the intrigue, the strongest part of the book, was the primary focus. Had the romance been more prominent, I'm not sure I could have liked the book as much, due to my dislike for the power imbalance in Sheftu and Mara's relationship. I've read that the book's presentation of Egyptian history is pretty inaccurate, but I don't know enough about Egyptian history to say whether this is true or not. From my perspective, the book's setting was a plus, because it was unusual (I think this is the only book I've ever read set in ancient Egypt) and seemed very vivid.

(Original review, with read-alikes and watch-alikes, posted on A Library Girl's Familiar Diversions.) show less

After The Forbidden Fountain of Oz, Eloise McGraw returned to Oz one last time, making The Rundelstone of Oz the last book written by a "Famous Forty" author. It was originally published in a periodical called Oz-story with pictures by Eric Shanower, and then republished as a standalone volume by Hungry Tiger Press with more illustrations.

Rundelstone is an unusual Oz novel; aside from the opening chapter (set in the Emerald City), the entire book takes place in the confines of a single show more village, and most of it even takes place on the grounds of a single castle! Despite this, it still manages to feel pretty Ozzy. The protagonist is a living puppet, part of a performing troupe of living puppets, but Poco doesn't, say, desire to be a real boy or anything; he just is a living puppet, the kind of thing you might expect to find in Oz. Poco enjoys his life, but suffers because of the cruel maestroissimo of the troupe, its one human member, who bullies all the puppets, but especially Poco.

Poco and his troupe come to the town of Witheraway, where Poco is enchanted—supposedly by accident—by the town's "witherd" (he's not a wizard because there's only one legal wizard in Oz), and the troupe leaves without him while he's in the form of a cuckoo clock. The witherd make him into his lead servant, but as time goes on, Poco become suspicious that there's something more afoot.

With its emphasis on its protagonist's interiority, personal fears, and character growth, this reminded me a lot of McGraw's first Oz book, Merry Go Round, and though I didn't enjoy it as much, as I did enjoy it quite a lot. McGraw is more attentive to this kind of thing than any other Oz writer, and though I can see how some readers may want more cool locations and weird creatures, I enjoyed the change of pace. It feels Ozzy enough while feeling different from all the other books too. (I've seen it suggested that Rundelstone is most like Ozma of Oz, but that really has just one confined section.) Poco is on a quest of sorts, but not a physical journey, a quest to find out what happened to his troupe and a quest to discover his own confidence. The book moves a little slowly, perhaps—an adult reader will certainly be ahead of Poco—but I found it was perfectly paced for a six-year-old listener, who will be a bit less savvy to when characters are lying and what the truth might be.

You can't go wrong with Eric Shanower illustrations; he of course brings a lot of key moments to life. My kid pronounced they enjoyed the "whole thing." They do tend to get confused when there's a lot of "off-screen" backstory, which there is a bit here, with the origin of the Spellstones in Fyordi-Zik. We're told this in a lump of exposition, and I had to remind them of it a few times later on. I only found myself dissatisfied by the very ending. Though Ozma doesn't turn up to sort everything out too early (as she does in some Oz books), meaning Poco is ultimately responsible for solving most of the situation, I did find myself wishing she'd turned up a tiny bit later so he could do a tiny bit more on his own and prove himself.

But much like with Merry Go Round, I found myself wishing there was a sequel. I want to know what other scrapes Poco and the Troupadours get into with their itinerant lifestyle—and how they get back out again! show less

Another landmark Oz book for me and my kid—the last of the Famous Forty! The only memory I have retained of it from my own childhood is the first chapter, where Oregon orphan Robin Brown grabs the brass ring on a merry-go-round and is transported to Oz; literally none of the rest of the book was even remotely familiar as I reread it. This is a shame because as an adult reader, I loved it. This was definitely my favorite post-Baum Oz novel, and to be honest, there's more than a few Baum show more novels I would say it exceeds too.

The plot owes more to Ruth Plumly Thompson's Oz than Baum's in some ways, reminding of Grampa in Oz in particular, but also Kabumpo in Oz or Purple Prince: the prince of an eccentric, vaguely fairly tale Oz kingdom must go on a quest to save his people. (Though unlike in those books, there's no romance element to the quest.) This isn't really the kind of thing Baum went in for, by and large. In this case, the jousting- and genealogy-obsessed Munchkin enclave of Halidom has lost three Golden Circlets that grant its inhabitants strength, intelligence, and skill in handicrafts. Prince Gules goes on a quest to reacquire them, though as he lacks both intelligence and strength, the quest is really being managed by the page Fess, who comes from the neighboring kingdom of Troth; they are accompanied by Fess's pet Flittermouse (half-mouse, half-bat), Gules's steed Fred (who ostentatiously styles himself Federigo, but is secretly descended from a plow-horse), and a fairy Unicorn (supposedly the only unicorn in Oz, but a footnote reminds us there are other unicorns in Oz that the people of Halidom don't know about; see Magic of Oz and Ojo).

Merry Go Round also merges in notes of Gnome King, Yellow Knight, or especially Speedy in its use of a boy American protagonist who gets to Oz in circumstances that are admittedly somewhat dubious and underexplained. Robin Brown is an orphan in foster care who grabs a magic brass ring on a merry-go-round, transporting him to Oz, but also (for reasons never explained) the merry-go-round horse he was riding, which comes to life. He dubs her "Merry Go Round," and he and Merry are of course swept up into a number of adventures as they try to get to the Emerald City, where hopefully Princess Ozma will be able to transport them home and make Merry into a Real Horse.

At first, we go back and forth between the two parties; eventually the book adds in Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion, who are (initially) setting out to see the Easter Bunny to order Easter eggs for an upcoming Easter party in the Emerald City. First Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion encounter the party from Halidom; then all three groups converge in the city of Roundabout, whose inhabitants think Robin is their prophesied king.

I don't think it's a coincidence that coauthor Eloise Jarvis McGraw is basically the only post-Baum "Royal Historian" to have had a career as a children's author outside of the Oz books; indeed, she was a Newbery Honor recipient three different times! More than any other Oz book, this one actually cares about the characters and development of its protagonists. Robin, who always feels passed over, must learn to speak up if he's to help Merry. Gules must learn how to act as a leader. Fess must manage a group of people without letting them know they're being managed. Flitter must learn to be brave. Fred must learn to not be so vain. Merry must learn what a "Real Horse" actually is. All of the McGraws' original characters have little arcs, and while Dorothy and the Cowardly Lion don't really change, she does well by them, too. While the McGraws are clearly imitating Thompson, this is a depth of characterization and theme that Thompson herself never achieved (except, perhaps, in Kabumpo). She's also a more subtle writer than some of her predecessors, with more stuff communicated through allusion at times; I would say the reading level is pitched slightly higher than most Famous Forty books.

It's a large set of characters, and I do think my kid found this a bit hard to keep track of at first; plus, there's a lot of exposition in the first Halidom chapter, and conversely, the lack of direct explanation at some points meant I had to spell things out. But unlike some other Oz books with large casts (e.g., Hidden Valley), the McGraws are very careful to give everyone something meaningful to do, both in terms of little bits of business throughout, also in that every character meaningfully contributes to the problem-solving multiple times. There's, for example, some good gags about the vegetarian food the Cowardly Lion is forced to eat in the Easter Bunny's kingdom, and the escape from the Land of Good Children is an excellent sequence, pure Oz problem solving combined with pure Oz whimsy.

I came to enjoy every single one of these characters, and it seems a shame that though McGraw made two returns to Oz, I don't think she ever followed up on any of these characters. I want to see Robin and Merry come into their own, or what Fess is like as he grows older! (I have a theory about him...) There were a lot of fun, distinct voices to do here. I of course particularly loved doing the over-the-top princely declamations of Prince Gules. The end of the book is good, too; things are wrapped up for everyone quite nicely.

I think it's a long book. (I looked around for a list of Oz book word counts but couldn't find one; some enterprising fan must have done this, though.) It runs the usual twenty-ish chapters, and several Oz books are longer in terms of page count, but I felt like the typeface was smaller and chapters often took almost thirty minutes to read aloud instead of the usual fifteen/twenty. Despite this, we read it less than three weeks (we usually average an Oz book a month) because my kid kept asking for extra chapters, so they must have been into it. They were very into the untangling of the books' two prophecies,* and the finding of the three circlets, and they very much liked the journey map contained in the front of book. I think it was slightly over their head in some spots, in a way no Oz book we've read has been for a while, but in a good way.(The only thing to not like in this regard is more an issue for the child reader than the adult one; by the time the key character of Sir Greves returned in the last couple chapters, I don't think my kid remembered him from the first couple chapters at all!)

Dick Martin illustrates. I didn't care for his take on Dorothy, and he's no John R. Neill, but his style is well-suited to the tone of the book. Like many of the late Famous Forty books, my big issue with the pictures is that there ought to be more of them! show less