Phyllis A. Whitney (1903–2008)

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

It was a proud day when I received my first adult library card and Columbella was one of the first two books I checked out with it. I haven't read my old paperback copy in decades, but as I read a library's large print copy, memories came back: the golden columbella necklace, the beautiful wallpaper in Cathy's room at Caprice, the red dress, and the special Calypso song at a party.... I remembered who the killer was, but it didn't matter.

Did this book cast the same spell over me that it did show more when I was 13? No. I'm no longer ready to believe in a true love that happens as quickly as it does here, but the descriptions are just as beautiful and the characters as interesting. Ms. Whitney had a way of showing how a toxic parent's damage to his or her child could affect that person still. Here we have one woman damaged by her mother and another damaged by her father. While we don't know that either parent meant to damage his/her daughter, there is a teen being deliberately damaged by her mother. Can our heroine save that girl and the father who made the mistake of imagining his dead comrade-in-arm's sister was as fine a person as her brother?

The woman who calls herself 'Columbella' has already run through the money her father left her, yet is still spending money as if it grew on trees. She's even talking about restoring the family mansion. Where's that money going to come from?

Columbella is good old-fashioned romantic suspense. Enjoy. show less

"I don't suppose young people ever realize that there is still a very young person hiding inside most old people."

Phyllis Whitney certainly knew people, especially young folks. It's evident in this wonderful mystery first printed in 1957. It was written for kids, but it has something for everyone. Exceptional writing and story-telling make this a classic for lovers of mystery, even those who have become seasoned with years. I thoroughly enjoyed it.