Skylark

March 28, 1994
The magnificent sequel to MacLachlan's Newbery-winning Sarah, Plain and Tall opens on a joyous note: ``Papa married Sarah on a summer day. There were no clouds in the sky, and Papa picked Sarah up in his arms and whirled her around and around, her white dress and veil surrounding him like the summer wind. Caleb was so excited and happy that he burst into tears. Everybody was happy.'' But the cloudless sky is not a good omen. A devastating drought descends on the prairie; Anna, the narrator, and her brother, Caleb, dream of rain, and the boy puts a glass out on the fence post to catch the drops when they fall. But none do. As wells dry up and neighbors move away, Sarah is increasingly on edge, not so firmly rooted as her husband, Jacob. She cries out that Jacob ``once said his name was written in this land, but mine isn't. It isn't!'' After the barn burns one night--struck by lightning, ironically unaccompanied by rain--Sarah takes the children to stay with her aunts in Maine. Though enchanted by the verdancy and the sea, Anna and Caleb miss the prairie terribly. And they all long to see Jacob again. He finally comes to Maine, with word that rain has fallen back home. Sarah has news, too: she expects a baby in the spring. When the family returns to the farm, Sarah takes a stick and writes her name in the dirt. Recalling the letters Jacob wrote to her before she first arrived on the prairie, Sarah tells Anna, ``I loved what was between the lines most.'' Indeed, there is a great deal found between the lines of MacLachlan's own writing, which so neatly presents a very real setting and enormously powerful characters, yet leaves spaces for readers to fill in as they like. This stirring novel's flawlessly crafted dialogue and imagery linger long after the final, hopeful message is delivered--by Caleb, who looks ahead to the spring, when flowers will return, the river will run again, and Sarah will have ``our baby.'' There are worlds in MacLachlan's words. Ages 8-10. 50,000 first printing.

March 1, 1994
Gr 3-5-The Wittings-Sarah and Jacob, Caleb and Anna-return in the sequel to Sarah, Plain and Tall (HarperCollins, 1985). Life on the prairie has become exceedingly difficult; many of the family's friends and neighbors are leaving because of a drought. Although Jacob insists they will not leave-because "Our names are written in this land"-the children are quick to worry, knowing that Sarah, who hails from Maine, may not feel the same commitment to the farm. After a fire destroys their barn, Sarah and the children journey east to visit her family for the summer. The contrast in climate and scenery on the coast at first distracts the children, but even the long-sought-after rain cannot comfort them as they wonder whether they will all be together again. When Jacob arrives suddenly one day, he and Sarah announce that they will have a baby in the spring, and the family returns to their farm. There Sarah writes her name in the prairie dirt. MacLachlan's prose is as lyrical and graceful as ever. Packed with meaning and portent, each sentence shows the careful touch of a master of understatement. Brief passages from Anna's journal enhance the emotional intensity of the book, and build on the childlike perspective presented in the first-person narrative. MacLachlan's sure hand in Skylark will undoubtedly win her many new readers.-Ellen Fader, Oregon State Library, Salem

January 1, 1994
Gr. 4-6. This successful sequel to "Sarah Plain and Tall" (1985), which was recently televised, has enough dramatic tension and character development to satisfy devoted fans of the first book. Mail-order bride Sarah goes back east with children Anna and Caleb, leaving husband Jacob, whose name is "written in the land," to deal with their drought-ridden farm. Sarah's home in Maine makes a favorable impression on the children, but they miss their father and fear they will never return to the prairie. Finally, Jacob comes to fetch them home: "Papa looked at Sarah. It rained, ' he said. I never thought you'd come, ' whispered Sarah. It rained, ' said Papa again, his voice so soft it could have been the wind I heard." MacLachlan packs a lot into this spare tale and never diverges from the child's point of view, even when showing adult behavior. The happy result is emotional impact without cloying sentimentality. ((Reviewed Jan. 1, 1994))(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 1994, American Library Association.)