Here’s a case of mistaken identity. Something about this book’s title; something about this book’s cover; something about this book’s summary; something about this book’s reviews drew me in. I remember ordering it and thinking, “That’s a book I want to read!” I remember holding it for the first time and something clicking in my mind, “I wanted this book.” And I put my name on it. And it became a part of my summer reading list. The books I wanted to read and not the books I needed to read.
I read the first few chapters and wondered, “Huh, this is not the book I thought it was or would be.” There was a part of me that started to think, I don’t have to read this book, but by then, I couldn’t help myself. I suppose, I thought it would be more fantastical or magical and get a sticker. While it won’t get a fantasy sticker, it was definitely fantastical and magical on a different scale. (But it should probably get a historical fiction sticker instead.)
Don’t get me wrong. Growing up, I was the princess of historical fiction. As a matter of fact, I read oodles of books about the Oregon Trail and at one time could probably have been a scout for the Trail based upon my book learning. (And I’ve never been closer than New Mexico, HA.) But I’ve grown up and prefer… well… more. Unique. Unusual. DIFFERENT.
This is the story of Amos Kincaid. His father, Jake Kincaid, is a dowser. His grandfather was a dowser. His great grandfather was a dowser. Their family was a line of dowsers going all the way back to when God made creation. Water wasn’t just in their blood – water was their blood. Dowsing was a blessing – an occupation that could put food on the table. Dowsing was a curse – you had to follow the need. OR, in Jake Kincaid’s case, do it when you’d rather be doing something else.
Amos got dowsing from his father. Amos got drawing from his mother. Delilah was the wild, red-headed, earthy mother that preferred solitude with a charcoal pencil and a pad of paper. Amos never knew his mother – she died during childbirth – but she never left his side as a child.
Amos’ life was full of change and he had no control over it. Because his mother died and his father was a trapper, he was passed from home to home. Just as soon as he would get comfortable with his lot in life, tragedy would strike or his father would show up and it was time to move. This novel is a story about Amos’ Coming of Age. That moment when he stops following and begins to lead.
The language is gorgeous. The characters are tangible. The story is comfy and yet uniquely told. I would say that the author told the story that she wanted to tell and not the story that a publisher wanted to sell. She earned the right. I foresee multiple adults trekking upstairs to check this title out for their book discussion group. I’d recommend this book to kids with old souls.
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