Fiddleback by Elizabeth Honey

From the Publisher

A fast, funny, action-packed camping adventure from one of Australia’s most popular authors.

The friends and neighbors of Stella Street have found the perfect camping spot–miles of forest all around, a grassy clearing, and a swift-moving stream with a lovely swimming hole. Six parents, five kids, one neighbor, and a blissed-out dachshund explore, build camp fires, and skinny-dip. It’s the kind of magical place where nothing bad could happen. Well, except for the shady loggers who try to cut down some old-growth trees. And the juvenile delinquent who follows them from the city. And a horrendous storm that washes out the road. And the very pregnant mom’s chilling announcement: “I think it’s time. . . .”

Children's Literature

In this frenetic and memorable tale, eleven-year-old Henni goes car camping in the Australian bush with her family and neighbors. The group consists of five kids, seven adults (one pregnant), a dachshund and "hundreds of last-minute can't-possibly-survive-without-this things." A platypus, kookaburras and a Dulugar will introduce American readers to some unusual campsite experiences, along with unexpected encounters with storms, snakes, chain-saw carrying tree poachers and a troubled teen. The natural banter of camping, exploring and skinny-dipping are so unselfconsciously real that readers will feel as though they're right there, poking campfire embers with the whole Stella Street bunch. Be prepared for openness, especially in a childbirth scene, which is handled honestly without being too graphic. Henni's story is punctuated with her own hilarious and surprisingly helpful drawings, as well as her eye and ear-catching sound effects. The warmth and merriment of multiple relationships across age boundaries combine skillfully with an ecology-conscious, danger-filled plot. The result is an adventure that is fast-paced and satisfying. 2001 (orig. 1998), Alfred A. Knopf, $16.99 and $14.95. Ages 9 to 12. Reviewer: Betty Hicks

School Library Journal

Gr 4-6-The carefree Australian gang first introduced in Stella Street and Everything That Happened (Annick, 1998; o.p.) is back. Once again, tall, almost-a-teenager Henni tells the story. Four neighborhood families, including Donna, Frank's pregnant mother, go camping for the winter holidays in a secluded spot with a swimming hole. While there, the youngsters have wonderful times playing games, skinny-dipping, and exploring. They also discover a hidden rain forest, complete with a fiddleback (a tree with a prized grain pattern); hide a troubled teenager; survive a huge storm; and take on an evil lumberman who wants to chop down the fiddleback. All of the threads are tied together handsomely in the conclusion, but the main event is Donna's baby arriving in the tent. The kids save the day by tossing Donna's cell phone to the hidden teenager, who calls the hospital for advice on getting the placenta out afterward. This sequel may appeal to those who enjoyed the earlier book, but don't expect another Don't Pat the Wombat (Knopf, 2000). The plot is thin and the characters are difficult to sort out.-Debbie Whitbeck, West Ottawa Public Schools, Holland, MI Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information.

Kirkus Reviews

Australian Honey takes the cast of 45 & 47 Stella Street and Everything That Happened (1998) into the bush for a blissful, if far from uneventful, camping trip in this madcap sequel. All together five children, seven adults, and one long, low dog named Briquette, the Stella Street neighbors think they've found heaven in an isolated spot along the Warrangalla River. And they have, even though idyllic days of exploring, gathering small treasures, skinny dipping, and just laying about are interrupted by the arrival of a neglected, at-risk teenager, a pair of big snakes, an unscrupulous sawmill boss out to poach an ancient blackwood tree, and, after a violent storm that renders the only road out impassable, a newborn baby. Adding occasional sketches or brief handwritten letters to God that underscore the tale's high spots, seventh-grader Henni relates these and other events with breezy matter-of-factness-"Be prepared for a poetic bit . . . it can't be told in any other way if I'm to do the telling. And it's surprising, so when it happens suddenly to you, that's how it was for us. It's also rather gory"-that irresistibly invites readers along for the ride. Look for plenty of Recreation, but not much Rest, in this outing. (Fiction. 10-12)

Product Details

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Read an Excerpt

Churr!

I can't believe I am actually sitting down to write a book!

I must be mad!

My first book was a total sellout--all eleven copies gone! (Actually, I gave them away.) But what a story I have to tell! Bits of it may be shocking to some people. I bet they'll say, That sort of thing is better left unsaid. But we all live our lives in different ways, and this is the way we live ours. Good writing is true, and this will be as true as I can make it--the way I see it. Anyway, nobody is making you read this story.

I'll call it fiddleback. Strange word, bumpy like a knuckle. We didn't know what it meant, but we sure found out.

I'll write it for Donna and Little Jim and the fiddleback.

2

My Sister, Danielle

Before I tell you what happened I will introduce myself. I'm Henni. I'm tall, I want to be a writer, and I'm going to junior high school in two days' time. At my old school, there were twenty-five kids in sixth grade. At junior high school, there will be about a hundred and eighty in seventh grade! Then I was a big (tall) fish in a small pond. Now I'll be a small (tall) fish in a big pond. (Zev calls me the Human Bookmark.)

This year I'm the proud flasher of a fabulous travel pass. With it I can go anywhere in zone 1 on trams, buses, or trains! It's very expensive and has my photo on it, and I bet I lose it. My little laminated magic carpet. I told Frank it was my driver's license, and he believed me!

We're getting organized for school, buying all the new things I need. I think this time of order is extra cool because it's such a contrast to our wild vacation, which wasn't meant to be so primitive, it just happened that way. Circumstances beyond our control.

Thecrowning glory of my new uniform--my blazer! With shoulders! It looks so grown-up.

My blazer has a lining. My first lining. My arms slip down the cool sleeves. And in the lining over my heart is a secret inside pocket. If I ever get a letter from my beloved (if I ever get a beloved), that's where I'll put it, close to my heart.

"Don't you love it? It's silk," I told Mum.

"It is not silk," said Danielle. "It's something made out of petroleum."

Danielle is watching all this fuss about me. Of course, she has new things for school, too, but they're not totally new and different like mine.

When Dad came home from work, I got all dressed up in my new uniform, did my hair, and made the big entrance.

"Well, look at you," said Dad, putting his arm around Mum. "Clothes maketh the woman."

"And breasts!" said Danielle.

For nine long embarrassing years, Danielle has been my sister. Her motto is "Go forth and embarrass Henni," but now she is reaching more embarrassing heights than EVER!!!!!

"Danielle, don't be so rude!" said Mum in a resigned voice. "Go and slip on your new Windcheater to show Dad."

"You're just trying to make me feel better because Henni's getting everything. I know, 'when I get my blazer, it'll be special,' but it won't be so special because Henni wore it first and everything happens to Henni first. So what! Who cares! I don't!" And she stomped out.

A bit later, I went out into the backyard and Danielle was lying in the hammock breaking a stick into little bits and flicking them at a tea towel on the clothesline.

"Don't be such a pain," I said. "You're the lucky one!"

"Oh yeah?"

"YES!" I said, then I let her have it. I'd been storing up the ammunition.

"I had to sit at the table till I'd eaten everything and wait until everybody else had finished before I could leave the table. I had to be in bed at exactly eight-thirty. I didn't get pocket money until I was seven. You get more pocket money than I ever got."

"So?" She flicked a stick.

"Hoh! You're having an easy time. Mum and Dad don't fuss about you the way they fussed about me. Go and look at those bringing-up-children books on top of the fridge. All that underlining was done for me."

"I wouldn't mind being underlined," said Danielle.

"You're kidding! You're spoiled. You get away with murder."

"I never murdered anyone."

"No, but I might murder you, you excruciating little prune."

Silence.

"Yeah, I know," she said. "Sorry, Hen."

A bit more silence. I was just feeling human toward her and about to give her a hug or something when she chipped in, "Besides, you're older, you'll die first!"

I tipped her out of the hammock.