I read this book (and its two sequels) over and over and over again as a kid. This is truly a classic of Canadian children's fiction. Anyway, I am in the process of moving and when I went to bed last night all my books were packed up, so I had nothing to read. I found this tucked behind a cabinet in my old room, and so I took it to bed with me to keep me entertained in my last night at my mom's house. It kind of seemed like a fitting choice, seeing as how it was such a big part of my childhood.
This story of two young children leaving England for Toronto as war guests during the early part of World War II is always great. I've always found myself deeply sympathetic with Norah and her depression at being sent away. That said, the book never justifies her neglectful treatment of her confused little brother, and by the end when everything is repaired in their relationship, you forgive her.
Reading it as an adult was a bit strange. I thought I would take a different perspective and be a bit more sympathetic (or at least understanding) of the adult characters, but that didn't happen. Instead I felt about eleven years old again, and I completely lost myself in the story. This includes sitting among cardboard boxes this morning crying like a loser at the end.
This book has always been a favourite, and I am glad I was forced to pick it up again. I give it 5 out of 5 Messerschmitts, and I think I may have to see if I can find the other two books in the series somewhere.
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