Steinbeck's Ghost

Steinbeck's Ghost

It's been two months since Travis's family moved from their shabby old house to a development so new that it seems totally unreal. There's one place, though, where Travis can still connect with his old life: the Salinas library. Travis and his family used to go there together every Saturday, but now he bikes to it alone, re-reading his favorite books: the works of John Steinbeck. Suddenly Travis is seeing Steinbeck's characters come to life. There's the homeless man in the alley behind the library, the boy who writes by night in an attic bedroom. Travis has met them before―as a reader. But how can they be here now? And why? “The themes of valuing friendship, managing adults who have lost their priorities, and connecting people through stories will appeal to kids who have found their own magic in the library.” ― The Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books “The second half of the book is the most absorbing…. [The protagonist] is well drawn. This novel would have greatest appeal to readers familiar with Steinbeck's works.” ― School Library Journal “The story remains an intriguing introduction/companion to Steinbeck's works and imaginatively conveys the power of literature to transport people to another time and place.” ― Publishers Weekly “Buzbee's love for literature and libraries is infectious and, for those similarly inclined, deeply satisfying.” ― Booklist “Magical realism with Steinbeck's ghost and a discerning young hero.” ― Kirkus “You realize Buzbee just doesn't love books, he's besotted.” ― Publishers Weekly, starred review on The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop “A delectable feast…. I cannot remember when I have read a book with such delight.” ― Paul Yamazaki, City Lights Bookstore on The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop Lewis Buzbee is a former bookseller and sales rep (for Chronicle Books), and the author of the acclaimed adult memoir, The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop , published by Graywolf Press in June 2006. A native Californian, he lives in San Francisco with his wife and daughter. He is the author of the children's books Steinbeck's Ghost , The Haunting of Charles Dickens , and Bridge of Time . Steinbeck's Ghost By Lewis Buzbee Feiwel and Friends Copyright © 2008 Lewis Buzbee All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-0-312-60211-6 Contents THE LIBRARY, THE WRITER, THE WORLD, CHAPTER 1 Finally. He finally found the word he had been looking for. Camazotz. The moment Travis Williams stepped out of his house into the warm September afternoon, the word came to him. For months, ever since he and his parents had moved into the new house, he'd been trying to figure out what was so creepy about this place. Now he knew. He stepped off the porch into the bright sunshine and whispered the word. "Camazotz." A Wrinkle in Time was one of Travis's favorite books. He'd first borrowed it from the library a couple of years ago, when he was eleven, and had probably borrowed it three times since, read it he didn't know how many times. Whenever he thought of the book, he pictured the planet Camazotz. On Camazotz, everything was perfect. Every house was exactly like every other house, every lawn like all the rest. Every garden grew the same kind of flower, and the exact same number of those flowers. Everyone in Camazotz dressed like everyone else, and they all did the same things and at the same times. One child played ball in front of each house, and each ball bounced to the same beat. Camazotz was supposed to be a perfect planet. And in a way, Travis thought, it was perfect. Perfectly creepy. Bella Linda Terrace was supposed to be perfect, too. At least that's what Travis's parents told him. The house was big and brand-new, much bigger than the old house. Bathrooms galore, huge bedrooms, and in the living room, cathedral ceilings. His parents said "cathedral ceilings" in breathy voices as if these were the magic words that might open Aladdin's cave. Before they'd moved in, Travis also thought that Bella Linda Terrace might be perfect. It was a spanking-new subdivision surrounded by a high stone wall. The houses had just been built, many of them still waiting for their lawns. The first time Travis toured Bella Linda Terrace with his parents, the fresh smell of the sunbaked earth was everywhere. He loved that smell. The streets were wide and clean and newly coated with black tar. Travis loved that smell, too, hot asphalt. When they walked through the model of the new house, his parents showed him which room would be his. Travis would have the enormous bedroom at the front of the house, with two high, wide windows and a vast expanse of floor. His bedroom on Riker Street was about the size of the closet here, cramped but cozy. His new bedroom was palatial. "All of it?" he kept asking. "All of it mine?" Travis loved the view from these windows — his desk would go right in front of one. He could see all the way across the valley, past the freeway to Oldtown Salinas, and beyond that the dark Santa L