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The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Traitor to the Nation, Volume I: The Pox Party Paperback – January 22, 2008
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Young Octavian is being raised by a group of rational philosophers known only by numbers — but it is only after he opens a forbidden door that learns the hideous nature of their experiments, and his own chilling role them. Set in Revolutionary Boston, M. T. Anderson’s mesmerizing novel takes place at a time when Patriots battled to win liberty while African slaves were entreated to risk their lives for a freedom they would never claim. The first of two parts, this deeply provocative novel reimagines past as an eerie place that has startling resonance for readers today.
- Print length384 pages
- LanguageEnglish
- PublisherCandlewick
- Publication dateJanuary 22, 2008
- Grade level9 - 12
- Reading age14 - 17 years
- Dimensions5.73 x 1.02 x 8 inches
- ISBN-100763636797
- ISBN-13978-0763636791
- Lexile measure1090L
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Editorial Reviews
Review
—The Wall Street Journal
Anderson’s imaginative and highly intelligent exploration of the horrors of human experimentation and the ambiguous history of America’s origins will leave readers impatient for the promised sequel.
—The New York Times Book Review
A historical novel of prodigious scope, power and insight...This is the Revolutionary War seen at its intersection with slavery through a disturbingly original lens.
—Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
Fascinating and eye-opening… this powerful novel will resonate with contemporary readers.
—School Library Journal (starred review)
Octavian's narration...quickly draws readers into its almost musical flow, and the relentless action and plot turns are powerful motivators.
—Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books (starred review)
A serious look at Boston, pre-Revolution. It's layered, it's full of historic reference, and it's about slavery and equal rights.
—The Boston Globe
The story’s scope is immense, in both its technical challenges and underlying intellectual and moral questions. . . . Readers will marvel at Anderson’s ability to maintain this high-wire act of elegant, archaic language and shifting voices.
—Booklist (starred review)
With an eye trained to the hypocrisies and conflicted loyalties of the American Revolution, Anderson resoundingly concludes the finely nuanced bildungsroman begun in his National Book Award–winning novel.
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
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Book Description
From the Publisher
National Book Award Winner
Los Angeles Times Book Prize Finalist
Michael L. Printz Honor Book
Boston Globe--Horn Book Awards Winner, Fiction Category
Gustavus Myers Center for the Study of Bigotry and Human Rights Outstanding Book Awards, Honorable Mention
Julia Ward Howe Young Readers Award
New York Public Library Books for the Teen Age
Cooperative Children's Book Center Choices List
Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books - Bulletin Blue Ribbons
Booklist Editors' Choice
American Library Association Best Books for Young Adults Top Ten
The Horn Book Fanfare
Kirkus Reviews Editors' Choice
New York Times Book Review Notable Books of the Year
School Library Journal Best Books of the Year
An Amazon.com Best Books of the Year
Publishers Weekly Best Books of the Year
From the Author
About the Author
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
THE TRANSIT OF VENUS
I was raised in a gaunt house with a garden; my earliest recollections are of floating lights in the apple-trees.
I recall, in the orchard behind the house, orbs of flames rising through the black boughs and branches; they climbed, spirit-ous, and flickered out; my mother squeezed my hand with delight. We stood near the door to the ice-chamber.
By the well, servants lit bubbles of gas on fire, clad in frock-coats of asbestos.
Around the orchard and gardens stood a wall of some height, designed to repel the glance of idle curiosity and to keep us all from slipping away and running for freedom; though that, of course, I did not yet understand.
How doth all that seeks to rise burn itself to nothing.
The men who raised me were lords of matter, and in the dim chambers I watched as they traced the spinning of bodies celestial in vast, iron courses, and bid sparks to dance upon their hands; they read the bodies of fish as if each dying trout or shad was a fresh Biblical Testament, the wet and twitching volume of a new-born Pentateuch. They burned holes in the air, wrote poems of love, sucked the venom from sores, painted landscapes of gloom, and made metal sing; they dissected fire like newts.
I did not find it strange that I was raised with no one father, nor did I marvel at the singularity of any other article in my upbringing. It is ever the lot of children to accept their circumstances as universal, and their articularities as general.
So I did not ask why I was raised in a house by many men, none of whom claimed blood relation to me. I thought not to inquire why my mother stayed in this house, or why we alone were given names - mine, Octavian; hers, Cassiopeia - when all the others in the house were designated by number.
The owner of the house, Mr. Gitney, or as he styled himself, 03-01, had a large head and little hair and a dollop of a nose. He rarely dressed if he did not have to go out, but shuffled most of the time through his mansion in a banyan-robe and undress cap, shaking out his hands as if he'd washed them newly. He did not see to my instruction directly, but required that the others spend some hours a day teaching me my Latin and Greek, my mathematics, scraps of botany, and the science of music, which grew to be my first love.
The other men came and went. They did not live in the house, but came of an afternoon, or stayed there often for some weeks to perform their virtuosic experiments, and then leave. Most were philosophers, and inquired into the workings of time and memory, natural history, the properties of light, heat, and petrifaction. There were musicians among them as well, and painters and poets.
My mother, being of great beauty, was often painted. Once, she and I were clad as Venus, goddess of love, and her son Cupid, and we reclined in a bower. At other times, they made portraits of her dressed in the finest silks of the age, smiling behind a fan, or leaning on a pillar; and on another occasion, when she was sixteen, they drew her nude, for an engraving, with lines and letters that identified places upon her body.
The house was large and commodious, though often drafty. In its many rooms, the men read their odes, or played the violin, or performed their philosophical exercises. They combined chemical compounds and stirred them. They cut apart birds to trace the structure of the avian skeleton, and, masked in leather hoods, they dissected a skunk. They kept cages full of fireflies. They coaxed reptiles with mice. From the uppermost story of the house, they surveyed the city and the bay through spy-glasses, and noted the ships that arrived from far corners of the Empire, the direction of winds and the migration of clouds across the waters and, on its tawny isle, spotted with shadow, the Castle.
Amidst their many experimental chambers, there was one door that I was not allowed to pass. One of the painters sketched a little skull-and-crossbones on paper, endowed not with a skull, but with my face, my mouth open in a gasp; and this warning they hung upon that interdicted door as a reminder. They meant it doubtless as a jest, but to me, the door was terrible, as ghastly in its secrets as legendary Bluebeard's door, behind which his dead, white wives sat at table, streaked with blood from their slit throats.
We did not venture much out of the house and its grounds into the city that surrounded us. In the garden, we could hear its bustle, the horseshoes on stone cobbles and dirt, the conversation of sailors, the crying of onions and oysters in passageways. The men of that house feared that too much interaction with the world would corrupt me, and so I was, in the main, hidden away for my earliest years, as the infant Jove, snatched out of the gullet of Time, was reared by his horned nurse on Mount Ida in profoundest secrecy.
When we did go abroad, Mr. 03-01 warned me that I should not lean out at the window of the carriage, and should not show my face. He told me that, should I ever run away into the city, I would not return, but would be snatched up by evil men who would take me forever away from my mother. This was, I know now, but a half-lie.
Product details
- Publisher : Candlewick; Reprint edition (January 22, 2008)
- Language : English
- Paperback : 384 pages
- ISBN-10 : 0763636797
- ISBN-13 : 978-0763636791
- Reading age : 14 - 17 years
- Lexile measure : 1090L
- Grade level : 9 - 12
- Item Weight : 12 ounces
- Dimensions : 5.73 x 1.02 x 8 inches
- Best Sellers Rank: #617,447 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- Customer Reviews:
About the authors
M. T. Anderson is the author of Feed, winner of the Los Angeles Times Book Prize, as well as The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Traitor to the Nation Volume I: The Pox Party, winner of the National Book Award and a New York Times bestseller, and its sequel, The Kingdom on the Waves, which was also a New York Times bestseller. Both volumes were also named Michael L. Printz Honor Books. M. T. Anderson lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
M. T. Anderson is the author of The Game of Sunken Places, Burger Wuss, Thirsty, and Feed, which was a finalist for the National Book Award, a Boston Globe-Horn Book Honor Book and the winner of the Los Angeles Times Book Prize for Young Adult Fiction. He lives in Boston, Massachusetts.
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Octavian and his mother are the subjects of an experiment being conducted by the Novanglian College of Lucidity, a group of scholars. The experiment seeks to determine whether individuals of African descent are able to be taught and accomplish the same niceties as individuals of European ancestry. Ironically, in treating Cassiopeia and Octavian as experimental "animals," the College negates the possibility of proving whether the premise is valid or not. Further, Octavian, his mother, and the other servants are the only individuals, initially, who are referred to by name. Members of the college have been assigned numbers, which dehumanizes those individuals in the same way they have attempted to dehumanize others. It is only as the novel proceeds and individuals begin to show some sympathy for Octavian that a name is given the particular individual within the story's context.
This is an extraordinary novel. The provocative themes which run throughout the book cause the reader to pause and consider what might have been had slavery not existed for nearly 100 years following the American Revolution. Written partly as a personal narrative, but also incorporating fictionalized examples of newspaper clippings and postings, the era in which the novel is set is reinforced in both its tone and attitude. While the novel is purported to be geared toward readers from ninth grade and beyond, it is really a novel for any reader who seeks literature that is thought-provoking and intelligently written. I recommend "The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing" for anyone who loves to read. This is a novel that will stay with you long after you have placed it on the shelf.
Thank goodness for the Kindle, because we BOTH needed to look up several words a page. And there were some parts I paraphrased. THat said, I think my son has really benefited from this very human story about a boy being raised in the poshest of circumstances only to learn as he grows up that he is a slave and subject of a velvet gloved experiment.
He is able to accept that -- as long as he is in the hands of professors who want to prove just how able he is. When the college falls on hard times and is taken over, Octavian's world is turned upside down.
Tough but really amazing read. I think my son and I are both getting a lot out of it.
I am not exaggerating when I say my hair stood on end twice when reading it. This is a must read for any adult, youthful or not, who has any interest in our system of governance and as the back cover of the book proclaims, what it actually means to call yourself a patriot. I hope this book one day is widely taught and read. It has a remarkable, unerring, poetic telling of the barbarity of human property.
A remarkable book.
Not a YA book.
Set just before the American Revolution, this truly astonishing tale is told from Octavian's perspective, as someone who does not know the results of the war. Although the reader has the benefit of hindsight, Octavian does not, and his journey takes many twists and turns as he tries to discover the true meanings of liberty and patriotism.
As a history lover, I am obsessed with this book and Volume II, A Kingdom on Waves. Perfect for anyone who loves history.
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そのせいか、使用単語もレベルが違う。YAだとみくびっていたので思ったより読み終えるのに時間がかかった。
ポイントはこれが実話に基づいているということと、大河的物語の一部に過ぎないということ。ところどころ千々に乱れる文章に心が痛む。今後どうなっていくのだろう・・・。