Growing Up & Facts of Life
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The Magician's Elephant
A classic tale by Newbery Medalist Kate DiCamillo, America's beloved storyteller
A Netflix film
When a fortuneteller's tent appears in the market square of the city of Baltese, orphan Peter Augustus Duchene knows the questions that he needs to ask: Does his sister still live? And if so, how can he find her? The fortuneteller's mysterious answer (an elephant! An elephant will lead him there!) sets off a chain of events so remarkable, so impossible, that you will hardly dare to believe it's true. With atmospheric illustrations by fine artist Yoko Tanaka, here is a dreamlike and captivating tale that could only be narrated by Newbery Medalist Kate DiCamillo. In this timeless fable, she evokes the largest of themes - hope and belonging, desire and compassion - with the lightness of a magician's touch. With dreamlike illustrations and a cover by Yoko Tanaka.
A Netflix film
When a fortuneteller's tent appears in the market square of the city of Baltese, orphan Peter Augustus Duchene knows the questions that he needs to ask: Does his sister still live? And if so, how can he find her? The fortuneteller's mysterious answer (an elephant! An elephant will lead him there!) sets off a chain of events so remarkable, so impossible, that you will hardly dare to believe it's true. With atmospheric illustrations by fine artist Yoko Tanaka, here is a dreamlike and captivating tale that could only be narrated by Newbery Medalist Kate DiCamillo. In this timeless fable, she evokes the largest of themes - hope and belonging, desire and compassion - with the lightness of a magician's touch. With dreamlike illustrations and a cover by Yoko Tanaka.
Editorial Reviews
Kate DiCamillo has a gift, inequitably distributed among writers of all kinds, of eliminating the obvious and still egging on the reader. She writes beautifully but thinks simply. The purity of her prose – the reader goes from paragraph to paragraph delighting in the wonderful simple sentences – only adds to the winsome purity of her vision.
-New York Times Book Review
DiCamillo's carefully crafted prose creates an evocative aura of timelessness for a story that is, in fact, timeless. Tanaka's acrylic artwork is meticulous in detail and aptly matches the tone of the narrative.
-School Library Journal (starred review)
Reading like a fable told long ago, with rich language that begs to be read aloud, this is a magical story about hope and love, loss and home, and of questioning the world versus accepting it as it is.
-Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
From the unexpectedly miraculous feats of a two-bit illusionist to the transformative powers of love, forgiveness, and a good mutton stew, there is much magic afoot in this fable-like tale… The profound and deeply affecting emotions at work in the story are buoyed up by the tale's succinct, lyrical text, gentle touches of humor, and uplifting message of redemption, hope, and the interminable power of asking ‘what if?
-Booklist (starred review)
Thoughtful readers will feel a quiet satisfaction with this almost dainty tale of impossible happenings.
-VOYA
DiCamillo's allegorical novel seems to pack more mass per square inch than average. The plot is fantastical, surreal…And the prose is remarkable, reflecting influences from Kafka to the theater of the absurd to Laurel-and-Hardy humor.
-The Horn Book
The mannered prose and Tanaka's delicate, darkly hued paintings give the story a somber and old-fashioned feel. The absurdist elements-street vendors peddle chunks of the now-infamous opera house ceiling with the cry "Possess the plaster of disaster!"-leaven the overall seriousness, and there is a happy if predictable ending for the eccentric cast of anguished characters, each finding something to make them whole.
-Publishers Weekly
Kate DiCamillo tells a tale of ‘hope, redemption, faith, love, and believing in the impossible' with her usual quiet elegant prose.
-Library Media Connection
Tanaka's shadowy, evocative acrylic paintings echo the dreamy nature of the storytelling and add a surprising amount of solidity (and a particularly nice elephant).
-Bulletin of the Center of Children's Books
With its rhythmic sentences and fairy-tale tone, this novel yields solitary pleasures but begs to be read aloud. Hearing it in a shared space can connect us, one to one, regardless of age, much like the book's closing image: a small stone carving, hands linked, of the elepha...
-New York Times Book Review
DiCamillo's carefully crafted prose creates an evocative aura of timelessness for a story that is, in fact, timeless. Tanaka's acrylic artwork is meticulous in detail and aptly matches the tone of the narrative.
-School Library Journal (starred review)
Reading like a fable told long ago, with rich language that begs to be read aloud, this is a magical story about hope and love, loss and home, and of questioning the world versus accepting it as it is.
-Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
From the unexpectedly miraculous feats of a two-bit illusionist to the transformative powers of love, forgiveness, and a good mutton stew, there is much magic afoot in this fable-like tale… The profound and deeply affecting emotions at work in the story are buoyed up by the tale's succinct, lyrical text, gentle touches of humor, and uplifting message of redemption, hope, and the interminable power of asking ‘what if?
-Booklist (starred review)
Thoughtful readers will feel a quiet satisfaction with this almost dainty tale of impossible happenings.
-VOYA
DiCamillo's allegorical novel seems to pack more mass per square inch than average. The plot is fantastical, surreal…And the prose is remarkable, reflecting influences from Kafka to the theater of the absurd to Laurel-and-Hardy humor.
-The Horn Book
The mannered prose and Tanaka's delicate, darkly hued paintings give the story a somber and old-fashioned feel. The absurdist elements-street vendors peddle chunks of the now-infamous opera house ceiling with the cry "Possess the plaster of disaster!"-leaven the overall seriousness, and there is a happy if predictable ending for the eccentric cast of anguished characters, each finding something to make them whole.
-Publishers Weekly
Kate DiCamillo tells a tale of ‘hope, redemption, faith, love, and believing in the impossible' with her usual quiet elegant prose.
-Library Media Connection
Tanaka's shadowy, evocative acrylic paintings echo the dreamy nature of the storytelling and add a surprising amount of solidity (and a particularly nice elephant).
-Bulletin of the Center of Children's Books
With its rhythmic sentences and fairy-tale tone, this novel yields solitary pleasures but begs to be read aloud. Hearing it in a shared space can connect us, one to one, regardless of age, much like the book's closing image: a small stone carving, hands linked, of the elepha...
Readers Top Reviews
Barbara HarrisonE
A beautiful and gentle story, even though there are hard and difficult truths as well. A father is killed, then a mother dies, two children are left orphans and an elephant is brought to a place she doesn’t belong. But open hearts solve most things in mysterious ways.
theboombody
Although I don't feel that The Magician's Elephant is quite as good as The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane, it's very easy to read, stays on course, and has an interesting variety of surprisingly deep characters. My only real issue with it has to do with a scene where the little boy Peter flashes back to his dad's days as a soldier on the battlefield. I want to know why his dad was in the war; that is, if he was drafted or if he felt called to volunteer his services. Although I can certainly understand Peter's resentment towards the military for the loss of his dad and his resulting rough upbringing by an insanely obsessed soldier, I still don't see the other side of the issue presented. What if the reason Peter's dad died was so that the city of Baltese would be protected from invaders that would have treated Peter even worse than Vilna Lutz does? It may not be the author's responsibility to present such a scenario, but her failure to present it makes her look naive. I'm sure some folks love wars and all that, but most people would probably not rather mess with them, and would be happy to do away with a military if it were even remotely feasible. I view it as a necessary evil in a fallen world, unless you don't have anything or anyone to protect. But most people have a family. I'm not in the military but I respect people who are, and I sure hope Peter respected his dad if his dad chose to serve to protect Baltese.
KarToon12TitoC
I've been slowly making my way through a rather long list of recommended books from my librarian friend, and the premise of this one sounded really interesting. So after diving in, I came away with renewed hope that just maybe, there really IS magic out there (not in the literal sense, but more in that miracles CAN happen, either through divine intervention, fate, or luck). Taking place at the turn of the century, a young orphan boy named Peter, desperately searching to better his lot in life, wishes to find his long lost sister, who he believes is still alive out there, somewhere (despite his cratchety caregiver saying otherwise). He visits a fortune teller, who tells him "the elephant will lead you there". Not long after, an elephant crashes through the roof of an opera house out of thin air, thanks to a magician's magic trick gone wrong. From there, the elephant catches the attention and imagination of the entire city, and we bounce back and forth between various points of view, including Peter, the elephant herself, the magician, the noblewoman who was crippled in the accident, a beggar and his dog, a policeman, and many others; all of whom are directly or indirectly affected by the elephant, and how this one magic trick changes their lives forever. Simply put, the author has created a fairy tale. An actual, technical explanation for how the elephant appeared is never explained (despite many of the characters trying) and one isn't needed. Her presence simply serves as a catalyst that sets the characters in motion. Nearly all the main players lead fairly unhappy and/or dull lives, and whether they're aware of it or not, wish for something better to happen, or just some simple excitement to shake things up. Of course, the appearance of the elephant is more than anyone bargained for, but through the course of the story. one thing leads to another, and like a domino effect, the characters' lives become more intertwined, until finally, one final magical event brings them all together. (Won't spoil anymore.) Some characters get more backstory than others (with Peter being the main player), but all of them are nice to get to know, and none of them feel like just plot devices. It makes me wish that I lived in this town with these quirky, but loveable people. And like all good fairy tales, this one comes with a nice lesson in not losing hope, and that even in the darkest of times, or saddest of circumstances, all isn't lost, and that with a little ingenuity, you can turn your world around and change things for the better. The book is fairly short (you can read it in an afternoon), and while normally I'd want the story to be longer, here, I think the length is just about right. It says what needs to be said with just enough description, and moves at a good pace without dragging anything out for too long. It's a modern day b...
"This book is memorable especially because of the elephant" Lucas (my son) we really enjoyed reading this book together the ending was a good one!
Short Excerpt Teaser
At the end of the century before last, in the market square of the city of Baltese, there stood a boy with a hat on his head and a coin in his hand. The boy's name was Peter Augustus Duchene, and the coin that he held did not belong to him but was instead the property of his guardian, an old soldier named Vilna Lutz, who had sent the boy to the market for fish and bread.
That day in the market square, in the midst of the entirely unremarkable and absolutely ordinary stalls of the fishmongers and cloth merchants and bakers and silversmiths, there had appeared, without warning or fanfare, the red tent of a fortuneteller. Attached to the fortuneteller's tent was a piece of paper, and penned upon the paper in a cramped but unapologetic hand were these words: The most profound and difficult questions that could possibly be posed by the human mind or heart will be answered within for the price of one florit.
Peter read the small sign once, and then again. The audacity of the words, their dizzying promise, made it difficult, suddenly, for him to breathe. He looked down at the coin, the single florit, in his hand.
"But I cannot do it," he said to himself. "Truly, I cannot, for if I do, Vilna Lutz will ask where the money has gone and I will have to lie, and it is a very dishonorable thing to lie."
He put the coin in his pocket. He took the soldier's hat off his head and then put it back on. He stepped away from the sign and came back to it and stood considering, again, the outrageous and wonderful words.
"But I must know," he said at last. He took the florit from his pocket. "I want to know the truth. And so I will do it. But I will not lie about it, and in that way, I will remain at least partly honorable." With these words, Peter stepped into the tent and handed the fortuneteller the coin.
And she, without even looking at him, said, "One florit will buy you one answer and only one. Do you understand?"
"Yes," said Peter.
He stood in the small patch of light making its sullen way through the open flap of the tent. He let the fortuneteller take his hand. She examined it closely, moving her eyes back and forth and back and forth, as if there were a whole host of very small words inscribed there, an entire book about Peter Augustus Duchene composed atop his palm.
"Huh," she said at last. She dropped his hand and squinted up at his face. "But, of course, you are just a boy."
"I am ten years old," said Peter. He took the hat from his head and stood as straight and tall as he was able. "And I am training to become a soldier, brave and true. But it does not matter how old I am. You took the florit, so now you must give me my answer."
"A soldier brave and true?" said the fortuneteller. She laughed and spat on the ground. "Very well, soldier brave and true, if you say it is so, then it is so. Ask me your question."
Peter felt a small stab of fear. What if, after all this time, he could not bear the truth? What if he did not really want to know?
"Speak," said the fortuneteller. "Ask."
"My parents," said Peter.
"That is your...
That day in the market square, in the midst of the entirely unremarkable and absolutely ordinary stalls of the fishmongers and cloth merchants and bakers and silversmiths, there had appeared, without warning or fanfare, the red tent of a fortuneteller. Attached to the fortuneteller's tent was a piece of paper, and penned upon the paper in a cramped but unapologetic hand were these words: The most profound and difficult questions that could possibly be posed by the human mind or heart will be answered within for the price of one florit.
Peter read the small sign once, and then again. The audacity of the words, their dizzying promise, made it difficult, suddenly, for him to breathe. He looked down at the coin, the single florit, in his hand.
"But I cannot do it," he said to himself. "Truly, I cannot, for if I do, Vilna Lutz will ask where the money has gone and I will have to lie, and it is a very dishonorable thing to lie."
He put the coin in his pocket. He took the soldier's hat off his head and then put it back on. He stepped away from the sign and came back to it and stood considering, again, the outrageous and wonderful words.
"But I must know," he said at last. He took the florit from his pocket. "I want to know the truth. And so I will do it. But I will not lie about it, and in that way, I will remain at least partly honorable." With these words, Peter stepped into the tent and handed the fortuneteller the coin.
And she, without even looking at him, said, "One florit will buy you one answer and only one. Do you understand?"
"Yes," said Peter.
He stood in the small patch of light making its sullen way through the open flap of the tent. He let the fortuneteller take his hand. She examined it closely, moving her eyes back and forth and back and forth, as if there were a whole host of very small words inscribed there, an entire book about Peter Augustus Duchene composed atop his palm.
"Huh," she said at last. She dropped his hand and squinted up at his face. "But, of course, you are just a boy."
"I am ten years old," said Peter. He took the hat from his head and stood as straight and tall as he was able. "And I am training to become a soldier, brave and true. But it does not matter how old I am. You took the florit, so now you must give me my answer."
"A soldier brave and true?" said the fortuneteller. She laughed and spat on the ground. "Very well, soldier brave and true, if you say it is so, then it is so. Ask me your question."
Peter felt a small stab of fear. What if, after all this time, he could not bear the truth? What if he did not really want to know?
"Speak," said the fortuneteller. "Ask."
"My parents," said Peter.
"That is your...
