All My Noble Dreams and Then What Happens by Gloria Whelan (English) Hardcover B

Description: All My Noble Dreams and Then What Happens by Gloria Whelan Synopsis coming soon....... FORMAT Hardcover LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Publisher Description Rosalind inhabits two worlds in 1920s India. There is the world of her heritage—English to the core, with a strict father who is a major in the British Indian Army, a muted mother, and a tutor to educate her within the walls of the luxurious estate her family occupies. And then there is the world of her homeland—or the land that feels like home, anyway. The world where followers of Gandhi surround her, and the streets are full of poverty and the whispers of independence.The two worlds are colliding, and despite what Rosalind has been raised to think, she begins to resent the heavy hand of British rule. When her fathers military position provides Rosalind the opportunity to meet the Prince of Wales, she has the chance to tell him about the injustice she witnesses in the streets of India. Rosalind desperately wants to do what is right, but will she have the courage to—and what will be the consequence? Author Biography Gloria Whelan is an award-winning and critically acclaimed author of many books for children and young adults. She won the National Book Award for young peoples literature for her novel Homeless Bird. A versatile author of historical and contemporary fiction for children and young adults, as well as short stories and poetry for adults, Whelan is, according to Liz Rosenberg in the Chicago Tribune, "an accomplished, graceful, and intelligent writer." She lives in Grosse Pointe, Michigan, and you can visit her at GloriaWhelan.com. Review In this sequel to Small Acts of Amazing Courage (2011), heroine Rosalind dances with the Prince of Wales during his 1921 visit to India and does her bit for Gandhis independence movement. Growing up in colonial India, Rosalind isnt "what a well-bred English girl should be," to the distress of her very British father. Two years before, Rosalind and her friend Max barely avoided arrest for publically supporting Gandhis movement to free India. Now they sympathize with his nonviolent strikes disrupting the country. When Rosalinds father is invited to festivities surrounding the Prince of Wales visit to Calcutta, Max coaxes her to deliver an important letter from Gandhi to the prince. Months later, in London, Rosalinds chance encounter with King George V also affects Gandhis cause. Whether saving an Indian girl from an arranged marriage or teaching Indian boys, Rosalinds loyalties lie with her adopted country. Though at first approaching Indias struggle from a "White Mans Burden" perspective, Rosalind learns not to apply English values to India and its cultures. Whelan conveys the atmosphere of a critical period in Indias history from the sympathetic, first-person perspective of an egalitarian heroine who acts on her principles. An entertaining, if fanciful look at colonial India in transition. (authors note, text of Gandhis letter of 1920, glossary) (Historical fiction. 9-12) * Kirkus Reviews *The daughter of a British Civil Service commissioner in 1920s India, 17-year-old Rosalind is torn between her proper English upbringing and her sympathies for the Indian people. Does a visit from the Prince of Wales represent an opportunity to make her family proud or the chance to deliver a politically charged message? In this sequel to Small Acts of Amazing Courage (2011), Whelan seamlessly weaves history and culture into a novel that stands on its own. .. but readers captivated by the characters, the setting, and the involving first-person narrative will be longing for the story to continue. * Booklist * Review Quote The daughter of a British Civil Service commissioner in 1920s India, 17-year-old Rosalind is torn between her proper English upbringing and her sympathies for the Indian people. Does a visit from the Prince of Wales represent an opportunity to make her family proud or the chance to deliver a politically charged message? In this sequel to Small Acts of Amazing Courage (2011), Whelan seamlessly weaves history and culture into a novel that stands on its own. .. but readers captivated by the characters, the setting, and the involving first-person narrative will be longing for the story to continue. Excerpt from Book All My Noble Dreams and then What Happens 1 We live in India, but just as England wont let go of India, England has its hands on our family. You can tell a lot about that by what we have for breakfast. Father always manages to be at the table seconds before our cook, Gopel, has the food ready on the buffet. That way Father can start the day with a complaint. His breakfast is typically English: grilled kippers, eggs, bacon, and heaps of toast with Dundee marmalade. The marmalade comes to our home in India all the way from Scotland, and Father storms if we run out. After breakfast, he will leave for work. As deputy commissioner in the British Civil Service, his job is to tell the people of India what they must do, and because of the strike by the Indian people to protest Englands rule, they may or may not do it. Mother is not at breakfast. She is resting from the day before. She worries about everything, which exhausts her. She is arranged on her chaise longue, wearing a silk negligee trimmed in lace, her long gold hair falling over her shoulders, sipping the tea brought to her by Amina, who was once my ayah and is now Mothers ladys maid, since I no longer need a nursemaid. Mother will be choosing what to worry about today. Aunt Ethyl, like Father, has an English breakfast. If she could wave a wand, she would turn India into England in a second. Gone would be the brightly colored parakeets, the mango and acacia trees, the bougainvilleas that weep blossoms like crimson and pink tears. Instead we would have Englands gloomy skies, brown birds, and bare trees. She has been here in India for nearly two years, but on that morning, when the heat had already found its way into the house, she wore a well-starched, high-necked cotton blouse and a wool skirt, which covered every inch of her ankles like a gray cloud. Aunt Louise is of two minds. She loves India, but she has not abandoned her native England. For breakfast she has congee, rice porridge. It is just what our Indian servants will be eating in the kitchen, but they will have spicy pickles with their congee. Aunt Louise, however, reaches for the toast and marmalade. Baneet, who has been tailor and dressmaker to our family forever, made for Aunt Louise a brightly colored blouse from some Indian cotton my aunt found in the bazaar. Her skirt, on the other hand, was of sturdy English serge. But here is the thing about Aunt Louise: While Aunt Ethyls feet are imprisoned in tightly laced English oxfords, Aunt Louise goes about in sandals. The first morning she came down in a pair of sandals, Aunt Ethyl accused, "Louise, you are not fully dressed." When I stayed with my aunts two years ago at their home in England, Aunt Ethyl was a terrible bully. She never tired of telling Aunt Louise what to do. I rescued Aunt Louise by taking her back to India with me, but Aunt Ethyl followed us as determined as a bloodhound, and here they were. But this was the Aunt Louise of India, not England, for she had tucked a yellow hibiscus blossom in her hair. There was nothing in Aunt Ethyls hair except long, sharp hairpins. The hairpins were to keep any tiny tendril of hair from escaping the tight knot Aunt Ethyl makes of her long black hair. Its as if she was terrified someone might find her attractive. As usual my breakfast was slapdash. I reached for whatever I could get down the fastest. When I finished, I would hurry to my tutor, Mr. Snartwell, then afterward to a forbidden place. Something in the newspaper made Father roar like a lion. It was the strike, the hartal. Fathers enemy, Mr. Gandhi, is a small man, half Fathers size, but Gandhi is powerful. He is the head of the Indian National Congress, or the Congress Party, and he is leading the movement to free India from Great Britains rule. The Congress Party had called for a hartal, a nonviolent strike to shut down all of India until England gives India her freedom. Indian students had left their British schools and colleges. Indians had boycotted the British courts and set up their own courts. They had left their jobs in railways and the police departments, which were all managed by us British. Gandhi was even calling for Indian soldiers to strike. This was especially infuriating to Father, who served in the Great War as a major in a battalion of the Gurkha Rifles. The men he commanded were Indian soldiers. Though the war ended in 1918, more than two years ago, Father was still an active officer in the British army, which had been called upon to keep order during the hartal. Father cracked open his soft-boiled egg in a really brutal way. "The Indians are not ready for freedom," he said. "They spend all their money on festivals and marriages and funerals. One of their so-called holy beggars gets more respect than a good worker." "Harlan," Aunt Louise said in a small voice, "surely we cannot criticize a man who has given up worldly goods to walk in the way of his religion." "Nonsense," Aunt Ethyl said in a cross voice. "Who is to do that mans work?" "They wont be taught," Father said. "They are half-starved. Why must it be just rice? Why dont they plant potatoes and eat them?" "Why should we tell them what to eat?" I asked. A perfectly reasonable question. "And if they are half-starved, its because of the pitiful wages we pay them." There was a time when I didnt care about such things, but then I met Max Nelson, who was a lieutenant in the British army and served under my father. Max went on to study history at Cambridge University, and now hes back here in India. It was Max who helped me see how unfair it is for England to rule over India. That means Father and I are always at war. "Rosalind, you know nothing about these matters and had better stay with things you do know. Your meddling in the past has led you into predicaments that have been an embarrassment to us all." "Im sure Rosy did not mean any disrespect, Harlan," Aunt Louise said in her soft voice, "but surely there is something to be said for the longing of the Indian people for their independence." Aunt Louise, who spent years under the rule of Aunt Ethyl, understood what it was like to have someone always telling you what to do. "They are no more than children," Aunt Ethyl said. "They would not know what to do with independence. They should be grateful to the British." That was too much for me. "Civil disobedience and strikes are all thats left to the Indian people. They arent allowed to make their own laws. England taxes them, tells them what they can write in their own newspapers, rules their courts, and tells them how they must live. Thousands of Indian soldiers died in the war to keep other countries free, only for the survivors to come back to their own country and have no freedom at all." I couldnt help saying what I thought. It was all so unfair. Max would have been proud of me, but I knew I was in for it. Mercifully, Ranjit, our burra mali, the head of our household servants, came into the dining room and presented to Father the morning mail on a silver salver. It was Fathers rule that the servants should see no unpleasantness among us, so my scolding was put off. While Father went through the mail, Aunt Ethyl and Aunt Louise made plans for their day. They both volunteered at an orphanage for Indian children where my baby was. Well, not really my baby, but Nadi is there because of me. I was the one who rescued Nadi from an evil man who wanted to harm him. Two years ago I learned that our sweeper had lost his job and, because his family was starving, he had sold his grandson to Pandy. Pandy was a horrible man who twisted the arms and legs of babies so they would grow up to be pitiful sights. He put the deformed children about the streets of the bazaar as beggars. Much to Fathers horror, I bought the baby from Pandy and gave him to Mrs. Nelsons orphanage. Aunt Ethyl brought healthcare and proper British manners to the children at the orphanage. Aunt Louise told them stories, wiped their bottoms, and gave them hugs. The orphanage was the idea of Mrs. Nelson, who is the wife of a very rich jute merchant. She is also the mother of Max, whom Father has forbidden me to see ever again. Thats because Max and I got into trouble going to demonstrations here, and even in London, supporting Gandhi. We nearly ended up in jail. The thing is, I see Max nearly every day. Using his knife, Father opened an envelope, getting egg on it. "I see your mother has been at the shops again." Father sighed deeply as he examined the bill. "Well, of course, there are parties and such, and she must have what she needs." After all these years, Father was still head over heels in love with Mother. He looked carefully at the return address on a thick envelope in some rich, creamy stationary. His face turned red, and he quickly wiped the remaining egg from his knife, examining it carefully to be sure it was clean. Then, deliberately, as if he were a doctor opening someones chest to get at his heart, Father opened the envelope and extracted a folded page made of the same heavy paper. We were all looking at him now, waiting for what was coming. In wonder, as if he couldnt quite believe it, Father announced, "His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales, will be coming to Calcutta in December. My battalion of the Gurkha Rifl Details ISBN1442449764 Author Gloria Whelan Short Title ALL MY NOBLE DREAMS & THEN WHA Language English ISBN-10 1442449764 ISBN-13 9781442449763 Media Book Format Hardcover DEWEY FIC Residence Mancelona, MI, US Birth 1961 Audience Age 9-12 Year 2013 Place of Publication New York Country of Publication United States Imprint Paula Wiseman Books Publication Date 2013-04-02 NZ Release Date 2013-04-02 US Release Date 2013-04-02 UK Release Date 2013-04-02 AU Release Date 2013-03-31 Pages 272 Publisher Simon & Schuster Alternative 9781442451575 Illustrations f-c jacket: spfx: spot uv Audience Children / Juvenile We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. 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