Edgeland

by Jake Halpern, Peter Kujawinski Narrated by Karissa Vacker

Overview

An upper-middle grade thriller by the*New York Times*bestselling*Nightfall*authors-perfect for fans of James Dashner's Maze Runner books.

Thousands of miles south of the island of Bliss, day and night last for 72 hours. Here is one of the natural wonders of this world: a whirlpool thirty miles wide and a hundred miles around. This is the Drain. Anything sucked into its frothing, turbulent waters is never seen again.

Wren has spent most of her life on Edgeland, a nearby island where people bring their dead to be blessed and prepared for the afterlife. There the dead are loaded into boats with treasure and sent over the cliff, and into the Drain. Orphaned and alone, Wren dreams of escaping Edgeland, and her chance finally comes when furriers from the Polar north arrive with their dead, and treasure for their dead.

With the help of her friend Alec, Wren plans to loot one of the boats before it enters the Drain. But the boat--with Alec and Wren onboard--is sucked into the whirlpool. What they discover beyond the abyss is beyond what anyone could have imagined.

Includes an*original song written and performed by Celia Rose. Visit*www.celiarosemusic.com*for more.

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly

03/20/2017
In this intriguing fantasy, two friends discover the secret of life after death as they travel to the realm where people go to await their final fate. Wren is an orphan and thief living on Edgeland, an island that services the Drain, a hole in the ocean into which the deceased are sent. When Wren is framed for murder, she attempts to flee, and she and her best friend Alec are swept through the Drain, ending up in Purgatory. They discover a bizarre community made up of the living and the dead, led by religious leaders who exercise tyrannical control over their subjects. In order to return to the world in which they belong, Alec and Wren must unravel long-hidden secrets and free the trapped spirits. Halpern and Kujawinski provide a fascinating world, and their story is fueled by a strong premise and compelling protagonists, but it doesn’t reach its full potential. As in Nightfall, too many aspects of the setting are left unexplained while the plot rushes ahead at full speed. Ages 10–up. Agent: Tina Bennett, William Morris Endeavor. (May)

From the Publisher

★ "Halpern and Kujawinksi have constructed a refreshing, original fantasy that thoughtfully probes the subjects of class, religion, and morality. . . . Compellingly written, this otherworldly adventure is a unique offering that deserves attention."—Booklist, [starred review]

"An imaginative adventure/fantasy exploring the afterlife. Edgeland is a place more for the living than for the dead. . . . Recommended for fans of James Dashner’s “Maze Runner” series, this is a solid addition to collections serving upper middle grade and middle school readers."—School Library Journal 

"Give this compelling look at life-after-death to young readers looking for a mystery, a friendship that spans worlds, and those interested in a unique world with a totally different look at life beyond life."—VOYA

"In this intriguing fantasy, two friends discover the secret of life after death as they travel to the realm where people go to await their final fate . . . . Halpern and Kujawinski provide a fascinating world, and their story is fueled by a strong premise and compelling protagonists"—Publishers Weekly

School Library Journal

05/01/2017
Gr 5–8—An imaginative adventure/fantasy exploring the afterlife. Edgeland is a place more for the living than for the dead. The island is next to the Drain, a circular waterfall that leads to the afterlife. Wren and Alec, both 12, get mixed up in some trouble and fall into the Drain, where they discover that the afterlife is not what they have been led to believe. The dead are in an endless trance while they await their release from purgatory into paradise. Wren and Alec now must solve the mystery of what is happening in the afterlife and help the dead to move on. The action is slow to start but soon develops into a compelling tale with high stakes and lots of unanswered questions. Wren and Alec have a strong relationship and interesting, plausible backstories, although they do read more like older teens than 12-year-olds. The world-building is the highlight of the novel: the settings are viscerally described, and the practices and belief system of this society are nuanced and fleshed out. The themes of tradition and what happens to us when we die are thoughtfully explored. VERDICT Recommended for fans of James Dashner's "Maze Runner" series, this is a solid addition to collections serving upper middle grade and middle school readers.—Allison McLean, Elkhart Public Library, IN

Kirkus Reviews

2017-03-06
After being banished from House Aron for stealing, orphan Wren must endure the bleak life of a grayling on the island of Edgeland, living underground and supporting herself through thievery. Her banishment has separated her from her best friend, Alec, who by the age of 12, has risen from an apprentice to a high-ranking position within House Aron, conducting complex funeral ceremonies. Dead bodies are kept in ice blocks, then sent sailing into the Drain, a large circular waterfall down which the frozen dead disappear into a seemingly bottomless mist that is the entryway to the afterlife, either the Sunlit Glade or the Moonlit Beach. The two friends are brought together when the chest with the payment for a funeral mistakenly tumbles, along with the dead, into the Drain. Desperate to recover it, Alec and Wren find themselves descending with it. Alec and Wren are now "breathers" in the world of the dead—where they learn the afterlife isn't quite what the ancient songs profess it to be. Unfortunately, this compelling premise, bolstered by complex worldbuilding, loses its steam about halfway through, as the protagonists make their way from one realm of the dead to the next, with more running and hiding than actual story. The occasional mention of pale skin but no other racial markers implies a white default. As the living help to liberate the dead, intriguing characters roam the pages of a lifeless story. (Fantasy. 10-14)

Product Details

BN ID:	2940169498080
Publisher:	Penguin Random House
Publication date:	05/09/2017
Edition description:	Unabridged
Age Range:	10 - 13 Years

Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

Wren walked along the edge of the known world looking for coins to steal. A few coppers would do. A silver piece would be even better. Her escape fund was almost complete, and soon she’d be sailing for the great spice-trading city of Ankora.

Her eyes darted across the rocks, searching for the dull gleam of metal. She had been doing this for so many years that it had become second nature. It was forbidden, of course, but she had a worthy goal. Leaving Edgeland would mean the end of stealing—from the living, and the dead.

A spray of mist dampened Wren’s face as she gazed off into the Drain: a massive, circular waterfall, almost thirty miles in diameter, into which all the water in the ocean drained. This close, it was hard to see anything but the churning water. On rare occasions, you could see the far side of the waterfall.

Today the late-afternoon sky was dark with clouds, and visibility was low. After a few seconds, Wren turned away. She wasn’t there to gape.

She was there to work.

Wren stood on the uppermost level of the Ramparts, an ancient seawall that circled the Drain. There was a road on top with lookouts, and vents at the bottom that allowed water to pass through but kept big ships from being pulled in. Most of the ships that sailed through these waters were headed to Edgeland—a nearby island, which sat just a few miles from the Drain. Wren lived here. It was composed almost entirely of bone houses, which blessed and processed dead bodies.

A burst of chanting grabbed Wren’s attention. Up ahead, a group of religious pilgrims had gathered around a priest. Such scenes were typical on the Ramparts. Suns and Shadows both believed that the Drain was the gateway to the afterlife, and both sent their dead into the Drain. They threw coins into the water, too, hoping the bits of gold and silver would reach their loved ones.

Once in a while, when Wren was feeling lonely, she’d flick a coin into the Drain for her mother, who’d died four years ago in a boating accident. Wren sometimes liked to picture her down there, in a happy place glimmering with mist. But today she had no time to daydream.

She gave the pilgrims a wide berth as she passed by. They were Shadows, wearing their customary silver prayer robes. It was unusual to see them during the daylight hours.

“SINNERS!” their priest yelled. “Turn from evil and em-brace the Shadow, so we can drown the Serpent of Fear.”

The others punched the air with their fists and chanted: “THE SHADOW! THE SHADOW! THE SHADOW!”

They began passing a cloth-swaddled bundle. It was a baby. Eventually, it came to rest in the hands of the priest—a tall, fat man in a shimmering cloak and ornate silver crown.

The priest’s name was Friderik, though his enemies called him “Fat Freddy.” Wren didn’t know him personally, but she’d seen him and his followers. People said he was a “firebrand,” but as far as Wren could tell, Friderik was nothing more than a bully in fancy robes. To provoke the Suns, he gathered his followers during daylight hours and led them in loud prayers.

Fat Freddy was playing a dangerous game. In this part of the world—thousands of miles due south from the Polar North—the Rule of Light was strictly observed: During the seventy-two hours of day, the Suns ruled and could do as they pleased, while the seventy-two hours of night belonged to the Shadows.

Fat Freddy and his Shadows didn’t even glance at Wren as she walked past. She looked like nothing more than a poor Sun girl, her frayed yellow cloak draped over her head and body. They would have been shocked to see that the cloak’s inner lining was silver, which meant she could pass as a Shadow  when she wanted. It was illegal to own such a robe—even worse than Fat Freddy’s disobeying the Rule of Light—but for a thief like Wren, a reversible cloak came in handy.

Wren could still see Fat Freddy and his Shadows in the distance when she stopped abruptly, blinking away the mist. A coin glittered near the Rampart’s edge. Usually, Wren found coppers, but this was a dinar from the Eastern Crags—made of gold and inset with a jadeite nugget. It was a once-in-a-lifetime find.

Wren glanced around, looking for the sentries who pa-trolled the Ramparts. As she knew too well, it was a serious crime to steal from the dead. And the sentries were hardened men—who’d be all too happy to lop off a few of her fingers in the name of justice. Thankfully, none were in sight.

The gold dinar rested on a flat stone engraved with the most famous mantra from the holy Common Book:

DROWN THE SERPENT OF FEAR.

Both Suns and Shadows believed that you had to cleanse yourself of fear before entering purgatory—the great waiting room before heaven. This particular mantra was everywhere: etched on flags, painted on the sides of buildings, even tat-tooed on the legs and backs of the devout. Before becoming a thief, Wren had worked at a bone house where bodies were blessed before their voyage to the Drain. She’d been forced to write this mantra over and over on the bottom of funeral rafts. Merely looking at it made her hand cramp.

Only a guardrail separated Wren from the dinar. She glanced around and saw no one. Wren knelt down, as if praying, and pressed the palm of her hand against a rotting wooden slat. Her robe fell back, revealing a scratched-up brown arm. On her wrist was a bracelet, a simple rope loop with a talisman on it—a wooden figurine of a girl that her mother had carved.

Wren pressed harder against the guardrail until the wood began to give. A post cracked, allowing her arm to snake through. She kept reaching, reaching, reaching—until her finger touched the coin. She dragged it toward her. When the dinar was safely in her fist, she let her eyes wander down into the Drain itself, which was obscured in mist. Thank goodness for that. They said if you gazed too deeply into the Drain, you’d lose your mind.

Time to move.

Wren put the dinar in her cloak pocket, along with a few copper coins she’d found, and walked quickly back along the Ramparts. She couldn’t stop smiling. She pictured her-self standing on a beautiful ocean clipper, sails full of wind, bound for the fragrant streets of Ankora. She’d find the man who’d come looking for her years ago when she’d first arrived in Edgeland. Maybe she had a wealthy inheritance waiting for her and a great big extended family, too. All right, so maybe that was too much to hope for. But still, any family at all—even a distant third cousin—would be better than nothing.

Which is what she had now.

Nothing.

On the island of Edgeland, the mix of young beggars and thieves who lived in tunnels beneath the ground were called Graylings, because their skin was often gray with dirt and grime. It was a miserable life. Wren had to cut her hair, almost to the scalp, to keep the lice away. But not for much longer.

Wren kicked at the pebble-strewn ground in front of her.

I wish Alec would come with me. But why would he? Alec was twelve, too, but he had parents, cousins, family of all types and flavors, and a good position at a prestigious bone house. It was a miracle that they were friends.

The bell signaling the ferry’s departure for Edgeland began to clang, interrupting her thoughts. A long, steep set of stairs led to the ferry landing below, where crowds of mourners had begun to line up. They were a mishmash of Suns from every corner of the world—pale-skinned boys in turbans from the Eastern Crags, old men in chain mail from the Highlands, and women from the Jade Archipelago in shimmering green cloaks.

The bell clanged again, followed by a burst of excited shouts and cries. At the bottom of the stairs, a mob of angry Suns surrounded Fat Freddy’s entourage.

“We’re not going anywhere!” shouted a small man with a hawkish nose and a razor-thin beard along his chin. “We do not submit to Suns!” Wren recognized him. His name was Dorman—one of Freddy’s loudest supporters.

“You have no right to be here during daylight!” hollered one of the Suns. He pushed Dorman, knocking him back-ward. Soon, others were shoving, too.

“PROTECT THE BABY!” screamed Dorman. “JOIN RANKS!”

Fat Freddy’s followers formed a tight circle around a small woman who was holding the baby.

“Separate yourselves!” yelled a red-faced sentry, who was standing in the thick of the mob and trying desperately to keep the peace. “Separate yourselves!”

Wren grimaced and made her way down the stairs, looking for a place where she could jump off and slide down the em-bankment to the landing below. The stairs made several sharp turns and, at one of these bends, she came upon three Suns, their gold robes smeared with blotches of red.

Wren stopped short. Those are bloodstains. A big, bull-necked bald man grabbed her robe and pulled her toward him.

“You didn’t see us!” he hissed, so close that she could feel his spittle landing on her cheeks. Then he pushed her roughly away. The other two men paused, as if trying to de-cide whether to attack her.

Wren eyed the red marks the man had left on the shoulder and sleeves of her robe.

“I never saw you,” she whispered, nodding her head.

The men rushed past, revealing the body of a man lying on the ground. It was Fat Freddy. A knife was lodged right below his heart. His watery eyes strained to look at Wren. Fat Freddy was alive, but he wouldn’t be for long.

Wren glanced down at the sleeves of her robe. She began rolling them up frantically, trying to hide the blood.

Seconds later, Dorman appeared at the base of the stairs.

“MASTER!” he shouted. “MY PRIEST!” He looked up at Wren, his face frozen in shock.

More Shadows appeared next to him, looking at Fat Freddy and then at Wren.

Dorman pointed a finger at Wren. “That grayling girl did this!” he yelled. “Murderer!”

Wren turned and sprinted back up the stairs, willing her-self to move faster than she ever had before.

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