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Voices: The Final Hours of Joan of Arc
Voices: The Final Hours of Joan of Arc

Voices: The Final Hours of Joan of Arc

Product ID : 36682683


Galleon Product ID 36682683
Shipping Weight 0.71 lbs
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Manufacturer HMH Books For Young Readers
Shipping Dimension 8.46 x 5.91 x 0.91 inches
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About Voices: The Final Hours Of Joan Of Arc

About the Author David Elliott is the award-winning author of more than twenty-five books for young people, including the picture books Finn Throws a Fit! and the New York Times best-selling And Here’s to You!. He is the author of the critically acclaimed verse novels, Bull, which received six starred reviews, and Voices: The Final Hours of Joan of Arc, which was shortlisted for The American Library in Paris Book Award and is the recipient of the Claudia Lewis Award for poetry. A native of Ohio, David now lives (and writes) in New Hampshire with his wife and their Dandie Dinmont terrier, Quiggy. Learn more about David by visiting davidelliottbooks.com. Product Description "Stunning . . . elegant . . . arresting . . . supple and harrowing.” - The Wall Street Journal ★“An innovative, entrancing account of a popular figure that will appeal to fans of verse, history, and biography.” - Kirkus, starred review In poems that surprise and move readers, bestselling author David Elliott explores how Joan of Arc changed the course of history and remains a figure of fascination centuries after her extraordinary life and death. Told through medieval poetic forms and in the voices of the people and objects in Joan of Arc’s life, (including her family and even the trees, clothes, cows, and candles of her childhood), Voices offers an unforgettable perspective on an extraordinary young woman. Along the way it explores timely issues such as gender, misogyny, and the peril of speaking truth to power. Before Joan of Arc became a saint, she was a girl inspired. It is that girl we come to know in Voices. Review Praise for Voices: "With stunning lyricism, these poems fashion an enlivened, gripping narrative that addresses themes of gender identity, class and vocation, and innocence and culpability, bringing fresh nuance to an oft-told story." — Publishers Weekly (starred review) “Ethereal, wondering, and poignant. An innovative, entrancing account of a popular figure that will appeal to fans of verse, history, and biography.” — Kirkus Reviews (starred review) "Elliot delivers another hit. [Voices] showcases a gorgeous storytelling style that flows in an effortless fashion. . . . A glorious tribute to a woman who dared, defied, and defended her truth. A must-have." — School Library Journal (starred review) "Joan’s thoughts are almost conversational, in simple left-justified verse with rhyme skillfully embedded within lines. . . . [A] creative historical account of a young woman who answered a norm-shattering higher call." — Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books (starred review) "An elegant, spirited introduction to classical poetry and to a woman fighting not just for a cause but for a place in a world that undervalued her voice." — Booklist "Stunning . . . . elegant . . . . arresting . . . . supple and harrowing.” — Wall Street Journal Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. The Candle I recall it as if it were yesterday. She was so lovely and young. In her hand I darted and flick- ered away, an ardent lover's ad- venturing tongue. I had never known such yearning, exciting and risky and cruel. As we walked to the church, I was burning; she was my darling, my future, my fuel. I wanted to set her afire right then. But she was so pure, so chaste; her innocence only increased my desire. Still, I know the dangers of haste. So I watched and I studied and waited, and I saw that her young blood ran hot. She had no idea we were fated. I could name what she craved; she could not. Then in her eye, I caught my reflection. In her eye, I saw my- self shine, and I saw the heat rise on her virgin's com- plexion. That's when I knew: She was mine. Joan I've heard it said that when we die the soul discards its useless shell, and our life will flash before our eyes. Is this a gift from Heaven? Or a jinx from deepest Hell? Only the dying know, but what the dying know the dying do not tell. What more the dying know it seems I am about to lear