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Jessica Jones and the Gates of Penseron

by Graham Clews

327 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #06-1156; ISBN 1-4120-9402-X; US$22.17, C$25.50, EUR18.21, £12.75

Join Jessica and her brother Jake on an adventurous romp through time and danger. It's time travel with a unique twist!

About the Book

A Testimonial by Marg Gilks, Editor

When I finished The Gates of Penseron I wanted to read again all the books I loved best as a child; I wanted to experience more of the special magic that The Gates of Penseron rekindled for me. Today's young readers would likely put The Gates of Penseron on their best-loved books list; it's a fun, imaginative romp through historical settings accessed via a magical - or is it extraterrestial? - world populated by an eclectic mix of "Penserians," the appealing and often amusing characters who "fell in" at one point in time or another and decided to stay. Young readers will identify with the concerns and pleasures of the two young protagonists, Jessica and her brother Jacob, and happily immerse themselves in Penseron, the result of some thorough world-building by author Graham Clews. From the moment the chameleon-like Roodi Roodemit appeared on Jessica's doorstep and left oh-so mysteriously in "A black limousine a block long [that] . . . purred off down the street" until it ended with the subtle message of empowerment demonstrated by Jessica and Jacob throughout the book ("If you try hard enough, you can make things happen."), I sank gladly into this solidly written story.

The Gates of Penseron would do well in the ranks of children's fantasy fiction, a genre made so popular with young readers by the Harry Potter books and the film adaptation of C.S. Lewis' classic Chronicles of Narnia books. The Gates of Penseron offers a fresh take on the conventional ideas of magic, giving it a sensible grounding without stripping away the wonder. And while, like the protagonists in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, or Alice in Wonderland, Jessica and Jacob tumble into a fantasic world beyond their own, remote controls and computer games establish The Gates of Penseron as a contemporary story, one where much of the adventure happens in our very own past. The Gates of Penseron is time travel with a unique twist, and I highly recommend it.

About the Author

Graham Clews was born in York, England in 1942, and emigrated to Canada in 1956.

His later schooling was in Edmonton, Alberta where he obtained the professional designation of Chartered Accountant in 1966.

The author was married in 1963, has three children and has been blessed with three grandchildren.

Graham intends to fully retire in two years, and take up full time writing.

Excerpts

Jessica Jones and The Gates of Penseron

Excerpts from the Book

From the Prologue:

As for Jessica Jones herself, at twelve years old, she's mostly happy with her life, and she really does get along quite well with her brothers most of the time. In fact, people often remark upon just how well, especially where it concerns Jacob.

"It is uncanny," they might say, "how the pair play so well together! Why, the two seem to get things done without uttering a single word to each other." Which is true! If, however, those very same people were to pay a bit more attention, they might see what's really happening. How, when Jacob is looking for a red pen instead of a blue pen, Jessica will hand one to him without either saying a word. Or, when Jacob has a question, Jessica, without looking up from what she is doing, will answer before he has opened his mouth!

Since these little oddities have been going on for a very long time, Jacob and Jessica simply consider it natural. Jessica has always taken that sort of thing in her stride and, since she is usually busy, doesn't pay any attention. Besides, there are other things she considers much more of a bother. Jessica Jones has a nice, happy family and she also has lots of friends besides Jake, but . . . !

Life always seems to hold some sort of a "but . . . !"

No matter how well everything is going in a person's life, there always seems to be some sort of nuisance to cope with - a missed homework assignment, for example, or a fat, ugly pimple on the first day of school. Or, as the proverb should perhaps really go: every silver lining has its cloud.

Jessica's particular cloud, which is a never-ending source of frustration, is her height. At twelve years old, Jessica is not quite three and a half feet tall. That makes her nearly two feet shorter than most of her friends, and almost two and a half feet shorter than Billy Cox, who is the meanest, most spiteful boy in the seventh grade.

From Chapter 8, 'The Ancient Druid Has a Spell':

"It is a long story, master. Perhaps we might go inside and tell of it." Abeth dipped his head in deference, and gestured to Jessica to step forward. "The child apologizes for startling you with her vision. She is proud of her world."

"Hmmph," the druid growled, and peered owlishly down at Jessica, then back at Abeth. "And what makes you think either of you was the best apprentice I ever had? Bah!"

Sencab gruffly motioned them into the hut. The inside was all that Jessica could have imagined of a druid's lodge and more, far more. Her imagination could never have allowed for the smells. Some came from the druid himself, which she did not find surprising, because he wasn't nearly as freshly scrubbed as his former apprentice. His robe was a menu of a month's meals. His streaked, tangled beard badly needed a good wash and comb, and his bare feet were calloused and grimy. The lodge itself was no neater, and heavy with ripe odours: the chalky aroma of half dead ashes, the fumes of a full night pot, the salty odour of crudely tanned hides, and the acrid stink of a hundred potions.

"Sit down." Sencab tossed an armload of kindling on the smoldering ashes in the firepit and motioned to the animal hides on either side. "I'll find something wet to wash the dry from your throats."

The druid pushed a wooden board aside with a grimy foot, revealing a dank hole in the dirt floor. He reached down and pulled an earthenware jug from inside, ignoring a dozen mice that burst from the pit in panic. Each found sanctuary in the hides, jars, and rough furnishings scattered about the room. Sencab never gave them a second glance. Jessica couldn't help thinking of the orderly behaviour of Freddie the paperweight, still unconvinced the tiny creature was not actually real.

The kindling quickly took light. A bright, crackling blaze lit the gloom, and the inside of the hut grew cleaner and friendlier, an illusion created by the flames. Sencab passed the stone jug to Archie, who took a long, satisfied pull and smacked his lips. Jessica politely declined and passed it on to Wulf. The old druid, meanwhile, creaked down onto a tattered wolf hide directly across from Jessica, and stared at her with eyes that mirrored his puzzlement. She began to feel uncomfortable.

"Tell him you admire his lodge," Abeth's voice whispered in her mind. "I'll form the words for you."

"You've got to be kidding."

From Chapter 13, 'A Trip to the Circus':

Several voices rang strong and clear above the general din. One in particular seemed to be shouting an order. The boys looked up at a small group of men, all dressed in long, white robes, who stood inside a special, boxed-in area. A score of helmeted soldiers stood at rigid attention behind them, each holding a spear and a brightly painted shield. A thin-faced man with a receding hairline and a green laurel wreath on his head seemed to be in charge. He, too, was pointing and shouting. None of the boys could understand a word, but they did understand that they had to get out of there - fast.

"What'll we do?" Jacob was close to tears, and would have cried if the twins had shown the least sign of doing the same.

"We gotta move," Dobar muttered as the roar of the crowd rose to new levels.

"Where?"

"Back the way we came. Quick." Dobar started toward the passageway, then stopped dead in his tracks. "Uh-oh. I forgot."

Two lions trotted from the tunnel and crouched low to the ground, confused by the brilliant sunlight and the roaring crowd. The largest swung its head until its yellow eyes peered in their direction. The boys edged slowly backward toward the safety of the stone island in the centre of the arena, but the movement caught the big cat's attention. The animal raised its nose, sniffed, and loped toward them. The crowd roared louder. The lion paused, its fierce yellow eyes shifting sideways to the track curving around the end of the huge stone island. The earth began to shake.

"Oh no!" Damon wailed.

Jacob and Dobar turned. They could only stare in horror as a half a dozen chariots careened around the curve. Wheels skidded sideways on the hard-packed track and hooves flailed in a cloud of dust as six screaming charioteers cracked their whips over the heads of twenty four squealing, snorting horses.

They're brown, Jacob thought nonsensically, his mind numb as the wild stampede bore down on them, not white like the ones on the screen in Penseron.

From Chapter 18, 'The Tower of London':

Tullus sneered, and clambered to his feet. He slid the rest of the coins across the table toward Sally. "Here, keep the change."

Sally's face split in a broad smile, and she bobbed her head at least a dozen times as she swept the money into her apron. The large windfall seemed to make her chatty. "Are you gentlemans 'ere for to see the 'angings?"

Tullus stopped in his tracks, intrigued. Jessica groaned. "'Angings?"

"Aye, sir." Sally blushed, as if afraid she was being too forward. "'Daring Jack 'Awkins is up for the big stretch, along wiv a few others. They says the crowd will be bigger than it were for Dashin' Dan Merryweather when 'e got 'ung last March. Weren't as well-liked, Dan weren't. Then there's the weather, of course."

"The weather?" Tullus repeated, his attention full on the serving wench.

"Aye, sir, the weather." Sally gestured toward the open door. "It looks to be a fine day. That always fetches a crowd. Why, Moor Field will be packed wiv merrymakers. I'd love to go." Her pretty face briefly turned wistful. "I 'aven't seen a good 'anging since I were a sniveller.",

"A sniveller?"

"Aye, you know - " Sally ran a sleeve over the end of her nose and giggled " - a little 'un."

"I see," Tullus drawled in fascination. "Well, you're far luckier than me, my girl. I've never been to an 'anging in my entire life. What time does it happen?"

"Oh, an hour past midday, or thereabouts. It depends on the show ol' Jack puts on."

"Hmm." Tullus glanced at his watch and pulled thoughtfully at his lower lip.

"Norman, wanna go see an old-fashioned hanging?"

"Not really, Tull."

Norman was plainly unhappy with the idea, but not nearly as much as Jessica. She tried to convince Tullus that such an event would be repulsive, her thoughts running the spectrum from feelings of outright disgust to plain Do not go!, but she may as well have poured her wishes down a bottomless pit. Tullus sensed her every thought and feeling, and found them all delicious. Every one served only to reinforce his morbid desire to go and see a hanging.

From Chapter 24, 'The Battle for Toliuk':

"I don't think he made it," Damon said.

Shocking as such a thought might have been only days ago, Jessica sighed in relief. "Wulf? Ravi?" she asked.

Damon turned his eyes to the broken wall on the far side of the farmyard.

"Wulf's stretched out on the ground. Ravi's bent over on his knees. I think he's puking."

"The control could be anywhere!" Jessica groaned.

Dobar wasn't worried yet. "Jake, what does the pen say?"

"It doesn't matter," Jacob replied, his voice jubilant. "I can see it."

Jessica turned in time to see her brother streaking through the doorway. As he raced across the yard, she scanned the ground ahead of him. Sure enough, the control unit lay on the ground perhaps fifty yards away, a black dot that sat like a bull's-eye in the centre of a small sea of sand. Jessica stared after her brother, the hair suddenly rising on the nape of her neck. Something was wrong! Dreadfully wrong! A sense of foreboding flooded her mind.

"Jaaaaake....."

Jacob stopped in mid-stride, as if snapped back by a leash. He whirled to face his sister, standing like a deer caught in a headlight. The final shell of the barrage, a late stray, struck the ground several yards ahead of where he stood. It filled the air with dirt, shrapnel and a deafening roar. Something whined and smacked against the edge of the doorway, missing Jessica's small body by a fraction of an inch. What it was didn't matter. It could have gone clear through her heart for all she cared. For when the dust finally settled, there was no sign of Jacob.