A family mystery, dealing with the enigmas of one girl's past, set before the ominous backdrop of the romantic high seas...What could be more enticing than that?
The Wanderer really isn't as much a complex mystery as I had thought from reading the book's description, however. What lies at stake in these three hundred five pages is less about unraveling a mystery after following numerous leads to nowhere and then finally hitting upon the hot trail that begins an exciting endgame, and more a matter of listening to the outpouring of a girl's fearful, fragile mind, and the facts about the permanent exit of her parents that she wants to keep under wraps, hiding them even from herself. Sophie is a strong, independent, wonderfully abled person who has many skills that set her apart from the rest of her adopted family, but even one so sure has to have a central weak spot.
Set in modern times, thirteen-year-old Sophie embarks with her three uncles and two cousins on a seafaring voyage across the Atlantic, from the United States all the way to the magnificent coasts of the UK. Their mode of transport, however, is no luxury cruise liner. Sophie and her extended family are making the trip in a traditional ship powered primarily by the wind in its sails, which can carry only a few necessary assorted acknowledgements of the technological age in which it rides. Just as in the centuries of sea travel's prime, dangers from element and creature loom in the waters through which the ship glides, dangers that seem so insignificant while land is in view, but have the lurking potential to grow and grow and grow once the sight of firm soil has become a distant memory.
With only six people to run a ship, Sophie knows that all of the crew members must be capable of saving the lives of the others, while also each feeling sure that everyone else aboard is equally capable. Sophie measures up well in this regard; her physical skills and maritime knowledge make her easily an invaluable part of the crew, capable of some things that none of the others could ever match. It's Sophie's thirteen-year-old cousin, Cody (who acts as the co-first-person narrator for this novel), who doesn't necessarily seem able to carry his end of the deal. Tensions mount between Cody and his father, Cody and his uncles, and Cody and his older cousin, Brian, as the voyage begins and their ship, christened The Wanderer, makes its way through the initially calm waters.
The sea can be a terrifying place, but there's more to Sophie's on again/off again aquatic fear than all of the crew realizes. While learning to adjust to life lived on the rolling glass of the ocean, Cody wonders why it is that Sophie wants so badly to see her adopted grandfather, Bompie, as he nears the end of his life in England. Sophie has never met Bompie before, having been adopted into the family only three years back. How does she know so many stories about the old man, stories with which her uncles aren't even familiar in more than little bits and pieces? How does the death of Sophie's parents fit into the puzzle, a tragic loss that Cody has been told very little about?
Friction is common in the early days of the trip, but the expedition is not to be a short or easy one. As the ship heads toward Ireland, still with nothing but water stretching to the limits of every horizon, a continuous blast of horrific storms begins to rock the boat, and suddenly the five passengers will need to muster every bit of their guile and will just to survive. It is under these circumstances that they all finally work together, as can only be brought about by such extreme, prolonged hardship, braving the awesome storm side-by-side in a waterlogged world of seemingly unending discomfort, pain and nausea.
When it's time, when we have come to know all of the characters well enough to be prepared for it, we find out the multi-tiered secrets of Sophie's past. There's nothing earth-shattering to be learned, but in some ways I guess that the truth is made up from parts that an attentive reader could have pieced together all along on the journey, strung together like pearls on a necklace; and when that's finished, Sophie is still Sophie and Cody is still Cody, courageous young sailors who have proved that their own personal toughness lies in more than simple seafaring knowhow and execution.
The Wanderer is told by way of alternating journal entries, a format successfully utilized by author Sharon Creech on a number of occasions. What really raises the story up to its admirably high level of success are the awe-inspiring scenes of when the ship first enters the storm's heart of darkness, when the fear of mammoth, totally overwhelming waves shifts from a mild apprehension to an absolute certainty, when cataclysm grinds its way unflinchingly straight into the boat and shows us what it's really like to be trapped in the power of nature's wrath. The descriptive prose throughout this time in the story is jaw-dropping in its intensity, better than I could have realistically expected; I could practically feel the aching cold and the merciless weariness, and even the eventual hopelessness of Sophie and her crew, almost as if I had actually joined them out there on the ocean. It is powerful, powerful stuff, and probably the reason why the book was awarded a Newbery Honor citation for 2001.
I would say that The Wanderer measures up well to the other lauded volumes authored by Sharon Creech over the years. The story is expansive and well-written, and the characters are treated even-handedly and with much individual care. I would probably give the full three stars to this book.