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Spring and the Shadow Man
Plagued by an overactive imagination, Spring wishes she could be different, until, in helping a blind neighbor, she learns that imagination is something to be treasured.
160 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1984
13 people want to read
About the author
Emily Rhoads Johnson
7 books4 followersEmily Rhoads Johnson grew up in Evanston, Illinois, and graduated from The College of Wooster. She taught fifth and sixth grades, then turned to free lance magazine writing while her two children were growing up on a Michigan farm.
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Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
May 21, 2024
Emily Rhoads Johnson was never a big name in children's literature. Her three novels—Spring and the Shadow Man, A House Full of Strangers, and Write Me If You Dare!—were published in 1984, 1992, and 2000 to modest commercial success at best, but how good was she on an artistic level? Her quiet, realistic storytelling is reminiscent of Judy Blume or Pamela Curtis Swallow, and her debut novel makes a decent show of it. Eleven-year-old Spring Weldon's hyperactive imagination gears up when her family moves from Illinois to Willoughby, a Michigan suburb. The dots on a roadmap cause her to panic and the striped wallpaper in her new bedroom reminds her of slithering snakes. "Your old imagination cells must be working overtime," her father remarks as usual, and Spring wonders if she'd be better off with less active ones. She doesn't want to lose her chance to make a new reputation in Willoughby.
In short order Spring meets Natalie Simms, a girl her age who is already a close friend by the end of the first day. Then there's Howard Batz, a plump, surly boy. He's less interested in friendship than in the Leapin' Lizard 500 motorbike his mother promises him if he persuades Claude Lincus, Spring's neighbor, to sell his house so Howard's mother can turn it into a poodle spa. Spring meets Mr. Lincus when she's selling seed packets door to door; Delia Upgard, the live-in housekeeper at the Weldons' new house, gave Spring the packets and suggested she sell them around the neighborhood. Mr. Lincus brusquely dismisses Spring, growling "No solicitors" and slamming the door. She's glad to get away from him, but doesn't like how Howard talks about Mr. Lincus behind his back, saying he'll get the man to sell his home one way or another. Mr. Lincus may be gruff, but he can't be as obnoxious as Howard.
"It's a terrible disease, loneliness is. I've had it, and I know. It makes you do things you'd never do otherwise. It makes you want to show others how much it hurts."
—Mr. Lincus, Spring and the Shadow Man, P. 156
The best part of Spring's bedroom is through a tiny door in her closet. The secret area even has a stained glass window to let in light. This is where Spring keeps Natalie's kittens that she watches over (without Mrs. Weldon's permission) when the Simms family goes on vacation, and an accident befalling one of the kittens is how Spring finds out what Mr. Lincus is really like. She's shocked to learn he's blind, a victim of untreated glaucoma. His sister wants him to move into her house in Ohio, but Mr. Lincus treasures his autonomy and won't let anyone tread on it. Aside from the people at the Prism Paint Company where he worked brainstorming names for shades of paint, almost no one knows about his blindness. Not even Delia, whom he was on the verge of asking to marry him before his vision went dark only several weeks ago. Mr. Lincus is hardly the brute that Spring assumed he was after their first interaction, and it saddens her to see him and Delia not together just because he doesn't want her feeling sorry for him. With Howard and his mother pressuring Mr. Lincus to sell his house, Mr. Lincus having doubts as to whether he's capable of living on his own, and Spring struggling to control her imagination, a happy ending seems assured for no one. Can Spring guide Mr. Lincus to a solution without losing the imaginative spark that makes her special?
"Happiness isn't a state of being...It comes in little bursts, sometimes when you least expect it. The important thing is to be ready for it, or it disappears without your ever knowing it was there at all."
—Delia, Spring and the Shadow Man, PP. 82-83
Friendship develops slowly between Spring and Mr. Lincus. Blindness has altered every aspect of his life and spoiled his most cherished plans; as a result, Mr. Lincus can be bitter, but he's not a bad man. Like Spring, his "imagination cells" work overtime, but what if she would rather think and act the way most people do? "Now hold on, Spring," Mr. Lincus interjects, "before you go throwing away such a precious gift. True, it may stir up scary thoughts now and then, but give it a chance. Discover what else it can do." Having a fanciful mind is a blessing if you can get past the trouble it causes, but what is "fancy"? "Fancy," muses Mr. Lincus, "means seeing beyond what's really there...turning one thing into another...letting ideas grow and change. A person with the gift of fancy has a mind like a magician's hat. He reaches in, and out come rabbits and milkshakes and peacock feathers and anything else he wishes. Maybe—at first—he gets some things he doesn't want, like snakes and dots. But with patience—and practice—surprising and wonderful things come out every time." A creative mind conjures fearful adversaries real and imagined, but is also the soil to grow ideas into an immaculate garden that sustains one's spirit and intellect as long as one lives. Mr. Lincus knows its value more than ever after losing his eyesight, and his example shows Spring that her unique mind is not the curse she believed it to be. Their unlikely friendship has much to teach them both.
Spring and the Shadow Man is tantalizingly close to excellent. If it falls short, that's only because the story isn't as fluid or organized as it could be. Some subplots that feel important dwindle into nonexistence and don't further the narrative in the end. Emily Rhoads Johnson demonstrates the capacity to be a special literary thinker, though, and her characters are worthy of a great novel. I rate Spring and the Shadow Man two and a half stars, and I'll round to three; if you enjoy books that prompt deep thought, this one should get your mind going. I had a good experience with it.
In short order Spring meets Natalie Simms, a girl her age who is already a close friend by the end of the first day. Then there's Howard Batz, a plump, surly boy. He's less interested in friendship than in the Leapin' Lizard 500 motorbike his mother promises him if he persuades Claude Lincus, Spring's neighbor, to sell his house so Howard's mother can turn it into a poodle spa. Spring meets Mr. Lincus when she's selling seed packets door to door; Delia Upgard, the live-in housekeeper at the Weldons' new house, gave Spring the packets and suggested she sell them around the neighborhood. Mr. Lincus brusquely dismisses Spring, growling "No solicitors" and slamming the door. She's glad to get away from him, but doesn't like how Howard talks about Mr. Lincus behind his back, saying he'll get the man to sell his home one way or another. Mr. Lincus may be gruff, but he can't be as obnoxious as Howard.
"It's a terrible disease, loneliness is. I've had it, and I know. It makes you do things you'd never do otherwise. It makes you want to show others how much it hurts."
—Mr. Lincus, Spring and the Shadow Man, P. 156
The best part of Spring's bedroom is through a tiny door in her closet. The secret area even has a stained glass window to let in light. This is where Spring keeps Natalie's kittens that she watches over (without Mrs. Weldon's permission) when the Simms family goes on vacation, and an accident befalling one of the kittens is how Spring finds out what Mr. Lincus is really like. She's shocked to learn he's blind, a victim of untreated glaucoma. His sister wants him to move into her house in Ohio, but Mr. Lincus treasures his autonomy and won't let anyone tread on it. Aside from the people at the Prism Paint Company where he worked brainstorming names for shades of paint, almost no one knows about his blindness. Not even Delia, whom he was on the verge of asking to marry him before his vision went dark only several weeks ago. Mr. Lincus is hardly the brute that Spring assumed he was after their first interaction, and it saddens her to see him and Delia not together just because he doesn't want her feeling sorry for him. With Howard and his mother pressuring Mr. Lincus to sell his house, Mr. Lincus having doubts as to whether he's capable of living on his own, and Spring struggling to control her imagination, a happy ending seems assured for no one. Can Spring guide Mr. Lincus to a solution without losing the imaginative spark that makes her special?
"Happiness isn't a state of being...It comes in little bursts, sometimes when you least expect it. The important thing is to be ready for it, or it disappears without your ever knowing it was there at all."
—Delia, Spring and the Shadow Man, PP. 82-83
Friendship develops slowly between Spring and Mr. Lincus. Blindness has altered every aspect of his life and spoiled his most cherished plans; as a result, Mr. Lincus can be bitter, but he's not a bad man. Like Spring, his "imagination cells" work overtime, but what if she would rather think and act the way most people do? "Now hold on, Spring," Mr. Lincus interjects, "before you go throwing away such a precious gift. True, it may stir up scary thoughts now and then, but give it a chance. Discover what else it can do." Having a fanciful mind is a blessing if you can get past the trouble it causes, but what is "fancy"? "Fancy," muses Mr. Lincus, "means seeing beyond what's really there...turning one thing into another...letting ideas grow and change. A person with the gift of fancy has a mind like a magician's hat. He reaches in, and out come rabbits and milkshakes and peacock feathers and anything else he wishes. Maybe—at first—he gets some things he doesn't want, like snakes and dots. But with patience—and practice—surprising and wonderful things come out every time." A creative mind conjures fearful adversaries real and imagined, but is also the soil to grow ideas into an immaculate garden that sustains one's spirit and intellect as long as one lives. Mr. Lincus knows its value more than ever after losing his eyesight, and his example shows Spring that her unique mind is not the curse she believed it to be. Their unlikely friendship has much to teach them both.
Spring and the Shadow Man is tantalizingly close to excellent. If it falls short, that's only because the story isn't as fluid or organized as it could be. Some subplots that feel important dwindle into nonexistence and don't further the narrative in the end. Emily Rhoads Johnson demonstrates the capacity to be a special literary thinker, though, and her characters are worthy of a great novel. I rate Spring and the Shadow Man two and a half stars, and I'll round to three; if you enjoy books that prompt deep thought, this one should get your mind going. I had a good experience with it.
July 23, 2020
So far, my favorite of Emily's kid books.
She seems to specialize in teen-older person relationships. Maybe I like it because it's wish fulfillment! The love story helps, too.
Also, there are always animals--dogs, cats, etc.
Yeah, this was published years ago. Don't let that stop you--this is a keeper.
She seems to specialize in teen-older person relationships. Maybe I like it because it's wish fulfillment! The love story helps, too.
Also, there are always animals--dogs, cats, etc.
Yeah, this was published years ago. Don't let that stop you--this is a keeper.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews