The Seventh Raven

Starred review from January 25, 2021
Rich with evocative language (to “bake the coarse bread/ And spin the fine thread/ And weave the rough cloth”), this subtle verse novel retells the Grimms’ “The Seven Ravens” through a lens of perseverance and change. Though all his parents want is a daughter, “girlish” misfit Robyn lives a stifling life as the youngest of a temperamental woodsman’s seven competitive sons. When their sister, April, is born “dying and thin,” their father angrily curses all seven to become ravens; Robyn discovers a love of flight while the others experience only torment. Fifteen years later, upon discovering her brothers’ smocks, April sets out with a carved harp to find them and loose the spell, a quest that will require a horrible sacrifice from the book’s femme characters. Elliott (Voices) makes the propulsive mix of formal and concrete poetry and blank verse sparklingly accessible for teen readers, with repetitions and Cai’s (Elatsoe) inky illustrations weaving multiple narrators into a beautifully unified volume. Fans of lyrical retellings such as Malinda Lo’s Ash will find this bittersweet quest a warm welcome into myth and verse. Final art not seen by PW. Ages 14–up. Author’s agent: Kelly Sonnack, Andrea Brown Literary. (Mar.)■

July 1, 2021
Elliott's (Bull, rev. 3/17; Voices, rev. 3/19) poetry is by nature taut with intensity, an effect he achieves in part through his skill with verbal rhythms, rhyme, and formal poetic structures; in part through his gimlet-eyed focus on human passion, expressed through multiple voices. He brings all this to his verse-novel interpretation of the Grimms' tale "The Seven Ravens," with poetry so propulsive that it seems to cry out for oral performance. Changed into ravens in a fit of their father's rage, seven brothers are transformed back into humans through their only sister's stalwart determination. In Elliott's retelling, one boy, Robyn, retains his wings (a variant of the Grimms' "The Six Swans"), at home "between humanity / and bird." Instead of feeling bad for being "sensitive" and "girlish and slender," unlike his boisterous brothers (humorously, all named Jack), Robyn now embraces his hybrid self -- just one example of how this work is rich for discussion. Thus, once again, Elliott delves into the nuanced force of human passion (though he gives ravens' interesting propensities shorter shrift). Interspersed ink-and-brush illustrations accentuate the dark feathers and flight of the tale's magic.

(Copyright 2021 by The Horn Book, Incorporated, Boston. All rights reserved.)

July 1, 2021
Elliott's (Bull, rev. 3/17; Voices, rev. 3/19) poetry is by nature taut with intensity, an effect he achieves in part through his skill with verbal rhythms, rhyme, and formal poetic structures; in part through his gimlet-eyed focus on human passion, expressed through multiple voices. He brings all this to his verse-novel interpretation of the Grimms' tale "The Seven Ravens," with poetry so propulsive that it seems to cry out for oral performance. Changed into ravens in a fit of their father's rage, seven brothers are transformed back into humans through their only sister's stalwart determination. In Elliott's retelling, one boy, Robyn, retains his wings (a variant of the Grimms' "The Six Swans"), at home "between humanity / and bird." Instead of feeling bad for being "sensitive" and "girlish and slender," unlike his boisterous brothers (humorously, all named Jack), Robyn now embraces his hybrid self -- just one example of how this work is rich for discussion. Thus, once again, Elliott delves into the nuanced force of human passion (though he gives ravens' interesting propensities shorter shrift). Interspersed ink-and-brush illustrations accentuate the dark feathers and flight of the tale's magic. Deirdre F. Baker

(Copyright 2021 by The Horn Book, Incorporated, Boston. All rights reserved.)

Starred review from February 1, 2021

Gr 6 Up-In an isolated, idyllic forest, Jack and his wife, Jane, live and work in a small cottage. They have seven sons, six of whom are strapping young lads with the same name as their father. The seventh son, Robyn, however, is too quiet, creative, and different to fit in with the family. Each night, Jack and his wife pray for a daughter, and one fateful day, their prayers are answered. Tragically, the girl is born gray and still, and in desperate pain and anger over his loss, Jack curses his sons, calling them no better than carrion birds-ravens. In a burst of magic, the boys transform on the spot, and Jack's daughter is brought to immediate, pink health. Although the six young Jacks are miserable in their new avian lives, Robyn finds freedom in flight. As their sister, April, grows up under a pall of smothered tragedy, she soon resolves to find her brothers and bring them home, but will Robyn ever wish to return? Elliott brings emotional depth and poignant verse to the Grimms' "The Seven Ravens." This beautifully evocative tale weaves different poetry forms to great effect, achieving short, intense bursts of emotion and deep, wandering musings on identity and fate. Cai's haunting illustrations add context and visual interest to many of the poems. Although the setting and events may belong in a fairy-tale, the core emotions of this work draw straight from reality. VERDICT A stirring selection for any fantasy collection, this book will appeal to fans of Emily Carroll and Phillip Pullman.-Catherine Cote, John Champe H.S., Aldie, VA

Copyright 2021 School Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

February 15, 2021
A teenager sets out to rescue her cursed older brothers in this verse retelling of the Grimms' "The Seven Ravens." Upon learning at last that her brothers--all named Jack except the youngest, Robyn--had been transformed into birds at her birth by her father in a fit of pique, 15-year-old April resolutely undertakes what becomes a weary search for them. In the most notable wrinkle that Elliott adds to the original, Robyn, who had always felt like the odd one out anyway, quite enjoys being a raven, and when April climactically makes an extreme sacrifice to free her brothers, he is left separate from the others once again. Occasional white-on-black pages and Cai's infrequent but brooding images of feathery swirls and distant turned-away silhouettes add further atmosphere to the sometimes-incantatory poetry. Following his practice in Bull (2017) and Voices (2019), the author employs multiple narrators, experiments with different verse models or set forms for each poem, and closes with analytical notes on the latter. April's heroic sacrifices in the name of family ties are admirable, and the fact that they turn out not to be entirely appreciated offers chewy food for thought. A skillful use of verse; moral conundrums and strange plot twists offer even stronger draws. (Verse fantasy. 12-15)

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