K-Gr 3—Full of suspense and magic, this captivating adventure is set amid the harsh landscape of Ireland's west coast. Resourceful Finn and his sister, Cara, live with their parents, who make a living by fishing and farming-"The family was poor yet grateful to survive on what they had." The spare text captures the lilt of country folk, as well as their superstitions. Ungerer creates an eerie atmosphere by using a palette of predominantly somber hues of gray, black, brown, and blue. The art is dramatic and powerful; the cover spread of fog-enshrouded children glows with breathtaking beauty. After their father builds a small curragh for his son and daughter, he warms them never to go to Fog Island, a "doomed and evil place," but one day they find themselves lost in a fog and currents carry them to there. Once they land, the curious youngsters climb a set of slippery stairs with creepy faces peering at them and skeletonlike vines intertwined among the rocks. But the person who answers the door at the top is the rather lonely and congenial Fog Man. He shows them how he makes fog, serves them a strange fish stew, and tucks them into bed. When they awake the next morning, they find themselves lying among ruins with no one in sight, but with steaming bowls of stew by their side. Literal-minded readers might wonder why the Fog Man's lair appears to be underwater, when the children walked so far up the steps to find it. And the subsequent storm and rescue at sea seems tacked on. Nevertheless, this intriguing story will ignite discussion on the central question-was the Fog Man real, or a dream?—
Caroline Ward, The Ferguson Library, Stamford, CTAn elegant jacket -- an island jutting up from a low-lying mist, a small boat reflected in a placid sea, minimal use of type -- sets the tone superbly for a simple tale (dedicated to Ungerer's adopted home of Ireland) enriched with magic and mystery. Finn and Cara, rowing the little curragh their fisherman father made them, are suddenly lost in a fog. Washed up on the island they've been warned to avoid -- looming "like a jagged black tooth" in the bay -- they meet Fog Man, who shows them how he makes fog by pouring sea water into the "glowing, bubbling, liquid red mass" of magma in the earth's core. After entertaining them with food and song, he shows them to bed. In the morning, mysteriously, they awake in an ancient and empty ruin. The fog has lifted; the curragh is there to carry them home. The greatest glory of this well-told story is its illustrations, especially Ungerer's masterful depiction of sea and sky -- layers of luminous mist, a shining sea with a gold-rimmed horizon -- dramatically set off by black rocks, Irish green, the sober browns of plain living, and touches of the magma's fiery red -- a cap, a candle, a pair of suspenders. The characterizations are just right, too: Fog Man, for example, is a benevolent, legendary sort of figure clothed in his own hair. A rare treat. joanna rudge long
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