Looking for the Klondike stone

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly

To fully appreciate novelist Arthur's ( Binding Spell ) memoir of the five childhood summers she spent at a Vermont camp in the early 1960s, readers must slow themselves to a sun-drenched amble. This may be no page-turner, but the author's hypnotic voice proves compelling. The first section is devoted to a lovingly meticulous description of Camp Wynakee's grounds and its people, the directors and staff members, all of whom attain a nearly mythical stature. Next comes a full account of the routines of a typical camp day, punctuated by asides concerning the various levels of meaning inherent in such camp activities as Indian Lore and the swimming lessons conducted in an icy pond. The narrative gains momentum and intensity in its last four sections, in which Arthur chronicles specific events including hayrides, hikes, celebrations and the Council Fires held by the camp's honor society. The chapter recounting one of the rare intrusions of the outside world (a visit from the author's mother and stepfather on the day of an eclipse) is particularly affecting, perhaps because it is one of the few moments when even a hint of unhappiness surfaces in the otherwise starry-eyed narrative. Filled with lush sensory details, this record does justice to the experience Arthur decribes as ``unquestionably the most satisfying thing I've ever shared with other people.'' (June)

Library Journal

As children, we live with an emotional intensity, gathering memories of a magical time or place that sustain us in our adulthood. For writer Arthur ( Island Sojurn , LJ 6/1/80; Binding Spell, LJ 9/15/88), the five summers she spent at Camp Wynakee in Vermont's Green Mountains during the early 1960s were so enchanted that, between visits, she would indulge in ``memory feasts . . . remembering everything there was to remember about Wynakee.'' In this lovely memoir, Arthur relives a typical summer, taking us from that first day when, accompanied by her stepfather and a trunk full of new clothes, she would choose the road to take to camp to the bitter final moment when, sobbing, she was always the last camper to leave. Arthur proudly gives us a tour of Wynakee, pointing out favorite spots; she paints fond portraits of the camp owners, Uncle Kuhrt, Aunt Helen, and their two sons. She lovingly describes the camp's ``soothingly predictable'' daily routines as well as the special events (hiking to the Bat Cave, playing Capture the Flag) that made camp life joyous and exciting. Best of all was Klondike Day, when Wynakee was transformed into a Wild West town and Arthur would search for the elusive Klondike Stone, a large hidden rock painted gold. Beautifully written and a joy to read, this is highly recommended.-- Wilda Williams, ``Library Journal''

Donna Seaman

Arthur wins your heart instantly in this "memory feast" about her epiphanic summer-camp experiences. An earthly paradise cradled in the strong arms of Vermont's soulful Green Mountains, Camp Wynakee was devoted to nurturing the gorgeous clarity and spontaneity of children. In prose of unfailing dazzle and profound specificity, Arthur lovingly describes every aspect of this enchanted place, from its thrillingly cold and scummy pond, cozy library, woodworking shop, and redolent horse barn to its wise and wonderful directors and counselors. Arthur the child adored the fact that boys and girls were equals at Wynakee and relished each scent, sound, and scene with every fiber of her young, questing self. Arthur the adult marvels at the life-long resonance of Wynakee endeavors, from the everyday marvels of swimming and hiking to the delirious joy of "Klondike Day," on which the entire compound was transformed into a Wild West town and every camper became a zealous prospector. Arthur's pleasure in and gratitude for these seminal times are rendered vividly tangible, as electrifying as touch, warming as sun, and refining as poetry. An inspired and magical storyteller, she makes her unforgettable memories somehow ours.

Kirkus Reviews

A loving celebration of those special refuges of childhood that are forever the measure of happiness for those fortunate enough to have known them. The intensity of the joy that novelist Arthur (Binding Spell, 1988, etc.) found in the five perfect seasons that she spent in the early 60's at Camp Wynakee in Vermont's Green Mountains was as much a reflection of the experience itself as a contrast to the rest of her life—about which she's rather reticent. Like a starving prisoner, she spent the months between camp-visits living on carefully apportioned memories of the summer before: "I wanted to savor the summer in small mouthfuls so that it would last the whole year, and the month of September might see me eating just the first week, just the first day even. I was amazed at how much of the camp I could take with me if I slowed down in this manner." Arthur describes a summer at camp: the proper outfit she brought, so that the whole camp became her "single outer garment"; the camp owners, who tried to help their charges "discover the qualities we could be proud of"; the daily routine; special events like hikes to Bat Cave, the Fourth of July parade, and, best of all, Klondike Day. On this day, every camper took part in a search for the Klondike Stone, a large, hidden rock painted gold: The search was as much a holy quest as an exciting break in routine, a quest that epitomized all Arthur felt for the place and all that she'd learned there. Even if "as the years have passed, and I have again brought my bag home empty, it seems I'm always getting nearer. In a way the more time I spend looking, the better I will like it." Like the author's camp memories, better savored thanwolfed down: a splendid evocation of wisdom acquired in a demi-Eden by a writer of great grace and sensitivity.