People of the Masks (The First North Americans, Book 10)

by Kathleen O'Neal Gear, W. Michael Gear | Literature & Fiction |
ISBN: 0812515617 Global Overview for this book
Registered by wingGoryDetailswing of Nashua, New Hampshire USA on 2/9/2018
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This book is in the wild! This Book is Currently in the Wild!
2 journalers for this copy...
Journal Entry 1 by wingGoryDetailswing from Nashua, New Hampshire USA on Friday, February 9, 2018
I got this slightly-battered paperback from the ongoing charity-sale shelves at a local Hannaford's. It's from a historical-fiction series following different Native American tribes, long before the first arrival of Europeans; this book's set roughly in 1000 A. D., in the area around the Great Lakes. It focuses on a particular Iroquois tribe and their friends and foes, with emphasis on a long-prophesied "child of power" who's ostensibly the son of a forest spirit. Tribes go to war to possess this powerful child - and then the boy, along with one young friend, escapes across the winter forest... Lots of detail about daily life, tribal mores, spiritual beliefs, and individual relationships.

Journal Entry 2 by wingGoryDetailswing at Nashua, New Hampshire USA on Monday, March 12, 2018

Released 4 yrs ago (3/12/2018 UTC) at Nashua, New Hampshire USA


I'm adding this to the Indigenous Peoples bookbox. Hope someone enjoys it!

Journal Entry 3 by AlterEgoZoe at Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania USA on Friday, June 22, 2018
This came back home in the Indigenous Peoples Bookbox.

Released 4 mos ago (1/11/2022 UTC) at LFL #89043 (outside Salvation Army Hall) in East Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania USA


When he looked up again Tas had gone. Rising to join the others, he caught sight of something small and abandoned on the floor. "Tas you forgot your pipe." He picked it up and then saw words carved into the wood he had not seen before. Find the music, find the magic.
"Did you carve this?"
Tas did not turn. "Yes," he said, reluctantly. "I have to leave it."
"But, Tas, why?"
Tas squared his shoulders as though firming some resolve. But still he did not turn. "Because the shepherd said that it could only be used once. Thats why I can't get the pipe to play that song-or any song. I've used the magic." He took a deep breath and went on. "And he said that once I found the magic I had the pass the pipe on." he paused and then he did turn, a scamp's humor in his long brown eyes. "It's going to be a long winter. I'm going to leave it here for someone else to find."
"Snowsong" by Nancy Varian Berberick

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