57 1967: Up a Road Slowly by Irene Hunt (Follett)July, 2013 (192 pages)After her mom dies, Julie, age 7, and her brother are sent to live with a maiden aunt while her much older sister stays with her father. She is heart-broken, but as the book progresses, she gains a kinship with the aunt and a comfortable familiarity with the nearby uncle.She tussles with the challenges and agonies of youth . At one point, as a budding writer, she shares some of her early feelings and her uncle comments that he never realized that she had such depth of feeling as a young child. The book ends with her high school graduation. Political correctness - one of her classmates is "retarded" and is noted as smelling. This classmate is not well treated by the children. Events transpire which cause Julie to feel guilt over her actions, but she also accepts that she probably would do the same thing again. The book would've likely not be appropriate for elementary students. Middle school students might appreciate it.Vocabulary is high - erudition, magnum opus, impeccable, equanimity, prerequisite.The book made me very sad and wistful about the passage of time. However, it was a good book, a well-written book, and I would recommend it." 'Bill is in the Number One Spot, and don't forget it, Julie Trelling. And the baby is in the Number Two Spot.' I hesitated at that point, and then drew the haircloth shirt a little tighter. Father was in the Number Three Spot, one had just as well admit it. But when I thought of Chris preceding me as Number Four, I balked. Chris could share that place, I supposed, but that was all. There was a limit to humility. When I burrowed down between my white sheets that night, I breathed deeply of happiness. I wished that I could tell the old conductor how wise I had grown; I thought of how much more than an almond chocolate bar he had given me." p. 49"I'll say to my sad-faced little Julie: Guilt feelings will do nothing for either you or the Kilpin child. But your compassion as you grow into womanhood may well become immortality for the girl you call 'Aggie.' " p. 67"But Aunt Cordelia didn't seem heartsick. 'When the first day of school comes this September,' she told me, 'I intend to stand quietly in the sunlight and lay my hands on the bark of one of the tallest trees. I'll say to myself, 'Well, good! Now that part of my life is finished.' And after that I may gather an armful of autumn flowers, and I'll move slowly while I do it and breathe deeply of good, clean air that is free of chalk dust. Maybe I'll make peach preserves in the afternoon or reread a few chapters of Pride and Prejudice; I may take a long walk in the woods or call on Helen Trevort or Cora Peters. I may fix a nice dinner for Jonathan and Katy Eltwing. Whatever I do, it will be as I please, and I intend to savor every minute of it.' " p. 92" ' You have come to seem like my own child, and I haven't wanted to think of what it would be like this winter with no girl coming in from school, no young mind to guide ' ' " p. 106"It was cool and quiet and wonderful in my room. I lay in the wide old bed between my two windows, and looked up at the stars which were thick above the trees that night. This was home, this was contentment, a warm and good contentment in spite of the fact that I knew in winter the room would be icy and I'd have to leap downstairs to dress beside one of the big stoves, in spite of the fact that I would not be one of the town-clique and so would probably have few beaux, in spite of the fact that I knew that there would be altercation between Aunt Cordelia and me. It didn't matter. Here on the wall were the bookshelves that my grandfather had made for Aunt Cordelia when she was young; out in the stable there was Peter the Great, getting old, but still showing his blood; there were the country roads and the woods; there was good old Danny down the road and silly little Carlotta." p. 107-8"From my window I watched the full moon - a moon that reminded me of Brett - become shadowed, little by little until there was only a deep blackness in the woods at night. I would sit there wakeful, hour after hour, and wonder if this aching around my heart, this sense of being alone, forlorn and unwanted in a world where there was gayety and love for others of my age, was going to continue for all of my days." p. 146"I had gone to sleep in sorrow and longing; I awoke the next morning - and something had happened. It was a bright summer morning and every leaf on the trees outside seemed to have been polished, glittering as they were in the sunlight. The white curtains at my window moved just a little at the touch of the breeze that drifted inside, and my room somehow became a vivid picture to me as if I had pulled aside some veil of indifference and was suddenly aware of it." p. 147" 'You know, Aunt Cordelia, there will come a time when I'll eat berries like these some morning, fresh, dewy berries like these, and I'll think, 'What's the matter? These are not like the ones I ate with so much pleasure long ago.' And then I'll tell myself, 'Of course not, for where is the sunny kitchen overlooking the woods, and where is the beautiful room upstairs where you awakened that morning, where is the aunt who quoted from one of Shakespeare's sonnets and above all, where is the sixteen-year-old girl who had just experienced a miracle? It will never be the same, Aunt Cordelia; I'll never eat raspberries like these again.' " p. 150-151"That was the way it was that beautiful evening of cold November rain and muddy country roads and crazy windshield wipers. That was themoment of my greatest security and confidence; it was the time when I realized that love makes one a better person, a kinder and a gentler one." p. 161"I nodded, and he reread a paragraph thoughtfully. 'I never knew,' he said after a while. 'I didn't know that children felt that deeply.' " p. 172" 'Young writers get false ideas from indiscreet praise,' he explained." p. 173"We were reminded of the days when we had swept and dusted the schoolhouse for her, but we agreed that times were happier now; let people who have forgotten their childhood say that the early years are the happiest, I thought. For me, it was good to be over that stretch of the road which was beset by half-formed anxieties and resentments." p. 185" 'I've worked so hard getting up to this plateau; now it seems I have to start out on another climb.' 'One never stops climbing, Julie, unless he wants to stop and vegetate. There's always something just ahead.' " p. 189My personal Newbery scale:MeaningtVery quote-worthyRead-aloudtNot right for an elementary read-aloud, too long and deepAgestOlderLengthtMediumMetThe book made me very sad and wistful about the passage of time. However, it was a good book, a well-written book, and I would recommend it.
If you are looking for a plot-driven book, Up A Road Slowly by Irene Hunt is not the book for you. This quiet novel is about Julie's growth, her changing relationship with her relations, and her adolescent romances. This is a lot of story to pack into a book of less than two hundred pages! For this reason, I once thought the book tedious but now love most everything about it. I'm glad that it survived the cull of my books when I moved out on my own as an adult.The first chapter doesn't sell me on the book. The transitions between scenes aren't always clear, leaving me sometimes confused about what has transpired. The adult tone also feels awkward, uneasily moving between a child's perspective and an adult's memories. Moreover, I spend too much time wondering about Julie's age, where her family lives, and even where the story of her life happens. The latter may not really be the fault of Irene Hunt. The life she described may be accurate to 1966, the year the book was published. If it's autobiographical, it could depict the decades the years in which Irene Hunt grew up. My confusion rather may suggest that parts of the book have dated.Normally too, I dislike "coming-of-age" novels. They often amount to little more than summaries of a character's life at certain ages. My husband who read Up A Road Slowly as part of our family's book discussion too even commented on how the book started out like a summary. Relying on memory of earlier reads, I said I had kept the book because the main character wanted to become a writer. This revelation doesn't actually occur until the end. One can see the signs throughout however: Julia loves words, to read, memorize, and write poetry, to read hefty adult classics, and to dabble in writing stories.Up A Road Slowly ultimately succeeds largely for the same reason that Anne of Green Gables does. The authors of both "coming-of-age" books pick only pivotal scenes to detail. Therein, we learn to love the main characters and enjoy reading about their journey to maturity. Interestingly, there are other similarities between the books: In Up A Road Slowly, Julie moves in with Aunt Cordelia and Uncle Haskell--a sister and brother who live together but have never married. In Anne of Green Gables, Anne moves in with Marilla and Matthew--another sister and brother set who have never married. Marilla is old-fashioned and stifling to Anne; so is Aunt Cordelia. Both adult women had a beau whose departure they regret. Although Julie's Uncle Haskell is nowhere near the saint that Anne's Matthew is, both men offer lifelong advice and encouragement.Ultimately, Up a Road Slowly is about much more than Julia's literary aspirations, which is why now I love most everything about it. This read around, my favorites were those that resonated with my own experiences. For example, Julia grew up with a close bond to her sister Laura but struggled with losing that position when Laura married. Similarly, my younger sister and I struggled to remain close after I moved nearer to my boyfriend. Julia grew up with her aunt and struggled as an adult about how long to continue living at home. Similarly, because my dad widowed early in my early life, I grew up with a tight connection and didn't really feel free to leave until he remarried.My dad picked this book largely because he felt my sister and I would relate to Julia's writing experiences. What does Up A Road Slowly offer to those with different interests? Most every chapter chronicles an event that helped Julia mature. The scenes are heartfelt, such as the ones about a classmate whom Julia despised because she talked, acted, and smelled funny. They are also replete with ideas about how the choices we make effect the people we become. Up A Road Slowly is an absorbing and beautiful book.
Do You like book Up A Road Slowly (2005)?
Newbery Award - 1967 I haven't read Up a Road Slowly in years, but I evidently read it enough times in my younger years to have a vague sense of knowing ahead of time what would happen in the story.Julie's story focuses on the poignant - the bittersweet - moments in her life. I had tears in my eyes at the conclusion of many a chapter.I love the writing and the rich characterizations - nobody one-dimensional here. Uncle Haskell almost - maybe more than almost - steals the story. What a complex man - a tortured soul but not unhappy with being one.Overall, a quick read as an adult and a valuable one for an adolescent.
—Neyly
Julie would remember her happy days at Aunt Cordelia's forever. Running through the spacious rooms, singing on rainy nights in front of the fireplace. There were rides with Peter the Great and the races with Danny Trevort. There were the precious moments alone in her room at night, gazing at the sea of stars. But there were sad times too- her mother's death, the painful jealousy Julie felt when her beautiful sister married, the tragic death of a schoolmate who she didn't quite like at first, the bitter disappointment of her first love with a handsome young man in high school, and the death of her uncle. Julie was having a hard time believing life was fair. But Julie would have to be fair to herself before she could even think about new beginnings. This book is a book of distinction. A very good book you will enjoy.
—Audrey *Ebook and Romance Lover*
This is such an honest book and so full of love from start to finish — although, as with any girl feeling growing pains associated with coming of age, the love given to the main character Julie sometimes feels unfair or confusing. I fell into this story wholeheartedly. It reminded me of Jane Eyre in its sad start as well as in the way the main character discovers her strength. Julie is a reliable narrator, telling the story of her childhood with the wisdom of an adult while still being true to the raw emotions of a child. The language of it is beautiful and heart-wrenching. For example, on the third page of the story as seven-year-old Julie must face the death of her mother: "I sat for a long time in Mother's little sewing room that afternoon, and had watched the wind whip great wrinkles in the white sheets that hung on the line. The wrinkles had come to look strange to me as I watched them; they grinned at me, malicious, hateful grins." That got me right in the heart. Haven't we all felt the world is against us in a way that even the sheets drying on the line could hate us too? The setting of the story was not entirely clear. It has a timeless feel at first — it could have been set in the 1800s, that is until the mention of cars, and it took me a while to accept that it takes place in the mid 1900s. (Obviously I didn't read the edition with the girl in the pink shirt on the cover.) I highly recommend this one for fans of the Brontës.
—Erin
