Safekeeping: A Novel of Tomorrow

by Karen Hesse Narrated by Jenna Lamia

Overview

Radley's parents had warned her that all hell would break loose if the American People's Party took power. And now, with the president assassinated and the government cracking down on citizens, the news is filled with images of vigilante groups, frenzied looting, and police raids. It seems as if all hell has broken loose.

Coming back from volunteering abroad, Radley just wants to get home to Vermont, and the comfort and safety of her parents. Travel restrictions and delays are worse than ever, and by the time Radley's plane lands in New Hampshire, she's been traveling for over twenty-four hours. Exhausted, she heads outside to find her parents-who always come, day or night, no matter when or where she lands-aren't there.

Her cell phone is dead, her credit cards are worthless, and she doesn't have the proper travel papers to cross state lines. Out of money and options, Radley starts walking. . . .

This is a vision of a future America that only Karen Hesse could write: real, gripping, and deeply personal.

Editorial Reviews

NOVEMBER 2012 - AudioFile

By turns tender and terrified, Jenna Lamia's voice brings tight focus to this first-person account of 17-year-old Radley's efforts to find her way home after political upheaval rocks the U.S. Hesse, a Newbery Medal winner, once again spotlights the poetry inherent in everyday people and ordinary things. Lamia holds on to listeners' sympathy for the dumpster-diving heroine who is so fearful that she never musters the courage to ask what’s going on as she focuses on day-to-day survival. As Radley picks up companions on her eventual trek to Canada, including a girl and her dog, a helpful Quebec farm woman, a couple of comic chickens, and an African exchange student, Lamia renders each with care. The print version of this book comes with 50 photographs taken by Hesse to accompany the text. Radley's descriptions of them come to such vivid life in the narration that the printed photos are never missed in audio. M.M.C. Winner of AudioFile Earphones Award © AudioFile 2012, Portland, Maine

Publishers Weekly - Audio

Seventeen-year-old Radley is out of the country when the American People’s Party rises and the United States explodes into chaos with government crackdowns, riots, and vigilante posses. She immediately returns home to Vermont, only to find her parents missing and the police pursuing her. Radley heads north for Canada where she hopes to find refuge, learning about survival and friendship along the way. Narrator Jenna Lamia delivers an entertaining, top-notch performance; her reading of this first-person tale is crisp and well paced, and she proves completely convincing playing a maturing teenage girl, lending Radley a youthful voice that is soothing and earnest. Because of the quality narration, the audiobook is compelling throughout. Ages 12–up. A Feiwel and Friends hardcover. (Sept.)

Publishers Weekly

Hesse (Brooklyn Bridge) beautifully captures the changing landscape of a journey, the wonder of discovery, and a fight to survive in a near-future novel set in the aftermath of a presidential assassination. A group of rebels called the American People’s Party has taken control, and prisons are overcrowded with those they’ve arrested. Radley, an American teenager returning home from doing volunteer work in Haiti, finds her parents gone and her Vermont home abandoned. Not knowing whom to trust or where she’ll be safe, she sets out on foot to Canada, befriending a reticent girl along the way. The two form a tentative friendship and manage to cross into Canada, where they begin a new, primitive life, relying on their wits and small acts of kindness from strangers. The first-person narrative (reflected a shade too obtrusively in Hesse’s 50 b&w photographs) intimately depicts Radley’s loneliness, her longing to regain what she’s taken for granted, and her delight in rediscovering simple pleasures, like eating a hot meal. Hesse’s story is a reminder of how compassion emerges during even the worst of times. Ages 14–up. (Sept.)

From the Publisher

The realistic treatment of the experiences of ordinary people in suddenly harsh circumstances makes for an absorbing character study, and the tale is suffused with an understated sadness and a vivid sense of place.” —BCCB

“Hesse offers some of her best in lavish descriptions of nature and mood…” —Kirkus

“Hesse (Brooklyn Bridge) beautifully captures the changing landscape of a journey…” —Publishers Weekly

“A masterfully written powerhouse of a book.” —School Library Journal, starred

“Mature high school students will especially appreciate this book, perhaps as they embark on the next step in their journey of life.” —VOYA

School Library Journal - Audio

Gr 6–9—When Radley Parker-Hughes, 17, learns of the recent upheaval in the United States, she leaves the Haitian orphanage where she's been volunteering and rushes home to a country she barely recognizes. The American People's Party has taken over: the president has been assassinated and vigilante violence has caused strict enforcement of curfews and restrictions on travel across state lines. Without money or a cell phone and completely unprepared to handle this new world, Radley feels her only hope of finding her parents—and safety—is to make the dangerous and forbidden journey to Canada. She forms a tentative alliance with Celia, a pregnant teen runaway, and Celia's dog, Jerry Lee. The girls take refuge in an abandoned schoolhouse across the border and construct a new life there. Although each has her reasons for discretion, Radley and Celia gradually learn to trust and depend on each other. Karen Hesse's novel (Feiwel & Friends, 2012) is a beautifully written tale of survival and friendship with impeccable character development. Jenna Lamia provides expert narration. Although this title is marketed as dystopian fiction, the defining characteristics typical to the genre never fully materialize. Radley and Celia escape threats far too easily, the turmoil described in the beginning only vaguely carries over throughout the remainder of the story, and the ending wraps up too neatly. Those expecting a lot of action will be bored. Still, this story will be enjoyed by younger audiences not quite ready for the genre's darker tales. Be sure to check out the PDF of Hesse's haunting photos. Purchase to supplement the print version.—Alissa Bach, Oxford Public Library, MI

School Library Journal

Gr 7 Up—Radley Parker-Hughes has been volunteering in an orphanage in Haiti after the recent earthquake, but she returns home to a country in the grip of an even more chaotic situation. The American Political Party has assumed power, the president has been assassinated, and martial law prevails. Soldiers with guns at the airport, travel paper requirements-is this really the New Hampshire she left just a few months ago? And where are her parents, who are usually so prompt picking her up at the airport? Radley decides to get home any way she can, even though she will have to cross states lines, strictly forbidden by the new government. When she arrives, her parents are nowhere to be found, but the police are. She decides to leave, hiding in the woods at night, making her way to Canada, assuming that's where her parents went. One day she encounters an obviously ill young woman who is also trying to escape. The two form an uneasy alliance and, along with Celia's dog, Jerry Lee, they slip across the border. An abandoned shack becomes home, and through the kindness of strangers, they survive and become close. Once the chaos in the U.S. subsides, Radley makes her way back home, only to find that things will never be the same. A journey back to Canada can't soothe her pain, but a return to Haiti does. And so her story comes full circle. The prose is exquisite, almost poetic. The simple beauty of the narrative and lovely black-and-white photographs actually intensify the sense of confusion and disorder, giving readers a chilling feeling of reality. They see, through the use of flashbacks interspersed in the story line, how Radley grows from a confused, scared teen into a confident young woman, able to handle her own life. A masterfully written powerhouse of a book.—Diana Pierce, Leander High School, TX

NOVEMBER 2012 - AudioFile

By turns tender and terrified, Jenna Lamia's voice brings tight focus to this first-person account of 17-year-old Radley's efforts to find her way home after political upheaval rocks the U.S. Hesse, a Newbery Medal winner, once again spotlights the poetry inherent in everyday people and ordinary things. Lamia holds on to listeners' sympathy for the dumpster-diving heroine who is so fearful that she never musters the courage to ask what’s going on as she focuses on day-to-day survival. As Radley picks up companions on her eventual trek to Canada, including a girl and her dog, a helpful Quebec farm woman, a couple of comic chickens, and an African exchange student, Lamia renders each with care. The print version of this book comes with 50 photographs taken by Hesse to accompany the text. Radley's descriptions of them come to such vivid life in the narration that the printed photos are never missed in audio. M.M.C. Winner of AudioFile Earphones Award © AudioFile 2012, Portland, Maine

Kirkus Reviews

Billed as "a novel of tomorrow," this account of a privileged teenager who returns from a goodwill trip in Haiti to a changed America disappoints. In the aftermath of a presidential assassination, the American People's Party has taken over the government, enforcing strict new security measures. Without food or cash and unable to reach her parents, Radley finally arrives in Brattleboro, Vt., to find her home empty. Holding out hope that she'll rejoin her parents, Radley heads off to Quebec on foot. She meets a taciturn girl named Celia, and the two cross the border together. They settle into an abandoned schoolhouse, relying on a benefactor Radley dubs "Our Lady of the Barn." The sinister political backdrop gets short shrift, as the storyline plays out like a tone poem, with the bulk of the novel built around the author's photographs of the countryside. Implausibilities interrupt the placid pacing of the prose: Radley's methodical search of the house before getting food from the pantry, despite days of starvation; her utter reluctance to communicate with others out of paranoia that she'll be arrested; restaurant Dumpsters full of food though no one seems to be about. Hesse offers some of her best in lavish descriptions of nature and mood, all overlaid with a social message, but this might be of more interest to adults than to teens. (Speculative fiction. 14 & up)

Product Details

BN ID:	2940172125782
Publisher:	Macmillan Audio
Publication date:	09/18/2012
Edition description:	Unabridged
Age Range:	10 - 13 Years

Read an Excerpt

part one

 

 

I stare out the small window over a vast field of clouds.

New travel restrictions ban even backpacks from the cabin of the plane.

I haven’t brought much out of Haiti anyway. The orphans at Paradis des Enfants need my sandals, my toothpaste, my T-shirts more than I need them.

Besides, Mom will buy new stuff for me when I get home.

I can’t believe half of what I’ve heard in Haiti about what’s happening in the U.S. But if even half of that is true …

My heart raps at my ribs like a trapped thing.

I remember my parents warning that all hell would break loose once the American People’s Party took power.

And now it seems as if all hell has broken loose.

The plane is rerouted in flight with no explanation. To Philadelphia. When we touch down in Philly military personnel direct us through customs. There are three separate officers at three discrete stations. Each station has its own arsenal of weaponry. Each its own computerized lists.

At the second checkpoint, soldiers single out a dread-locked man three people ahead of me in line and strong-arm him away. He had been sitting across the aisle from me on the flight from Haiti. I watch, stunned, as the man is led off, arrested on suspicion of … of what?

My head aches by the time my turn comes at the last station. The officer carefully studies my passport, shines a small light on it, fixes a hard stare on my face. He checks my name against his master list, then opens my passport again. “Radley Parker-Hughes,” he says. There’s something about my name he doesn’t like. I’m having trouble breathing. The room spins around me.

Finally, he makes a decision. He lets go of whatever it is that’s bothering him and sends me through.

It’s taken hours to clear customs. Racing across the terminal, I fear I’ll miss my reassigned flight. But at the designated gate I discover the plane to Manchester, New Hamphsire has been delayed indefinitely. The attendant at the desk promises to make an announcement the moment she gets more information.

I close my eyes. As best I can I block out the news reports playing on the overhead monitors. I can only watch the same chaotic scenes so many times without going out of my mind.

With no cash in my pocket and my charge card in my checked backpack, I try to sleep. What other way is there to eat up the endless hours of waiting?

Except for a plastic cup of complimentary orange juice on the flight from Haiti, I haven’t eaten since early this morning when Monsieur Bellamy put a piece of his wife’s cake into my hands. “As soon as I get a line through, I will send a message to your parents, letting them know you are on your way,” Monsieur Bellamy reassured me.

Now, nearly ten hours later, I’m still nowhere near home and they’ve just announced that our plane will be delayed at least another few hours.

Although my stomach has definitely grown smaller on one meal a day at the orphanage, there’s a gnawing emptiness inside me.

I surrender to the overwhelming need to hear the sound of my mother’s voice. But no matter how much I search I can’t find a phone booth anywhere. Finally, I ask an attendant at the USAir desk.

“All the pay phones have been removed,” she tells me. “No one needed them anymore. Everyone has a cell.”

But with the new travel restrictions no one is allowed to carry cell phones onto the plane. Mine nests inside my backpack, which is in some cargo hold between Port au Prince, Haiti, and Manchester, New Hampshire.

I guess I’ll just have to wait. I trust that Monsieur Bellamy has reached my parents by now and told them when and where to meet me. I hope they know my plane is delayed so they’re not sitting all these hours at the airport.

Everywhere I look there are uniformed patrols. Their steely scrutiny unnerves me.

An eerie quiet fills the terminal. The only sound is the nearly muted commentary on FOX news. Everyone stares at the screens, watching the same clips of vigilante groups wandering like packs of dogs, frenzied looters racing through electronics stores, round-shouldered police interviewing shocked bystanders.

My fellow travelers sit or stand, staring, mesmerized by the images. No one speaks.

Near dawn, after an endless wait, a plane is finally found for us and we’re allowed to board. A little over an hour later, we land in New Hampshire. I’m one of the first from our flight to reach baggage claim and my pack emerges from the black hole early for a change.

I’m exhausted from twenty-four hours of travel. I just want to climb into the backseat of my parents’ car, eat a granola bar, close my eyes, and sleep through the two-and-a-half-hour ride home.

Despite the huge plate-glass windows in the terminal, a gray and sullen light greets me. I expected to return to the breathtaking beauty of May. Instead, out the glass doors a heavy blanket of storm clouds suffocates the life out of New England.

And I don’t see my parents.

I’ve never arrived in an airport without my parents meeting me. They always come, day or night, no matter where I land, no matter when I land … they’re always there.

But they’re not here now.

Monsieur Bellamy promised to get a call through to them.

I reason that they’ll be here any minute … that something has held them up. Or that they’ve gone to grab something to eat because they’ve been waiting for so long. Soon I’ll see their beaming faces. Soon I’ll be pawing through the hamper of snacks my mother always packs for the ride home.

But when they don’t show after a half hour, I swipe at my tears, battling the rising tide of panic.

I’ve been unwilling to take my eyes off the doors, certain my parents will materialize at any moment; but I can’t wait any longer. Stopping at a bank of chairs, I dig around for the cell phone inside my backpack.

Posted on the airport walls are new laws printed in boldface letters. Curfews. Mandatory registrations. Threats of incarceration. I don’t remember seeing any of this in Philadelphia. Is it possible they’ve been posted only in the last few hours? Is it possible they’ve been posted only in New England?

When I open my cell, I remember it’s dead. I reach into my backpack again, this time for the charger. But I can’t remember packing the charger. Not until I’ve emptied every compartment twice and checked every zippered pocket a half dozen times am I certain that I left the charger in Haiti. Beside my bed. At the Paradis des Enfants.

Typical. So typical.

My parents never scold me about the frequency with which I lose things. They always just fix it for me, no matter how I screw up. I’m used to them just fixing it for me.

Where are my parents now? I need my parents to fix things for me now. But they are nowhere. They’re nowhere. Even if I borrow someone’s cell phone, I can’t reach them if they’re already on the road. They both refuse to have cells of their own. Maybe, after this, they’ll agree to get one.

My hand closes on the one good surprise I’ve found in my backpack during my search for the charger. Jethro, one of the orphans at Paradis des Enfants, has tucked the little bear my mother knitted for him into my bag. I am too old for stuffed toys, but I am deeply grateful for this selfless gift. Jethro loved his little bear. What a sacrifice it was for him to part with it, to send it home with me. Now I know why he told everyone with such confidence that I would return. Carefully, I zipper the little bear back into my pack, take a deep breath, and walk out into the damp, chill air.

Striking up a conversation at curbside with a couple that left Haiti the same time I did, I learn they live an hour north of Manchester. He’s a carpenter and she’s a nurse and they’ve just spent six weeks volunteering in Port au Prince as part of a pledge they made to their church.

Usually I’m not bold, but these people, clearly struggling to handle their excess of luggage, seem safe enough. And I’m still trying to kill time, still waiting for my parents to show up. I offer to go back in and search for one of those metal luggage carts for them. They thank me and watch as I disappear back inside the terminal.

But there are no carts to be found.

Staring out at them through the glass doors, I make a decision. It’s looking more and more like my parents aren’t going to show. It’s possible Monsieur Bellamy couldn’t get through, that they don’t know I’m here.

When I return to the couple I propose helping them with their bags.

I ask, in exchange, if they could give me a lift to the bus station in town.

I’ve got my charge card now. I can buy a ticket home. It’ll be a great surprise for my parents when I walk through the front door.

Just the suggestion of my getting into their car causes fear to flicker across the face of the wife. All these new rules have set everyone on edge. But the grateful husband says, “Sure, we can give you a ride.”

We locate their car on the long-term lot. I’m crammed into the backseat with their luggage shifting around me. On the floor, as I squeeze in, I catch the glint of coins.

Bending over, pretending to retie the heavy boots my parents bought for me to take to Haiti, the boots I never wore the entire time I was there, I pick up two quarters from the car floor and slip them into my sock.

It’s only fifty cents. The man would have given it to me. But my cheeks feel hot as I sit back up. I can’t believe what I’ve just done.

The man keeps talking. They haven’t noticed that I’ve stolen their quarters.

He’s heard the Internet has been shut down. “The government trying to stop demonstrations on the street,” he suggests.

They are careful not to be too critical.

“The government is trying its best,” the wife says. “Under the circumstances…”

 

Copyright © 2012 by Karen Hesse

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