*Starred Review* Gr. 3-6. Forgiveness, light, love, and soup. These essential ingredients combine into a tale that is as soul stirring as it is delicious. Despereaux, a tiny mouse with huge ears, is the bane of his family's existence. He has fallen in love with the young princess who lives in the castle where he resides and, having read of knights and their ladies, vows to "honor her." But his unmouselike behavior gets him banished to the dungeon, where a swarm of rats kill whoever falls into their clutches. Another story strand revolves around Miggery, traded into service by her father, who got a tablecloth in return. Mig's desire to be a princess, a rat's yen for soup (a food banished from the kingdom after a rat fell in a bowl and killed the queen), and Despereaux's quest to save his princess after she is kidnapped climax in a classic fairy tale, rich and satisfying. Part of the charm comes from DiCamillo's deceptively simple style and short chapters in which the author addresses the reader: "Do you think rats do not have hearts? Wrong. All living things have a heart." And as with the best stories, there are important messages tucked in here and there, so subtly that children who are carried away by the words won't realize they have been uplifted until much later. Ering's soft pencil illustrations reflect the story's charm. Ilene Cooper
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
Review
DiCamillo "sets the stage for a battle between the forces of Darkness and Light in The Tale of Despereaux, and the book is a terrific, bravura performance."
—The New York Times Book Review
The author of Because of Winn-Dixie and The Tiger Rising here shifts gears, demonstrating her versatility while once again proving her genius for mining the universal themes of childhood. . . . I must tell you, you are in for a treat.
—Publishers Weekly (starred review)
A charming story of unlikely heroes . . . This expanded fairy tale is entertaining, heartening, and, above all, great fun.
—School Library Journal (starred review)
Forgiveness, light, love, and soup. These essential ingredients combine into a tale that is as soul stirring as it is delicious.
—Booklist (starred review)
The melodramatic voice of the narrator glides through DiCamillo's entirely pleasing tale . . . And so unwinds a tale with twists and turns, full of forbidden soup and ladles, rats lusting for mouse blood, a servant who wishes to be a princess, a knight in shining—or at least furry—armor, and all the ingredients of an old-fashioned drama.
—Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
There is a classic charm to this picaresque tale of an idealistic mouse suffering unrequited love for a princess; that and a pace that lends itself to reading aloud will make this novel a favorite among those ready for some gentle questing.
—The Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books
DiCamillo tells an engaging tale . . . Many readers will be enchanted by this story of mice and princesses, brave deeds, hearts 'shaded with dark and dappled with light,' and forgiveness.
—The Horn Book
Soul stirring and charming.
—Booklist
Newbery-Honor winning DiCamillo creates the perfect read-aloud with delightful, fanciful characters.
—Child's Best of the Year
This old-fashioned tale is overflowing with good and evil, light and dark, scary adventures, and a happy ending. Ideally read aloud.
—Nick Jr. Family Magazine Best Books of the Year
Chill winds call for hot cocoa and a good book. The Tale of Despereaux serves up 52 chapters bursting with adventure.
—Washington Parent
I give this book the highest rating: five out of five stars.
—Newsday
Unexpectedly complex in the relationships between its characters, DiCamillo's fable, engagingly illustrated by Timothy Basil Ering, delivers a carefully orchestrated, but not overstated, testament to the power of love and forgiveness.
—San Francisco Chronicle
"Reader, it is his destiny — just as it is for The Tale of Despereaux to become another timeless classic in the once-upon-a-time genre.
—Orlando Sentinel
This charming adventure by the award-winning author of Because of Winn-Dixie is a story of love, courage and following your heart.
—Detroit Free Press
Read the book aloud. Few recent texts have been designed for that, with multiple plots ticking on, divided into 52 small chapters. And don't forget the coda, a tiny but deft apologia of the imagination.
—Chicago Tribune
This charming fairy tale brims with delightful characters.
—Cleveland Plain Dealer
Here once again, loss brings characters together, misfits find a place in the world, and darkness and light swirl together in a not easily divisible mix.
—Star Tribune
The Tale of Despereaux "has DiCamillo's modern sensibilities, her wry humor, and crystalline prose."
—Miami Herald
The story is just plain fun to read, but it also explores deeper and darker aspects of parent-child relations, including betrayal, the need for forgiveness and the power of love.
—Houston Chronicle
Super Summer Reads: The Tale of Despereaux by Kate DiCamillo. A smaller-than-usual mouse falls in love with music, stories, and a Princess named Pea.
—Woman's Day
A heartwarming and rewarding read, The Tale of Despereaux cheers uniqueness, boos conformity, urges readers to overlook seeming differences, and inspires hope.
—Teacher Magazine
With its old-fashioned, fairy tale qualities and whimsical pencil drawings by Timothy Basil Ering, the book is definitely a departure for DiCamillo, but one readers are sure to love.
—Book Page
. . . DiCamillo's new fantasy novel is charming, by turns sad, sweet, and mildly scary.
—Voice of Youth Advocates
Sly style and brilliantly-crafted characters will reward the reader . . .
—The Five Owls
About the Author
Kate DiCamillo lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota. She is the author of Because of Winn-Dixie, a Newbery Honor book, and The Tiger Rising, which was a National Book Award Finalist.
Timothy Basil Ering is the author and illustrator of the acclaimed picture book The Story of Frog Belly Rat Bone. He lives in Massachusetts, USA.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter One: The Last One
This story begins within the walls of a castle, with the birth of a mouse. A small mouse. The last mouse born to his parents and the only one of his litter to be born alive.
“Where are my babies?” said the exhausted mother when the ordeal was through. “Show to me my babies.”
The father mouse held the one small mouse up high.
“There is only this one,” he said. “The others are dead.”
“Mon Dieu, just the one mouse baby?”
“Just the one. Will you name him?”
“All of that work for nothing,” said the mother. She sighed. “It is so sad. It is such the disappointment.”
She was a French mouse who had arrived at the castle long ago in the luggage of a visiting French diplomat. “Disappointment” was one of her favorite words. She used it often.
“Will you name him?” repeated the father.
“Will I name him? Will I name him? Of course, I will name him, but he will only die like the others. Oh, so sad. Oh, such the tragedy.”
The mouse mother held a handkerchief to her nose and then waved it in front of her face. She sniffed. “I will name him. Yes. I will name this mouse Despereaux, for all the sadness, for the many despairs in this place. Now, where is my mirror?”
Her husband handed her a small shard of mirror. The mouse mother, whose name was Antoinette, looked at her reflection and gasped aloud. “Toulèse,” she said to one of her sons, “get for me my makeup bag. My eyes are a fright.”
While Antoinette touched up her eye makeup, the mouse father put Despereaux down on a bed made of blanket scraps. The April sun, weak but determined, shone through a castle window and from there squeezed itself through a small hole in the wall and placed one golden finger on the little mouse.
The other, older mice children gathered around to stare at Despereaux.
“His ears are too big,” said his sister Merlot. “Those are the biggest ears I’ve ever seen.”
“Look,” said a brother named Furlough, “his eyes are open. Pa, his eyes are open. They shouldn’t be open.”
It is true. Despereaux’s eyes should not have been open. But they were. He was staring at the sun reflecting off his mother’s mirror. The light was shining onto the ceiling in an oval of brilliance, and he was smiling up at the sight.
“There’s something wrong with him,” said the father. “Leave him alone.”
Despereaux’s brothers and sisters stepped back, away from the new mouse.
“This is the last,” proclaimed Antoinette from her bed. “I will have no more mice babies. They are such the disappointment. They are hard on my beauty. They ruin, for me, my looks. This is the last one. No more.”
“The last one,” said the father. “And he’ll be dead soon. He can’t live. Not with his eyes open like that.”
But, reader, he did live.
This is his story.
Chapter Two: Such A Disappointment
Despereaux Tilling lived.
But his existence was cause for much speculation in the mouse community.
“He’s the smallest mouse I’ve ever seen,” said his aunt Florence. “It’s ridiculous. No mouse has ever, ever been this small. Not even a Tilling.” She looked at Despereaux through narrowed eyes as if she expected him to disappear entirely. “No mouse,” she said again. “Ever.”
Despereaux, his tail wrapped around his feet, stared back at her.
“Those are some big ears he’s got, too,” observed his uncle Alfred. “They look more like donkey ears, if you ask me.”
“They are obscenely large ears,” said Aunt Florence.
Despereaux wiggled his ears.
His aunt Florence gasped.
“They say he was born with his eyes open,” whispered Uncle Alfred.
Despereaux stared hard at his uncle.
“Impossible,” said Aunt Florence. “No mouse, no matter how small or obscenely large-eared, is ever born with his eyes open. It simply isn’t done.”
“His pa, Lester, says he’s not well,” said Uncle Alfred.
Despereaux sneezed.
He said nothing in defense of himself. How could he? Everything his aunt and uncle said was true. He was ridiculously small. His ears were obscenely large. He had been born with his eyes open. And he was sickly. He coughed and sneezed so often that he carried a handkerchief in one paw at all times. He ran temperatures. He fainted at loud noises. Most alarming of all, he showed no interest in the things a mouse should show interest in.
He did not think constantly of food. He was not intent on tracking down every crumb. While his larger, older siblings ate, Despereaux stood with his head cocked to one side, holding very still.
“Do you hear that sweet, sweet sound?” he said.
“I hear the sound of cake crumbs falling out of people’s mouths and hitting the floor,” said his brother Toulèse. “That’s what I hear.”
“No . . . ,” said Despereaux. “It’s something else. It sounds like . . . um . . . honey.”
“You might have big ears,” said Toulèse, “but they’re not attached right to your brain. You don’t hear honey. You smell honey. When there’s honey to smell. Which there isn’t.”
“Son!” barked Despereaux’s father. “Snap to it. Get your head out of the clouds and hunt for crumbs.”
“Please,” said his mother, “look for the crumbs. Eat them to make your mama happy. You are such the skinny mouse. You are a disappointment to your mama.”
“Sorry,” said Despereaux. He lowered his head and sniffed the castle floor.
But, reader, he was not smelling.
He was listening, with his big ears, to the sweet sound that no other mouse seemed to hear.
Miggery Sow heard, perfect and true, every single word the rat Roscuro uttered.Highlighted by 8,105 Kindle readers
