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A War of Gifts (Other Tales from the Ender Universe)

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Overview

Orson Scott Card offers a Christmas gift to his millions of fans with this short novel set during Ender's first years at the Battle School where it is forbidden to celebrate religious holidays.  The children come from many nations, many religions; while they are being trained for war, religious conflict between them is not on the curriculum. But Dink Meeker, one of the older students, doesn't see it that way. He thinks that giving gifts isn't exactly a religious observation, and on Sinterklaas Day he tucks a...
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A War of Gifts (Other Tales from the Ender Universe)

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Overview

Orson Scott Card offers a Christmas gift to his millions of fans with this short novel set during Ender's first years at the Battle School where it is forbidden to celebrate religious holidays.  The children come from many nations, many religions; while they are being trained for war, religious conflict between them is not on the curriculum. But Dink Meeker, one of the older students, doesn't see it that way. He thinks that giving gifts isn't exactly a religious observation, and on Sinterklaas Day he tucks a present into another student's shoe.

This small act of rebellion sets off a battle royal between the students and the staff, but some surprising alliances form when Ender comes up against a new student, Zeck Morgan. The War over Santa Claus will force everyone to make a choice.
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Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly

Adding to the ever-growing Enderverse, Card provides listeners with an amusing and sincere tale about religious observance just in time for the holidays. Like all Battle School students, Zeck has been torn from his family and religion to train in a school in outer space. Passively resisting his environment, Zeck must find a way to reconcile his beliefs with his actions and learn new things about himself that will challenge the life he knew. With Brick's lighter tone complementing Rudnicki's deep resonating voice, the two make an excellent pair as narrators. Often, their parts are split according to point of view, so that Brick narrates aspects of the story from the vantage point of Zeck and the other students while Rudniki embodies the adults, especially the militaristic leaders at the Battle School. Mostly, this shifting back and forth is done by sections of the book, and not in characters exchanging dialogue. However, very abruptly at one point in the story, the director decided to have Brick and Rudnicki exchange dialogue. If this were the standard throughout, it may well have worked, but since it happened only once and in mid-discussion between two characters, it feels out of place. Simultaneous release with the Tor Books hardcover (Reviews, Aug. 27). (Nov.)

Copyright 2007 Reed Business Information
VOYA - Sarah Flowers
One never would expect a Christmas story set in the world of Ender and Battle School, but that is exactly what Card delivers in this novella. Although not actually a Christmas story-it takes place in the weeks between St. Nicholas Day, December 6, and Christmas-it shows how Card continues to think about the children of Battle School and their psychology in the more than twenty years since Ender's Game (Tor, 1985) was first published. Religious observance is banned at Battle School because the children come from all different religions and cultures, and the intention of the school is to keep them all working for a common cause. But Dink Meeker does not think that it will hurt to leave a Sinterklaas Day poem in the shoe of a fellow Dutch student. Suddenly the whole school becomes embroiled in the "war of gifts," which is really a war of wills, partly between the students and the staff but also between Ender and a new student, a fundamentalist Christian and pacifist named Zeck. It is a touching story, true to the world of the Ender novels, but also true to Card's tradition of asking important questions about nationality, culture, religion, and human relationships.
Library Journal

Can you celebrate Christmas and battle aliens at the same time? The author of the best-selling Ender series answers the question in this holiday novella.


—Rebecca Vnuk
School Library Journal

Adult/High School -Set in a war-torn future, this novella moves from the series hero to Zeck, son of an abusive fundamentalist preacher. His phenomenal abilities for memorization and judging a situation make him an ideal candidate for the International Fleeta€™s Battle School, an academy that trains boys to be brilliant military leaders in an ongoing interstellar war. Despite his mental aptitudes, Zeck proves an unwilling pupil when he refuses to participate in battle simulations, claiming them to be against his religion. These beliefs make Zeck a pariah within the school, pushing him to cry foul when he sees two Dutch students quietly celebrate Christmas-or Sinterklaas Day-by exchanging satirical poems. This kicks off a cultural revolt, pitting students of different religions against one another and against the school in the name of religious freedom. Ender himself plays a small but pivotal role by confronting Zeck and forcing him to deal with the dark issues of his past. Sci-fi purists may be let down by the lack of technology and big-scale military drama that Card is often associated with, but readers looking for a short tale dealing with issues of cultural conflict, religious freedom, and personal discovery will have much to enjoy. Carda€™s well-imagined characters take this story to places that are both moving and satisfying.-Matthew L. Moffett, Pohick Regional Library, Burke, VA

Kirkus Reviews
Seems that Card (Invasive Procedures, 2007, etc.) can do anything he likes with his monumental child-warrior Ender's saga-except actually end it. Young Zeck Morgan, gifted with an eidetic memory, is the son of abusive, fire-breathing, Bible-thumping preacher Habit. When called up to join other talented seven-to-nine-year-olds in the orbiting Battle School, where all expression of religion is forbidden, Zeck adheres to his fundamentalist Christian indoctrination and refuses to contemplate killing, not even opponents in battle games, and so is shunned by the other students. Then Dink Meeker, a Dutch student, starts exchanging gifts with others as a celebration of Sinterklass. It begins as a joke, but soon turns into a serious revolt as Dink insists that Santa Claus is not a religious symbol. Battle School's authorities disagree; Zeck likewise refuses to participate and ultimately is forced into a psychological crisis-mediated, of course, by the great Ender Wiggin-in which Zeck must confront the true nature of his relationship with his father and his faith. A Little League stocking stuffer that nevertheless makes several cogent points. Ender lives on.
From the Publisher
"The folks at Audio Renaissance have quite literally brought greatness to the text. They've included an introduction and a postscript read by Card himself, both of which place the novel and the audiobook in its context as well as enlightening us to the author's method of its construction. Multiple readers led by Stefan Rudnicki work perfectly to vocally illustrate each chapter, character and scene." —Science Fiction and Fantasy on Ender's Game (A Science Fiction and Fantasy Essential)

"The ideal presentation of any book of mine is to have excellent actors perform it in audio-only format."—Orson Scott Card from the afterword of Ender's Game

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780765312822
  • Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
  • Publication date: 10/30/2007
  • Series: Other Tales from the Ender Universe Series
  • Edition description: First Edition
  • Pages: 128
  • Sales rank: 450,558
  • Product dimensions: 4.90 (w) x 7.20 (h) x 0.70 (d)

Meet the Author

Orson Scott Card

Orson Scott Card is best known for his science fiction novel Ender's Game and it’s many sequels that expand the Ender Universe into the far future and the near past.  Those books are organized into the Ender Quintet, the five books that chronicle the life of Ender Wiggin; the Shadow Series, that follows on the novel Ender’s Shadow and are set on Earth; and the Formic Wars series, written with co-author Aaron Johnston, that tells of the terrible first contact between humans and the alien “Buggers”.

Card has been a working writer since the 1970s. Beginning with dozens of plays and musical comedies produced in the 1960s and 70s, Card's first published fiction appeared in 1977 — the short story "Gert Fram" in the July issue of The Ensign, and the novelet version of "Ender's Game" in the August issue of Analog.

 

The novel-length version of Ender’s Game, published in 1984 and continuously in print since then, became the basis of  the 2013 film, starring Asa Butterfield, Harrison Ford, Ben Kingsley, Hailee Steinfeld, Viola Davis, and Abigail Breslin.

 

Card was born in Washington state, and grew up in California, Arizona, and Utah. He served a mission for the LDS Church in Brazil in the early 1970s. Besides his writing, he runs occasional writers’ workshops and directs plays. He frequently teaches writing and literature courses at Southern Virginia University.

He is the author many sf and fantasy novels, including the American frontier fantasy series “The Tales of Alvin Maker” (beginning with Seventh Son), There are also stand-alone science fiction and fantasy novels like Pastwatch and Hart’s Hope. He has collaborated with his daughter Emily Card on a manga series, Laddertop. He has also written contemporary thrillers like Empire and historical novels like the monumental Saints and the religious novels Sarah and Rachel and Leah. Card’s recent work includes the Mithermages books (Lost Gate, Gate Thief), contemporary magical fantasy for readers both young and old.  

 

Card lives in Greensboro, North Carolina, with his wife, Kristine Allen Card,  He and Kristine are the parents of five children and several grandchildren.

Biography

Any discussion of Orson Scott Card's work must necessarily begin with religion. A devout Mormon, Card believes in imparting moral lessons through his fiction, a stance that sometimes creates controversy on both sides of the fence. Some Mormons have objected to the violence in his books as being antithetical to the Mormon message, while his conservative political activism has gotten him into hot water with liberal readers.

Whether you agree with his personal views or not, Card's fiction can be enjoyed on many different levels. And with the amount of work he's produced, there is something to fit the tastes of readers of all ages and stripes. Averaging two novels a year since 1979, Card has also managed to find the time to write hundreds of audio plays and short stories, several stage plays, a television series concept, and a screenplay of his classic novel Ender's Game. In addition to his science fiction and fantasy novels, he has also written contemporary fiction, religious, and nonfiction works.

Card's novel that has arguably had the biggest impact is 1985's Hugo and Nebula award-winner Ender's Game. Ender's Game introduced readers to Andrew "Ender" Wiggin, a young genius faced with the task of saving the Earth. Ender's Game is that rare work of fiction that strikes a chord with adults and young adult readers alike. The sequel, Speaker for the Dead, also won the Hugo and Nebula awards, making Card the only author in history to win both prestigious science-fiction awards two years in a row.

In 2000, Card returned to Ender's world with a "parallel" novel called Ender's Shadow. Ender's Shadow retells the events of Ender's Game from the perspective of Julian "Bean" Delphinki, Ender's second-in-command. As Sam to Ender's Frodo, Bean is doomed to be remembered as an also-ran next to the legendary protagonist of the earlier novel. In many ways, Bean is a more complex and intriguing character than the preternaturally brilliant Ender, and his alternate take on the events of Ender's Game provide an intriguing counterpoint to fans of the original series.

In addition to moral issues, a strong sense of family pervades Card's work. Card is a devoted family man and father to five (!) children. In the age of dysfunctional family literature, Card bristles at the suggestion that a positive home life is uninteresting. "How do you keep ‘good parents' from being boring?" he once said. "Well, in truth, the real problem is, how do you keep bad parents from being boring? I've seen the same bad parents in so many books and movies that I'm tired of them."

Critical appreciation for Card's work often points to the intriguing plotlines and deft characterizations that are on display in Card's most accomplished novels. Card developed the ability to write believable characters and page-turning plots as a college theater student. To this day, when he writes, Card always thinks of the audience first. "It's the best training in the world for a writer, to have a live audience," he says. "I'm constantly shaping the story so the audience will know why they should care about what's going on."

Card brought Bean back in 2005 for the fourth and final novel in the Shadow series: Shadow of the Giant. The novel presented some difficulty for the writer. Characters who were relatively unimportant when the series began had moved to the forefront, and as a result, Card knew that the ending he had originally envisioned would not be enough to satisfy the series' fans.

Although the Ender and Shadow series deal with politics, Card likes to keep his personal political opinions out of his fiction. He tries to present the governments of futuristic Earth as realistically as possible without drawing direct analogies to our current political climate. This distance that Card maintains between the real world and his fictional worlds helps give his novels a lasting and universal appeal.

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    1. Hometown:
      Greensboro, North Carolina
    1. Date of Birth:
      August 24, 1951
    2. Place of Birth:
      Richland, Washington
    1. Education:
      B.A. in theater, Brigham Young University, 1975; M.A. in English, University of Utah, 1981
    2. Website:

Read an Excerpt

A War of Gifts

An Ender Story
By Card, Orson Scott

Tor Books

Copyright © 2007 Card, Orson Scott
All right reserved.

ISBN: 9780765312822

Chapter 1
Zeck Morgan sat attentively on the front row of the little sanctuary of the Church of the Pure Christ in Eden, North Carolina. He did not fidget, though he had two itches, one on his foot and one on his eyebrow. He knew the eyebrow itch was from a fly that had landed there. The foot itch, too, probably, though he did not look down to see whether anything was crawling there.
He did not look out the windows at the falling snow. He did not glance to left or right, not even to glare at the parents of the crying baby in the row behind him—it was for others to judge whether it was more important for the parents to stay and hear the sermon, or leave and preserve the stillness of the meeting.
Zeck was the minister’s son, and he knew his duty.
Reverend Habit Morgan stood at the small pulpit—really an old dictionary stand picked up at a library sale. No doubt the dictionary that had once rested on it had been replaced by a computer, just one more sign of the degradation of the human race, to worship the False God of Tamed Lightning. “They think because they have pulled the lightning from the sky and contained it in their machines they are gods now, or the friends of gods. Do they not know that the only thing written by lightningis fire? Yea, I say unto you, it is the fire of hell, and the gods they have befriended are devils!”
It had been one of Father’s best sermons. He gave it when Zeck was three, but Zeck had not forgotten a word of it. Zeck did not forget a word of anything. As soon as he knew what words were, he remembered them.
But he did not tell Father that he remembered. Because when Mother realized that he could repeat whole sermons word for word, she told him, very quietly but very intensely, “This is a great gift that God has given you, Zeck. But you must not show it to anyone, because some might think it comes from Satan.”
“Does it?” Zeck had asked. “Come from Satan?”
“Satan does not give good gifts,” said Mother. “So it comes from God.”
“Then why would anyone think it comes from Satan?”
Her forehead frowned, though her lips kept their smile. Her lips always smiled when she knew anyone was looking. It was her duty as the minister’s wife to show that the pure Christian life made one happy.
“Some people are looking so hard to find Satan,” she finally said, “that they see him even where he isn’t.”
Naturally, Zeck remembered this conversation word for word. So it was there in his mind when he was four, and Father said, “There are those who will tell you that a thing is from God, when it’s really from the devil.”
“Why, Father?”
“They are deceived,” said Father, “by their own desire. They wish the world were a better place, so they pretend that polluted things are pure, so they don’t have to fear them.”
Ever since then, Zeck had balanced these two conversations, for he knew that Mother was warning him about Father, and Father was warning him about Mother.
It was impossible to choose between them. He did not want to choose.
Still . . . he never let Father see his perfect memory. It was not a lie, however. If Father ever asked him to repeat a conversation or a sermon or anything at all, Zeck would do it, and honestly, showing that he knew it word for word. But Father did not ask anybody anything, except when he asked God.
Which he had just done. Standing there at the pulpit, glaring out at the congregation, Father said, “What about Santa Claus! Saint Nick! Is he the same thing as ‘Old Nick’? Does he have anything to do with Christ? Is our worship pure, when we have this ‘Old Saint Nick’ in our hearts? Is he really jolly? Does he laugh because he knows he is leading our children down to hell?”
He glared around the congregation as if waiting for an answer. And finally someone gave the only answer that was appropriate for this point in the sermon:
“Brother Habit, we don’t know. Would you ask God and tell us what he says?”
Whereupon Father roared out, “God in heaven! Thou knowest our question! Tell us thine answer! We thy children ask thee for bread, O Father! Do not give us a stone!”
Then he gripped the pulpit—the dictionary stand, which trembled under his hands—and continued glaring upward. Zeck knew that when Father looked upward like that, he did not see the roof beams or the ceiling above them. He was staring into heaven, demanding that all those hurrying angels get out of his way so his gaze could penetrate all the way to God and demand his attention, because it was his right. Ask and it shall be given, God had promised. Knock and it shall be opened! Well, Habit Morgan was knocking and asking, and it was time for God to open and give. God could not break his word—at least not when Habit Morgan was holding him to it.
But God took his own sweet time. Which was why Zeck was sitting there on the front row, with Mother and his three younger siblings beside him, all perched on chairs so wobbly they showed the slightest trace of movement. The other children were young, and their fidgets were forgiven. Zeck was determined to be pure, and his wobbly chair might have been made of stone for all the movement it made.
When Father stared into heaven this long it was a test. Maybe it was a test given by God, or maybe Father had already received his answer—received it perhaps the night before when he was writing this sermon—and so the test was from him. Either way, Zeck would pass this test as he passed all the tests laid before him.
The long minutes dragged. One itch would fade, only to be replaced by another. Father still stared into heaven. Zeck ignored the sweat trickling down his neck.
And behind him, somewhere among the seventy-three members of the congregation who had come today (Zeck hadn’t counted them, he had only glanced, but as usual he immediately knew how many there were), someone shifted in his seat. Someone coughed. It was the moment Father—or God—had been waiting for.
Father’s voice was only a whisper, but it carried through the room. “How can I hear the voice of the Holy Spirit when I am surrounded by impurity?”
Zeck thought of quoting back to him his own sermon, given two years ago, when Zeck was only just barely four. “Do you think that God cannot make his voice heard no matter what other noise is going on around you? If you are pure, then all the tumult of the world is silence compared to the voice of God.” But Zeck knew that to quote this now would bring down the rod of chastisement. Father was not really asking a question. He was pointing out what everyone knew: that in all this congregation, only Habit Morgan was really, truly pure. That’s why God’s answers came to him, and only to him.
“Saint Nick is a mask!” roared Father. “Saint Nick is the false beard and the false laugh worn by the drunken servants of the God of frivolity. Dionysus is his name! Bacchus! Revelry and debauchery! Greed and covetousness are the gifts he instills in the hearts of our children! O God, save us from the Satan of Santa! Keep our children’s eyes averted from his malicious, predatory gaze! Do not seat our children upon his lap to whisper their coveting into his stony ear! He is an idol of idolatry! God knows what spirit animates these idols and makes them laugh their ho, ho, whoredoms and abominations and braying jackassery!”
Father was in fine form. And now that he was bellowing the words of God, striding back and forth across the front of the sanctuary, Zeck could scratch the occasional itch, as long as he kept his gaze locked on Father’s face.
For an hour Father went on, telling stories of children who put their faith in Santa Claus, and parents who lied to their children about Saint Nick and taught their children that all the stories of Christmas were myths—including the story of the Christ child. Telling stories of children who became atheists when Santa did not bring them the gifts they coveted most.
“Satan is a liar every time! When Santa puts a lie on the lips of parents, the seed of that lie is planted in the hearts of their children and when that seed comes to flower and bears fruit, the fruit of that lie is faithlessness. You do not deserve the trust of your children when you lie for Satan!”
Then his voice fell to a whisper. “Jolly old Saint Nicholas,” he hissed. “Lean your ear this way. Don’t you tell a single soul what I’m going to say.” Then his voice roared out again. “Yes, your children whisper their secret desires to Satan and he will answer their prayers, not with the presents they seek, and certainly not with the presence of God Immanuel! No, he will answer their prayers with the ashes of sin in their mouths, with the poison of atheism and unbelief in the plasma of their blood. He will drive out the hemoglobin and replace it with hellish lust!”
And so on. And so on.
In Zeck’s mind, the clock that kept perfect time went round the full forty minutes of the sermon. Father never repeated himself once, and yet he also never strayed from the single message. God’s message was always brief, Father said, but it took him many words to translate the pure wisdom of the Lord’s language into the poor English that mere mortals could understand.
And Father’s sermons never ran over. He wrapped them up right in time. He was not a man who talked just to hear himself talk. He labored his labor and then he was done.
At the end of the sermon, there was a hymn and then Father called upon old Brother Verlin and told him that God had seen him today and made his heart pure enough to pray. Verlin rose to his feet weeping and could hardly get out the words of the prayer of blessing on the congregation, he was so moved at being chosen for the first time since he confessed selling an old car of his for nearly twice what it was worth, because the buyer had tempted him by offering even more for it. His sin was forgiven, more or less. That’s what it meant, for Brother Habit to call on him to pray.
Then it was done. Zeck leapt to his feet and ran to his father and hugged him, as he always did, for it felt to him when such a sermon ended that some dust of light from heaven must linger still on Father’s clothing, and if Zeck could embrace him tightly enough, it might rub off on him, so that he could begin to become pure. Because heaven knew he was not pure now.
Father loved him at such times. Father’s hands were gentle on his hair, his shoulder, his back; there was no willow rod to draw blood out of his shirt.
“Look, son,” said Father. “We have a stranger here in the House of the Lord.”
Zeck pulled free to look at the door. Others had noticed the man, too, and stood looking at him, silent until Habit Morgan declared him to be friend or foe. The stranger wore a uniform, but it wasn’t one that Zeck had seen before—not the sheriff or a deputy, not a fireman, not the state police.
“Welcome to the Church of the Pure Christ,” said Father. “I’m sorry you didn’t arrive for the sermon.”
“I listened from outside,” said the man. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Then you did well,” said Father, “for you heard the word of God, and yet you listened with humility.”
“Are you Reverend Habit Morgan?” asked the man.
“I am,” said Father, “except we have no titles among us except Brother and Sister. ‘Reverend’ suggests that I’m a certified minister, a hireling. No one certified me but God, for only God can teach his pure doctrine, and only God can name his ministers. Nor am I hired, for the servants of God are all equal in his sight, and must all obey the admonition of God to Adam, to earn his bread by the sweat of his face. I farm a plot of ground. I also drive a truck for United Parcel Service.”
“Forgive me for using an unwelcome title,” said the man. “In my ignorance, I meant only respect.”
But Zeck was a keen observer of human beings, and it seemed to him that the man had already known how Father felt about the title “reverend,” and he had used it deliberately.
This was wrong. This was a pollution of the sanctuary.
Zeck ran from Father to stand a few feet in front of the man.
“If you tell the truth right now,” Zeck said boldly, fearing nothing that this man could do to him, “God will forgive you for your lie and the sanctuary will be purified again.”
The congregation gasped. Not in surprise or dismay; they assumed that it was God speaking through him at times like this, though Zeck never claimed any such thing. He denied that God ever spoke through him, and beyond that he could not control what they believed.
“What lie was that?” asked the man, amused.
“You know all about us,” said Zeck. “You’ve studied our beliefs. You’ve studied everything about Father. You know that it’s an offense to call him ‘reverend.’ You did it on purpose, and now you’re lying to pretend you meant respect.”
“You’re correct,” said the man, still amused. “But what possible difference does it make?”
“It must have made a difference to you,” said Zeck, “or you wouldn’t have bothered to lie.”
By now Father stood behind him, and his hand on Zeck’s head told him he had said enough and it was Father’s turn now.
“Out of the mouths of babes,” said Father to the stranger. “You’ve come to us with a lie on your lips, one which even a child could detect. Why are you here, and who sent you?”
“I was sent by the International Fleet, and my purpose is to test this boy to see if he is qualified to attend Battle School.”
“We are Christians, sir,” said Father. “God will protect us if that is his will. We will lift no hand against our enemy.”
“I’m not here to argue theology,” said the stranger. “I’m here to carry out the law. There are no exemptions because of the religion of the parents.”
“What about for the religion of the child?” asked Father.
“Children have no religion,” said the stranger. “That’s why we take them young—before they have been fully indoctrinated in any ideology.”
“So you can indoctrinate them in yours,” said Father.
“Exactly,” said the man.
Then the man reached out to Zeck. “Come with me, Zechariah Morgan. We’ve set up the examination in your parents’ house.”
Zeck turned his back on the man.
“He does not choose to take your test,” said Father.
“And yet,” said the man, “he will take it, one way or another.”
The congregation murmured at that.
The man from the International Fleet looked around at them. “Our responsibility in the International Fleet is to protect the human race from the Formic invaders. We protect the whole human race—even those who don’t wish to be protected—and we draw upon the most brilliant minds of the human race and train them for command—even those who do not wish to be trained. What if this boy were the most brilliant of all, the commander that would lead us to victory where no other could succeed? Should everyone else in the human race die, just so you in this congregation can remain . . . pure?”
“Yes,” said Father. And the congregation echoed him. “Yes. Yes.”
“We are the leaven in the loaf,” said Father. “We are the salt that must keep its savor, lest the whole earth be destroyed. It is our purity that will persuade God to preserve this wicked generation, not your violence.”
The man laughed. “Your purity against our violence.” His hand lashed out and he seized Zeck by the collar of his shirt and dragged him sharply backward, toward him. Before anyone could do more than shout in protest, he had torn Zeck’s shirt from his body and then whirled him around to show his scarred back, with the freshest wounds still bright red, and the newest of all still beading with blood from this sudden movement. “What about your violence? We don’t raise our hands against children.”
“Don’t you?” said Father. “To spare the rod is to spoil the child—God has told us how to make our children pure from the moment they achieve accountability until they have mastered their own discipline. I strike my son’s body to teach his spirit to embrace the pure love of Christ. You will teach him to hate his enemies, so that it no longer matters whether his body is living or dead, for his soul will be polluted and God will spit him out of his mouth.”
The man threw Zeck’s shirt in Father’s face. “Come back to your house and you’ll find us there with your son, doing what the law requires.”
Zeck tore away from the man’s grip. The man was holding him very tightly, but Zeck had a great advantage: He didn’t care how much it hurt to pull himself free. “I will not go with you,” said Zeck.
The man touched a small electronic patch on his belt and immediately the door burst open and a dozen armed men filed in.
“I will place your father under arrest,” said the man from the fleet. “And your mother. And anyone in this congregation who resists me.”
Mother came forward then, pushing her way past Father and several others. “Then you know nothing about us,” said Mother. “We have no intention of resisting you. When a Roman demands a cloak from us, we give unto him our coat also.” She pushed the two older girls toward the man. “Test them all. Test the youngest, too, if you can. She doesn’t speak yet, but no doubt you have your ways.”
“We’ll be back for them, even though the two youngest are illegal. But not till they come of age.”
“You can steal our son’s body,” said Mother. “But you can never steal his heart. Train him all you want. Teach him whatever you want. His heart is pure. He will recite your words back to you but he will never, never believe them. He belongs to the Pure Christ, not to the human race.”
Zeck held himself still, so he could not shudder as his body wanted to. Mother’s boldness was rare, and always chancy. How would Father react to this? It was his place to speak, to act, to protect the family and the church.
Then again, Father had said several times that a good helpmeet is one who is not afraid to give unwelcome counsel to her husband, and a man so foolish that he can’t hear wisdom from his wife is not worthy to be any woman’s husband.
“Go with the man, Zeck,” said Father. “And answer all questions with pure honesty.”  Copyright © 2007 by Orson Scott Card. All rights reserved.


Continues...

Excerpted from A War of Gifts by Card, Orson Scott Copyright © 2007 by Card, Orson Scott. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 78 Customer Reviews
  • Posted March 18, 2011

    Not Really Part of the Series, so Why is it #5?

    I was expecting two things when I shelled out $6.49 for this book on the NookColor: a sequel to Children of the Mind, and something more substantial than a 70-page short. This is not the author's fault; this smacks of a typical ruse on the part of the publisher. While I like the story, I still find it hard to enjoy given that it turned out to be a rip-off.

    6 out of 8 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted December 9, 2008

    more from this reviewer

    Scott Card has written a powerful tale that transcends age

    Zack Morgan is in his dad¿s church listening to his father preach when a man enters and forces him to go with him to his house where he will be tested to see if he is qualified to attend Battle School. Zack is a pacifist, indoctrinated in his father¿s religion by the whip marks on his back. Tests show he has the brilliance needed and wanted to attend the school. He promises the testers he will go but he won¿t fight.-------------- He keeps that promise and preaches at the slightest opportunity although most of the students passively ignore him. When a Dutch student gives a gift to another Dutch boy in the name of Sinterklaas, Zack reports it because he knows that it is forbidden to practice religion in Battle School due to the belief that is to divisive. Christians start exchanging gifts in the name of Santa Claus but when the Muslims begin praying in public they are arrested. The Christians stop exchanging gifts and life goes back to normal except that Zack is treated as a Judas pariah. Ender Wiggin takes matters into his own hands.------------- For such a small novella, the story line is loaded with social themes including religion and how it is practiced, parental abuse, eliminating things like religious practices so that the students learn to fight as a group with no divisiveness to split them apart and weaken morale. Zack is a master manipulator who goaded the Muslims into praying in public because he had a desperate need to get home. Orson Scott Card has written a powerful tale that transcends age and makes a perfect holiday gift.----------- Harriet Klausner

    4 out of 5 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 14, 2008

    Battleschool and the Spirit of Christmas

    Card does a masterful job of explaining Santa Claus, warring religions, national culture, religious observances, rage, manipulative behavior,and humanity and kindness in 126 small pages to kids in the context of a future battleschool, where kids are taken from their parents at a young age and trained to fight a known hostile alien race. Highly imaginative and relevant today, it would be wonderful if adults as well as kids pick this up. The kids actions ring true, from the subversive Santa Claus sock rebellion against the stricture against all religious observances to the Muslin students revolt against the stricture against public prayer. What's amazing is how Ender manages to create a situation in which Zeck has to recognize the why of his actions and their consequences.

    3 out of 4 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 29, 2011

    not worth the money

    this is a good short story
    NOT A NOVEL!
    it is a rip off to charge for this story
    it doesn't even fit in with the storyline
    shame on the publisher

    1 out of 4 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted March 23, 2011

    dang

    dand dude i haven't read but now i guess i won't download it then thanks dude

    1 out of 9 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 4, 2014

    Good Character Story --more background to "Ender's Game" students!

    You see more about the different kids and their beliefs than you do in their Battle School life. You also see how kids can use what they know of others against them, which makes this tale relevant to many things one really experiences in life, while reading a scifi tale in a universe run by other rules than our own.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 24, 2013

    Hmmmm

    I have decided to give it a try as all the other books ive read by card have moving and wonderful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted November 16, 2012

    Waste of money

    A short stupid chapter at best. This is not a book and is a compleat wast of money. I'm very sad I bought this.

    0 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Posted September 9, 2011

    Bad...

    Not worth your time of day.

    0 out of 3 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted December 30, 2010

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    Posted August 25, 2010

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    Posted March 20, 2011

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  • Anonymous

    Posted January 23, 2011

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  • Anonymous

    Posted May 29, 2010

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  • Anonymous

    Posted July 12, 2014

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  • Anonymous

    Posted June 14, 2009

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  • Anonymous

    Posted October 21, 2010

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    Posted August 25, 2011

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    Posted February 22, 2011

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    Posted August 6, 2009

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See All Sort by: Showing 1 – 20 of 78 Customer Reviews

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