"If you will only have one chance, you want to make it the best it can be," reflects the narrator of Newbery Medalist Voigt's (Dicey's Song) adventure centered around Fredle, a curious mouse whose family pushes him out of their kitchen nest after he ventures too far and becomes ill, a process of elimination called "went." "Went was the scariest thing any mouse could do, and the scariest word any mouse spoke or heard, and he had no idea what it was." Brought outside, Fredle begins a harrowing and transformative quest as he fends for himself, after he recovers, with help from a pair of field mice. Fredle's wonder at this new world proves compelling as he encounters the stars, moon, colors, flowers, and giant green stalks (grass), while confronting new predators including raccoons and snakes. Readers will identify with the universal conflict at the heart of Fredle's journey—even as he longs for home, he enjoys the newfound freedom and experiences that contrast with the restrictive regulations of his clan. Yates's expressive cartoon spot art counters the book's darker, sadder moments with cheeriness. Ages 8–12. (Jan.)
School Library Journal
Gr 3–5—Young Fredle, a kitchen mouse, spends his days sleeping in his cozy nest behind the kitchen pantry and his nights foraging for food with his family. When he eats too much chocolate and gets terribly sick, he is driven out of the kitchen and sent to "went," a place where sick mice go to die. Eventually Fredle finds himself outside, feeling much better, but now he must learn to survive in a world that he never knew existed. As the little mouse discovers the beauty of the outdoors, including the twinkling stars in the night sky and the colors and scents of grass and flowers, he also encounters new and dangerous predators—owls, snakes, and a pack of wily raccoons. Although he also meets new friends along the way, Fredle learns about loneliness and yearns to return to his family. So begins his adventure back to the kitchen. Wendy Carter brings Cynthia Voight's tale (Knopf, 2011) to life, giving appropriate voices to each character and making this heartwarming, poignant, and often humorous story one that is sure to be a treat for listeners.—Amy Joslyn, Fairport Public Library, NY
From the Publisher
"Move over, Stuart Little."
—Kirkus (starred review)
"The adventure is gripping . . . this is a writer at the top of her form, warm without sentimentality, wise without pretension."
—The Horn Book (starred review)
"Compelling . . . readers will identify with the universal conflict at the heart of Fredle's journey—even as he longs for home, he enjoys the newfound freedom."
Children's Literature - Peg Glisson
Young Fredle, a most curious kitchen mouse, overindulges on a peppermint patty while foraging one night, becomes ill, is pushed out of his family's nest, and then is swept outside by the Missus. Alone, in unfamiliar surroundings, and inept at life outside the house, he hovers in a stone wall, barely surviving. A field mouse, Bardo, takes on the task of keeping Fredle fed and teaching him about the worldits beauty and its many perils. Sun, grass, rain, flowers, cats, owls, raccoons, snakes are all unknowns, but Fredle slowly learns to safely navigate his new surroundings and enjoy things along the way. Yet, the longing to return to home and for his family grows within him and he cautiously, slowly, figures out how to get back inside with his family. Voigt does a marvelous job creating the world from a mouse's perspective; readers will enjoy figuring out what Fredle is describing as he encounters new things, like dew or the moon and will hold their breath as he tries to determine if an animal is friend or foe, avoid the cats, escape the raccoons, or navigate the riverbank. He revels in his freedom and discovery, distinctly opposite from his extended family's tendencies toward boundaries and rules. Yates' delicate and slightly whimsical line drawings add to the sense of discovery and adventure. Fitting in is a common theme of literature, as is the pull to explore new things versus the safety and belonging that comes with sticking with the status quo. Voigt explores them in depth, a plus and minus for this text. The story seems to be written for younger children (think Charlotte's Web or Stuart Little), but the language, pacing, and themes seem more appropriate for older children. Fredle is a character who stays with you and who should prompt thoughtful readers to ponder their place in the world. Reviewer: Peg Glisson
Unexpectedly cast into alien territory, an inquisitive mouse discovers the world's an amazing place in this classic home-away-home tale. Raised on a shelf, Fredle knows the strict survival rules for house mice, but he is shocked when he's tossed out after breaking a rule by overindulging in a peppermint pattie. House mice never go outside or live alone, and suddenly Fredle's both alone and outside. Initially panicked and desperately lonely, Fredle gradually nests under the back porch and unearths culinary treats in the compost pile. His senses overload as he savors grass, rain, sun, flowers and stars and flees from predatory cats, owls, raccoons and snakes. Seasoned by his adventures, Fredle returns home a different mouse, open to life's possibilities. Readers will experience the world from Fredle's mouse-eye perspective as he literally takes time to smell the flowers and gaze up at the stars. Move over, Stuart Little, while young Fredle takes his place beside other mouse luminaries and proves breaking rules isn't always bad. Expressive black-and-white spot art heightens the drama.(Animal fantasy. 8-12)
Read an Excerpt
Between the Walls
"I'm not finished foraging," Fredle protested. There was something on the floor behind the table leg. It didn't smell like food, but you could never be sure. Besides, if it wasn't food, Fredle wondered, what was it?
"That's metal," Axle said, adding, "Mice don't eat metal, Fredle," as if he didn't already know that.
"You're a poet and you don't know it," he snapped back, touching the round, thin disk with his nose. In the dim light of the nighttime kitchen, where all colors were dark, this thing gleamed as silver as the pipes in the cupboard under the sink. It smelled of humans. Fredle wondered what they might use it for, and why its edges were ridged. He wondered about the design on its surface. He'd never seen anything like it--was that a nose sticking out? An eye? And where was the body, if this was a head? He wondered, but he wasn't about to ask his cousin. Sometimes he got tired of knowing less and being bossed around. "Metal rhymes with Fredle," he explained, to irritate her.
"I'm not waiting around any longer," Axle announced, and she scurried off. Fredle planned to follow, just not right away. He tried licking the metal thing. Cool, and definitely not food. He raised his head and, ears cocked, peered into the darkness.
A mouse could never know what awaited him out in the kitchen. There might be crusts of bread or bits of cookies, chunks of crackers, forgotten carrot ends, or the tasteless thick brown lumps that sometimes rolled up against a wall, behind the stove, or under the humming refrigerator. There were brown things in the cat's bowl, too, if you were hungry enough, if you dared. On the pantry shelf there might be a smear of sweet honey on the side of a glass jar, or a cardboard box of oatmeal or cornflakes to be chewed through, and sometimes it was Cap'n Crunch, which was Fredle's personal favorite, although, as his mother often warned him, his sweet tooth was going to get him into trouble. In the kitchen there were drops of water clinging to the pipes in the cupboard under the sink, enough to satisfy everybody's thirst. In the kitchen, at night, you never knew what good surprises might be waiting.
However, any mouse out foraging in any kitchen knows to be afraid, and Fredle was no exception. He was out on the open floor under the kitchen table, with only one of its thick legs to hide behind, should the need arise. This flat, round metal thing was worthless, so Fredle moved on. He found a pea to nibble on and swallowed quickly, ears alert for any unmouselike sound, and wondered where Axle had gone off to. He knew better than to stop eating before he was entirely full. If you forage only at night, and always in great danger, you don't stop before you are full enough. Otherwise, you might have to wake early and wait a long, hungry time before the kitchen emptied and the mice could go out, foraging. Fredle would finish the pea before he ran off to find his cousin. He nibbled and chewed.
The dark silence snapped in half. The kitchen mice froze, and listened. Then they all dashed back to the small hole in one of the pantry doors, shoving and crowding one another to get to a place where the cat--alerted by the sound they all knew was a trap, closing--could not get at them. Only when he was safe on the pantry floor, behind the closed doors, did Fredle step aside and let the rest of the kitchen mice pass him by. He was waiting for Grandfather, who was old and slow. When Grandfather squeezed through the hole, the two of them climbed up between the walls together.
At their nest, the mice counted themselves--"Mother?" "Grandfather?" "Kortle?" "Kidle?" and on through all fifteen of them--and were breathing a collective sigh of relief when Uncle Dakle came peeping over the rim. "Is she here?" he asked. "Our Axle, is she with your Fredle?"
Went, they all thought, but nobody said it out loud. Right away they started to forget Axle. Fredle, although he knew it was against the rules, silently recalled everything he could about his cousin, the quick sound of her nails on the floorboards, the gleam of her white teeth when she yawned at one of Grandfather's stories, the proud lift of her tail. "Why--" he started to ask, because now he was wondering why they had to forget, as if a went mouse had never lived with them, but he was silenced by an odd sound, and there was something he smelled.?.?.?.
Everybody froze, as mice do when they are afraid, waiting motionless and, they hoped, invisible. Everybody listened. Was it a mouse sound they were hearing? It couldn't be a cat, could it? Something was scratching lightly along the floorboards. Was that breathing? What could smell like that? What if the cat had found a way in between the walls?
The voice was just a thin sound in the darkness, like wood creaking.
"Axle!" He scrambled up onto the rim of the nest.
"Stay where you are, Fredle," his mother said. "You don't know--"
But Fredle was already gone. He landed softly on the wide board on which their nests rested.
"Axle," Uncle Dakle asked. "Is that you?"
"Yes but I only want Fredle," came Axle's voice, still weak. "Go home and tell them I'm safe."
When Fredle got to Axle, she was huddled behind one of the thick pieces of wood that rose up into the darkness overhead, backed up against the lath-and-plaster wall. As soon as he got close, he asked, "Is that blood? Is that what blood smells like?"
"Dumb question," Axle said.
Without hesitating, as if he already knew what to do, Fredle started to lick at her wounded right ear. "What happened?" he asked.
"You and your questions," she said. Her voice was still pitched low, almost breathless. "If they see me they'll push me out to went, with all this blood."
Fredle knew she was right. A mouse who was wounded or sick, or too old or too weak to forage, was pushed out onto the pantry floor during the day and left there, never seen again, went. Nobody knew if the humans did it or the cat did it or something else, something unimaginable.
From the Hardcover edition.