Over Sea, under Stone (The Dark Is Rising Sequence Series #1)

Over Sea, under Stone (The Dark Is Rising Sequence Series #1)

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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780689840357
Publisher: Margaret K. McElderry Books
Publication date: 11/01/2000
Series: Dark Is Rising Sequence Series , #1
Edition description: Repackage
Pages: 304
Sales rank: 63,574
Product dimensions: 5.12(w) x 7.62(h) x 0.90(d)
Lexile: 830L (what's this?)
Age Range: 9 - 14 Years

About the Author

Susan Cooper is the recipient of the Margaret A. Edwards Award for Lifetime Achievement. Her classic five-book fantasy sequence The Dark Is Rising won the Newbery Medal and a Newbery Honor and has sold millions of copies worldwide. She is also the author of Victory, a Booklist Top 10 Historical Fiction for Youth book and a Washington Post Top 10 for Children novel; King of Shadows, a Boston Globe-Horn Book Award Honor book; The Boggart; Seaward; and many other acclaimed novels for young readers. She lives in Massachusetts. 

Alex Jennings is an English actor whose roles have included Charles, Prince of Wales in The Queen. He’s narrated The Dark Is Rising Sequence series by Susan Cooper.

Read an Excerpt

Over Sea, Under Stone • Chapter One •
“Where is he?”

Barney hopped from one foot to the other as he clambered down from the train, peering in vain through the white-faced crowds flooding eagerly to the St Austell ticket barrier. “Oh, I can’t see him. Is he there?”

“Of course he’s there,” Simon said, struggling to clutch the long canvas bundle of his father’s fishing rods. “He said he’d meet us. With a car.”

Behind them, the big diesel locomotive hooted like a giant owl, and the train began to move out.

“Stay where you are a minute,” Father said, from a barricade of suitcases. “Merry won’t vanish. Let people get clear.”

Jane sniffed ecstatically. “I can smell the sea!”

“We’re miles from the sea,” Simon said loftily.

“I don’t care. I can smell it.”

“Trewissick’s five miles from St Austell, Great-Uncle Merry said.”

“Oh, where is he?” Barney still jigged impatiently on the dusty grey platform, glaring at the disappearing backs that masked his view. Then suddenly he stood still, gazing downwards. “Hey—look.”

They looked. He was staring at a large black suitcase among the forest of shuffling legs.

“What’s so marvellous about that?” Jane said.

Then they saw that the suitcase had two brown pricked ears and a long waving brown tail. Its owner picked it up and moved away, and the dog which had been behind it was left standing there alone, looking up and down the platform. He was a long, rangy, lean dog, and where the sunlight shafted down on his coat it gleamed dark red.

Barney whistled, and held out his hand.

“Darling, no,” said his mother plaintively, clutching at the bunch of paint-brushes that sprouted from her pocket like a tuft of celery.

But even before Barney whistled, the dog had begun trotting in their direction, swift and determined, as if he were recognizing old friends. He loped round them in a circle, raising his long red muzzle to each in turn, then stopped beside Jane, and licked her hand.

“Isn’t he gorgeous?” Jane crouched beside him, and ruffled the long silky fur of his neck.

“Darling, be careful,” Mother said. “He’ll get left behind. He must belong to someone over there.”

“I wish he belonged to us.”

“So does he,” Barney said. “Look.”

He scratched the red head, and the dog gave a throaty half-bark of pleasure.

“No,” Father said.

The crowds were thinning now, and through the barrier they could see clear blue sky out over the station yard.

“His name’s on his collar,” Jane said, still down beside the dog’s neck. She fumbled with the silver tab on the heavy strap. “It says Rufus. And something else . . . Trewissick. Hey, he comes from the village!”

But as she looked up, suddenly the others were not there. She jumped to her feet and ran after them into the sunshine, seeing in an instant what they had seen: the towering familiar figure of Great-Uncle Merry, out in the yard, waiting for them.

They clustered round him, chattering like squirrels round the base of a tree. “Ah, there you are,” he said casually, looking down at them from beneath his bristling white eyebrows with a slight smile.

“Cornwall’s wonderful,” Barney said, bubbling.

“You haven’t seen it yet,” said Great-Uncle Merry. “How are you, Ellen, my dear?” He bent and aimed a brief peck at Mother’s cheek. He treated her always as though he had forgotten that she had grown up. Although he was not her real uncle, but only a friend of her father, he had been close to the family for so many years that it never occurred to them to wonder where he had come from in the first place.

Nobody knew very much about Great-Uncle Merry, and nobody ever quite dared to ask. He did not look in the least like his name. He was tall, and straight, with a lot of very thick, wild, white hair. In his grim brown face the nose curved fiercely, like a bent bow, and the eyes were deep-set and dark.

How old he was, nobody knew. “Old as the hills,” Father said, and they felt, deep down, that this was probably right. There was something about Great-Uncle Merry that was like the hills, or the sea, or the sky; something ancient, but without age or end.

Always, wherever he was, unusual things seemed to happen. He would often disappear for a long time, and then suddenly come through the Drews’ front door as if he had never been away, announcing that he had found a lost valley in South America, a Roman fortress in France, or a burned Viking ship buried on the English coast. The newspapers would publish enthusiastic stories of what he had done. But by the time the reporters came knocking at the door, Great-Uncle Merry would be gone, back to the dusty peace of the university where he taught. They would wake up one morning, go to call him for breakfast, and find that he was not there. And then they would hear no more of him until the next time, perhaps months later, that he appeared at the door. It hardly seemed possible that this summer, in the house he had rented for them in Trewissick, they would be with him in one place for four whole weeks.

The sunlight glinting on his white hair, Great-Uncle Merry scooped up their two biggest suitcases, one under each arm, and strode across the yard to a car.

“What d’you think of that?” he demanded proudly.

Following, they looked. It was a vast, battered estate car, with rusting mudguards and peeling paint, and mud caked on the hubs of the wheels. A wisp of steam curled up from the radiator.

“Smashing!” said Simon.

“Hmmmmmm,” Mother said.

“Well, Merry,” Father said cheerfully, “I hope you’re well insured.”

Great-Uncle Merry snorted. “Nonsense. Splendid vehicle. I hired her from a farmer. She’ll hold us all, anyway. In you get.”

Jane glanced regretfully back at the station entrance as she clambered in after the rest. The red-haired dog was standing on the pavement watching them, long pink tongue dangling over white teeth.

Great-Uncle Merry called: “Come on, Rufus.”

“Oh!” Barney said in delight, as a flurry of long legs and wet muzzle shot through the door and knocked him sideways. “Does he belong to you?”

“Heaven forbid,” Great-Uncle Merry said. “But I suppose he’ll belong to you three for the next month. The captain couldn’t take him abroad, so Rufus goes with the Grey House.” He folded himself into the driving seat.

“The Grey House?” Simon said. “Is that what it’s called? Why?”

“Wait and see.”

The engine gave a hiccup and a roar, and then they were away. Through the streets and out of the town they thundered in the lurching car, until hedges took the place of houses; thick, wild hedges growing high and green as the road wound uphill, and behind them the grass sweeping up to the sky. And against the sky they saw nothing but lonely trees, stunted and bowed by the wind that blew from the sea, and yellow-grey outcrops of rock.

“There you are,” Great-Uncle Merry shouted, over the noise. He turned his head and waved one arm away from the steering-wheel, so that Father moaned softly and hid his eyes. “Now you’re in Cornwall. The real Cornwall. Logres is before you.”

The clatter was too loud for anyone to call back.

“What’s he mean, Logres?” demanded Jane.

Simon shook his head, and the dog licked his ear.

“He means the land of the West,” Barney said unexpectedly, pushing back the forelock of fair hair that always tumbled over his eyes. “It’s the old name for Cornwall. King Arthur’s name.”

Simon groaned. “I might have known.”

Ever since he had learned to read, Barney’s greatest heroes had been King Arthur and his knights. In his dreams he fought imaginary battles as a member of the Round Table, rescuing fair ladies and slaying false knights. He had been longing to come to the West Country; it gave him a strange feeling that he would in some way be coming home. He said, resentfully: “You wait. Great-Uncle Merry knows.”

And then, after what seemed a long time, the hills gave way to the long blue line of the sea, and the village was before them.

Trewissick seemed to be sleeping beneath its grey, slate-tiled roofs, along the narrow winding streets down the hill. Silent behind their lace-curtained windows, the little square houses let the roar of the car bounce back from their whitewashed walls. Then Great-Uncle Merry swung the wheel round, and suddenly they were driving along the edge of the harbour, past water rippling and flashing golden in the afternoon sun. Sailing-dinghies bobbed at their moorings along the quay, and a whole row of the Cornish fishing boats that they had seen only in pictures painted by their mother years before: stocky workmanlike boats, each with a stubby mast and a small square engine-house in the stern.

Nets hung dark over the harbour walls, and a few fishermen, hefty, brown-faced men in long boots that reached their thighs, glanced up idly as the car passed. Two or three grinned at Great-Uncle Merry, and waved.

“Do they know you?” Simon said curiously.

But Great-Uncle Merry, who could become very deaf when he chose not to answer a question, only roared on along the road that curved up the hill, high over the other side of the harbour, and suddenly stopped. “Here we are,” he said.

In the abrupt silence, their ears still numb from the thundering engine, they all turned from the sea to look at the other side of the road.

They saw a terrace of houses sloping sideways up the steep hill; and in the middle of them, rising up like a tower, one tall narrow house with three rows of windows and a gabled roof. A sombre house, painted dark-grey, with the door and windowframes shining white. The roof was slate-tiled, a high blue-grey arch facing out across the harbour to the sea.

“The Grey House,” Great-Uncle Merry said.

They could smell a strangeness in the breeze that blew faintly on their faces down the hill; a beckoning smell of salt and seaweed and excitement.

As they unloaded suitcases from the car, with Rufus darting in excited frenzy through everyone’s legs, Simon suddenly clutched Jane by the arm. “Gosh—look!”

He was looking out to sea, beyond the harbour mouth. Along his pointed finger, Jane saw the tall graceful triangle of a yacht under full sail, moving lazily in towards Trewissick.

“Pretty,” she said, with only mild enthusiasm. She did not share Simon’s passion for boats.

“She’s a beauty. I wonder whose she is?” Simon stood watching, entranced. The yacht crept nearer, her sails beginning to flap; and then the tall white mainsail crumpled and dropped. They heard the rattle of rigging, very faint across the water, and the throaty cough of an engine.

“Mother says we can go down and look at the harbour before supper,” Barney said, behind them. “Coming?”

“Course. Will Great-Uncle Merry come?”

“He’s going to put the car away.”

They set off down the road leading to the quay, beside a low grey wall with tufts of grass and pink valerian growing between its stones. In a few paces Jane found she had forgotten her handkerchief, and she ran back to retrieve it from the car. Scrabbling on the floor by the back seat, she glanced up and stared for a moment through the windscreen, surprised.

Great-Uncle Merry, coming back towards the car from the Grey House, had suddenly stopped in his tracks in the middle of the road. He was gazing down at the sea; and she realised that he had caught sight of the yacht. What startled her was the expression on his face. Standing there like a craggy towering statue, he was frowning, fierce and intense, almost as if he were looking and listening with senses other than his eyes and ears. He could never look frightened, she thought, but this was the nearest thing to it that she had ever seen. Cautious, startled, alarmed . . . what was the matter with him? Was there something strange about the yacht?

Then he turned and went quickly back into the house, and Jane emerged thoughtfully from the car to follow the boys down the hill.

• • •

The harbour was almost deserted. The sun was hot on their faces, and they felt the warmth of the stone quayside strike at their feet through their sandal soles. In the center, in front of tall wooden warehouse doors, the quay jutted out square into the water, and a great heap of empty boxes towered above their heads. Three sea-gulls walked tolerantly to the edge, out of their way. Before them, a small forest of spars and ropes swayed; the tide was only half high, and the decks of the moored boats were down below the quayside, out of sight.

“Hey,” Simon said, pointing through the harbour entrance. “That yacht’s come in, look. Isn’t she marvellous?”

The slim white boat sat at anchor beyond the harbour wall, protected from the open sea by the headland on which the Grey House stood.

Jane said: “Do you think there is anything odd about her?”

“Odd? Why should there be?”

“Oh—I don’t know.”

“Perhaps she belongs to the harbour-master,” Barney said.

“Places this size don’t have harbour-masters, you little fathead, only ports like Father went to in the navy.”

“Oh yes they do, cleversticks, there’s a little black door on the corner over there, marked Harbour-Master’s Office.” Barney hopped triumphantly up and down, and frightened a sea-gull away. It ran a few steps and then flew off, flapping low over the water and bleating into the distance.

“Oh well,” Simon said amiably, shoving his hands in his pockets and standing with his legs apart, rocking on his heels, in his captain-on-the bridge stance. “One up. Still, that boat must belong to someone pretty rich. You could cross the Channel in her, or even the Atlantic.”

“Ugh,” said Jane. She swam as well as anybody, but she was the only member of the Drew family who disliked the open sea. “Fancy crossing the Atlantic in a thing that size.”

Simon grinned wickedly. “Smashing. Great big waves picking you up and bringing you down swoosh, everything falling about, pots and pans upsetting in the galley, and the deck going up and down, up and down—”

“You’ll make her sick,” Barney said calmly.

“Rubbish. On dry land, out here in the sun?”

“Yes, you will, she looks a bit green already. Look.”

“I don’t.”

“Oh yes you do. I can’t think why you weren’t ill in the train like you usually are. Just think of those waves in the Atlantic, and the mast swaying about, and nobody with an appetite for their breakfast except me. . . .”

“Oh shut up, I’m not going to listen”—and poor Jane turned and ran round the side of the mountain of fishy-smelling boxes, which had probably been having more effect on her imagination than the thought of the sea.

“Girls!” said Simon cheerfully.

There was suddenly an ear-splitting crash from the other side of the boxes, a scream, and a noise of metal jingling on concrete. Simon and Barney gazed horrified at one another for a moment, and rushed round to the other side.

Jane was lying on the ground with a bicycle on top of her, its front wheel still spinning round. A tall dark-haired boy lay sprawled across the quay not far away. A box of tins and packets of food had spilled from the bicycle carrier, and milk was trickling in a white puddle from a broken bottle splintered glittering in the sun.

The boy scrambled to his feet, glaring at Jane. He was all in navy-blue, his trousers tucked into Wellington boots; he had a short, thick neck and a strangely flat face, twisted now with ill temper.

“Look where ’ee’s goin’, can’t ’ee?” he snarled, the Cornish accent made ugly by anger. “Git outa me way.”

He jerked the bicycle upright, taking no heed of Jane; the pedal caught her ankle and she winced with pain.

“It wasn’t my fault,” she said, with some spirit, “You came rushing up without looking where you were going.”

Barney crossed to her in silence and helped her to her feet. The boy sullenly began picking up his spilled tins and slamming them back into the box. Jane picked one up to help. But as she reached it towards the box the boy knocked her hand away, sending the tin spinning across the quay.

“Leave ’n alone,” he growled.

“Look here,” Simon said indignantly, “there’s no need for that.”

“Shut y’ mouth,” said the boy shortly, without even looking up.

“Shut your own,” Simon said belligerently.

“Oh Simon, don’t,” Jane said unhappily. “If he wants to be beastly let him.” Her leg was stinging viciously, and blood trickled down from a graze on her knee. Simon looked at her flushed face, hearing the strain in her voice. He bit his lip.

The boy pushed his bicycle to lean against the pile of boxes, scowling at Barney as he jumped nervously out of the way; then rage suddenly snarled out of him again. “—off, the lot of ’ee,” he snapped; they had never heard the word he used, but the tone was unmistakable, and Simon went hot with resentment and clenched his fists to lunge forward. But Jane clutched him back, and the boy moved quickly to the edge of the quay and climbed down over the edge, facing them, the box of groceries in his arms. They heard a thumping, clattering noise, and looking over the edge they saw him lurching about in a rowing-dinghy. He untied its mooring-rope from a ring in the wall and began edging out through the other boats into the open harbour, standing up with one oar thrust down over the stern. Moving hastily and angrily, he clouted the dinghy hard against the side of one of the big fishing-boats, but took no notice. Soon he was out in open water, sculling rapidly, one-handed, and glaring back at them in sneering contempt.

As he did so they heard a clatter of feet moving rapidly over hollow wood from inside the injured fishing-boat. A small, wizened figure popped up suddenly from a hatch in the deck and waved its arms about in fury, shouting over the water towards the boy in a surprisingly deep voice.

The boy deliberately turned his back, still sculling, and the dinghy disappeared outside the harbour entrance, round the jutting wall.

The little man shook his fist, then turned towards the quay, leaping neatly from the deck of one boat to another, until he reached the ladder in the wall and climbed up by the children’s feet. He wore the inevitable navy-blue jersey and trousers, with long boots reaching up his legs.

“Clumsy young limb, that Bill ‘Oover,” he said crossly. “Wait’ll I catch ’n, that’s all, just wait,”

Then he seemed to realize that the children were more than just part of the quay. He grunted, flashing a quick glance at their tense faces, and the blood on Jane’s knee. “Thought I heard voices from below,” he said, more gently. “You been ’avin’ trouble with ’n?” He jerked his head out to sea.

“He knocked my sister over with his bike,” Simon said indignantly. “It was my fault really, I made her run into him, but he was beastly rude and he bashed Jane’s hand away and—and then he went off before I could hit him,” he ended lamely.

The old fisherman smiled at them. “Ah well, don’t ’ee take no count of ’n. He’m a bad lot, that lad, evil-tempered as they come and evil-minded with ut. You keep away from ’n.”

“We shall,” Jane said with feeling, rubbing her leg gingerly.

The fisherman clicked his tongue. “That’s a nasty old cut you got there, midear, you want to go and get ’n washed up. You’m on holiday here, I dessay.”

“We’re staying in the Grey House,” Simon said. “Up there on the hill,”

The fisherman glanced at him quickly, a flicker of interest passing over the impassive brown wrinkled face. “Are ’ee, then? I wonder maybe”—then he stopped short, strangely, as if he were quickly changing his mind about what he had been going to say. Simon, puzzled, waited for him to go on. But Barney, who had not been listening, turned round from where he had been peering over the edge of the quay.

“Is that your boat out there?”

The fisherman looked at him, half taken aback and half amused, as he would have looked at some small unexpected animal that barked. “That’s right, me ’andsome. The one I just come off.”

“Don’t the other fishermen mind you jumping over their boats?”

The old man laughed, a cheerful rusty noise. “I’d’n no other way to get ashore from there. Nobody minds you comin’ across their boat, so long’s you don’t mark ’er.”

“Are you going out fishing?”

“Not for a while, midear,” said the fisherman amiably, pulling a piece of dirty rag from his pocket and scrubbing at the oil-marks on his hands. “Go out with sundown, we do, and come back with the dawn.”

Barney beamed. “I shall get up early and watch you come in.”

“Believe that when I see ’n,” said the fisherman with a twinkle. “Now look, you run and take your little sister home and wash that leg, don’t know what scales and muck have got into it off here.” He scuffed at the quay with his glistening boot.

“Yes, come on, Jane,” Simon said. He took one more look out at the quiet line of boats; then put up his hand to peer into the sun. “I say, that oaf with the bicycle, he’s going on board the yacht!”

Jane and Barney looked.

Out beyond the far harbour wall, a dark shape was bobbing against the long white hull of the silent yacht. They could just see the boy climbing up the side, and two figures meeting him on the deck. Then all three disappeared, and the boat lay deserted again.

“Ah,” said the fisherman. “So that’s it. Young Bill were buying stores and petrol and all, yesterday, enough for a navy, but nobody couldn’t get it out of him who they was for. Tidy old boat, that’n—cruisin’, I suppose. Can’t see what he made all the mystery about.”

He began to walk along the quay: a rolling small figure with the folded tops of his boots slapping his legs at every step. Barney trotted beside him, talking earnestly, and rejoined the others at the corner as the old man, waving to them, turned off towards the village.

“His name’s Mr. Penhallow, and his boat’s called the White Heather. He says they got a hundred stone of pilchard last night, and they’ll get more tomorrow because it’s going to rain.”

“One day you’ll ask too many questions,” said Jane.

“Rain?” said Simon incredulously, looking up at the blue sky.

“That’s what he said.”

“Rubbish. He must be nuts.”

“I bet he’s right. Fishermen always know things, specially Cornish fishermen. You ask Great-Uncle Merry.”

• • •

But Great-Uncle Merry, when they sat down to their first supper in the Grey House, was not there; only their parents, and the beaming red-cheeked village woman, Mrs Palk, who was to come in every day to help with the cooking and cleaning. Great-Uncle Merry had gone away.

“He must have said something,” Jane said.

Father shrugged. “Not really. He just muttered about having to go and look for something and roared off in the car like a thunderbolt.”

“But we’ve only just got here,” Simon said, hurt.

“Never mind,” Mother said comfortably. “You know what he is. He’ll be back in his own good time.”

Barney gazed dreamily at the Cornish pasties Mrs Palk had made for their supper. “He’s gone on a quest. He might take years and years. You can search and search, on a quest, and in the end you may never get there at all.”

“Quest my foot,” Simon said irritably. “He’s just gone chasing after some stupid old tomb in a church, or something. Why couldn’t he have told us?”

“I expect he’ll be back in the morning,” Jane said. She looked out of the window, across the low grey wall edging the road. The light was beginning to die, and as the sun sank behind their headland the sea was turning to a dark grey-green, and slow mist creeping into the harbour. Through the growing haze she saw a dim shape move, down on the water, and above it a brief flash of light; first a red pinprick in the gloom, and then a green, and white points of light above both. And she sat up suddenly as she realized that what she could see was the mysterious white yacht, moving out of Trewissick harbour as silently and strangely as it had come.

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"Beautifully told...superbly written." — New York Times on The Dark Is Rising Sequence

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Over Sea, Under Stone 4.1 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 66 reviews.
Guest More than 1 year ago
Once I opened this book, magic began! OVER SEA, UNDER STONE is simply marvelous! Simon, Jane and Barney are so well devoleped that they seem real. I cannot wait to read the other books in THE DARK IS RISING SEQUENCE. Bravo to Susan Cooper for a job well done! This book is pure magic.
Guest More than 1 year ago
Old England, mystery, King Arther! What more could the perfect book have? I LOVE Susan Cooper's books. I am a huge fan of hers:-)
Guest More than 1 year ago
Susan Cooper's Over Sea, Under Stone is a really exciting book. I never wanted to put it down!
Guest More than 1 year ago
This book is extremely cool. Once you pick in up it is nearly impossible to put it back down again until the ending- I finished it in one day. I would definantly recommend it to anyone!
Guest More than 1 year ago
Over Sea, Under Stone is a great book if you like adventure and tense type books. I thought it was well written and thought of. It is best for children in grades 4-7.
jfoster_sf on LibraryThing 5 months ago
Listened to this on audio-it was great! I'd recommend it for family car trips, or read aloud as a family, or buy yourself if you like, but I definitely recommend it.
kraaivrouw on LibraryThing 5 months ago
This is a lovely beginning to a wonderful series. I was fortunate enough to have read these several times as a kid and now several times as an adult. They are always pleasing and are among the books I wish I could re-read for the very first time.This first book in the series is a very British sort of story with a collection of children on holiday in Cornwall who have an adventure that involves finding the Holy Grail. Yes, that Holy Grail. It's wonderfully well written and intricately plotted and the characters are so very real that you can't help but fall in love with them. The Drew children are not your typical icons of perfection that you often find in this type of literature. They are cranky and fight amongst themselves and put things where they shouldn't and make each other laugh and do all the silly things that all children do. Combine that with their rather absent-minded parents, the mysterious and wonderful Great Uncle Merriman (sort of a Great Uncle, but sort of not - they call him Gumerry), and assorted evil doers and you've got a delightful and imminently readable story.
the_hag on LibraryThing 5 months ago
It¿s summer, the Drew Family (Simon, Jane and Barney, along with their parents) take a vacation in a small fishing village in Cornwall, renting ¿The Grey House¿ (owned by an eccentric and absent sea captain) and meeting up with their Great Uncle Merriman (who is renting The Grey House). On a rainy day the children set out to explore the house (sheer boredom drives them to explore the house as if they were exploring a distant land¿an adventure worthy of a rainy afternoon. Since the various chests and cupboards are off limits (if it¿s locked, it¿s out of bounds), the children find themselves a secret door to the attic and begin searching, hoping to discover treasure within. In a dark and forgotten corner, treasure is just what they find¿and once they¿ve found that, they are off on a madcap adventure which puts all of them endanger, but which promises a truly amazing prize! What follows is pretty much standard stock for this type of story¿parents are called away (in this case meeting up with an old friend), taking off for an unexpected visit, effectively leaving the children sans guardians and free to ramble about in search of adventure. I actually (accidentally) read The Dark is Rising prior to reading this, the first book in The Dark is Rising Sequence, so I was surprised to find this particular volume of the sequence largely bereft of the magic and wonder present in the second volume. To my way of thinking, this is a much simpler, less complex book, more in the vein of Nancy Drew¿there is danger aplenty and the children must save themselves and solve the mystery before the ¿bad guys¿ do. The only difference is the children have found a map and text accompanying it suggesting it¿s of ancient origin and related to King Arthur¿so it¿s a slightly more mythic quest than the typical Nancy Drew mystery¿but it has that same feel, nonetheless. This book was first published in 1965 and as such it does seem to hearken back to a simpler time and one wonders what sort of story this would be given all the modern technology available to us these days¿still, Over Sea, Under Stone has a rather timeless quality to it and still appeals to a children (and adults) 30+ years later! I particularly like that the children are well drawn, independent and not at all interchangeable (as often happens in this type of story). Additionally, I found the villains here (and they are to be found everywhere, even in the most unexpected places) to be quite, well, villainous! They are cold, calculating and bent on getting their hands on the map and the treasure at any cost¿they are charming on the surface, but there is clearly something dark and dangerous seething just under that cleverly polished façade! I found Over Sea, Under Stone to be entertaining, interesting, and quite an exciting little adventure, but also felt that it related very little to the second book and I am wondering how it will all tie together (or if it does at all) as the sequence continues. Overall, I give it 4 stars¿at this point in my reading, I don¿t see how it fist with the continuation of the story but I¿m definitely looking forward to reading the rest of the series to find out.
reannon on LibraryThing 5 months ago
First in a fantasy series centered on King Arthur, although the first one takes place in Cornwall in the 1960s (It was writtent then) about 3 children searching for Arthur's grail. Rather slow-moving by today's standards, but good.
babydraco on LibraryThing 5 months ago
Um. I'd heard many times that I needed to read these books, because they were influential classics in a genre I tend to adore. So I finally broke down and got the first three books in cheap paperback. And...there's a problem.Every time I go to read them, my eyes just slide off the page. Reading these books is difficult and painful on some weird level and it's a level that has nothing to do with length or vocabulary because these are children's books. I am simply having difficultly focusing on them. The minute I pick them up to resume reading, like I said, my eyes slide off the page. My mind wanders. I had almost reached the end of this first book, after struggling to read it all day, and when I realized I'd have to put the book down I was *relieved*. The weirdest part is that I was just talking to someone else who said this kept happening to them too, they've tried about three or four times to finish this series and never have. Well, I guess I'll attempt the second book now.
TadAD on LibraryThing 5 months ago
Chronologically the first of the series, I think it should be read second after you are introduced to the story in The Dark Is Rising. This doesn't cause a problem as this volume has a slightly different set of characters as its focus. It's the weakest of the five books...merely a very good book.
rocalisa on LibraryThing 5 months ago
I actually reread this only a year ago, and I was planning to move on to the next book in the series, The Dark is Rising, when my library got both books on CD. The temptation was too great and I went back to the beginning again to listen to Over Sea, Under Stone before moving on to the second book.I admit that I don't think this is the strongest book in the series. It's a good place to start - more of a children's adventure/treasure hunt than the detailed exploration of good vs. evil and deeper powers that the later books become. But it's a great story all the same as Simon, Jane and Barney spend their summer holiday searching for the Holy Grail in Cornwall. It's a well-written, well-told story that stands the test of time nicely. Yes, you can tell it isn't written about modern children, but that just helps set it into its own place in history rather than making it either old-fashioned or unreadable.By listening to the audiobook (very nicely narrated by Alex Jennings), it took me a lot longer to get through than it would have done if I was reading the book. That made the story a little disjointed for me and I lowered the grade for that, but the story itself remains excellent and I highly recommend both Over Sea, Under Stone (I just love that title) and the entrie Dark is Rising sequence to any reader.Over Sea, Under StoneSusan CooperThe Dark is Rising, Book 1Audiobook8/10
bookwyrmm on LibraryThing 5 months ago
I had forgotten how much I love older - British - fantasies until I started reading this. The mood set with the twisty, secretive Grey House is just right for a fantasy adventure, especially when you through in the enigma of a great-uncle and the mysterious strangers. An excellent read, but slower than more modern YA fantasies.
lycomayflower on LibraryThing 5 months ago
In this young adult novel, three children staying in Cornwall for their summer holidays discover a manuscript which leads them to the Holy Grail. Their great uncle Merry helps and protects them in their quest, and they must avoid the dangerous "enemies" who seek the grail for their own evil purposes. Well-written and nicely atmospheric. A fun, sometimes cozy, sometimes creepy read with a fair amount of real adventure. Perhaps a bit anti-climactic with regards to the identity of the enemies and the importance of the grail. But I scampered to the library to snatch up the rest of the sequence before even finishing this one, and I'm looking forward to seeing how Cooper carries on with this story.
Steph78 on LibraryThing 5 months ago
Having re read this for the first time in very many years, I was pleasantly surprised by how well IT stood up to my memory of it. I'm looking forward to reading the next in the sequence, as this was one of those books that gave me nightmares in childhood, partly because of the scary cover on my sister's copy!
bookworm12 on LibraryThing 5 months ago
This is the first book in the Dark is Rising series. Three siblings, Simon, Barney and Jane Drew, visit their Uncle Merry in Cornwall and find a treasure map. A lot of the book is clearly setting the scene for the rest of the series, but it's still a fun adventure. I wish we got to know Uncle Merry a bit better, but his frequent absence just adds to his mysteriousness. It definitely got me interested enough to read the next book in the series, which I've heard is great. It's an easy to read story that I enjoyed.
MissTeacher on LibraryThing 5 months ago
Alright... I was very excited about adding this book and then immediately seeing it at the library. I thought perhaps I could use it with my 6th grade class towards the beginning of the year when they study mythology. I wasn't really thinking about myself and my love of Arthurian legend and secret quests--and therein lies my problem. I approached this book in the mindset of a 6th grade ESL student just learning about mythology and the Dark Ages and the wider world out there... and I found it incredibly dull. There was hardly no action--only when they found a cave was my interest piqued, and even that was a pretty bland climax. And it seemed as if the entire book lead up to a step of the quest the characters probably could have completed halfway through the rising action. And I'm not sure how the dialect is written since I listened to the audio version, but that could be a major hazard to English Language Learners.So in short, I hope with all my hopes that the next books in this series are more exciting and actually delve into the fantasy of Arthurian lore. As a stand-alone book, I couldn't even call Over Sea, Under Stone fantasy. Just a very slow mystery. There's promise there, for me at least. As far as my students are concerned, unfortunately, this is a big pass.
callmecayce on LibraryThing 5 months ago
I was surprised and excited to find the Dark is Rising series is available on Overdrive and so I immediately started listening to the first book. I'd read them before, once when I was young and then at least one more time since I've become an adult. But listening to them is like hearing them for the first time. I found myself falling in love, all over again, with the story and the characters. Barney, Simon and Jane are some of the best adventurers and Peter Jennings brings them alive beautifully. But what I especially like is his voice for Great Uncle Merry. The adventure to find the grail was fun and when the bad things happened to all the characters, I was actually quite tense. I also like the Jane is a strong character, and remains so throughout the novel.
tjsjohanna on LibraryThing 5 months ago
I'm coming to this series rather late, but I quite enjoyed the adventures these children had, following an ancient map and discovering the lost Holy Grail of King Arthur. I'm anxious to see what they will be up to in the next book.
sonyagreen on LibraryThing 5 months ago
Not as fantastic as Dark Is Rising, it's more like a great prequel. I'd read it after the rest of the books, if I were you.

There's zero magic (at least overtly), so it's like the beginning of Lion, Witch, and the Wardrobe, but with more problem/puzzle-solving. L,W,W+Chasing Vermeer.
PhoebeReading on LibraryThing 5 months ago
My initial reaction was that this felt well-worn: a Lewisian family of British children, summering in Cornwall, find a mysterious passageway behind a wardrobe. However, my initial reaction was dead wrong. The characters here are exceedingly well-drawn. The Drew children are bratty, catty, prone to shortness of breath and leg cramps. They're incredibly real, something that's all-too-lacking in a lot of children's fantasy literature. Barney, the youngest, with an Arthurian obsession, is especially believable. The pacing of this novel is great to boot, suspenseful, scary, and includes an especially riveting chase scene. I can't wait to read the rest of this series.
dk_phoenix on LibraryThing 5 months ago
I read this for a group read, as it was a great excuse to finally get around to picking it up. It sat on my shelf for years, forlorn and neglected... along with the rest of the books that come afterward. Without giving too much away, I have to say that if this is the weakest book in the series, as others here have suggested, I am very much looking forward to reading the rest of them.I am intrigued, of course, by the author's writing gap between this book and the next, but I assume it all works together somehow in the end.On the whole, I thought the book moved slowly at first - we didn't really get into the meat of the story until a little beyond halfway through - but it was still interesting enough to keep me reading. Enough questions are raised that you simply can't stop... mind you, at the end of the book, there are still enough questions left open that you may sigh in frustration, but the good news is that Cooper came back to the series and wrote 4 (5?) more books.Pick this one up! It's quick, entertaining, and there are even better installments when you've finished this one.
RebeccaAnn on LibraryThing 5 months ago
Three siblings, Simon, Jane, and Barney, find an old map whilst visiting their Uncle Merry. Though at first there doesn't seem to be anything special about it. However, they soon realize there are many people out there willing to do just about anything to get that map. They have to find out what it means before it falls into the wrong hands...I really enjoyed this book. It was entertaining and I found the pace just about right. Lots of action with a perfect dispersal of resting points so you can take a break if need be. There was one particular chase scene between Simon and Bill that I just found absolutely breathtaking. For me, that was my favorite part of the entire book. I loved that this wasn't a conventional fantasy (though it did have a bit of a Narnia feel to it, what with the children finding the source of the adventure right within their own home and whatnot). There's no grand adventure, but rather everything just takes place within one town, which I also liked. And they had a dog. I'm very fond of dogs and Rufus was just adorable.The only thing I didn't like about the book was the ending. It felt a bit rushed to me. It also gave the book too much of a prologue feel to it. I know this is just the first book in a series of five, but that doesn't mean it shouldn't be a self-contained story, and that's what I thought the entire story was missing: a proper ending. Although from what I've heard, it fits with the next four books so really, it's a small complaint. I'm eager to start in on book #2!
juglicerr on LibraryThing 5 months ago
Library of Congress summary: Three children on a holiday in Cornwall find an ancient manuscript which sends them on a dangerous quest for a grail that would reveal the true story of King Arthur and that traps them in the eternal battle between the forces of the Light and the forces of the Dark.
whiteknight50 on LibraryThing 5 months ago
Susan Cooper is a wonderful writer, whose The Dark is Rising series brings a wonderful, fantasy bent to the Aurthurian Legends. A book I reread after nearly twenty years, and it stood the test of time! If you haven't read Susan Coopers series, I recommend it! This book of the series is not as strong as later books, but it is a fine, fun book to read, and it sets the stage for later, more compelling writing in later books.