I grew up on C.S. Lewis, so the idea of dressing the mystery of Christianity in child-story form seems natural enough, but it's only half way through this book that the characters (both Quon and the children) experience need of redemption in a way a young reader might identify with. And even then it involves symbols of good and evil—blinding light and dark shadows, a majestic voice versus a snake like monsters—that will seem a bit shopworn, even to fourth graders. The author uses convincing dialogue, gives affectionate names to animals (such as "hollywobble" and "jiggywilbur") and is so engrossed with the narrative she is weaving that we genuinely want to believe it is real. There's also a very sweet ending. I have to add one thing that I have never said in any other review: Over the time I was reading this book I had very pleasant dreams at night.

In this land of iridescent arches of pink pearl inlaid with solid gold calligraphy or the unfriendly places of the city where children should never go (where men "in old torn clothing dug through the stinking garbage dumpsters looking for treasures—or a place to sleep.") the amateurish illustrations that mark each chapter of the book are negligible. However, the visit to a Black church and Amanda's need to "belong" convey unexpected psychological depth. I found this segment moving. The Reverend Joseph's sermon, which follows that chapter, at first seems overly preachy but proves to be excellent foreshadowing of the climactic battle that ends the book. And Quon promises to return.

In terms of characters, story and theme there are plenty of elements to build on here. I am hopeful future books in this series, free of the burdens borne by this one, will do just that. I too believe in redemption.