The Land of Decoration

by Grace McCleen

Genres: Coming of Age; Family Life; Literary Fiction

Synopsis

A New York Times Book Review Editors' Choice Winner of the Desmond Elliott Prize Judith and her father don't have much―their house is full of dusty relics, reminders of the mother she's never known. But Judith sees the world with the clear Eyes of Faith, and where others might see rubbish, Judith sees possibility. Bullied at school, she finds solace in making a model of the Promised Land―little people made from pipe cleaners, a sliver of moon, luminous stars, and a mirror sea―a world of wonder that Judith calls the Land of Decoration. Perhaps, she thinks, if she makes it snow indoors (using shaving cream and cotton balls and Scotch tape) there will be no school on Monday. Sure enough, when Judith opens her curtains the next day, the world beyond her window has turned white. She has performed her first miracle. And that's when her troubles begin. With its intensely taut storytelling and gorgeous prose, The Land of Decoration is a breathtaking story of good and evil, belief and doubt. Grace McCleen is a blazing new talent in contemporary literature.

Release date: March 27, 2012

Publisher: Henry Holt and Co.

Print pages: 320

Sample

The Empty Room


IN THE BEGINNING there was an empty room, a little bit of space, a little bit of light, a little bit of time.
I said: "I am going to make fields," and I made them from place mats, carpet, brown corduroy, and felt. Then I made rivers from crˆpe paper, plastic wrap, and shiny tinfoil, and mountains from papier mƒch‚ and bark. And I looked at the fields and I looked at the rivers and I looked at the mountains and I saw they were good.
I said: "Now for some light," and I made a sun from a wire metal cage strung with beads that hung down from above, I made a sliver of moon and luminous stars, and at the edge of the world I made a sea from a mirror, reflecting the sky and the boats and the birds and the land (where it touched). And I looked at the sun and I looked at the moon and I looked at the sea and I saw they were good.
I said: "What about homes?" And I made one from a ball of dry grass and one from a hollow tree stump and one from a barrel that toffees came in and I gave it a fishing line and sail and made space for a blanket and toothbrush and cup, and a stove, and put a gull high on the mast (which was really a broom handle) and launched it out on the sea (which was really a mirror).
I made houses from chocolate-dip-cookie cartons: the plastic scoop where the chocolate was, that was the bedroom, and the round room below, where the cookies had been, that was the living room. I made houses from a matchbox and a bird's nest and a pea pod and a shell. And I looked at the houses and saw they were good.
I said: "Now we need animals," and I made paper birds and wool rabbits and felt cats and dogs. I made furry bears, striped leopards, and fire-breathing, scale-crusted dragons. I made glittering fish and cockleshell crabs and birds on very thin wires.
Last I said: "We need people," and I modeled faces and hands, lips, teeth, and tongues. I dressed them and wigged them and breathed into their lungs.
And I looked at the people and I looked at the animals and I looked at the land. And I saw they were good.


Copyright c 2012 by Grace McCleen