Ferris
Toward the end of Kate DiCamillo’s children’s novel Ferris, Mr. Buoy, the elderly hardware store owner comments, “Yes indeed, there is a way out of every locked box.” Though he is actually talking about Harry Houdini, his comment might equally be applied to the snarled ruckus of tangles and twisted together plotlines that make up the story.
The setup is this: Ferris is ten years old. She lives in a big house with her mom, her dad, her younger sister Pinky, her Grandma Charisse, and her Uncle Ted. Ferris’s best friend Billy is also there, usually playing their piano. Throw in some raccoons in the attic and a lovable but dopey dog and you have a large family or a small community.
But then we get the plotlines. Ferris’s sister Pinky’s fondest wish is to become an outlaw. Ferris’s Grandma Charisse has congestive heart disease and occasionally sees a ghost in her bedroom. Uncle Ted lives in their basement and paints a visual history of the world on one wall. He is also separated from Ferris’s Aunt Shirley, who is upset with him for quitting his job to work on the mural project. Uncle Ted has enlisted Ferris to plead his love to Shirley. Ferris and Billy’s favorite teacher Mrs. Mielk, has recently lost her husband and is bereft. Mr. Buoy, the hardware store owner, is sweet on Grandma Charisse. Oh, and Pinky has stolen pliers from the hardware store to pull her loose tooth with, and she is planning to hold up the bank.
As we get to know each character, we see plenty of comedy. When Ferris visits her Aunt Shirley’s beauty salon to find out if she is still mad at him, Ferris finds no answers, but Aunt Shirley gives her a terrible perm. Pinky, taking an off-hand remark by Grandma Charisse’s doctor seriously, pulls out her loose tooth with pliers, then pulls out another tooth as an experiment. And she does, in fact, attempt to rob a bank.
It also is a very serious story. Ferris worries that her grandma may be dying. Uncle Ted makes light of it but is heartbroken that his wife won’t talk to him. Ferris and her friend Billy Jackson see Mrs. Mielk crying at Billy’s dad’s restaurant. And Grandma Charisse insists that she regularly sees a ghost who needs Ferris and her friends to find a way to light a chandelier of forty candles in their dining room so she can be reunited with her husband, who died in the war.
In the hands of almost any other author, this story would be so unruly as to be impossible to follow and would be a locked box that has no way out. Under DiCamillo’s control, though, a story as chaotic as life sometimes is becomes a moving treatise on love and grace. Early in the book (page 6), Grandma Charisse tells Ferris, “Every story is a love story. Or every good story is a love story.” And maybe that is the best way to think of this book, a bunch of interconnected love stories. But this is not always romantic love; often, the stories are about family love, friendship, selflessness, grace, and forgiveness.
When Ferris asks, after finding out about Grandma Charisse’s heart problems, what the point of love is if people die, her friend Billy explains, “That’s what music is for.” There is no further explanation after this life. DiCamillo leaves that for her young audience to figure out on their own.
But this isn’t a story about a grandma dying. The love stories thread through each other to reveal moments of forgiveness and reconciliation, learning to share those people we love, accepting people for who they are, inviting people wrapped up in deep grief to rejoin the community, what hospitality means, and what it is like to finally find the courage to express a love that has stayed underground for decades. There is friendship here and love from parents to kids – both kids that are easy to love and those that are difficult. Even the family dog, Boomer, seems to love everyone.
For example, when Pinky’s mom forces her to return the pliers she stole from Mr. Buoy, the hardware store owner, he forgives her without hesitation. He even gives her a lollipop. Then he asks her to take an extra lollipop to Grandma Charisse. He has quietly been in love with her for a long time.
Ferris takes another note to Aunt Shirley, sacrificing her hair (which goes from a bad perm to an even worse shag cut) for the chance for reconciliation between her Uncle and Aunt.
Ferris is jealous when Pinky begins spending time reading to Grandma Charisse, who Ferris thinks of as her favorite. Ultimately, she learns she can share her grandma with others.
And so this book isn’t a Hallmark Special where love is easy to come by through coincidence, easily won through sheer cuteness, and lasts forever. This love is messy, difficult, and surprising, and it rings true. It is also a story filled with unforgettable but tiny moments that can slip by without notice if the reader isn’t careful. On page 128 the narrator tells us that “Grief does that, takes away your words. At least for a while, it takes away everything.” Four pages later, we get, “Loving someone takes a whole lot of courage. Some people just aren’t up to the task.” But in all of these sub-plots hilariously twisting around each other, grace prevails, and love, somehow, unexpectedly, wins. The ending is sad. And it is happy. It has brokenness, and it has grace. The refrain repeated throughout the book is proven true again and again. Every story is a love story.
Bill, I used to teach Children’s Literature at Dordt U. and I remember Kate DiCamillo’s The Tale of Desperaux and Because of Winn-Dixie with much joy and love. I think I will give Ferris a try. Thank you for the suggestion.
Such a great book. I also enjoyed her recent trilogy “Raymie Nightingale,” “Louisiana’s Way Home,” and “Beverly Right Here.” Kate is a gift!