When you’re reading a good book, your impulse is to tell a friend. In the case of “Adam of the Road,” I told several friends and two of them were in the middle of reading it with their children. While it’s not a miracle that a bunch of mothers of similar reading taste happened to be reading the same book at the same time, it isn’t exactly an ordinary, everyday occurrence either. Why “Adam of the Road”? Why now?
Elizabeth Janet Gray Vining’s chapter book “Adam of the Road” is an action-packed story with depth. The eponymous Adam is a boy learning the art of minstrelry from his father, Roger, and learning to navigate the medieval world. The historical fiction, set in the 1290s, is immersive, teaching readers many facts and offering reflections on a different way of life by jumping into the story and showing you around a different world.
Without expository aside, you can see how different life was in a different time. Indeed, much of the plot can be chalked up to the fact that there was no instantaneous or reliable long-distance communication for common people. After Adam leaves school to accompany his father as he travels as a minstrel, he and his spaniel, Nick, have a series of adventures meeting other children, merchants, minstrels, and religious. When Adam becomes separated from his father and his dog, he is left to fend for himself in a harsh world.
Vining conveys a truth that is not confined to the Medieval world: unaccompanied children are in danger. In this instance, most people do not have malice, and some are even quite helpful. But, the reality remains, that most adults are too busy to extend themselves for a needy child.
Very much the hero’s journey, Adam recalls his father’s sage advice, reminisces on the sweet moments with his mother before her death, and makes a way for himself in the world. What a tale! Illustrations by Robert Lawson add helpful visuals and plenty of detail.
“Adam of the Road” won the Newbery Medal in 1943, well-earned recognition for a unique and compelling story. Vining’s life before and after this accomplishment was nothing short of exceptional. After marrying in 1929, her husband died in a car accident, and she was seriously injured. While she was recovering, she became a Quaker.
After World War II, Vining was personally selected by Emperor Hirohito of Japan to be the private tutor to Crown Prince Akhito. In an episode stranger than fiction, the Quaker Vining would meet with the Crown Prince, bringing along a group of American teenagers to practice conversational English. During these meetings, Vining bestowed on the Crown Prince the nickname “Jimmy.”
I was surprised that “Adam of the Road,” and many other children’s books written by Vining, receiving only middling ratings on sites like Good Reads. It seems many people find her writing too optimistic. Yet, while a lot of things come out right in the end, it was quite a harrowing story. Additionally, hers is not an oversimplistic optimism. Perhaps the story is childlike, but it is not facile.
Take, for example, the episode in which Adam, separated from his father and still in search of his dog, falls in with a family of minstrels. He initially finds camaraderie with them given their shared profession. He quickly learns through the cold and hunger of their lives that they are not masters of their craft, and people of stature do not enjoy the stories they tell and the physical entertainment they rely on. The narrator observes:
“The stories that Jack told were not at all like those that Roger used to tell. They were short, exaggerated tales mostly making rude jokes about friars and monks and rich abbots. Adam knew that friars were often greedy and untruthful, that monks sometimes varied the holy life with hunting and chess-playing and frequently ate and drank too much, that some rich abbots were as powerful and unscrupulous as many rich nobles; but who could be better than Master Walter and Dame Alice, or the monks at St. Alban’s?
‘People like the stories we tell,’ Andrew said, when Adam objected. ‘You have to give people what they want. You pretend to be a minstrel. You ought to know that.’
At first that sounded like what Roger used to say. ‘A minstrel must fit his tale to his listeners,’ but when Adam thought it over he decided that it was quite different. Roger told tales that fitted the good in people, tales about courage and danger and adventure and love. ‘Well anyhow,’ Adam persisted, ‘Roger got a war horse for his tales and that’s more than Jack ever did.’”
What a striking way of putting it! Storytellers can appeal to base desires, which are shared by most of the audience, but a truly gifted storyteller not only reflects the audience members to themselves but inspires them to excellence.
