My young adult
book, The Great & the Small, tells
the story of a rat colony that’s hell-bent on exterminating humanity, using the
bubonic plague.
I’ve been asked
several times, usually with a groan and a look of revulsion, “Why rats”???!!
Why on earth would anyone in their right mind, write a book about such a
loathsome creature as the humble rat??
I get it. Anyone
can love a fluffy bunny, or a speckled fawn, or a plump puppy. It takes a whole
different sort to love a creature with an ever-twitching pointy nose, a bristly
worm-like tail, and baggage that includes that whole pesky bubonic plague episode
when almost half of Europe’s population was killed off by rats carrying
disease-ridden fleas.
Why rats,
indeed!
When I was
younger, I had devoured the book Watership
Down, and it remains one of my all-time favourites. I was fascinated by how
I felt like I was watching a warren
of rabbits duke it out against a totalitarian regime. When they (spoiler
alert!!) overcame and triumphed, I felt as if I’d triumphed with them. And when
I read Silverwing, a book written for
younger people, I felt no less fascinated by the weird world of bats. When it
was my turn to try to flesh out my story idea, I realized that there would be
no more formidable or fascinating enemy to humanity than the wild rat. Who else
could wield a weapon that would engender such terror as the bubonic plague? Who
else to choose for a book about two species who despise each other, who
mutually wish to destroy each other? And who better to show the power of
learning to love one whom you’d previously feared?
But I admit, as
I started out on this quest to explore questions of good and evil, I was a
little grossed out by rats. So I did some research. I drove down to a local pet
store and stared into some cages with baby rats. I had zero intention of buying
one. Afterall, I already had dogs, cats, and guinea pigs (who star in their own
series, Greenbeard the Pirate Pig).
But the shrewd owner asked if I’d like to hold one. A rat pup was placed in my
palm where he promptly snuggled in and fell asleep. You can guess the rest of
the story.
That rat pup came home with me that day. He was christened “Frodo”
and became my guide into the strange new world of what it means to be a rat.
Frodo taught me that “ratties” are highly intelligent, can communicate in a
rudimentary but clear way, are sweet, affectionate, and love to play. In short,
Frodo demolished my own prejudices about rats.
At 1 ½ years old, Frodo died of
respiratory illness, but not before he’d wiggled his way into my heart. I still
get choked up when I think of him.
 |
| He was the finest of ratties! |
The Great & the Small is all about challenging prejudice, about thinking for
oneself, and making conscious choices—so, why rats?
Why not rats?
The Great and The Small
A.T. Balsara
Genre: Young Adult
Publisher: Common Deer Press
Date of Publication: October 31, 2017
ASIN: B07543NL6H
Number of pages: 292 pages
Cover Artist: Ellie Sipila of Move it to the Write
Book Description:
Deep below the market, in the dark tunnels no human knows exist, a war has begun. Lead by the charismatic Beloved Chairman, a colony of rats plots to exterminate the ugly two-legs who have tortured them in labs, crushed them with boots, and looked at them with disgust for as long as anyone can remember.
When the Chairman’s nephew is injured and a young two-leg nurses him back to health, however, doubt about the war creeps in. Now the colony is split—obey the Chairman and infect the two-legs with the ancient sickness passed down from the Old Ones, or do the unthinkable...
Rebel.
Excerpt
from The Great and the Small: War
is coming
Papa
hushed the crowd, then nodded to Julian. Councillor Julian stepped forward,
clearing his throat. Leering at the gathering, he smiled, showing his long,
yellow teeth. “Every rat is equal! Every nest for all!”
The
gathering answered, “Every rat is equal! Every nest for all!”
“Dark
days lie ahead, good Tunnel Rats!” cried Julian. “Wreckers will batter against
us from within! Two-legs will fight us from without!”
Councillor
Tiv stepped forward and cried, “Sacrifice, good Tunnel Rats! Sacrifice!
Wreckers must be rooted out, traitors brought to justice. I am a good Tunnel
Rat, and I am also a mother,” she stared out at the rats, “but I would turn in
my own pup if it betrayed the Common Good!”
The
cheering crowd went silent.
Papa
smiled, gazing out over the assemblage. Tiv looked at him then raised her paw
and shouted, “Sacrifice! Sacrifice for the Common Good!”
Sergo
strode up beside her and, shaking his clenched paw in the air, bellowed, “The
Common Good! Sacrifice!”
“The
Common Good!” cried Bothwell, stamping his feet. “The Common Good! The Common
Good!” Like an orchestra conductor, he waved at ARM patrol members, who took up
the chant. ARM members wove through the crowds. “The Common Good! The Common
Good! The Common Good!”
The
excitement was infectious. Rats shrieked and stamped their feet. Fin shouted
and stamped his feet too. Behind him Scratch’s piercing squeal could be heard
over all. Papa walked back and forth on the bench, listening, smiling. Then, he
turned to the gathering, arms open, and waited.
The
crowd settled into a mumbled hush. Still, the Chairman stood, silent, his arms
outstretched.
In
the distance, a seagull squawked, its voice growing faint. A salty gust from
the harbour tousled the trees rimming the garden. Water gurgled from the
fountain where Fin and Zumi had swum not too long ago. Every rat in the
Forbidden Garden leaned forward, their eyes riveted on their Beloved Chairman.
He
spoke. “Good Tunnel Rats. The history of our beloved Tunnels would make a stone
weep. We all know this history. It is whispered to pups as they play, sung in their
lullabies as they sleep; it is fed to them in their mother’s milk so that in
the very marrow of our bones we may never forget what the two-legs have done to
us. They have trapped us, poisoned us, tortured us, reviled us.”
With each word, Papa’s arms jerked wider, as if he himself were experiencing
all of those things in front of them. At the end he pulled his fists into
himself and hunched over them, his breath ragged.
Sobs
broke out in the gathering. A few pups began to wail. Someone shouted, “Those ugly, ugly two-legs!”
Papa
slowly pulled himself upright. “Yes, friend, they are indeed ugly.”
He
began to pace again. “But there is an older story—much older—that is our
history too; a time when rats ruled the earth and the two-legs were cut down
like sheaves of wheat in a field. The Old Ones called it ‘the Great Dying.’”
About the Author:
Website: http://www.torreybalsara.com/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/torreybalsara
1 comment:
Thanks for hosting, A.T. for the release of The Great & the Small.
Jenn
Common Deer Press
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