Magic, music, and heart flow through Carnival Magic, the sequel to Amy Ephron's The Castle in the Mist. Siblings Tess and Max Barnes are staying with their aunt for a short vacation in Devon-by-the-Sea, a quaint seaside town in England. When Tess and Max decide to visit the local carnival, they are trapped inside the carnival and unable to escape. They befriend the Baranova twins, stunning aerial acrobats who miss their family, and attempt to figure out a method to return home. Carnival Magic has it all: a malicious carnival owner, a magical House of Mirrors, breathtaking oceans, reunited family, and best of all, adorable baby tigers! Ms. Ephron does a job well done in making this story engaging with her remarkably clear voice. Reminiscent somewhat of Edgar Eager's Seven-day Magic, this story follows the adventures of two children trying to find their way home with the help of their friends and remembered advice from their father. The two main characters will often throughout the book recall a saying or quote from their dad, which influences the choices they make. When they have the opportunity to possibly return home in a convoluted plan involving riding a horse against a high tide, the siblings choose to turn back rather than leave their friends, and attempt to find another way to return home. Their father's advice is what improves their outlook on their predicament at the end of the book; Tess says that she isn't lost, but merely has found her way home again, just like her father had advised her to do long ago. Ms. Ephron's descriptions are also vivid. When the Barnes siblings travel to what they call a "ghost carnival" full of colorless and strange scenery and people, they notice that the colors of various objects are . . . faded. Not altered or unnatural, but simply not completely there. However, when Tess and Max await the tide on horseback in anticipation of going home, they realize that the beach transforms from mostly monochrome, with black and white hues, to full of color as the sun rises and they gallop away from the ocean. I like that particular image in the book: the two siblings turn back from the ocean, having changed their minds and decided to not leave for home without their friends; as they do this, they realize they have made the right decision and the world isn't black and white anymore, and that the sunrise (symbolizing transformation and impending change) has brought color back into their lives. As color returns to the world for the siblings, something else also returns: their confidence. Instead of worrying for long hours about how to get home and whether their parents are looking for them, Tess and Max know they have done the right thing by not turning their backs on the people they care about. Without anxiety, they are allowed to live life to the fullest again; with the release of stress comes a liberation of sorts: a freedom to enjoy what could go right in life instead of stressing about what could go wrong. Tess, the Barnes sister, also discovers a magical needle that not only seems to reflect but also radiate light in all colors of the visible spectrum: magical blues and greens, dancing purples, animate reds. Just like a needle in a compass points unwaveringly north, Tess's needle serves as a comfort, a source of magic and encouragement to continue with her journey, and maybe--just maybe--a pointing in the right direction. Tess and Max flee the ghost carnivals and the cruel demands of the carnival owners, in the process reuniting an avuncular figure with his long-time companion and horse, and reuniting the eldest Baranova sibling with her younger brother and sister. Although it isn't explicitly revealed in the book, the feelings of the two main characters--we know both, seeing as the story is told in 3rd person omniscient--reflect the hidden meaning that the emotional arc of the plot hides: that in the end, the Barnes siblings have realized that since they were given the opportunity to help others, grow out of their shells, and try new experiences, the journey home itself was more important than home.
Ms. Ephron's language has a poetic and rhythmic aesthetic not unlike that common in free verse. Her prose is fluid and delicate, albeit suppressed by the fact she has written her book for young audiences. In an attempt to make her writing more "kid-friendly", she has employed several colloquialisms and pieces of slang, like "pretty cool" and "kind of". If she had not felt the need to write in the style of informal sixth-grade speech, her book would have appealed to wider range of audiences, not just ten and under. When it comes to writing a book or other important work, Ms. Ephron, let's please resist the need to pretend to be an elementary-school student. Readers like me appreciate a sophisticated vocabulary more than an attempt to talk like a child. All in all, I rate Amy Ephron's Carnival Magic 3.5/4 stars for beautiful, thought-provoking descriptions, riveting, fast-paced action, and poetic yet unsophisticated writing style. And, of course, it never hurts to have an adorable baby tiger or three, either.