Why are some carpets magic? What is a wish-tree? And where can the fountain of eternal life be found? The answers to these and many other intriguing questions can be found in Sally Pomme Clayton's enchanted storytelling journey through Central Asia. On her travels in the region, Sally has accumulated a wealth of folklore and knowledge of nomadic cultures. These 12 exotic retellings of stories related to the author in storytelling tents, combined with Sophie Herxheimer's brilliantly-patterned artwork, reveal the richness of the little-known, faraway lands of Central Asia.
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The Storyteller’s Tale 9
A Whole Brain kazakhstan 12
The Secret of Felt turkmenistan 13
Blue Sky, White Wing central asia 16
The Girl who Cried a Lake kyrgyzstan 18
The Carpet of Dreams afghanistan 23
Riddle Bazaar uzbekistan 30
The Bag of Trickness kazakhstan 32
Zarina’s Orchard tadjikistan 36 The Heart of your Friend kazakhstan 46
Father of Stories, Horse of Songs central asia 48
The Fountain of Life central asia 54
About the Stories 56
Map of Central Asia 58
Glossary 60
Sophie Herxheimer's bright and lively illustrations help draw the reader into this exotic world. - Spectator
This is a splendid book. - Books for Keeps
A vibrant and enchanting collection of folk tales. - Junior Education
When I was little, my sister and I used to throw a blanket over the washing line to make a tent. In the warm half-light we would set up camp, arranging beds and making a pretend fire. Then we would borrow one of Mum’s saucepans, and sneak a handful of rice and raisins from the kitchen. We’d fill the saucepan with water from the hot tap and cook the rice and raisins over our fire, stirring the rice and stirring the rice until the water had turned white and starchy. It seemed as if we stirred for hours, and still the rice didn’t cook. We’d eat it anyway, even though we knew we shouldn’t, biting into the hard grains and chewing them for a long time. Then we’d curl up round the fire and tell stories. Days and nights passed in an afternoon. Finally, it really was bedtime. Dad would call us, the tent was pulled down and the blanket folded up. We moved to a new house every two years or so. And each time we moved I wished we could take our house with us, just as people who live in tents carry their houses from place to place. Even though we couldn’t carry our house, we could carry stories. Stories are light. You can carry them anywhere, pick more up along the way, and your load never gets heavier. So stories were a way of carrying the threads of our lives from place to place.
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