Moominsummer Madness (Moomin, 4) - Softcover

Jansson, Tove

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0312608918 ISBN 13: 9780312608910

Verlag: Macmillan USA, 2010

Inhaltsangabe

If you haven’t met a Moomin yet, you’re missing the most magical fun!

Perfect for readers of all ages, join the beloved, world-famous characters of Moominvalley on an unforgettable adventure in Moominsummer Madness—includes black-and-white illustrations throughout.

“Genius.” —Philip Pullman

“Clever, gentle, witty, and completely engrossing.” —Jeff Smith, author of Bone

When a flood sweeps through Moominvalley, the Moomins must find a new house. And with typical Moomin good luck, one just happens to be floating by. It looks normal enough, but there are curtains where one wall should be, strange rows of lights, and other odd amenities. Then Moomintroll and the Snork Maiden disappear, and the family realize that the house may hold the answers to more than they ever dreamed.

In the 80 years since the first Moomin novel appeared, Tove Jansson’s timeless stories have continued to captivate audiences across the globe with their adventure, humor, and endless wisdom. Whether you’re a lifelong fan or a first-time visitor to Moominvalley, these classic books are a must-have for anyone who wishes the world was a bit more magical.

The original Moomin novels by Tove Jansson:
? Comet in Moominland
? Finn Family Moomintroll
? Moominpappa’s Memoirs
? Moominsummer Madness
? Moominland Midwinter
? Tales from Moominvalley
? Moominpappa at Sea
? Moominvalley in November

Books for the littlest Moomin fans, up to 3 years old:
? Moomin’s Lift the Flap Hide and Seek: with Big Flaps for Little Hands
? Moomin’s Little Book of Numbers
? Moomin’s Little Book of Words

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Tove Jansson (1914–2001) was born in Helsinki and spent much of her life in Finland. She is the author of the Moomin books, including Comet in Moominland and Finn Family Moomintroll. Born into an artistic family—her father was a sculptor and her mother was a graphic designer and illustrator—Jansson studied at the University College of Arts, Crafts and Design in Stockholm, the Finnish Academy of Fine Arts, and L'École des Beaux-Arts in Paris. In addition to her Moomin books, she also wrote several novels, drew comic strips and worked as a painter and illustrator. In 1966, she was awarded the Hans Christian Andersen Medal for her body of work. Jansson had a studio in Helsinki but spent most of her time at her home on a small island called Klovharu.

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Moominsummer Madness

By Tove Jansson

Square Fish

Copyright © 2010 Tove Jansson
All right reserved.
ISBN: 9780312608910

Chapter 1
About a bark boat and a volcano
Moominmamma was sitting on the front steps in the sun, rigging a model bark schooner. “One big sail on the mainmast, and one on the foremast, and several small three-cornered ones to the bowsprit, if I remember rightly,” she thought.
The rudder was a ticklish job, and the hold an odder one. Moominmamma had cut a tiny bark hatch, and when she laid it on, it fitted snugly and neatly over the hold.
“Just in case of a hurricane,” she said to herself with a happy sigh.
By her side on the steps, knees under chin, sat the Mymble’s daughter, looking on. She saw Moominmamma next tack the stays with small glass-headed pins, each of a different color. The mast heads were already flying bright red pennants.
“For whom is it?” asked the Mymble’s daughter respectfully.
“For Moomintroll,” replied his mamma, and searched her work basket for something for an anchor cable.
“Don’t push me about!” cried a small voice from the basket.
“Dear me,” said Moominmamma, “here’s your little sister in my work basket again! She’s going to hurt herself on the pins and needles one day.”
“My!” said the Mymble’s daughter menacingly and tried to pull her sister out of a skein of wool. “Come out at once!”
But Little My managed to crawl deeper into the wool, where she disappeared completely.
“Such a nuisance she turned out so very small,” complained the Mymble’s daughter. “I never know where to look for her. Couldn’t you make a bark boat for her, too? She could sail in the water barrel, and I’d always know where she is.”
Moominmamma laughed and looked in her handbag for another piece of bark.
“Do you think this would hold Little My?” she asked.
“Certainly,” said the Mymble’s daughter. “But you’ll have to make a small life belt as well.”
“May I cut up your knitting ball?” shouted Little My from the sewing-basket.
“By all means,” replied Moominmamma. She was admiring her schooner and wondered if she had forgotten anything. As she sat holding it in her paw a big black flake of soot came floating down and landed amidships on the deck.
“Ugh,” said Moominmamma and blew it away. Immediately another flake landed on her nose. Suddenly the air was full of soot.
Moominmamma rose with a sigh.
“So very annoying, this volcano,” she remarked.
“Volcano?” asked Little My, and thrust an interested head out of the wool.
“Yes, it’s a mountain not so very far from here, and all of a sudden it’s begun spitting fire and smoke over the whole valley,” explained Moominmamma. “And soot. It’s always kept quiet and good ever since I married. And now, after all these years, exactly when I’ve finished my washing, it has to sneeze once again and blacken all the things I hung out.”
“Everybody’s burning up!” shouted Little My happily. “And everybody’s houses and gardens and playthings and little sisters and their playthings!”
“Fiddlesticks,” said Moominmamma genially and whisked away another speck of soot from her nose.
Then she went off to look for Moomintroll.
Under the slope, a little to the right of Moominpappa’s hammock tree, was a large pond of clear, brown water. The Mymble’s daughter always insisted that it had no bottom in the middle. Perhaps she was right. Around the edges, broad and shining leaves grew for dragonflies and skimming-beetles to rest on, and below the surface spidery creatures used to row wrigglingly along, trying to look important. Further down, the pond-frog’s eyes glinted like gold, and sometimes you could catch a quick glimpse of her mysterious relatives that lived deep down in the mud.
Moomintroll was lying in his customary place (or one of his places), curled up on the green-and-yellow moss with his tail carefully tucked in under him.
He looked gravely and contentedly down into the water while he listened to the rustle of wings and the drowsy buzz of bees around him.
“It’s for me,” he thought. “I’m sure it’s for me. She always makes the first bark boat of the summer for the one she likes most. Then she muddles it all away a little, because she doesn’t want anybody to feel hurt. If that water-spider goes crawling eastwards, there’ll be no dinghy. If it goes westwards, she’s made a dinghy so small that you hardly dare take it in your paw.”
The spider crawled off eastward, and tears welled up in Moomintroll’s eyes.
At that moment there was a rustling in the grass, and his mother thrust out her head between the tufts.
“Hello,” she said. “I’ve got something for you.”
She bent down and floated the schooner with great care. It balanced beautifully over its own reflection and started away on the port tack as if manned by old salts.
Moomintroll saw at a glance that she had forgotten the dinghy.
He rubbed his nose friendlily against hers (it feels like stroking your face against white velvet) and said: “It’s the nicest you’ve ever made.”
They sat side by side in the moss and watched the schooner sail across the pond and land at the other shore beside a large leaf.
Over at the house the Mymble’s daughter was shouting for her little sister. “My! My!” she yelled. “Horrible little menace! My-y-y! Come home at once so I can pull your hair!”
“She’s hid somewhere again,” said Moomintroll. “Remember that time we found her in your bag?”
Moominmamma nodded. She was dipping her nose in the water and looking at the bottom.
“There’s a nice gleam down there,” she said.
“It’s your golden bracelet,” said Moomintroll. “And the Snork Maiden’s necklace. Good idea, isn’t it?”
“Splendid,” said his mother. “We’ll always keep our bangles in brown pond water in the future. They’re so much more beautiful that way.”
On the front steps of Moominhouse stood the Mymble’s daughter, nearly breaking her voice with yelling. Little My sat quietly in one of her numberless hide outs, just as her sister knew.
“She’d use some kind of bait instead, if she were wise,” thought Little My. “Honey, for instance. And then beat me up when I came.”
“Mymble,” said Moominpappa from his rocking-chair. “If you keep shouting like that she’ll never come.”
“It’s for my conscience’s sake,” explained the Mymble’s daughter a little conceitedly. “It hurts me more than her. When Mother went away she said to me: ‘Now I’m leaving your little sister in your care, and if you can’t bring her up nobody can, because I’ve given up.’ ”
“I see,” said Moominpappa. “Then please yell all you want to, if it takes a weight off your mind.” He reached out for a piece of cake from the luncheon table, looked around him carefully, and dipped it in the cream jug.
The verandah table was laid for five. The sixth plate was under it, because the Mymble’s daughter declared that she felt...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Macmillan USA
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2010
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0312608918
• ISBN 13: 9780312608910
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Zeichner: Jansson Tove
• Anzahl der Seiten: 155
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: preigu; mail@preigu.de; ; Lengericher Landstr. 19; Osnabrück; 49078; Deutschland