Category: Action/Thriller Publisher: High Pitched Hum Publishing
ISBN-10: 0977729079
Type: Fiction
Pages: 107
Copyright: November 2005
Good stories are, by nature, meant to entertain; but, what can make a story great is the added bonus a reader gets when the tale teaches a reader something new; The Stream is a great story. What, you may wonder, did I learn from reading this great tale? I must admit that initially, it was with a little trepidation that I approached this novel. Fishing? What do I know about fishing? I thought. It is neither a hobby of mine and really, I could not very well identify with a story about a youth who gets lost at sea when he goes out fishing. But, I was wrong and in for a treat.
I was hooked from the moment I completed reading the Prologue. The main protagonist, Sandy, is in some form of danger and I found that I immediately wanted to know what happened. This desire to know what happened was sustained throughout the tale and is testament to Mr. Robertson’s craftsmanship. The remaining chapters chronicle the events of Sandy’s life and experiences in the two weeks prior to this incident. It is an honest, heart-warming and yet funny account of this teenager’s life in the sea-side town of Mayport, Florida.
In this story, Mr. Robertson has introduced various themes from the preservation of family values, teenage romance, boy-growing up and a rescue mission. To his credit, Mr. Robertson has managed to intertwine all of these themes and the end result is a tale which is seamless and flows beautifully. The language is neither too flowery nor is it too simple – indeed, Mr. Robertson has struck a balance to ensure that the tale is told with great aplomb. There is much humor in this story and it comes across in the many descriptions that Mr. Robertson has given to the characters and places. For instance, ‘Watermelon-on-legs’ and ‘Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum’ immediately create images that makes any further description of these people superfluous. Also, what was intriguing was that Mr. Robertson has succeeded in writing dialogue that is so true and original that it was refreshing.
It is often said of novels that words should be enough to sufficiently convey a tale. When illustrations are included, something does not seem right and more often than not, a reader may become frustrated with the fact that the illustrations do not eventually tally with the description in the book. However, in the case of The Stream, it is the exact opposite for Mr. Robertson’s words already conjure up images that are most vivid and when the strategically placed illustrations presented themselves, I found myself thinking, “that’s exactly how I saw it”- indeed, the illustrations are beautiful and they add to rather than detract from the tale told.
As I started with the idea that readers should learn something new when reading a tale, I think it fitting that I end this piece with what I’ve learned about fishing by quoting what is my favorite passage in the book:
Actually, Sandy already knew that the tide would be low because he kept up with the charts. Good fishermen always considered several natural occurrences when fishing. The tide was one. Sandy liked an incoming tide. The temperature of the water was significant, the phase and location of the moon was another factor. The presence and location of baitfish in an area was also important. The moon would be setting about the time the sun rose, which was perfect. The water was very warm around the inshore reefs and there were lots of baitfish swimming there.
Excerpt
Sandy knew he was in serious trouble when he looked up and saw the billowing blue-black clouds with the brilliant sabers of lightning stabbing downward, rolling toward him over darkening seas. His nineteen-foot powerless boat lay dead in the water twenty-five miles from shore in the Atlantic Ocean. At fourteen years old, Sandy was the archetypical middle school aged boy. He was small because his growth spurt hadn’t kicked in yet, and he was 5’6” tall. He kept his sandy blond hair cropped close, and his age caused a few ugly pimples to form on his face. Sandy was a loner. He had a few friends and mostly he kept to himself. He was also a boy of few words just like his father and a lot of the other fishermen who lived in Mayport, Florida. This caused most of the students at Mayport Middle School to misunderstand him and think he was arrogant and egotistical. The only time Sandy talked a lot was when it was about his beloved nature or fishing.
Although Sandy was thin, he was very wiry and strong, but that didn’t show in his outward appearance. Fishermen’s sons had hands like rocks, made so by hauling in ropes and lines and performing the labor-intensive work on a fishing boat. Sandy had high cheekbones and bright blue eyes. His eyes had the look of a person who spent a lot of time out of doors, either on the sea or in wide-open spaces. He had the same piercing look in his eyes that could be seen in a hawk or an eagle.
The gusts of cold wind that always preceded a storm began to blow against Sandy and the boat. It was being pushed further and further from shore.
It was two-thirty in the afternoon. For the first time, Sandy started to feel fear. He realized he had been foolish. Thoughts were coursing through his head.
I’ve been cocky and stupid! I know better. You don’t mess around with the ocean because she’ll get cha’ if you screw up. I should have told my dad where I was going. The only person who knows is Mr. Johnny, and he won’t know I haven’t come back. Johnny thinks I was going to Nine Mile. I just had to get greedy and try to get that one more fish when I had plenty. I had to forget that a huge storm was on the way. My boat is ruined, the engine is dead, the radio is dead, the battery is burned up and that monster storm is coming. I must be over twenty-five or thirty miles from shore, and the storm is pushing me further out. If I don’t start using my head, I’ll die out here.
Sandy took a piece of line and tied the fishing poles up under the port gunwale. He pulled the massive cobia he caught over and slid it under the tarp with the four kingfish. It was almost as large as he was. All he could do was shake his head. It was the best day fishing he’d ever had in his life, and it was probably all for nothing. He took another piece of line and looped it through a grommet on the canvas that covered the fish and tied it to the stern cleat. He had three one-gallon jugs of water left, and he tied those down as well.
He knew he was in for a blow; the seas had already picked up. The boat was tossing pretty heavily now. The storm would wash anything not tied down overboard, and Sandy knew he would need all of the things he had for what he could face in the future, which was frighteningly uncertain now. The cooler and tackle box were tied off also. The wind was blowing angry seas out of the west, and the boat turned sideways to them, which threatened to capsize it.
Sandy tied his sea anchor to the bow and threw it in. This acted like a parachute and kept the boat pointed in the direction of the sea so the bow, as it was designed to do, split the waters as if it was in motion. He was also careful to don a life preserver and tie a rope around his waist. He would die if he was washed overboard and lost contact with the boat.
The small boat with the young boy and five giant fish was being pushed farther and farther from shore. Sandy was already over thirty miles from the docks in Mayport. The wind was howling around him now like a whole posse of banshees on horseback. The waves grew higher and higher, undulating like cars on a roller coaster. They crashed over the gunwales of his little nineteen-foot fishing boat. Then the rain began. It blew down sideways in choking sheets that stung his face and filled his nostrils when he looked into it. He was glad for the rain slicker he always kept on the boat, because that gave him some protection. Regardless how hard Sandy bailed with the white, five-gallon bucket; the boat was slowly filling with water.
With his outboard engine knocked out and his radio down, the youngster was at the mercy of the elements. The world was getting darker and darker. The waves had kicked up to almost ten feet. Only the sea anchor was saving him from being swamped. The boat raced further and further from shore as it was propelled by the treacherous western winds of the furious gale. Winds were blowing in gusts up to fifty miles per hour—almost hurricane strength. A sobering thought suddenly coursed through Sandy’s mind. Oh no. The Stream! He was being pushed east toward the northeasterly flowing Gulf Stream.
The Gulf Stream was a warm surface current which originated in the Gulf of Mexico near the equator and flowed northeast across the Atlantic, driven by prevailing southwest winds. It influenced the climate of the United Kingdom and Northwest Europe by bringing with it warm, humid, and mild air. The ocean current traveled past the east coast of the United States towards Newfoundland. The North Atlantic Drift formed an extension to the Gulf Stream, which flowed past the south coast of Labrador toward the west coast of Europe. The water in the stream was very warm, having been heated in the relatively shallow areas of the Gulf of Mexico. The water traveled at speeds that varied between one and three miles per hour.
Sandy was a small boy in a huge, furious, and unforgiving ocean. His frightened mind could only focus on a series of events over the past two weeks that led up to this perilous predicament.
Professional Reviews
Vanessa Wells, English Major, University of North Florida
Hemingway meets Yann Martel (Life of Pi). Young Sandy may be lost at sea but so much is found between the pages of this book. Steve Robertson's masterful portrayal of the salt, grit, lives and loves of a close-knit fishing community is stunning. The reader joins young Sandy and embarks on a journey of survival to discover the harsh rite of passage the sea deals one extraordinary young fisherman.
Dr. Dana Thomas, Dean of Liberal Arts
With a style resembling Hemmingway and a theme echoing Melville, The Stream narrates a young boy’s internal and external battle with society and nature. Set in a time before technology wooed teens away from their love of outdoors, this tale merges images of one adolescent’s fear, maturity, and courage with a dynamic account of a lost-at-sea saga. Offering both sensitivity and gripping action, Robertson weaves a story of a boy fighting for survival in both the cruel mainstream of middle school and the dangerous current of the Gulf stream. Every bit as intense as Gary Paulsen’s Hatchet, The Stream is destined to become another classic coming-of-age novel.
Anne Berkey, Public School Librarian
H. Steven Robertson has done it again! He has created a gut-wrenching, action-packed adventure that will appeal to readers of all ages. Follow the adventures of Sandy Stevens, Mayport middle schooler, as he fends off the school bully, finds a friend who shares his interests, and later fights for his life as a series of terrifying events sets him adrift in the Gulf Stream midst storms, giant freighters and killer sharks. Along the way, Sandy learns about himself, survival, and friendship, and is on his way to becoming a man's man.
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